Chapter 11
Three days later fate kicked Noreen squarely in her beautiful little behind. She was alone in the apartment when the phone rang. It was Mauri King, the agent.
"You better get down here right away," he said. "I think maybe I got something for you. And come dressed like a woman, huh? Can you make it in an hour?"
As she dressed hurriedly she felt a few qualms. Teddy did not like or trust Mauri King, and had often warned her against being alone with him. So far she never had. Should she call Teddy, who was rehearsing a new number at the club, and tell him about the agent's call?
Then she decided against it. Mauri King was nothing but a little old man who thought he was a wolf. Skinny, drooling, runny-eyed. Hell, she could handle the likes of him any day.
Noreen wore a new pair of high heels which enhanced her already perfect legs. She brushed on a scarlet mouth in the manner Teddy had taught her, used eye shadow and mascara and was ready. I don't look much like the girl who ran away from Sunny View, she told herself as she preened before the makeup mirror in Teddy's room. Poor dear Teddy. There had been no repetition of the love making between them, if you could call it that. Not that she would have refused him but Teddy had been morose and distant since that night. Noreen knew the trouble. Teddy was half in love with her, and mourning over what might have been.
The agent's office was' on Eighth Avenue, near 49th. It was not a good neighborhood, but Noreen did not know that and wouldn't have cared.
It was after four when she entered the dingy little office. The frosted glass door stood ajar so she walked in. She found herself in an outer office that was hardly more than broom closet size. Through another glass door she heard the slow tick-lock of a typewriter operated by an unfamiliar hand.
Noreen rapped on the glass. "Mr. King?"
The machine stilled. "Come on in," called the agent's voice.
She opened the door. The agent sat behind a battered old desk in his shirt sleeves, staring at a piece of paper in the machine before him.
"I came as quick as I could," Noreen explained.
"Okay. Sit down. I'll be with you in a minute." He pointed to a greasy black leather couch in one corner of the room and went back to his typing.
As Noreen obeyed she felt a slight queasiness. She had expected someone else to be present. Maybe someone who wanted to audition her. Certainly she had assumed that King had a secretary.
Noreen glanced up to see him staring at her legs, his pale blue eyes a little protuberant, the red veins lurking in them like scarlet spider webs. Noreen pulled her dress down over her knees as far as it would go. She felt the uneasiness return. Cod! She hoped this wasn't going to turn out to be another false alarm, and that King wasn't going to chase her around the office.
If he turns out that way, she thought fiercely, I'll paste him with something. So help me I will! She let her glance rest on a heavy glass paperweight on his desk. That would be just the thing.
King was in no hurry to speak. He let his glance rove up her long thighs to her breasts, so large and firm under her thin blouse. "Teddy was right," he said at last. "You're all dame. A looker. How old are you, anyway?"
"Twenty-four," Noreen lied.
"Yeah?" He dabbed at the corner of his moist lips with a dirty handkerchief. "You close the door out there?"
Noreen knew when to be firm. "No, I didn't. And I'm not going to, Mr. King. What did you want with me, anyway? Is it a job?"
He pushed back his chair and stood up. There was something sly about his smile. "You're a hard-boiled little doll, ain't you? But no matter. I'll go close the door myself. We got business to discuss and I don't want to be disturbed."
As he made a move toward the outer office Noreen leaped to her feet. "No you don't! I-I'm not staying here alone with you. If you really got a job for me we can talk about it with the door open. And I warn you, Mr. King, I can scream real loud! I'm strong, too. I'll bet a lot stronger than you!"
No doubt of that, she told herself. King was wearing a soiled, wilted shirt that showed his scrawny neck and pipestem arms. She could handle him easily.
He walked back to the desk and opened a drawer and took something out of it. He ripped the sheet of paper out of the typewriter and handed both the objects to the girl. "Take a look at those, sister, before you do any screaming."
Noreen sank slowly back onto the couch, her stomach convulsing, staring at the pictures in her hand. It was a prison picture of herself, taken that first day in Sunny View. Three views, front, right and left profiles. She was wearing the hated seersucker dress, the white stockings and the cheap Mary-Lou shoes.
"You look a little mad there," King said. He was lounging on the side of the desk, lighting a cigarette. "Don't blame you. But there ain't any doubt about who it is, is there? Not when I see you in real woman's clothes, there ain't. I thought I had you made as soon as I saw the pix, but I wanted to be sure."
Noreen shot him a glance of hatred. "How-where did you get this?"
"Routine." He waved the cigarette in the air. "All agents get 'em. Or most. In New York at least. A girl runs away from a place like that where do the cops figure they'll head? New York, Chicago, some big burg. They figure they can hide better in a big town. And when they got ambitions about the stage, or singing-well, you see how it is. Just routine. Must be five thousand of those over the country. I just happened to pick you out of the crowd, you might say. Lucky for you it wasn't some other agent, huh? A guy who ain't as understanding as me. Now do I close that door? But maybe you better read the letter I was writing first."
Noreen, her fingers trembling, glanced down at the sheet of paper. It was not finished, or signed, but one look was enough. It was addressed to the Chief of Police in Steel City.
"I don't want to send the letter," Mauri King wheezed. "I sure don't want to. But that's up to you. Now do I close the door and we talk?
"Use your head," the agent wheedled, his watery eyes crawling over her body. "What you got to lose, baby? You be nice to me and it's just our little secret. And I meant it about the job-I got you booked into The Lighthouse out on Montauk Point. Fifty a week and your board and room. And the tips are good." He chuckled, a greasy sound. "I'll even run up every now and then and keep you company. What do you say, kid? Ain't it a lot better than being on the run again? I know you got no dough, no friends. What else can you do?"
Noreen glared at him hotly. "Teddy said you were a louse!"
King laughed, a nasty sound. "That little wonder. I got a little score to settle with him, too. The little bastard-trying to ring a con in on me like this. I can get him in plenty of trouble too, believe me, unless you play ball. Aiding a fugitive will be just one of the charges."
"You leave Teddy alone, you filthy bastard." Noreen was on her feet again, her eyes flashing fire. "He's worth a hundred of you!"
King held up a hand. "Okay-okay! Don't get so hot! Nothing is going to happen to Teddy boy if you play ball. Only you ain't staying with him no more, and you ain't going to tell him what happened today."
Noreen still hesitated, but only for a moment. She knew she was beaten.
"You're telling me the truth about the job on wherever it is?"
"Montauk Point. Yeah, sure. It's the McCoy, baby. It ain't classy but a lot of big spenders go there. The guy that owns it, Rocco, just called me this morning. Wants a singer right away-tomorrow night. I told him I had a natural. You, baby. You wanta get started this is your chance. What do you say? Do I close the door-and lock it?"
The girl regarded him with icy gray eyes, her red mouth curled in contempt. "You dirty rat! This the only way you can get it-blackmailing girls?"
He flushed. "Never mind that! Don't get so snotty. I can still mail that letter, you know, or call the city cops."
Noreen decided. She was caught. She might as well do it and get it over with. Probably it would hurt. But that would pass. And once she had done it she would be safe again. King would never dare tell the police after he seduced her.
"Lock the door," she said wearily. "But hurry. And you take it easy. I never done it before."
He stared at her, his loose mouth drooping. A thin strand of milky spittle dangled from his lower hp..
"You-you never did?"
"No! NO! You want a doctor's report?" She was trembling with rage, trying to restrain her flaming Irish temper. She longed to pick up the glass paperweight and smash in his ugly face. After all her struggling, her fight to keep herself intact-now this. In a crummy office with a nasty degenerate like King. But Noreen was a girl who faced facts. She was trapped. So make the best of it. At least she would have a job, and Montauk Point, wherever that was, sounded like a good place to hide.
"If you're lying about the job," she spat on him, "I'll get you. I'll give myself up and say you raped me. That's a promise, Mr. Bastard!"
"The job is there just like I said. King darted into the outer office. She heard the door close and the snick of the lock. Well-here it was.
When he came back she avoided his gaze. She already felt dirty, used and tarnished. But she was still thinking straight. "You got anything? I don't want to get in trouble."
"I got something." The agent reached in his pocket. "Got them this morning. I been counting on this ever since I saw that picture. I figured you would come across."
Noreen took off her suit coat and blouse. The man stood watching, licking his lips. She unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor.
"My God," he exclaimed, "you're something! You're really something, kid!"
She turned her back on him and walked-to the couch. "Come on, you filthy sonofabitch. Get it over with. Don't touch me anywhere you don't have to. And don't try to kiss me. I'll throw up right in your face."