Chapter 13
The next three weeks were the happiest of Noreen's life. She and Hank Butler went about the business of falling in love without speaking of it, or even being conscious of what was happening. When they were not working together on the routines, or he was not composing, they swam and lolled on the beach which they had all to themselves.
Hank never touched her or attempted to make love to her. He had taken to long silences and sometimes he would look at her with his dark eyes full of shadows and his thin face inscrutable.
He had told her about his TB the first week. They were on the beach, drying in the sun after just coming out of the surf.
"This sun is good for me," he admitted. "Keeps me going. I've got the bug, Mary. Or did you know?"
She admitted that she knew.
He smiled wryly. "It's no secret, I guess. Does it show much?"
Noreen was idly piling sand over his legs. "You're way too skinny," she told him severely. "And you cough too much and look like you have a fever all the time. Oh, Hank, why do you wait! Why don't you go in the hospital before it's too late!"
"In the fall," he said stubbornly. "I know what I'm doing. I talked to the doc the other day. He says I'm in an arrested stage. Anyway I've got to finish my concerto first. I'm really getting along with it now. It's good, Mary. I know it's good. Maybe this is the one I get published and performed. Then I'll be on my way. A success. Somebody. Because of something I did all by myself. Then, after that, I'll turn myself into the VA and get cured. It will be okay. You'll see."
"I hope so," she told him softly. Suddenly she wanted to take him in her arms and hold him. Nothing more. Just hold him.
Noreen could understand this man. She who wanted so much to be somebody.
It was Rocco Blase who brought matters to a head. The fat man had undergone a subtle change in his attitude toward Noreen. He seemed to be always around, and several times when the customers had been too obnoxious Rocco had thrown them out bodily. He was immensely strong and when he got his bulk behind a man and pushed the man went.
One afternoon, at the beginning of her fourth week at the Lighthouse, he sent for Noreen. She went to the tiny office on the second floor. Noreen was carrying her swim suit and a towel, dressed in the scantiest of sun suits because she was meeting Hank later for a swim.
Rocco was wedged in behind his desk, his vast buttocks overflowing the chair. His silk sport shirt could have been used for a circus tent and through the thin material the girl could see his great wobbly breasts, like those of a plump woman.
"Sit down." Rocco pointed to a chair before his desk. His little eyes roved over Noreen's bare legs. She sank into the chair, tugging down the shorts as best she could. She was uneasily aware that her firm breasts were almost bursting out of the wispy bra. She had become so at ease with Hank, who never appeared to notice what she wore, that she had grown careless. Now Rocco's eyes were devouring her.
Rocco leaned forward with a grunt. "You like it here, Mary, huh?"
"Oh, yes, Rocco! I'll be sorry when we close up for the winter."
He grunted again. "Yeah. You're a good girl, Mary. Beautiful girl. Customers like you, too." He gave her a sly grin. "They not bother you so much now that Rocco looks out for you, huh?"
Noreen, wondering where all this was leading, said that there had been a marked decrease in the pinching and buttock feeling.
Rocco nodded and half closed his small eyes. He hesitated for a moment, then said, "How you like to marry Rocco? I'll take good care of you. Rocco is a very rich man?"
It came so suddenly that Noreen did not have time to think, to handle it properly. It was too much of a shock out of the blue. She burst into laughter. "Marry you, Rocco! Oh, don't be silly!"
Instantly she knew she had made a mistake. Something changed in Rocco's eyes. For a moment Noreen got the impression of looking at an enormous toad with cold, merciless eyes.
Rocco's high squeaky voice changed, too. No longer was it merely ludicrous in a man of his bulk. Now it held a soft undernote of menace. "You laugh at Rocco, huh? You think I'm too fat, too old and ugly for a beautiful dame like you?"
Desperately she tried to retrieve her error, knowing in her heart that it was useless. Who would have thought that this grotesque fat man had so much vanity?
"I wasn't laughing," she stammered. "Really I wasn't, Rocco. It's just that, well, you took me so much by surprise! I never thought-I never dreamed that you felt that way. I-I just didn't know what to say at first. I still don't. Gosh, Rocco, why would you want to marry me?" She let her words trail off, feeling futile and foolish and, for the first time now in weeks, frightened again.
Rocco's voice was soft. "Maybe you're in love with that piano player, huh?"
Her face gave her away. Before she could deny it he said, "So that's it, huh? Rocco is right. You love Hank. But you make a mistake, Mary. Hank is a bum. Also a sick man. He thinks he can write music, huh? Maybe. Maybe not. If he does he's still a bum. Who starves more than musicians? You make a big mistake, Mary, if you pass up Rocco for that bum. I gotta half million bucks salted away. You marry me you get it all when I die."
Maternal instinct, always close beneath her hard exterior, made her fly to Hank's defense. "You leave Hank out of this," she flared. "What if I do love him? That's my business! Hank is a sick man now, but he'll get well. And he'll write good music, too. You see if he don't!"
"If he stays alive," Rocco said. It was just a statement, with no particular inflection on the words, yet panic gripped Noreen. For once in her life she was thinking of someone other than herself.
Her smoky gray eyes, more striking than ever in her tanned face, stared at the fat man. "Y-you wouldn't hurt Hank!"
Rocco lifted one hand from the desk in a gesture of deprecation. "Hurt him? Naw. This ain't old times, huh? Everything legit now. Even bump-offs. Naw. I meant maybe he dies of the bug, Mary. Then maybe you wish you had listened to old Rocco, huh?"
Noreen stood up abruptly. Her legs were trembling. She had to get out of there before she said something that would make matters worse. "I got to go, Rocco. Thanks for-for asking me to marry you. But I can't. I hope you ain-aren't sore? But it wouldn't work. It really wouldn't. Rocco. I'm sorry."
Rocco smiled gently, the movement almost hidden in his flabby face. He pointed a pudgy finger at the chair. "Sit down, Mary. Rocco is not through yet."
She sank into the chair again, her heart thumping.
"Like in the song," Rocco said. "Rocco gets what Rocco wants. Rocco wants you, Mary. Maybe Rocco gets you, maybe he don't. But one thing for sure-no bum piano player gets what Rocco wants."
Noreen stifled a hot retort. She remembered what Hank had told her about this fat man-that he had once been associated with Murder, Inc. She was too young to know anything about that, but the very name was enough to chill her blood. Noreen forced herself to be calm. She must wangle a way out of this somehow. Nothing must happen to Hank.
Rocco was looking at a paper he had just taken from his desk. "You think you fool old Rocco, huh? Hah! You're a baby, Noreen. A beautiful baby. Rocco's baby."
She looked at him, stunned. Noreen?
"Noreen Casey," Rocco went on calmly. "Wanted back in Illinois. Broke out of a girl's stir. Slugged a matron. You was in for a two bit job-breaking in a cheap tavern." He let the paper flutter to the desk. "Yeah, some kid."
Noreen looked him in the eye. "All right. So what?"
Rocco clasped his fat hands. "So maybe nothing. I'm a squealer? I just don't want you, a baby, to think old Rocco was born yesterday. A real doll like you come to a place like this there is a reason, huh? Fur sure you 'ain't no professional canary. So Rocco sends a couple boys to talk to that bum agent. He talks in one minute. So Rocco knows for a long time about you."
It explained why Mauri King had never carried out his sly threat to visit her at the Lighthouse.
By now her nerve was back. Noreen tried to lean back in the chair, to appear relaxed. "So what are you going to do about it, Rocco? What do you want me to do?"
His voice took on a warmer note. "Okay. Now maybe you're getting wise, huh? Maybe we get along yet. Now you listen to Rocco."
Noreen smiled weakly. He's cunning, she thought. I mustn't overdo it. But he's a man after all. A horrible fat slug of a man, but still a man. I should be able to handle him if I go about it right.
"It looks like you win, Rocco." She slumped in the chair, the picture of dejection, letting the shorts ride up as they pleased. Let him look her over all he pleased. It might help. Noreen knew that she was going to need every inch, every point of advantage, she could gain.
"I gotta gang coming up here tonight," Rocco said. "All men. This is strictly business. Maybe you and the bum play a little, sing a little, but not much. We got important yakking to do. The gang will be here two or three days. Until this is over we do nothing. You act like normal with Hank, huh? Tell him nothin'. Only stay away from him, you understand, except maybe for playing, huh? Rocco don't like damaged stuff, huh? I think maybe you ain't been around too much, huh?"
Even then, with her heart sick with fear for Hank, Noreen could not resist the opportunity to revenge herself on Mauri King. She had an idea that Rocco meant what he said-he did not like damaged goods. And already he thought he owned her.
"I was a virgin until I met Mauri King," she said solemnly. "Honest, Rocco. He made me do it-in his office. He was going to turn me over to the cops if I didn't."
The fat man studied her. "You telling me the truth, baby. Don't never lie to Rocco." I swear it.
The sharks moved again in Rocco's small eyes. "Okay. I believe it. But no hurry. Rocco will take care of him. Now like I said I'll be busy as hell for two, three days. Then we go down to Brooklyn, get married, huh? I gotta nice place in Brooklyn. Out in Seagate. Big place. Ten rooms. Rocco will get you a mink for a wedding present. Also a check for five Gs you spend anyhow you want. Clothes, anything, huh?"
Noreen stood up again. "All right, Rocco. I won't tell you I want to do this. Maybe I don't. Maybe I even love Hank, like you say. But I have to look after myself, I know that. I like money like any girl. So I know when I'm beat. I don't want to go back to that reform school. So I'll do what you want. Only you got to promise to leave Hank alone! You hurt him and the whole thing is off." It was as close to a threat as she dared make, but if her thinking about Rocco was correct he would respect her for it. She must sell him a bill of goods. She must convince him that she was a great deal like himself.
Rocco pulled himself up, grunting. "Okay. A deal.
You stay away from Hank until this business is over. Sing, yes, but that's all. When you leave he can stay-maybe even I'll raise his salary."
"Thanks, Rocco. I will." She added, quite truthfully. "There has never been anything between us, honest."
"This I know." Rocco laughed his high pitched note. "I got eyes. Also I got a pair expensive field glasses and a roof. You keep it that way and Hank will be okay. You don't maybe he has an accident."
At the look on her face he continued. "Nothing fatal, huh? Just maybe a couple broke arms, legs, skull fracture. Be out of the hospital in a year maybe, huh? S'long, baby. See you later. No monkey business."
"No monkey business, Rocco." She posed for a moment by the door, letting his eyes sweep over her. She adjusted her tiny halter, nearly letting one creamy breast escape. "I'm going to be as expensive as hell, Rocco. I won't kid. Long as you're buying me you have to pay. Plenty."
There was a fool hidden somewhere in that fat carcass.
Rocco said: "I got it to pay with, baby. We talk the same language, huh? Rocco ain't never been wrong about a dame yet. Now beat it. I got work."
Noreen went back to her room. Hank would be waiting for her on the beach but that couldn't be helped. She sat on the bed a long time, deep in thought.
Finally she went to the window and looked out. It was a sheer drop of nearly twenty feet to the ground. That wouldn't have been so bad, because of the sand, but just below the window was a pile of old beer cases. Noreen cursed softly. Damn the beer cases. They were as effective as a fence. No way to avoid them. She would break a leg, or cut herself to bits.
She looked up. A gutter was just out of reach. But maybe if she stood on the ledge and reached out and up!
Noreen took a quick look around outside. No one was about. She climbed on the ledge and, reaching, tested the tin gutter. It squeaked and groaned at the pull, but held firm. Of course with her whole weight on it-well, that would have to be risked. Once on the roof she could cross the peak and drop on the sand on the far side of die building where it sloped close to the ground.
Now to warn Hank.