“Well, I’m glad you did. I’m very buoyant right now because of the book and it’s made it hard for me to judge things properly in other areas.” He picked his pipe off the table. “I’ll be finishing it tomorrow.”
“Hey, that’s terrific!”
He brightened. “It is, isn’t it? I could have been done a long time ago, you know. I usually just get a first draft done and go back to it later. But this time I kept thinking of things I wanted to change and reworking earlier stuff.”
“I can’t wait to read it.”
“You won’t have long to wait. Hey, you know something, kitten? I still feel like a premature celebration. How about if you put on something beautiful and I’ll buy you a fancy dinner?”
“I had a sandwich while you were working.”
“Understandable. So let me have a sandwich myself and we’ll go out and do the town. What there is of it.”
She chewed her lip. “Well, I sort of have a date.”
“Just sort of?”
“There’s this girl, I was going to go over to her house for a few hours. Oh, there’s no reason not to say it. It’s Melanie Jaeger.”
“I didn’t know you were friendly with her.”
“I run into her in town now and then, and lately we’ve gotten to talking. She’s sort of interesting. Now that the summer people are gone there aren’t that many fascinating heads in town.” She hesitated. “I could call her up and tell her to make it some other time, I suppose.”
“No, don’t do that.”
“The thing is, I’d rather celebrate after you finish the book. And after I read it.”
“You may not feel like celebrating then.” He got to his feet. “But I’ll hold you to it,” he said. “You can read the book tomorrow afternoon and tomorrow night we’ll go out for dinner. Deal?”
“Will it be done by then?”
“I’m going to finish it tonight,” he said. “I’m not going to be able to unwind unless I drink too much, and I don’t feel like it. The only way I’ll get the book out of my head is by finishing it. Is there arty coffee?”
“I’ll make some. I’ll bring it to you.”
Hours later she got out of Melanie’s bed and took a shower. She toweled herself dry, then called out, “Hey, is it okay to use your toothbrush?”
Melanie burst out laughing.
“I’m hip, it’s a terrible question. Which one is yours?”
“The yellow one.”
As she was dressing, Melanie said, “I’m not going to brush my teeth. I want him to taste you on me.”
“Wow, that’s kinky. But you weren’t going to tell him about us.”
“Oh.”
“I mean, do what you want.”
“No, I’ll have to make up something.”
“Look, tell him the whole thing but make me some stranger you picked up in a gay bar in Trenton or something. Describe me and everything, but make me someone you don’t know and never saw before or since. You let me pick you up and you brought me back here and we made it in your bed, the whole trip just the way it happened.”
“And then you used my toothbrush.”
“Right.”
“You are devious,” Melanie said.
“I’m more devious than I used to think. It almost scares me how devious I am.”
Warren drove directly home from the theater, brushing off several cast members who wanted him to join them for a drink. By the time he got to his house Robin had been sleeping for hours and Anne Tedesco was yawning. He talked to her long enough to learn that everything was all right, then sent her off to bed.
So Bert’s entrance, fifteen minutes later, could not have been better timed. He was sitting in a corner of the living room when Bert walked in, and after one glance he knew that his assumption had been correct; Bert was leaving him, and with any encouragement whatsoever Bert would tell him so tonight.
“The prodigal returns,” he said. “I hope Aunt Elizabeth is feeling better.”
“She’s going to be all right.”
“It must be quite a change for her, though.” Bert looked puzzled. “A whole identity crisis,” he explained. “Her name was Aunt Harriet the last time we discussed her.”
“That’s sneaky, Warren.”
“That’s sneaky? Physician, heal thyself.”
“I was going to tell you. I need a drink.”
“You can fill my glass while you’re at it. Unless they taught you at women’s lib to stop waiting on men.”
“You don’t have to be a bitch, Warren.”
“I know. We can be civilized.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Oh?”
“Not entirely what you think.”
Warren let him tell it. A week ago an agent from New York had heard him play at the Inn. The agent had told him he was wasting himself, that he could be playing decent clubs in New York, making better money and being heard by influential people. And of course Bert had given him an unequivocal no at first, but after some thought he had realized that his career was vitally important to him and that he did not want to spend the rest of his life playing music for Bucks County drunks to talk over.
“I gather there’s a qualitative difference between Bucks County drunks and Manhattan drunks,” Warren said. “No, don’t let me interrupt you. Carry on.”
So he had called the agent, and the agent had arranged auditions Friday afternoon and evening and this afternoon, and he already had one booking and the promise of a second. And he knew how Warren felt about New York, and of course he couldn’t possibly commute, and their relationship had about run its course anyway, and—
“So it’s not another man,” Warren said.
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
“You didn’t ball anybody in New York.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“I assume your new agent is a woman.”
“No, a man. What has that got—”
“A heterosexual man, however.”
“Cut the shit, will you. Warren?”
He stared moodily into his glass. Without looking up, he said, “When are you moving?”
“I was thinking of leaving tomorrow.”
“Why, that’s a rush engagement, isn’t it? Audition one day and start work the next. Your agent’s a whiz.”
“I have to get an apartment, I have to get settled.”
“One must get settled. You’ll be leaving your present employers high and dry, won’t you? Maybe you could call them now and let them know.”
“Well, I—”
“Because they won’t be open tomorrow.”
“Goddamn you, Warren.”
“When did you give notice? The night your nelly agent propositioned you?”
“The next day.”
“That’s splendid. And I have a splendid idea. Why don’t you pack a few things and fly away? I’ll ship the rest as soon as I have an address for you. Or do you already have an address?”
“No, I’ll be living alone.”
“Poor thing. Is there a place you can stay tonight?”
“You cocksucker. Yes, there’s a place where I can stay tonight. And I don’t have to pack a few things because I had the foresight to pack a few things yesterday because it occurred to me that you might pull this sort of shit. It’s just as easy for things to end pleasantly, Warren, but you never forget you’re an actor. You always have to play to an audience even when you’re all by yourself in an empty theater.”
“Wait a minute.”
“What for?”
“For nothing, I suppose. I don’t know. I’m sorry, Bert. It hurts a bit so I try to hurt back. Childish.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
“I’ll tell you what. Let’s neither of us be sorry. It was fun while it lasted, and I’ll always settle for that as an epitaph. For a life or for a love affair. It was fun while it lasted. There’s just one problem. Where do you drop the curtain?”