The Erection Set

Walt smiled and shrugged. “I often wondered but never bothered to ask. One day he took me to a fraternal club in London and I saw a picture of him in a football uniform. Seems like he was an All American in college.”

“He looks like a cop.”

“I kind of think he dabbled in that business too. He’s got some odd friends.” He picked a drink from the tray of a passing waiter and tasted it. “Good to see you again, Sharon. It’s been quite awhile. How come old S.C. let you out?”

She looked up into his knowing grin and smiled back. “My boss is dangling me like bait on a hook for his enterprises, as if you didn’t know.”

“Lovely bait. How could any fish resist it?”

“You’re not supposed to. I was critically inspected for capture appeal by the great one himself before being turned loose in your pond.”

“And what sort of catch are you supposed to land this time?”

He signaled the waiter over, took another glass from the tray and handed it to her. “Thank you,” she said. “S. C. Cable wants you for a coproduction deal. He figures you for at least a five-million-dollar bite.”

“Nice, he laughed. ”And you’re the bait. I imagine you are expected to give your all.”

“That’s what I’ve been told. You’ll never miss a slice off a cut loaf, and all that sort of thing.”

“Except that your boss doesn’t know ... or believe ... that this particular loaf has never been sliced.”

“He’s been told, but he doesn’t believe,” she said.

“Ah, you demi-vierges must have a rough time. You’re too much for me, young lady.”

“I thought you enjoyed the last time.”

“Oh, I did. And thoroughly too. A little nerve-racking, but absolutely enjoyable. You’re quite a performer. If you must know, I never had a more pleasant night and day after, but it was a real cliff-hanger with that attitude of yours. Not that I don’t appreciate it. All I can think of is how awful it would be if you ever had an accident, like slipping on a bicycle pedal or something. All your efforts would have been wasted.”

“I could still take a lie detector test,” she said.

“Sharon, I’d sure like to be the lucky man Want to make a trade?”

“For what?”

“Your virginity against the five million?”

“Walt, you’re a wonderful man, but I think I’ll hold out awhile longer.”

“Old S.C. is going to be pretty mad when he hears about the terms you’re turning down.”

She smiled at him, a laugh in her voice. “He’ll never believe it,” she said. “The bonus factor alone is worth five percent.”

Gentry had to laugh back at her. “You know, sugar, I usually can get anything I want with a nice sidewise glance of my gorgeous blue eyes, and if that doesn’t work a cheap diamond compact will do the trick. Except with you. Honey, you’re impossible, but to get you off the hook and let you enjoy your own personal hang-up a few months longer, you can tell S. C. Cable that the deal is on. If you even like me a little bit, tell him you gave me some of that precious stuff just to preserve my reputation.”

“Any options?”

“Sharon ... I’m too lazy to fight for it. Or over it.” He looked across the room to where Dogeron Kelly was standing, leaning against the doorjamb of the French windows, looking out into the misty night with Mona Merrima nuzzling his shoulder. “Watch out for him, Sharon,” he said.

“Why, Walt?”

Gentry took another sip of his drink and idly flipped open a gold cigarette case. “He reminds me of a title of a book. Not the book, just the title.”

“Oh?”

“Call of the Wild,” he told her.

She could feel the heat in her and he was a full room away. When she looked down, her fingers were twisting the ring around ... third finger ... left hand. It was made of brass and she had to wash the verdigris off every night. The stone was glass, green and chipped, something they laughed at but she excused as her good-luck charm when everyone knew she was neither sentimental nor superstitious. Her virgin stone one had named it, still green, not yet ripe, and when it changed color, ready for picking. She had culled out all the answers when they queried her and the answer were enough to stuff up the mouths of the smart ones. She had been around too long and too well. The diamond’s cutting edges were just a little too sharp to touch. Nobody ever mentioned the ring anymore.

Across the room Mona Merriman had taken him outside the French doors. The rain had stopped and a gentle fog turned the windows across the avenue into soft orange ovals. Sharon got up and walked up to Raul Fucia, holding her glass in front of her.

“I need a drink,” she said.

VII

“Mona Merriman,” I said, “you’re a scratchy woman. Why don’t you go get yourself a celebrity?”

“I’ve done them all, dear. You look like better copy.”

“Except that I’m a nonentity.”

“Not quite, Dogeron. I’ve already spoken to your friend Lee Shay. You see, he doesn’t dare hold things back from me. Your being an heir of Barrin Industries makes you an item.”

“Mona, an heir I am, but an inheritor I’m not. I told you I was the family bastard.”

“Even that is news,” she smiled sweetly. “After all, mine is a gossip column.”