Chapter 9

Vernice Branch was not at all as Mavis had expected her to be. The woman who answered the bell and opened the door of the neat house on Grand Concourse was about thirty, well dressed. Her figure was mature, high-breasted, her hips broad but proportionate, her legs long and shapely. Her hair style was attractive, and her face, though not beautiful-her mouth was too wide and her forehead too narrow-denoted character and firmness. When she smiled her best features were emphasized. The expression in her soft brown eyes indicated a warm and generous disposition coupled with a passionate nature.

She welcomed Mavis in a manner that instantly set the girl at ease and banished some of her gnawing doubts.

"So you're Mavis," she greeted. "Do come in. Watch the green paint. It's not quite dry. You're younger than I expected. Sam rather gave us the impression of a much more, er-sophisticated girl."

Not knowing the full meaning of the word Mavis was lost for a suitable reply. She smiled and stepped inside, her eyes busy. The place was well furnished, comfortable. It conveyed an atmosphere of staid respectability the girl could almost feel, like an tangible thing, pulsating and alive, and vaguely frightening.

"Sam's told us all about you," Vernice Branch confided. "I hope you'll be happy here."

"I'm sure I shall, Mrs. Branch."

"Please! Call me Vern. Everybody does. My husband gets home around five-thirty, at least that's when I expect him today. He travels, you know. Gets around a lot. You'll like George."

Mavis nodded. "Sam, your brother. He's nice," she said. "I hope my being here won't put you out."

"Definitely not. Were glad to have you. I suppose Sam told you about the baby?"

"Oh, yes. I'll be pleased to help out. But I work, you know. Three nights a week, sometimes four, evenings that is. I'm in show business."

"I know. Sam told me. We don't got out often. George is away from home a lot. Come, I'll show you your room."

The room was spacious, well furnished and tastefully decorated, a very different layout to the broken down flea-trap Mavis had shared back at Al's flophouse.

"It's lovely," she said, genuinely impressed.

"It was my mother's room. She died last fall. I think you'll find it comfortable."

"You're very kind, Mrs. Branch-Vern."

"Nonsense. I'll be glad of your company. I seldom see George except weekends. Would you like to see the baby?"

Mavis wasn't wildly enthusiastic but managed to put on a convincing act. Sight of the gurgling infant failed to rouse any dormant maternal instincts within her youthful breast. She viewed the red-faced mite with calm indifference. Something was obviously expected of her, so she smiled.

"She's cute," she said.

"He, dear," Vern corrected. "Gordon. Not a bit of trouble really. Oh, my! Look at the time. Soon as! you've freshened up, I'll serve lunch. Hungry?"

"Famished."

"Good. We're having pork chops with pie for s dessert. Sam said he might come over if he can make it." j. She laid a hand on Mavis' arm. "My dear," she said, g we're so very sorry about your friend. Perhaps I j-j shouldn't mention it but, well, I wanted you to know we sympathize."

The doorbell shrilled, saving Mavis further embarrassment. "That's probably Sam now," Vern said. "I'll get it."

It was Sam Davis. "Hello," he greeted Mavis. "I see you got here okay. Reckon you'll like it here?" He kissed his sister lightly.

"We're getting on just fine, Sam," she told him. "I hoped you'd make it. Lunch will be ready in a few minutes."

He lit a cigarette, offered the pack to Mavis. Vern didn't smoke.

"I'll have to eat and then blow right away," he informed them. "Some trouble out Central Park way. Jim's dropping by for me."

He seated himself, blew a series of smoke rings. "By the way," he said, looking at Mavis, "we pulled in that Rube Nolan punk-one of the hoodlums who jumped you that night. The tall slob. Remember? We'll need you to identify him."

"Me? But I only caught a glimpse of him. The lighting was bad. I remember he was tall, and he had a spotty face. But...."

"The Lieutenant wants you to look in anyway. You working this evening?"

"Yes, but I don't see."

"It won't be out of your way, then. It's in your own interests to see young punks like him put where they belong, isn't it?"

"I suppose so...."

"Okay. You have to pass the Court Square Police Station. Ask for Lieutenant Crawley. He won't keep you long. Hey! How about something to eat, Vern?"

"Coming right up, Sam."

By the end of the first week Mavis found herself liking Vern Branch more each day. Vern brought out the best in her, but her restlessness persisted, and she went in constant fear that Sam Davis would find out the true nature of her downtown night spot act and whom she was mixed up with. She had told Cash Moran about Davis and the baby-sitting setup, and he had okayed her working just three or four nights instead of every night as previously agreed. Moran didn't want any trouble with the cops over Mavis.

Vern treated her like an adult, helped her in numerous ways, gave her clothes, and acted more like a devoted elder sister than a stranger. But Mavis couldn't settle. She was soon bored. She felt cramped, hemmed in, and having to be home nights after the show didn't suit her or Moran, who was becoming increasingly insistent that she move in with him. Even . working three nights a week Mavis was making good money. But Moran wanted her full time. She was popular, quick to learn, and had a fresh, amateurish style different from the usual routine. It went down well with the jaded types who frequented the sleazy dive.

Living as she was, in two different worlds, with a foot on the fringe of each, was demoralizing. She had to pretend all the time to Vern, be continually on her guard against betraying herself. Yet she couldn't bring herself to make the break. A part of her accepted and was grateful for the sort of life Vern Branch offered. But the rest of her pulled strongly towards promiscuity and Cash Moran's glittering setup.

Sam Davis affected her intensely. During the first week he came by often, and she felt drawn to him physically. Yet she hesitated to openly declare her interst. In a way she was afraid of him, of what he represented, and she contrived to restrain her natural impulses where he was concerned in the hope that he would react to her sly hints and carefully planned overtures, and would take the initiative. More than once she had Sam all steamed up, but being as yet ignorant of her true nature and not realizing that her manoeuvres were intentional, he was careful to conceal the fact from her, thereby depriving himself of what could have been his for the asking.

Late on the Saturday night Vern's husband arrived home. Mavis had just got back from the strip joint and was taking a bath. Vern had gone to visit her cousin on Staten Island, taking the baby. She had said she'd be home by eleven. When Mavis heard the street door open and close she naturally assumed it was Vern coming in and walked out of the bathroom just as she was, stark naked, towelling her hair.

"You're just in time for a cup of coffee," she said, "had a good day? OH!"

She made a half-hearted attempt to cover herself, but the damage was done. George Branch was tall, lean, and the handsomest man Mavis had encountered since leaving Camden. With his high forehead and dark, unruly hair he reminded her vividly of Jimmy Leach, one of the boys she had played around with back home. George stood there with his hat tipped to the back of his head and regarded her with a look of blank astonishment.

A broad, appreciative grin curved his lips and put creases in his tanned cheeks.

"Excuse me," Mavis blurted. "I thought you were Vern...."

"Oh? For a moment you had me worried. I figured maybe I'd gotten into the wrong house. I thought I knew all Vern's friends."

"I'm not a friend. I mean, I am, in a way. Well, I live here...."

"The hell you do?"

His gaze seemed to penetrate clear through the bath towel. Mavis, her confidence restored, smiled. Covering one intimate area she contrived to expose another even more intimate. She adjusted the towel, but not too quickly. George Branch, quick to glimpse and appreciate the show of ripe breast and sleek thigh, began to peel off his light raincoat but didn't look away.

"It might be a good idea if you slipped on a robe or something," he suggested. "Not that I'm the bashful type, you understand. But if Vern should come in just about now she could get the wrong impression. Where is she, anyway?"

Mavis told him. Her surprise over, she turned and went back into the bathroom, treating George to an exciting view of smooth bare back and softly rounded buttocks all pink and glowing from the shower's steamy heat. When she returned, wearing a loosely tied robe, Vern's husband was raking around in the icebox for something to eat.

"This better?" Mavis asked.

"No, but its less disturbing," he told her. "You say you live here?"

She explained, briefly but adequately, while preparing coffee. George meanwhile fashioned himself a king-size sandwich and chewed thoughtfully.

"The arrangement suits me," he said presently. 'What do you think of the baby?"

"He's cute, and a lot of fun. Vern says you move around a lot. Are you staying long?"

"Until Tuesday, then I have to drive to Illinois. You're not a New Yorker?"

"Just a country girl. Actually I'm in show business."

The way she said it sounded impressive. He raised an eyebrow. Mavis poured coffee, leaned over to set the steaming cup in front of him. Her robe fell open and he could see into the deep valley between her breast. The warm, fresh smell of her youthful body was strong and provocating in his nostrils. He experienced a wild urge to thrust his hand inside the robe, and only the sound of a key turning in the latch of the street door checked his sudden impulse. Vern seemed surprised to see him.

"Darling!" she greeted. "If I'd known you were coming today I wouldn't have gone to Edith's. I see you've met Mavis...."

A trace of a frown clouded her face as she noticed the casual way in which Mavis' robe was held together. She went through the kitchen to the main bedroom and laid the sleeping baby in his cot.

"I'm just out of the shower," Mavis called. "The coffee's fresh if you'd like some."

"Thanks, I would. What a journey! Been in long, George?'

"About twenty minutes. Thought I was in the wrong apartment when I found Mavis here. Lucky I was sober."

Vern laughed. She closed the bedroom door, came up behind George and placed her arms around his neck.

"Miss me?" she asked. He reached for her, drew her around in front of him and kissed her.

"You know damn well I have," he said. "Gordon okay?"

"Fine. I see you've found the chicken. That's tomorrow's lunch I hope you know."

"So? You want I should starve?" Mavis rose to her feet.

"Gordon will need changing," she said. "I'll tend to that, then I'll say goodnight. I'm all about in. Thank God I can rest tomorrow."

"I'll see to baby presently," Vern said. "You run along. Did I tell you he's gained two pounds, George?"

"That so? Let's take a look."

"Well," Mavis said, "if you're sure there's nothing I can do I'll say goodnight...."

When she'd gone, Vern sipped her coffee for a while. "I hope it's all right," she said presently, "about Mavis, I mean. I didn't think you'd mind, and she's a nice girl, and very helpful."

"Anything you do is okay by me," he told her. He pulled her onto his knee and kissed her again, on the lips and then repeatedly on the neck and in the hollow of her throat, until a flush spread from her cheeks to her hair roots. He fondled her bosom, slid a hand up her clothing, ignoring her mild protests.

"Darling! Mavis might come back."

"Who cares? It's been over a week, honey."

"George!"

He laughed, stood up, swung her off her feet and carried her through into their bedroom. He heeled the door shut, set her down, took her in his arms. She stood on tip-toe with her arms around his neck and he lifted her clothing, gripped her taut buttocks through the flimsy nylon of her underwear, pulled her to him. "Hell!" he exclaimed hoarsely, "I've wanted you all week, Vern. But not like tonight."

She squirmed, pushing against him.

"So what are we standing here for?" she demanded softly.