Chapter 15
STEVE came to reluctantly; his every muscle and sinew aching, the base of his skull throbbing with pain. He stirred grudgingly, attempting to lift him-self off the asphalt pavement. It was too great a struggle. He started to work his fingers into motion, but his knuckles felt as though they had been run through a meat grinder. He attempted to pry his eyes open but one of them—which one he couldn't determine—was puffy, cogged up tightly. Managing the good eye open, he was instantly blinded by Tommy Crandon's wide smile.
"Oh, no." Steve grimaced, hazily recalling the brief but brutal scrap.
"You got in the way of a right uppercut, of buddy," Tommy apologized.
Steve stirred again rolling lethargically away from Tommy. He winced painfully at the one-eyed vision of Nina angrily hovering over him, their jackets draped over her arm.
"I hope you two are satisfied!" she reprimanded. "Now shake hands and be friends—and behave like ;grown men!"
Steve yanked himself up to a sitting position, wobbled up on his feet.
Tommy extended his right hand to Steve. "Your makes sense. Why shouldn't we be friends?"—Dumbfounded, Steve twisted his face up tightly, painfully. A nearby street lamp shed a meager ray of light over the vacant lot and he caught his first glimpse of Tommy's bluish, puffed-up face, a trickle of blood caked at his nostrils. Tommy waited patiently for the handshake.
Steve smiled. "I guess I didn't do too badly."
"You managed to sober me up a bit," Tommy re-plied. "And I still like you."
Steve conceded, clasping Tommy's hand sincerely.
"That's more like it." Nina sighed, handing them their jackets. "Now straighten up and let's get back to the party."
"Oh, no," Tommy protested. "You're a sweet, sensible girl, but you don't know Adele's parties like I do. Those gatherings bring out the worst in people —especially me."
"I can do without any more of that phoney gathering," Steve sided with Tommy.
"We'll have our own party!" Tommy announced. "Just the three of us. And very apropos of our little encounter here, I know just the bar! Artie's—a beautiful little dive on Eighth Avenue frequented by the boxing crowd.
Steve shrugged indifferently. "Why not? I'm game."
Tommy gentlemanly offered Nina his arm. "Nina, you are going to mix with some ,real people now."
Nina smiled, hooking one arm under Tommy's and the other under Steve's arm. She grasped Steve's hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze.
Steve sideglanced Tommy, admitting a new respect for him. And he was forced to make a quick evaluation of himself. Maybe he was more of a pretender than Adele's husband? Maybe, Steve thought, he was the phoney, and Tommy—whatever he was—was the genuine article.
Tommy's bright red Jaguar was parked at the b alongside the vacant lot and they crowded into the compact sports car, squeezing Nina tightly between them, Steve soon discovered that Tommy's driving was a lot like his right uppercuts. Fast.
Tommy was right about the colorful atmosphere of Artie's, the bar catering to the boxing crowd. The problem seemed to be that Tommy knew—and was well-known—in too many colorful little dives. After Artie's, there was Mauldin's for the baseball crowd, Jayson's for the basketball crowd, and a few others. But by that time, Steve had his sports all mixed up, and after a wild drinking spree with—and to—each sport, he finally realized that Tommy was a tough boy to keep up with.
Piling out of one dive in the early hours of the morning, Nina wisely maneuvered Steve and Tommy into a taxi, playfully informing Tommy that his sports car was exhausted and fast asleep. Steve drunkenly assumed that it was about time he suggested a swell dive. A little joint catering to salesmen—one in particular, and he invited them up to his apartment.
The remainder of the cab ride was hazy, with the exception of some very off-key harmonizing on I only want a buddy not a sweetheart.
Steve came awake reluctantly; his brain numb, his throat cotton-dry. One of his eyes was still puffy from the fight, and he managed the good one open. He blinked the single eye against the sunlight streaming through the open windows of his apartment.
Steve rolled lethargically on his side and through his one good eye saw Tommy Crandon blissfully asleep.
"Oh, no," Steve groaned, forcing himself up to a .sitting position. Steve's trousers and shirt—like Tommy's—looked more like battle-gear.
Steve smelled the aroma of coffee perking, and he managed to get on his feet.
"Good morning, Steve," Nina beamed, appearing as fresh and attractive as she did at the start of the previous evening. The only change seemed to be the apron she wore over her expensive evening dress. "You'd better wake up your buddy. It's past noon."
"Oh, no," Steve wailed, holding his head.
"It's Saturday," Nina shrugged. "The office is closed."
Steve moved in on Nina. "You should've gone home last night. What will your parents think?"
"I called them and explained what happened," she nonchalantly replied.
"Explained what?" Steve shrilled. "That you spent the night with two drunken, brawling bums?"
"It was fairly comfortable on the couch," Nina replied, gesturing toward the short divan.
"But what will your parents think?"
"They do not happen to have evil minds," she interrupted.
"Well, I'm taking you home and apologizing to them. And I guess I owe you an apology, too, for taking you to that party."
"No, Steve, I'm glad you did take me."
Steve hesitated. "Well, I guess you've got just about the whole rotten picture by now, don't you, Nina?"
"You'll grow with experience, Steve. And that's what's really important."
"I'm glad you think so," he mumbled, holding his throbbing head.
"I know so." She smiled with determination. "You'd better have some juice and coffee, and wake up Tommy."
The phone started to ring and Steve turned, but only stared at the instrument. "Something tells me I'd better not answer it," Steve mumbled to Nina, certain it was Adele raging with fury.
Tommy suddenly jumped up to a sitting position, poised his fists for action, evidently jarred from his ,slumber by the constant ringing. "C'mon!" he roared. The ringing of the phone ceased and Tommy turned slowly to Steve and Nina, smiled and darted them a : generous wave of his hand. "I guess we had a real bash last night, huh?"
Steve twisted his face. "You could call it that, old buddy."
Tommy yawned, stretched vigorously and jumped quickly onto his feet. "And dear Nina played nurse-maid to us?" he asked Steve.
"That's right," Steve replied. "She couldn't have gotten much rest on that uncomfortable couch." Tommy frowned. "While you and I shared the bed?"
"I'll take her home now and apologize to her parents."
"Steve, it's not necessary—" Nina started to protest.
"We'll just have to do the right thing," Tommy cut in. "Steve, one of us is duty-bound to marry the girl within forty-eight hours!" Playacting, he shrugged. "Unfortunately, I'm legally married at the present time—"
Nina tightened her face to reprimand Tommy.
"Breakfast is ready any time you two are. You both look like you could stand a shower and a shave."
"I could stand a new head," Steve moaned.
"I feel just great!" Tommy beamed.
Nina studied Tommy. "Your cold seems to have cleared. You're not coughing and your voice isn't raspy."
"I feel great because last night was a night of decision for me. And being with the two of you helped me reach that decision."
"Steve, I know I can confide in you"
"You can—you know you can."
"Adele has promised to divorce me right after this new stock issue is straightened out. Then I won't have to keep my real romance under wraps." Tommy suddenly glowed. "Steve, this girl is absolutely the greatest! She's had a pretty rough go of life—but she's got what it takes. She's a real person!"
"Then you intend to marry her?" Steve asked.
"Of course. I've kept it a secret because I knew Adele would louse it up for me."
"All the luck in the world, Tommy."
"Thanks, Steve." Tommy hesitated, moved nervously about. "Hell, Steve, I know I can trust you—"
"You can—you know you can."
"Well, I'm sure you know her, she's with the company. Mildred Whitney."
Fortunately, with his hangover, Steve was seated. "Mildred Whitney?"
"You do know her?"
"Yes . . . yes . . ." Steve started dumbly. "Quite well." Prying himself loose from the initial shock, a chain of events linked together for Steve and he suppressed his laughter.
If Tommy Crandon only knew that Mildred was—in addition to a number of other things—a dangerous virus-bug carrier! Those busy little cold-bugs . . . from himself to Mildred to Tommy.
It crystalized clearly for Steve and it wasn't a laughing matter anyway. He stared blankly at Tommy, busy with his arm and neck exercises.
Tommy Crandon . . . Mildred Whitney . his brain reviewed.
He thought of Tommy—oh, you poor sap.
And then he thought of Mildred—that conniving snake-bitch!
"You're going on the wagon?" Steve asked.
"A fate much worse," Tommy shot back. "I'm going to work for a living!"
"Believe me," Steve deadpanned, "it's not what it's cracked up to be."
"Well, I'm giving up tennis—before tennis gives me up. I'll let you in on a secret—I'm not as young as I look and my game is slowing up." Tommy limbered up his muscles in a certain pattern, as though by rote. "And, Steve, I'm asking you for a job?"
"What?"
"Oh, I know I could start out with some sort of phoney position—but first I want to learn to sell. I'll start right at the bottom as a sales trainee in your new setup."
"You're out of your mind—" Steve started. "No, he isn't," Nina put in.
Steve plopped himself into an easy chair. "After last night—I might be unemployed myself!"
Tommy smiled. "If I know Adele, you've still got a job. She respects you—because she can't push you around. And I'm starting to assert myself, too. You know, Adele used most of my friends to finance the Polar Bear Company." Tommy hesitated, then squared with Steve. "I only own a few hundred shares of stock myself—but I could take over enough proxy votes to make Adele really sweat for control."
Steve perked up to Tommy's words. "You seem to know the score, Tommy."
"I know what's going on down at the office," he uttered with an affirmative sway of his head. "I had been thinking of swinging for a share of control of the company, but now I realize that I need a lot of experience first."
While Nina was busy setting the breakfast table, Steve hesitated, thinking cautiously about this area of conversation. "You've got the right idea," was all Steve replied.