The Siren's Tale (36 page)

Cassandra
laughed and hooked her arm onto his. “In that case, I say let’s go to the soda fountain and meet your friends. I am absolutely dying for a chocolate malted.”

On the way down Market Street in the cab,
the young man noticed Miss Carson had a pensive look.  

“
Penny for your thoughts,” he ventured to say.

“
Often when driving down Market Street, I think about a travelogue I have seen many times, showing this area before the earthquake. San Francisco took a terrible blow, but it rebounded in grand style. I am never more proud of my fellow citizens than when I’m watching it.”

“
Where were you during the earthquake, ma’am?”

“
I? Fortunately for me, I was in Los Angeles shooting a picture,” she said. 

“
Did you lose anyone?”

There was a
pause. “Yes,” she said finally. “I lost my sainted husband.”

“
I am sorry. That’s a terrible loss.”

“
More so for the world. He was a great man.”

“
Must have been, to have the privilege of marrying you, Miss Carson. He was certainly the luckiest man alive, until he died, that is.”  

She gave his hand a pat.
“Here we are at the pier, Mark. Is that your soda fountain?” 

“
It is,” he said, then exclaimed, “Them’s the fellas over there!”

“
Lovely. Now Mark,” Cassandra said, looking so intently into his eyes that he feared he might drown in hers, “please don’t contradict anything I say, no matter what nonsense I come up with. You are to leave everything to me. Will you do that, soldier?”

“
Oh yes, ma’am. I will keep my big clap shut. You can count on me.”

“
Good boy. Curtain’s up. We’re on.”

He vaulted from the cab, then handed her out as gently as though she were made of porcelain.

“Give me your arm, Mark. That is fine. Now hold up your chin and smile.”   

They made their entrance into Jim’s, the beautiful actress on the arm of the soldier
, who was grinning from ear to ear. Soon the soldier's buddies were scrambling closer and crowding around, gawking and golly-geeing to beat the band. As he made introductions, the Wyoming native had never felt so proud and happy in his life—perhaps with the sole exception of the day he had helped his beloved mistress flee Alta to remove herself from danger. He wished with all his heart she could see him now.

As for
Cassandra, when she was around a man going to war, she wished with all her heart he would make it safely through and then she would send him on his way. She neglected to do so in the case of Mark Nelson, however. She had other plans for him.

Tony
Barone, my agent, was surprised to find me still lolling in bed at ten o'clock the following morning.     

My mind was fully awake
, however. I was considering whether or not to fess up about my wonderful adventure of the night before. In good conscience, I could tell Tony I had done a favor for a soldier. Great publicity, that story. Of course what had happened next was no one's business but my own.

On a compelling whim, I had
taken the delectable innocent home to my bed and enjoyed passion such as I had not experienced in many a year. Mark Nelson and I made love dozens of times, each session ending in mutual orgasm. The bed springs groaned and squeaked like a ship in a hurricane. When I finally rolled him off the bed, fearing we would break the porcelain frame, he told me from the floor he adored me and forever would.

Not wanting my
soldier to get into trouble, I told him to return to his regiment, but I literally had to put him under a spell to do so. As he crept away, he was still gazing at me starry-eyed. Jeepers! My only regret was that, in a weak moment, I had agreed to see Mark again this morning, on his last day stateside.

I
decided against telling Tony anything. Depending on what mood I was in, he was a necessary evil or my best friend. But he would be sure to spill the beans to our dear friend and my companion, Jayne Anne. She was rolling bandages at the hospital last night and would take a dim view of my unprecedented sexual activities. Finally, in case the daft soldier showed up again, hoping for more of the same, the last person I wanted on the premises was nosy Tony.

The thought of a lecture on how I should have posed for photographs in a dozen night clubs instead of indulging myself with a single soldier was nauseating. In fact, I felt half sick.

“
You don’t look glad to see me, Cassie,” said Tony, throwing his cape onto a chair.

“
My dear, you have read my mind.” I pretended to be suffering from my usual ennui, to throw him off the scent. “Won't you go home, Tony? Seven days a week, the same message. 'Get your ass out of bed, Cassandra, and get to work.' No work-ee today, massa. Even God rested on Sunday.”

“
I have become an annoying habit to you. How devastating. I used to be the apple of your eye.”

“
More like the worm. Now please go home.”

“
I love you, too.” Tony picked up a copy of the
Examiner
and leafed through it, looking for stories about me. I sighed. It appeared there was no getting rid of him.

“
So, what did you do last night?”

I shrugged.
“Not much.”

“
Cassie, what have you been up to? You don't look like yourself at all. You look, well, all dewy-eyed. Is such a thing possible?”

I laughed
, pressing my fingertips to the jagged ridge on my breastbone. What did it mean, that my siren birthmark was throbbing and aching?

“
Do I?”

“
Indeed. So cough up your fur ball, kitten.”

“
I didn’t do anything that would make headlines. I ate pie in a drugstore with a nice country boy who says his mother makes the best apple pie in the whole world. A soldier on his way out to the war. Any complaints?”

“
Sounds dull. Anyone take photos?”

“
I don't think so, darling. Sorry.”

“
Where is Jayne Anne?” 

“
Oh, around here somewhere. She came in cranky this morning from her volunteer shift. The phone has been ringing off the wall, but the poor thing is too tired to answer. How tiresome, there it goes again. I’m too hungover to answer it myself. Will you be a darling and get that for me, Tony?”

“
It is not the phone, dear. That’s the doorbell. You
are
hungover.”

Jayne Anne now appeared,
wearing Chinese slippers, long pants, and a checkered shirt over a long-sleeved knit blouse. She looked alarmed; even her long gray pigtails were bouncing with the jitters.

“
There is a soldier here to see you, Cassie. Says his name is Mark Nelson. I told him it was too early, but he won't go away. Do I tell him to get lost?”

Tony was
looking curiously at me, his eyes narrowed.

“
Why, I've never seen you look simultaneously green and pink before, my darling. Do be a sport, Jaynie, and let him in. I’ve always been curious to see a man Cassie likes.”

“
You are a beast. And I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean.”

Mark
was ushered in. He immediately kneeled beside my canopied bed, causing sharp intakes of breath from my two friends. Tony added a whistle. Indeed, Mark Nelson was a handsome chap. 

“
I came as soon as I could when I heard you were sick,” Mark said breathlessly. “I ran the whole way.”  

“
I must have been talking my sleep,” grumbled Jayne Anne. “I don't even remember answering the phone, much less saying such a thing.”

“
Sick?” said Tony skeptically, rolling his eyes at me.

“
Which part of you is ailing?” asked Mark, holding my hand and looking earnestly into my eyes.

I thought of faking a cough, but I was too afraid of laughing.

Tony piped up. “She says she has a problem with her stomach. But I believe it is all in her head.”

Mark lo
oked over at Tony. I could read his mind—my trussed manager, in his velvet smoking jacket, thin dyed mustache, and fat bejeweled fingers, looked exactly like a pimp. 

“
What is he doing here, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“
Pay him no attention, my darling.” As I turned back to Mark, I feigned a spasm of abdominal pain. “He is only the hired help.”

“
I hope it wasn’t the chocolate malted!” exclaimed Mark. He was sitting on the bed now and stroking my forehead. I loved the touch of his fingers.

“
Darling, you didn’t!” snapped Tony. “You should know better!”

“
She didn’t eat all of it. Is she allergic?” asked Mark, looking from me to Tony.

“
Only to me,” said Tony with a resigned shrug.

But Mark was paying him no attention. He looked earnestly at me. I blushed red.
“I have a surprise for you, Miss Carson. I hope you like cherry crèmes with nuts.” 

He pulled a large box of candy strung with pink r
ibbon from his coat pocket. I smiled my thanks, meanwhile enjoying myself at the expense of my two friends, who were both green with jealousy. Tony even got out of his chair to crowd in on the action.

“
Do help yourself,” I said to Tony, handing him the box.

“
Thank you,” he said to Mark, taking a handful.

“
You’re welcome,” said Mark, whisking the box back inside his coat pocket.

Once again, he bent over
me. His eyes were pools of loving concern, like a St. Bernard's. Jayne Anne stomped her foot and left the room.

“
I can see you're feelin' terrible bad, ma’am. I am just going to take your pulse. I used to take care of a horse when it was ailing, back in Wyoming. How does your head feel? Would you like me to rub it for you?”

“
Did you say Wyoming?” I suddenly sat up in bed. Mark looked at me wonderingly.

“
Yes, that’s where I come from. See there,” he said to Tony, “she sat up just now and spoke. She must be feelin' better.”

I could no longer hold back. I started
giggling like a schoolgirl. 

“
Why, what's so funny? Did I miss something?”

“
Nothing at all. My apologies, Mark. Where are my manners? You haven't been properly introduced. Tony, please meet Private First Class Mark Nelson. Mark, please meet Antonio Barone, the devil's helper and my gamekeeper.”

“
Your what?”

“
She means that I'm her theatrical agent, manager, and father confessor, Mark. She can’t do a thing without me. And you are part of the outfit, I presume, that is based at the Presidio?”

“
Yes, sir. I’m shipping out tomorrow. I met Miss Carson only yesterday. She was kind enough to give me a lift.”

“
I dare say,” Tony said, gazing meaningfully at the bulge in the young man's fatigues. I coughed sharply as a warning to Tony that I wouldn't stand for his embarrassing my soldier. But Tony's dirty joke was lost on him as he stared dreamily into my eyes. Despite my better judgment, I found I was staring right back.

“
It might be a good idea for us to put on a show for the camp, after all,” mused Tony.

“
But you said last week you didn’t want to,” I said, still sharing smoldering looks with my soldier.

Mar
k had the bluest eyes I had ever seen, and they were telling me things about our lovemaking which I myself remembered, in exquisite detail. The icy lump that existed in my heart seemed smaller; I was melting.

“
Things can change,” said Tony.

I knew what my manager was thinking. He was wondering what he could tell the soldier about me that would turn him off.
“Indeed,” I said.

Mark continued to look at me, but he addressed Tony.
“I’ve heard about the shows at the camp, sir. A whole lot of boxing and a trained jackass.”

I howled with laughter.
“A jackass! What a sendoff!”

“
Mr. Nelson, would you want to see that kind of show?” asked Tony

“
Nope, not if I can see Miss Carson instead,” he said, in a perfectly honest tone of voice.

“
Look here, Mr. Barone, and see what she gave me.” From his breast pocket, Mark pulled out the press photo I had given him last night. The photo showed me striking a pose with my zither in my arms. I had signed it: “My song is for you, Mark. With love, Nevada.” 

Tony rolled his eyes.
“Someone is in love with a fantasy.”

“
No, I’m in love with Miss Carson.”

The sincerity with which t
he soldier delivered his simple declaration was met with total silence in the room. No one knew what to say, including myself.

The young man himself
may have felt somewhat over-exposed, for he turned to Tony and said, “Care to go outside for a smoke? She is pretty tired. We better get out and let her rest for a bit.”

“
Oh. Oh, yes, of course.”

As
Tony followed Mark out the bedroom door into the outer hallway, I pretended not to notice he was rolling his eyes at me.

“
Leave the door open, please,” I said to Tony.

He shrugged, but he did as I asked. I was then able to listen in on their conversation without exerting my siren powers.

“Smoke?” Mark asked Tony.

“
I don’t mind if I do. But I don’t quite know how to go about this.” 

“
I’m afraid you have too much tobaccer in there, sir. No, no, you roll out. Like this.”

“
Oh yes, I see. I think I’ve got the hang of it now.” 

“
Don’t get it too wet.”

“
Thanks. You’re rather fond of Cassie, aren’t you?” 

“
Crazy about her.”  

“
She kinda likes you too, I guess.” 

“
She don’t know I’m alive. Say, Mr. Barone, what did you call her?”

“
Miss Carson, of course. Son, does your mother by any chance bake apple pie?”

“
Yes, sir! The best! Did Miss Carson tell you about that?”

“
Yes. Maybe she likes you better than we think.”

“
Gee, do you really think so? I would like to marry her before I go, but I’m afraid to ask her.”

“
Oh, she won’t bite.”

“
But that is not the problem, sir.”

“
Yes? What is?”

“
Rounding up someone to marry us before I ship out.”

“
Well, son, if you can take care of the asking part, I may just be able to help you out on the wedding part. I have a good friend on Mission Street who has a license from the city to perform military marriages. He does them anytime, anywhere. All that is required is you show up and pay the fee. I take care of the paperwork afterward, make it all legal and such. Easy as falling off a log, as they say in your part of the world.”

I smothered a cry, half laugh and half sob when I heard Mark cry out:
“Do you mean it, sir? Then, what are we waitin’ fer?”