Part 4 (1/2)

Poor Vail had been entirely against this breakfast tryst. Outside Tabor's mansion, climbing into the carriage behind the business manager, Oscar had asked him, ”Why the sudden departure? I thought we were supposed to charm this Tabor fellow.” He pulled the carriage door shut.

”Yeah?” said Vail. He plucked the cigar from his mouth and turned to him. ”You figure raping his doxy, that's gonna charm the guy?”

Oscar was clapped back against the seat as the carriage lurched forward. ”Raping? What on earth are you talking about?” But glad that the darkness hid the sudden blush that bloomed across his face.

Vail shook his head. ”Jesus Christ, Oscar, I gotta tell you, I never saw anything like it. The two of you were going at each other like a pair of minks. Right in front of the guy. Another five minutes and you would of been humping right there on the floor. Yeah, that would of charmed him pretty good, I guess.”

Oscar made his voice curdle with disdain. ”Humping?” (But, unbidden, inescapable, the vision flashed across the back of his brain: he and the woman atop the Persian carpet, a tangle of white arms and legs, a tumble of red hair.) ”Look,” Vail said. ”You got to forget this breakfast deal tomorrow.”

”Don't be absurd. I've already told them I'll be there. He asked me himself. You heard him.”

”Oscar, I'm telling you, the woman is poison. Poison. You get involved with her and Tabor's gonna find out. Nah, you think. Not him. Sure, right, he looks like a dope. He acts like a dope. He is a dope, prob'ly. But he's rich, Oscar boy. He's powerful. And people like to tell stuff to rich folks. The servants, the neighbors. Believe you me, he'll find out. And he's not gonna take it kindly, you putting the hose to his chippy.”

”Putting the hose?”

”He could hurt you, Oscar. Hurt you bad.”

”The man is three feet tall, Vail. What will he do, kick me in the s.h.i.+ns?”

As the streetlight pa.s.sed across Vail's face, his eyes narrowed. ”What do you figure it costs, a town like this, filled with six-guns, for him to get someone to plug you?”

”I couldn't begin to imagine.”

”About thirty-five cents.”

”This is ridiculous,” Oscar said. ”I'm merely going to breakfast. Nothing more.”

Vail shook his head firmly. ”You got to forget it.”

”Now see here, Vail. When it comes to my business dealings-costs, finances, guarantees-I'm perfectly happy to listen to your no doubt sage advice. Providing sage advice is what you're paid for, after all. But outside the framework of commerce, my life is my own. I've been asked to breakfast with Mrs. Doe. I am going to breakfast with Mrs. Doe. Is that understood?”

”Oscar boy, there ain't nothing at all that's outside the framework of commerce.”

Oscar frowned in annoyance. ”A typically American remark. In Europe, even in England, we understand that life isn't merely a matter of shopkeepers and tradesmen. There is, thank goodness, an entirely separate universe. Of Beauty. Of Truth. Of Compa.s.sion and n.o.bility.”

”Yeah, well, first of all, this ain't Europe. And second, I notice you generally got a pretty good idea, every night, what the receipts are gonna be. Down to the penny. You count the house pretty good for a poet.”

”Poetry,” Oscar announced, ”is by no means incompatible with arithmetic. Look at the ancient Greeks.”

”Jeez,” said Vail, ”that's all we need, the ancient Greeks again.”

Oscar stared at him. ”And what does that mean?”

Vail shook his head, waved his hand. ”Nothing, nothing.”

”Are we back to young Mr. Rudd.i.c.k now?”

”I didn't say a word about the fella.”

”I know your feelings on the subject.”

”Look, all I said was that maybe he was a bit on the lavender side. I didn't mean nothing personal.”

”Mr. Rudd.i.c.k is an extremely sensitive young man. He shows great promise as a poet.”

”Right. Right. He's swell. You want him along on the tour, he comes along. I'm flexible, right? I can compromise. So how come you can't? Oscar boy, for your own good, you got to forget about seeing this chippy tomorrow.”

”Permit me to determine where my own good lies. I was invited. I am going.”

Sadly, Vail shook his head. ”She's poison, Oscar. I'm telling you.”

”Perhaps, but the fact is, I'm not having her for breakfast.”

Vail frowned glumly. ”Yeah, well. We'll see about that.”

And they had sat in silence, the light from the streetlamps ticking slowly over them, until they returned to the hotel.

Now, sitting in his room, Oscar blew another stream of smoke at the slab of sunlight.

Poor Vail. Impossible, of course, for him to comprehend how two souls might come together in a companions.h.i.+p that was spiritual, literary, Platonic.

The poor man would never understand that each soul possessed, as it were, its own distinctive vibration. That when a particular soul-through one of those lovely tricks of frivolous Fate-came upon another which vibrated at the same frequency, it began at once to hum. Like two tuning forks of identical pitch-which need never actually physically touch each other-the two souls beautifully resonated in sympathy.

So it had happened with himself and Elizabeth McCourt Doe.

Oh, no question that the woman was attractive. Yes, that lavish t.i.tian hair, those uncanny violet eyes, those wide red lips, those firm full b.r.e.a.s.t.s, that unsullied skin, that long lithe body so exquisitely and extravagantly sensual ...

No question at all.

But of course it was not this which fascinated him. Well-he smiled-to be entirely honest, it was not this only.

No, far more than her undeniable physical beauty, it was the beauty of her soul, incandescent behind those uncanny violet eyes, that drew him irresistibly to her. It was her soul's obvious compatibility and harmony with his own that drew the two of them irresistibly toward each other.

Poor Vail. A decent enough chap. Good hearted even if mercantile. But of course the union of two pure souls was something he could never fathom.

From the closet Henry came carrying the boots, the socks, the black trousers, and a pair of black silk undershorts patterned with grey fleurs-de-lis. He set the boots on the floor and arranged the rest on the bed beside the other clothing. ”Anything else, Mistuh Oscar?”

Oscar blew another cone of smoke. ”Could you hire up a carriage and have it waiting outside in, say, forty-five minutes?”

Henry nodded his white-haired head.

”And could you tell Mr. Rudd.i.c.k that I won't be joining him this morning for breakfast?”

”Mistuh Rudd.i.c.k,” Henry said, ”he already left. He say he goin' up to the mountains, talk to the wildflowers.”

Oscar smiled. ”How very fortunate for the wildflowers. They're certain to find Mr. Rudd.i.c.k's conversation stimulating.”

Henry nodded again, his black face, as always, expressionless. ”Yes suh.”

”Thank you, Henry. I'll see you at twelve-thirty then, before the matinee.”