U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [527]
. . . or must I he. . . esitate.
It was morning. Dick was shouting the party couldn't break up, they must al come to breakfast with him. Every-body was gone and he was getting into a taxicab with Gloria and a strapping black buck he said was his girl-friend Florence. He had a terrible time getting his key in the lock. He tripped and fel towards the paleblue light seeping through his mother's lace curtains in the windows. Something very soft tapped him across the back of the head.
He woke up undressed in his own bed. It was broad
daylight. The phone was ringing. He let it ring. He sat up. He felt lightheaded but not sick. He put his hand to his ear and it came away al bloody. It must have been a stocking ful of sand that hit him. He got to his feet. He felt tottery but he could walk. His head began to ache like thunder. He reached for the place on the table he usual y left his watch. No watch. His clothes were neatly hung on a chair. He found the wal et in its usual place, but the rol of bil s was gone. He sat down on the edge of the bed. Of al the damn fools. Never never never take a risk like that again. Now they knew his name his address his phone-number. Blackmail, oh, Christ. How would it be when Mother came home from Florida to find her son earning
-517-twentyfive thousand a year, junior partner of J. Ward Moorehouse being blackmailed by two nigger whores,
male prostitutes receivifig males? Christ. And Pat Doo-little and the Bingham girls. It would ruin his life. For a second he thought of going into the kitchenette and turn-ing on the gas. He pul ed himself together and took a bath. Then he dressed careful y and put on his hat and coat and went out. It was only nine o'clock. He saw the time in a jeweler's window on Lexington. There was a mirror in the same win-dow. He looked at his face. Didn't look so bad, would look worse later, but he needed a shave and had to do something about the clotted blood on his ear. He didn't have any money but he had his checkbook.
He walked to a Turkish bath near the Grand Central. The attendants kidded him about what a fight he'd been in. He began to get over his scare a little and to talk big about what he'd done to the other guy. They took his check al right and he even was able to buy a drink to have before his breakfast. When he got to the office his head was stil split-ting but he felt in fair shape. He had to keep his hands in his pockets so that Miss Hil es shouldn't see how they shook. Thank God he didn't have to sign any letters til afternoon. Ed Griscolm came in and sat on his desk and talked
about J. W.'s condition and the Bingham account and Dick was sweet as sugar to him. Ed Griscolm talked big about an offer he'd had from Halsey, but Dick said of course he couldn't advise him but that as for him the one place in the country he wanted to be was right here, especial y now as there were bigger things in sight than there had ever been before, he and J. W. had had a long talk going down on the train. "I guess you're' right," said Ed. "I guess it was sour grapes a little." Dick got to his feet. "Honestly, Ed, old man, you mustn't think for a minute J. W. doesn't appreciate your work. He even let drop something about
-518-a raise." "Wel , it was nice of you to put in a word for me, old man," said Ed and they shook hands warmly. As Ed was leaving the office he turned and said, "Say, Dick, I wish you'd give that youngster Talbot a talking to. . . . I know he's a friend of yours so I don't like to do it, but Jesus Christ, he's gone and cal ed up again say-ing he's in bed with the grippe. That's the third time this month."
Dick wrinkled up his brows. "I don't know what to do about him, Ed. He's a nice kid al right but if he won't knuckle down to serious work. . . I guess we'l have to let him go. We certainly can't let drinking acquaintance stand in the way of the efficiency of the office. These kids al drink too much anyway."
After Ed had gone Dick found on his desk a big laven-der envelope marked Personal. A whiff of strong perfume came out when he opened it. It was an invitation from Myra Bingham to come to the housewarming of her studio on Central Park South. He was stil reading it when Miss Hil es' voice came out of the interoffice phone. "There's Mr. Henry B. Furness of the Furness Corporation says he must speak to Mr. Moorehouse at once."