I sat down on the couch and gestured to Sylvan to lie down. He stretched out and put his head in my lap. I stroked his hair. It was damp with perspiration.

"Forget it," I said. "You had no idea this would happen. You're the one I'm worried about."

"Don't worry about me. I admit that a hundred dollars is a lot for me to throw away that way. My salary isn't all that big. But the hundred isn't going to break me."

"It isn't just the money. Sylvan, do you have to go after these casual pick-ups?"

"Use the Y.M.C.A. method, you mean? Cold showers and volleyball? That sublimation idea is no solution."

"Yes, I know," I said. 'There just is no subst.i.tute for the embrace of another human being."

"Hear! Hear!" Allison said as she came into the room. She set down the tray she was carrying and placed the cups of coffee within our reach.

"We were just discussing Sylvan's problems concerning meeting a better type of man," I told Allison.

She giggled. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help laughing. It's just that this reminds me so much of the sort of discussions straight girls are always having among themselves. 'Where can we meet eligible men.' But in this case, I wouldn't advise a trip to Grossinger's."

"Hardly," I said. "It's a real problem. Sylvan can't just keep on picking up trade in bars. Look what happened with Mike. Yet we can't expect him to stay alone all the time."

"I couldn't stand that," he said. "You don't understand. I'll do anything for companionship. I really need that more than s.e.x. But I settle for that because it's easier to come by."

"I do understand, Sylvan," Allison's voice was sadly tender. "I know what it is to be so lonely you'd sell your soul for someone you can really talk to."

I stared at Allison but she lowered her head and projected complete absorption in her cup of coffee. She refused to look at me.

It hurt to hear Allison say that. Stupid of me but I had taken it for granted that Allison had never experienced the emotional horrors I had. Oh sure, I knew that something must have gone wrong in her childhood. That was implicit in her aberrant s.e.xual preferences. But I had thought that I was the one who needed a wailing wall. I can be terrificly obtuse at times for someone who's supposed to be perceptive. Lots of people are like me. They make the one they love into some sort of near-inhuman symbol of perfection. And ugly things like loneliness don't happen to perfect things.

We talked until nearly dawn without reaching any conclusions. Sylvan just had to keep going to the places where fairly intelligent people congregateda"concerts, adult education cla.s.ses, lectures, etc.a"and hope that someday, somehow he would meet a man who would be both a lover and a friend to him.

Sylvan slept on the couch in the living room that night. It was too late for him to bother going home. He'd just have time to reach his apartment before he'd have to turn around and go to work, anyway. I had a man's white shirt which fitted him so he could go to work without stopping at his place to change.

In addition, I was worried that Mike might be waiting at Sylvan's place. That blockhead was just the type to think that he had some sort of score to settle with Sylvan.

Amy Ferguson came in late in the day after finishing her show. She looked awful. Things weren't bad enough, she informed us in a tired voice, her husband was giving her a real rough time.

By this time everybody concerned was losing hope for placing her nighttime series. Laurie Nelson's pilot had made a hit and was already scheduled for showing in the fall. Happy was still showing the Ferguson pilot to possible sponsors but word had gotten around that it had been turned down. The suspiciousness of show people was working again. Too many of them were afraid to trust their own judgment. They believed that the show was no good for them because others had felt it didn't suit their purposes.

Amy's husband was in his hey-day. The jealous nogood-nik reminded her constantly of her mistake in selecting the script. He was undermining Amy's confidence in herself. It wouldn't last, Amy just wasn't that shaky about herself. G.o.d knows she had enough reason not to be. Every actress makes a few b.o.o.boos during her career and Amy had kept her percentage low.

Worst of all, he was nagging Amy to get rid of her secretary. He was building up a big case that Chris was exerting too much influence over Amy and that Amy had been better off before she hired her. Amy wouldn't fire Chris. I knew one reason why she wouldn't. Everybody else in the office knew that she wouldn't because Chris was a d.a.m.n good secretary and the best friend Amy ever had. But still, her husband's nagging was getting her down and making her question her relationship with Chris. Every day she had dozens of decisions to make about her shows and personal appearances and now her husband was making her question a facet of her life she had comfortably taken for granted before.

Dave Ferguson didn't know that his wife was in the office at that time. Otherwise he wouldn't have called. But he did and launched into a bombastic exposition of his opinions. Happy just let him talk. Dave finally paused for breath and Happy took the break to jump in.

"Listen to me, you filthy crumb," Happy roared. "If you had something to say you should have said it when it counted, before we started filming."

"But, Happy..."

"No buts. The only thing I have to say to you is that you ought to get down on your knees and thank the Lord that you're married to a wonderful woman like Amy." He slammed down the phone and turned to Amy for approval.

She was all over him with grat.i.tude. He was the greatest, he was the best agent in the world, he was her truest friend, she didn't know what she'd do without him, she'd never go to another agency.

Happy waited until five minutes after Amy had left the office before calling Dave Ferguson back. I listened in again: Happy: "Dave? Listen, I'm sorry about the way I sounded off."

Dave: "Jesus, what the h.e.l.l got into you?"

Happy: "Amy was here when you called. I thought you'd realize that from the way I was talking. I had to put on a big act."

Dave: "O.k., but I meant what I said before. You know that Amy doesn't know about the dough I took out of our joint account to back the pilot. I did it on your advice. Now we've got to figure out some way to get that money back into the account before Amy finds out about it."

Happy: "Don't worry about a thing, Dave boy. I'm working on it. Iall get the money back to you."

Dave: "How? You can't get it by cutting down on paper clips. I sank fifteen thousand smackeroos in that bomb."

Happy: "What do you care how I get the money as long as I get it? I'll tell you this much: I sank some of my own money into it and you can rest a.s.sured I'll get that back. And yours along with it."

Dave: "I should have known I could count on you, doll."

Happy: "Sure. Don't forget that the network was underwriting half the costs. A little juggling that they'll never notice and we'll have our investments back. I wouldn't do this for just anybody, you know. The other investors aren't realizing a cent. You know why I'm doing this?"

Dave: "Sure, I know what I've got to do. Don't worry, love, as long as I have anything to say around the Ferguson house, Amy will stay under contract to you."

Happy: "O.k., make sure she does. You know that I could make things pretty hot for you if you fell down on the job, don't you?"

Dave: "You don't have to remind me."

Happy: 'That's fine, Dave. One other thing, stop needling Amy about Chris Salem. You're overdoing it."

Dave: "That d.y.k.e! It makes me feel creepy to have her around. You know, sometimes I think that Amy thinks more of her than she does of me."

Happy: "Tough. My heart bleeds for you. Stop pulling a sensitive bit in your old age. I'm telling you, lay off Chris. She's good people. She keeps Amy happy. Besides, I like her. What the h.e.l.l do you care if she goes for girls?"

Dave: "I just keep thinking that someday she might make a pa.s.s at Amy."

Happy: "Don't worry about it. Amy loves you. She told me so herself today."

Dave: "Guess you're right. Well, let's get together soon, sweetheart. We haven't been out together for an evening in a long time."

"Happy: "I've been busy."

Dave: "Pat?"

Happy: "Enough to keep her pregnant in the summer and barefoot during the winter. Most of the time I've been making it with Bibi Johnson."

Dave: "Bibi Johnson? Va-va-voom!"

Happy: "You said it, sweetheart."

Dave: "Good, huh? Well, pa.s.s her along when you've had your fill."

Happy: "Don't I always? How's it been going with Sylvia?"

Dave: "Ah, she's alright but, you know how it is, once they've had you it takes a lot to keep them happy. I'm not as young as I used to be. Those broads you pa.s.s on to me are wearing me out. I don't know how you keep up the pace."

Happy: "Clean living. Well, we'll get together soon, Dave."

Dave: "Yeah. Well, keep it away from the fan.a Happy: "You bet. So long, lover."

Dave: "Be seeing you."

I turned off the switchboard after their call. It was time to go home.

It was a beautiful night so I walked home. Maybe I was afraid to take the subway. It would have been embarra.s.sing to upchuck in front of all those people.

It seemed as if every time I thought that I had found the lowest point of Happy's depravity, he came up with something new. Full of surprises, that boy. Sure, I was sick to my stomach over what I had heard but did I have any right to complain? It went beyond guilt by a.s.sociation. I knew what was going on in that office so, if I continued to work there, I was an accomplice in Happy's dirt.

So, as I walked the thirty-odd blocks to my apartment, I reviewed my day in Happy's den of duplicity. Taking it from the top, there was the bit with Marv Banner. I didn't worry about that one too long. As far as I was concerned, he could steal him blind. After what he did to Allison, I couldn't care less if Marv were drawn and quartered by his agents. He deserved everything he got.

Playing up to Amy by blasting her husband was crummy. For one thing, I just couldn't help feeling that the whole thing was in deplorable taste. It really bothered me that Amy went for it. Like I've said, I thought a lot of her as a person.

Of course, Amy didn't know how rotten the whole thing was. She didn't know about Happy's real relationship with her husband. Laughing Boy deliberately kept the two of them at each other's throat. It suited his purposes. That way, Amy needed an understanding man to turn to. And there was Papa Broadman, ready and all too willing to remind Amy how much she needed him to confide in.

Then, there was the issue of the investments in the pilot. Not only had Happy made sure that Amy wouldn't get any dividends on her Broadson, Inc. stock for several years to come by using all their capital to back the pilot, but he had also gone behind Amy's back in getting money from her personal funds. If anything went wrong, Dave Ferguson would bear the brunt of the responsibility.

Dave Ferguson and whoever else he had told might believe that story about Happy's investing his own money but I wasn't buying it. It would be too much like expecting a thief to rob a bank where he kept his own savings.

Golden Boy Broadman was going pretty far in swindling the network. The slightest questionable item and the network's legal department would murder him. It didn't bother me much that he might get away with swindling the network out of a few thousand dollars. They could afford it. Guess I'm some sort of latter day Robin Hooda although you could hardly call lining Happy's pockets helping the poor. What did get me was the utter audacity of the guy. All by his sweet little lonesome he was going to try to dupe some of the best legal experts in the industry.

The height of sophistication: Happy telling Dave Ferguson to ignore the fact that his wife's personal secretary was a lesbian. Neither of those two b.u.ms appeared to realize that the relationship went, not only beyond a business one into a friendship, but beyond that. Happy neglected to mention that Dave would find himself without his main means of support if Chris were to stop acting as a buffer between him and Amy.

And when did Amy tell Happy that she was so in love with her husband? Must have been when drunk... when Happy was drunk, not Amy.

Happy had no business telling Amy that her husband was unfaithful but neither should he encourage and partic.i.p.ate in Ferguson's perfidies.

A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell. More so, he doesn't make gifts of his past girl friends, complete with references. There's a word for that. What difference would it make? I could call Harold Broadman a pimp to his face and it wouldn't faze him. My opinion wouldn't matter to him. What good could I do for him? Happy only cared about being liked by the upper echelon of show business. He didn't even give a plugged option what opinion they had of his personality. Just so long as he was considered a man to be respected in business matters he was satisfied.

Altogether a most unpretty picture. Someone else might have smelled the mult.i.tudinous rats around that place sooner but the great brain, Sloane Britain, had taken six months to get the scoop. There was undoubtedly even more that I hadn't yet learned. I knew enough, however. The time had come to make a decision. The job had lots of advantages but, after that afternoon's revelations, I shared responsibility for what went on there every minute longer that I continued to work in that office.

I climbed the steps to my apartment grimly aware of the necessity for an immediate clear-headed appraisal of my plans for the future... and a stronger conviction that I was going to devote great effort to drinking myself stoned that night.

CHAPTER 11.

Allison was a big help. She thought my idea about getting zonked a splendid one. We bought enough booze to float the Saratoga, set it up with ice, gla.s.ses, etc. on the sideboard and proceeded to goof it up. I was half-drunk already from not sleeping and the firewater finished the job. Allison got loaded for the first time since I had met her. She was even more adorable that way. Maybe I thought so because in the condition I was in the view from left field made almost everything look good. Like I was digging her the most. It matters why?

While I could still articulate, I told her about what had happened. Not only that day, I filled her in on all the s.m.u.t I had learned about during the preceding six months.

When I finished, Allison said, "Now I know who killed c.o.c.k Robin."

"Who?"

"Happy Broadman. He didn't do it himself, of course. He made Cinderella do it by hitting him with her gla.s.s slipper. Then, when she married the Prince, Happy was the caterer for the reception. The Prince and Cinderella had a baby boy named Twinkletoes. Happy had a contract with them so they had to let him perform the circ.u.mcision. He used a serpent's tooth instead of a knife so the child was traumatized and grew up to be Rumplestilskin."

"Brother, you're gone, my love. Like way out. Before you lose contact altogether, what about helping me decide what to do?"

"That's simple, come to California with me."

"Whether or not I go to California with you will be decided independent of my employment status. The question is, for the sake of argument presuming that I'm going to keep living and working in New York, should I quit my present job?"

"I refuse to accept the basic premise. Therefore, I can't help you decide. I will not even think of your staying in New York. You're corning to California."

"Dictating to me again?"

"No, using Pavlovian conditioning. I figure that if I repeat it often enough Iall brainwash you till you can't do anything else but come with me."

"There's another word for it," I said.

"Nagging?"

"Precisely. I had enough of it at home. My mother could have won prizes if they held contests in nagging."

"So now I'm like your mother?" Allison said teasingly.

"Yes, and I don't like it. Cut it out."

"What's the matter with you? You're supposed to go for it."

"I don't want you to be a mother to me," I protested.

"Nonsense. You're gay and therefore you're seeking mother subst.i.tutes with whom to re-enact the primal situation. I read that somewhere once."

"You read books?!!! Thank G.o.d that I found out before it was too late. I've heard about people like you. Your kind is trying to undermine the very foundations of this country. I heard that once at a Klu Klux Klan meeting. Fellow who had the local tar and feather concession was talking. Very interesting talk, very timely. I learned all about you all city folks that night. You people with book larnin' is a menace to decent folks."

Allison crossed over to in front of the television set. "May I take this occasion to announce that one member of the Literate Society to Stamp Out Mom and Apple Pie is in her cups? In fact, you might say I'm inebriated. No, I like four sheets to the wind better. All my sheets unfurled and spread out to catch the vagrant winds." She spread her arms out wide to ill.u.s.trate. The gesture knocked her off balance and she swayed back against the TV set. It knocked the rabbit ears antenna down and it fell around her, one limb on each side of her shoulders. Allison pondered this for a moment and then looked up with a profound expression. "That's me... symmetry always."

I roared. When I recovered myself, I said, "I have just discovered that I'm in love with the kookiest woman in New York."

"You just find that out?"

"No, I've known it right along but that last bit finished me. Allison my love, you win the prize for irresistible insanity. You're marvelous, my love, simply marvelous."

"You really mean that?"

"As James Joyce would put it, 'Yes'."