«I’ll say only with you.»
«I’ll say you never tried anyone else.»
«I’ll say that’s because you believe everything I tell you.»
«I’ll say—»
It was a game of ours. First one who couldn’t get past the «I’ll say—» got a punch on the shoulder, which usually developed into all sorts of other things. In this case it was Shirley who failed, so I kissed her shoulder and she said, «No-o-o-o, you idiot, I’ve got to get ready.»
So I took a quick shower, dressed and went back home to change underwear and shirt, shave, and make myself look as beautiful as a late-spring morning. Then I went down to the hotel on that beautiful spring morning of Memorial Day.
My conscience was still clear.
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I think Asimov dedicated this book to Harlan Ellison because of the checks he signed with that name.
Darius Just
Quite the contrary; out of sincere admiration.
Isaac Asimov
2 MARY ANN LIPSKY 10:45 A.M.
I got to the hotel at about ten forty-five. Giles Devore and Isaac Asimov were scheduled to keep on signing books till eleven, so they were still at it, but that didn’t bother me any.
I wasn’t going to catch the last few minutes.
I found out afterward what the autographing arrangements were. A big room was used and it was the only room that might officially be used at the convention for the autographing of books, though lesser objects such as book announcements could be signed at the booths. At one end of the room was a stage at which both signers sat, and the line moved up to the first signer, then to the second signer, with each person guaranteed two free books.
I don’t suppose any of the twelve thousand people who attended the convention walked off without something free.
If not a signed book, then an unsigned one, a gizmo, a promotion device. There wasn’t a booth that didn’t have someone pushing something on somebody. Some booths were giving out shopping bags into which you could put the stuff that the other booths were emitting.
I made my way to the Prism Press booth, but neither Tom nor Teresa was there. I recognized the bored young lady who was in charge as Mary Ann Lipsky, who was Teresa’s secretary. Apparently they were making at least one underling work on Memorial Day.
Mary Ann was a pleasant girl, not very pretty, with a complexion that tended to the mottle and a voice that tended to the lisp, but pretty is as pretty does sometimes, and I could always count on her to be helpful when I was having some sort of hassle with the Valiers. It is always good to have a spy in the enemy camp. So I said, «And how is my lovely princess of Prism?»
She cheered up at once and said, «Hello, Mr. Just.»
«No business at the booth?»
She wrinkled her nose. «Not very much.»
I said, «Where is the Tsar and the Tsarina?»
She said, «The Tsarina is with Mr. Devore at the autographing.»
«Oh yes, she said she would be.»
«And the Tsar is off in conference somewhere.»
«And you don’t know when they’ll be back?»
«The Tsarina might be back after the autographing, but I don’t think so, and I don’t know about the Tsar at all.»
«Oh well, I won’t wait, unless you and I—underneath the chair—»
«Everyone will see us, Mr. Just.»
«That’s the best part,» I said gravely.
She laughed, and I felt good at having spread the cheer about.
I said, «May I leave a note for them?»
«Sure,» she said.
I scrawled: «Tried to talk to Giles, but absolutely no go!»
I folded the paper and gave it to Mary Ann, who put it under a book. She smiled at me affectionately and then turned to talk, with animation, to someone inquiring about someone.
I bet myself a resigned nine to five that the Valiers would decide either that I hadn’t talked to Giles at all or that I had yelled at him (as they would undoubtedly hear) and had ruined everything just as he was about to become compliance itself.
Well, I was armored in truth and in the memory of a successful night, so I didn’t give a damn.
I asked after Roseann at a few logical places, but couldn’t find her or, for that matter, anyone I knew. Then I wandered past a booth where a cookbook was being pushed and where slivers of cake were being handed out in consequence. I kept passing and repassing and had five slivers, each with a kind of vanilla icing that wasn’t bad. I like sweet things; cake, too.
I went on a deliberate scouting expedition to see what else was being given out in the form of comestibles and had a free cola drink. It was a pity I had made up my mind to attend the lunch and listen to Douglas of Hentsau, Jr., because I could have made a great meal on the freebies without ever insulting my uninsultable digestion.
3 MARTIN WALTERS 12:10 P.M.
It was somewhat after noon when I wandered up to the banquet room and found the doors closed and a sign that said it would open at twelve-thirty. That was when it was scheduled to begin, so I don’t know why I was surprised.
Every ten seconds a party of two or three tried moving in, promptly got shooed out by some waiter, and walked out looking annoyed and embarrassed.
A young man of about twenty-two (I should judge) standing near me and, I suppose, impressed by my distantly superior attitude, as though I knew far too much to try to get into a door I couldn’t get into, asked if I were a writer.
I confessed my guilt and he wanted to know my name.
«Darius Just,» I said.
He looked uncertain and I knew what was going on behind his face. He was wondering what he could say that would be polite and would not give away the fact that he hadn’t the foggiest notion of who I was and what I wrote. I sighed inaudibly.
It was Martin Walters who rescued me and for that I forgave him, finally, for the day before.
He called, «Darius!» and motioned strenuously for me to join him.
I did so, and he said, «What are you doing standing there in the ranks with the privates? Come join us officers at the cocktail party.»
«What cocktail party?»
«This cocktail party.»
I had followed him to a small room just off the banquet hall and there it was—and Martin had a drink before I could draw two breaths.
About a hundred people were talking to each other in clumps, the biggest group maintaining itself at a respectful distance from Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., himself. I looked to see if Shirley were there, and when I saw she wasn’t, I knew she could be nowhere in the room. She’d probably arrive too late to do anything but get into the luncheon and I decided I had better not tell her that she missed a chance to touch her hero or she’d be too miserable later to touch me.
Anita Loos of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes and Cathleen Nesbit, who played dowager duchesses in at least fifty movies, were there, too; both small and aged and looking happy.
Asimov was there, being introduced. He held out his hand to Anita Loos with a fatuous smile and said, «I’ve always wanted to play cards with you and Howard Fast, Miss Loos, for then I’d be playing Fast and Loos.»
She looked at him in puzzlement and I stepped away quickly. I didn’t want to be introduced after that since I despaired of being able to top that remark for sheer imbecility.
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Darius insisted this passage be included, but what the devil is there about the remark that should be sneered at? It was spontaneous and clever.
Isaac Asimov