Chapter 9
The next morning at breakfast Noreen met Buddy Pressman. Buddy was a stout woman in her early forties. Big but not fat. She had thick shoulders and large breasts and piano stool legs.
She greeted Noreen warmly. "Good morning, I read Yvonne's note about you. Sit down and have some coffee. Toast?"
"Thanks." Noreen slid into a chair across the table. She felt clean and refreshed and happy, having just come from a fabulous tub and shower. She had used scads of Yvonne's bubble-bath and talcum. All of Goldie's pancake and grease paint had been scrubbed away and her complexion was radiant again.
Ruddy Pressman poured coffee from a big silver urn. "Are you planning to stay in New York, Noreen?"
Noreen was quick to take advantage of the friendly tone. "I want to. I hope I can. But I ain't-haven't got much money. And hardly any clothes. I'll have to get a job real fast. And I got to find a place to stay." She made her tone as wistful as possible, hoping Buddy would take the hint.
The older woman chose to ignore the gambit for the moment. She had an angular face with a thin hooked nose jutting over a wide mouth. Her brown eyes, large and slightly oval, studied the girl with sympathetic interest.
"What can you do? In the way of work, I mean? Is Yvonne going to help you?"
No mistaking the import of that question. "No," Noreen said firmly. "I'm not going to do that. I want to be a singer if I can. With a band. I got a good voice."
Buddy brushed a thick fingered hand over her mannish cut dark hair. Noreen, naive as she was, flushed as she read the look of mingled pity and amusement on Buddy's swarthy features.
"I do have a good voice," she said defiantly. "My high school teacher, and a lot of other people who have heard me sing, they all say so. All I need is a chance."
Buddy reached over and put her big hand over Noreen's small one. "All right. I wasn't laughing at you. It's just that so many girls-thousands of them every year-come to New York with the same idea. It isn't easy to get started, you know. It's tough as hell. Most girls give up after a time and go back home."
"I won't," Noreen told her sullenly. "I can't! I got to make it."
Buddy's deep brown eyes were shrewd. "Like that, eh?"
"Yes. Like that."
Buddy laughed and held up a hand. "Okay. Don't tell me anymore. I-don't want to know. You're one of the sisterhood. We're all remittance women here, in a manner of speaking."
"I don't know what that means. I a-haven't got much education yet. But I'll get it."
Buddy patted her hand again. Noreen wondered if the woman's hand didn't linger just a little too long, then decided it was her imagination. The experience with Waffle had made her leery.
"It means that your folks send you money to stay away from home," Buddy said wryly. "The checks keep coming as long as you never go back. It happened to me. Right here in New York. I had an apartment in the Village and the folks paid all my bills as long as I never stepped foot in this apartment. Then they died and I got it anyway. They hated me because I was queer."
"My folks just hate me period," Noreen said. "At least my old man. My Mom is drunk half the time and don't know what's going on."
After that the talk was of one thing and another until they were on the last cup of coffee. Yvonne, Buddy said, was in bed. She never got up much before three. Especially after a hard night. Ruddy was staying home from her office today. She ran a small, practically one woman advertising agency. Cheap fashion accounts, patent medicines, honeymoon tours, etc.
"It's a good deal," she admitted as they went into the living room to smoke a cigarette. They took the coffee cups with them and sat on the sofa together.
"I make more than I would working for a big 4A outfit," Buddy explained. "I do my own layout, write my own copy, and I'm account executive too. The works. Of course I have help-two girls that are learning the business, and an artist." She exhaled smoke through her nostrils and leaned back against the sofa, her stout legs crossed. Noreen sipped her coffee and kept silent. She knew better than-to come right out and ask to be allowed to stay in the apartment. The initiative must come from Buddy.
It came in the next moment. "I'm wondering how I could work you in?" Buddy leaned to put her cup on the glass topped table. "You don't have any experience at all, I suppose? Any business experience, I mean? Can you type of take dictation?"
The girl nodded. "I can type pretty good. I took it in high school. My shorthand is lousy, though." And I don't want to be any lousy typist, she added mentally. I'm going to be a singer. But in the meantime she had better play along with Buddy. Any sort of a job would help for a few weeks. Especially if free board and room went with it.
Buddy put her hand on Noreen's bare knee. The girl was wearing a borrowed robe of Yvonne's, and it had fallen away. Noreen tensed for a moment, then relaxed. This was somehow very different from her experience with Matron Ayers. Buddy's hand was warm and dry, the pressure merely friendly. After a moment the hand was removed.
"You come into the office Monday," Buddy told her. "I'll put you to work doing something. I like you, Noreen. I like you a lot. You stay here until you can find a place. Plenty of room, as you can see.
She stood up. "Well, I'd better get Yvonne's tray ready. God, but I spoil that woman! Breakfast in bed every day I'm home."
Buddy leaned over and kissed Noreen on the lips. Just a momentary pressure which the girl did not find repulsive. The brown eyes smiled down at her. "Don't get any ideas. I love Yvonne. That's just because I like you."
At the door she paused and looked back. "You have any money at all?"
"About a hundred and twenty dollars."
Buddy frowned. "That won't last long in New York. Tell you what-I'll give you an advance on salary Monday. And I suppose you need clothes? Yes. Well, you can use my chargeplate at Bonwit-Tellers next week. Up to three hundred. I'll take it out of your salary a little every week. Okay?"
"God, yes," exclaimed Noreen. "You're swell to me, Buddy. You and Yvonne both. I'm sure lucky I found such good friends."
Buddy regarded her for a long moment. She smiled faintly. "It might be just as well if you didn't mention any of this to Yvonne. About the clothes, anyway. Not even the job until after Monday. Okay?"
"Sure. If you say so. Anything you say, Buddy"
"Right. Now I've got to fix that tray before she starts yelling."
When she had gone Noreen curled up on the sofa, feeling a lot like the cat that has just eaten an especially plump canary. It looked like she was really in. Buddy liked her. Then her native intelligence asserted itself. What was behind all this? The usual thing? Noreen just didn't know. What she did know was that she would have to be careful. This was a potentially explosive situation.
How explosive she was not to find out until late Saturday evening, when the top of the world fell in.
That weekend she lounged around the apartment, eating and drinking, and watching Yvonne tell her own fortune with the Tarot cards. Buddy was gone to Long Island on business.
That long Saturday afternoon, with no date, Yvonne drank huge quantities of vodka and gloomily shuffled the Tarot deck over and over. The hanging man came up with great frequency. This card was the picture of a man in medieval knave's costume, dangling from his ankle from a gibbet. There was a look of excruciating agony on his face, like that of a character in one of Bosch's terrible paintings.
The look on Yvonne's face, as the hanging man came up again and again, was almost as bad. "God," she moaned. "I'm going to die soon! Look! Every damned time. Something terrible is going to happen." And she would pour herself another drink of vodka.
When the hanging man came up for the thirteenth time Yvonne cursed and threw the deck of twenty-two picture cards across the. room. "Something terrible is going to happen to me," she moaned as she hurried toward the bar for more vodka. "The cards have never been this bad."
Noreen examined the cards. Yvonne had explained that they were very old. She was hazy on the exact history of the Tarot deck, but she thought that the gypsies in ancient Italy had first used them to tell fortunes.
Noreen was looking at the hanging man, understanding now the password that Goldie had given her, when the gargoyle on the front door banged.
Yvonne picked up the vodka bottle and dashed for the bedroom. "You get it, Noreen. It's probably Teddy Phipps. Jesus, I clean forgot he was coining up today. Keep him happy until I get some clothes on. But not too happy, mind. He belongs to me." She gave Noreen her silly, friendly smile and staggered a little as she left die room. Noreen went to the door. The man standing there was incredibly beautiful. That was the word. Beautiful! Noreen's first impression was that of a lovely woman dresse'd in man's clothes. She was staring when he smiled, displaying perfect teeth, and said: "I'm Teddy Phipps. I have a date with Yvonne. May I come in?"
Noreen stepped aside to let him pass. "Sure, I'm Noreen. Noreen Casey. I-I'm staying here with Yvonne and Buddy."
"Oh?Is Buddy home?"
"No. She's gone to Long Island on business."
They went into the living room. Noreen explained that Yvonne was getting dressed.
"Pity," smiled Teddy Phipps. "She'll only have to take it off again, won't she?"
Noreen couldn't help giggling as she remembered what Yvonne had told her about Teddy. About the war wound. Instantly she felt contrition. It was cruel to think that way. Why, he was probably a hero!
She watched as Teddy approached the bar. He was tall, but of slight build. There was something vaguely feminine in the way he walked, but nothing of the woman in his build or mannerisms. He wore an expensive gray palm beach suit. His hair was dark brown, inclined to curl even though it was clipped very close to his well formed skull. His skin was so flawless, with the blood showing through, that Noreen wondered if he ever had to shave.
Teddy fixed himself a scotch and water and turned from the bar. He held up the glass. "To a very beautiful young girl. I take it that you are the latest addition to Maison Buddy's?"
Noreen liked him. She smiled and went to the bar. "If that means what I think it means I ain't. I mean I'm not. I'm just staying here until I can find a place of my own."
"Oh? A wise decision." He held his glass high and made a little bow in her direction. "A whore's life, like a policeman's, is not a happy one. But then who does have a happy life?"
Noreen saw that he was a little tight. His eyes, large and of an absurd violet color in a man, were a trifle glassy.
Noreen helped herself to an unusually large glass of wine. She suddenly felt good, almost gay. She had a home, at least for a time, and she was safe from the police. She was well fed and clean and Monday there would be all the new clothes. And now here was this strangely beautiful young man who talked so funny.
On impulse she asked, "Do you always talk like this? Screwy, I mean?"
Teddy Phipps filled his glass again. "Only when I am bombed. It's a defense thing, you see. Rather like the clown who laughs to keep from crying! I stay swacked most of the time so I won't have time to think. You know about me of course? Yvonne has a busy tongue."
Noreen finished her wine and refilled the glass before she looked at him. Then: "She did tell me you were wounded in Korea."
This time there was a tinge of bitterness in his laughter. "That is the understatement of the century. Wounded? I was deprived of all that used to be most precious in my life. A judgement, some would call it, for being a satyr when I was young-and a whole man. You do know what a satyr is?"
Noreen felt no anger at the trace of amusement in his tone. Usually she would have flared up, but now she smiled at him. "No, I don't. I'm dumb as hell."
"No matter. And don't mind my superior manner. The defense thing again. I don't really mean it. And a eunuch cannot offend in any case. But not to change the subject, where in hell is Yvonne?"
"I told you. Changing. She'll be along soon." Noreen found herself hoping that Yvonne would be a long time. She was liking Teddy more and more. For once she didn't have to fight a man off.
He went over to pick up the scattered Tarot deck. "I see she's been at it again. She scares herself to death with these things. Silly, superstitious nonsense."
"Yvonne doesn't think so."
"Yvonne is a beautiful moron. But perhaps I shouldn't say that. She is very good to me."
She noticed that he was picking up the Tarot cards one at a time, bending over each time, then straightening up completely before he bent for the next card. When he had gathered all the cards he tossed them on the floor again and did the whole thing over.
"Why do you do that?"
"Good for the waistline-. Best in the world if you do it a couple of hundred times a day. I learned the trick from a jockey."
Noreen took a sip of wine. "Your waistline looks okay. Why, it's nearly as small as mine. Why do you worry?"
He picked up the last card and looked at her in surprise. "You mean Yvonne didn't tell you that too?"
"No. Tell me what?"
"About my job? That I'm a female impersonator."
Anyway she asked, "What's that?"
Teddy riffled the deck of Tarot cards in his white tapering fingers. He gave her a look of mock disdain. "My dear child-"
Noreen, who by now was feeling the wine, put her glass down on the bar with a clatter. "If just one more person calls me that I'll scream. I am not a child! I busted-I mean broke-out of reform school and fooled all the cops and got all the way to New York! And they ain't-aren't-never going to catch me. Don't tell me a child could do that!"
For once Teddy's aplomb was broken. His jaw had fallen a little. "I take it all back! You're only a child as far as beauty is concerned! You really did do that?"
Noreen felt instant remorse. She stared at him, her fingers to her red mouth. "I did. But promise you won't tell anybody."
He came to the bar to refill his glass. He made her another toast. "Of course I won't. As they say in the English detective novels-I ain't no nark. To you, my dear. The most beautiful escapee I ever met."
They clinked glasses. By now Noreen was getting tight. "Okay. So what's a female impersonator?"
Teddy swayed a little and clutched at the bar. "A profession, my dear, a profession. Maybe the fifth or sixth oldest. I wouldn't know. But let me begin at the beginning, since we have lots of time and it is quite obvious that Yvonne has passed out.
"Look at me. Observe my beauty. I say it without shame. In the twenties I could have posed for the Arrow Collar ads, no? Yes. Okay. I have always had a skin like this, a build like this. My parents wanted a girl and thought they had one until they looked closer. But don't get me wrong. I was all man. Still am. Or would be if I had anything to be a man with. No chance!"
Sudden pity suffused Noreen. Tears welled in her eyes. She swayed against him and stroked his smooth cheek. "Poor Teddy. Poor, poor baby."
"Poor Teddy indeed. Until I stepped on a mine on Porkchop Hill I was Adonis. Immediately afterward I became Venus. In a manner of speaking. But I must admit that a contributing factor was that I am very lazy. I can also dance and sing, having planned a career on the stage or in the movies before the-accident.
"So, to make a long story short, I came to New York to forget. And play the piano. I play a real mean piano. But instead an agent, a most astute man by name of Mauri King-and a louse if I ever saw one-saw me and asked me if I wished to earn a lot of bucks as a female impersonator? I thought why not? In a way, you see, it was an instance of the old adage being true-sweet are the uses of adversity."
"I wish I could talk like you," Noreen murmured.
"You talk swell. All them-those-big words. Only trouble is I can't understand you half of the time." By now the room was filled with a rose glow.
"I can't understand myself half of the time. And you speak very well. At least you are trying. But let. me get back. I figured that as long as I am what I am I might as well capitalize on it. I did. I took lessons, from another female impersonator. And I was amazed. Marvelous what one can do with a little rubber and plastic, and a wig, and the proper girdle. They love me at the Sawbuck Club in the Village. I make two notes a week for five performances. Which reminds me-" Teddy glanced at his wrist. "Jesus! I'll be late. Tell Yvonne I hope she had a nice nap."
"Tell her yourself, honey."
They turned from the bar to see Yvonne swaying in the door. She clung to the sides. She was naked except for a pair of black patent leather pumps with six inch spike heels. In one hand she carried the empty vodka bottle.
Yvonne waved the bottle at them. "Hi, honeys. You two having fun? Me too." She took a step into the room and stumbled, falling to her knees. She remained so, her small pointed breasts hobbling as she laughed. "Get me. Drunk as skunk. Sorry, Teddy boy. But had bad day. Tarot cards say I'm gonna die soon. Gotta get drunk first."
Teddy glanced at his watch again, then at Noreen. "Come on. I'll help you put her to bed, then I've got to run. I've got to get back to the apartment and dress."
As they started for Yvonne the sound of the door knocker came heavily into the room. Teddy looked at Noreen again. "Expecting anyone?"
"Not me. I don't know anybody in town."
"Prolly for me," giggled Yvonne. She staggered to her feet. "Prolly old friends. I'll answer door."
She went staggering toward the foyer, still carrying the vodka bottle.
Teddy made a move to intercept her but she slipped past him with a shriek of laughter. "No. Lemme lone. Maybe Fuller brush man. I'll give 'em helluva shock."
The knocker pounded again, reverberating through the house. Whoever was at the door was becoming impatient.
They heard Yvonne fumbling with the door. Teddy shrugged his thin shoulders at Noreen. "I hope to God it isn't the gendarmes. You can't do a thing with her when she's like this."
Yvonne screamed. A short high yelp of terror that was cut short. There were sounds of a struggle in the foyer.
"What the hell!" Teddy started for the foyer, motioning Noreen to remain where she was.
Two husky, hard-faced men came into the room shoving the naked woman before them. One of them, an ape of a man in a gray chalk stripe suit, was gagging her with his hand. Yvonne was kicking and struggling, but the man handled her as though she were a doll.
Teddy Phipps had been brushed aside by the other man. Now he leaped forward, his fists raised. Noreen huddled on the sofa, shocked and staring. Were the men cops? For her?
The other man showed Teddy a pistol. "Back off, Buster. Take it easy. We ain't gonna hurt you or the other doll." The man with the gun looked at Noreen. "You ain't bad, sister. You a friend of this little two-timer?" With the pistol he indicated Yvonne, who was still struggling in the iron grip of the bigger man.
Noreen understood then. These weren't cops. These were the men from the syndicate that Goldie had mentioned. Come to take revenge on Yvonne. Noreen thought fast. She wanted out of there-right now.
"N-no," she stammered. "I-I was just paying a visit."
The man with the pistol nodded curtly and looked at Teddy Phipps. Teddy was standing near the bar, looking as though he might pick up a bottle and hurl it. Noreen had to admire his courage."
"Don't do anything silly," the man with the gun said to Teddy. "Take your hand away from that bottle! What you doing here?"
"Miss Speers is a friend of mine," Teddy said coldly. "You had better let her alone. The police-"
The big man, still holding the struggling Yvonne as though she were a rag doll, laughed harshly. "Get him, Hymie! The cops, he says. Maybe you better teach nancy boy some nice manners."
The man with the gun stared at Teddy and Noreen with eyes as cold and deadly as a snake. "Naw," he said finally. "We ain't getting paid for no extras. Our job is with the frail there. You two get out. Fast!"
Yvonne made a strangling sound behind the big hand clamped over her mouth. Her blue eyes, wild with terror, pleaded with Noreen. She kicked at the man holding her. He put his free hand on one of her breasts and twisted it brutally. Yvonne tried to scream and slumped forward.
The gunman said: "I told you two to get out. So go. I gotta tell you again it's trouble. For you."
Teddy Phipps surrendered. He looked at Noreen. "We'd better go. There's nothing we can do to help her."
"Now you talk like a wise character," said the big man. "Scram. Stay scrammed. Call the cops all you want. We ain't gonna be here that long."
Noreen said, her voice trembling. She tore her eyes away from those of the half fainting Yvonne. "I'll have to get my stuff. M-my bag and purse and-"
"So get them!" The gunman took a step toward her. "I'll go with you just in case you got ideas about the phone." He looked at the big man holding Yvonne. "You can handle Nancy here alone?"
The big man stared at Teddy with contempt. He laughed. "I can handle a dozen like him. Go on, get 'em out of here. I wanna get this job over with." He reached into his pocket and brought an old-fashioned straight razor.
Teddy, his voice shaking with terror, gasped, "By God! What are you going to do to her? You can't-"
With a flick of his wrist the big man brought the glittering steel free of the sheath. He waved it at Teddy. "Shut up or you'll get it too."
He squeezed one of Yvonne's firm breasts again as she writhed and screamed behind his gagging hand. Her knees buckled and she sagged in his grip, her eyes rolled back in her head with only the whites showing.
Noreen was near fainting herself as she got her things from the bedroom. The man with the gun watched her coldly, without speaking. When they got back into the living room the scene was the same. Teddy stood near the bar, his face a frozen mask of rage and horror, and Yvonne still slumped unconscious in the big man's grip.
"Just a little beginning," the big man grinned at his companion. "Sort of a shame, ain't it? These are nice."
"Goddamned fiends!" Teddy lashed at them.
"Shut up and get going," snapped the man with the gun. "Now!"
He pushed them toward the door. "You try to come back, or start any trouble for five minutes, somebody gets killed. You're real smart you'll forget all about this. Better for your health that way."
As the door closed behind them they heard a stilled moan from the living room.
The instant they were in the hallway Teddy grabbed Noreen's hand and raced for the stairs. "Come on, we've got to get to a phone and call the police! I think there's one in the lobby!"
He dragged her down the stairs at a breakneck pace, her high heels tripping her up half a dozen times. As they reached the last flight of stairs she gasped, "I can't get mixed up with the cops! They'll send me back."
"Okay-okay. You go on out and down to the next corner. To the left. 79th Street. I'll be there as soon as I make the call."
There was a phone booth in the lobby. Teddy gave Noreen a little push toward the entrance, then went into the booth. Noreen turned left and walked rapidly to the corner. She was sick and shaking inside at what she had seen. She felt so dizzy that at the corner she had to stop and lean against a building for support. She shivered and closed her eyes for a moment. Goldie had certainly been right about the syndicate! The Tarot cards had been right, too. Poor, poor Yvonne! She was all through as an expensive call girl now.
Maybe Buddy would still love and take care of Yvonne, though. Noreen hoped so.
Her thoughts came back to her own plight. She was homeless again. For the moment, at least. Maybe she could go back, later, but she disliked that idea. There were sure to be cops around now.
She had her overnight case, her purse with about a hundred dollars, and the suit she stood in. Just as she had gotten off the bus. Damn, Noreen thought. Damn-DAMN! There would be no job with Buddy now, either, or any charge account at Bonwit-Tellers. Cops. Cops snooping everywhere. Later, she mused, she might take a chance on contacting Buddy and meeting her someplace. But for right not she was out in the cold again.
Teddy Phipps touched her on the arm. He was livid, his delicate girl's mouth a thin red gash. "Come on, Noreen. We can't do anything more for her. The cops are on die way. Taxi!"
In the cab, headed downtown, he took her hand in his. "You're trembling. I don't blame you. I've got a bad case of the shakes myself. God, that was an awful thing to see! I felt so damned helpless. I was, too. And scared. Jesus, what a poor excuse for a man I am. Man!" He laughed bitterly. "I guess that mine on Pork Chop Hill took away more than I thought. I should have gone after them with a bottle."
Noreen squeezed his hand. "You did everything you could," she comforted. "I thought you were real brave, the way you stood up to them. I was paralyzed."
They rode a little way in silence. The cab was on the West Side Highway now, making for 14th Street and the Village. Noreen was content for the moment to drift along with Teddy. Maybe he could help her find a place to stay.
"Do you think the cops will get them?" she asked.
Teddy shook his head gloomily. "No. I'll bet they were out of there before I got through calling. I didn't see them, but that doesn't mean anything. Probably used a service entrance at the rear. I feel sick. I'm sober again, too. All that booze wasted. Well, I can sure as hell do something about that!"
"I can use a drink myself," the girl admitted. "I'm shaky."
"In a way we were lucky," Teddy said. "Those men must be from out of town. They didn't care if we saw them or not. Lucky for us. They're probably on their way right now to catch a plane back to where they came from."
Chicago, thought Noreen. If they were sent by the syndicate that Goldie told me about. Must be. How close I came to getting mixed up in it. If I'd gone to Chicago with Ed Jeffers!
"Poor little Yvonne," Teddy said sadly. "I wonder what she got mixed up in?"
Noreen decided to keep her own consul. She hardly knew Teddy Phipps. The less he knew about her the better.
He sighed. "One thing-those damned Tarot cards of hers were right for once." He glanced at his wrist. "Can't you hurry it a little, driver. Please."
They were passing the Hudson River piers now. Noreen saw the huge white bow of the Queen Mary shining in the spotlights.
"God, I need a drink," Teddy moaned. "And Christ how I hate to work tonight. But I'd better. They couldn't get a sub this late."
He glanced at Noreen. "I forgot. You've got nowhere to go, have you?"
"No."
"Any money?"
"A little."
"Then you had better come home with me for now. I've got a studio couch you can have. Later, when I calm down enough to think, we'll see what to do about you. Okay?"
She took his hand. "Thanks a lot, Teddy. I was wondering what I was going to do."
His voice dry, he said, "Well, at least you can sleep in peace. You won't have to be afraid of me. Now let's go get that drink. Hurry, driver!"