Читать книгу Believe You Me! - Nina Wilcox Putnam - Страница 4

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I wasn't going to make no statement about this here affair; and I wouldn't even yet, only for our publicity man. The day the story leaked he called me up in the A. M., which is the BC of the daytime, and woke me out of the first perfectly good sleep I'd had since Jim pulled that stunt and floored me so.

First off, I wouldn't answer the phone; but Musette stood by me with it in her hand and just made me.

"For my sake, mademoiselle!" says she, just like she used to in our act on the big time, which we played before I got into the dancing game. "For my sake, mademoiselle," she says, "do not refuse to talk with the publicity man!"

Well, when I heard who it was I seen some sense in what she says; so I set up amid my black-and-white-check bed, which—believe you me—is as up to date as my latest drawing-room dance. And I grabbed off the phone.

"Yes," says I in a fainting voice; "this is Miss La Tour. What is it, please? I'm far from well."

"Cut out that stuff, Mary!" says a male voice. "This is Roscoe. I want you to give out a statement about you and Jim splitting up."

"I won't!" says I, very sharp. "Whatter yer think I am?" I says. "That's nobody's business but our own!"

"Oh, ain't it, though?" says Roscoe, very sarcastic. "The biggest parlor-dancing outfit in America busts up and you can't be seen, even, for two whole days! The stage at the Royal ain't notified that your piece is called off; the De-Luxe Hotel don't get no notice that you ain't going to appear; and all the info' I could get when I called up your flat is that you was gone out!"

"And so I was!" says I, indignant.

"Then I call up Jim's hotel and they say he's gone!" shouted Roscoe. "Hell!" says he, forgetting that me and the telephone operator both was ladies. "Hell! What kind of way is that to treat a guy you're paying three thou. a year to for getting your picture in the paper every time you sneeze?"

I didn't have any comeback about that, for there was certainly some truth in what he says. But I wasn't to be put down so easy.

"I guess I know my business, Ros," I says, sharp, "or I wouldn't be living in a swell flat on the Drive, all fixed up like a furniture shop, with a limousine and two fool dogs, and earned every cent of it myself, and no one can say a word against me, if I didn't know my own business. So there!"

"Looka here, Mary," says Roscoe. "There's going to be a lot of talk up and down the Rialto if you don't come across with some explanation. I'm comin' right up to get it."

"No, you don't," I says, for I hadn't had my facial massage in three days, and, after all, Roscoe is a man, even if press agents ain't exactly human. "No, you don't, Ros!" I says. "If I gotter make some statement, I'll write the dope myself and you can fix it up after—see? It's a big story, but delicate, and I'm going to have no misunderstanding over it."

"All right, Mary," says Ros. "But you get the stuff ready for the morning papers. I'll be up for it."

Then he hung up and I knew I had to come across. Besides, Ma come in just then; and while I may boss my press agent, and even sometimes my partner and Musette and the two dogs, Ma sorter gets my goat. Ma had on a elegant rose-silk negligee I give her; and as usual, she had it ruined by tying a big gingham apron over it, which made her look the size of a house, but sort of comforting. She stopped by the bed and set both her hands on her lips—the way she does when she don't mean to be answered back.

"Now, Mary Gilligan, you get right up and wash your teeth!" says Ma, "and do your three handsprings and other exercises, decent and proper; and then eat the breakfast I got cooked for you."

Funny thing, but Ma ain't got a mite of dramatic sense. I just can't understand it, after her having been with the circus so long on the trapeze, until she got too heavy after I come; and since then in the wardrobe-end of the theater, and all. I ain't never been able to break her in to none of the refinements of life, either, and she will go into the kitchen for all I say; and some day I just know she'll call me Gilligan in public. And a nice laugh that'll get!

But, anyhow, I usually do what she says, because Ma is a fine trainer; and—believe you me—I wouldn't be able to hold on to Jim's neck and swing out straight twenty times round, like I do—or did—only for her and her keeping me on the job like she's done. The only other trouble with Ma is, she can't seem to properly understand that it's my artistic temperament which has brought in the cash—that and some good looks, and me realizing that this refined parlor-dancing stuff would go over big. Of course Jim's being able to wear a dress suit like he'd been born in it has helped some, even aside from being such a fine partner; which brings me back, as they say, to the tale.

Well, I done my exercise, and so forth, and then I had Musette bring up the sofa, a elegant gilt one—for we got what Ma calls Looie-the-Head-Waiter stuff in our parlor—to the window, so's I could lay and look dreamily out over the autos on the Drive to the ships in the river; you know—the German ships which have been taking out their naturalization papers, or something. And, as I lay there thinking, I come to the conclusion that if I told about the split I better tell all, including my own enlistment.

Oh, how well I can now understand why many men enlist, having been through it all myself! And how then they long to get out, and can't, and realize that they was boobs! And how they learn that they weren't boobs after all, once they got used to it! Do you get me?

Well, anyways, I decided to tell the whole story, which, of course, begun at Ruby Roselle's party.

I think I don't hardly need to state that I don't generally go with that Roselle crowd. No acrobatic dancer could and keep her health. And—believe you me—every drawing-room dance act that is worth a thousand dollars a week has acrobatics, and good sound acrobatics, as its base. Well! As far as Ruby Roselle and her crowd is concerned, far be it from me to pass any remarks. But any one in the theatrical line will tell you that a girl which has made a reputation only on the color of her hair and is not averse to tights don't have to lead the rigid life of a first-class A-1 dancer, leaving out all judgments as to character, which are usually wrong anyways.

But, having said that much, I will only add that I have never gone out a lot, and seldom without Ma. And while champagne is not exactly a stranger to me, owing to Jim and me always having to have it served with our dinner at the Ritz each night—which any one with sense knows is all publicity stuff and we never drink it—still, I'm not in favor of champagne parties, which they generally end in trouble; and this one of Ruby's was no exception.

Indeed, I wouldn't of gone in the first place only for us unfortunately being on the same bill at the opening of the Superba Roof, which, of course, being the big midnight show of the year, and the rest of the leads all having accepted, and Ruby being in so strong with the management, it would of been bad business policy to refuse.

When I pointed this out to Jim he couldn't see it at first, owing to me never having gone on such parties; and nobody can say any different, with truth. But the Superba contract was the biggest thing we had got yet. And, coming on top of the twenty minutes in Give Us a Kiss, the twenty minutes at the De-Luxe Hotel, the net profs. was pretty fair. So, for once, we accepted an invite to one of Ruby's famous blow-outs.

Ruby Roselle's house was something wonderful, but not to my taste, there being too much in it, besides smelling of cologne and incense, which, from her singing Overseas in red-white-and-blue tights, was more or less to be expected. Also, the clothes on her and the other girls was too elaborate. My simple little real lace, and my hair, which Musette always does so it looks like I done it myself, made them seem like a Hippodrome production alongside of a play by this foreigner, Ib-sen—do you get me? I was proud of this; for—believe you me—getting refinement means work, just like any other achievement, and I had modeled myself on Mrs. Pieter van Norden for years, than whom there is surely no one more refined by reputation, though I had never seen her. I could see Jim felt the same about all this, and we exchanged a look on it; for, besides being engaged to be married we was the best of friends when we come in—when we come in! Remember that!

After we said "How do ye do?" to Ruby, I whispered to Jim not to celebrate too much. He ain't a drinking man if for no other reasons but those of my own; but just oncet in a while he'd get a little more than he should, and this opening night the show had gone awful big. Had he but heeded me better! Alas! Nothing doing; it was all in vain!

For description of party see any motion-picture film on Vice. Why waste words on what is so well known? And—believe you me—this was just like a fillum; and, as I have said, nothing like that for mine, usually. But, even so, we might of got off safe and home without no trouble—only for Von Hoffman and the baby alligator.

It seems like this here Von Hoffman was stuck on Ruby; in fact, it was him that suggested her singing Overseas in that fierce costume. Also, he gave her the alligator, she having tried to pick on a present he couldn't possibly get when he wanted to buy her something. But, being German by descent, he had the efficiency to get it, anyways; and there was the alligator at the party, about fifteen inches long, with a gold collar and diamonds in the collar—and we at war!

Well, it seems this alligator hadn't eat since it come; and after Ruby had a double Bronx and two glasses of champagne the memory of his hunger began to worry her—do you get me? So she had him brought in and set in the middle of the supper table on the orchids at two dollars per each, which he sat on without moving while the crowd tried everything on him, from olives to wine, with no success. The alligator seemed a awful boob, for he just lay there like a stuffed one, which we knew he wasn't on account of his not having eaten.

Well, Jim hadn't heeded me. I guess the truth must be told, though, honest, he had took but very little; still, being unused to it, the effect was greater—do you get me? And pretty soon he and this Von Hoffman was kidding each other and that alligator something fierce.

Now Jim took a hate on this Von Hoffman bird the minute he laid eyes on him, partly on account of the costume of Ruby, and also on general principles, because of the bird's accent. But, the alligator not moving or nothing, Jim asks if the alligator understands only German.

"In all probability," says Von Hoffman; "he is a high-class alligator."

"Then he ought to understand American," says Jim. "He'll have to eventually; why not now?

"There's nothing to prove that," says the German bird with a sneer. "He will probably get along very well as he is, with German only."

Jim looked mad as a hatter; but instead of taking it out on this Von Hoffman, as he had ought to have, he turned on that poor dumb beast.

"Well," says Jim to the alligator, "here's where you learn some patriotism."

And he leaned 'way across the table until his face was only an inch or two away from the alligator's. Jim looked that animal straight in the eye and spoke very severe.

"To hell with Germany!" says Jim.

And with that the alligator snapped—snapped right onto the end of Jim's nose! Oh, my Gawd, but I yelled! So did Jim—believe you me! And then we all tried to get that fiend of a pro-German alligator off Jim's face. When they succeeded in making him let go you had ought to of seen Jim's nose! It had four holes in it and was bleeding something fierce.

Oh, may I never live to see such a sight again, let alone having to go through what followed! For once I forgot my refinement completely, and I remember yelling at Jim to kill that German. For if he didn't sick his alligator onto Jim, who did? And there he stood laughing at Jim for all he was worth; and Jim never offered to fight him!

Believe you me, all my sympathy for Jim melted right away when I seen he wasn't doing nothing but stand there holding on to his nose and moaning.

"I know alligator bites is deadly poison!" He kept saying it over and over again, while Von Hoffman was laughing himself sick.

"I hope it is poison!" he says. "I hope it is, you jackanapes of an American dancer!"

At this I walked right up to that Von Hoffman bird.

"I'll get you for this!" I says. "Somehow I know you're a wrong one, and I'll get you, even if Jim don't want to! I'd enlist to-morrow if I was a man and get your old Kaiser as well!"

Then, the next thing I knew, me and Jim was in the limousine, on the way to the hospital; and Jim was still moaning over being poisoned by the alligator and getting blood all over the place, and the car just relined and everything! I didn't say a word just then, because, of course, you must stick to a pal in time of immediate trouble—do you get me? But I was boiling mad inside, though worried a little about the poison. Still, Jim's not hitting that bird, Von Hoffman, was worse to me than death itself.

At the hospital the chauffeur and me got Jim inside somehow and to a desk in the hall. There was a snappy-looking nurse sitting there with a book, and our coming in at that hour no more worried her than a fly in cold weather. She just looked up quiet and spoke—sort of unhospitable.

"Name of ailment?" she inquired.

"Alligator bite!" I told her, brief; and I will say this got her goat a little, because she made me say it twice more before she would believe me.

Then she directed us down a long hall, and a young guy in a summer suit of white duck stopped reading the newspaper long enough to give Jim's nose the once over.

"No cause for alarm," says this bird. "The nose will be about twice its normal size for a day, that's all!" All! And, as if that wasn't enough, he painted the nose and all round it with some brown stuff, which stopped the bleeding but made Jim look like he was made up for some sort of comedy act. Jim was perfectly sober by then and quit talking about poison, and etc., and when he was back in the limousine I just let myself go and bawled him out good and plenty.

"Now see here, Jim," I says, "I've stuck by you to-night long enough to make sure you ain't goin' to die or nothin'; and now I'm through!"

"You been just fine, Mary," says Jim, trying to take my hand. I took it away quick.

"You don't get me!" I says. "I mean I'm through for keeps. The engagement is broken, and everything!"

"Whatter yer mean—broken?" says Jim, sort of dazed.

"Just that!" I snapped. "Here you get tight and take a insult from a German; and, as if that wasn't enough, you go farther and get bit by a pro-German alligator! And you don't even offer to fight the German who owns the alligator, either! And, what's furthermore, you've got your face swoll up so's you won't be able to dance to-morrow night; and that iodine won't wash off; and the act is crabbed in the bud—do you get me? Crabbed! And I'm through—that's all! So don't never come near me again!"

Believe you me, Jim tried to make me listen to reason; but I couldn't hear no reason to listen to, and so wouldn't let him say much. Then Jim got mad and bawled me out for breaking my rule and going on the party, and by the time we got to my place we wasn't speaking at all—not even good night or good-by forever!