Eve Page 14

  “What a sucker you are,” she said, her own temper rising. “I thought you and me could make money, but I was wrong. Okay, if that’s how you feel. It means nothing to me because you’re on the slide. You know me, Thurston, I’m frank. If you continue to kick around with this woman your name’s going to stink like a month-old corpse. Get wise. If you can’t do without her, for the love of Mike, don’t flaunt her before the public. Keep her out of sight.”

  I was so angry I could have hit her. “So long, Merle,” I said, opening the door. “There’s plenty other vultures who’ll be glad to handle my affairs. As far as I’m concerned, you’re through.”

  “So long,” she returned. “Watch your nickels, Thurston, you’ll need ‘em.”

  She was gone before I could think of a suitable reply.

  I began to pace up and down. What did she mean about my creditors? I did not owe any big amounts. What did she mean? I rang for Russell.

  “Have we any outstanding bills, Russell?” I asked when he came.

  “There are a few, sir,” he said, his eyebrows crawling to the top of his forehead. “I thought you kept check on them.”

  I gave him a hard look and then went over to the desk. I opened one of the drawers and took out an assorted bundle of papers.

  “You should have watched this, Russell,” I said angrily. “You can’t expect me to do everything in this damned apartment.”

  “But I’ve never seen this lot before, sir,” Russell protested. “If I’d known they were here . . .”

  “All right, all right,” I said irritably, knowing that he was right. I had been in the habit of putting all my bills in this drawer, promising myself to have a grand settling up at the end of the month. Somehow, I never got around to going through them.

  I sat down at the desk.

  “Here, get a pencil and paper and write the amounts down as I call them,” I said.

  “Is — is anything wrong, sir?” Russell asked, suddenly anxious.

  “Just do as I say and for God’s sake stop talking.”

  At the end of a quarter of an hour, I found I owed thirteen thousand dollars to various stores and tailors.

  I looked at Russell. “Not so good,” I said with a grimace. “No, it’s certainly not so good.”

  “Well, at least, they’ll wait, sir,” he said, stroking his chin uneasily. “It’s just as well Mr. Gold has given you an offer, isn’t it? I mean you can’t go on much longer like this. I thought . . .”

  “Never mind what you thought,” I broke in. “You’re not paid to think, Russell. Okay, beat it. I’ve got things to do.”

  When he had gone I took out my bank book. I had fifteen thousand dollars in hand. If what Merle had said was true and my creditors were getting anxious, I would be down to nothing in no time. As I put the bank book away I noticed my hand was shaking.

  For the first time since I had come to Hollywood I suddenly experienced a feeling of doubt. Up to now, with Rain Check bringing in a steady income, and my books selling well I had been confident of the future. But the play and the books could not go on forever. I simply had to make a success of this story for Gold. There were no two ways about it.

  I spent the next three days trying to work out the blue print of my script. I worked hard, but at the end of the third day I found I had produced nothing of value. The main reason why my work was abortive was that, for the first time in my life, I knew that I had to succeed. This feeling created a spark of panic which finally prevented me thinking clearly and as I became more and more worried I found myself filling pages with meaningless words.

  I finally pushed the typewriter aside, mixed myself a stiff whisky and soda and began to pace the room.

  I looked at the clock. It was ten minutes past seven. Almost without thinking, I reached for the telephone and called Eve.

  She answered immediately. “Hello.”

  A great weight rolled from my mind when I heard her voice. I knew then that I had been wanting to call her for the past two days. I needed her to share my loneliness and through her, I wanted to regain my lost confidence in myself.

  “Hello,” I said. “How are you?”

  “I’m all right, Clive. And you?”

  “Fine. Look Eve, will you have dinner with me? Can I come round right now?”

  “No . . . you can’t.”

  My mind grew dark and heavy again.

  “Now don’t say that. I want to see you.”

  “I can’t.”

  “But I want to see you tonight,” I persisted, feeling blood mounting to my head.

  “I can’t tonight, Clive.”

  Couldn’t she at least say she was sorry? I thought, furious with her. “You mean you’ve a dinner date?”

  “Yes . . . if you must know.”

  “All right . . . all right . . . I still want to see you. Can’t you cancel it?”

  “No.”

  I nearly slammed down the receiver, but thinking of the long hours I had on my hands, I tried again. “Wouldn’t it be possible to meet you after your dinner date?” I thought if she said no to that God knows what I’m going to do.

  “Well I might,” she said reluctantly. “Do you really want to see me?”

  What did she think I was crawling on my hands and knees for? “Yes,” I said. “What time shall we say?”

  “About nine thirty?”

  “Suppose you call me when you’re back? Then I’ll come on over.”

  “AH right.”

  I gave her my number.

  “Then about nine thirty. I’ll wait here for you.”

  “All right,” and she hung up.

  I put the receiver down. There had been no encouragement in that conversation. It had been flat, depressing and impersonal, but I did not care. I had to see her. It was like grinding down on an aching tooth, but I knew I could not face another night alone.

  Russell came in as I was brooding about her. He glanced at me, then at the litter on my desk and his mouth pursed.

  “All right, Russell,” I said irritably. “Don’t look like a bishop. Things aren’t so good. In fact, everything’s going to hell.”

  His eyebrows began to crawl up his forehead. “I’m sorry to hear that, sir,” he said. “Is there anything particularly wrong?”

  “I’m not getting the breaks,” I went on, after a pause. “Carol’s left me, Miss Bensinger’s quit, I can’t get going with my story and I’m in debt. That’s my hell for today. How do you like it?”

  He rubbed his bald head with the palm of his hand. “I don’t know what’s come over you, Mr. Clive,” he said. “At one time you used to be working all hours of the day. Now, you haven’t worked for I don’t know how long. It’s been worrying me. If you don’t mind my saying so ever since you sent the book to that Miss Marlow, there’s been nothing but trouble.”

  “Everyone’s trying to blame it on her,” I said, getting to my feet and pacing up and down. “But you’re all wrong. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

  He permitted himself a respectful smile. “I hope I have not offended you, Mr. Clive,” he said, taking out his handkerchief and mopping his forehead. I could see he was very earnest and embarrassed. “I do hope, sir, you will give this woman up. She can do you no good in the long run. There’s Miss Carol. She’s a fine young lady, if I may say so. Why don’t you see her? Why don’t you tell her what has happened and ask her to help you? She won’t desert you if she’s sure you really want her.”

  I thought of my date with Eve. It was no good. I had to see Eve tonight. It was no good listening to Russell. Perhaps he was right, but even if he was, I could not draw back now that I was making some progress with Eve.

  “I’ll think about it, Russell,” I said, getting to my feet. “Maybe it’ll come out all right. I don’t know. Maybe I will see Carol. Right now I feel it’s hopeless, but I may change my mind by tomorrow.” I began to wander round the room. “Be a good fellow and get me some supper, will you? I shan’t be going out until late.�
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  He got to his feet, giving me a quick, shrewd look. I saw his lips compress and his face clouded with gloom, but he went off without saying anything further.

  I felt a sudden affection for him. I was sure that he meant well and was genuinely worried about me. In my present mood, it was comforting to think at least someone cared about me.

  I was restless for the next hour and as the minute hand crept round the face of the clock, I became increasingly nervy.

  I glanced at the clock again. It was nine thirty-seven. Of course, I told myself, I could not expect her to be punctual, but any moment now the bell would ring.

  I could no longer concentrate on my book and I sat waiting, a cigarette between my fingers and a sick hollow emptiness in my stomach.

  Russell looked in to see if I wanted anything. I waved him impatiently away.

  “Shall they put your car away, sir?”

  “No. I’m going out any minute now. Tell them to leave it.”

  “Will that be all, sir?”

  I restrained the temptation to shout at him. “Yes, thank you, Russell,” I said with studied calm. “Good night and don’t fuss if I’m late.”

  When he had gone, I was about to glance at the clock, but stopped myself in time. You wait until she calls, I said to myself. It’s no use looking at the clock. That won’t get you anywhere. She’ll ring. She said she would and she will.

  I closed my eyes and waited. I waited a long time, feeling doubt, disappointment and frustration gathering in my mind like a clot of blood. I even began to count and when I reached eight hundred I opened my eyes and looked at the clock. It was five minutes past ten.

  I walked to the telephone, dialled her number and waited. I let the bell ring for a long time, but there was no answer. I hung up.

  Damn her, I said, damn her to hell.

  Then I poured myself a whisky and lit a cigarette. While I was doing this my mind crawled with cold, disappointed fury. I cursed her. All along she had been like this. Unreliable, selfish, indifferent. She had promised to call me. She had no thought that my evening would be spoilt She just didn’t care what happened to me.

  At ten thirty I rang again, but there was still no reply.

  I began to pace up and down, trembling with anger. She didn’t care a damn. Independent, was she? I’d show the slut! I’d teach her to make a sucker out of me! Then I threw my cigarette away in frustrated disgust. How was I going to teach her? I couldn’t even hurt her. There was not a damn thing I could do to her that’d make any difference. Not one single thing.

  If I ever get you where I want you, Eve, I said to myself, I’ll make you suffer for this.

  Even as I said it, I knew that I would not get her where I wanted her. If we were to continue to know each other, I would be the one to suffer. I would be the one always to give way, because she did not give a damn and never would give a damn for me.

  I called her number every ten minutes after that. I was determined to speak to her even if I continued to call her all night. At eleven thirty, she answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Eve . . .” I stopped because I could not put my thoughts into words. Rage, relief and hysterical exhaustion left me speechless.

  “Oh hello, Clive.”

  The flat, indifferent note in her voice galvanized me to say, “I’ve been waiting. You said nine thirty. Look at the time. I’ve been waiting and waiting . . .”

  “Have you?” There was a pause, then she said under her breath, “God! I’m tight.”

  “You’re tight, are you?” I almost shouted at her. “Haven’t you any thought for me?”

  “Oh Clive, stop it. I’m tired . . . I can’t talk now.”

  “But we were going to meet Why did you do this?”

  “Why not?” she snapped back. “You take too much for granted. I tell you I’m tired . . .”

  She’ll hang up in a moment, I thought, in sudden panic. “Wait, Eve, don’t cut me off.” I was half crazy with rage, frustration and fear that I could not see her. “If you’re tired — well, I’m sorry, but couldn’t you have just telephoned me? I’ve been waiting. I mean, after the week-end, couldn’t you have treated me a little differently?”

  “Oh do stop it!” she exclaimed. “Come now if you want to. But don’t keep on and on. It’s not too late, is it? Come now and stop talking.”

  Before I could say anything, she hung up.

  I did not hesitate. Picking up my hat, I ran to the elevator. A few minutes later I was in my car speeding towards Laurel Canyon Drive.

  It was a bright moonlight night and the traffic was heavy, but I reached her house in thirteen minutes.

  She opened the door when I knocked.

  “You’re awful, Clive,” she said, leading the way into the bedroom. “What’s the matter with you? I only saw you a few days ago.”

  I faced her, struggling to control my temper. She was wearing her blue dressing gown and a strong smell of whisky came from her. She peered at me, her eyes dazed, then she pulled a face.

  “Oh, God!” she said, yawning. “I’m tired.”

  She flopped across the bed, her head on the pillow and stared up at me. I could see she had difficulty in focusing.

  I stood over her, feeling a sudden revulsion for her. “You’re drunk,” I said accusingly.

  She put her hand to her head. “I must be,” she said, yawning again. “Anyway, I’ve had quite enough,” and she closed her eyes.

  “How could you do this to me?” I burst out, wanting to shake her and go on shaking her. “I’ve been waiting and waiting. Haven’t you any feeling at all?”

  She struggled up on her elbow, her face wooden and her eyes like wet stones. “Feeling?” she repeated. “For you? Why should I? Who do you think you are? I warned you, Clive. There’s only one man I’ve any feeling for — that’s Jack-.”

  “Oh, shut up about your goddamn Jack!” I said violently.

  She suddenly giggled. “If you could only see how silly you look,” she said and fell back onto the pillow again. “Do sit down and stop standing over me like the wrath of God.”

  I suddenly hated her. “Where have you been all this time?”

  “I couldn’t get away. I was working. What’s it to you anyway?”

  “You mean you forgot all about me?”

  “No, I didn’t,” she giggled again. “I remembered, but I thought it’d do your conceit good to wait. So I let you wait and now perhaps you won’t take me so much for granted.”

  I could have struck her. “All right,” I said, “If that’s the way you feel. I really don’t know why I’ve come. I think I’d better go.”

  She struggled up from the bed and put her arms round my neck. “Don’t be silly, Clive. Stay . . . I want you to stay.”

  You mean you want my money, you rotten little slut, I thought and I pulled her arms away and shoved her back on the bed.

  “You are in a state,” I said, stepping away from the bed. “I didn’t think, after the week-end, you could have treated me like this.”

  She locked her hands behind her head and giggled up at me. “Do stop pitying yourself. I warned you how it would be if you fell in love with me, didn’t I? Now be nice and come to bed.”

  I sat on the bed by her side. “Do you think I’m in love with you? You don’t give a damn anyway, do you?”

  She pursed her lips and looked away from me. “I’m sick of men falling in love with me. I don’t want them. Why can’t they leave me alone?”

  “You might easily be left alone. If you treat all your men as you treat me, you deserve to be left.”

  She shrugged. “They come back. It doesn’t matter how I treat them, they always come back, If they didn’t, I wouldn’t care. I’m independent, Clive. There are plenty of other fish.”

  “You’re only independent because you’ve got Jack,” I said, wanting to smack her face. “Suppose something happened to him? What could you do then?”

  Her face seemed to sag. “I’d kill myself,”
she returned. “Why?”

  “That’s easy talk. But you wouldn’t have the guts when the time came.”

  “That’s what you think,” she retorted, stung. “I did try to kill myself once. I drank a bottle of Lysol. So you know what that means? It didn’t kill me, but I was bringing up chunks of my inside for months.”

  “Why did you do that?” I asked, momentarily shocked out of my anger.

  “I’m not going to tell you. Come on, Clive, don’t keep talking. Come to bed. I’m tired.”

  Her spirit-laden breath fanned my cheek and I turned away, suddenly revolted. “All right,” I said, anxious now only to find an excuse to get out of this disgusting little room. “I’ll stay. I shan’t be a moment. I want to use the bathroom.”

  As I moved to the door, she took off her dressing gown and slid between the sheets. “Hurry up,” she said, closing her eyes and blowing through her lips.

  I stood looking at the other pillow. There were faint grease marks on it and it was slightly soiled. So she was inviting me to sleep in sheets that had been used by some other man. That finally decided me. Without looking at her, I went upstairs to the bathroom and sitting on the side of the bath, I lit a cigarette. I knew this was the end between us and my first reaction was of overwhelming relief. I had seen her as she really was. I knew nothing that I did, nothing I said would make any difference to her feelings for me. I was, to her, merely a means of earning money. I might have put up with her heartlessness and her drunkardness, but the soiled bed killed my infatuation for her once and for all.

  I remained in the little bathroom for some time and then I went downstairs and softly entered the bedroom.

  Eve lay sprawled across the bed, her mouth open and her face flushed. As I looked down at her, she began to snore.

  There was nothing in me now except a weak, drained feeling of disgust. I took two twenty dollar bills from my wallet and put them among the glass animals. Then I tip-toed out of the house and drove back to my apartment.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  LYING in my bed, with the pale dawn sunlight coming through a gap in the curtains, I marvelled that my association with Eve had lasted so long. She had done everything in her power to destroy my feelings for her. She had behaved with incredible selfishness, and brutal indifference and it was only because I had been so utterly infatuated with her that the association had lasted as long as it had.