“I'm sorry, Mr. Henderson, but I'm in a jam and I thought you had all kinds of coin. Not that that's any excuse for the way I acted,” I said weakly.
He stared at me for a moment and his face seemed to relax.
He shook his head. “I'm sorry for you, George, and I can't understand you. Why you and I are—were—alike. I thought we knew how to live, to look at the world, we're sophisticated in the true sense of the word. But stooping to this, my God! You'd better leave. I'm pretty worked up about this, please leave before I say things that will hurt both of us, place me on your level.”
I took my coat, opened the door, said, “Francis, forgive me. I don't know what came over me.”
He said, “There's no point in anger. Perhaps in a few months we can even be friends again. But until I ask you, I'd rather you don't come up here again. I'll send my rent directly to Flo.”
There wasn't anything I could say, so I went out. It was a cold raw night, looked like snow and I didn't have enough money to get a decent drunk on at any bar. I bought a quart of wine and went to my room.
I was in rough shape the next morning, and by borrowing a couple of bucks from Harvey, Joe, and Jake Webster, I managed to stay drunk till Christmas. The Christmas party at the office made me quite a character—I got stupid drunk and passed out on the first bottle. Joe put me to sleep in the men's lounge and when I awoke, feeling like my head had been pulled inside out, via my stomach, the party was going full force. I ate a few sandwiches and ate too fast or something, for I got sick—all over myself.
As I stumbled out to get some snow and air, I vaguely remembered Harvey telling me Flo was on the phone, asking me to come to a party, but much as I wanted to see her, I was in no shape to do anything but go to my room and sleep it off. Of course the reason I passed out was I hadn't had anything to eat for three days, unless you're the scientific type that considers alcohol as food.
I awoke to find somebody banging on my head. My brain seemed to be a jumble of small pieces, and as I gathered them together, tried to think, I knew I was in my room, but it was dark, and I was across my bed, fully dressed—even to my shoes.
The banging was somebody knocking on my door and it sounded so loud... as if I was in the middle of an echo chamber.
The banging grew louder and I called out, “Flo? Flo? Who is it?” But my mouth was two layers of horrible smelling cotton and no words came out. I stood up stiffly, waited for the room to settle down, and started for the door. It was fortunate the room was tiny, I couldn't take more than a few steps and even that little effort made me faint. I managed to open the door.
Joe was standing there. A Joe looking cheerful, drunk, and sleepy. He's been up all night, or all week, judging by his eyes. He stepped in and I shut the door, the sound of it nearly slicing my head in half. Joe opened his coat, pushed his hat back, and looked at me as I sat on the bed. He made a face, opened the window and the cold air was a life-saver. For a while he stood there, without speaking, then he sat on the one chair, pulled out a pack of butts, lit one for me. The smoke was smooth as velvet and felt wonderful in my throat and nose.
Finally I asked, “What's the visit for?”
Joe blew out a cloud of smoke, glanced around the room, said, “What a trap.”
“How did you find me?” I asked, the question sounding absolutely stupid.
“Looked in the office files. You been worrying me, boy.”
“So I been worrying you. Glad you didn't go up to the house.”
“I was up there a few days ago. She said you didn't live there no more. A foreign doll, and what a sex-boat. Came to the door with just a slip on and is she....”
“Stay away from there, Joe, stay away from her!”
“What's the matter, she turn out to be too powerful for you? Georgie boy, what's wrong? Haven't been yourself for weeks.”
“And when I was myself, what was I? Joe, I was the guy wanted to go through life playing it safe, I wouldn't play unless I had a pair, backed up. Only you can't live like that, you got to go for the inside straights sometime, it seems.”
“Buck up. What's the matter?”
“Matter? Nothing! I'm just dandy, simply ginger-dandy!”
Joe shook his head. “Boy you look like hell. And something is sure wrong. George, you're a guy with class, a fashion-plate, and look at you now... living in this flea-bag, clothes wrinkled to hell and dirty. And you smell like a sewer—an old one. And there's something awful wrong when a guy making over a hundred a week starts borrowing a buck here and there. Not that I mind, you understand, but it's a sign something is screwy. Then you had some kind of a fuss with old man Henderson, Jake says you been asking some odd questions, and finally, a couple of weeks ago when you were up to my place, you were packing a gun.”
“I was not.”
“Stop it, I felt it when we horsed around at the door.”
“It was a toy gun, a gag.”
Joe moved his chair closer. “Georgie, we been pals for a long time. Christ, you're the best friend I have in the world. I want to help you. If it's dough, I ain't no mint, but Walt and me been making a bit of folding dough. If a couple of hundred, maybe a grand....”
“Thanks, Joe, but it wouldn't solve anything. I'm in a first class mess. I'm the fox who was outfoxed... hopelessly.”
“Don't be a blip,” Joe said loudly. “Hell, as an executive you know there's, no such thing as a problem that can't be licked—everything's in transit, what you can't lick today, you will tomorrow. Now, what's with you and this doll?”
I started telling him about Lee, and as I talked I sobered up, began to think straight—very straight. I told him everything, except about the note and the seven grand. My story was I felt sorry for Lee, wanted to help her, couldn't resist keeping her, so I started giving her a hundred a week and now was afraid to stop. I talked through four cigarettes, and when I finished, Joe said, “What's the great problem? I'll go talk to her, knock some sense in her head.”
“Joe stay away from her... stay away. You cant talk to her she's like a... a moron. All she's good for is a tumble in the hay.”
Joe looked wide awake as he said, “Think of having a babe like that, a doll that's strictly a sex machine. And is she built for it! Georgie, was she really something?”
“She's evil. May not be her fault, but she's evil. Forget her, somehow I'll solve things. She's too much for any man. In bed she's very very good, terrific, but she's also expensive and...”
Joe stood up, took out his wallet. “I knew she was all sex the first time I saw her. Georgie, you're in rough shape. Here's fifty bucks, go to the baths, steam out the booze, eat a couple good meals. And don't worry, let me handle this doll. Never saw a babe with big shakers I couldn't talk into anything I wanted.”
I jumped to my feet, said as fiercely as I could, “Joe, as your friend, I'm asking you, warning you, to stay away from her. Don't even look at her. Shell only mess you up with that lush wonderful body of hers and...”