She was wearing dark green slacks and a white silk blouse. A string of green beads circled her throat. Her long hair was piled carelessly on top of her head, held there haphazardly with a green ribbon, bright russet strands falling onto her cheek and forehead, trailing down the back of her neck.
"Come in," she said, "come in," and walked barefooted toward the plush-covered chair near the window, where her cat lap supine on the arm, his tail switching nervously. She passed her extended forefinger along the length of the cat's back, and then lowered the shade against the gathering dusk. The cat's name was Shah, and Sidney despised him.
Chickie turned from the window with a pleased smile on her face, as though she had been contemplating his arrival all day, and was now enormously satisfied by his presence. She touched the cat again in passing. He lifted his head to accept her hand, and then the tail switched again, and he turned to look at Sidney with a malevolent jungle stare.
One day, you little son of a bitch, Sidney thought, I will be in this apartment alone with you, and I will drown you in the tub.
"What kind of a cat is he?" he asked Chickie.
"A nice cat," she answered.
"I meant the breed."
"Persian."
"Is that why you call him Shah?"
"No."
"Then why?"
"Because he's a nice cat. Aren't you a nice cat, Shah sweetie?" she asked, and she dropped to her knees before the chair and put her face close to the animal's. "Aren't you a lovey-cat, Shah honey?"
"Please, you'll make me vomit," Sidney said.
"I think Sidney has had a hard day in the mines," she said to the cat, and then rose and grinned and said, "Would you like a drink, Sidney? Would that help?"
"I had a very easy day," Sidney said, glaring at the cat. "I just don't happen to like your cat."
"Sidney!" she said. "I thought you loved Shah."
"No, I don't love Shah."
"I thought you did."
"No, I do not. Point of fact, I do not love any cat in the world, least of all Shah. Don't ever leave me alone in the apartment with him, or I'll drown him in the tub."
"Do you hear that, Shah?" she said playfully. "Watch out for Sidney because he'll drown you in the tub."
The cat made an ominous sound from somewhere back in his throat. "That's right, you heard her," Sidney said, and Shah made the same ominous sound again.
"He understands you," Chickie said.
"I hope he does. Why do you keep him around?"
"He was a gift."
"From whom?"
"A man."
"Who?"
"Before I knew you."
"I didn't ask you when, I asked you who."
"An Indian."
"From India?"
"Yes, of course. Did you think I meant a Mohican or something?"
"I never know what you mean, exactly," he said, and sighed.
"Don't you want to know why he gave me the cat?"
"No."
"All right, then I won't tell you."
"Why did he give you the cat?" Sidney asked.
"Why do you think he gave me the cat?"
"Because he knew you loved cats."
"No. That is, he knew I loved cats, yes, but that's not why he gave me a present. The cat was a present, Sidney."
"Why did he give you a present?" Sidney asked, and sighed again.
"You think it's because I went to bed with him, don't you?" Chickie said.
"Did you go to bed with him?" he asked wearily.
"Sidney, what a question to ask!"
"Well, then why did he give you the filthy little animal?"
"You're angry now."
"No, I'm not angry now. But sometimes I get awfully goddamn tired of these Burns and Allen routines."
"I didn't mean to make you angry," she said. "I'm sorry." She rose quickly, lowered her eyes, and padded to the bar. "I'll make you that drink," she said.
"Thank you."
The room was silent. It could have been a shuttered room in Panama, there was that kind of afternoon hush to it, the waning light against a drawn shade, the silk-tasseled lower edge, a contained lushness, the green plush chair with the gray cat purring on its arm, the moss green of the velvet curtains and the burnt sienna walls, the scent of snuffed-out candles and perfume.
He had felt in Panama, a centuries-old decadence that clung to every archway and twisted street, a miasma of evil, a certain knowledge that anything ever devised by humans had been done in this city, and he had been excited by it. Now, watching Chickie as she moved barefooted over the rug, the drink in one hand, he felt the beginning of that same kind of excitement, a welcome loss of control that he experienced whenever he was near her, a heady confusion that threatened to submerge him.
She handed him the drink. "What is it?" she asked.
"I had to ring four times," he said.
"What?"
"Downstairs."
"Is that what's bothering you?"
"Yes," he said, and accepted the drink.
"I'm sorry, Sidney, but you'll remember—"
"It's all right."
"You'll remember that I advised you not to come in the first place. I have to leave in a very few minutes…"
"Where are you going?"
"To the agency. I told you that on the phone, Sidney, and I told you I'd be very rushed."
"Why are you going to the agency?"
"I have work to do."
"I thought…"
"I have work to do, Sidney."
"All right, I'll pick you up later for dinner," he said.
"No, I can't have dinner with you tonight."
"Why not?"
"I'm having dinner with Ruth. We have a trip to work out. I told you all about it."
"No, you didn't."
"A very important trip that may materialize," she said, nodding.
"That may materialize?" he said. "I don't understand."
"Ruth and I have to work out this trip together," she explained very slowly, "that may be materializing."
"A trip to where?"
"Europe."
"For whom?"
"For a client, of course."
"But what do you mean it may be materializing?"
"Well, it isn't certain yet."
"When will it be certain?"
"Very soon, I would imagine. Your hair sticks up in the back, did you know that?"
"Yes. Can't Ruth handle it alone? There's something I wanted to—"
"No, she can't. Do you want a refill, Sidney?"
"No. Why can't she?"
"Because it would be a very long trip, Sidney. If it materializes. It would be for the entire winter, you see."
"I see."
"Until the fifteenth of June."
"I see."
"Which is why it's so terribly complicated. Are you sure you don't want a refill?"
"No, thanks. Maybe I can see you later then. There's something—"
"I'll be busy all night."
He stared at her for a moment, and then said, "Chickie, are you lying to me?"
"What?"
"Are you lying?"
"About what, for God's sake?"
"About this trip, about tonight, about…"
"Sidney, I'm a very bad liar. I wouldn't even attempt lying to you."
"I think you're lying to me right this minute," he said.
"Now stop it, Sidney," she warned. "You may have had a difficult day, but let's not start hurling silly accusations around, shall we not?"
"I'm sorry," he said. "I h-h-have had a d-d-difficult day, I'm sorry."
"That's all right, Sidney, and don't start stammering."
"I'm sorry."
"What you need is another drink," she said, and took his glass. "And then I've got to get dressed." She put two ice cubes into his glass and poured more bourbon over them. She handed the glass to Sidney and then said, "Shall I take Shah out of the room? Would you like me to do that?"