Eve (4 page)

I still didn’t believe him. “Let’s have her in,” I said, laughing at him. “After all, a hundred dollars isn’t a great deal of money. I might offer more.”

He struggled out of his chair. He was drunk, but there was a lot of weight in his shoulders. If he caught me when I wasn’t ready for him, he might do me some damage. I backed away.

“Now don’t get excited,” I said, giving ground as he crowded me. “We can settle this without fighting about it. Let’s get her in . . .”

“She’s had a hundred bucks from me,” he said, speaking in a low furious voice. “I’ve waited eight weeks for this. When I asked her to come away with me she said all right. But when I went to her place her goddam maid said she was out. Four times she pulled that trick on me and each time I knew she was upstairs laughing at me and watching me from her window. But I wanted her. I was a sucker, see? I raised the price every time I called. And she came when I said a hundred bucks. It was all right until you turned up. Neither you nor any other monkey will stop me now.”

He made me feel a little sick. I still only half believed him, but I was certain I could not have him in the cabin any longer. He had to go.

I took out my wallet and tossed a hundred dollar note at his feet. As an afterthought I added another ten. “Get out,” I said. “There’s your money with interest.”

He stared down at the money, blood leaving his face. He made a soft choking noise as if he were trying to clear the phlegm in his throat. Then he raised his face and I saw I had a fight on my hands. I did not want to fight him, but if he wanted it that way, he could have it.

He shuffled towards me, his long arms held forwards as if he were going to tackle me. When he was within reach, he made a grab at me. I did not avoid him, but stepped close and slammed my fist in his face and ripped down. The big signet ring I wore on my little finger ploughed a furrow in his cheek. He rocked back with a grunting gasp and I hit him again on the bridge of his nose. He went down heavily on his hands and knees. Then I walked over to him and deliberately taking aim, I kicked him under his chin. His head snapped back and he collapsed on the carpet. He was finished and he hadn’t even touched me.

Eve stood in the doorway watching. Her eyes were wide with surprise.

I smiled at her. “It’s all right,” I said, blowing on my knuckles. “Go back to bed. He’s leaving in a moment.”

“You didn’t have to kick him,” she said coldly.

“No.” I liked the flash of anger in her eyes. “I shouldn’t have done that. I guess I got mad. I wish you’d go away.”

She went then and I heard the bedroom door close.

Barrow sat up shakily and put his hand to his face. Blood ran down his fingers onto his cuff. He looked at it stupidly and then touched his throat.

I sat on the table and watched him. “You’ve got a two mile walk to Big Bear Lake. You can’t miss the road. Just keep straight on downhill. There’s a hotel before you reach the lake. They’ll put you up. Now, beat it.”

He did something I hadn’t expected from him. He put his hands to his face and wept. That told me he was yellow right through.

“Get up and beat it,” I said in disgust. “You make me sick.”

He got up and moved to the door. His arm was across his eyes and he was snivelling like a kid who’s hurt.

I picked up the hundred and ten dollar bills and shoved them into his top pocket.

He actually thanked me. He was as yellow as that.

I took him to the front door, gave him his bag that stood in the lobby and shoved him into the rain.

“I don’t like your kind,” I said, “so keep out of my way.”

I watched him move down the stoop, then the rain and the wind and the dark closed around him.

I shut and locked the door and stood in the lobby. I had a tight feeling in my chest and head and I badly wanted a drink. But there was one thing I had to know which wouldn’t wait for a drink. I went to my bedroom and pushed open the door.

Eve stood by the dressing table, her arms locked tightly across her breasts. Her eyes were watchful.

“He’s gone,” I said, remaining in the doorway. “I gave him the hundred dollars you owed him and he actually thanked me.”

There was no change in her expression, nor did she say any-thing. She had the stillness of a cornered, dangerous animal.

I eyed her. “Don’t you feel sorry for him?”

Her mouth tightened in contempt. “Why should I feel sorry for any man?”

When she said that I knew what she was. I didn’t have to kid myself any longer. I really hadn’t thought that Barrow was lying. The stuff about the maid and how he had bargained was too smooth to be a lie. I was hoping it was a lie, but now, I knew it wasn’t.

So she was anybody’s woman. No one would have known it to look at her. She had ignored me. She — a woman who was looked upon by society as an outcast — had had the audacity to ignore me. I suddenly wanted to hurt her as I never had wanted to hurt anyone before.

“He told me he’d bought you,” I said, moving into the room and closing the door. “You’re very deceptive, aren’t you? You know I really didn’t think you would be for sale. A hundred dollars, wasn’t it? Well, I’ve taken you over, only don’t think I am paying any more. I’m not, because I can’t imagine you could be worth more than a hundred dollars to me.”

She didn’t move nor did her wooden expression change. Her eyes were a shade darker and the sides of her nostrils had gone white. She leaned against the dressing table, one small white hand playing with a heavy brass ashtray that happened to be at her side.

I walked over to her. “It’s no use looking at me like that. I’m not afraid of you. Come on, show me what you can do.”

As I reached out for her, she suddenly whipped up the ashtray and smashed it down on my head.

CHAPTER FOUR

IT is true to say that most men lead two lives — a normal life and a secret life. Society is, of course, only able to judge a man’s character by his normal life. If he makes a mistake, however, and his secret life becomes public property, then he is judged by his own secret standards and is, more often than not, ostracized as a punishment. In spite of this, he is still the same man who, a moment before, received the plaudits of Society. At least, he is the same man with the one important difference: he has been found out.

By now, because of my complete frankness, you may have come to the conclusion that I am an exceedingly unpleasant person. You may even have decided that I am unethical, dishonest, vain and worthless. These conclusions are not due to your insight and perception, they are due entirely to my own frankness.

If you met me socially, if you became my friend, you would find me quite as agreeable as any one of your other friends because I should be most careful always to be at my best in your company.

I would not bother with such an elementary point as this if it were not for the fact that you may wonder why Carol loved me. Even now I remember her with deep attachment. She was a person of great sincerity and integrity. I would not like you to judge her by my standards because she loved me.

Carol knew only that part of my nature that I chose to reveal to her. Towards the end of our association, circumstances became so difficult to control that she did finally discover my faults. But up to that time, I hoodwinked her as successfully as some of you are hoodwinking those who love you.

It was because Carol was always understanding and sym-pathetic that, after staying two days at Three Point, following the night I first met Eve, I drove into Hollywood to see her.

The service station at San Bernardino had taken care of my car. They had told me that they had also taken care of the Packard. As I drove down the hill road from Big Bear Lake, I came upon a gang of men working on the obstruction in the road. They had nearly cleared it, but I had some difficulty in passing. The foreman of the gang knew me and he had planks laid across the soft ground and a bunch of men practically carried the car over.

I reached Carol’s apartment off Sunset Strip about seven o’clock. Frances, her maid, told me she had only just returned from the Studios and was changing.

“But come right in, Mr. Thurston,” she said, beaming at me. “She won’t be but a few minutes.”

I followed her ample form into Carol’s living room. It was a nice room, modern and quiet and the concealed lighting was restful. I wandered around while Frances fixed me a highball. She always made a fuss over me and Carol had once laughingly told me that Frances considered me her most distinguished visitor.

I sat down and admired the room. It was simply furnished. The chair and large settee were of grey suede and the hangings were wine coloured.

“Every time I come into this room,” I said, taking the highball Frances offered me, “I like it better. I must ask Miss Rae to get me out some designs for my place.”

Carol came in while I was speaking. She was wearing a foamy negligée, caught in at her waist by a broad red sash, and her hair was dressed loosely to her shoulders.

I thought she looked pretty good. She wasn’t a beauty — at least, she wasn’t stamped from the Hollywood mould. She reminded me, as she came in, of Hepburn. She was the same build, nicely put together with the right things in the right places. Her complexion was pale which offset her scarlet lips and her skin seemed to have been pulled too tightly across her face, revealing the bone structure. Her eyes, her best feature, were big, intelligent and alive.

“Why, hello, Clive,” she said gaily, coming swiftly across the room. She held a cigarette in an eighteen-inch holder. The long holder was her only mannerism. It was a clever one because it showed off her beautiful hands and wrists. “Where have you been these last three days?” Then she paused and looked questioning at my bruised forehead. “What have you been doing?”

I took her hands. “Fighting a wild woman,” I said, smiling down at her.

“I might have guessed that,” she said, glancing at my knuckles, still skinned from the punch I’d given Barrow. “She must have been a very wild woman.”

“Oh, she was,” I said, leading her to the settee. “The wildest woman in California. I’ve come all the way from Three Point to tell you about her.”

Carol settled herself in the corner of the settee and drew her legs up under her.

“I think I’ll have a highball,” she said to Frances. A little of her gaiety had gone from her eyes. “I have a feeling Mr. Thurston’s going to shock me.”

“Nonsense,” I said. “I hope to interest you, but that’s all. I’m the one who’s shocked.” I sat down by her side and took her hand. “Have you been working very hard today? There are smudges under your eyes. They suit you, of course, but do they mean tears and toil or are you, at last, becoming dissolute?”

Carol sighed. “I’ve been working. I have no time to be dissolute and I’m sure I’d be very bad at it. I am never any good at anything that doesn’t interest me.” She took the highball from Frances and smiled her thanks.

Frances went away.

“Now,” she went on, “tell me about your wild woman. Are you in love with her?”

I looked at her sharply. “Why do you think I must fall in love with every woman I met? I’m in love with you.”

“So you are.” She patted my hand. “I must remember that. Only, after three days without seeing you, I was wondering if you had dropped me. So you’re not in love with her?”

“Don’t be tiresome Carol,” I said, not liking her mood. “I’m most certainly not in love with her,” and settling back against the cushions I told her about the storm, Barrow and Eve. But, I didn’t give her all the details.

“Well, go on,” she said as I paused to finger the bruise on my forehead. “After she had laid you out, what did she do? Pour water over you or skip with your wallet?”

“She skipped without my wallet. She didn’t take a thing . . . she wasn’t the type. Don’t get this woman wrong, Carol, she isn’t the usual kind of hustler.”

“They seldom are,” Carol murmured smiling at me.

I ignored that. “While I was unconscious, she must have dressed, packed her grip and gone off into the storm. That was quite a thing to do . . . it was blowing and raining like hell.”

Carol studied my face. “After all, Clive, even a hustler has her pride. You were rather beastly to her. In a way, I admired her for knocking you on your conceited head. Who was the man, do you suppose?”

“Barrow? I have no idea. He looked like a travelling salesman. Just the kind of jerk who’d pay a woman to go out with him.”

I hadn’t told Carol about giving Barrow the hundred and ten dollars. I didn’t think she’d understand that part of the story.

“I suppose you didn’t want to get rid of him so you could have a heart to heart chat with the lady?”

I felt suddenly irritated that she should have touched truth so quickly. “Really, Carol,” I said sharply, “a woman of that type doesn’t appeal to me. Aren’t you being a little ridiculous?”

“Sorry,” she said, wandering over to the window. There was a pause, then she went on, “Peter Tennett said he’d be over. Will you have supper with us?”

“I now regretted telling her about Eve. “Not tonight,” I said, “I’m tied up. Is he calling for you?”

I wasn’t tied up, but I had an idea at the back of my mind and I wanted the evening to myself.

“Yes, but you know Peter . . . he’s always late.”

I knew Peter Tennett all right. He was the only one of Carol’s friends who gave me an inferiority complex. But I liked him. He was a grand guy. We got along fine together, but he had too many genuine talents for me. He was producer, director, script writer, and technical adviser all rolled into one. Everything he undertook had, so far, been successful. He had the magic touch and he ranked as number one at the Studios. I hated to think what he made in a year.

“Can’t you really come?” Carol asked, a little wistfully. “You ought to see more of Peter. He might do something for you.”

Lately, Carol had been continually suggesting various people who might put something in my way. It irritated me that she should think I needed help.

“Do something for me?” I repeated, forcing a laugh. “What on earth could he do for me? Why, Carol, I’m getting along fine . . . I don’t need any help.”