A Key to the Suite Read online

“Five-five.”

  “You look much taller than that!”

  “It’s because I’m a wraith. A hundred and five pounds. I’ll even tell you the forlorn dimensions. Reading from the top they’re thirty-one, nineteen, thirty-one. Symmetrical, no?”

  “Not exactly. Thirty-one, thirty-one, thirty-one would be truly symmetrical. Putting that crazy nineteen in the middle is what saves it. Anyhow, Jan has a hell of a good figure, said he with husbandly pride. She’s generally a placid gal, which works out fine because I’m inclined to blow up. Lately she hasn’t been so placid. That’s because I’ve had to leave her alone too much, and she has the idea I could get out of all this traveling. I could, but at the moment it doesn’t seem to be the smart thing to do. You didn’t ask for my problems. You asked about Jan. She is my nifty girl.”

  “It makes me feel like an urchin outside a candy store.”

  “You never feel sorry for yourself. Remember?”

  “Any time I start to, all I have to do is remember the delights of my marriage. And suddenly you’d be surprised at how contented I get.”

  “You should try again.”

  “Uh uh! I rode my little barrel over the falls, thank you. I survived, but not by much of a margin. Floyd, dear man, thank you for the drink and the talk. You can plant me in a cab, please. Tomorrow I’ll be the earnest quester, and nail you down about what you really think about conventions.”

  Halfway through the lower lobby she stopped suddenly and turned, smiling, and said, “If you have time, and if it’s possible to get anywhere near the ocean, ten minutes of sea breeze would blow the cigar smell out of this mop.”

  “I have time and there’s an ocean around here somewhere. I swear I’ve seen one.”

  They walked across the pool area and found an outside stairway that led up to the low flat roof of the furthest rank of cabanas. With most of the hotel lights behind them, they could see the phosphorescence in the waves. They stood side by side, looking over a low wall.

  “One day,” she said, “it ought to reach up with one hell of a big wave and yank all this gunky luxury right back out and drown it.”

  “Nature girl?”

  “By instinct, but not habit.” Suddenly she took her shoes off, put them on the wide railing and stood close to him, smiling up at him. “See? Five five. Not even that, actually. I lie a little. Five four and a little over a half inch.”

  “And you actually weigh seventy-two pounds, and the measurements are really nineteen, nineteen, nineteen.”

  “The hell you say, Hubbard.” She came up on tip-toe, put her arms around his neck and sagged her weight on him. “A hunnert ’n five pounds of dreary broad.”

  She kissed him lightly, mockingly, and suddenly he was kissing her with a strength and fury he could not have anticipated. She fitted her slimness to him, strained to him, left her mouth soft for the breaking. The kiss ended and he was holding her close, whispering, “Cory, Cory, Cory, Cory.” Her hands moved on his face and his throat, and she covered all the parts of his face she could reach with a hundred light quick kisses, making an audible, murmurous sound of contentment as she did so, until her mouth came back onto his, into a little more violence than before.

  “You’re not running,” she muttered. “You’re not running like a rabbit.”

  “Cory, Cory. God, you feel so sweet and good.”

  She thrust him away, snatched up her bag and shoes. “I better do the running, my darling. Right now it’s the only thing that makes any kind of sense.”

  She fled more quickly than he would have guessed possible. He called to her, but she did not stop or answer. By the time he reached the bottom of the steps she was more than halfway across the pool area, moving fleetly through a confusion of colored spotlights and floodlights, between the tropical plantings, angling toward the flank of the tall pale hotel.

  He slowed his pace and sat on a chaise near the pool and smoked a cigarette. He wiped her lipstick from his mouth. He looked at the sky, and went on up to his room.

  He was wearily and dutifully brushing his teeth when the room phone rang. He hurried to the phone, half expecting long distance, half expecting some kind of family disaster.

  “Floyd?” she said in a small wary voice.

  “In that good school, were you by any chance on the track team?” He stretched out on the bed.

  “Tennis, swimming, field hockey. No track team. I just got home. Just this minute.”

  “Did you ever get to put your shoes on?”

  “Darling, I know you’re keeping it all very light and gay so that this won’t be an awkward sort of conversation, and I do treasure you for it. But I feel wretched, and I want you to please let me go on feeling wretched. And guilty.”

  “Why be guilty?”

  “Because it was all so damn contrived, dear. When we started out, I didn’t want to be put in a cab all of a sudden. I wanted to be kissed, and I meant to be kissed, and, damn it, I lied and fiddled around until I made sure that I did get kissed. You were like they say, a helpless pawn.”

  “We pawns make out pretty good.”

  “Floyd?”

  “Yes?”

  “It turned out to be more of a much than I’d planned on.”

  “I know.”

  “My mouth is bruised, and I keep getting these stupid trembling feelings like waves, and they go from my scalp right down to my toes and back up again.”

  “Best of luck.”

  “Tell me I did right to run.”

  “You did exactly right, Cory honey.”

  “And we have to leave it right there, don’t we?”

  “At the moment that seems like a cheerless prospect.”

  “Oh, I know. I know. But this hit a little too hard to … seem safe.”

  “Yes indeed.”

  “Somebody has to do the running.”

  “And you did it. You’re a good sensible girl.”

  “Yes, damn me. Floyd?”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “I messed myself up. I don’t want to mess you up too.”

  “Could you?”

  “Help me, darn it! Tell me to stay the hell away from you.”

  “Sure. Stay away from me.”

  “Do you think it’s going to be easy?”

  “Certainly not. Now do me the same favor.”

  “Okay. Floyd, stay away from me.”

  “I’ll give it a try.”

  “Did anything ever happen to anybody so sudden?”

  “They say it does sometimes.”

  “Never to me.”

  “Or to me, before.”

  “Floyd, darling, we’re just going to have to be terribly rational about it. Avoiding each other is just going to be tantalizing. The best thing we can possibly do is get together tomorrow, by the cruel light of day and talk it to death. What do you think?”

  “Talking should do it. I’m still a coward.”

  “What were you doing when the phone rang?”

  “Well, I didn’t catch this girl’s name, it all happened so suddenly, and it looks now as if she’s given up and gone to sleep, but …”

  “Floyd!”

  “Actually, I was burnishing my fangs and thinking of you.”

  “What were you thinking about me?”

  “Actually, I was trying to decide what to think about you. I was trying to establish an attitude, I guess. But I was, and still am, a little too dazed to make very much headway with it. You see, Cory, this doesn’t happen to Floyd Hubbard. It’s out of character. One of the most beautiful women he’s ever seen just doesn’t fall into his arms. So Hubbard isn’t ready. Right now he feels like a gay blade. Inside he’s doing some swashing and a little buckling. He’s got an imaginary waxed mustache. Hell, honey, he’s flattered all to pieces, and half convinced they drugged you in that bar, and pretty certain that by tomorrow you’ll laugh yourself sick.”

  “No, Floyd. No. Don’t ever think that.”

  “The very first time I fell in love I was eleven,
and she was a saucy little redhead named Ruthie. A very advanced ten. Sophisticated. I saved a buck thirty-nine and bought one hell of a big valentine heart full of candy and went shivering to her door that Sunday morning. She came to the door and I held it out and said, ‘Duh … uh … duh …’ She snatched it away, and her eyes lighted up and she gave me the most electrical smile in all the world and she squealed, ‘Tommy sent it! Tommy made you bring it to me!’ I hadn’t put any card in it, so all I could do was walk slowly away.”

  “I could kill her! I could kill her!”

  “The rest of the average story of my life goes like this. It obligated me to mend my wounds by bashing Tommy about. So I found a chance to pick a fight with him, and he beat the hell out of me. So you can see, Miss Cory, that when a beautiful woman swoons into my arms, my history makes me skeptical.”

  “I’m not beautiful. I’m a dreary, scrawny broad.”

  “And I am a dreary little husband, girl.”

  “Keep using that word tomorrow, Floyd. Husband. I despise poachers.”

  “Go to bed, Cory. Rest up for the battle. When are you coming over?”

  “Midmorning, I guess. Sleep well, my darling.”

  “You too.” He heard the sound of a sigh, a kiss, a clack of hanging up.

  After the light was out he thought, Hubbard isn’t ready, but she is. The thief said, “I was just walking down the street minding my own business and this here wallet bounced right into my hand.”

  But it would be so damned unfair. Jan has so little chance to compete in Cory’s league.…

  Yet he had a vivid textural memory of Cory’s lips, of the sleekness and warmth of her back, of the small hardnesses of her breasts against his chest.

  Who would have to know? Who could be hurt?

  Five

  ON THE MORNING OF the first full day of the convention, Connie Mulaney stood one step behind her husband and looked at him in the full-length mirror as he tied his tie.

  “What are you cooking up, Jesse? I want to know.”

  “Cooking up? Who’s cooking anything up, honey?”

  “You have that look.”

  He spun around. “What kind of a look am I supposed to have? I’m under a hell of a lot of pressure. Maybe it shows. I can’t help that. My God, Connie, I’m doing the best I can. I’m working hard. How about that speech last night? You saw how well it went over.”

  “You did very well, dear. You always do.”

  “I’ve got to run a committee meeting, starting at ten.”

  “So you’ve been telling me.” She reached and adjusted the knot of the tie, patted it, stepped back. “That’ll have to do.”

  As they walked toward the nearby elevators he said, “How’d you get along with Floyd Hubbard? I saw you were sitting next to him.”

  “He’s a very nice boy, Jesse.”

  “Did he seem to like my speech?”

  “He seemed impressed.”

  They stood waiting for the elevator. “Somehow, I can’t get to know him.”

  “Why not, dear? He seems easy to know.”

  “For one thing, he won’t let his hair down. He lays back. Weak drinks and damn few of those. He’s one of those guys who’d check and raise. A damn sandbagger if I’ve ever seen one.”

  As they got onto the elevator she said, “Now, dear, a man can be entirely human and still not go hog crazy at a convention.”

  “Like our grandson says, honey, that fella bugs me.”

  “I don’t see why he should.”

  “No matter where I am, I got the feeling he’s seven feet behind me and off to one side, listening and watching.”

  When they were seated at a table for two and had ordered breakfast, he brought Hubbard up again. “He said he doesn’t know anything about selling, but he’s certainly memorized all that crap in the GAE management manual. One thing he asked me last night. He wanted to know what I thought about the idea of changing over to dividing up the sales force by products instead of into geographical areas.”

  “What did you tell him, dear?”

  “I just told him we’d been up one side of that and down the other up in New York, and I think a good knowledge of an area, and a good warm personal relationship with all potential customers makes more sense than all this crap about knowing one part of the line inside and out. I told him my men are salesmen, not technical consultants.”

  “What did he say?”

  “I guess he didn’t say much of anything, but I guess he saw my side of it. Then he brought up some egghead idea of teaming up an engineer and a salesman, but I knocked that down quick. I told him that the quickest way to kill a sale is bring in the technical boys too early, because they can always think of a dozen reasons why an installation won’t work out. I say nail the sale down, then make the damn thing work.”

  “I guess he’s anxious to learn from you, dear.”

  “If he’d listen, I could teach him one hell of a lot. But I wish to God he’d stop working for a couple of minutes. If he’d have six drinks and find him a friendly little girl, he’d get a more tolerant attitude toward the sales division.”

  “And give you a chance for a little gentle blackmail?”

  “Who said anything about blackmail?”

  “Don’t raise your voice, darling. And don’t look so innocent and indignant. Remember me? I’ve been around a long time. I’ve seen you work it before at conventions. I remember that fearless state senator in Nashville that time.”

  Mulaney grinned. “The one that was going to nail us on kickbacks? Hell, yes! By the third day he was following me around like a little puppy dog, because I’d opened up a brand new world for that poor love-starved man.”

  “It won’t work with Floyd, dear. Maybe he isn’t righteous, but I think he’s terribly careful.”

  They ate in silence for a few moments. “At least,” Jesse said in a slightly surly tone, “we’ve got the top exhibit in the place.”

  “Have we?”

  He dropped his fork with a clatter and stared at her. “What’s wrong with it, Con? You saw it. You saw the attention it’s getting.”

  “And I saw a look of pain on Hubbard’s face, dear. What’s getting the attention? AGM products? Or those cheap twins wiggling their butts in unison? It’s typically a Freddy Frick idea. Vulgar, sensational and sexy. Even Cass is visibly uneasy about it. It doesn’t exactly tie in with the magazine campaign, does it?”

  “Woman, this isn’t a magazine. This is a convention.”

  “And anything goes? Anything for a laugh?”

  He glanced at his watch, glared at her and stood up. “I’ve got to go. Sign the check. Thanks for the big boost to the morale, honey.”

  She watched him stride out of the restaurant. Her eyes were stinging, and she tried to smile. The dear, dear vulnerable fool. Met him when he was a drummer. Day coaches, rooming houses, the heavy sample case, the small stores in the sleepy towns. And so little had changed, actually. The cigars were more expensive. But the jokes and the laugh were the same. And those truly horrid suits in that electric blue he loves, and the wide silk ties, like photographs of fireworks. But he isn’t mean. Thank God, he isn’t mean. He’s just scared.

  On that same morning, Farber of GAE flew to Houston from New York on a quick inspection tour and conferred with John Camplin, the new executive vice president of the American General Machine Division of GAE. They were both trim tailored men in their early forties, so much the same type they gave the impression of being related.

  After the more urgent problems had been talked over, and decisions reached, Farber said, “You’re shaping it up faster than anybody expected, John. And it takes me off the hook for insisting on moving you into the hot seat.”

  “Nice to hear, Harry. There’s a long way to go. It wasn’t only dead wood, it was dry rot. With a couple of exceptions, the new team is working out.”

  “How about sales? Frankly, that’s the only place where you haven’t moved as fast as I thought you would. Why haven
’t you gotten Maloney out of there? Recruiting trouble?”

  “His name is Mulaney. No. I’ve got a good man lined up to come over with us as soon as I say the word. I had to steal him.”

  “Then why are you dragging your feet?”

  “It’s sort of a PR problem, Harry. He’s president of one of the industry associations. He’s at the convention right now, where they elect a new president. We wouldn’t have looked too good giving him the ax earlier. And he’s a stubborn old bastard. He might have gone to the convention anyway, and made his speech and hit us over the head with it.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “He goes next week. Plaque, citation, tears and full retirement.”

  “Full?”

  “He’s only two years off it now, so what does it cost for a gesture? An extra seven hundred a year. We did the same thing for Lane, remember? It buys a little loyalty, and leaves me with no guilt. In fact, one of my boys is down at that convention making a final confidential report on him.”

  “Good God, John, what do you need with another report? That man has never …”

  “Whoa! I sent Hubbard over there, for a good reason.”

  “Hubbard? Hubbard? Is that the one you were telling me about in New York a couple of months ago? Some kind of technical fellow?”

  “Metallurgical engineer. I called him in and conned him. I told him we still weren’t certain about Mulaney. I said the evidence was against the man, but he was reputed to do us a lot of good at conventions and things like that. I told him his report would be the final deciding factor in whether we live out the two years with him, gradually transferring responsibility and authority or get rid of him right now.”

  “With a man like Mulaney, you can’t take things away piece by piece. He’d bitch up the whole …”

  “I know that, Harry. And so do you. This Floyd Hubbard was one hell of a find. He’s got first class organizational instincts. He’s shrewd about people. He can work like a horse and shrug off the pressure. I’ve been sticking him into some very hairy situations, and he’s done damn well. But they’ve been office-hours problems, without the social overtones. I have one doubt in my mind about him. I don’t know if he’s rough enough. I have a hunch he is, but he has yet to find that out about himself. Do you understand?”