Listen, why not pop in tomorrow . . . say about three-ish. I’ll dream up some kind of story and well take some good pictures.”
“I’d love to see you, Linda, but I don’t know about a story.”
“Well talk about it tomorrow. You know where the Mosler building is, don’t you? Fifty-second, near Madison. We have the entire top three floors. Come to the executive penthouse. See you then. Ciao.”
January ran the bath and got into the tub and closed her eyes. She hadn’t realized how tired she was. She thought about Linda—so ugly, so eager, so energetic . . . And now she was . . . well, she sounded important. January felt so tired. She knew she was falling asleep. It seemed just seconds later when she heard Sadie whisper, “Miss January, wake up.”
She sat up. The water was tepid. Good Lord, it was six o’clock!
“Miss Deirdre says it’s time for you to dress for dinner,” Sadie explained. “I pressed your dress. It’s hanging in the bedroom closet.”
She was dressed when Dee knocked on her door and swept into the bedroom. For a moment they both stared at one another. Then, self-consciously, January held out her hand. “Congratulations. I’m afraid I forgot to say that last night.”
Dee pressed her cheek against January’s cheek. “I don’t think either of us said too much last night. It wasn’t exactly the best way to become acquainted.”
“I—oh, good Lord . . .”
“What’s wrong?” Dee asked.
“I forgot to buy a robe!”
Dee laughed. “Keep Mike’s. It looked marvelous on you. Some women look fabulous in men’s robes. I’m not one of them.”
January decided Dee was more attractive than she had originally thought. Tonight she wore the frosted hair in a Gibson-girl style. And January knew the globs of diamonds on Dee’s ears were real. She looked very feminine in black silk harem pants, and January suddenly wondered if the patchwork skirt was right.
Dee stood back and appraised her. “I like it . . . but I think we need a bit of jewelry.” She buzzed Sadie who appeared instantly. “Get my box of gold jewelry, Sadie.”
Sadie returned with a huge leather jewel case, and Dee began draping gold chains around January’s neck. She insisted January wear gold hoop earrings. (“Darling, with your tan it’s perfect . . . gives you a gypsy effect.”)
January felt weighted down with four chains, a jade figa, and a lion’s tooth set in gold. (Dee explained she had shot the lion herself on a safari).
“I like your makeup,” Dee said as she came up close. “They’re your own lashes. Fan tas tic! I love that no-lipstick look you young girls affect. And your hair . . . well, it’s marvelous. Today you young things have it made, wearing it just long and straight. When I was your age, I was all clipped and permanented for the bloody Italian cut. That was the rage in the early fifties. I always told Gina I could kill her for starting that style. I have straight hair, and it seems to me I’ve spent half my life in rollers under driers. And now that long straight hair is in . . . well, one really can’t wear it hanging down to her shoulders after thirty-five. At least I don’t think one should. . . although God knows Karla hasn’t changed her hair style since she was eighteen.”
“What is she like?”
Dee shrugged. “Karla is one of my oldest and dearest friends . . . although God knows why I put up with her eccentricities.”
“At Miss Haddon’s,” January said, “we all watched her movies on television. To me she is even greater than Garbo or Dietrich because she moves like a dancer. Imagine having the guts to retire at forty-two and stay retired.”
Dee reached over and lit a cigarette. “She never cared about acting. She always said that as soon as she made enough money she would quit. And she’s got the first dime she ever made!”
“Where is she now?” January asked.
“I believe she’s back in town. She’ll get around to calling soon. She keeps an
“I’d love to see you, Linda, but I don’t know about a story.”
“Well talk about it tomorrow. You know where the Mosler building is, don’t you? Fifty-second, near Madison. We have the entire top three floors. Come to the executive penthouse. See you then. Ciao.”
January ran the bath and got into the tub and closed her eyes. She hadn’t realized how tired she was. She thought about Linda—so ugly, so eager, so energetic . . . And now she was . . . well, she sounded important. January felt so tired. She knew she was falling asleep. It seemed just seconds later when she heard Sadie whisper, “Miss January, wake up.”
She sat up. The water was tepid. Good Lord, it was six o’clock!
“Miss Deirdre says it’s time for you to dress for dinner,” Sadie explained. “I pressed your dress. It’s hanging in the bedroom closet.”
She was dressed when Dee knocked on her door and swept into the bedroom. For a moment they both stared at one another. Then, self-consciously, January held out her hand. “Congratulations. I’m afraid I forgot to say that last night.”
Dee pressed her cheek against January’s cheek. “I don’t think either of us said too much last night. It wasn’t exactly the best way to become acquainted.”
“I—oh, good Lord . . .”
“What’s wrong?” Dee asked.
“I forgot to buy a robe!”
Dee laughed. “Keep Mike’s. It looked marvelous on you. Some women look fabulous in men’s robes. I’m not one of them.”
January decided Dee was more attractive than she had originally thought. Tonight she wore the frosted hair in a Gibson-girl style. And January knew the globs of diamonds on Dee’s ears were real. She looked very feminine in black silk harem pants, and January suddenly wondered if the patchwork skirt was right.
Dee stood back and appraised her. “I like it . . . but I think we need a bit of jewelry.” She buzzed Sadie who appeared instantly. “Get my box of gold jewelry, Sadie.”
Sadie returned with a huge leather jewel case, and Dee began draping gold chains around January’s neck. She insisted January wear gold hoop earrings. (“Darling, with your tan it’s perfect . . . gives you a gypsy effect.”)
January felt weighted down with four chains, a jade figa, and a lion’s tooth set in gold. (Dee explained she had shot the lion herself on a safari).
“I like your makeup,” Dee said as she came up close. “They’re your own lashes. Fan tas tic! I love that no-lipstick look you young girls affect. And your hair . . . well, it’s marvelous. Today you young things have it made, wearing it just long and straight. When I was your age, I was all clipped and permanented for the bloody Italian cut. That was the rage in the early fifties. I always told Gina I could kill her for starting that style. I have straight hair, and it seems to me I’ve spent half my life in rollers under driers. And now that long straight hair is in . . . well, one really can’t wear it hanging down to her shoulders after thirty-five. At least I don’t think one should. . . although God knows Karla hasn’t changed her hair style since she was eighteen.”
“What is she like?”
Dee shrugged. “Karla is one of my oldest and dearest friends . . . although God knows why I put up with her eccentricities.”
“At Miss Haddon’s,” January said, “we all watched her movies on television. To me she is even greater than Garbo or Dietrich because she moves like a dancer. Imagine having the guts to retire at forty-two and stay retired.”
Dee reached over and lit a cigarette. “She never cared about acting. She always said that as soon as she made enough money she would quit. And she’s got the first dime she ever made!”
“Where is she now?” January asked.
“I believe she’s back in town. She’ll get around to calling soon. She keeps an
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