Glenda had rued the introduction from the moment she heard of it. "My god, Bat! You don't know the man. He's a Hollywood hustler."
"I thought he was an agent. That's how I met him. He tried to interest me in a game show. In fact, I am interested in it."
"You don't know the other element of his reputation," Glenda had said. "He's got the biggest schlong in California. Girls will do anything even to get a look at it."
"You've seen it?"
Glenda had grinned. "No, lover, I haven't. But I've heard about it plenty."
There could be no discounting the man's charm. Ben was a squarish man: broad of shoulders, with a big solid head set on a short neck. His eyes were pale blue. He was deeply tanned. Though he was only a year or so older than Bat, his hair had begun to turn gray, and he had apparently hastened and completed the process by having chemicals applied to it. It was almost white, smooth and handsome. His square open face did not suggest the hustler Glenda said he was. To the contrary, it suggested a man who could not tell a lie.
Ben and Jo-Ann had spent the afternoon at a pool party. Jo-Ann wore a white terry beach coat like Glenda's. It was open, showing a tiny black bikini. She was drunk. Ben wore damp maroon trunks and a white polo shirt.
As soon as they were on the deck, Ben lit cigarettes for himself and Jo-Ann. They smoked only on the deck. It was a concession to Bat's pronounced dislike of cigarette smoke.
Everyone understood that Ben would stay the night. He had been doing that, several nights a week.
"We were gonna order in some dinner," said Bat. "You going to join us?"
"On a condition," said Ben. "On me. I buy. What would you guys like? Mexican? Chinese?"
"Chinee," said Jo-Ann. "With an order of fwied pickled ... cockwoaches."
"Fried pickled cockroaches it is," said Ben. "How about a nice bottle of champagne to go with that?"
"That'll make me burp," said Jo-Ann. "How 'bout just reg'lar white wine?"
Ben nodded. "I'll go and make the calls."
"I'll go with you," said Jo-Ann.
"You sit down," said Bat. "I want to talk to you."
Ben's face darkened for an instant as he heard Bat give his sister a direct order, but he turned and went in the house without a word. Glenda got up and went in after him.
"Little sister, you're drunk," Bat said. "I'm not your father, but —"
"Good. That's settled," said Jo-Ann. "I don't have a father. Don't try to play like you are my father."
She reached for the bottle of Scotch, but he jerked it away from her. "Our father is not that bad," he said. "Maybe the problem is you don't have any basis for comparison." She turned her face away from him and directed her attention to the sunset colors slowly fading on the ocean. He went on. "When I introduced you to Ben, I didn't expect you to start sleeping with him."
"You should appreciate him," she said dully. "You jerked the bottle away. Last night he slapped me and poured my drink in the toilet."
"He slapped you? Here? In this house? Last night?"
She nodded and glanced at him. "I had it coming."
"I doubt it," said Bat grimly.
"Don't interfere, big brother. He did it because he cares."
"Or so he says."
She shook her head. "He didn't say it. But why else? What difference to him if I get schnocked? Unless —"
"Do you think nobody else cares about you?"
"Nevada did," she said quietly. "I guess maybe you do, in your way. Jonas? Monica?" She shook her head.
"You're too ready to feel sorry for yourself," said Bat. "You're twenty-one years old. Our father has settled a generous allowance on you —"
"Generous? Is it?"
"It's as much as I'm paid as a salary," said Bat. "It's exactly the same."
"Well, tell me something, big brother. Would you accept an allowance from Jonas? He made you vice president of Cord Hotels, then president. You're supposed to earn your money. Would you accept it otherwise?"
Bat stared hard at her for a moment, before he understood and could respond. "All right. No, I wouldn't."
"Well, I have to. He won't make me a president of anything. So I have to take his charity."
"He's a generous man, and he loves you."
"If you think so. On both scores. I don't think he's capable of either generosity or love."
"You're wrong. Anyway ... You want a job? Is that the point?"
"I want somebody to think I could do a job," she said.
"I'll see what I can do. Now. Ben Parrish —"
"Why did you introduce me to him?" Jo-Ann asked.
"I thought —"
"If I marry him, you and Jonas both can go to hell."
6
Three hours later Bat and Glenda lay in bed together. Her hair was not sprayed and spread softly over his shoulder. She was in a sleepy, dreamy mood.
"Jo-Ann ... and Ben Parrish," she said quietly. "I can't believe it."
"It was the Scotch talking," he said. "She couldn't be thinking of marrying him."
"She had some more. Wine and Scotch. And he wasn't in good shape when they went to bed."
"Be lucky if they don't decide to go swimming in the purple dawn and drown."
"Water's too cold to drown in," said Glenda. "When he wades out deep enough for the water to reach his balls, he'll run back to the beach."
When the bedroom was dark, as it was now, Bat touched the switch that drew back the drapes. From the bed they could see the ocean and tonight could see stars in an unusually clear sky, and could see the odd luminescence of the breaking waves.
Glenda sighed. "The ocean is beautiful," she said. "But I can remember being afraid of it. When I was twenty years old I lived in an apartment with a girlfriend, on Nineteenth Avenue in Bensonhurst. I was working clubs, and I'd come home at night, and out there, just a little distance away, was the ocean. And out there ... Who could tell? Fifty or sixty feet below the surface and only a mile away, maybe a Nazi submarine. Maybe a whole wolf pack of them. An armed force ... of the people who wanted to kill you. I suppose it wasn't realistic. But the Nazis weren't so far away, you see. And if you were a Jew —"
Bat interrupted her with a kiss. "Honey baby," he said softly. "If any Nazis come ashore — There's a pistol in the nightstand."
She sighed again, a noisy exhalation. "You protect Golda?" she asked in the voice of a child.
He brushed back her soft blond hair and kissed her again. "Of course I will, honey baby," he whispered.
"Uhmm ... You don't want to call me Golda, do you?"
"I think of you as Glenda."
"Golda Graustein. And Golda Graustein loves Bat Cord. It promises disaster. Golda Graustein, the daughter of Rabbi Mordecai Graustein, is in love with the son of Jonas Cord, the grandson of Jonas Cord. Love has never brought me anything but ... ill fortune. It's never brought me anything but hurt. I'm hesitant to confess it, for fear it will drive you away."
"Golda —"
"No. You must call me something else. Not Glenda, either. I'm somebody else! Call me Christy! What could be more Christian?"
"Who asked you to be a Christian?"
"But —"
"No, Golda. I don't ask you to be anything but what you are. Hell, I'm what I am, and some people think that's not so great. Golda ... Golda ... Hey, I love you, Golda. You love me — Well ... I love you, too. C'mere ... Christy, my achin' ass!"