Kitabı oku: «Odd Girl Out», sayfa 4
Three
On Saturday night Laura went out with the two fraternity boys and Emily. They walked to Maxie’s, one of the oldest campus joints, and drank beer and listened to the Dixie Six. Bud put on almost as much of a show as the musicians; Bud was Emmy’s flame—Bud was “it.” He would drop his head in his hands and groan at the bad notes and at the good ones exclaim, “Christ! Listen, Emmy!”
Bud was slender and tall, with thinning brown curls and round green eyes. He had remarkably sensual lips with straight white teeth behind them, and an impish smile. He was a well-known campus musician, one of the best; his reputation with a horn and with women far outweighed his reputation among his professors in music school.
He was a sort of perpetual student; the type that comes back year after year and never quite graduates. He loved music and he loved girls, and he seemed to exist quite satisfactorily on beer and slide oil and kisses. He was a campus character; one of the ones everybody knows, or hears about and wants to know.
Emily was the only girl who had ever come near to hooking him. It wasn’t the physical attraction; Bud liked them all pretty; he wouldn’t have taken her out the first time unless she had fulfilled that qualification. It wasn’t her twinkling charm or her compliance, either; it was all of these plus her willingness and ability to learn something about music—his kind of music. She was learning how to play the piano, spending long hours at it, so she could talk to Bud in his own language. All these attractions weren’t enough to keep him from surveying the field and finding a little competition for her, but as it happened that was the best possible way to intrigue Emmy, who liked to “work for a man.” He was fast becoming her major subject, and Laura and Beth had to sit through several monologues on his merits as man and musician.
Laura examined him curiously. The music didn’t move her, but everybody else was so excited that she pretended to be. She didn’t understand the mass fervor but she was afraid to say so, and she sat and watched the band like the others.
Fortunately it was not very hard to be friendly at beer parties, and the more beer you drank the easier it was. Not that Laura could drink very much. But Jim, Bud’s friend, did famously. With every passing quart he got friendlier. Toward the end of the evening anything in skirts was irresistible, and the handiest skirt was Laura’s. He made an effort to get better acquainted, draping an arm over her and squeezing her into the corner of the booth with the warm weight of his body. He put a hand on her thigh and began to press it, and Laura looked to Emily in sudden alarm. She hated to let a man touch her and she hated even worse to let him do it in public. But Emily was too preoccupied with Bud to notice that her roommate wanted help.
“Jim—” Laura said helplessly, and wondered wildly what to say next. Maybe all sorority girls did this. Maybe this was part of the price of membership.
When Laura hesitated in confusion, Jim thought she was searching for a way to encourage him, and he began, as he thought, to make it easy for her. He murmured, “What, baby?” in her ear, and “Tell me, come on,” with a nauseating intimacy, and began to plant wet kisses on her neck and cheek, his hand closing harder on her thigh, until it started to hurt.
Laura trembled in revolt and he breathed, “Oh, baby!” and pulled her chin around and kissed her lips. The hot blush burned her face and she thanked God for the bath of pink neon that disguised it.
“I was all wrong about you, Laura,” he whispered, and his lips brushed hers and they moved.
Laura wanted to claw at him, to burst from that terrible basement into the cold air and run and run and run until it was all miles behind her.
He kissed her again; a man’s lips were claiming her own, and it was all so new, so alarming, that it took her breath from her.
“Jim—” she said.
He kissed her again, harder.
“Oh, Jim, please!” and she turned her head away sharply against the wall of the booth. It was unbearable. No punishment could be worse than this. She waited, shaking, for him to reprimand her.
Instead he stroked her leg and leaned over her and said softly, “I understand, baby. Believe me. We’ll have time later.”
Laura thought she might be sick. It was no consolation to her to suddenly discover that she might be attractive to a man. She heard Emily’s voice across the table with such grateful relief that she almost reached out to clutch at her.
“Well, look here!” said Emmy. “Look who’s hitting it off!” She smiled a pleased smile. Emmy was a born matchmaker.
Jim straightened up a little and grinned at her. “Why sure,” he said. “Just took us a little while to find each other. Kinda dark down here.” He was delighted to have discovered an unexpected warm spell at the end of a chilly evening.
They laughed, and Emily gave Laura an approving smile that made Laura weak. It was apparently not only right but expected that she should let Jim maul her. Beth! she thought with sudden desperate force. Oh, Beth, if only you were here! The thought came unbidden out of the blue.
The two couples walked home together to the Alpha Beta house, Jim with a tight grip around Laura. She could feel his hip bone grind smooth and hard around its socket where their bodies were pressed together. She hid her cold helpless hands in her pockets and put her head down against Jim’s jacket. The grating of the wool on her tender skin was a comfort to her; it was utterly disassociated from human flesh and just irritating enough to assuage her conscience.
She murmured, “Yes” and “No” to Jim when she had to, and when she tried to keep him from kissing her, he took it affably as part of the game. And all the while Laura thought of Beth, so strong, so lovely, so gentle. She tried to peer through the defiant dark for the lights of Alpha Beta. But when they got there, she wasn’t allowed to run upstairs to Beth.
Jim hustled her out on the gloomy patio and imprisoned her on the love seat. He thought she owed him a fair measure of affection to recompense him for the evening’s entertainment. Laura’s aversion to him mounted higher with every kiss until it reached a screaming pitch inside her.
“Gee, Laura, I thought you were gonna be cold as hell,” he said. “You’re not, are you?” He chuckled at her.
Laura looked at him wide-eyed, held so hard that she felt she could count his ribs with her own. She hated him. She wanted to spit at him, hurt him, run. But she was afraid.
“Oh, yes,” he said. “You and I are gonna get along just fine, Laura. Just fine.” And he kissed her. “Just fine. Hey, open your mouth honey. Hey, come on, Laura.”
Laura turned away from him and whispered, “Jim, this is our first date. I mean—please, Jim.”
“I know, baby. You’re just a kid, you want to do everything right.” He tickled her neck. “Well, believe me, Laura, this is right.”
Laura’s nails bit cruelly into the heels of her hands in a frenzy of revolt. Oh God, stop! she thought.
“Hey, Laur, how ‘bout next week?” He waited. “You busy next week?”
She waited too long; she didn’t know how to make up excuses. She turned a helpless face to him.
“Good,” he said. “Let’s make it Friday.”
“Oh, but I—”
“I’ll give you a buzz.”
The merciful closing chime sounded, and she sat up straight in a spasm of relief. Jim pulled at her arm. “Hey, Laura, they don’t beat you if you kiss a boy, you know,” he said, laughing and pulling at her.
“Jim, it’s closing time,” she said sharply.
“You’re just nervous, baby,” he said with a grin. He got to his feet slowly. “Okay, I don’t want to make you a nervous wreck.” He pulled his jacket on. Laura wanted to yank it on and force him out the door with all the histrionic haste of an old movie. He got one more long wet kiss from her and then she saw him out the door with an audible sigh of relief.
Laura walked up the stairs feeling weak and miserable. Jim was a handsome boy. Emmy said he was popular, and she had another date with him. She ought to be happy. But for the first time a tiny doubt slipped into her mind. What do I want? she asked herself. But she was afraid to answer.
Emily caught up with her on the stairs and said, “Gee, Laur, Jim really likes you! I’m so glad. I thought for a while you two weren’t going to hit it off. When are you going to see him again?”
“Friday.” She wondered if Emily would notice her lack of enthusiasm….
Beth was still up. Laura felt a surge of affection for her.
“Hey, it’s past your bedtime,” said Emmy.
Beth looked up with a smile. “I wanted to hear about the date,” she said to Laura, and Laura had a sudden wild desire to throw herself into Beth’s arms and cry; to tell her, with all the violence at her command, what she thought of Jim. But she didn’t dare. She looked at Beth for a minute like a lost waif.
Beth smiled at her as if she understood. “How was it?” she said.
“Oh—very nice,” Laura said. Emily was watching her.
“Laura made quite a hit with Jim,” she told Beth, stripping off her clothes. Laura let her talk, wishing all the while that she would go away. She wanted to be alone with Beth; to talk, to be comforted.
Emmy kept them up for a while. Laura refused to go to bed until Emmy did, and finally she won the game. Emmy stood up and yawned.
“Guess I’ll hit the sack, you guys,” she said. “I’m beat to the bricks, as my friend Bud would say. See you in the morning.”
“Night, Em,” said Beth. She lighted a cigarette and settled back to gaze at Laura and when Laura could think of nothing to say, she walked over to the couch and sat down beside her.
“What’s the matter, honey?” she said.
“Oh, nothing!” The overemphasis rang false, and her head ached and Beth was so close to her that she was dizzy.
Beth put an arm around her. “Tell me the truth, Laur,” she said. And when Laura remained silent, she added gently, “It’s not a disaster if you didn’t like the boy, you know.”
Laura looked down at her lap, still mute, afraid her tears would start with her voice.
“What did he do, honey?”
“He—he— I don’t want to talk about it. It wasn’t anything awful. Emmy seemed to think it was all right. Only,—” her voice quavered—“I didn’t like it.” And suddenly she put her head down on Beth’s shoulder and wrapped her arms around her and let the tears come out. The pressure began to lessen a little.
Beth held her and rocked her in her arms. “You didn’t like it, baby?” she said softly.
“I hated it! I couldn’t help it.”
Beth smiled down at Laura’s back.
“Oh, Beth, I wish so much you had been with me instead of—of Emily.” She had been about to say, “Instead of Jim.” What a curious idea that was—to have a date with Beth!
Beth held her closer.
“I don’t ever want to see that boy again!” she said into Beth’s shoulder.
Beth broke the date for her.
Four
The days began to fly in Laura’s life so fast that she lost them before she could reckon them. They got progressively brighter; she wanted to memorize each one but there was no time.
A letter came from her father; he was a better correspondent than her mother, but all his notes reminded her of the fresh wounds of their divorce. Laura was ashamed, even afraid to mention it to anyone. Her father wanted to know if she had called Charlie Ayers and Laura revolted vigorously at the thought. She tried to picture herself getting him on the phone and saying stolidly, “Hello, this is Laura Landon.” Silence. He would get the point, of course. “Well—uh, gee, yeah, Laura, nice to hear from you. We’ll have to get together some time. Tell your dad hello for me.” Thanks, but no thanks.
Laura wrote her father that she couldn’t get hold of Charlie. She gave the impression that she had given him up in favor of a clamorous press of beaux. Her father wanted her to be popular.
Life with Beth, she soon discovered, was busy and unexpected and at the same time relaxed, as if nothing quite mattered enough to worry about. Beth was always occupied but somehow never in a rush. She had a phone installed in the room to accommodate her burden of calls.
“I just don’t see how you do it,” said Laura one night when the visitor count was high.
Beth stretched and came down from her stretch laughing. “It’s easy,” she said. “Lots of spare time. No social life. My God, if I had to mess with men I wouldn’t have time for anything. I know when I’m well off.” She laughed again suddenly, her eyes on Emily. “Look at Emmy,” she said. “You don’t believe a word I’m saying, do you?”
“Not that ‘well off’ stuff,” said Emmy. “Neither do you.”
“Sure I do. Now and then. My God, I have to. I’d go nuts if I didn’t.” She winked at Laura.
“Don’t listen to her, Laura,” said Emily in a motherly voice. “She’s depraved.”
Beth shrugged and got up with a grin. “You see?” she told Laura. “Nobody understands me, not even my best friend.” She threw a pillow at Emily, who promptly threw it back. Beth dropped it elaborately on the floor.
“You’re slowing up in your old age,” Emily said.
“Oh, go play your piano!” Beth instantly regretted the remark. She knew why Emily spent most of her free time—and there was very little of it now, since she saw Bud every night—practicing on the old piano in the living room. There was an almost pathetic childish ingenuousness to her plan to capture Bud that made Beth feel sad and helpless. Aside from that, she missed seeing as much of Emily as she used to. Her peculiar schedule usually kept her out with Bud or down in the living room until bedtime. Emily was fun to talk to and gossip with.
Laura carefully put the pillow back where it belonged and then said good night. Pledge rules forced her to go to bed at eleven, and left the other two to talk as they pleased. The curfew irritated Laura. She was afraid that as soon as she left the room her roommates talked about her. She always felt that it was too early for bed, that she was wide awake, that there was more studying to do. It didn’t occur to her for a long time that she was jealous of Emily.
Laura was right, in a way. Her roommates did speculate about her. They marveled at her two baths a day. They watched her scrub her face until it was almost raw and red and they noted how she always volunteered for the most dreary and uninteresting tasks in the whole house.
“Darn the girl,” Emily said after Laura’s polite good-night, “I wish she’d relax. You know, sometimes when you burp nobody hears you. If you say ‘excuse me’ everybody looks up and knows you burped.”
Beth threw her head back in a strong laugh.
“Well, that’s the way she makes me feel,” said Emily, grinning ruefully. She thought of Laura’s eagerness to please, her conscientiousness, as a sort of magnified normalcy that made Emmy uncomfortable. “I like the girl, I really do,” she said. “I can’t complain about anything she does, but—I guess that’s just it. I can’t complain. I wish I could. It’d make her seem real, somehow.”
“I don’t think she understands herself very well yet,” Beth said. “That’s why she’s so careful of everything she says and does. She wants to be sure it’s right.”
“Here we go again,” said Emily cheerfully. “The old psychology corner.” That meant gossip about a particular female. “What’s her family like?”
“I don’t know. She won’t talk about them at all. I’m afraid I scare hell out of her when I ask about them.”
“Well, that’s funny,” Emmy said. “Wonder why?”
On a Wednesday in late November, just before dinnertime, Laura was called to the house phone. She picked up the receiver without thinking; it was probably someone from her activity committee at the Union, or maybe a man. She had continued going out; it was expected of her. But not with boys like Jim.
“Hello?” she said.
“Hello. Is this Laura Landon?” It was a good voice, strong and low and pleasant.
“Yes.” Laura checked the files of her memory against the voice. It wasn’t listed.
“This is Charlie Ayers. My father and your father are old friends.”
Laura was silent, surprised.
“I just heard from Dad that you were down here. Thought I’d give you a ring.”
“Oh. Oh yes, Charlie.” She was flustered and awkward on the phone, especially with men.
Charlie sensed it and took over for her. “Well, look,” he said, “maybe we could get together for a beer or something tonight.”
She started to protest. It was a reflex action.
“Oh, come on, you can study any time,” he said pleasantly. “I won’t keep you long.” Laura was struck again by his smooth voice. She paused a moment and he took it for acceptance. “I’ll pick you up around eight,” he said. “Okay?”
“Well, I—okay.”
“See you at eight,” he said.
She hung up wondering if the rest of him was as impressive as his voice.
Beth was interested. “Charlie Ayers,” she said reflectively. “Isn’t he an ADO?”
Laura nodded.
“Seems to me I’ve met him somewhere. Where’d you find him, Laur?”
“Oh, he—he just called. I met him on campus.” She was amazed at her own fib, only half aware of her motives. They were many and involved and they boiled down to impressing Beth with her own importance.
At a few minutes past eight her buzz ripped down the quiet halls. She jumped up nervously, pulled her coat on, and opened the door.
“Laura,” said Beth, watching her with a smile. “You’ll need your scarf. It’s cold.”
“Oh, yes. Thanks.” She pulled it from the shelf and settled it around her shoulders, and started for the door again.
“Got your gloves?” Beth asked.
Embarrassed, Laura turned back to her dresser and pulled them out.
“How ‘bout your purse, honey?” Beth chuckled at her.
“Oh!” said Laura impatiently, grabbing it and starting out again.
“Laura,” said Beth in a slow teasing voice. “Aren’t you going to kiss me good-by?”
Laura whirled and stared wide-eyed at her. Beth grinned. “Go on, honey,” she said. “Have fun.”
Laura backed out of the room and then turned and almost ran down the hall, her heart pounding, thrumming a thunderstorm inside her. Emily came out of the bathroom one door down and said, “Have a good time, Laur.” Laura watched her retreat down the hall toward Beth with a sudden pang of jealousy so strong that she had to admit it to herself for the first time. Her buzz sounded again, and she had to go downstairs and meet Charlie.
She gazed anxiously around the front hall as she came down, and finally she saw a young man with dark hair glancing through a magazine, standing with his back to her. The lower she came the higher he seemed to stand from the floor. He wasn’t aware of her until her heels clicked on the marble floor of the hall. Then he turned around, tossed the magazine down, and smiled at her.
“You must be Laura,” he said, and walked across the room to take her hand. “I’m Charlie Ayers.”
“Hi,” she said, intimidated by his height and afraid her nervousness would betray itself. His face went very well with his voice.
Charlie took her arm and said, “Let’s go to Pratt’s.”
He held the door for her and led her down the front walk to his car—an eight-year-old Ford with a dubious repaint job that left it generally green in tone. “It’s not beautiful, but it runs,” he said, laughing as he let her in. He was so sure, so calm and steady, that Laura began to relax a little. She tried to think of him, not of Beth.
Pratt’s had a fair number of customers for a Wednesday night when Charlie and Laura walked in. They found a booth and Charlie helped her out of her coat.
He leaned over the table while she sat down. “Beer?” he said.
“Just a Coke, thanks.”
He went to get it—no such thing as service in a student bistro—and left her to think. She made a powerful effort to avoid Beth and concentrate on Charlie. He was handsome and friendly and he didn’t seem disappointed to find her ordinary-looking. She thought boys who looked like Charlie wanted only beautiful girls. She pictured him with a beautiful girl. She made a cigarette ad of them, a little TV commercial in which Charlie, in a tuxedo, leaned amorously over a white-clothed table to light the beautiful girl’s cigarette, and she inhaled the intoxicating vapors till her strapless gown groaned with the burden of her breasts, and then blew the smoke out at the audience. And then she turned back to Charlie and smiled enchantingly into his wonderful face. They really made an eye-catching couple. When Laura recognized the girl in the picture it shocked her heart into action again. It was Beth.
Charlie set a Coke and a beer and glasses down on the table, and sat down facing her, interrupting her disturbing reverie. She couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Well, I guess our fathers have been friends for a long time,” he said.
“Yes, they certainly have.”
Laura let him talk, but she didn’t encourage him. She didn’t like to talk about her father. It always made her feel sad and a little frightened, and after a while it tired her out.
“That’s a fine house you’re in,” he said. “Let’s see, I should know some of your sorority sisters. Baker?”
“Mary Lou. She’s the president.”
“Yeah, I remember her. Sort of pretty. Nice gal. Gloria Clark?”
Laura nodded.
“Gee, I knew a lovely dish over there a couple of years ago … Beth Cullison. Never see her around any more.”
“Do you know Beth?” said Laura, uncertain and faintly alarmed.
“Oh, everybody knows Beth. I’ve met her a couple of times. I don’t think she remembers me, though. This was a few years ago when she was dating a fraternity brother of mine. Pinned to him, in fact.”
“Who?” she asked. She had to know.
“Oh, you wouldn’t know him. Graduated last year.”
“What was he like?”
Charlie smiled quizzically at her eagerness, without answering her. She began to feel the need to explain herself.
“Beth’s my roommate,” she said.
“Oh.” He nodded, smiling. “Well, he was a nice guy. Quite an intelligent boy. They used to have long philosophical discussions. I guess Beth went for that in a big way.”
Laura didn’t like him, whoever he was. She didn’t like to think that Beth had confided in him, kissed him, even. The thought produced a rash of gooseflesh.
Charlie ran his hand over the back of his head, the cigarette jutting out and away from his crisp brown hair, and he watched Laura as he did it. “As I say, I don’t really know the girl. Just met her briefly. But I remember her….”
Laura didn’t answer, and Charlie casually changed the subject. “When’s your father coming down to pay you a visit?” he said.
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think he will. He’s too busy,” she answered, but she was thinking about Beth. What did the boy look like? Was he fun, had he been in love with her? Did she like him? Did she let him …
“Too busy?” said Charlie. “Must be traveling, hm?”
“No,” she answered absently, “he and my mother are—I mean—they—” She was suddenly staring at Charlie in confusion. It was too late.
“They what?” he said.
She looked around helplessly as if some way of escape might suddenly appear, and all of a sudden she felt very weak and lost. Her family was falling apart, and she was falling in love with Beth. The world was inside out, all wrong. She didn’t understand it, she hardly even realized what was happening to her. She couldn’t stop and she didn’t know where she was going. Charlie’s eyes burned her face.
Laura put her head in her hands and tight silent sobs shook her. He came around the table and sat beside her, putting an arm around her and trying to comfort her. “You know, we’re really old friends, Laura. By proxy, anyway. I’m a great listener. Want to tell me about it?”
She couldn’t control her tears. At last she said simply, “They’ve gotten a divorce. It’s all over now. It shouldn’t affect me like this. Please don’t tell anybody,” and she looked up at Charlie anxiously.
“Of course not,” he said. “But just remember I’ve got a dandy shoulder for crying on, any time you’re in the mood.” And he gave her a warming smile. Laura returned it gratefully.
“Come on, let’s go,” he said.
At the Alpha Beta front door Charlie said, “I’m not going in with you, Laura.” She looked up in surprise, and he chuckled. “You might feel obliged to kiss me good night. Gets pretty hot and heavy in the front hall at closing time—as I recall.” He was not in the least tempted to kiss her.
It seemed to Laura a very special favor, one that respected her acute sensitivity, and she didn’t know how to thank him. “Charlie—” she began. “It was very nice of you to take me out and listen to my troubles.”
“Wasn’t nice of me at all. I enjoyed it,” he said with a smile. In the little silence that followed it struck him that there was only one way to prove that statement and that was to ask her out again. It occurred to Laura too, only to humiliate her. But Charlie saw her as a nice kid in an emotional jam, and because she seemed to need someone to lean on, because of their families, because she looked forlorn, he thought one more evening wouldn’t hurt him. “When can I see you again?”
Laura was astonished. “Why, I don’t know—” she said.
“Well, how about a week from Saturday?” he said, figuring only that he hadn’t any other plans.
“Oh, that would be fine.” She looked at him curiously.
“Swell. I’ll call you,” he said. And he went off down the front walk.
She went upstairs to the room, wondering why Charlie Ayers had asked her out for the night of the Varieties show, one of the biggest campus events. Charlie didn’t know he had until two days later when he checked the university calendar, and then he cursed himself. But he didn’t break the date.
Laura came in the room to find Beth on the phone. She looked up from her conversation and smiled at Laura and after a moment she hung up. She spun around in her chair and said, “Well, is he as good as he looks?”
“Oh,” Laura blushed. “He’s awfully nice.”
“Going to see him again?”
“Yes. For the night of the Varieties.”
“Well!” Beth smiled at her. “He must be impressed.” Laura didn’t answer. “Finally remembered where I met that guy,” she went on.
An awful suspense grabbed at Laura’s stomach. “Who?” she said.
Beth frowned a little. “Your friend. Ayers. Charlie.”
“Oh. Have you met him?”
Beth studied her and Laura could feel her amusement without understanding it. “Um-hm,” Beth said. “Real handsome kid, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” Laura said briefly. She didn’t like the way Beth and Charlie remembered each other at all.
“Well, I think I’ve got it now—I must have met him at a party somewhere.”
“A fraternity party?” She was chagrined by her own jealousy.
“I guess so.” Beth smiled. “Charlie been telling tales?”
“Of course not!”
Beth began to laugh softly. “Laura, you must be interested.”
Laura’s face turned red. “In what?”
“In Charlie, of course. What else?” Laura couldn’t look at her smile. “I don’t blame you,” Beth went on, needling her subtly. “He’s nice, as I remember. I thought it was a damn waste to give a brain like that to a guy with a face like that.”
Laura wouldn’t answer her. She wouldn’t even look at her. Beth enjoyed the boycott.
“He’s too handsome for me,” she said. Laura rummaged defiantly in her closet, her back to Beth. “I like ’em ugly,” Beth said.
“Oh, you’re just joking,” Laura said pettishly to a wall of wool skirts.
“No, I’m not. I like ugly faces. I like interesting faces better than pretty faces…. You have an interesting face.”
Laura turned around then and met Beth’s provocative eyes for an instant and then looked at the floor. “I do?” she said.
The door opened noisily and Emily burst in, laughing. “Hi, roomies!” she said.
“Jesus, Emmy!” Beth got up with a grin and walked over to her. “Let me see your face.” It was lipsticked from ear to ear and down her neck to the collar of her blouse. Beth laughed at her. “Laura, our roommate is bombed,” she said.
Emily studied herself in the mirror. “And it’s indelible,” she wailed.
“Is she drunk?” Laura whispered to Beth.
“Sure,” said Beth. “She’s stoned.” She took Emmy’s chin in her hand and surveyed her face. Emmy submitted docilely to the examination, with her eyes shut. “Open your eyes, Em, I’m not going to kiss you,” said Beth. “Bud went home, remember?”
And Emily got the giggles again. She took a piece of Kleenex and began to rub at the lipstick, which resisted her efforts and sat firm on her face. After a minute she gave up and stared at herself in dismay. Beth pulled open a dresser drawer and handed her a jar of cold cream.
“Not that you deserve it,” she said. Emmy clung to her and laughed. “Come on,” Beth said in a businesslike voice. She smeared cream over Emmy’s face, rubbing it in carefully. “Every time she goes out with Bud, this is what happens,” Beth told Laura. “She says it’s good for his morale.”
“Oh, Beth, I do not!” Emily said. “I said it was good for his music.”
“God, I’ll say it is. When you finish with him, Em, he can play in the key of Q.”
Laura didn’t like to see girls drunk. She sat on the studio couch and said hesitantly, “Well, it must be sort of exotic to date a musician.”
“Exotic-exschmotic,” said Emily. “He comes with the same basic equipment as any other man.” Beth laughed, but Laura saw nothing to laugh at. “Only he’s the deluxe model,” Emmy added. She pulled her clothes off vigorously.
“Here, here!” exclaimed Beth. “You have to wear that again. God, Emmy, you act like you wear ’em once and throw ’em away!” And she rescued Emily’s skirt and blouse from the floor. She pulled a towel from the rack on the closet door and draped it over Emily’s shoulders, stuck her toothbrush in her hand, and propelled her firmly toward the door.
Ücretsiz ön izlemeyi tamamladınız.
