I woke up fast. "Not tonight, I ain't. Bobbi, you look... you... I mean-"

"Just as I said." Gordy again.

She slipped from his arm onto mine. "Keep looking at me like that and you don't have to say anything, lover."

Just as well. I couldn't think of any words that could come close to saying how I felt. And I had delusions of being a writer.

"I gotta do some business tonight, Jack," she said by way of a warning. Gordy had gone ahead of us; Ike LaCelle was busy introducing him to Adelle and Grant.

"I figured as much when Archy Grant turned up at the table."

"It was Gordy's idea to get him here to see me." "I figured that, too. You angling to get on the Variety Hour?"

"Exactly. He's probably aware of it, so I can't be too anxious or obvious."

"Scheme away, my lovely. Make yourself rich and famous, just don't forget your old friends."

She planted a peck on the edge of my jaw. "Have you met Archy? What's he like?"

"He's okay, I guess."

"I thought you enjoyed his show."

"I do, but the jury's still out on whether I like him or not." Privately, I'd already pegged him as an a.s.shole, but there was no need to prejudice Bobbi against him. She had enough to think about. "On the surface he's smooth enough, but he doesn't give much of himself away."

"He is pretty famous. Some people have to close themselves off like that to keep everyone from taking away pieces.

You've seen me do it."

"I have. But the jury's still out." After all, it wasn't like I was starstruck around him, as other people were. I'd met celebrities before. h.e.l.l, once I even lost twelve bucks playing pinochle with Chico Marx. "Grant seemed very interested in you-"

"Was he?" That pleased the h.e.l.l out of her.

"-but if he gets fresh I'll see to it his face makes friends with the sidewalk."

"Oh, Jack!" She squeezed my arm. "You are so d.a.m.n cute when you get jealous."

"I'm not jealous, just looking out for your interests."

"Well, thank you, but-"

"Okay, I know, and I'll back off. It's not that I don't trust you; it's all the rest of them. They should look at you with respect, not like you're a piece of fresh meat."

"You'll hate this, but Marza said nearly the same thing earlier today."

Marza Chevreaux was Bobbi's accompanist on the piano, and she had no liking for me at all. The feeling was mostly mutual, but for Bobbi's sake we lived by a sort of half-a.s.sed truce, only drawing blood when she wasn't around to hear us.

"You called it right, sweetheart. Me and Marza agreeing on something? Did h.e.l.l freeze over and I miss it?"

"She's like you in wanting to protect me from the cruel, cruel world, but there's no need. After all the stuff I've been through, I think I can handle most anything."

"I bet you could."

"I know I can-but it's nice that you want to cover my back."

That called for a kiss. A peck on her forehead seemed the most appropriate, so I delivered.

She straightened my tie a little. "Now, where Mr. Archy Grant is concerned, it is strictly business. I'll charm his socks off, but that's as far as the undressing goes. Besides, he's sort of engaged to Adelle Taylor."

That surprised me. "Engaged? Jeez, the way he treats her I thought they were married."

"Oh, yeah? Tell me-no, never mind. Gordy's waving. It's show time."

She didn't really square herself as others might have done to face an important situation, but a subtle change did take place in her. I could almost feel the electricity she could generate suddenly building to charge through and around her like a small, intense storm. I don't know what it was she did or how she knew to do it, but when she went into it she seemed bigger and brighter than before. She radiated enthusiasm and energy and people got caught up in it in spite of themselves. Some liked it and hung around like moths wanting to burn themselves up, and others gave her a wide berth, but one way or another everyone felt it.

She was different than she'd been when I'd first met her. The potential had been there, but she was so under the control of her mob lover she didn't dare use it except onstage. Once clear of him, and once she understood I wasn't about to make his mistakes, she cut loose and really pressed ahead with the serious business of being herself. It was a wonderful process to watch, and G.o.d help anyone, myself included, who dared to interfere. Of course, I still had a protective streak toward her that was a few miles wide. I couldn't pretend otherwise, but kept it well in check. If there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was having anyone looking over her shoulder for her own good.

With this in mind I hung back by half a step once we reached Gordy's table. As host, he presented her to them all.

The men stood and acted suitably impressed, even Dalhauser. Adelle shook hands with a big, sincere-looking smile and complimented her on the show, giving the rest the signal to fall over themselves delivering their own praise. Ike had the most to offer, comparing her to Ginger Rogers and Carole Lombard, both of whom he just happened to know. We took our seats, and Grant spared us from another of Ike's involved reminiscences.

"This is a quite a change from that jungle review you did for the Top Hat Club a few months ago," he said to Bobbi.

"Goodness, you saw that? Thank you for remembering."

"Not at all. You showed then that you have the rare quality of good comedic timing; that's something you have to be born with."

"So I've been told."

"After this club date, what are your future plans?"

"That depends on what my agent turns up for me." It was her standard reply for anyone who bothered to ask. This time she did not follow it up with further information, such as what she expected would come her way. That was to be Grant's job if things worked right.

"What would you like to do?" he pressed.

"Anything that pays."

"Well, now..." he began, doing an Eddie Cantor roll of the eyes.

She picked up on it and laughed. "Anything with singing and dancing, I mean."

"You are versatile." He milked it for exactly two seconds, then damped it down to a more serious level. "Would you be interested in singing on my show?"

"Who wouldn't, Mr. Grant?" She beamed him her sunniest smile.

"Archy, please. If we're going to work together it has to be first names all around. Isn't that right, Adelle?"

"Perfectly right, darling," she said, unconcernedly taking a cigarette from a gold case with her initials engraved on it. Gordy, sitting between her and Grant, offered her a light.

"So, Bobbi, you think you could have something ready by this Tuesday? I know it's very short notice, but-"

"Oh, I could do it, but I don't know how to work it into my schedule. Your show's on at the same time I'm doing mine."

"You don't have to sing in the studio. We could set something up to broadcast right here from the club. With Gordy's permission," he added.

Gordy gave a slow nod. "It'd be good publicity for everyone."

Things moved pretty fast after that; even though I was stone-cold sober, I couldn't keep up with it. I had better luck paying attention to what was going on beneath the negotiations and planning.

It seemed clear to me that Grant was attracted to Bobbi, but smart enough not to move on her in an obvious way.

All he really had to do was play up his brand of charm, flash the perfect teeth, and be vastly amused at anything witty she said, using his familiar laugh. It went without saying that he was very famous and in a position to do her a lot of professional good. Most other girls would have been dazzled and eager, but Bobbi wasn't of their number. If any dazzling was to be done, that was her job. Ike was thoroughly caught up in her spell, and even Dalhauser looked more animated than was usual for him.

Throughout it all she would occasionally slip her hand under the table, find my knee, and give it an affectionate squeeze. It was an unconscious gesture on her part, for all her concentration was on Grant, but because it was unconscious it meant more to me than anything she could have done on purpose.

I also got the impression that Grant was out to annoy Adelle in a not-too-subtle way. She tried hard to pretend not to notice anything. Gordy wasn't blind and leaned over to whisper something in her ear, which resulted in a smile from her. Not a big one, but after that some of the stiffness left her shoulders. When the business talk died down Gordy signaled someone behind me, and one of the staff brought over a tray stacked high with fancy sandwiches and caviar.

Someone else delivered more drinks. Bobbi had another grape juice, this time chilled.

"Aren't you eating, Mr. Fleming?" asked Adelle, sliding black fish eggs onto a cracker. I wondered if it had been baked by Miss Sommerfeld's family.

"I had something earlier." Actually, I'd fed heavily at the Stockyards last night, but she didn't need to know that.

Bobbi's hand happened to be on my knee again. She gave me a playful pinch.

"That's a very smart outfit, Adelle," she said. "Is it a Schiaparelli?"

"No, a Banton. Is yours a Greer?"

"An Adrian."

This set off an intense discussion as they batted names like Chanel, Irene, Orry-Kelly, West, and Tree back and forth.

The men, myself included, looked either bewildered, bored, or blank. The end result for the women was a date for lunch and shopping tomorrow.

One of the braver chorus girls, egged on by her giggling sisters, approached Grant and asked for an autograph. He flashed her his public smile and troweled on the charm. This brought more girls, one by one, all smiling, maybe hoping to do what Bobbi had just accomplished. Things were too crowded, and the stink of the food was getting to me. Bobbi still had more talking to do, so I quietly excused myself and slipped away to more open s.p.a.ces. Gordy managed to do the same thing and joined me.

"That went like you wrote the dialogue," I said, straddling a chair up on the empty second tier.

"Better than planned," he agreed, leaning on a rail to watch things a few steps below.

"What if Grant hadn't been interested in putting Bobbi on the show?"

"Then I'd drop a word in Ike's ear so he could suggest that Grant get himself interested."

"Ike doesn't strike me as the kind who would have much influence with too many people."

"He's got plenty."

"How so?"

"Ike's cash and connections is what got Grant started back in New York in the first place. They been thick for years."

"So that's why Grant puts up with him."

"Don't underestimate Ike. He's starstruck and likes dropping names, but he knows how to do tough."

"And I should be friends with this guy?"

"He's a handy shortcut to a lot of talent."

"How much of that talent owes him?"

"A few, but not in money. For them, he mostly does favors."

"When he's not setting up c.r.a.p games?"

"You got it, kid."

"What kind of favors?"

"Nothing too illegal."

That covered a wide range of possibilities "Such as... ?"

He thought a minute. "There was some Broadway singer playing around with his costar in a show, only his wife in California don't know it. She comes to New York for a surprise visit. Ike got wind of it, got to the hotel first, and had the girl dressed and down the back stairs as the wife was getting out of the elevator. It saved the production from looking for a new leading man."

"So he and the costar are Ike's good friends now?"

He opened his hand, palm out, in a "what do you think?" gesture.

"Did Bobbi know you planned to have Ike promote her with Grant?" "I told her. She didn't like it."

"But she went ahead anyway."

"She told me if she didn't get a job on Grant's show on her own, then I was to tell Ike to forget it."

"Would you have?"

He grimaced and finally nodded. "You gotta be honest with a gal like her. On the other hand, Ike would have gone ahead and told Grant anyway. Just look at him. He's goofy for her."

"That would let you off the hook."

There was a look of definite satisfaction on his mug. "I win both ways."

"So does Bobbi." Of course, singing "Chinatown, My Chinatown" on Grant's show was probably not going to make her an overnight sensation. She'd had more to do on another national broadcast last fall and nothing had come of it. But with Grant backing her she might get more recognition than before. I could hope so.

Down on the dance floor some of the band members brought their instruments out and started an impromptu session. They'd been fed and watered and this time were playing for the love of their craft, not the money.