Kerrie moved through events with a vague smile, as if she were floating in a dream. At the party she insisted upon having, she walked among her friends like a shy and, happy child. Every one she knew in Hollywood was there, and they were all the poor, the strugglers, the fringe, the people of the frayed and starched clothes and the starved fixed smiles. But many of them wore new clothes that night, and looked well-fed, and their laughter was real.
“Isn’t she grand?” sighed Violet Day to Beau. “Just like Lady Bountiful. She told me today she thinks she ought to do something for Inez. Inez has the bugs, and Kerrie’s going to send her to Arizona. And Kerrie’s financing Lew Malone’s ulcer operation, and goodness knows what else!”
“She’s drunk,” smiled Beau.
“What? Say, Queen, I don’t think you like Kerrie very much!”
“Who, me?” said Beau.
Kerrie refused to move from Argyle Avenue. “I’m going to be in Hollywood just a little while longer,” she said firmly, “and I won’t have my friends think I’m putting on the dog. Nothing doing, Vi; we stay here.”
But they had to. take two rooms more to hold all the clothes and trunks she bought. The landlady actually beamed. She raised her rents from six to eight dollars a Week; but when Kerrie heard about it she threatened to move out, so back went the rents to six dollars.
It was like that for an incredible week — driving from shoppe to shoppe in the rented Isotta; exciting hours in the beauty emporia patronized by only the starriest of the stars; furs, evening gowns, sport clothes, wraps, jewels; the Brown Derby, the Clover Club, the Beverly-Wilshire; prevues and premières, until Kerrie’s conscience began to bother her.
“Aren’t we spending too much money?” she asked Beau.
“There’s more where that came from, kid.”
“It’s a wonderful dream! Like a fairy tale. Magic money. The more you spend, the more you have. Well, maybe not quite... Ellery, did I tell you I heard from Walter Ruell? He’s back home in Ohio and darned glad of it. Poor kid—”
“Kerrie, I’ve had three wires from Goossens.” Beau did not mention the four from Ellery. “He can’t understand what’s holding us up here. I tried to explain—”
“Oh, darling, so soon!”
“And don’t call me darling!”
“What?” Kerrie was surprised.
“It’s a bad habit,” muttered Beau. “For a gal who’s promised not to tangle with men.”
“Oh, but, Ellery, I don’t say ‘darling’ to any man but you! You wouldn’t sue me for breach of promise, would you?” Kerrie laughed.
“Why pick on me?” said Beau sullenly.
“Because you’re my own special darling, my—” And Kerrie stopped short. Very short. Then she said in a subdued voice, not looking at him: “All right, Ellery. We’ll go whenever you say.”
Kerrie was unusually quiet after that. The vagueness went out of her smile; everything sharpened in her face; most of the time she wore a serious expression. Beau was quiet, too. He bought the tickets and arranged for the luggage and took Kerrie’s proofs of identity out of the bank vault and saw the bank manager and wired Goossens.
Then there was nothing to do but wait for the next day, which was to be Kerrie’s farewell to Hollywood.
But while Beau was busy with the arrangements for their departure Kerrie shut herself up in one of the rooms and refused to come out, even for Vi.
Vi said worriedly to Beau that last night: “I can’t understand her. She says she’s all right, but...”
“Maybe it’s the hangover.”
“I guess it’s the idea of leaving. After all, her mother’s buried here, this is about the only home she’s ever had, and now she faces a whole new world... I guess that’s it.”
“I guess.”
“Why don’t you take her out for a walk, or something? She’s been cooped up here all day.”
“I don’t think—” began Beau, flushing.
But Vi went into Kerrie’s room and remained there for a long time, while Beau fidgeted outside. Finally Kerrie came out dressed in black slacks covered by a long coat, and no hat, Hollywood fashion, and said with a rather pale smile: “Want to take me for a walk, Mister?”
“Okay,” said Beau.
They strolled in silence to the corner and turned into Hollywood Boulevard. At the corner of Vine Street they stopped to watch the swirling traffic.
“Busy, all right,” said Kerrie. “It’s — hard to leave.”
“Yeah,” said Beau. “Must be.”
They walked ahead into the forest of neon signs.
A little while later Beau said: “Nice night.”
Kerrie said: “Yes, isn’t it.”
Then they were silent again. They passed Grauman’s Chinese and soon were strolling through the darkness of the residential district beyond.
Kerrie paused finally and said: “My feet ache. Wouldn’t you think shoes costing twenty-two fifty would fit?”
“The curse of gold,” said Beau. “It has its advantages, too, though.”
“Let’s sit down for a while.”
“On the curb?”
“Why not?”
They sat down side by side. Occasionally a car flashed by; once a ribald voice shouted at them.
“I really haven’t thanked you,” said Kerrie in a muffled voice, “for having been so grand this week. You’ve been like a — like a brother.”
“Brother Rat,” said Beau. “That’s what they call me.”
“Please, Ellery. I—”
“I’m getting paid for it,” said Beau gruffly. “Fact, it’s your dough that’s paying. So don’t thank me.”
“Oh, money!” said Kerrie. “It isn’t everything—” She stopped, appalled by what she was saying.
“No?” jeered Beau. “There are a million fluffs who’d give their right arms to be in your shoes — ache and all — this minute.”
“I know, but... Oh, it’s nice being able to do things for people, and to buy and buy without thinking of the price when you’ve had to watch all your life for basement sales and to make over old dresses, but...”
“No buts. It is wonderful, and you’re a lucky squirt. Don’t spoil it by being — restless.”
“I’m not!” said Kerrie quickly. “It’s just that I’ve been thinking about...” She stopped.
Beau laughed. “Don’t tell me you’ve been regretting that anti-marriage condition already!”
“Well... it might be awfully hard on a girl — under the circumstances — if she... fell in love.”
She screamed, grabbing him. Something wet and cold had touched the back of her neck. But it was only a friendly, night-prowling Schnauzer investigating her scent.
Beau’s arms tightened about her. She clung to him, her head falling back. Her lips were parted.
“Kerrie.” Beau failed to recognize his own voice. “Don’t leave Hollywood. Stay here. Give up the money.”
Their lips almost touched as they stared into each other’s eyes. He was going to propose. He was! He didn’t want her to go East! That could only be because the money stood between him and her. Oh, she didn’t care about it! She didn’t. She just wanted him. Never to let go. If that was love, she was in love. He was going to propose... Oh, ask me, ask me!
He let go of her and got up so suddenly that she cried out again and the Schnauzer whined in alarm and ran away.
“You’d” throw away twenty-five hundred bucks a week?”
“Maybe,” whispered Kerrie, “I would.”
“Then you’re an idiot!”
She closed her eyes, all jumpy and sick inside.
“If it happened to me,” he shouted, “do you think I’d give it up? Like hell I would! You ought to be examined by Freud!”