Chapter 8
When the greyhound finally gave a hydraulic sneeze and stopped at the New York depot. Noreen was tired and grimy and very sick of busses. She vowed that the next time she traveled it would be in style. Her firm little behind felt as though someone had shot novocaine in it.
Noreen was nervous when she got off the bus. Somewhere around the station, she thought, there must be plainclothes men and women. But no one-so much as looked at her twice. She was just another pretty girl in the crowd.
She walked over to Eighth Avenue and went into a drugstore. She dialed the number Goldie Jeflers had given her. It was a Riverside number.
A limp female voice answered. "Yes?" There was a faint note of anxiety, of chronic fear, in the voice.
Noreen's quick mind assumed at once that she was talking to Yvonne Speers.
"Is this Yvonne Speers?"
"Who is this?"
"It's all right," Noreen said. "I'm a friend of Goldie Jeffers in Steel City. She told me to call you. She said to tell you the hanging man was still in the deck." She had memorized those words, though she had not the slightest idea what they meant. There had been no time for explanations. Goldie had just said something about Tarot cards and how Yvonne would understand.
Apparently she did, because she said quickly, "Is anything the matter? Is Goldie all right?"
"Fine." Noreen hoped she was telling the truth.
Before she could continue Yvonne said, "Come on up, honey. 410-12 West End Avenue. You got that? Repeat it."
As Noreen repeated the address she got the idea. The woman did not want to talk on the phone.
"Grab a cab," Yvonne said. "Apartment 4B. See you soon." She hung up.
On the way uptown in the taxi Noreen had time-to think. From what Goldie had told her of Yvonne Speers the girl was a prostitute, a call girl who had broken away from the syndicate and was working on her own. That's probably why she's so friendly, Noreen thought. She thinks I'm like her. That I'm one of Goldie and Ed's girls come to work in New York. Well, she would just have to put the woman straight on that, right from the start. But she hoped they would get along. She was alone in New York and desperately needed a friend. Yvonne must have a lot of connections in her business. Maybe she could help her get a job.
410-12 West End Avenue was near 79th. West End was a street of imposing looking apartment buildings, most of them with marquees and uniformed doormen.
Noreen went to the fourth floor in a rickety, open cage elevator and found 4B. There was a gargoyle knocker on the door and she let it fall with a brazen clangor. She was about to knock again when the door opened. A tall woman with gold hair cut short and close to her head stood there. Her eyes were a very dark blue. She smiled at Noreen.
"You're Goldie's friend?"
"Yes. Are you Yvonne?"
"Yes. Come in." She turned and left Noreen to follow.
Yvonne Speers walked with a long, hip swaying movement. She wore a short brocade jacket of white, with a gold dragon on the back. Her slim legs were displayed by skin tight toreador pants of black. She was bare-footed.
In a living room that seemed to Noreen to be as large as the lobby Yvonne gestured to a sola. "Sit down, honey. Drop that bag anywhere. Say, that looke like an old case of Goldie's."
Keeling strangely on the defensive, and very conscious of her youth, her inexperience and her nearly penniless condition, Noreen admitted that Goldie had given her the bag. "She was awful nice to me," she said. "I-well, I had to get out of Steel City fast and Goldie helped me a lot." She decided she would not tell Yvonne more about herself than was necessary. The fewer people who knew about her the better.
Yvonne settled in a chair, crossed her long legs, then sprang up. "I'm a hell of a hostess. You must be starved! How about a drink?"
"'I don't drink much. But I am hungry. If I could have a sandwich or something-"
"Sure, honey. Anything you want. Buddy keeps the refrigerator loaded. If I ate the way she does I'd be fat as a hog and never make a dime. But I'll have a short one first if you don't mind waiting, first today. And I been hung all day."
Yvonne made a face and poured more booze into the glass. "Oh-I needed that. Nothing like vodka, honey, to bring a corpse back to life. Last night I had a rough one. A tobacco buyer from North Carolina on his way to Africa. I thought that son-of-a-bitch would never get enough."
Noreen went to the bar. "Maybe I will have just one. I'm sort of beat. You got any wine?"
Yvonne finished her drink. "We got everything in the world, honey. You name it. One thing Buddy docs do, like keeping the food on tap, is keep a good bar. Only she don't drink much herself." Yvonne giggled. "I'm the one that really laps it up."
Noreen sipped at her small glass of wine. It was dry and tart and the first sip started the glow.
"Who is Buddy? Your roommate?"
Yvonne laughed, showing teeth that were white and a little too long. Noreen noticed that her throat was a bit crepy. She had thought Yvonne about twenty-five; now she changed her estimate to the early thirties.
"In a way you might call her my roommate," the woman said. She stopped and stared at Noreen with her dark blue eyes. "My God, honey, but you're young! Under all that goo I can tell. For God's sake take a bath and wash it off so I can tell what you really look like."
"Goldie did it," Noreen said a little petulantly. Of course she was young. But people didn't always have to be throwing it up to her.
Yvonne nodded as though she understood. "You on the run from the cops, kid?"
There was that kid again! But Noreen was determined to make this woman like her, to use her. Yet how much could she safely tell her?
She decided to compromise. Tell Yvonne as much as she had to, no more. So she said that she had gotten into a jam and had to leave town. Her folks were no good and didn't want her around.
Yvonne filled her glass again. "Don't mind me, honey, if I get half crocked. I got a mean one tonight. Some grease ball from the Coast. He wants to go wild for a lousy hundred bucks."
At the look on Noreen's face the woman laughed. "Never mind, honey. You'll find out what it means soon enough. But all this yak-yaking ain't getting you any food. Come on."
They went into a huge kitchen with spotless white walls, an old fashioned gas range and a tall refrigerator with the working parts in a metal cylinder atop-the box. The sink was narrow, with brass faucets, and had a time eroded wooden drain board.
Yvonne opened the door and started pulling out plates of food. Ham, cold chicken, jellied consomme. "They built these apartments in the year one," she laughed as she cut a crisp French loaf and put half a pound of butter before Noreen. "But I like it. God, we got nine rooms here! Ninety-five a month! Imagine it. Buddy's folks lived here twenty years before they died and then she got it."
Noreen munched at a huge sandwich. "You never did tell me who Buddy was."
Yvonne was sitting across the table from her. She lit a cigarette and peered at Noreen through the smoke. Her eyes were a little glassy from the vodka.
"If you been around Goldie Jeffers I guess you know the score. I don't know anything about you,-honey, and I ain't the nosey type. Don't tell me anymore than you want to. I'll help you out if I can. Favor to Goldie, and anyway I like your looks." Yvonne stopped to drain the last of her vodka.
"About Buddy Pressman and me-that's simple. Buddy is a butch. A Lesbian. You know anything about that?"
Noreen nodded, repressing a smile. Did she! Ask old Waffle.
Yvonne went on. "Now there's all sorts of relations between Lesbians. And between a Liz and a straight girl. Now I'm straight. I ain't queer myself. But Buddy is-she's the butch. The man in this house., I'm her fern. Buddy is in love with me. Wait a minute until I get some more vodka."
While Yvonne went down the long corridor to the living room Noreen found herself thinking that she certainly had a gift for getting herself into strange situations. But that needn't bother her. Yvonne was a friendly drunk, she could see that already, and just what she needed to get started in New York.
Noreen already felt her sell more than a match for the gold haired woman.
Yes, Noreen told herself. I can handle this one just the way I did Goldie. But how about this Buddy Pressman? The butch? She sounds like she might be tough. And it's her place. I gotta figure some way to keep her from throwing me out.
Noreen had already decided that she wanted to stay in this huge old apartment for a time, at least until she found her bearings. Maybe she wouldn't have to pay any rent at all. Might even get her food for free. She wanted to save every dime she could for clothes. If she could sponge off Buddy for a few weeks it would make all the difference. She decided that she must ingratiate herself with this Buddy when she met her.
Yvonne came back with a glass in one hand and the vodka bottle in the other. By now she was well along the way.
She settled down at the table, drank a shot of vodka, and looked at the platinum watch on her thin wrist. "Jesus. Almost eight. I got to start dressing soon. Got to meet this John in the lobby of the Waldorf." She peered at Noreen unsteadily. "I'll be all right. Good cold shower fix me up. Anyway I was telling you about Buddy."
She winked at Noreen. "One reason I went to get the bottle. See if she was in yet. Sometimes she comes in and I don't even hear her. Jealous as hell."
Noreen didn't quite get that. "But you say you go out every night, almost. How-"
Yvonne laughed. "Oh, she don't mind that. Not when I go with Johns. That's business. But if another butch looks at me-or a man! You know, a man. Not just a John. Then Buddy flips her wig. Mostly I don't fool around with anybody, though. I got it good here. Buddy pays all the bills, you see. I don't have to work if I don't want to."
Yvonne broke off to take another swig of vodka. "My last. This has gotta be my last. I don't wanna stand this John up."
Noreen decided to take advantage of Yvonne's condition. She might get one night's free lodging even if Buddy tossed her out in the morning.
"Could I stay here tonight? I've got no place to go vet. If I could stay here just tonight I can get out and find someplace tomorrow."
Yvonne laughed tipsily. "Bless my cotton picking heart, honey! We got three extra bedrooms here. My friends stay here all the time. Sure you can stay. Stay as long as you want. I'll make it all right with Buddy. She won't care."
"You sure?"
"Sure I'm sure. But I wanna know one thing, honey. You aiming to work this town. You know-you going to sell it?"
Slowly Noreen shook her head. "N-no! At least I don't think so. I sort of want to look around before I make up my mind about anything." She did not want to offend Yvonne by any hard and fast refusal to share her profession. She might be touchy and think Noreen was putting on airs.
But the other woman only nodded. "Well, you don't have to worry yet then. If you was going to work right away there would be a lot of things you would have to know. Like telephone codes and all that. We got a vice squad here in New York that is rough. You notice I didn't want to talk much on the phone? You never know when the bastards are tapping in. I been lucky so far. But if you ain't going to work you don't have to worry about all that. Plenty time anyway."
She gave Noreen a vacuous alcoholic smile. "And don't you worry about a 'lil old thing. Yvonne will take care of you. 'Cause you're a friend of old Goldie's. Good old Goldie. Heart big as the Empire States building. She tell you how I was on run from the syndicate?"
"She mentioned something about it."
"She helped me too. 'Course the bastards will get me sooner or later, I guess. Probably kill me. But that ain't your worry, honey. Now you go wash that goo off your face and go to bed. Do anything you want. Joint is yours. Buddy won't be home 'till late and I gotta work. C'mon, I'll show you your bedroom. "
Yvonne was swaying gently from wall to wall as she led the girl down the corridor to a large bedroom. She pointed out the bath.
"Take a good long tub," she advised. "Make you feel like new. You got the place all to yourself."
Noreen went into the living room to get her overnight case. When she came back she passed what was obviously the master bedroom. In the center was a great round Hollywood bed.
Yvonne stood naked in front of an ornate, gold chased mirror, full length, that hung on one of the pale green walls. Noreen had to admire Yvonne's figure. Tall, slim, with the thin arms and full breasts of a good model. Her neck was long and slim, with little hollows around the collar bone; her legs a perfect, slightly incurving taper from hard white buttocks to fine boned ankles. Her breasts, unlike Noreen's own firm and swelling bounty, were small and pointed with large brown nipples.
Yvonne looked up from examining herself in the mirror. She smiled at Noreen. "Not bad for an old bag, huh? Only it don't last long, honey. Not long at all. You got to get everything you can out of it while you can." She seemed, by some miracle, to have sobered completely.
When Yvonne turned to her Noreen saw that the golden hair, which she had thought too beautiful to be real, was natural after all.
What she did not see was the scores of tiny punctures in the tender white flesh of Yvonne's thighs.
Yvonne pulled a robe about her and came into the corridor. "Let me have the bath first, hon. I really got to run or this John will be steamed."
Mindful of what the woman had said about having the place to herself Noreen asked, "You don't bring your dates here, then?"
Yvonne laughed shrilly. "God, no! Buddy would throw a fit. Except one guy she lets me bring here. Teddy Phipps. Buddy feels sorry for him, I guess. She don't mind if he comes up. I guess she don't really consider him a man."
Noreen was intrigued. "Why not? Can't he do anything?" She had heard about impotent old men. "Is he too old?"
"Teddy? Hell, no. Young man. Handsome devil, too. Sometimes I wish he was all there. Not that I don't do what I can for him. But Teddy was in the Korean war. Poor unlucky bastard. He got a bad wound in a bad place."
Yvonne stepped into the shower. "See you tomorrow, honey. I'll leave a note about you for Buddy so she won't think I got a new girl friend. I bet you're sound asleep before I get out of the place."
"Goodnight. And thanks for everything. You been swell to me."
Noreen went into her bedroom and closed the door. She dropped the overnight case on the floor and took off her suit and carefully hung it in the closet before she collapsed on the bed.
There would be plenty of time for the bath tomorrow.
Noreen heard nothing. She was already fast asleep in her panties and bra. She was on her back, with one arm out-flung, her full young breasts rising and falling with each deep breath. In this perfect relaxation she looked what she was-a child. All her defenses were down, her soft red mouth screwed into a little pout, her long lashes making shadows on her cheekbones. She had neglected to turn off the light and the soft glow of tinted bulbs gave her perfect skin a tawny hue.
No man, seeing her now, could have thought of her as anything less than an angel. And no man could have been more mistaken.