“Miss Fair and Mr. Seebright! Why don’t you join us?”
Susan didn’t seem to like the idea, but Seebright was all for it. Ensued a bit of business with the head waiter and the other table was pushed against Johnny’s.
The quartet seated themselves.
“You got my phone call?” Seebright asked.
“Four of them, but I had a little trouble at the gym.” He indicated his battered face. “Picked a rough sparring partner and had to teach him a lesson.”
“Or he you,” remarked Susan.
Johnny smiled. “You ought to see the other guy.”
The waiter came back with the ham sandwiches. Johnny said, “Just a moment,” and picked up the top layer of bread. He examined the ham critically. “Just as I thought — he brushed the mayonnaise off the ham and put new bread on it. Take it back again and tell him I want new bread and new ham — untainted by mayonnaise.”
The waiter gave Johnny a dirty look, but said, “Yes, sir,” and took the sandwiches away again. “I’m going to get me some cards printed,” Johnny went on. “They’re going to read: ‘People DONT like mayonnaise,’ and everywhere I go I’m going to pass them out.” He shook his head. “When you were in the record business, Mr. Seebright, you should have hired only former mayonnaise salesmen. They’re the best salesmen in the world, the way they’ve pushed that goo all around the country.”
Seebright smiled. “You said when I was in the record business. What makes you think I’m not still in the record business?”
“Why, I read something in the papers today...”
“True, true. But what does the receiver know about the record business? They’ve got to keep someone in the place who knows things. Besides — the firm will be in receivership only a day or two.”
“You raised the dough?” Johnny looked pointedly at Susan Fair.
“I expect to,” Seebright said calmly. “I’ve been talking to a bank that’s practically agreed to refinance the company.” He cleared his throat. “As soon as I show them the Con Carson master.”
“Oh, you’ve found it?”
“Why, no — not yet. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Mmm,” said Johnny.
“I wanted to continue our little talk of last night.”
“Is that so?”
“I thought I might sweeten that offer I made you. Say twice the amount?” He looked inquiringly at Johnny and as the latter shook his head, added: “And I’ll personally add, out of my own pocket, another five thousand.”
“Fifteen thousand altogether? That’s a lot of money. Mr. Seebright.”
“I think so.”
“It’s enough to make a man want to go out and find the record for you.”
“I had that in mind.”
“Only I don’t know where to start looking.”
Seebright regarded Johnny steadily. “Think it over.”
“I have, Mr. Seebright, I have. As a matter of fact, I’m going to let you in on a secret. I didn’t get this face massage in a gymnasium today. I got it because of the Con Carson record; somebody thought I had it. Somebody paid a couple of fellows a thousand dollars to persuade me to give it to them.”
Seebright exhaled heavily. “I never know when you’re telling the truth or talking nonsense, Fletcher.”
“This time I’m not talking nonsense. I might add that I’ve got some assorted bruises where they don’t show; such as a couple of awfully sore ribs. In fact, I’m sore all over.”
“Me, too,” chimed in Sam.
“I’m no hero, Mr. Seebright. I would have given them the record when they were asking for it, but I couldn’t because I didn’t have it at the time.”
“At the time?”
“An idiom of speech.”
“It seems to me,” Susan Fair said, “one or the other of you two is always going around looking for trouble.”
“You’re referring to Sam’s little fracas with Mr. Armstrong? He told me about it.”
“Armstrong?” Seebright asked, looking at Susan. “Charles Armstrong?”
“He called this afternoon to offer condolences,” Susan said quietly.
“Armstrong was interested in Marjorie,” Johnny amplified.
Seebright showed interest. “I didn’t know that. In fact, I find it a little hard to believe. I seem to recall that it was he who voted against giving your sister a contract. I liked the recording myself but in the interests of unity in the company...” He shrugged.
“Armstrong makes the decisions at Mariota?” Johnny asked. “Dorcas was all for Marjorie, you were for her, the sales manager liked her voice, but Charles Armstrong decided against her, so you turned her down.”
“Unity, Fletcher, unity. Miss Fair” — to Susan — “forgive me, Miss Fair, your sister made a fine recording, but her name was, after all, unknown. It’s more difficult to sell an unknown and since a vice-president of the company seemed to feel so strongly, well...”
“I understand, Mr. Seebright,” said Susan in a low tone.
Seebright-suddenly pushed back his chair. “I declare, there’s Doniger over there now. And Ed Farnham. Will you excuse me, Miss Fair? There’s something I’d like to ask Doniger.”
He got up and went over to the Doniger table. Johnny winked at Sam and hitched his chair around so that he was virtually on Susan Fair’s side of the table.
“When are you going back to Iowa, Susan?”
“In a few days — why?”
“Why, I was thinking, what can you do in Iowa that you can’t do in New York? I know some people here in the show business...”
“And you’ll get me a job in the Follies?”
“They don’t put on the Follies any more, not THE Follies. Ziegfeld’s dead. But they still have plenty of other shows and with your looks...”
“Sorry, not interested.”
“Modeling, maybe?”
“No modeling.”
“I was thinking of magazine covers.”
“I was thinking of your line,” Susan said. “I’ve heard better routines back in Des Moines.”
Johnny grinned. “Well, suppose you consider that I’ve broken the ice, then. What do you say we ditch old Seebright and go some place where there’s a little more life?”
“Why, Mr. Fletcher!” Susan mocked. “I came here with Mr. Seebright. It wouldn’t be right for me to walk out on him, would it?”
“It’s been done.”
“What sort of a place did you have in mind? I mean, the place you’d like to take me — a nice, cozy little Hungarian restaurant, where the lights are kind of dim and the man in the gypsy uniform plays When A Gypsy Makes His Violin Cry on the violin? Is that the kind of place you had in mind?”
“All right,” said Johnny. “Man to girl, then, let’s get away from all these people, where I can tell you all about myself and you can tell me what you’ve been doing all your life.”
“Object — what?”
“Object, how do we know, unless we get better acquainted?”
Susan pursed her lips and studied Johnny’s face. “Well, your looks haven’t been improved any by the plastic surgery. I’ll admit your personality is a bit on the picaresque side and I like the picaresque, but girl to man, Johnny Fletcher, do you really think you’re the sort a girl can take by the hand and lead into her home and say, ‘Ma, this is the man?’ ”
“I haven’t got hydrophobia.”
Susan smiled. “I was talking to one of the bellboys at the hotel this afternoon, the little chap who seems to be the head of the bellboys...”
“Eddie Miller.”
“Yes, Eddie. He’s an admirer of yours. He was telling me of some of the outrages you’ve perpetrated upon the hotel management at one time or another. Oh — all in a spirit of tremendous admiration, for Eddie thinks you’re wonderful—”