“She’s sitting in the lobby.”
I went into the bathroom and washed my mouth out with Listerine, to kill any smell of lipstick that might be lingering.
I sat down again, trembling. At three o’clock I picked up the suitcases and went down in the freight elevator to the parking lot entrance and carried them out to the car. After I had put them in the back, I went around to the front of the building into the lobby. There I found Teddy reading a magazine. She seemed upset that I had done my own toting.
“I wanted to do it for you,” she said. “It’s not the money. It’s you.”
“You said that already.”
I put her in the car and for the first time noticed the patches on the seat of her pants. They looked as though some sailor had sewed them on.
“Who did your patches?”
“I did,” she said. “Why?”
“Just wondering, that’s all. They’re nice, pattable patches.”
“You ought to know. You patted them.”
“So I did, so I did. Touchée.”
“What do you mean, touchée? No one got touched, I know of. Brother, what a washout. Patty cake, patty cake, pat me some more.”
“What has to be, has to be.”
When we reached the hotel parking lot I took the suitcases out for Teddy but let her carry them to the marquee where I told the doorman to take them and call a bellhop.
Conference Room A was just off the lobby. It was all set up, with the bar, buffet, and counter at one end, my service table at one side, three armchairs with their backs to the bar, mikes in front of them, and folding chairs facing them. We were the first to arrive except for a bartender polishing glasses and two girls in red trunks, boleros, and shoes, with some of the barest legs you ever saw. They were lining up bowls with dip, salad, and relish on the buffet, as well as placing platters of canapes around. They came running over to help. I introduced Teddy as “a working girl’s working girl; so if you need any help, just holler.” We all got along well. When the bellhop had taken the brochures and pamphlets out of the suitcases and left after getting his tip, Teddy and I arranged the material on the table. She had some suggestions about how to display it, all of them good.
14
Then the Garretts arrived. Hortense, wearing a green cocktail dress with a gold band around her head, looked simply beautiful. I presented Teddy as “my girl Friday who carried the press stuff for me so I could arrive like a gran signor — kind of like cruelty to children, except that she’s as strong as a bull.”
“How fortunate,” Hortense said icily.
“But prettier’n a bull,” Mr. Garrett said.
“Mrs. Garrett,” Teddy cooed, “I’ve seen your picture often. I’ve always admired your hair. I just love dark blonde.”
“You have quite beautiful hair yourself.”
“Not really. Right now it’s dyed with henna rinse. I wish it were blonde, like yours.”
“I’ll send you a wig. How’s that?”
“Oh, Mrs. Garrett, would you?”
There was more to this exchange than met the naked ear. I was somewhat uneasy at the way Teddy was tipping me off that she knew what my reason was.
Hortense tried her chair and reached for the mike, to adjust it. But it was stiff and wouldn’t budge. Teddy skipped over to it, and gave a yank that really did the trick. She pushed it a little bit at a time until Hortense nodded that it was the way she wanted it.
Hortense got up and came over to me. I was at the table I had had put in, looking at the various handouts. She nodded a couple of times. Then, after getting closer to me, she stiffened. “Get that girl out of here!” she snapped. “What do you mean, bringing such a creature?”
“What girl?”
“That girl!”
Her voice was pure venom, and she had the bad manners to point without looking where she was pointing, to the mikes where Teddy was standing. When she raised her voice, Teddy came over and took her wrist and began putting pressure on it. Hortense walked backward under the pressure of Teddy’s grip until she reached her armchair and plopped down on it. When Teddy spoke, the mike, which was turned on, picked up her voice and boomed it out over the entire room.
“I saw what you did, Mrs. Garrett, leaning close in to Dr. Palmer, so you could sniff his shirt to see if it smelled like me. I’m sure it did. It should have, the way I climbed on him and twisted around in his lap and slobbered on him. But he said no. Did you hear what I said, Mrs. Garrett? He made me wait downstairs because he had a reason — kind of a blonde reason. All I can say is, if you’re that reason, he might do better with me!”
She wheeled around and faced me, her eyes glittering with tears, and sobbed: “Dr. Palmer, I’ll thank you to pay me, so I can go. I want my wages, whatever they are. Also taxi fare to the bus and bus fare to College Park.”
But before I could get out my wallet, Mr. Garrett came over. He wrapped Teddy in his arms and said very loudly: “Take it easy, Teddy. Calm down, relax. College Park is right on my way. As soon as we’re through here, I’ll run you home.” He led her to one of the folding chairs, sat her down, and then went over to Hortense whose hand he picked up and patted, but she slapped him away. Then she jumped up and went out with that quick, boiling-hot walk a woman breaks into when she’s really mad. She went through the lobby and out the front door.
I wasn’t the first guy to get caught in the middle of by two women blowing their tops, but I felt like holy hell anyway. Mr. Garrett played it cool — adjusting the mikes, inspecting the food, conferring with the bartender, and joking with the girls. I sat on the table, watching him, trying to figure out where I stood, if anywhere. It was frightening, but I made myself own up to it, that here in just a few seconds, the whole ship had been blown out of the water. Mr. Garrett must know the truth now, whereas before he could only guess. How was he going to play it? And was he going to play it? But when he called me over, all he said was: “Lloyd, we’d better be getting ready.” Which meant that he wasn’t going to play it; he was just going to ignore it. I suppose for the moment it eased my mind, yet deep down inside, it left me more nervous than ever, because I didn’t know where I stood. How can you ignore something like that? But if he could, I had to.
As I passed Teddy, I asked her: “Would you take charge of the press stuff? See that each reporter gets a release from every pile?”
“Okay, Dr. Palmer. I’m sorry.”
“Why didn’t you bring a stink bomb?”
“I said I was sorry.”
“Don’t bang at Teddy.”
It was Mr. Garrett, who had come over to give her a pat. “We all make mistakes,” he said, “especially when provoked.”
That seemed to end the subject.
It didn’t end Hortense, though. Pretty soon the reporters came, fifteen or twenty of them. Some I knew, at least by sight, and some I didn’t, though on about half of them, I had done some background study. The two Washington papers sent men, and so did the New York Times, the Los Angeles Times, St. Louis Post-Dispatch, Women’s Wear, and the Associated Press.’ But the Wall Street Journal, Baltimore Sun, and Philadelphia Evening Bulletin sent women, and for some reason, they took us over the jumps. The show got off to a lefthanded start when one of them pressed Mr. Garrett as to where Hortense was and why she wasn’t there. “If the Institute is named for her, this show must be in her honor. What’s become of her?”