she had given him in these last few days.
Sweating, he dialed her number again. Flo answered.
“Has Joanne come in yet?” he said.
“She isn’t here.”
“Do you know when she will be in?”
“No. She’s not here, Mr. Stuart. That’s what she said to tell you — she isn’t here.”
chapter eleven
C LAY WAS standing out in the circular drive when Shatner’s car turned into it. Shatner lifted his arm in greeting but Stuart was pacing, prowling, and he did not respond.
Shatner brought the Olds to a stop. He sat there a moment looking at Clay. A long time he’d known Clay Stuart, he’d never seen him like this. They talked about it when a man got the hots for some broad, but nobody knew what it was like, the agony he could not even conceal, until they saw it like this.
Shatner winced, feeling sorry for Clay. He had never wanted any woman this fiercely, not for more than a day or so at the most, but he could imagine what Stuart was going through. He thought Clay was a fool but realized a thing like this was a sickness and even he himself was susceptible.
God forbid.
“Hello, baby,” he said, getting out of his car.
Clay looked at him, but did not speak. Shatner smiled. He had lived in Hollywood a long time. He had learned how to smile with knives in his gizzard.
“Three days,” he said, keeping it light. “About time you called.”
“I had a reason.”
“You needed a reason to call Marc Shatner? What am I, kid? A friend of yours you can treat like this? This is Shatner.”
“Yes.”
Shatner reached up, put his arm about Clay’s shoulder. “Come on, kid, who are we? The Cohens and the Kellys?”
“I don’t feel like the funny words, Marc. You mind?” Clay shrugged away from Shatner’s arm.
“Sure I mind. We been together too long for this sort of deal. You — I hate to say this, kid, you’re acting like a child. Like a real child. Sharon acted this way, what would you do? This I’ll tell you. You’d warm her bottom. You’re too big for me. I can’t do that. I’m asking you. Come out of it.”
“Sure.”
“Okay. Three days now you’ve sulked. When you plan to talk to Hoff and me again? Me? I don’t mind. But Hoff is an old man. Hasn’t many friends.”
“That breaks me up.”
Shatner pretended to misunderstand. “So when you going to start loving us again?”
“When Joanne comes back — if Joanne comes back.”
Shatner cursed. He kicked at a loose pebble in the drive. “Oh, for God’s sake. Aren’t we going in the house? Aren’t you going to offer me a drink? It’s a long way from here to the Derby.”
“This is all right.”
“So be it.” Shatner sat down on the top step of the veranda. “Clay, you can’t go on hating us for what a dame like that does.”
“Can’t I?”
“She’ll come back.”
“You said that three days ago. It bends before it hits me.”
“All right. A filly like that. A doll on the make. Who can tell what she’ll do?”
Stuart stared down at him. “You gave her my phone number in the first place, didn’t you?”
Shatner scowled up at Clay. He searched his face to see if he were joking. He shook his head slowly, slashed at the air with the side of his hand.
“You crazy? I would do a thing like this to you? A man closer than my own brother. The only
goy
I ever loved. I fixed you up with pigs — a quick snort and that was all … Oh, no. Don’t blame this thing on me.”
Stuart shrugged. “All right,” he said. “Get out.”
• • •
He dialed the number Joanne had given him so long ago. It seemed an eternity; it seemed the time he could reflect upon as the good old days. Joanne was with him, and things were simple and uncomplicated.
He listened to the phone ringing across the wires, ten, fifteen times. Finally the receiver was lifted. A weary voice said, “Hello?”
“Flo?”
“Oh, I’m sorry …” It was Flo, all right. But she wasn’t even going to talk to him any more.
He felt a sudden rush of
Sweating, he dialed her number again. Flo answered.
“Has Joanne come in yet?” he said.
“She isn’t here.”
“Do you know when she will be in?”
“No. She’s not here, Mr. Stuart. That’s what she said to tell you — she isn’t here.”
chapter eleven
C LAY WAS standing out in the circular drive when Shatner’s car turned into it. Shatner lifted his arm in greeting but Stuart was pacing, prowling, and he did not respond.
Shatner brought the Olds to a stop. He sat there a moment looking at Clay. A long time he’d known Clay Stuart, he’d never seen him like this. They talked about it when a man got the hots for some broad, but nobody knew what it was like, the agony he could not even conceal, until they saw it like this.
Shatner winced, feeling sorry for Clay. He had never wanted any woman this fiercely, not for more than a day or so at the most, but he could imagine what Stuart was going through. He thought Clay was a fool but realized a thing like this was a sickness and even he himself was susceptible.
God forbid.
“Hello, baby,” he said, getting out of his car.
Clay looked at him, but did not speak. Shatner smiled. He had lived in Hollywood a long time. He had learned how to smile with knives in his gizzard.
“Three days,” he said, keeping it light. “About time you called.”
“I had a reason.”
“You needed a reason to call Marc Shatner? What am I, kid? A friend of yours you can treat like this? This is Shatner.”
“Yes.”
Shatner reached up, put his arm about Clay’s shoulder. “Come on, kid, who are we? The Cohens and the Kellys?”
“I don’t feel like the funny words, Marc. You mind?” Clay shrugged away from Shatner’s arm.
“Sure I mind. We been together too long for this sort of deal. You — I hate to say this, kid, you’re acting like a child. Like a real child. Sharon acted this way, what would you do? This I’ll tell you. You’d warm her bottom. You’re too big for me. I can’t do that. I’m asking you. Come out of it.”
“Sure.”
“Okay. Three days now you’ve sulked. When you plan to talk to Hoff and me again? Me? I don’t mind. But Hoff is an old man. Hasn’t many friends.”
“That breaks me up.”
Shatner pretended to misunderstand. “So when you going to start loving us again?”
“When Joanne comes back — if Joanne comes back.”
Shatner cursed. He kicked at a loose pebble in the drive. “Oh, for God’s sake. Aren’t we going in the house? Aren’t you going to offer me a drink? It’s a long way from here to the Derby.”
“This is all right.”
“So be it.” Shatner sat down on the top step of the veranda. “Clay, you can’t go on hating us for what a dame like that does.”
“Can’t I?”
“She’ll come back.”
“You said that three days ago. It bends before it hits me.”
“All right. A filly like that. A doll on the make. Who can tell what she’ll do?”
Stuart stared down at him. “You gave her my phone number in the first place, didn’t you?”
Shatner scowled up at Clay. He searched his face to see if he were joking. He shook his head slowly, slashed at the air with the side of his hand.
“You crazy? I would do a thing like this to you? A man closer than my own brother. The only
goy
I ever loved. I fixed you up with pigs — a quick snort and that was all … Oh, no. Don’t blame this thing on me.”
Stuart shrugged. “All right,” he said. “Get out.”
• • •
He dialed the number Joanne had given him so long ago. It seemed an eternity; it seemed the time he could reflect upon as the good old days. Joanne was with him, and things were simple and uncomplicated.
He listened to the phone ringing across the wires, ten, fifteen times. Finally the receiver was lifted. A weary voice said, “Hello?”
“Flo?”
“Oh, I’m sorry …” It was Flo, all right. But she wasn’t even going to talk to him any more.
He felt a sudden rush of
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