The Caine Mutiny (75 page)

The words and the tone made Willie very sick. He stared at the saxophonist’s picture. He had rimless glasses, a flat thin stage smile, and a long nose. “He doesn’t look like much-”

“He’s a prime no-good. Married and divorced twice-I’ve been fighting it, but-she just gets sore at me-”

“Christ; May has more sense than that-”

“He caught her on the bounce, Willie. You threw her down pretty hard. He’s a fine musician, he has a lot of moola, and he’s as smart as Einstein about women. He’s a little god in his own crowd. May-well, she’s pretty innocent, Willie, for all her wise-guy line-”

“What’s the story? Are they engaged, or what?”

“The story-the story he tells her-is that his last divorce isn’t final yet. Maybe he really wants to marry her-I don’t know-we’re hardly talking any more-”

“It’s that bad?”

“Oh, she still pays me the ten percent. She doesn’t have to, we never had anything on paper. I know for a fact Feather advised her to stop paying. But she pays. Not that I ask her. We had a hell of a fight over your letter-sorry I got my nose in your affairs, Willie-but I said something about Feather being a draft dodger, and she wasn’t buying any cracks about Walter at that point-”

“I’ve got to talk to her, Marty.”

“Well, let’s take a look. They might be rehearsing.”

They walked to the Aztec Lounge and heard music through the closed doors painted with green-and-yellow feathered serpents. The band was playing
Anchors Aweigh
. “See, a special welcome for you,” Rubin said. “Come on in.” They slipped through the doors. The big garish room had a wide polished dance floor and a multitude of empty tables. Green paper palms screened the doorway. Through them Willie saw May on the orchestra platform, singing. He was terrifically startled. Her hair was bright blond.

“Let’s wait here awhile,” Rubin said. He leaned against the wall with his hands in his coat pockets, peering at the stage through his thick greenish glasses. “How do you think she looks?”

“Fierce.”

“Feather likes his vocalists blond.”

The music slowed and died in the middle of the number. The leader was rapping with his stick. “Honey, what’s so tough about that phrase?” he shouted. “Let’s take it again from C-”

With an impatient sweep of her head May said, “Walter, I hate this damned song. Why do we have to do it? Such corn-”

“Look, baby, when that parade breaks the place will be jumping with Navy. We’ll be doing it all night-”

“Well, you do the vocal. I can’t stand it-”

“What parade?” Willie whispered.

The agent grinned. “How unconscious can you get? Don’t you know today’s Navy Day?”

The band struck up again. May sang a few bars and stopped, looking at Feather obstinately. He shrugged and waved the band silent. “Like some coffee, Marie?”

“Anything.”

“Break for a half hour,” Feather said to the musicians. They scraped their chairs and walked off the platform, chattering. May threw a camel’s-hair coat around her shoulders. She and Feather came toward the door, walking side by side in an automatic closeness that jarred Willie’s nerves. He stepped out from behind the palms, acutely conscious of his gold-buttoned bridge coat and white scarf and tarnished hat.

“Hello, May.”

The girl staggered back a step, putting her hand on Feather’s arm. Her mouth fell open. She stammered, “Good God, Willie. Did you want me to drop dead? How-how long have you been here?”

“Just came. Didn’t want to interrupt-”

“I-Walter, this is Willie Keith-Captain Keith, or Lieutenant Keith-I don’t know, which is it? Are you still captain of that minesweeper?”

“I decommissioned her this morning-”

Feather held out his hand. “Glad to meet you, Willie. Marie’s told me about you-” They shook hands. Feather was not bad-looking; the lobby picture was unfortunate. He had a pleasant, keen expression. The eyes were wrinkled and shadowed, and the plentiful brown hair had streaks of gray. His grip was firm and his voice strong, good-natured, and attractive.

“Hello, Marty,” May said coldly.

“Well, how about you two guys joining us?” the bandleader said. “We’re just going to grab a bite-”

“I’d like to talk to you, May,” Willie said.

“Well, fine, let’s all drop into the grill,” Feather said. “I’d like to talk to you, May,” Willie repeated dully.

The girl glanced timidly at Feather. She had a trapped look. “Whatever you want, Marie,” the musician said carelessly. “There isn’t a hell of a lot of time-”

She caressed the bandleader’s hand. “I won’t be long, Walter. You go ahead.”

Feather raised one eyebrow. He nodded, and smiled at Willie. “All dressed up for the parade, Lieutenant?”

“I’m not parading.”

“Oh. Too bad. Well, come around tonight. Bring a friend. As my guests.”

“Thank you.”

“Come on, Marty,” said the bandleader. “Have coffee with me.”

May and Willie were alone in the vast dance room painted with Aztec designs. The rows of empty tables and chairs were bleak and mournful. Willie said, “Why the hell did you dye your hair?” His voice made a thin, hollow echo in the room.

“Do you like it?” They were confronting each other not two feet apart, like prize fighters.

“No. I think it’s cheap and hard.”

“Thank you, honey. Every night-club columnist in town has complimented me on the improvement.”

“Night-club columnists are maggots.”

“You’ve come back in a sweet mood.”

“Do you want something to eat?”

“It doesn’t matter. You said you want to talk to me. This is as good a place as any if you want privacy.”

They went to the nearest table and sat. Willie threw open his coat and pulled his scarf off. May clutched her coat around her. He thought she was shivering. She said, “You look all different.”

“Why didn’t you answer my letter?”

“What did Marty tell you?”

“Never mind Marty.”

“You always hated him. You never believed what a friend he was to you. God knows why he likes you-”

“Didn’t you think I was entitled to an answer? Just one line saying no thanks, I’ve got me a bandleader and I’m a blonde?”

“I don’t have to listen to you get nasty. Just remember, my friend, you kicked me into the gutter. If somebody picked me up what do you care?”

“May, everything I said in the letter still goes.” He wanted to add “I love you,” but he couldn’t. There were too many grinning Aztec masks all around.

The girl’s look softened. “It was a wonderful letter, Willie. I cried over it. I still have it. But you wrote it four months too late.”

“Why? Are you engaged, or married? What’s happened?”

May looked away.

A twist of pain crossed Willie’s face. He said flatly, “Are you his mistress?”

“That’s a corny word. Mistresses went out with Dickens, dear.”

“Are you, May?”

She faced him. Her face was so white that her make-up looked garish. “Well, what the devil do you think? What do grown people do when they’re together night and day like me and Walter-play marbles? Everybody knows about us. You and your goddamn stuffy, stupid questions.” Tears stood in her eyes.

Willie could hardly talk. His throat was closed up. “I-all right, all right, May.”

“So I guess that takes care of everything, doesn’t it?”

“Not necessarily-I just-” He leaned his head on a fist. “Give me ten seconds to get used to it-”

“Is that all it’ll take?” she said bitterly. “You’re broadminded.”

Willie looked at her and nodded. “Okay, it’s absorbed. Will you marry me?”

“Now you’re being noble. Nobility is your long suit. You’ll think better of it in the morning and back out gracefully-”

“May listen, I love you, and I always will. Every name you call me I deserve. Everything that’s happened is my fault. We might have had a perfect love, the springtime thing that’s in all the books. I wrecked that. But you and I belong to each other, I know that.” He took her hand. “If you love me, May, marry me.”

May didn’t take her hand away. He thought he felt a little pressure. The blond hair troubled him very much. He tried not to see it. “What changed you, Willie? You’re different, really you are.”

“I almost died, and I realized that all I regretted was you.” He knew it was a good speech, but to himself he was wondering whether he really wanted her after all. But the momentum of his emotions was impossible to arrest. May was inside this creature somewhere and he was going to have May.

She said wearily, “Willie, what do you want me to do? Come to a college with you on the GI bill and make chops on an electric grill for you and wash diapers and talk about books? I’m making two-fifty a week steady.”

He leaned to her and kissed her. Her lips smiled under the kiss. He jumped to his feet, pulled her up, and kissed her passionately, and this time she responded in the old way. She leaned back in his arms, and said huskily, “Amazing. That still works.”

“Then that’s all-”

“Not by a long shot. Sit down, beautiful sailor.” She pushed him into his chair and sat, and put her hand over her eyes. “However, it makes for confusion, a little bit, I’ll say that. Surprises me-”

“Do you love this Feather?”

“If you call love what we had, those things don’t happen again. And thank God for that, I say.”

“He’s old.”

“You’re young. In many ways that’s worse.”

“You can’t kiss two people the way you just kissed me. You’re not in love with him.”

“Sex takes up a very small part of the day, anyway.”

“It makes the rest of the day worth living.”

“You could always talk fast. Be honest, Willie, what’s the point of coming back out of nowhere like this? It’s all dirty and broken and finished. It was wonderful but you ruined it.

“It isn’t all sex. Our minds run the same way. We’re talking just as we always did. Even these painful things we’re saying are alive and worth hearing and exciting, because we’re saying them to each other-”

“I’ve gotten so I like money.”

“Then I’ll give you money.”

“Your mother’s.”

“No, I’ll go into business if you really want it. I can make a go of whatever I put my hand to-”

“I thought you wanted to teach.”

“I do, and I think you’re talking through your hat about money. You’re stalling.”

May looked bewildered and desperate. “Don’t you know what a horrible beating I took from you? I thought our love was good and dead. I was glad of it-”

“It’s not dead. It’s our life, still-”

She scrutinized his face coldly. “Okay, since you’re being so noble I feel like telling you something. I don’t care if you believe it and I don’t intend it to change anything. Just so’s you know there are two noble people in this deal. I haven’t slept with Walter. So there’s no question of rescuing the poor lost waif.” She grinned sarcastically at his stunned look. “Too much for you to swallow, no doubt. I told you, I don’t care-”

“Christ, May, of course I believe you-”

“Not that he didn’t try, God knows, or doesn’t keep trying in his nice way. But there’s a catch. He really wants to marry me. And he’s not a grabbing college boy. Seems he isn’t divorced yet. And I have this coarse Catholic prejudice against getting into bed with a married man. Nobody else would believe this, no reason why you should-”

“May, can I see you tonight after the show?”

“No, Walter’s having a party-”

“Tomorrow morning?”

“Good God,
morning
!”

“Afternoon?”

“You’re still thinking in Navy terms. What can civilized people do in the afternoon?”

“Make love.”

She suddenly laughed aloud, richly and deeply. “You fool. I said civilized people, not Frenchmen.” She looked at him with a flash of the gaiety that had been their way together. “You know, you’re still Willie, after all. You looked so damn forbidding there for a while-”

“It was the hair, May. It threw me completely. You had the most beautiful hair in the world-”

“I know you liked it. It was Walter’s idea. He’s cold-blooded about it. He’s taken surveys and everything. The dopes like their singers blond, that’s all.” She put her hands to her hair. “Is it really so awful? Do I look like a tramp or something?”

“Sweetheart, my love, stay blond the rest of your life. I don’t even know what you look like. I love you.”

“Willie, how did you almost get killed? What happened?”

He told her the story of the Kamikaze, watching her eyes. The look in them was familiar. He thought May was glancing out through the windows of the singer. She was still there. “And-and then you wrote that letter?”

“Same night.”

“Didn’t you want to take it all back in the morning?”

“Here I am, May. I even tried to phone you from Pearl Harbor-”