his flattery. “My assistant, Anne, helped with the decor. She’s studying interior decorating and the store give her a discount.”
“Are you still at the same job?”
“I’m still with the Institute.” Then, her voice filling with pride, “But I’m a big girl now, I’m an assistant director.” There was vindictiveness in it too, and he wondered vaguely what had happened to her.
“Do you ever see Maud?”
“I saw her during the Christmas season at a party at Ed Jones’s. She tried to ignore me at first but when she saw how nice Ed and everyone else were to me she came over and started gushing, trying to make as if she hadn’t seen me. She’d heard I had something to do with sending the personnel to India and she wants to use me again. I was cold as ice….”
“How is Ed?” he asked politely. “Not that I give a goddamn,” he thought. Ed Jones was a very successful black artist who ran a private art school.
“Fine. I love Julia, she’s so sweet and real.”
“She’s a nice girl,” he said, although he’d never met her, but he felt it necessary to be agreeable.
“I was frightened to death when I walked into that party,” Kriss confessed. “It was the first time in years I’d been to a party full of blacks and I didn’t know what sort of stories Maud had put out about me. But Ed was very nice and I knew most of the people there. Then Dinky Bloom said, ‘Oh, Kriss is one of us anyway. She’s been around niggers so long she’s rubbed off enough black to be half nigger herself.’” She smiled her secret sensuous smile, thinking of the implications of the statement.
He was thinking the same thing, half-amused, but didn’t pursue it. “What happened between you and Maud? I haven’t seen them since we had that falling out.”
“God, that woman hurt me!” the hurt coming through in her voice. “I lived with them when I first came to New York.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I practically paid their rent and liquor bill. I had that little sitting-room where you stayed, and when they entertained—which was practically every night, serving my liquor—I couldn’t go to bed until all the guests left, although Joe would go into his room and go to bed and leave his company sitting up. And I had to get up before any of them. Then when I broke off with Ted, Maud practically threw me out. And we’d been just like sisters for years.”
“I know,” he said, thinking, “Lovers, baby, not sisters. Maud never liked anybody she couldn’t sleep with—man or woman—I know the bitch.” After a moment he asked, “Why should she care? It was none of her business, was it?”
“Oh, she wanted me to marry Ted so she could sleep with him when Joe and I were at work.”
He picked up his empty glass and when she went to the kitchen to make fresh drinks, he followed her, wondering whether he should kiss her then or wait. She didn’t appear to be in a kissing mood so he said, “This is a nice kitchen, everything’s arranged so well.” And when they went back to the sitting room he said, “I really like your place.” This time she didn’t respond and he looked at her thinking, “The hell of it is, son, you don’t remember a damn thing about that weekend; you were blotto all the time and afterwards never remembered a thing past the moment when you first kissed her.”
But aloud he asked, “What happened to you and Ted? The last time—in fact the only time—I ever saw you two together was at a party in Brooklyn. I think that was the only time I ever saw Ted—the only time I remember. He was a good-looking boy though, as I remember.”
“He was good in bed, too,” she said, smiling reminiscently, and he felt suddenly inadequate.
“Well,” he said, “What more do you want?”
“I practically supported the son of a bitch,” she said with sudden venom. “He was always running after cheap white people, thinking they were going to make him rich. He thought I didn’t know anything
“Are you still at the same job?”
“I’m still with the Institute.” Then, her voice filling with pride, “But I’m a big girl now, I’m an assistant director.” There was vindictiveness in it too, and he wondered vaguely what had happened to her.
“Do you ever see Maud?”
“I saw her during the Christmas season at a party at Ed Jones’s. She tried to ignore me at first but when she saw how nice Ed and everyone else were to me she came over and started gushing, trying to make as if she hadn’t seen me. She’d heard I had something to do with sending the personnel to India and she wants to use me again. I was cold as ice….”
“How is Ed?” he asked politely. “Not that I give a goddamn,” he thought. Ed Jones was a very successful black artist who ran a private art school.
“Fine. I love Julia, she’s so sweet and real.”
“She’s a nice girl,” he said, although he’d never met her, but he felt it necessary to be agreeable.
“I was frightened to death when I walked into that party,” Kriss confessed. “It was the first time in years I’d been to a party full of blacks and I didn’t know what sort of stories Maud had put out about me. But Ed was very nice and I knew most of the people there. Then Dinky Bloom said, ‘Oh, Kriss is one of us anyway. She’s been around niggers so long she’s rubbed off enough black to be half nigger herself.’” She smiled her secret sensuous smile, thinking of the implications of the statement.
He was thinking the same thing, half-amused, but didn’t pursue it. “What happened between you and Maud? I haven’t seen them since we had that falling out.”
“God, that woman hurt me!” the hurt coming through in her voice. “I lived with them when I first came to New York.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I practically paid their rent and liquor bill. I had that little sitting-room where you stayed, and when they entertained—which was practically every night, serving my liquor—I couldn’t go to bed until all the guests left, although Joe would go into his room and go to bed and leave his company sitting up. And I had to get up before any of them. Then when I broke off with Ted, Maud practically threw me out. And we’d been just like sisters for years.”
“I know,” he said, thinking, “Lovers, baby, not sisters. Maud never liked anybody she couldn’t sleep with—man or woman—I know the bitch.” After a moment he asked, “Why should she care? It was none of her business, was it?”
“Oh, she wanted me to marry Ted so she could sleep with him when Joe and I were at work.”
He picked up his empty glass and when she went to the kitchen to make fresh drinks, he followed her, wondering whether he should kiss her then or wait. She didn’t appear to be in a kissing mood so he said, “This is a nice kitchen, everything’s arranged so well.” And when they went back to the sitting room he said, “I really like your place.” This time she didn’t respond and he looked at her thinking, “The hell of it is, son, you don’t remember a damn thing about that weekend; you were blotto all the time and afterwards never remembered a thing past the moment when you first kissed her.”
But aloud he asked, “What happened to you and Ted? The last time—in fact the only time—I ever saw you two together was at a party in Brooklyn. I think that was the only time I ever saw Ted—the only time I remember. He was a good-looking boy though, as I remember.”
“He was good in bed, too,” she said, smiling reminiscently, and he felt suddenly inadequate.
“Well,” he said, “What more do you want?”
“I practically supported the son of a bitch,” she said with sudden venom. “He was always running after cheap white people, thinking they were going to make him rich. He thought I didn’t know anything
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