The wind swirled snow up and Nick stomped up and down to keep warm. He felt somehow emaciated after the hours in bed with Holly, and being outside seemed strange after the three days in the apartment.
But he knew he had to do something, break from his lethargic, sex-ridden existence, or he would ruin everything. He glanced down the street and felt the wind and cursed. It had been difficult making the sudden decision to go to Julie. If a cab didn't come soon, he might lose his nerve. And he knew this was absolutely the last chance to salvage everything he thought was important.
He looked up and saw a taxi and waved his hands frantically. The cab pulled over in a wide are that sprayed snow and wet his pants from the knees down.
"Sorry about that snow," the driver said as Nick climbed in and slammed the door.
"That's okay," Nick said and gave the driver Julie's address and brushed the wet snow from his pants.
The cab hummed through the snow, the chains on the tires clunking, and Nick settled back and realized that he was in such bad shape that just being able to leave the apartment seemed a victory. And he hoped desperately that Julie was home. And somehow, home alone.
Nick braced himself as the cab turned a corner. Then he lit a cigarette and took a puff and another, and ground the cigarette out in the ashtray. He was weak and tense with anxiety when they reached Julie's building, an urgent anxiety that left Nick uncertain and confused.
He paid the driver and trudged through the snow and entered the building, not knowing what he would say or what reason he would offer for his refusal to answer the phone.
All the way up in the elevator, he tried to think of something. Something to soothe Julie, and Connors if he were there, and something to salvage his future. But as he rang the bell he was thinking of Holly again, and of what she would think when she got back to the apartment with her new clothes and he was gone.
There was no answer and he rang the bell again and told himself that perhaps this meant that the servants were gone. Then the door opened and he stared at Hanson.
"Why Mister Nick, Miss Julie will be pleased to see you," Hanson said. "I don't want to talk out of turn but I can tell you she and her father have been anxious about you. How are you feeling? Have you recovered from your recent illness?"
"I'm fine now, Hanson," Nick said. "And thank you for your concern."
Nick followed the butler down the hall and into the living room…
Julie was curled in a chair before a roaring fire, reading and sipping a martini. She looked up and broke into a smile and leaped up from the chair.
"Nick what in the world has happened to you?" she asked.
"I'm sorry Julie," he said scanning her short lush body which was accentuated by red slacks and a tight red blouse. The red highlighted her pale skin and black hair and eyes. "I've been holed up on that damn beer account. I felt I had to isolate myself or I wouldn't get anything done."
"I've been worried silly, darling," she said. "I've tried to call you time after time and even thought about going over, but I couldn't quite bring myself to do that. I think I was afraid of what I might find."
"What do you mean?" he asked quickly.
"I don't know, Nickie," she said, and cocked her head and stared at him in a way that made him uneasy. "Your entire attitude toward me seems to have changed lately. And naturally the first thing that I thought was that you had some woman in your apartment, like that secretary of yours."
"Miss Lewis?" Nick asked. "I haven't seen her since the last time I was in the office Julie."
Julie pouted and made a small circle with her toe and Nick realized she was barefoot. "Well darling, when you abandon me like that you must understand that I have to protect myself and all," she said. "So I asked Daddy to get you another secretary. And by the way, Nickie, Daddy is pretty upset that you haven't kept in touch with him. That crazy old lady that owns the beer company has been calling him night and day."
Nick took a step toward Julie and felt the warmth of the huge fire and realized how weak and warm and terrible he felt. "My God, Julie," he said. "That's a terrible thing to do. To cost that kid her job. She's a good secretary and I feel a certain loyalty toward her."
"But a great deal more toward me, I hope," Julie said. "Now let's not have a big scene about some little typist. She will get another job in the company. And Daddy will find you another one just as good and not so attractive."
"Dammit Julie, I don't like the idea of having you and your father do things like that," he said. He felt dangerously angry and told himself to calm down because he was in a bad situation, and hiding a disastrous secret that could ruin him in an instant.
"Then don't hide from us," Julie said, and her voice was soft and husky. "After all, we both have quite an investment in you. And we both feel a bit possessive. Now, excuse me for a moment. Get yourself a drink and relax and in a moment I'll have a surprise for you."
Julie left before Nick could say anything, and he watched the roll of her small rounded buttocks beneath the tight red slacks and was amazed that the sight did not in the least excite him.
He stumbled over and mixed himself a double scotch and water and then sat down in the chair by the fireplace and stared into the dancing flames. He could gladly choke Julie on the spot, costing Sally Lewis her job. Yet he felt so guilt-ridden about Holly and about the Dennison account, he was stripped of any courage or self-confidence.
He poured the scotch down and felt rivulets of sweat on his face and down his back and told himself he could expect a great deal of his life to be managed behind his back once he was married to Julie.
If he married her, he said and stared at the flames. Because he had so little time left on the Dennison account and he had no confidence, he knew he would have nothing but blank pages to show Connors and Frances Dennison. And the Holly situation was impossible and he knew it was only a matter of time before Julie or Connors or someone similar found out he was keeping a seventeen-year-old girl in his apartment.
Nick finished the drink and wondered where Julie was. He went over and mixed a drink and sipped it and glanced around the enormous, paneled room, and at the furniture and the paintings in gilded frames and the impressive leather bound books.
This had been his dream, for years, from the days when he had been a desperate, lonely, poor teenager like Holly. And now it was his, was at his fingertips. Except for Holly. He cursed her aloud and drained the scotch, and then had the strangest feeling of guilt thinking about the girl in that way. To hell with it he muttered and got another drink and sat down in front of the fire.
He thought he heard someone at the door and he stiffened and realized he might have to face Connors. He laughed and settled back and told himself he could not even think of a decent lie to tell. And he realized the beginning of the end might be tonight, with both Connors and Julie.
Then there was a noise and he turned and gasped. Julie was crossing the room, very slowly, and wore nothing but a black, lacy bra which barely contained her straining breasts, and a pair of brief black panties which hardly covered anything essential.
Nick stood up and stared at her and past her to the door, and asked himself if she had lost her sanity. She obviously saw his concern and smiled and shook her head as she stopped in front of him.
"I gave Hanson the night off," she said. "And Daddy won't be home for hours, and as a precaution, I put the chain lock on. Though it would really be more fun to leave the door unlocked and be really daring."
"Christ Julie," Nick mumbled and looked up and down her ripe, pale body, and the peaks and crevices were accentuated by the tiny bra and panties.