Sins of Omission (40 page)

“You're home now, safe and sound,” Sol said through clenched teeth. “Listen, as I've said before, studio business is not for your…pretty little head. Reuben Tarz is a very capable young man and he's proving to be invaluable. He's turning the studio around, and we're already making money and paying off debts. So don't start on him, Bebe, or me.”

Reuben could hear a wet smacking sound as Bebe gave her father a kiss. “I still think he's all wrong for this studio. You'll be sorry, Daddy, when he sticks an ax in your back.”

“He has a contract,” Sol said as if that were the beginning and the end of the discussion. Reuben bared his teeth in a snarl.

“You are just the darlingest father,” Bebe cooed. “You think everyone is wonderful. You even think Mickey is wonderful, don't you?”

“Of course,” Sol said curtly.

“Well, she isn't all
that
wonderful. She thinks you are a bumbling old fool who's incapable of running this studio.” Reuben heard the quick intake of breath as Bebe gasped. “I'm sorry, Daddy, I made that up. She didn't say that at all…. Look, let's get out of here. I'm taking you to dinner.”

Reuben listened as two pairs of footsteps went down the stairs, one heavy and one so light it was almost indistinguishable.

He was angry—angrier than he'd ever been. So angry he picked up a paperweight and pitched it across the room. He blinked at the size of the hole it made in the plaster wall. “Son of a bitch!”

If he wasn't careful, Bebe Rosen was going to continue to muck up his life. Already his mouth tasted foul. Her perfume was still in the air. He had to get out of here and get a breath of fresh air before his temper roared out of control.

The rain was coming down in torrents and a soft gray mist eddied about his feet as Reuben slogged his way to the Mimosa Club. He had to get hold of himself. He couldn't let Bebe Rosen get to him; he wasn't ready for her…yet.

He'd given up his thrice weekly run for Max and been replaced with a young woman in a tight blue dress and blond hair. Max said she did as good a job as he had. He'd never met the woman and had no desire to. These days he rarely came to the club, preferring to keep his working relationship with Max a private thing. Reuben sat down at the bar and ordered a cup of coffee and a hamburger. It was dim and smoky in the club and still too early for a crowd. Later the noise would bounce off the walls, but by then he'd be gone.

“You look like a drowned rat, Tarz,” Max growled.

“I feel like one. It's raining like hell out there.”

“You ever hear of an umbrella? I might have an extra one around here. You get wet feet you catch cold.”

“Ask me if I care, Max.”

“You also look like you lost your last friend,” Max said boldly.

Reuben turned on the bar stool to stare at him. “I have only one friend, and I did not lose him. I have things on my mind, that's all.”

“Don't we all. Must be a woman, then,” Max persisted. “Pal, if I was you, I'd learn how to play poker. Your face gives it away. Hey, bimbos are a dime a dozen. You want a dame, I'll get you a dame. Never hook yourself up with one in particular. First thing you know you start telling her your secrets, and it's all downhill after that. Dames are murder.” For once Reuben was tempted to agree with the gangster.

“Not much business tonight. Guess it's the weather.”

Max nodded. “We have a private party later, but Monday nights are usually a little on the quiet side. See that dame down at the end of the bar. She came in here about an hour ago and already she's sloshed. She's not one of my regulars. Just up and walked in. Now I have to worry about getting her home in one piece. She's no drinker, either. Two cups and she's bawlin' her eyes out. Sooner or later I get 'em all in here.”

Reuben bit into his sandwich and realized he wasn't hungry. He didn't want the coffee, either. He pushed his plate and cup away.

“I been reading the trade papers lately,” Max continued. “You're making a name for yourself, Tarz. I got this gut feeling you're gonna make it to the top.”

“I'm gonna try like hell. But the ball didn't start to roll till you came into the picture, Max. I owe you for that.”

Max beamed up at Reuben. “Go home, Tarz, and get out of those wet clothes and shoes. It's on the house,” he said, indicating the coffee and hamburger.

Reuben put on a halfhearted smile. “Thanks, Max. See you.”

“Anytime.”

Reuben walked the length of the bar, his eyes straight ahead, his thoughts everywhere but at the Mimosa Club. When the sound of a stifled sob caught his ear, he half turned to stare at the girl Max had mentioned. “Jane! What the hell are you doing here? If Sol Rosen knew you came here, your butt would be out on the street.”

“I just wandered in here. I was walking in the rain after I got off work. It seemed as good a place as any. What I do on my free time has nothing to do with my work…does it?” she asked, suddenly fearful.

“It has a hell of a lot to do with it. You're drunk. Why, Jane?”

“If it's a problem, I'll leave,” Jane mumbled. She slid off the stool and would have fallen if Reuben hadn't reached out to grab her arm. “Oooooh, I got a little dizzy there for a minute. I'm fine now. You can let go of my arm, Mr. Tarz.”

“If I let go of your arm, you'll do a nose dive. You really have a snootful. Where do you live?” Reuben demanded.

Jane waved her arm vaguely. “Out there.”

“Out there where?” Reuben grated.

Jane started to cry. She was like a rubber doll as she tried to maintain her balance. “Max!” Reuben shouted down the length of the bar.

“You know her?” Max asked, surprised, as he hurried over.

“She works at the studio. She's so sloshed, she's ready to pass out. I think we better let her sleep it off. You have some rooms upstairs, right?”

“It's not a hotel, but it's goddamn clean!” Max said defensively.

“Good. Let's get her upstairs and out of these wet clothes. Do you think any of your girls might have something that will fit her?”

“I'll check. Wait here.”

“Jane, what the hell are you doing here, and why are you drunk?” Reuben demanded sternly.

“It's Bobby. He said he doesn't want a movie star for a girlfriend. He doesn't like it that I make more money than he does. He dumped me. I told him I'd quit. I would, too, Mr. Tarz, but that was just an excuse, he was already going behind my back and seeing someone else. He lied to me, the no-good bum. He's a bum, a stinking bum. How could I love a bum, Mr. Tarz? My friends told me my best friend Stella has sex with him. That's who he was seeing behind my back. I want to be a virgin when I get married. Bobby never said anything about getting married. He's a bum, isn't he, Mr. Tarz?” She began to bawl again, her head in her arms.

“Yes, he is, Jane,” Reuben said softly. He found himself cradling Jane in his arms. Awkwardly he patted her damp curls.

Max watched the little byplay as he instructed one of the girls to check out a room. So Tarz was human after all. A dame would do it every time, he thought smugly as he walked back over to the bar. Later, if he ever found himself getting angry at Reuben, he'd remember he was human like the rest. It was always easier to handle a situation when you knew a man was capable of being vulnerable. At least that's what his mother told him. “Just a few minutes and you can take her up,” he told Reuben. “Good thing you were here, I don't know what I would have done with her.”

“You wouldn't have let her leave like this, would you? You just have to look at her to know she doesn't belong here. You would have taken her upstairs, wouldn't you, Max?”

Max looked embarrassed. “Yeah, sure….”

Reuben smiled.

They were at the end of the bar, their backs to the door, when it opened. Reuben's arm was around Jane as he helped her off the stool to follow Max up the stairway. He heard Bebe's musical trill of laughter and Sol's bellow. “You didn't tell me Sol Rosen was your private party, Max,” he hissed harshly.

Max turned on the step. “He isn't. It's Eli's party. For his sister. She just got back from Europe or somewhere. Tell you the truth, I didn't think the old man would show up.”

“I'll take the back way out,” Reuben snapped.

“Tarz, it's not my fault. Did I know you were going to stop in this evening? Business is business. You should understand that.”

Reuben sighed. “You're right, Max, sorry.”

At the top of the steps he turned Jane over to a buxom redhead named Delphine. “Take good care of her and see that she's at the studio for her call at seven. Max”—he turned to the little man and handed him a dollar—“send her in a cab, okay?”

“She'll be there. I don't know what shape she'll be in, but she'll be there,” Max promised.

Reuben left the Mimosa Club by the back stairway, feeling like a thief in the night. He stepped into three inches of water and cursed loudly as Max handed him a huge black umbrella. He accepted it and sloshed through kitchen garbage and debris in the alley. Three times he poked his head from under the umbrella to see if anyone was following him.

Bebe Rosen was back.

 

Bebe's eyes widened at the sight of Reuben; she could feel her heart fluttering. She wished he would turn around and see her, at which point she would wave gaily and smile. Who was the girl, and where were they going? Upstairs, obviously. To do God only knew what. For weeks now, ever since she'd made the decision to return home, she'd thirsted for the sight of him, and now that she'd seen him she felt terrible, out of sorts. She should be the one he had his arms around, not some nameless girl who appeared to be drunk. Maybe she was a prostitute. Reuben Tarz with a prostitute! Not likely, but then, she really couldn't figure Reuben. Mickey would certainly be surprised—or would she? Mickey was worldly and would probably take it in her stride. Men weren't meant to be monks, she'd say with a little laugh. Women, on the other hand, were meant to be virginal until their wedding night. Damn. She'd dreamed, schemed, and planned, looking forward to a surprise meeting with Reuben. He'd see how she'd grown up, how worldly she'd become, and now it was all spoiled. Later, somehow, in some way, she'd go upstairs and see what was going on. If she didn't, she'd imagine all kinds of terrible things. Catch him, her mind ordered, and tell the girl what he did to you. Let him see she hadn't forgotten. Damn you, Reuben Tarz.

“Bebe, you haven't heard a word I said,” Eli said. “Who are you staring at? We brought Dad here to show him a good time and already you're popping out.”

Bebe turned to face him, forcing her thoughts away from Reuben. “That's nonsense, Eli. I thought for a minute I saw someone I knew, but I was wrong. Remember now, I just arrived home today and I am a little tired.”

“We could have done this some other time, Bebe,” Sol fretted. “Getting drunk in some gangster's den of iniquity isn't my idea of a good time either.”

“Oh, Daddy, where else is there fun to go? Eli went to a lot of trouble to arrange this, so please don't spoil the evening. We've ordered all your favorite food, and there's going to be a show later. Be nice to Eli, Daddy. For me, just this once,” Bebe cajoled, batting her eyes at her father.

Sol's gaze was paternal and indulgent when he looked down at his beautiful daughter. “All right already. Tonight we'll call a truce.”

Eli's movements were awkward and jittery as he hopped around trying to find the best seat for his father at their reserved table. He would have cheerfully killed to have his father look at him just once the way he looked at Bebe. “Here, Pop, this is the best seat. You'll be able to see the show real good from here. Max has a couple of great acts. You might see someone the studio can use.”

Sol bristled. “What do you know about what the studio—”

“Daddeeeee!…”

Sol looked at Eli with disgust. “Maybe I'll…I'll keep my eyes open.”

“Now, that wasn't hard, was it, Daddy?” Bebe said, giving him a kiss. Sol didn't answer.

Bebe did her best to have a pleasant evening, but it was an effort to smile at Clovis and compliment her on her latest movie when she joined them at the table. She laughed at Lester Kramer's roguish antics, but the laughter never reached her eyes. Every ounce of untapped energy went into parrying compliments with Damian Farrell, who said over and over that she was the most beautiful creature on earth and worthy of being one of his leading ladies. Twice she tried to make her way to the upstairs section of the club, only to be turned away at the curtained entrance to the stairway and informed that the quarters above were private. It was midnight when she finally told Eli she wanted to go home.

Sol heaved a sigh of relief and flushed with pleasure when Clovis linked her arm through his and thanked him for a lovely evening. “Eli arranged it, don't thank me,” he said gruffly.

“By the way, Sol, where was Reuben this evening?” Lester Kramer asked. He turned to Bebe and smacked his hands together in delight. “That is one young man who just might turn your head, little girl.” Bebe smiled wanly.

“My sister's too smart to fall for a creep like Tarz,” Eli spat out. “Aren't you, Bebe?”

“Eli, stop acting like my big brother,” Bebe said, artfully avoiding his question. “Daddy, you didn't answer Lester.”

“This was Eli's party, I had nothing to do with the guest list,” Sol said, heading for the door.

“Tarz is a brilliant fellow,” Farrell said. “I rather like the chap. He's done all right by me, and I have no complaints.”

“I agree,” Kramer added. “How about you, Clovis, what do you think about Sol's new assistant?”

Clovis rolled her eyes and pretended to swoon. “If I was a little younger, I'd want his shoes under my bed. Wait till you meet him, Bebe, you'll fall for him the way every female on the lot has. Unfortunately, he has eyes for none of the beauties, and that includes me,” she said haughtily. “Ask your father what he thinks of him.”