Audibon took Gabby's hand and pressed it gallantly. Then he led her
across the sidewalk to the waiting cab. He helped her in, followed, and
gave the network address to the driver.
"I'm sorry," he explained. "My baby's in rehearsal tonight. 'Operation
Universe.' I've got to look into the studio. You don't mind?"
Gabby was examining his bruised face with concern. "That happened last
night, Roy?"
"Yes."
"That's awful.... Awful."
"You ought to see my ribs," he laughed. "I'll let you autograph them."
"You mean you're in a cast."
"No, just tape."
"Let me see."
"Sightseeing on odd Mondays only."
"Let me see, Roy," Gabby repeated firmly. She reached out, unbuttoned
Audibon's shirt and opened it. His entire left side was bound with
white adhesive tape from spine to chest. She was so shocked and upset
that Audibon's hopes began to kindle. He let her rebutton the shirt and
adjust his tie.
"Artistic, isn't it?" he said. "They're poets of the intercostals up at
Gracie Hospital."
"I want to pay," Gabby said.
"Pay? What?"
"The hospital bill."
"Why?"
"It was partly my fault. Maybe it was all my fault."
"No," Audibon said. "Not your fault. Never."
"I think I should make it up to you somehow."
"Do you?" Audibon's hopes rose even higher. "We'll discuss it."
The cab dropped them at the network and they took the elevator up to
the big studio. It was an enormous room, half the size of an armory,
blazing with flesh-colored lights hanging in thick clusters fifty
feet overhead. On the studio floor were set up a country schoolroom
with a blackboard on which the solar system was chalked, a miniature
space-station, the interior of a rocket ship, half an observatory
including a six-inch telescope, half a laboratory with an electronic
microscope. The telescope and microscope were practical.
Before a fifty-foot moonscape cyclorama, a symphony orchestra was
rehearsing "The Music Of The Spheres" from Gustave Holst's "The
Planets." Alongside the orchestra, a technician was sprinkling glitter
on the show title HOW TO KNOW THE UNIVERSE. There were six cameras on
the floor. Six hundred yards of cable coiled around the sets.
The door from the dressing rooms opened and Galileo entered the studio.
He was followed by Albert Einstein in violent dispute with Jules Verne.
They were joined by Sir Isaac Newton and a striking red-headed girl who
looked incongruous in a Victorian dress and pince nez. Six children
from the Professional Children's School clustered around a piano on
which a man in a spacesuit and fishbowl helmet played softly.
"THIS IS YOUR UNIVERSE!" a voice blasted on a loud-speaker. There were
muffled commands from the control talk-back and the voice tried it
again with different inflections: "THIS IS YOUR UNIVERSE!"
Audibon rejoined Gabby after a lightning tour of the studio and took
her to a dark corner behind stacked flats, inhabited by a soda fountain
and a potbellied stove. It was illuminated by the twelve-inch screen
of a small monitor which cut dizzily from camera to camera, picking
up a fag director, a fag assistant, a fag floor-manager, a fag camera
director, a fag makeup artist, and finally following the red-headed
girl's interesting bottom as she strolled around the studio.
"THIS IS YOUR UNIVERSE, EXPANDING WITH THE SPEED OF LIGHT INTO NEW
INFINITIES!"
"Hello, pet," Audibon said softly.
"Hello, Roy."
"I'm sorry about last night too."
"I'm glad you're sorry. I hope it's for the right reasons."
"I'm sorry I wasn't with you."
"That's not the right reason." Gabby lifted a finger to lecture.
Audibon caught it and held it.
"You're a schoolmarm, pet," he said, motioning to the monitor which now
showed the schoolroom. "You belong on that set." He kissed the finger
gallantly. Gabby reclaimed it.
"I was looking at that water color you did out at Fire Island. You know
I've got it hung in my shop?"
"I wish you didn't," Gabby said slowly. "It isn't a happy picture."
"We were happy when you painted it."
"No. Not inside, Roy. That's why it turned out so badly." She looked
away.
"It's a happy picture. We were happy." Audibon smiled. "Do you
remember ... I had an idea for a show? Following the summer around the
world. I didn't want that summer to end. I wanted it to go on and
on ... with you getting darker and darker, and that old shirt of mine
you wore getting tattier and bleached.... What made us imagine it
ended?"
"You're frightening me, Roy."
"Why, pet?"
"I'm afraid to say."
"Maybe you're afraid to remember. No. Listen to me. Looking at that
water color and remembering how you looked high up on that dune, I
did a take. The summer never ended. There's been a little winter-type
weather, but it's only a station break. I don't think our summer will
ever end."
"What do you want, Roy?" Gabby asked quietly.
"I'm propositioning you," Audibon smiled. He took her arms and pulled
her close. "I'm asking you to make a dishonest woman of yourself
and have a fling with me. It's summer in North Africa. I'm spending
February in Egypt. Fly over with me, pet. Let's spend the month
together. I'll bring an old shirt. You bring your brushes. We'll live
in sin and improve our minds."
"And afterwards?"
"Why worry about afterwards? Maybe it'll be cold weather when we get
back; on the other hand, maybe not. Let's enjoy our summer again and
see how long it lasts this time."
Gabby came around a corner abruptly. "What does this have to do with
last night, Roy?"
"Last night?" Audibon was taken aback. "What do you mean?"
"This is the first time you've been romantic since we separated.
Something special must have happened." Gabby examined him candidly. "It
was last night, wasn't it?"
"No, pet."
"I was with Jordan Lennox and he hit you."
Audibon's fists clenched. He recovered himself and abandoned the
tenderness. "All right," he said crisply. "If you insist on being
cerebral ... I'm worried about you. I hate the idea of you free-lancing
around from job to job, never knowing where the next check is coming
from. I want to offer a contract."
Gabby looked at him steadily.
"I want to offer security and success. Not materialistically, but
Rennaissancewise. Don't waste time and talent on subsistence-type jobs
to keep bread in the house. Do the creative work you're equipped to
do ... and you know how stratospheric my opinion of your talent is. It
needs an oxygen mask."
"Thank you, Roy."
"Stop slumming, pet. Come back to me. You and I are top-level talent.
You've got to work where the work counts. Architectural design? The
network's dreaming up a new office building in Cuba. Take a dive at it
from the twenty-foot board. Stage design? Come into our set department
and rub up our imagination."
"You're very kind, Roy."
"Not kind. Practical. New talent is our priority headache. We know
it's around, but we can't tap it. The slobs outside the network think
there's a cabal to keep new talent out. There isn't. We just can't mock
up an efficient screening operation to locate it. But once we bark our
shins on new talent, we burn incense and work overtime building it up.
Let me build you up, pet. Don't waste yourself on the outside."
"This is quite a change," Gabby murmured. "When last heard from, the
picture you painted of me was a Gibson girl in mink doing public
relations for you."
"I've graduated since last year," Audibon smiled. "I took a
post-graduate in Women's Rights. I'll even go along with your
politics.... And think for a minute how much more you can do as the
wife of the network veep."
"You really are a wonderful salesman," Gabby said with admiration. She
came around a corner again. "Why are you so angry with me, Roy?"
"Me? Angry?"
She nodded and blurted out the truth. "You're furious. That's why I'm
frightened. I.... It's a secret I don't have to keep any more. You only
called me 'pet' when you hated me. You're hating me now."
"No."
"You are." Gabby faced him squarely. "Don't you think I remember all
your tricks? You smile. You flatter. You call me pet.... And then you
pounce. I want to know why. Why are you hunting me now?"
"I'm asking you to come back to me," Audibon said in a fury.
"Why?"
"To save your neck." Audibon whipped out his wallet, opened it and
removed Macro's slip of paper. "This was left in my office by a man
named Macro. Do you know him?"
"I know all about John Macro." She looked at the slip of paper, holding
it up to the greenish light of the monitor. "So he's got around to me
at last. Did you send him?"
"No. I talked him out of it. That's why he left this slip. I saved you,
pet. I told Macro you were my wife and he dropped you. I'd like to keep
on saving you ... as long as you're my wife."
"So you are hunting me."
"Listen!" Audibon grabbed her wrist and wrenched her toward him. "Macro
can hound you out of work. I can run you off The Rock. How would you
like that? Network veep sues for divorce. Communism and adultery.
Think how the papers would play it up. Gabby Valentine, the party
girl, recruiting new members in her bed. The latest volunteer ...
script-writer Jordan Lennox. Oh yes, I know all about your roll in the
hay with Lennox. We had a long talk about what a lovely piece you are."
"Roy!"
"Do you know what you've done to me?" He thrust her violently against
the monitor and trapped her with his body. "Do you know why I was up at
the Midnight Sun last night? Why I'm up there every week? I'm looking
for substitutes. I'm tying to find a replacement for you. I've tried
all kinds. They don't work. Nothing works."
Gabby caught her breath.
"You know that's always been my problem. Even when we were living
together, I--You said you'd take nothing from me when you walked
out, but you took my last chance. You took the one thing a man can't
lose. Why shouldn't I hate you? Do you understand? Do I have to spell
impotence for you?"
"No," Gabby whispered.
"I'm fighting for my self-respect. You're the only woman who can give
it to me. For God's sake, come back!"
"But why me? Why only me?"
"I wish to God they could tell me. Maybe they will some day, but I'm
desperate now. I'm begging. The nights I've thought of cutting my
throat.... You've got to come back. On your terms. On any terms. You
can't lose. I've put the whip in your hand."
"No, Roy. No."
"Some of those bitches I tried are talking," Audibon went on savagely.
"The word's getting around. You know you can't keep a secret on The
Rock. You've got to come back. The talk's got to stop. It's the one
thing no man can stand. You can lose an arm or a leg and they're sorry
for you ... but when you lose that, they laugh."
"Please, Roy...." Gabby tried to escape the trap. Audibon held her.
"I'm being honest now, pet. No romantic pitch from me. I'm not asking
for old-fashioned marriage and virtue and chastity. Understand? I said
on your own terms. You'll be free. Completely ... so long as you're
discreet." Audibon's face twisted. "I'll give everything. All I want is
you in my house."
"So I'm back to public relations again."
"And you in my bed ... once in a while, to give me a fighting chance.
Just once in a while. Take time out from whoever it is and give me a
break. For God's sake, is that unreasonable?"
"No. It's generous and horrible." Gabby stopped struggling and looked
at him with disgust. "If you don't let me go, I'm going to scream."
He flung her from him. She stumbled against the soda fountain and one
of the stools toppled with a crash.
"So help me God," Audibon said, "I'll ruin you. I'll tear you
apart ... you and Lennox. I'll run you off The Rock. I'll run you out
of the country. You'll lay for him in a two-bit flea-bag remembering
this. Now get out!"
He turned, stalked around the monitor and walked back onto the sets,
the dazzling smile corroding his face. Gabby began to cry. She opened
her purse, groping blindly in it for a handkerchief, scattering the
contents of her purse over the soda fountain and the floor.
"THIS IS YOUR UNIVERSE!" the voice roared suddenly. "AN INVITATION
TO EVERYMAN TO ABANDON SELFISH THOUGHT AND JOIN THE GREAT GALAXY ...
CONCEIVED AND PRODUCED BY LEROY W. AUDIBON!"
When Gabby regained control of herself, she gathered her possessions
and returned them to her purse. The last thing she picked up was
Macro's slip of paper. She examined it again, then followed Audibon out
onto the sets. She walked with her lazy carriage, shoulders square,
arms relaxed, followed by wolf-whistles from the technicians. Audibon
was in the schoolroom, one foot on a bench, lashing the director and
assistants with his smile and his words. Gabby went to him, apologized
for interrupting and handed him the slip of paper.
"You forgot this, Roy," she said quietly.
"Oh? Will I need it?"
"Of course. That's why I returned it." She held out her hand. "Goodbye,
Roy."
He ignored her hand and turned away. Gabby smiled and left the studio.
Downstairs, she went to a telephone booth and called Jake's apartment.
Cooper answered the phone and sounded cold when Gabby asked for Lennox.
"He's not home, Gabby."
"Do you expect him? I'd like to leave a message."
"No, I'm not expecting him, I'm happy to say."
"Why do you say that?"
"I'd rather not discuss Jake with you, if you don't mind."
"You still don't like me, Sam."
"What's your message, please?"
"Tell him I can't see him tonight."
"I can't guarantee he'll get it."
"Oh," Gabby said. "That's bad. I don't want to stand him up without
warning."
"Why don't you try the theater? They'll still be rehearsing. He may be
there."
Gabby called the Venice Theater. The stage doorman was the deaf, quaint
type ... wonderful for anecdote, impossible for messages. After two
minutes of patient shouting, Gabby got Tooky Ween on the phone.
"Tooky Ween speaking," he rumbled. "Make it fast. We got headaches."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Ween. That man made a mistake. I want Jordan Lennox."
"Lennox!" Ween roared. "That lousy, chiseling son of a--He wouldn't
have the crust to show his crust here. If he did he'd be dead and
couldn't answer the phone anyway."
Ween hung up. Gabby considered, then called the Grabinett office. It
was after hours and only the line to Grabinett's desk was open. Blinky
took the call himself.
"Is Jordan Lennox there?" Gabby asked.
"No," Grabinett snarled. "I only wish he was. I'd kill him with my
naked hand. I'd kill him dead and do a repeat for the west coast,
that--" Grabinett caught himself. "Excuse me. Are you a relative?"
"No," Gabby said. "I wanted to leave a message."
"Not here!" Grabinett shouted. "Not with this office. I wouldn't do
that Almighty vandal a favor if I was to get paid for it."
Blinky hung up. Gabby made one last try and called me. When I answered
the phone, Ned Bacon was in our living room, murdering our Bourbon and
Lennox. Gabby could hear him cutting Jake to pieces while she gave me
the message. I wanted to ask her up. I'd seen enough of her at the Rox
Record party to be interested, and I had about twenty-seven questions
to ask her, but there was no way of getting Bacon out of the house
and we couldn't have the two of them there together. So I promised to
deliver the message, if possible, and let her hang up.
That was about seven o'clock. She wandered east to the 59th Street
Bridge, cutting through some of the toughest sidestreets on The Rock.
She went through those streets unmolested. Gabby had a miraculous
quality of escaping the common dangers that make every woman think
twice. Perhaps it was because she never thought of them once. Perhaps
it was her candid, virginal manner that forced the world to give her
extra special treatment ... the way men are reluctant to swear before
a child, unwilling to be the first to teach it what they know it must
inevitably learn.
She went to a gloomy candle-lit restaurant under the bridge. It had
_avant-garde_ murals on the walls, Puccini records on a phonograph,
and hectographed menus. Half the waiters were enrolled with the Art
Students League and were friends of Gabby's. Half the patrons knew her
too. Nevertheless, she sat alone, consumed half a plate of pasta and
half a bottle of California wine. She began to cry again, and had to
snuff out the candle on her table. She was so upset that she wandered
out of the restaurant without paying. No one made a fuss. They tucked
her check in the cash register for another day.
It was half past nine when she got home. She took the elevator up,
trembling, aching, yearning for a hot bath and ten hours of sleep. As
she stepped out of the elevator and glanced down the corridor, she
stopped short. A man was squatting on the mat before her apartment door
with crossed ankles, knees high, forearms draped on his knees. It was
Lennox. He arose as she approached.
"Didn't you get my message?"
He nodded. "From Sam."
"Please go away, Jordan. I can't see you now."
"I've got to see you, Gabby."
She was so weak she dropped her key. Lennox picked it up, unlocked the
door and opened it for her. He followed her into the apartment, shut
the door and switched on the lights with a practiced hand. Then he
pulled up the giant shade that covered the studio window. Gabby sank
down on a low, quilted bench before the cold fireplace and said nothing.
"I wasn't parked here because I was jealous," Lennox said anxiously.
"Please don't think that. I mean ... I am jealous, yes; but I trust
you."
Gabby didn't look at him.
"I've loused myself beautifully today. I've been tramping around the
Village waiting to see you."
"I can't talk, Jordan."
"Could you listen a little?" He smiled appealingly. "Comes a time in
every man's life when he knows he's done bad things and feels guilty.
That's when he needs a friend to reassure him. Everybody has to have
somebody who believes he's never wrong."
She shook her head. "I haven't got the strength."
"Then could I just be near you a little? Maybe we can help each other
without words."
"No," she said. "Please go."
"What's the matter, darling? You're in trouble too."
"I can't talk about it now."
"Something's happened?"
"Yes. You loused me beautifully, too."
"I did?"
She nodded.
"How?"
"With Roy."
Lennox went cold. He waited for her to continue.
"Roy delivered an ultimatum. Either I go back to him, or--"
"That Communist routine?"
"And adultery."
"What!"
"Adultery," Gabby repeated. "You let something slip this afternoon....
Or did you boast?"
"This afternoon! I--Oh my God!" Lennox sat down heavily.
"Don't sit down, Jordan. Please go."
"Sit down? I'm groveling. I'm on my knees. How in Christ's name could I
have...."
"Be quiet. Just go."
"We've got to discuss it. We can't let him pull off a filthy trick like
that. We've got to fight him."
"No!" Gabby wailed. "No! No more fighting. I can't stand it any more. I
feel filthy. You're like starving dogs, all snarling and fighting and
eating each other. I won't be a part of it any more."
"You're just scared, darling. Don't...."
"You can't drag me into it again. Never again. Go away, Jordan. Go
away. Don't come back."
"Wait a minute," he said slowly. "You don't just mean tonight? You mean
for good?"
"Yes. I do."
"What the hell's got into you?" he demanded roughly.
"And now you're fighting with me again." Gabby pounded her fists on
her knees in desperation. "Get away from me. Leave me in peace, for
pity's sake!"
"That's a hell of a way to talk. Hello. Goodbye. I thought we were in
love."
"No," she said bitterly. "It was a roll in the hay with a stranger."
"For God's sake, Gabby...."
"That's what you're turning it into. You're not the man I met. You're
somebody else. I'm really meeting you for the first time, and I'm
ashamed. I ... If you love me ... whatever your idea of love is ... for
pity's sake go away!"
"My idea of love isn't running away," he answered. He put his hand on
her shoulder. "It's sticking together right down the line and fighting
it out together."
"Please don't touch me," Gabby said, shrugging her shoulder out of his
grasp. "And stop using that horrible childish word over and over again.
Fighting. Fighting. Fighting. That's all you know."
"What else is there?" Lennox glared at her. "Will you grow up! Somebody
mentions fight and you start screaming. Do you know what you're
screaming about? Have you ever been in a scrap?"
"Don't argue like a child."
"I'm asking a question. I want an answer. Have you ever been in a
fight?"
"No."
"I thought not. You're so damned pretty and so damned sweet-tempered
you've never had to fight for anything. Life's handed you everything in
your lap."
"I haven't had everything."
"Only because you haven't wanted everything. Sweet God, why don't you
find out what it's all about before you pass sentence on slobs like
me who've had to fight every inch of the way." Lennox pounded a fist
into his palm. "You're blind. You've had it too easy. A writer-type
guy once made up a circle. Life is Character, he said. Character is
Conflict. Conflict is Life. That's the vicious circle we're all trapped
in. You too."
"No! I won't be trapped in the dirt."
"Yes, you too! And it isn't dirt. You're like the prudes who think sex
is dirty. What the hell are you afraid of? Try a fight. Maybe you'll
get to like it. Maybe you'll get to grow up a little and come out of
your dream world."
"You're impossible!" she cried. "You're hateful!"
"You make a big pitch for peace," he growled, his face darkening. "You
talk it up about feeling filthy because the dogs are fighting; but
that's just cover-up, girl. That isn't the truth of what's in you."
"No?" Gabby answered steadily. "What is?"
"Jealousy. Envy."
"Of what?"
"What every man has and no woman has. You love to castrate us. That's
the one burning drive in you with your career and women's rights and
politics. You can't forgive us for that. You try to cut every man down
to your size, your sex, your weakness. I don't know what you did to
Audibon with your knife, but you're not doing it to me!"
She turned white. "You're horrible," she whispered. "You're worse than
Roy. Worse! I don't want to see you again ... ever! Go away. Don't come
back ... ever!"
"So you can go back to Audibon?"
"Is that what you think I'll do?"
"What else can I think if you won't fight and won't let me fight? How
else am I supposed to take this?"
She leaped up, ran to the front door and opened it. She held it open,
her dark eyes flashing furiously at Lennox. He picked up his burberry
and went to the door. There he hesitated.
"Listen," he began. "We can't do this. We've got to help each oth--"
"Go away!" she cried. "Go away and fight. Find your Aimee Driscoll and
beat her up again. Or would you rather stay and beat me? That would
make you feel manly, wouldn't it? Then I could go to Aimee and show her
my bruises. Would you enjoy that ... you big, virile beast?"
"Go to hell, you God damned bitch!" he shouted and blundered out into
the hall. Gabby slammed the door and locked it. She began to sob and
gag painfully. She ran to the bathroom and was violently ill. One
thought persisted through the sobbing and the sickness, Lennox had
destroyed everything and finished with her ruin.