Everybody spoke at once.
(3)
Couples
“This is fun!” Jigger shouted. Ocean sprayed by on both sides of Nothing Ventured IV as, with Kelly at the wheel and Jigger the only passenger, it roared out of the cove and into the open sea.
Jigger had started her campaign with Kelly at lunchtime, by offering to make his sandwich. He’d accepted, with some apparent surprise, and she’d said, “I was kind of mean to you yesterday, that’s why. I want to make up for it.”
He had believed her, of course. Jigger considered her lifework to be getting men to believe she was interested in them, and she’d spent most of her waking hours since the onset of puberty in improving her abilities in that direction. Dealing with a recluse like Kelly was duck soup, and it was simplicity itself, after lunch, to get him to take her for a spin in his boat, which was obviously his pride and joy. If she couldn’t come back from this joyride with the boat key in her possession, she might as well turn in her false eyelashes.
It had been both surprising and disheartening when Sassi had refused to join her in planning an escape from these clowns — visions of the eternal friendship that would follow their successful escape together had kept Jigger awake most of the night — but Miss Rushby’s approach this morning had been second best and she was willing to settle for it. And the plan was a good one. Jigger was to get her hands on the key to Nothing Ventured IV, and tonight, after the kidnappers had gone to sleep, they would escape in the boat, the three women. (Actually, Jigger was still slightly confused about Miss Rushby’s status here, since at times she seemed kidnapper and at times victim, but with collaborators in such short supply, she couldn’t be choosy. All she could do was use whoever was willing to work with her, and keep her eyes open.)
Now, out of the cove, Jigger watched Kelly throttle the boat back and set the wheel so they’d continue untended in a slow straight line. When he was done, she took his hand and said, “Come on, I’ll make us drinks.”
“All right,” he said.
In a way, it was like taking candy from a baby. Kelly so wanted to trust somebody. Jigger felt a little bad about what she was doing, and had to keep reminding herself she was dealing here not with a poor sad shnook but with a vicious kidnapper who had to be outwitted.
Still, he looked a lot like a poor sad shnook.
She made drinks — hers weak, his strong — and they sat side by side on the sofa.
“If you don’t mind my saying so, Kelly,” Jigger said, “you just don’t look like a kidnapper.”
“I’m not a kidnapper,” Kelly said, with a touch of that bad temper that always lurked near his surface. “You think I do this kind of thing all the time?”
“Why do it at all?” she asked him.
“Why? I’ve been forced to, that’s why!”
How fiery he looked. “Who forced you?” she asked him. She’d started this conversation simply to have something to talk about, but now she was really interested, because she suddenly had the feeling that no one would ever force this guy Kelly into anything.
“Society!” he cried, and angrily flung up the hand that didn’t hold the drink.
“Society? What do you mean, society?”
He glared at her with brooding eyes. “I mean that society has made no place for me,” he said through clenched teeth. “So I have to carve my own place in this world, no matter who gets in my way.”
She blinked. She hadn’t expected anything like this from Kelly. All she’d ever seen from him so far was petulant shnookdom. This was the other side of the coin and she was finding it a contradictory but compelling combination: a shnook with fire.
And then what he was saying finally connected with her, and she realized that her own attitude was exactly the same as his. No place had been made for her in the world either, and she was determined to carve her own, and it didn’t matter who got in her way.
“I understand, Kelly,” she said. “I know just what you mean.”
He looked surprised. “You do?”
“Yes, I do,” she said fiercely. “You have to fight for what you want in this life.”
“That’s right! You do know, don’t you?” He swigged from his drink, thumped the glass down on a table.
“Of course I know!” she told him. “You don’t get anything in this life that you don’t fight for.”
“That’s for sure.” He grinned at her in savage companionship. “And you know what the only weapon is?”
She did. “Money!” she cried.
“That’s right!” His fists were clenched, his face was flushed. “Money is power!”
“That’s right, Kelly, you’re right!” She was caught up in it completely now, she was clutching at his arm, she’d never felt so totally understood by another human being in her entire life. She’d forgotten all about her belief that Kelly was a shnook, she’d forgotten all about Miss Rushby and the key, she’d forgotten all about Sassi Manoon and the perfect entree into the movies. There was nothing but Kelly, who understood! He understood! “We’ve got to get it any way we can!” she yelled, exultant.
“And then they’ll leave us alone!” Kelly roared. He was gripping her arms, his hands like steel.
“To live our own lives!” she yelled in his face, laughing at the wonder of it, the beauty of it, this meeting of star-crossed atoms.
“Yes!”
“Yes!”
“JIGGER!”
“KELLY!”
They flung themselves into a wild embrace, and only much later did they begin to be gentle.
Sassi came out of the water, removed her bathing cap, and walked across the white sand to where she’d left the blanket. Lying face down on it, she gave herself up to sunlight and ease.
Ease. How long had it been since she’d felt ease? How long since she’d been calm and comfortable? There was always something, there had been always something for years now. When was the last time she’d awakened and been able to say, “I have nothing at all to do today”? Seven years at least.
The image she’d thought of yesterday still pleased her. This was a business deal, in which she was being kept from work until the studio produced a certain number of dollars. A deal like that was the easiest thing in the world to understand, and, in fact, the only other times in recent years she’d been able to relax at all had been when her advisors were holding out for more money. This was simply a variant on contract talks.
But a lovely variant. This time, there weren’t even personal appearances to fill in the gap. No planes to catch, no autographs to sign, no interviews to give, no stills to pose for, no Bennys to bitch at. Lovely.
Her guest room had included a drawerful of bathing suits, two in her size, plus bathing caps. She had the run of the island. The food was simple but plentiful, her time was her own, the ocean was lovely, the sun was magnificent, and at the moment she didn’t care if these particular contract negotiations went on for six months.
Someone sat down near her. Suspecting it was The Weasel again — her private name for Jigger — she kept her eyes shut, pretending to be asleep. The Weasel thought they were in a prison-break movie. She’d come sneaking into Sassi’s room in the middle of last night, waking her up with a lot of numskull plans, the plans she’d been thwarted from unveiling in the bar. Like rowing out to sea in one of the dinghys: “We’d be found in a couple hours. There’s plenty ships out there.” Sure. Or like sneaking around at night and barricading everybody else in their rooms. Or like breaking into the radio room. Or God knows what all. Sassi had tried to explain it to her, telling her, “Honey, they’re not being tough on us now. We’ve got it made. You try some dumb stunt, they’ll lock you in a coal bin.” But The Weasel was insistent, and finally Sassi had had to go under the covers and put her fingers in her ears until she’d gone away.