The Fame Game Read Online Free PDF Page B

now?”
    “Fantastic. You’re a genius, Ingrid.”
    He bounced to the closet, took out Ingrid’s coat, and helped her into it. Then he walked her to the door with his arm around her and kissed her on the cheek. She was as tall as he was.
    “Very nice to have met you,” Gerry said politely.
    “Good luck with your job,” Ingrid said, and left.
    Libra looked at his wristwatch. “I’m going to the gym,” he said. “You can go to lunch if you want, or call Room Service and have it sent up here.”
    “I’d like to go out, if that’s all right.”
    “That’s all right with me, I’ll save money.”
    “Thank you, anyway. And speaking of money, do you think I could have my first week’s salary in advance? I’m kind of broke.”
    He went immediately to the desk and wrote out a check. He tore the check out of the checkbook carefully, as if he was having a little trouble functioning. He inhaled deeply and patted his chest with both hands. He really did look like an ape. “Got to work off that excess energy,” he said cheerfully. He handed her the check. “I’ll be back at three.”
    When he had gone Gerry looked at the check. It was for four hundred dollars: two weeks’ salary in advance. She could hardly believe it. He really wasn’t so bad—he was generous with money, he wanted to help her learn the job, he was a little peculiar, but after all, he had a right to be peculiar if he wanted to be. She called down to the operator to hold the calls, took the extra key for the suite, and rushed downstairs to find the nearest branch of her bank.
    She deposited the check, withdrew fifty dollars for spending money, stopped for a hamburger and a glass of skimmed milk, and took a taxi to her new apartment. The painters were there, and the smell of new paint was intoxicating. She found a hardware store a block away and bought a supply of light bulbs. Her new apartment! It was going to be beautiful! On the way back she made a mental note of the liquor store, the grocery, and the cleaners. The neighborhood was so clean and quiet. No hippies standing around; only a few old people walking dogs. Everyone else was at work, or if they were young mothers they had taken their children to the park. She had a pang of regret, wondering what it would be like to be married to someone she loved, taking their own beautiful baby to the park. She wondered if anybody would ever marry her. At college she had thought that she would be very brave and wait until she was an ancient twenty-four before she settled down. But twenty-four had come and gone, and she had found no one she wanted to settle down with, or if she had wanted him, he was too happy being single—or married to someone he claimed he couldn’t stand—to give it all up. Maybe Libra was right and nobody got married any more. She thought of her married friends: Were they really as happy as they claimed to be? Did the husbands play around already? Did the couples take as much delight in making love, still, or was it only Saturday night, get drunk and get laid because you can sleep late tomorrow? Were the wives bored staying home alone all day? She knew she would be bored; she would have to keep her job, or one like it with easier hours. What had happened to the few guys she had thought she really loved? Were they lonely, tired of dating new, exciting girls every night, tired of telling the same life stories to impress the new stranger, tired of the game to make the girl love them but not too much? How wonderful it would be to love someone too much, and to know he felt the same way … that had to exist somewhere. She felt it really had to. Maybe when she was fifty, if no one wanted her, she could settle for less than love, but right now the thought horrified her. Well , she thought, remembering her favorite heroine, Scarlett O’Hara, I’ll think about it tomorrow .
    She came back to the office at three o’clock. Libra was already there, wearing a fresh, clean navy-blue silk suit