Chapter 13

Deedee fought awakening the next morning. When the alarm insisted upon her attention, she gave in reluctantly. Once awake, she took the next giant step in a hurry.

Jim was coming home today! Jim, the always patient, always sweet, always nice guy. Jim, the guy who'd showed her the road, without knowing he was doing it. Jim, the guy she'd been playing for the big Suckersville-without his knowing she was doing it.

Listlessly, she showered, brushed her naming red locks, dressed in the once-hated, now rather oddly appropriate style of coed attire, and started out for her morning classes. Despite the fact her native intelligence told her to forget him, she couldn't manage to force herself from thinking about the ugly scene with Ralph. She managed to make it through her morning classes, aware that she was constantly on the lookout for her former friend. When she broke free from the mood encompassing her, she made a call to her private apartment. She called from Student Union Hall, and it wasn't until Jim answered that she got the guilty feeling. Despite that, she did feel sort of relieved. Jim Bradley was back. Ralph Colman hadn't bitched that up, along with everything else!

"Jim," she breathed. "How nice to know you're back again."

"I've been sitting here thinking the same thing, and just waiting to hear you make an echo. I need to see you, Deedee. As soon as possible, It's-well, I don't want to talk about it on the phone-but really, doll, it's awfully important."

"But Jim, what-"

"Like I said, doll. I can't talk about it over the phone. But I have something I have to talk to you about. Actually, a question I have to ask you."

She knew one quick moment of fear. Had he heard from Ralph? No, he couldn't have. Anyhow, she breathed a sigh of relief, it was wonderful to hear a voice that sounded friendly. "I'll cut the rest of my classes, Jim. I'll be with you in about a half-hour."

"I'll be waiting, Deedee," he assured her. "Would you mind if I hit the bar? Just for a couple? It's a pretty important step I'm about to take."

Deedee was puzzled. She decided the worry of the past weeks had disturbed her usually good mental facilities. "No, Jim. No, of course not. Be my guest. Knock your brains out, honey, but hurry it up. Because I'll be there in place of that bar just as soon as I can. Like I said, half-hour. No longer."

"I'll be waiting. Second bar stool from the left."

She couldn't help laughing as she hung up.

She wasn't laughing by the time she reached the student parking lot and got behind the wheel of her car. As she guided the serviceable convertible out of .the parking lot and up Veteran Boulevard, she ran through her mind, seeking the reason behind Jim's strange necessity, his unusual need and demand to speak to her at once. Unable to find an obvious excuse, or easy answer, she finally shrugged, and decided to wait and see. There was actually, little else she could do, in as much as she was trapped by the overflow of traffic on the boulevard.

She waited her way through the stop lights, stop signs and other traffic hazards; thinking her way along. The "thing" with Ralph Colman came frequently to her mind. Forgetting Jim, it still hurt. He'd kind of reminded her of Pat, and she put the thought out of her mind once more.

By the time she'd reached her apartment, parked the car, and walked through the patio to the entrance, she'd forced all such thoughts to the back of her mind. As she opened the front door, she smiled at the older man.

Jim grinned back as she entered. He wanted to hug her, but restrained himself. She was such a darling child.

"Drink?" he invited, holding his own glass high. She saw that he'd had more than his usual amount. She shook her head, once again the worry came back. "Not right now. Go on, though, you have another."

He crossed the room swiftly, kissed her tenderly on an eyelid, the softest of kisses. "How's my kitten?"

She couldn't bring herself to smile brilliantly. Her answer was accompanied by a smile of wanness. "All right, I guess. What are we-or you-celebrating?"

He laughed, in sheer animal joy. Then he sank to the sofa, patted the cushion beside him, and laughed again. She shook her head, and stood, wide-stanced before him, her purse behind her back, almost as if she were on trial. What, she thought frantically-what in the hell is he getting at?

He took a gulp of his drink, hiccuped gravely, then began to laugh still more. This time Deedee laughed with him. "But what is it?" she demanded at the same time.

"Brace yourself, Deedee honey. Do you love this old man?"

It was a good question. And she did, in a way. "Yes."

"Think you could stand me around the joint a little more than I've been hanging around recently?"

A warning bell went off in Deedee's mind. She bit her lip, her brow furrowing. "I think so. But why?"

He placed his glass on the coffee table, gravely. He looked up at her, a plea in his eyes. "Well, I'll lay it right on you, honey. I've asked my wife for a divorce. I want to marry you."

Deedee dropped her purse to the floor, feeling her knees begin to buckle. She ran to the bathroom, closed the door behind her, tried desperately to stop the hot tears. This past week had been disastrous. Everything had gone wrong. Nothing was as it had been. Why did it all happen at the same time? She'd been relatively happy, not delirious with joy, but at least not hurting anyone but herself. Now, look at the mess!

There was only one thing she could do. Tough it out, tell Jim the truth. At least she could still live with herself. She ran cold water over the washcloth, dabbed at her eyes, patted her face dry. The truth. Oh, wow! But it had to be the truth-nothing else would work. She walked out of the bathroom, walked up to a very puzzled Jim. She felt like a little girl about to recite the alphabet her very first time.

"No."

Jim grinned cheerfully, and she knew she had a difficult job on her hands. "No, what?"

"No, I can't do it. I can't marry you."

"Honey, I know I'm ... older, and getting a little too heavy." The words seemed to hurt him, and she felt a pang of sympathy. "But, honest to God, you'll never find another man who loves you more than I do. I realize you're young, full of life and juice. But we're good together, you know. And all right, I'm not even asking you to be faithful to me, for Christ's sake." He stopped for a moment, his face screwed up in an agony of self-sacrifice. "I'll be on the road much of the time. Just as long as-" he sought desperately for the right phrase-"just as long as you don't rub my nose in it." He laughed, this time a hollow laughter. "After all, who am I to think I can give a wonderful kid like you all the good times you want and need? But I'll be nice to you, baby. I'll work hard for you, and for your little girl. Yes, and when I kick off, I'll be in a position to leave you enough to take care of both of you. Deedee, don't make me crawl! I can make life good for you. Please, baby." He searched her face for some sign of relenting. "I want to have you for my wife. I'm not all that old. You've been like a breath of fresh air to me, Deedee, and I need you to live."

Deedee shook her head, helplessly. "But my daughter-"

"I know. I had you checked out pretty thoroughly. I can't afford to take any chances, you know. I hope you will forgive me for that. Well, I'll give Maria a real home. I'll legally adopt her. See what I want to do, darling? I want to make this all fine and legal and legitimate. Know what I mean? Why should we have to hide? We'll do this thing the right way."

Face it, Deedee was saying to herself. Admit it. It's a very tempting offer. And if you take him up on it, you can go on for the rest of your life, destroying everyone who tries to be nice to you. Level with him, girl. He sure deserves a lot better than you.

"About checking me out," she said, straight-faced. "How far did you go?"

He put his shoes back on, limped to the bar, poured himself a drink before he answered. "I know your maiden name," he said, flatly. "I know your child's name. And I know the name of the father of your child. I also know you're not really a widow. And I know that you worked as a waitress and a B-girl in Baltimore. Okay. But that's all past, right? From here on out, Deedee, it can be you and me. I'll treat you like a princess. I'll give you everything you want, or need. I won't hold a tight leash on you, either. Well, what do you say? Oh, look. I know this has been kind of sudden for you." He barked a short, unhappy laugh. "It's been kind of sudden for me, too. I just spoke to my wife about it yesterday. I'll tell you what, Deedee. Don't answer me now. Just remember what I've said, what I've offered you. I know I'm not everything you want, but maybe I'm what you need. Think about it. Let me know your answer tomorrow, or the next day. I'll tell you. Let's get dressed and go out on the town. I'm trying to learn the Watusi. Can you imagine an old goat like me learning the Watusi?"

I can't do it to him, Deedee said to herself. He's too fine, too honest. She felt less than nothing, but she knew she had to perform a service or never be able to look at herself in a mirror again. "Jim," she said quietly. "You said you checked me out. Did you learn anything else?"

"What's to learn? So you got off to a bad start, but it was no fault of yours. So now you're knocking your brain out going to school, trying to get an education, trying to make something of yourself so your little girl can grow up decently. I say, God love you for it."

She nodded, took a deep breath, and plunged in. "Jim. How can I say it nicely? I don't think there is a nice way. Well-I'm a call girl, Jim, a whore."

He flushed. "Don't talk about our relationship like that, honey. I've never thought of it that way at all. You're a good kid, I love you, and I'm doing my damnedest to marry you. What we've done hasn't been bad or ugly or anything like that. Not to me. Why? Have people been talking? Some of your college chums?"

God! "Jim, I'm trying to tell you the truth. Don't make it any more difficult than it already is. I am a whore. I sell myself to the highest bidder. Ten, twenty, fifty bucks a trick. Four and five nights a week. That's it. There's no other way to say it. I'm sorry to have to break the news to you like this, but that's the way it is."

He looked at her, unbelievingly. "You're kidding?"

She shook her head, unable to speak.

Jim started to button his collar. Pulling his tie up, he got to his feet. "You-you're actually ... selling yourself?"

"Yes."

He let out a long sigh, a sound of utter defeat and confusion. "I guess I've been sort of a patsy, huh?" She didn't speak, and he went on. "Well, maybe it's been worth it. See, I had a lot of trouble at the house, then I met you, and this was like a real home to me. I thought I could make it clean and beautiful, and all that." He put on his coat. As an afterthought, he took out his wallet, thumbed through it, put two fifty-dollar bills on the desk. "For you," he said gravely, politely, with little inflection in his voice. "For you, until you can make other ... arrangements."

Jim walked to the door. "I've got a few things here, Deedee. Robe, slippers, a couple of pair of slacks and some sports shirts. I ... won't be sending for them. Throw them out, all right?" He seemed to collapse inward upon himself, suddenly several sizes smaller.

Deedee watched in silence as he went out the door.

Thursday fit neatly into the pattern, being no bargain either. Deedee, sick from the scene with Jim, wakened, struggled gamely to her feet, showered, and with a fuzzy mind went to her first class. As it ended she received the expected (and dreaded) call to the dean's office.

Crossing the campus, she resigned herself to the action she was sure awaited her. Mentally she began to count her resources, interrupting that chain of thought long enough to wonder who it was that had finally gotten to the dean. She hated to think it had been Ralph, and refused to think Jim might have taken such action. She returned to her original line of thought. Expulsion, she was positive, would be facing her. Perhaps she could get a transfer. Then she realized it would be out of the question. She went over her financial situation. If she could get into another school immediately-and that, she realized, was a very big "if"-she already had enough money salted away to make it through graduation, providing, of course, she lived carefully.

She swung in off the sidewalk up to the main door of the Administration Building, steeled herself and walked quietly down the echoing marble corridor to the office of the dean. There was his name, neatly lettered in gold on a mahogany plaque-Dean Norman R. Rusk. She took a deep shuddering breath, swung the door open.

"Miss Ryan," she announced herself to the secretary-receptionist. Was that a knowing smirk on the girl's face? "Dean Rusk called for me."

"Yes, of course. One moment, Miss Ryan." The girl pressed an intercom, whispered something into it in a muffled tone. "Go right in," she instructed, indicating a door behind her desk. "The dean is waiting for you."

She opened the door and stepped inside. She'd seen the dean only once before. He was a handsome, leonine-looking man, with a shaggy haircut, prominent features. He smoked a pipe, wore tweed suits, mostly baggy. He was the very picture of a college administrator.

"Miss Ryan?" he greeted her, stepping around from behind his desk. "Won't you please sit here?" He indicated a chair opposite his. "Sorry to call you from early classes, but it seems to me to be a rather important matter I must discuss-important for you, and for the university."

Deedee sat down nervously, crossing her slender legs. She cleared her throat. Dean Rusk went back behind the desk, studied a pile of papers that were before him. Finally he looked up. "Yes. Now then. Miss Ryan, I have some rather ... distressing information regarding you, and your conduct, both on, and off the campus."

Deedee's face reddened. "Is this information signed with anyone's name, or is it anonymous?"

"I don't feel that's of any importance. What is important is the truth or falsity of these-these accusations. Yes. Definitely. We can't afford to just ignore them, can we? No. Definitely not." He looked up at her over his glasses. "No point beating about the bush, eh? Some names named here," he added, patting the sheaf of papers. "Some names, dates, places. Miss Ryan, I must tell you, in all fairness, that I'd heard rumors of some of this ... er ... misconduct, before it was brought to my attention forcibly. Frankly, this document states categorically that you are a prostitute, a call girl. In short, that you have sold your favors for money both on and off the campus. It's signed-"and here he held the papers up for her to see-" by virtually an entire fraternity house: Delta. I can hardly ignore that, now, can I? I hope you can refute their accusation, naturally, but I do have to ask. Well?"

"He said he'd do it, and he-" she murmured, half to herself.

"What? What? Speak up."

She shook her head in resigned surrender. "It's-it's true, I suppose."

Dean Rusk looked at her in astonishment. "You don't want to refute this? Make a statement in your own defense?"

She bit her lip, stared steadily at the burnished desk top. "No. What's the use? It's probably exaggerated, but it's substantially correct, I'm sure."

Rusk shoved the papers back, lit his pipe, leaned back in his chair and looked at her paternally. "Really? A shame. You're a very attractive young lady, I should say. All the ... er ... physical attributes. Care to tell me how it got started?"

"You're going to expel me, Dean Rusk. So why do we have to go any further with this? I can't even say that I'm sorry. It was a necessary thing for me to do, so I did it. I'm not proud of it, but I did it. You see, I wanted a college degree more than anything in the world. So, now it's over and done with."

"Urn. Unfortunate, most unfortunate. You realize that we can't keep you on here? Unfortunately, there's this ... ah ... 'round-robin' type of letter. If it hadn't been for that, perhaps we could have worked out something, but I must take appropriate action now. Well, you can see where I stand, can't you? Nothing, really, I can do. Still, let me think." He looked at her appraisingly. "How are you set financially?"

"I have enough money to finish school," she said, dully.

"Capital, capital. I might be able to arrange a transfer for you. State. How does that sound?"

She looked up, a ray of hope in her glance. "State? Can you really do it?"

"Hmmm." His fingers drummed on the edge of the polished desk. "I might. I just might. Of course, I'd be putting myself in a terrible spot over there if you didn't ... well ... reform."

"Anything. Anything, just so I can finish my education, get my degree!"

"Ah. Just so. Well." He looked slightly embarrassed. "We'll have to talk about this. At length. You live alone?"

"Yes." Why, Deedee wondered, would he ask me that?

"Capital. Here, write down your address." He shoved a pad and pencil at her. "I'll stop by this evening, and we'll see what can be worked out."

Deedee, writing, looked up. "Oh?" she said, very softly.

"Just so." He beamed, with another fatherly look. "Shall we say about eight o'clock. We can discuss it in greater detail, away from these surroundings which, quite frankly, my dear, I find a bit too ... academic. Surroundings in which we can do some really constructive thinking, that is. I'm sure we can work out everything satisfactorily. I find you an extremely attractive young woman. You might call it a weakness of mine. You do understand though, don't you?"

Deedee pushed the pad back at him, her address clearly printed on it. "I understand," she answered gravely. "I understand perfectly. But Dean Rusk...."

"Yes, my dear?"

"Once. Just once. I'm willing to pay my transfer, but I'll only pay once?"

He smiled, inserting a tongue between his lips. "Just so. I find ... just once is enough at my age. Thank you for being so understanding."

"You guarantee the transfer, of course?"

"I'll get on it today and have the signed papers with me this evening. We'll each keep our end of the bargain. Just so." He rose from his desk, dismissing her. "Well, my dear. Au revoir. Until tonight, that is. I'm so glad we worked out everything. We're going to miss you, however, here at Blue Harbour."

Deedee, too, rose. She picked up her purse and a school book. "Yes. I'm sure you will. Well, until tonight."

She thought the receptionist had a smirk on her face as she left, going straight home to her apartment to pack. What pigs men really are!