Elizabeth looked at him sharply. “Actually you don’t want to get drunk at all, but you’d like to get
“
The waiter came with the drinks and Elizabeth tasted her heavy rum drink. She made a wry face. “Tastes like molasses.” She raised the glass. “How!”
Tommy drank half of his bourbon.
Elizabeth put down her glass. “Silly, isn’t it?”
Tommy was deliberately dense. “The drink?”
Being here like this. She laughed shortly. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Tommy Dancer.”
She repeated the name. “Tommy Dancer. Mine’s Elizabeth Targ.”
“I got it off the wheel of your car last night.”
“You remembered it?”
“I wanted to remember it.”
She looked at him thoughtfully. “Why?”
“Maybe because you gave me tire half dollar.”
She grimaced a little at that. “Stupid of me, wasn’t it?”
“I’m satisfied.”
“You’re satisfied with what?”
“Being here with you.”
She drank some more of the rum concoction and leaned back in her seat. She regarded him thoughtfully for a long moment. “Just what do you think of me, Tommy Dancer?”
Tommy’s eyes surveyed the table for a moment, then suddenly he raised them. “I think you’ve had a fight with Earl Faraday and—”
“Earl Faraday!” she cried.
“I’m not exactly blind.”
“Earl Faraday,” she repeated in a low tense tone. “If he were here right now I’d throw this glass in his face.”
“Sure,” said Tommy, “you probably would at that. And if Flo Randall were also here you’d pull out her hair or scratch her face.”
“Let’s get out of here!” she exclaimed and got to her feet.
Tommy tossed a couple of one dollar bills on the table and followed her out of the Saigon Spa.
Outside Elizabeth got into the car and huddled down in the seat. Tommy climbed in and started the motor, “Home?”
“No.” She looked at him. “Haven’t you got a place?”
“Sure, but it’s not much.”
“It’s better than sitting here in the car.”
That was the last word she spoke until Tommy parked the Cadillac in front of the dingy two-story stucco apartment building on Las Palmas Street, where for $35.00 a month he rented a one-room, kitchenette and bath apartment.
He got out of the car and walking around opened the door on her side. “You’re sure you want to come in?”
“Of course I’m sure!” she snapped at him and got out.
They crossed the sidewalk and Tommy opened the door of the apartment house. He had lived here almost a year, but not until now had he been aware of the cooking smells that permeated the corridors. They climbed the stairs to the second floor and walked to the end of the hall. Tommy unlocked the door of his apartment. He threw the door wide open and flicked on the light inside.
For just a second Elizabeth hesitated. Then she stepped into the apartment and shrugged off her mink coat. Tommy looked at the threadbare sofa, the scarred table across the room, the wide door that concealed the in-a-door bed, the blue rug that had seen better days many years ago, the open bathroom door and, on the right, the tiny kitchenette. He wondered if Elizabeth Targ had ever been in as shabby a place as this.
He closed the door. “I’ve got some beer in the icebox and I think there’s about a half pint of rye around somewhere.”
“I’ve had enough to drink,” Elizabeth said. She turned and looked at him. “Well?”
Tommy crossed to her and knew that he was trembling violently as he took hold of her. He could feel the involuntary shudder that ran through her body. He slipped his arms about her and, holding her close, pressed his lips to hers.
There was no resistance, no returned pressure, but something exploded inside of Tommy and he was suddenly kissing her savagely; her mouth, her cheeks, her forehead, her throat. And still she made no resistance.
Then suddenly he released her and stepped back. “Damn you,” he said savagely.
She cocked her head to one side. “What’s the matter?”
“You know very well what’s the matter.”
“Did I push you away?” She came toward him and kissed him, squarely on the mouth; a long kiss, but utterly without passion.
Again it was Tommy who stepped back.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“You!”
“I’m here.”
Tommy said bitterly: “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I want you more than anything in this whole damn world. I’d crawl on my knees to you — if you didn’t have Earl Faraday in your blood.”
She looked at him steadily for a moment, then turned and picked up her mink coat. She put it on and held out her hand. “My keys.”
“I’ll drive you home.”
“No.”
He handed her the key and she went to the door. Opening it, she said: “Good-bye, Tommy Dancer; thanks for everything,” and went out, leaving the door open.
Tommy stood for a moment looking at the door, then crossed and kicked it shut. Whirling, he headed for the kitchen where he found the part bottle of rye.
