Nick stared into the mirror at the red-tinged blue eyes and the lines beneath the eyes and the stubble of beard. He folded his right hand into a fist and slammed it into the wall and the pain soared up his arm.
Fool, he muttered to the puffy-faced image in the mirror, and turned away in disgust. His head throbbed and his stomach swirled about and he felt he might vomit at any moment.
He scraped his hand along the wall for support and dragged himself into the kitchen and took the container of tomato juice from the refrigerator. He poured the cold juice down and leaned against the refrigerator.
Then he went over and made a pot of coffee. He stared at the dancing blue flame of the burner on the stove, and thought of the dancing flames along Julie's naked body.
And he thought of her phone call just now, that had pulled him from a deep drunken sleep. And her thinly veiled demand that he visit her later in the day. Nick took two eggs and some bacon from the refrigerator and moved back to the stove and cursed Julie. Then he cursed himself and took a deep breath of the cooking coffee.
He looked down at the eggs and the greasy bacon and his stomach did a flip. He knew he would feel better if he ate, but the thought of eating was more than he could bear.
He took the coffee off the stove and poured a cup. And he thought immediately of Frances Dennison drinking gin from this cup last night. God, was it only last night, he asked himself and sat down at the table.
Only last night that Holly had left his apartment, only a matter of hours since she had left his life forever. He not only had no idea where to look for her, he had no idea of her last name.
What a fool, he muttered and poured sugar and milk into his steaming coffee. To think he had only worshipped her wild, hot body, and had not had the guts to realize he had fallen desperately in love with her.
He took a tentative sip of the scalding coffee, and told himself that now he had no reason to worry about Holly's messing up his future. Now he was left free to marry Julie and be subject to her every whim and to work and grovel for her father.
Nick had just managed to swallow some of the coffee and feel it warming his chilled body when the phone rang. He put the cup down and hurried into the living room and jerked up the receiver and prayed that it was Holly. "Nick, this is Sally Lewis," the tense, tired voice said. "Do you know what's happened to me?"
"Well Miss Lewis, uh, Sally, yes, I was going to call you," Nick said. "Now about your being transferred to another executive, well…"
"Transferred, hell," she said. "I've been fired. Effective at five this afternoon. Nick why did you let them do this to me? You know how unfair it is."
"Christ, I had no idea," he said. "I thought you were simply being transferred. Who the hell told you you were being fired? I'll have his rear end." Her laugh was harsh. "Miss Julie Connors told me Nick," she said. "And she made it quite clear what kind of a girl she thought I was."
"I don't believe it," Nick said, but he knew perfectly well that Julie was capable not only of having the girl fired, but of taking pleasure in delivering the blow herself.
"Nick please don't let this happen," she said. "Without a reference I'll never be able to get a decent job. And I've worked hard for you. You know that. And I've covered for you."
Nick detected the urgency in the girl's words and her tone and he squeezed the receiver and told himself he had become a vehicle for causing suffering for people that he liked and who helped him.
"Don't worry, Sally," he said, after a moment. "I'm going over to the Connors apartment right away and I'll take care of you."
"Oh Nick, I hate to put you to all this trouble," she said. "But I'm desperate. And Nick there's something you should know. Something that gives an absurd and unfair twist to this whole thing."
"What, Sally?" he asked.
"Well Mr. Connors has propositioned me several times, Nick," she said. "And a couple of times when I was working late, he's really mauled me. And he told me he would fire me in a minute if I didn't work for you."
"Listen, Sally, try to take it easy," Nick said. "I'm going over there now, and I'll call you as soon as I can."
"Gee thanks," she said. "I knew I could count on you Nick."
Nick hung up and a feeling of outrage coursed through his hung over body. Yet, he shuddered at the thought of storming over to the Connors apartment. He had lost Holly, and if he did this, he might lose everything else.
Nick went back into the kitchen and finished his coffee. Then he poured a second cup and walked into the living room and sat down at his desk. He sipped the steaming coffee and stared out at the cold, grey, snow-filled morning.
Dennison Beer, he muttered. He put his cup on the desk and bent over and took a pile of material on the Dennison account out of the carton that had been sent over by the agency. He drank the coffee and studied the previous ad campaigns that had been devised by the agency, and he knew that he was only stalling his trip to the Connors apartment.
The campaigns were all directed at sportsmen and had a heavy masculine tone, and Nick told himself that they resembled so many other ads directed at men. He finished the coffee and stared at the grim, snowy day through the window, and thought of Holly and her golden, glowing warmth and her youth and her enthusiasm and the way she made the apartment seem alive and exciting.
Nick stood up and went into the kitchen and poured himself a third cup of coffee and returned to his desk. Dennison Beer advertising could use an infusion of Holly's youth and aliveness, he told himself and drank the coffee.
He sat and stared at the snow and finished the coffee. Then he went into the bedroom and started dressing. He had pandered to Julie on the phone and told her he would be over later. By the way he gave in to her, he should have said crawl over later, he reminded himself. And now he had promised Sally Lewis he would storm over and save her job.
When he left the apartment and walked down to the street, he felt funny, and as he shoved the door open and stood in the sidewalk, he realized that somehow he simply did not care any longer about Marshall Connors and his agency and his daughter.
He had to wait ten minutes for a cab and he was shivering with cold when he finally climbed into the taxi. And as the taxi hummed along the street, he thought how warm he had always been with Holly.
The cab hummed faster and Nick shivered and his stomach seemed to be contracting. Holly, he repeated, and again he thought that he would never see her again.
And he stared out at leafless trees whose slim, black limbs were hung with ice and he thought of Dennison Beer. And he thought of Holly and of warmth and of honey.
As the cab slid to a stop for a red light, Nick suddenly thought of a beer advertising campaign based on a girl like Holly. Youth and sunshine and a glowing, honey-smooth idea. Nick leaned forward and remembered that for the past few years, beer sales were decreasing in bars and increasing in supermarkets where women did their shopping.
As the cab hummed forward again, Nick thought how the population was steadily shifting downward and how, in a few years the majority of the population would be under thirty.
He thought of the heavy, dull, middle-aged-men campaigns that had been devised by Connors and Ross for Dennison Beer. The market was going down in years and toward the opposite sex but the advertising kept plugging along the same, losing rut.
When the cab stopped in front of the Connors building, Nick dropped several coins as he hurriedly paid the driver. He did not even bother to pick them up. He nearly ran up the sidewalk and into the building and tried to picture the grin of pleasure on Marshall Connors face when he told him the campaign he had in mind.
Yet in the elevator he thought of Sally Lewis, and he thought of Julie and thought of his life as her husband and of his future at her father's agency. He knew if he were careful, he could have it all now with this Dennison thing he could take the whole works.
But he got out of the elevator and moved over the soft thick carpeting, and he knew he could not do it now. He had fought long and hard for something that could be his. But he had lost Holly and he felt cold and he no longer cared. He paused in front of the Connors apartment and realized that since he no longer cared, since he no longer had to please Julie and her father, that he felt more like a decent human than he had felt in a longtime.
Hanson answered the bell and bowed and scraped and showed Nick to the living room. The room was empty and Nick wandered about and looked, as he always did, at the elaborate furnishings and thought of his desperate ambitions.
And yet, he turned to stare into the fireplace and watch the liquid flow of golden-red coals, and he knew that not only would he probably never realize his ambitions, but that in a few minutes he would very likely be out of a job.
"Nickie, darling," Julie called and he turned as she came into the room.
She wore black silk lounging pajamas beneath a thin white robe, and Nick thought instantly how Julie always seemed tones of black and white and grey, while Holly was always golden and copper and blue.
"My secretary just called me," Nick said. "What the hell is this about her being fired? And about you firing her?"
Julie walked to Nick and pecked at his lips and then pulled away and sighed so that her breasts flowed against the thin material of her pajamas. "Yes, I was going to tell you this morning," Julie said. "I certainly didn't expect the little bitch to call you herself."
"My God, Julie," he said. "Don't you know what you've done? Sally Lewis is a hard-working efficient secretary and there is absolutely nothing between us. You can't just fire her like that. After all, she works for me."
Julie stepped closer and put her hand on Nick's neck. "Oh, don't be tedious, darling," she said. "If you weren't involved with the girl, then what difference does it make. Really, it doesn't matter, because I know after the other night there's no chance another woman will be able to interest you."
"It matters because the girl is without a job as of this afternoon," Nick said, and he twisted his neck from her tickling fingers. "It's damned unfair for her to lose her job for no reason. And how the hell do you think I feel having you go in there and fire my secretary."
"Nickie, your concern for the working class is touching and all that," she said, "but you must remember that you're in the process of moving from that class to my class, darling. You're fixing to marry me and enter a different kind of world, and it upsets me terribly that you're so concerned because I decided to fire a cheap little typist."
"Julie, you haven't bought me yet," Nick said, and looked at Julie and asked himself how he could ever have been in love with her. Or was it just his ambition, made easier because she was a beautiful girl.
Julie sighed and shifted her weight so that her body was starkly outlined against the flimsy robe and pajamas. "Please Nick, let's drop the subject," she said. "Tell me, how do you like my new outfit. I bought it especially for you. I must confess that I'm going to tantalize you unmercifully until we're married, so there will be no problem about your straying."
"The outfit is lovely," he mumbled.
"And how about what's in the outfit," she asked.
"Remember all those lovely things you said the other night, Nickie? I would like to hear some of them again, darling."
"Julie, you're a lovely girl with a lovely body, but I'm not concerned with that now. We've got to settle this about Sally Lewis and see where we stand."
"Um, Nickie," Julie said and moved to him, so that her breasts brushed his chest. "Just give me half a minute darling, and you won't even remember the girl's name."
Nick pulled away, and saw the provocative smile on Julie's face twist into an ugly sneer. But he was angry now, too, and he realized he did not want any of this, not from this girl, not from her father.
"If Sally Lewis leaves Connors and Ross, so do I," he said. "It's that simple, Julie."
"Yes, Nickie, it could be that simple," Julie said, and her words were etched with scorn. "Especially since you've messed up on the Dennison campaign. Daddy is getting quite upset at you, and you're obviously going to let him down."
"I've come up with the perfect idea for Dennison," Nick said. "But that has nothing to do with us, Julie. If you're capable of firing Miss Lewis before we're married, God only knows what you'll be capable of afterwards."
"Nick, I won't stand here and let you talk to me that way," she said. "You forget who you are, darling. And who I am. And you forget that I'm used to getting my way. After our time on the floor the other night, darling, you said all those lovely things, and assured me there would be no problems."
"I was still capable of selling my soul then, Julie. But it's not the same anymore, baby. In fact it's over. Finished. You can find yourself another boy to praise and pander to you. And I'm going to find a decent woman."
Julie took a step and slapped Nick. The pain creased his cheek and nose and he went rigid, then warm.
"You get out of this house, you bastard," Julie hissed, her face scarlet, her lips trembling. "Crawl back to the gutter where you belong. When I tell my father about you, you won't even be able to find a job in the gutter."
"You and your father can both go to hell," Nick said and stalked across the room. He paused at the door. "And Julie, with the next boy you pick up, be shrewd and don't make love to him. You're so terrible at making love that it gives your whole game away."
"Filthy cheap…" she screamed, and he walked down the hall to the door. As he left the apartment she was screaming that she was calling her father, that he would take care of Nick.
Nick slammed the door and paused a moment and caught his breath. He had no doubt that Marshall Connors would take care of him, and would slam the door to every decent job opportunity he came across.
Yet, as he left the building and stood in the snow and shivered, he had a good feeling, a clean feeling of being his own man, that he had not felt in a long time.
But, a few hours later as Nick huddled over a scotch and water in a neighborhood bar on Lexington Avenue, he felt only dejection and defeat. Sure he had walked out on Julie and on Connors.
But he drank the whiskey and told himself that if he had had any self-respect he would never have let himself get involved in the situation in the first place.
So here he sat, getting drunk, without a fiancee and without a job and without a future, if he knew Marshall Connors. And most of all, without Holly. Holly, he muttered, and finished the drink and ordered another one. The chill permeated the small bar and he thought of her warmth and the way her honey-smooth body always burned with desire.
And he thought of the hatred that glowed in her blue eyes when she left his apartment. He laughed bitterly and told himself he was shallow and blind and selfish, not to have realized how much he loved her.
Nick's hand was trembling as he lifted his drink to his mouth. He had to calm down, he had to find a way to pull himself together. There were a lot of decisions he was going to have to make. Very soon.
What bothered him the most was the fact he was alone. He could live without Julie, he knew that. In fact, now that the engagement was off, he felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulder. But it would be a lot harder to live without his job, without any job if Connors really wanted to ruin him. And it was very hard not to have Holly to go home to.
If she were home, he said to himself over a fresh drink, I wouldn't be here. I could rush home and into her arms and then it wouldn't matter about Connors and Julie and the job. At least, not for tonight.
Nick had an idea. He knew he couldn't bear the thought of going home alone tonight. There were many phone numbers in his address book, but he didn't feel like seeing any of the women they belonged to. Not tonight, not when he'd have to explain everything. There was one number, though, that he could dial, one woman who would sympathize with his plight because it was hers as well. Sally Lewis.
Nick crossed his fingers as he dialed her number at the pay phone. One ring, two, three, four. Damnit, she was out!
Nick was about to leave the booth when he was struck by another idea. An idea of how he might not have to stay alone that night after all. At first the idea seemed ridiculous. But the more he thought about it, the better it seemed.
He looked in his wallet. Yes, he still had the number of the call-girl service that a friend from work had recommended. He'd never used the number before, but he'd been assured that the service was first-rate.
The solution was perfect. He wouldn't have to be alone, he would have a beautiful woman to go to bed with, to take his mind off everything. And since he didn't know her and she didn't know him he wouldn't have to explain anything, wouldn't have to be reminded of the predicament he was in. It struck him funny to realize that, whenever he was in trouble, he thought of sex.
He looked at the small card with the call-girl service's number on it. The card contained a picture of a very beautiful brunette with thick, painted lips. Just the sight of her convinced Nick he was making the right move. He fingered the dime, then picked up the receiver.
As he dialed, he read the printed matter on the other side of the card. One phrase struck him like a hammer on the head: "Call any time for one of our girls – or two, or…"
Nick's face broke into a grin. Hell, if he was paying for it, he could have anything he wanted. Anything. And all his life he'd tried to imagine what it might be like to make it with two women at the same time. Tonight, he decided, he was going to find out.
His heart was pounding as he waited for an answer. After three rings, a soft feminine voice answered.
"Hello? Can I help you?"
"Dh, yes, yes you can," Nick sputtered. "I'd like a girl, tonight. Right away…"
"All right, hold on. Let me have your address, please."
Nick told her the address, his voice shaky. It was so easy!
"Any preference?" the woman asked.
"Preference?"
"Yes. Would you like a blonde, a brunette, a redhead, a black girl, an Oriental? We have them all."
"I'd like… a blonde," Nick replied. "And a redhead."
"You want both?"
"You heard me."
"That will be our special package," the voice explained. "It's slightly cheaper than twice the price of one girl. But we have to send certain girls…"
"Certain girls? What do you mean?"
"Well, some of our girls don't go for that, if you know what I mean. I'll send you a nice couple who get along fine with each other, and I'm sure the three of you will enjoy yourselves."
"Make sure one is a blonde."
"A blonde?" the woman said.
"Wait a minute." Nick held on for a moment, then the woman returned to the phone. "Yes, I have just the pair for you. Alice is a blonde, and she's very pretty. Her girlfriend is a bit young, but I don't think you'll mind."
"Not at all," Nick beamed.
"And she's a redhead," the woman said softly.
"How long will I have to wait?"
"You just sit tight, Mr. Harrison. I'll put them in a cab right away."
"Thank you."
"Thank you. And have fun."
Nick hung up the phone. He was already starting to feel better. He could be home by cab in ten minutes. He only hoped that the girls wouldn't be late.