The barman can hardly restrain a cry of surprise.
“With the ambassador?”
“No, with his niece.”
“Mademoiselle Abel,” says the barman, dryly. “I can understand that.”
“I’d like to meet her. .”
“She should be on the court right now. . I can tell you, though, she’s not an easy one to deal with. .”
The barman gives Charlie a sidelong glance.
“Ah, I get it,” he says with a smile of complicity. “You want to talk to her. . They’ll all be coming here tonight to dance. . But you have to be a member to get in. During the day you can come in here no problem, but at night it’s impossible. I can tell by looking at you that you’re no slouch with the ladies, but I’d be very surprised if that one would have anything to do with the son of a servant. . But let me think for a bit. . Not everyone here is a snob. I’ll ask Hansy; his father’s a rich industrialist, but he doesn’t let that go to his head. That’s it, I’ll ask Hansy to invite you. So when you get here tonight, all you do is say you’re a guest of Hansy and there won’t be any problem. .” He favours Charlie with a conspiratorial wink.
“It’s the least I can do for your father.”
“Thank you, sir.”
CHARLIE SITS in the sunlight watching the tennis match. Mademoiselle Abel is losing to a good-looking brunette. She’s in a foul mood. Every time she misses a shot, Charlie applauds loudly. She looks quickly but furiously at the bleachers. At the end of the match (a terrific smash by her opponent that she could only watch as it went past her) Charlie jumps to his feet and claps. The two women pass in front of him. The winner (the brunette bombshell) smiles at him discreetly; Mademoiselle Abel looks straight ahead.
IN CHARLIE’S MINISCULE ROOM. Nine o’clock at night.
“Who is it?”
“Fanfan.”
“Come in.”
“What’s happening, my man? You’re all dressed up like a prince. . You look like you got something big going on. .”
“How’s your principal friend?”
“I’m giving her a hard time. . Chico says she drives past the Rex Café ten times an hour. . You going to tell me where you’re going?”
“To the Bellevue Circle.”
“I hope you’re a member, otherwise they’ll kick your ass out of there. .That place is like a fortress for the bourgeoisie, and they guard it very jealously, my friend. . They’ll card you. .”
“I got an invitation.”
“Oh, well, that’s different. .”
“What’s the matter, Fanfan? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“If you want my advice, my friend, take off that suit, which you have obviously rented for the occasion.”
“But it’s a good suit. You said yourself I look like a prince.”
“Rule number one: don’t dress like a prince when you’re going among princes. You can’t compete with them on their own ground.”
“Okay, I understand. . How do you know so much, anyway? You’ve never been invited into a rich person’s home.”
“I’ve prepared myself for that eventuality. . And I’ll give you some more advice, too: pretend to be honest. Don’t try to hide anything. You’re a poor man and they’re rich, that’s all. You could be introducing them to a whole new universe. .”
“Look, Fanfan, I’m not going there to seduce the entire middle class. I’m going to meet a girl. .”
“What I said goes for any and all occasions, my friend. . See you around.”
DOORMAN AT the entrance.
“You ain’t a member.”
“I’m a guest of Hansy’s.”
“Wait here.”
He’s gone for several minutes (I hope the barman didn’t forget to warn Hansy), then comes back with a man who looks like a perpetual smiler, obviously a bon vivant.
“This guy says you invited him.”
“Charlie! Charlie, my old buddy! What are you doing standing here at the door? Hey, Muscle,” he says to the doorman, “don’t you recognize Charlie? He won the German tennis championship, first Haitian to ever place in the top ten. .”
Muscle gives Charlie a dubious look. He must be used to Hansy’s shenanigans.
“Don’t listen to him,” Charlie says quickly. “I don’t even know him. A friend of mine”—he didn’t want to betray the bar-man—“ asked him to invite me, seeing as I’m not a member.”
This time the look Muscle gives him contains a degree of astonishment. Hansy laughs so hard his sides are aching.
“What a kidder,” he says to Charlie, clapping him on the back.
Hansy shows Charlie around the club for a few moments. One of the morning’s players, the brunette bombshell, comes up to them.
“Thanks for encouraging me this morning,” she says with a slight American accent. She gives him a long, languorous wink.
“Don’t mention it,” Charlie says calmly, “I like the way you play. .”
“Really? You have no idea how happy that makes me! Thank you so much.” And she continues on her way, smiling.
“What did you say to her? I’ve never seen June so excited before. . Did you see that wink she gave you?”
“She’s a nice girl.”
“What? A nice girl? She’s marvellous, my friend. She’s the most beautiful woman I know.”
Hansy seems on the point of bursting with excitement.
“Don’t mind me,” he says, “I get like this. . I’m hypersensitive, you see. . But June. . I’ve never seen her like this. . And you take it so. . casually. . Oh, I see, she’s not the right gender for you, is that it?”
Without Charlie being aware of it, someone has come up to stand beside Hansy.
“Hansy, darling, what are you doing, talking to this imbecile?” “Who do you mean, Missie?” Hansy says, looking frantically about.
“The idiot standing in front of you, Hansy.”
“Him? Do you know him?”
“I saw him this morning.”
“Ah!” says Hansy, laughing. “It was you playing June, was it? Florence called me to say June absolutely wiped the court with someone this morning, but she wouldn’t tell me who it was. .”
“Oh, stop it, Hansy. As for him, I don’t know how he got in here, but. .”
“He’s here as my personal guest. . a dear friend. . Let me introduce you. . In the left corner, Missie Abel, tolerable as a tennis player but intolerable off the court. . And in the right corner, my good friend Charlie. . Let the games begin. .”
“I don’t know where you dig up your dear friends, Hansy, but for heaven’s sake you don’t have to drag them in here. .”
“I don’t think I need to mention that no holds are barred.”
“At any rate,” Charlie says evenly, “I don’t like bottle blondes. ”
“What! Me, a bottle blonde! You’re out of your mind! You don’t know what you’re talking about! You see, Hansy, I told you he was an idiot.”
“And worse than bottle blondes,” continues Charlie, “what I dislike even more are real blondes who never stop bragging about it.”
Missie’s mouth drops open.
“I’m going to get a whisky, Hansy,” Charlie says. “Do you want a drink?”
“I’ll have the same,” Hansy replies. “What about you, Missie?”
“What?” says Missie.
“Do you want something? Charlie’s getting the drinks.”
“No,” she says, barely managing a whisper.
Missie still seems to be suffering from shock.
“Technical knockout,” Hansy says, ending the bout.
“DID YOU SEE HANSY?” asks the barman.
“Yes, sir.”
“And how did it go with her?”
“The trap has been baited.”
“Let me buy you a drink. . What’ll it be?”