Breakfast at Tiffany's-24
"None. Except youre my friend, and Im worried. I mean to know what you intenddoing."
"Youre too young to be stuffy. Too small. By the way, what business is it ofyours?"
The Italian trio imagined a lovers crise and, placing the blame for Hollysgroanings where they felt it belonged, tut-tutted their tongues at me. I wasflattered: proud that anyone should think Holly cared for me. She quieted when Ioffered her another cigarette. She swallowed and said: "Bless you, Buster. And blessyou for being such a bad jockey. If I hadnt had to play Calamity Jane Id still belooking forward to the grub in an unwed mamas home. Strenuous exercise, thatswhat did the trick. But Ive scared la merde out of the whole badge-department bysaying it was because Miss Dykeroo slapped me. Yessir, I can sue them on severalcounts, including false arrest."
"Well?"
I was too sore and shaky to dress myself; Joe Bell had to help. Back at his bar hepropped me in the telephone booth with a triple martini and a brandy tumbler full ofcoins. But I couldnt think who to contact. José was in Washington, and I had nonotion where to reach him there. Rusty Trawler? Not that bastard! Only: what otherfriends of hers did I know? Perhaps shed been right when shed said she had none,not really.
Holly explained that: "They think youre my downfall, darling. The fellow what doneme wrong"; and, to a suggestion that she set them straight, replied: "I cant. Theydont speak English. Anyway, I wouldnt dream of spoiling their fun." It was then thatshe asked about José.
According to my census, hes strictly a citizen of Limboville. Its only: why should Iwaste a perfectly fine ticket? Already paid for? Besides, Ive never been to Brazil."
On the envelope九九藏书网 was scribbled: For Miss H. Golightly -- Courtesy Bearer.
Holly, however, did not want to admit that she saw; yet her face, despite itscosmetic disguise, confessed it. "All right, hes not a rat without reason. A supersized,King Kong-type rat like Rusty. Benny Shacklett. But oh gee, golly goddamn,"
Guided by a compact mirror, she powdered, painted every vestige of twelve-yearoldout of her face. She shaped her lips with one tube, colored her cheeks fromanother. She penciled the rims of her eyes, blued the lids, sprinkled her neck with4711; attached pearls to her ears and donned her dark glasses; thus armored, andafter a displeased appraisal of her manicures shabby condition, she ripped open theletter and let her eyes race through it while her stony small smile grew smaller andharder. Eventually she asked for a Picayune. Took a puff: "Tastes bum. But divine,"
I put through a call to Crestview 5-6958 in Beverly Hills, the number longdistanceinformation gave me for O.J. Berman. The person who answered said Mr.
He repeated the question, as though translating it into another language. "Ah,where she is! She is wailing," he said and, seeming to dismiss me, resumed his valetactivities.
I sat down on Hollys bed, and hugged Hollys cat to me, and felt as badly forHolly, every iota, as she could feel for herself.
"Et pourquoi pas? Im not hot-footing after José, if thats what you suppose.
She rubbed her nose, and concentrated on the ceiling. "Todays Wednesday, isntit? So I suppose Ill sleep until Saturday, really get a good schluffen. Saturdaymorning Ill skip out to the bank. Then Ill stop by the apartment and pick up anightgown or two and my Mainbocher. Following which, Ill report to Idlewild. Where,as you damn well know, 藏书网I have a perfectly fine reservation on a perfectly fine plane.
Buttoned up and constipated," she declared. "Go on."
"No, Holly, its stupid. Youre innocent. Youve got to stick it out."
She was yakking up a storm. I guess I couldnt have told you about the fat woman.
"Touching? That square-ball jazz!"
Iggys the best shingle in New York. I said Iggy you take care of it, send me the bill,only keep my name anonymous, see. Well, I owe the kid something. Not that I oweher anything, you want to come down to it. Shes crazy. A phony. But a real phony,you know? Anyway, they only got her in ten thousand bail. Dont worry, Iggyllspring her tonight -- it wouldnt surprise me shes home already."
The cousin giggled, Im sure he understood me. He shut the suitcase andproduced a letter. "My cousin, she ask me leave that for his chum. You will oblige?"
"Well, so, tough titty. Anyway, home is where you feel at home. Im still looking."
And I did: without the least wanting to. But I hadnt the courage to destroy theletter; or the will power to keep it in my pocket when Holly very tentatively inquiredif, if by any chance, Id had news of José. It was two mornings later; I was sitting byher bedside in a room that reeked of iodine and bedpans, a hospital room. She hadbeen there since the night of her arrest. "Well, darling," shed greeted me, as Itiptoed toward her carrying a carton of Picayune cigarettes and a wheel of newautumnviolets, "I lost the heir." She looked not quite twelve years: her pale vanillahair brushed back, her eyes, for once minus their dark glasses, clear as rain water --one couldnt believe how ill shed been.
"Yes, I will oblige."
Except for the lawyer O.J. Berman had hired, I w
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as the only visitor she had beenallowed. Her room was shared by other patients, a trio of triplet-like ladies who,examining me with an interest not unkind but total, speculated in whispered Italian.Until then, wed skirted mention of her more sinister tribulations, and this jestingreference to them seemed appalling, pathetic, so definitely did it reveal howincapable she was of recognizing the bleak realities before her. "Now, Holly," I said,thinking: be strong, mature, an uncle. "Now, Holly. We cant treat it as a joke. Wehave to make plans."
"In a way it seems quite honest. And even touching."
Since I didnt know about her myself until my brother died. Right away I waswondering where hed gone, what it meant, Freds dying; and then I saw her, shewas there in the room with me, and she had Fred cradled in her arms, a fat meanred bitch rocking in a rocking chair with Fred on her lap and laughing like a brassband. The mockery of it! But its all thats ahead for us, my friend: this comediennewaiting to give you the old razz. Now do you see why I went crazy and brokeeverything?"
But she wasnt; nor had she returned the next morning when I went down to feedher cat. Having no key to the apartment, I used the fire escape and gained entrancethrough a window. The cat was in the bedroom, and he was not alone: a man wasthere, crouching over a suitcase. The two of us, each thinking the other a burglar,exchanged uncomfortable stares as I stepped through the window. He had a prettyface, lacquered hair, he resembled José; moreover, the suitcase hed been packingcontained the wardrobe José kept at Hollys, the shoes and suits she fussed over,was always carting to menders and cleaners. And I said, certain it was so: "Did Mr.
&qu九九藏书ot;I am the cousin," he said with a wary grin and just-penetrable accent.
"Just what kind of pills have they been feeding you here? Cant you realize, youreunder a criminal indictment. If they catch you jumping bail, theyll throw away thekey. Even if you get away with it, youll never be able to come home."
I thought nothing: a tight, highly legible, uneccentric script. "Its him to a T.
We will positively sue anyone who -- " Hanging up, I remembered old Doc down inTulip, Texas; but no, Holly wouldnt like it if I called him, shed kill me good.
Yet it was true: "Christ, I nearly cooled. No fooling, the fat woman almost had me.
she said and, tossing me the letter: "Maybe this will come in handy -- if you everwrite a rat-romance. Dont be hoggy: read it aloud. Id like to hear it myself."
Ybarra-Jaegar send you?"
Berman was having a massage and couldnt be disturbed: sorry, try later. Joe Bellwas incensed -- told me I should have said it was a life and death matter; and heinsisted on my trying Rusty. First, I spoke to Mr. Trawlers butler -- Mr. and Mrs.
"Where is José?"
Holly at once interrupted. She wanted to know what I thought of the handwriting.
"My dearest little girl, I have loved you knowing you were not as others. Butconceive of my despair upon discovering in such a brutal and public style how verydifferent you are from the manner of woman a man of my faith and career couldhope to make his wife. Verily I grief for the disgrace of your present circumstance,and do not find it in my heart to add my condemn to the condemn that surroundsyou. So I hope you will find it in your heart not to condemn me. I have my family toprotect, and my name, and I am a coward where those institutions enter. Forget me,beautiful chil九*九*藏*书*网d. I am no longer here. I am gone home. But may God always be withyou and your child. May God be not the same as -- José."
It began: "My dearest little girl -- "
So: the diplomat was planning a powder. Well, I wasnt amazed; or in theslightest sorry. Still, what a heartbreaking stunt: "He ought to be horse-whipped."
"But after all, he says hes a coward; and from his point of view, you must see -- "
And since youre such a friend Ill let you wave me off. Please stop shaking yourhead."
The instant she saw the letter she squinted her eyes and bent her lips in a toughtiny smile that advanced her age immeasurably. "Darling," she instructed me, "wouldyou reach in the drawer there and give me my purse. A girl doesnt read this sort ofthing without her lipstick."
she said, jamming a fist into her mouth like a bawling baby, "I did love him. Therat."
Trawler, he announced, were at dinner and might he take a message? Joe Bellshouted into the receiver: "This is urgent, mister. Life and death." The outcome wasthat I found myself talking -- listening, rather -- to the former Mag Wildwood: "Areyou starkers?" she demanded. "My husband and I will positively sue anyone whoattempts to connect our names with that ro-ro-rovolting and de-de-degenerate girl. Ialways knew she was a hop-hop-head with no more morals than a hound-bitch inheat. Prison is where she belongs. And my husband agrees one thousand percent.
"Holly. Holly. You cant do that."
Berman was on the line Id emptied so many martinis he had to tell me why I wasphoning him: "About the kid, is it? I know already. I spoke already to Iggy Fitelstein.
I rang California again; the circuits were busy, stayed busy, and by the time O.J.