THE BODY CAME DOWN AND JERKED THE BODY CAME DOWN AND JERKED
THE BODY CAME down and jerked the body came down and jerked
thebodycamedownandjerkedthebodycamedown andjerked THE. BODY. CAME.
DOWN. AND. JERKED.
Lennox rolled out of the bed and knelt on the floor. He leaned his
elbows against the iron bedstead, pressed his palms together and
pressed his lips against his hands.
Alongside him, No. 17 slept open-mouthed and filled the ward with
the fetor of decay. No. 8 laughed in a baby voice, No. 20 scratched
methodically with a monotonous rasp. No. 5 chanted: "The Lord is my
hospital, I shall not want. He marries me to green Packards. He leadeth
me leadeth me leadeth me...."
"No. No. No. Not a hospital. It's a jail, that's what it is," No. 9
told him. "It's a jail run by the lousy Catholics and Masons where they
can pull off their crooked political deals. Nuns and Priests letting on
they're nurses and doctors. Spying me out. Reporting. Giving me blue
looks and electric sparks out of the walls. They know I won't let 'em
run the country. I'll tell the papers. I'll tell everybody!"
"Did I ever tell you about paper?" No. 10 chattered with manic
brightness. "Did I ever tell you? A sheet of paper is an inclined
plane. A sheet of paper with lines on it is an ink-lined plane. An
inclined plane is a slope up and a slow pup is a lazy dog."
There were steps behind Lennox, and a heavy voice said: "Jesus! Will
you look at him? He's prayin' again."
Before the attendants could throw him back into bed, Lennox got up and
climbed in. They laughed ... two impervious men in identical white
uniforms wearing the identical expression of indifference. The only way
they could be distinguished was by their hair; one black, one red.
"Got you trained, huh buster?" the red-head said. "Not this time,
though. Come on."
Lennox put on the blue bathrobe and the straw slippers and meekly
followed the attendant down the ward.
"What day is today?" he asked.
"Wednesday."
The ward doors were unlocked and they passed out into a white corridor.
Barred windows looked west across The Rock and halfway into New Jersey
on this crisp, clear afternoon.
"More tests?" Lennox asked.
"Nope. You're all finished, buster."
"What now?"
No answer. Lennox shuffled in silence and terror.
"Are they going to lock me up for good?"
The red-head thrust open a door and led him into a tiled bathroom.
Alongside the shower was a white table on which was neatly folded the
clothing Lennox had worn the previous Sunday.
"Extra special for you," he said. "Why didn't you tell us you was a big
wheel, buster? Wash up and get dressed."
In a daze, Lennox bathed and dressed. He looked at himself in the wash
mirror. He was completely unchanged ... except for the three-day beard
on his face.
"Why should I be changed?" he thought. "Nothing's changed inside me.
I'm like all the rest. Sick. Feeding on what happened to Sam. Living on
poison. Loving the poison. It's only the innocents like Sam who suffer.
Our diet kills them."
Outside in the corridor, the red-head was waiting for him, sneaking a
smoke like a convict. He pinched out the end of the cigarette, put it
in his pocket, and took Lennox downstairs. There was a blurry business
in an office of unlocking a file and restoring his possessions ...
money, watch, keys, and the gimmick book which he slid into his jacket.
He flexed his right arm against it repeatedly. It was his one hold on
his life.
There was further confusion in other offices; papers to be signed
by a hand that could hardly bring itself to touch the pen, warnings
and official counsel to be heard, a brisk lawyer whom Lennox vaguely
recalled meeting before somewhere in the network. And most incredible
of all, there was Ned Bacon waiting for him in the hospital lobby,
leaning against a pillar like a Private Eye with his hat cocked over
his brow. Bacon shook hands warmly and took him out to his car. Lennox
was confused.
"Yeah," Bacon said as he drove uptown, "We kicked it around and figured
the best thing would be to hand Cooper the rap. He was cooled anyway
and there was no percentage letting you sit in the penalty box."
"You told them Sam wrote the letters?" Lennox faltered.
"Sure. That's how we sprung you. That lawyer could be a Federal judge
if he was willing to lose money."
"But Fink and Salerno...."
"Bob's a buddy," Bacon drawled. "We gave him the sign and he listened
to reason."
"So everybody thinks Sam...?"
"Yeah."
Lennox lay back in the seat, limp and helpless, too exhausted after
three days of horror and remorse even to ask questions. He flexed his
right arm against the gimmick book and let the arm drop into his lap.
Bacon glanced at him and smiled knowingly.
"Been rubbing elbows in the marketplace, huh Jake?"
"I'm thinking of Sam."
"Hell, he's dead. Think about the Quick."
"I killed him, Ned."
"A rope killed him, Jake."
"I tied the rope for him."
"He was an amateur," Bacon said. "He was out of his class. Nobody
killed him. He killed himself trying to mix with the pros."
"Trying to mix with the poison eaters."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Did you write those damn fool letters, Jake?"
"Yes, I guess I did."
"What the hell for?"
"I don't know for sure yet. I think because I was sore."
"What at?"
"Myself."
"What for?"
"I don't know," Lennox said wearily. "It's like there were two of
me ... and one didn't like the other. You know how every man's got a
voice inside him that talks to him like a stranger. Mine didn't talk.
It wrote letters."
"You aren't thinking about taking from a head-shrinker, are you?"
"I don't believe in them."
"Stay away from those guys, Jake. I wouldn't trust a talent that wasn't
crazy a little. It's the crazy that makes you the writer. Stay with it
and enjoy."
"Enjoy what? I've lost everything. God knows I made it a fight ... but
I've lost everything. I've got nothing left."
Bacon laughed.
"If it wasn't for you, I'd still be in there doing word associations
and ink-blot tests and--This is a big favor, Ned, but why? I thought
you hated my guts after I sold you out to Blinky."
"Just the Irish temper," Bacon said. "I'm directing 'Who He?' starting
February."
"It's going off."
"No it's not.
"But--"
"Sachs is moving over to our new show."
"Our new...?"
"'The Couple from Missouri.'"
"What's that?"
"Wake up, Jake. You remember that show we faked to cool the Kansas beef
last week."
"The couple competing on give-away shows?"
"Uh-huh. The network bought it. We've had to change it around a little.
Blinky'll tell you while we're signing the contracts." Bacon parked the
car in the low Forties. As he got out he said: "And remember, this time
we split three ways. No fifty percent for Grabinett."
They walked up Madison toward Grabinett's office. Lennox was even more
dazed. A moment ago his world had been in ruins. Now it was apparently
back in business and doing better than ever. He flexed his arm against
his gimmick book. Then he phoned Gabby from a drugstore. There was no
answer.
As they passed Borden's office building, Avery came bouncing out and
saw them. Lennox flinched. Borden ran over and shook hands.
"Only got a minute," he said, glancing at his watch. "Have to grab an
early train. What was it like in the hatch, Jake? They put you in a
strait jacket? Do they really have padded cells? I tell you, let's have
lunch tomorrow. I've got to hear all about it. Give me a call, not too
early." He waved buoyantly and darted into a cab.
Lennox watched him go. His jaw hung. He looked at Bacon with so much
astonishment that Bacon laughed. "Wake up, Jake. You've got enough new
material to eat free for a month."
"Material?" Lennox echoed.
"What else? You're lucky."
They continued up Madison Avenue. Everybody in the business was on the
street and everybody greeted Lennox as though nothing had happened.
Oliver Stacy hailed them and shook hands. "I'll give you a little
advice, Jake. Next time you have to handle three in a hassle, don't
fight high. Work low ... from the gut down. And use your knees. Forget
about fouls when the chips are down."
"Thank you, Oliver," Lennox said humbly.
Stacy spread his shoulders and massaged his ribs. "I can't figure how
Cooper ever got up there. It took me twenty minutes to get across that
grid and cut him down ... and I know how to climb." He turned to Bacon.
"How'd you do with her?"
"I'm going up to Brockton next week."
"She can't be that good." Stacy tilted his fingers at them lazily and
departed.
Bacon led Lennox up to Grabinett's office. The signs had been removed
from the corridor. Tooky Ween was in the main office with Grabinett and
both greeted Lennox warmly.
"What a Christ Almighty thing!" Grabinett blinked. "That crazy Cooper
jeopardizing a show like that. Tsk. Tsk. You get any good ideas down
there, Jake? Ray was saying how we ought to do the mad scene from 'The
Count of Monte Cristo' on the 29th. Jesus, you need a shave." He picked
up the phone and ordered a barber.
"He helped my boy write a great tune," Ween rumbled. "I don't care
what anybody says about him." He looked at Lennox. "Don't worry, Jake.
I'm takin' good care of that property. His sister's gettin' her fifty
percent regular, and it ain't a bad check."
Lennox was too weary to argue. He phoned Gabby and there was still no
answer. The barber arrived and shaved him while Bacon swaggered up and
down the office with his hat tilted over one eye and organized the
cadre of the show. It was to be a panel format on the insult level.
Mr. and Mrs. Missouri would interview guest stars, challenge their
right to celebrity and stardom, and demand to be shown. The stars would
entertain to prove their merit. Ween would provide the stars from his
stable. Grabinett would provide production and direction, Lennox would
provide script.
They argued budget for half an hour and then signed the agreement.
Jake's hand hardly trembled when he picked up the pen and signed
his name. He was beginning to feel solid again. The three days were
disappearing.
As he left the office, Grabinett called after him: "Regular show
conference tomorrow at two. Don't forget. Have the script ready."
"Mel! Have a heart. I've been in the hospital since Sunday."
"So you had a nice rest. Get to work."
Downstairs, he met Kay Hill, very slim and English in tweeds and a
fisher scarf, dashing into Sabatini's for a drink. She dragged him
with her. Lennox went back to the phone booth and tried for Gabby at
Houseways, Inc. She was not there either. He returned to Kay at the bar.
"So they let you out of the hatch, darling," she said. "Happy, happy
day. We'll pickle it."
"My God," Lennox said. "Nothing's changed."
"Nothing ever does change. What's your brew?"
"Soda."
"Scotch and soda? Bourbon and soda? What and soda?"
"Soda and soda."
"Lent's a little early this year," she told the bartender. "Soda for
my father. Listen, darling, there's no earthly reason why--Hello
darling!" She waved to someone who kissed her cheek and clapped Lennox
genially on the back. "Why you have to hire a pair of bloody squares
from--Hello darling!" Another kiss and another clap on the back. "From
Missouri to expert your new show. I'm your girl for the job and--Hello
darling!--I'll sleep for it."
"Listen," he said abruptly. "What happened at your place Saturday
night?"
"Oh that? I was bloody plastered. You pulled in around midnight with
that Bleutcher bitch and--"
"Midnight? You're sure?"
"Of course--Hello darling!--and when Oliver ran out with her I thought
the usual had happened." She finished her drink and snapped her fingers
to the bartender. "Poor dear, he went out like something after a hot
bitch. He came back like something after a cold shower; and I wouldn't
turn my electric blanket on for him. What about that job? It's a
cozy--Hello darling!--blanket."
Sabatini's was filling with the regular cocktail crowd, the men in the
same grey flannel suits with white oxford shirts and large expensive
ties, escorting the same pretty girls, exchanging the same dangerous
dialogue that flashed sparks like steel knives scraping together. It
was familiar and steadying. Sick, it might be, but it was the only life
that Lennox knew. He actually was able to grin at Kay.
"I could use your body, love," he said, "but I wouldn't dare touch your
dialogue."
"Don't be a bloody bug, Jake. You know I'm discreet on camera, I'd
never say--Hello darling!" Another kiss and another clap on the back
from somebody who paused to chat.
"What's with Cooper?" he inquired. "I hear he got into some crazy jam
and hung himself in the middle of the first commercial."
Lennox looked at him. "It was an accident," he said slowly.
"Darling," Kay began. "Everybody knows poor Sam--"
"It was an accident." He turned to Kay and for a searing moment his
eyes were more acid than hers. "Never forget that for a moment. Pass
the word around."
"Yes, Jake," she whispered.
"He was a wonderful guy ... too good for this business. I wrote those
crazy letters. Not Sam. He died in an accident."
Lennox left the bar and walked south on Madison, the highway of his
business, the highway of his life, the quintessence of Now. And the
Now was the same Now of last week, last month, last year. Nothing had
changed; nothing was lost, except Cooper. The life he had fought so
bitterly to hold together still stood firm, better than ever ... except
for Cooper.
"I don't know how I'll ever make it up to you, Sam," he thought. "I
don't know what I'm going to do. I can make the business jump through
the hoop, but that's not enough of an answer."
He turned east in the Twenties, threading through the dismal
sidestreets until he came at last to the little square with its
sycamore trees, its Greek cross of gravel paths, its black and brass
fence. He unlocked the street door of No. 33 and entered the kitchen.
His heart constricted. There were the Siamese making love to what
appeared to be Cooper kneeling on the kitchen floor filling their
dinner plate. The figure arose. It was Gabby in blue jeans and a shirt,
wearing dark glasses.
The plate was empty by the time he forced himself to release her. He
looked at her, still without a word. He had knocked the glasses off in
the first fierce embrace. She had a lurid black eye.
"Can you go inside?" Gabby asked. "Is it all right? We can go down to
my place."
"It's all right, I think...."
They went through the pantry hall into the living room. It was exactly
the same, even to the pile of manuscript paper on the piano.
"Why shouldn't it be?" Lennox muttered.
"I had to give the skunk away," Gabby said. "I didn't know what she
ate."
"He," Lennox said mechanically. "Raw chicken."
"Was it ... all right in the hospital? Did they hurt you?"
"No. I'll tell you about it.... Some other time."
With his arm around her waist, he paced up and down the long living
room slowly, letting his eyes wander, not daring to think. At last he
said: "A week's a long time on The Rock."
"Sometimes it's a lifetime."
"Usually it is. That's why we burn out so fast. Do you remember what
you said to me the Sunday we ended this affair?"
"You mean began it."
"No. That was the end. It's been backwards all along. Here we are at
the beginning. Let it be the real beginning."
"All right, Jordan."
He stopped pacing, took her hand and smiled artificially. "Good
afternoon. May I introduce myself? Jordan Lennox."
"I'm Gabby Valentine."
"What does Gabby stand for?"
"Gabrielle."
"Jordan stands for Junky. That's a hophead ... a lunatic."
"Oh Jord--"
"Shh! I'm introducing myself. I'm a crazy man, Miss Valentine.
Unbalanced. That's what makes me a successful writer, they say. Some
people don't believe talent is talent unless it's crazy. Do you think
so?"
"No," she answered gravely.
"Now while I'm introducing myself, Miss Valentine, I should tell you
what I write. You know the dirty words you see written on subway
station walls? I write them. That's my job. I also compose poems in
public toilets and do dirty drawings...."
"Please, Jordan...."
"Recently I was graduated to de luxe work ... dirty letters. But I was
so crazy I wrote them to--" He began to shake. "Remember what you
said? That I was poison. I am. I am. Be kind to me. Kill me."
"You know the truth now?"
"Yes."
"Then don't waste it. Remember it. Don't throw it away. Use it."
"How long have you known?"
"Since Sunday."
"And you're still around? Why aren't you running from me?"
"I've known since Sunday morning, not Sunday night. I wasn't running
Sunday, was I?"
"No. You were lying like an account man to save me." Lennox turned
away. "How long did Sam know?"
"A week."
"And he tried to save me, too."
"Yes, Jordan. He tried very hard. He tried to protect both of us."
"Do you know why he did it, Gabby?"
"Yes," she said. She was about to blurt the truth of her last meeting
with Cooper when she caught herself. "But you'd better tell me."
"I let him down," Lennox said bitterly. "He was a sweet guy, a whole
man, the only normal in the business. He had sense enough to want to
stay out of the rat-race and I shoved him into it. And then I let him
down."
"How?"
"I don't like to remember."
"It'll be best for you to remember. You won't be free of it until you
confess it. How did you let him down?"
"When he loused the song spot. He was shaky with stagefright. You saw
him. Sure he loused it. Why shouldn't he? He wasn't a performer; he was
a composer. He came offstage licked. And instead of standing by him I
blew my crazy stack about the letters."
"What did you say to him?"
"Christ! What lousy things didn't I say! I called him a fag and a Judas
and tried to get the cops to arrest him...." Lennox grunted in agony.
"How can a man do a thing like that to a friend? He was half my life."
"He still is."
"He's gone."
"No, you still have him."
"I destroyed him."
"You can't destroy remembering him. Never. Always remember Sam Cooper,
the whole man, your friend."
"It hurts," Lennox groaned.
"You're lucky. You can punish yourself for what you did. It's the
people who can't confess who suffer."
"Is that why you think he did it?" Lennox asked.
"Yes," Gabby answered steadily.
"Why didn't he hold on? Just a few more days. I licked 'em. I beat 'em
at their own game ... maybe because I'm their own kind ... but I came
out on top. I've still got the old show. I've got a new one. I've got
everything I was fighting for. Why couldn't he wait a little?"
"I put you on top," Gabby said.
"That goes without saying. I couldn't have done anything without you,
I--"
"You didn't do anything. I did it for you. Roy did it for you."
"Roy! Audibon?"
She nodded. "I made a bargain with Roy. I told him I'd go back to him."
"You told him you'd...." Lennox slumped on a chair. "So that's why the
show was renewed. That's why the network bought the new one. It was a
deal. Yes?"
"Yes. So here it is," Gabby said. "The life you love ... the life
you've been fighting for so desperately ... the life you want more than
anything else in the world. Here it is wrapped in ribbon, and cheap at
the price."
"Cheap!"
"Cheap. You won't even have to give me up. That's part of the bargain
too. I can have a lover if I'll be discreet."
"You're kidding," Lennox said faintly. "Please don't, darling."
"No, I'm serious." Gabby watched him closely with solemn dark eyes.
"You're two people in one. Everybody is, more or less, and it doesn't
matter. But it does to me because I'm in love with one of you and not
the other. I hate the one who built this life for you. I love the one
who's trying to knock it down. He's the real Jake."
"You've got it backwards, haven't you?"
"You've got it backwards. You admire the wrong one. You're trying to
protect the wrong one. I hate the one that's your favorite."
"But the letters? The crazy filth...?"
"I don't care. He's the one I love. He's filthy because he's never had
a chance, but he's the real Jake ... the honest Jake. He's a man to be
proud of; not the arrogant, hostile Jordan Lennox who hides him."
Lennox shook his head in bewilderment.
"Sometimes people fight to keep something alive when they should let it
be destroyed," Gabby said. "That's what you've been doing. You taught
me there are times when it's right to fight." She touched her eye.
"I'll tell you about this some day. Now I want to teach you that there
are times when it's right to surrender."
"What do you want me to do?" Lennox asked.
"Make a choice. All this and me for a mistress, or none of this and me
for a wife." She backed against the piano, still watching him intently.
"I won't cheat. I'll love my Jake just as hard as I can ... as long as
I can find him in you. But the rest is up to you. You can have your
shows and your victories and your money, and take your chance of losing
the real Jake forever...."
"And you too?"
"And me too. Or you can let this life come down in ruins ... you know
what Roy can do to both of us ... and start building the real Jake out
of the rubble."
"Maybe you're wrong about the real Jake."
"Maybe I am. That's a chance you'll have to take. But it's a fighting
chance, and you're a fighter, aren't you?"
"I used to think so."
"And there's one more thing. You know you're sick."
"I said I was."
"But you don't mean it. You're upset now, and ashamed. Later on you'll
forget. You've got to go to a doctor."
"A talk-doctor?"
"Yes. It won't be easy."
"I don't believe in analysts."
"That's why it won't be easy. But you need one, badly. You'll have to
promise to start and go through with it." Gabby took a breath. "All
right, Jordan. There's your choice. Keep on fighting the old way, or
tear it down and start fighting for something new. Make up your mind
now."
Lennox stood up slowly. He looked once around the room and then was
caught again by Gabby's intent gaze. For a long moment they stared at
each other while a voice within Lennox cried: "Run! Run! Run!" Suddenly
he reached into his jacket and pulled out the gimmick book. With one
powerful swing of his arm, he hurled it through the garden window into
oblivion. As the glass came tinkling down, he swung Gabby up in his
arms and carried her upstairs to his bed.
"I cheated," she murmured honestly. "I dressed for the part."
"Sweetheart?"
"Ned Bacon told me you'd be home today and I know you're sucker for
girls in pants."