Get a Load of This (18 page)

     
     Jason arrived at the Gaucho Club a few minutes before midnight. He stood hesitating on the sidewalk looking up at the brilliant array of neon lights that flashed and flickered on the outside of the building.
     The taxi-driver who brought him leant out of his cab and stared too. “Quite a joint, ain't it?” he said. “Plenty of class. I bet you have to pay to breathe in a dump like that.” Jason groped in his pocket and found some small change. He paid the taxi-driver. Then, because he was in two minds about going into the club, he said, “I don't know why I came here, do you?”
     The driver shook his head. “Now you're talking sense,” he said. “Most folk just go in there. They don't ask themselves why. Personally, I wouldn't be seen dead in a joint like that.”
     Jason put his foot on the running-board. “Maybe you've got somewhere else to go,” he said. “Maybe you're married or something.”
     The driver nodded. “Yeah, I'm married all right. I don't see what that's got to do with it.”
     “Oh, it has. It makes all the difference. You see, I've got no one at the moment. I only got into New York a few hours ago. I've got a room about ten floors up, which seems to me completely isolated from any earthly contacts. I was told that the Gaucho Club was the place to find company, but I'm not at all sure that it looks quite what I want.”
     The driver regarded him thoughtfully. “It depends on what you want, boss,” he said. “If you're looking for someone to sleep with, I should say that you've come to the right spot.”
     Jason shook his head. “I hadn't that in mind at all,” he said, “although the suggestion is worth considering. I'll go in, anyway. If I don't like it, I can always come out again, can't I?”
     The driver engaged his gears. “It's your evening,” he said, and set his cab in motion.
     Inside the club, Jason found the lights were soft, coloured and concealed, and the carpets very thick and springy to the feet. A number of impressively dressed flunkeys stood about doing nothing in particular, obviously too magnificent to be approached. They merely directed him towards a very crowded lounge simply by indicating the direction with their eyes. Feeling extraordinarily unimportant, and wishing that he had someone to share this initial ordeal with him, he went into the lounge and looked around for the cloakroom.
     The lounge, however, was much more human than the entrance. A girl, wearing an extremely short white frock, a pale blue frilly little apron affair, and a large blue bow in her hair, suddenly appeared from nowhere and took his hat. She gave him a check and then, seeing he was unusually good-looking, added quite a nice smile.
     Jason said hurriedly: “Wait a moment. Don't run away. Whatever you do, don't put that hat where I can't get it quickly. I may not stay. My nerves are fluttering right now. I suppose you're used to this—this magnificence? You would be. Yeah, no doubt I could get use to it. But right now I'm shaken. Those guys down front certainly made me nervous. I don't think it is a smart idea having those guys. I guess they turn away a lot of business.”
     The girl looked at him closely, rejected the idea that he was drunk, and decided that he was just a little soft. “You don't have to worry about them,” she said. “Most of our clients come here tight and they never notice them.”
     Jason considered that. “To hell with that for an idea,” he said finally. “However, now I'm here, what do you advise?”
     “If I were you,” she said seriously, “I would go to the bar and buy myself a lot of drink. Then I should go into the restaurant, get a table close to the band, buy myself a small but carefully selected supper and enjoy myself.”
     Jason fingered his white tie. “You think it is necessary to break down my repressions with drink, do you?”
     She giggled. “I think it will help an awful lot.”
     “Very well, I'll do exactly as you suggest. I'll let you know how I get on. Thank you very much.” Jason smiled at her and walked into the bar.
     Here again everything was remarkably tasteful and luxurious. The bar was very long and somewhat crowded. Jason climbed on to a high stool, carefully spread his dress tails, and sat down.
     Next to him was a tall man, going grey at the temples, who was talking in a completely inaudible voice to a very young egg-yolk blonde, who appeared to be wearing nothing at all under an extremely tight-fitting bottle-green gown. The gown, in itself, was modest and smart. It was modest because it was high at the throat, long in the sleeve and reached to the floor in a very graceful sweep.
     The tall man prevented Jason from seeing as much of the girl as he wished. By leaning forward, Jason could see her head and a little of her figure; by leaning back, he could just see her neat little behind, perched on the stool. He wished the tall man would go away.
     The barman raised his eyebrows and Jason ordered Scotch-and-ginger. “Make it a triple Scotch,” he said, “it will save time.”
     The barman looked at him sharply and then turned to his bottles.
     The tall man stopped whispering to the egg-yolk blonde and glanced at Jason curiously.
     Jason smiled at him. “Do you favour Listerine for infectious dandruff?” he asked pleasantly.
     The tall man started. “Dandruff?” he repeated, rather stupidly.
     “Sure, dandruff. I understand that the bottle-shaped bacillus known as Pityrosporum Ovale is now considered by leading authorities as the real trouble-maker.” Jason leant forward and removed an invisible hair from the tall man's coat. “Maybe the subject doesn't interest you. If that is the case, think no more about it.”
     The tall man seemed quite dazed. He said, uneasily, “Please excuse me.” Then he whispered to the egg-yolk blonde, who leant forward and gave Jason a searching look.
     Jason smiled at her. “How do you do?” he said. “They tell me that race-horses are to wear straw hats this summer. Absurd, I think, don't you?”
     The tall man and the egg-yolk blonde left the bar. Jason watched them go rather sadly. He said to the barman: “I don't think I made a big hit with those two, do you?”
     The barman put a large glass down before him and splashed in the ginger ale. “It ain't true about the straw hats, is it, mister?” he asked.
     Jason shook his head. “I don't think so. I thought the little girl might find that amusing.” He lifted the glass and swallowed the Scotch. He then handed the empty glass to the barman. “Fill it up,” he said. “I shall continue this performance until I feel I have enough to see me through what appears, at present, to be an exceedingly sticky evening.”
     The barman put the bottle at Jason's elbow. “Suppose you help yourself?” he said.
     Jason thanked him. “Would it be against the rules if you joined me?” he asked.
     The barman shook his head. “I gave up drinking three years ago,” he said.
     “How extraordinary. You must tell me about it one of these days.” Jason filled his glass. “Before you go away I should like your opinion.” He leant forward. “The blonde that went out just now. Did she seem to you a trifle undressed under her gown?”
     The barman's eyebrows lifted. “I really didn't notice, sir,” he said stiffly.
     Jason nodded understandingly. “I suppose you gave that up also, three years ago,” he said. “It is really quite astonishing to meet such an iron will. I must congratulate you.”
     The barman said, “You'll excuse me, sir,” and went away down to the far end of the bar.
     After several more drinks Jason felt it was time to go into the restaurant. He climbed off the stool, paid his check and went through a glass door into another large room where suppers were being served. A small dance-band played in the far corner of the room, and several couples were dancing on a pocket-handkerchief-size floor.
     The head waiter took him to a table set for two near the band. He sat down. “This is my first visit here,” he confided to the waiter. “Is it possible for a lady to join me? Do you do that sort of thing here?”
     The waiter said rather stiffly, “I'm afraid not, sir.”
     Jason sighed. “I just asked. Some places do, you know.”
     The waiter dismissed the subject with a flick of his napkin. “What would you like?”
     Jason ordered supper without enthusiasm. He felt the evening was going to be a complete flop.
     While he waited for his first course he looked round the room with a speculative eye. There were a number of smartly dressed women who appealed to him, but in every case they were all attached to large parties. He noticed that at the table next to him a girl sat with her back to him, and opposite her was a young man who looked as though he were permanently drunk. He was talking to the girl in penetrating tones. Jason listened with interest.
     The young man said: “I know you want to. You're just being superior. For God's sake, don't sit there looking like a graven image.”
     Jason couldn't hear what she said, but the back of her head interested him. She had very beautiful, soft brown hair.
     When the band stopped playing, the young man went over to them and had a long conversation with the pianist. The pianist shook his head and then whispered to the other three players. They all looked across at the girl and whispered some more. Then the pianist stood up and the young man went back to his table.
     Jason was quite interested. He saw the girl take four rings off her fingers and give them to the young man, then she got up and went over to the band.
     Jason thought, “Social butterfly inflicts talent on the joy-weary,” and prepared to be critical.
     She sat down at the piano and the rest of the band stood up and grouped themselves round her. Jason could just see her tiny hands on the keyboard.
     The trombone player turned his head and called to the young man: “Miss Gellert would like a drink first.”
     The young man got rather unsteadily out of his chair and brought over a glass of champagne. “Do get on with it,” he begged; “people will think you're showing off.”
     The glass of champagne disappeared behind the group of musicians, and a moment later reappeared on top of the piano, empty.
     Then, with her two tiny hands, she hit four chords all in the bass. Jason sat up in his chair, and people stopped talking.
     She played for exactly five minutes, then she got up and went back to her table. People clapped very loudly and shouted, but she wouldn't play again. Jason was so impressed that he said to the young man: “That was simply terrific. Pass on my congratulations.”
     The girl turned and looked at him. Jason thought how like Hepburn she was. She said, “Thank you, very much.”
     The young man scowled at Jason and broke in: “Will you get your things? We ought to be moving.”
     She got up and went away to the ladies' cloakroom.
     Jason said to the young man, “Do you know her very well?”
     “A lot better than you are likely to know her,” the young man said angrily. “Will you keep your snout out of my affairs? She's my girl and I'm a very tough guy.”
     Jason smiled. “I don't think so. You just smell strong.”
     The young man got unsteadily to his feet.
     Jason said hurriedly: “Not here. Let's go to the toilet.”
     “O.K., I only just wanted to show you that I can take you and think nothing of it.”
     Jason settled his check. The waiter glanced at the uneaten meal, but didn't say anything. He seemed quite pleased with the tip Jason gave him.
     “Come along,” Jason said to the young man, “let us see who is the better man.” He had to support the young man, who seemed to have considerable difficulty with his legs.
     The toilet was empty, and Jason had no difficulty in overpowering the young man. He tied his hands and feet together with towels and put him in one of the closets. The young man wept with humiliation, but Jason really couldn't be bothered to console him.
     He hurried back to the restaurant, but he couldn't see the girl anywhere. However, after what seemed to him to be hours of suspense, he caught sight of her waiting in the lounge.
     He went over to the cloakroom and gave up his hat check. The girl found his hat and asked him how he was getting on.
     Jason gave her five dollars. “You were absolutely right,” he told her, “everything is building up beautifully.”
     He went over to Miss Gellert. “I've just left your escort in a room of meditation,” he said. “He asked me to look after the rest of the evening with you.”
     She didn't seem very surprised. “Did he?” she said.
     “My name is Howard Jason,” he went on. “I have a lot of money and this is my first night in New York. What shall we do?”
     She thought for a moment. “Have you really got a lot of money?” she said at last.
     Jason assured her gravely that he had.
     “Have you plenty on you right at this moment?”
     “At a rough guess I have about a couple of thousand bucks, all in very nice new notes.”
     She sighed. “It must be nice to have as much as that.”
     “Can't we get off money?” Jason asked. “Why the interest in money? Don't you think it is a trifle sordid talking about money as we are?”
     She said: “Oh no, because where we are going you have to have lots of money or else they get very fierce and throw you into the street.”
     Jason smiled. “Now that sounds exciting. Let's go.”
     In the taxi he said: “You play the piano awfully well. What else do you do?”
     She looked out of the window at the bright lights as they flashed past. “Oh, things, you know. I don't do anything so well as the piano. I'm lucky there, I suppose.”
     “I wouldn't say that. You must have worked hard at the piano to be able to play like that.” He twisted round in his seat so that he could look at her properly. “I think I'm going to like you quite a lot,” he said.
     She leant her head back against the side of the cab. “I suppose you're now laying the foundation?” she said.
     Jason considered that. “Isn't that frightfully cynical and elderly?” he asked.
     “I don't think so. You see, I often go for rides in taxis with men I don't know very well. It interests me to see the first initial moves.”
     Jason felt in his pocket for his cigarette-case. “Strictly, from your angle, it must be interesting,” he said, offering her his case. “Do you go to bed with any of them?”
     She took a cigarette and leant forward as he thumbed his lighter. “No,” she said, “it's ethically wrong, I think.”
     Jason filled his lungs with cigarette smoke. After a moment he said, “I see.”