Single white female

21

ALLIE walked away from the interview without any special feeling that the job was hers. They would call and let her know, Mrs. Quinette, an assistant administrator, had told her. Don't call us. Allie figured the odds were long that she'd be given a chance, especially after they checked her references and came across whatever poison Mike Mayfair had spread. There was no hiding in the world of computers. But at least she'd tried, taken some control of her life again. It was a partial revival of the spirit. A start. As was her decision to tell Hedra she must move out.

The rain had stopped and patterns of sunlight lay in stark planes and angles on the buildings. Allie felt so good she rode the subway beyond Times Square and walked several blocks to the Atherton to see Sam.

Sam stood before the full-length mirror mounted on the closet door and adjusted his sport coat so it hung evenly on his thin frame. Posing at a slight angle, he glanced quickly at himself, as if he might catch his reflection by surprise with a button undone or a shoelace untied. No chance. He'd been surprised too often lately not to be on guard, surprised even by himself and his emotions.

He turned from the mirror and looked around the new, smaller suite he'd been given at the Atherton. It was hardly more than a large room with an anteroom and extra closet. But the paint was fresh, the gray carpet was new, and it was an inside, quiet room away from the street. The only sound now was that of a TV or radio, constant patter seeping faintly through the old thick wall from the next room. It sounded like a game show, but the voices were so indistinct he couldn't even be sure of that.

Sam had done brokerage business with one of the suppliers of the Atherton, Bram Bolton, for years, and a little special treatment on commodity information for Bolton had prompted the man to put in a word for Sam. Shortly thereafter, Sam had been told he could move out of his ninth-floor room, which needed decorating, and into this one, at a rate reduced to the point where it was cheaper than rent for an apartment. He was the conduit for what Bolton and Mellers, the Atherton's assistant manager, thought to be inside market information, so it was an arrangement that worked beautifully. A phone call here and there concerning news as soon as it came over the broad tape, and all three parties were happy. Nothing there for the SEC to complain about, either; if Bolton and Mellers assumed they were getting inside information, that was their business.

For an uncomfortable moment Sam thought about Ivan Boesky, the convicted Wall Street manipulator who'd placed profit before ethics. But this was quite different, Sam thought. There was nothing illegal here, and it was very small-time. The motive was a better hotel room in a city where living space was precious, but this wasn't exactly the Helmsley Palace. There was a knock on the door. He had to leave soon for a lunch date, and he didn't want to get mixed up in a long conversation with Mellers. He considered not going to the door, then decided that was silly. Mellers might see him leave the hotel later-He crossed the room and opened the door.

Allie. She was dressed up, wearing a blue dress and high heels. He thought she looked especially beautiful in blue.

She stepped into his embrace and clung to him, then kissed him on the lips. He bent her backward with the strength of his arms, then removed his mouth from hers. He gently massaged the nape of her neck. She said, "Surprised to see me?"

He grinned. "A bit, but it's a pleasant surprise." He stepped back and made room for her to come in. "Miss me?" she asked. "Do bears miss honey?"

She stood in the center of the room and looked around. "They told me down at the desk you'd switched rooms." She peered over his shoulder. "This one looks better. Not that it matters."

He studied her. There was something new in her eyes. A bright pinpoint of light he didn't understand. "Why doesn't it matter?"

She drew a deep breath and said, "I'm going to tell Hedra she has to move out." Sam was surprised. "Why?"

"The other day a man mistook me for her on the street. He stopped me and came on sexually, then got mad when I didn't respond." "He propositioned you?"

"No, he reminded me of a conversation we were supposed to have had about a proposed… sexual experience. Kinky sex, suggested by me."

"And you think it was actually Hedra who talked to him?" "Sam, I know it was."

Sam couldn't conceal his confusion. "Well, Hedra's allowed a social life."

"Some social life. It turns out she's mixed up with this wild crowd down in the Village, doing drugs, I'm sure. And she's been using my identity. Even wearing some of my clothes. Being me in a way that scares the hell out of me."

He went to her and held her close, liking the warm length of her body pressing against his own. "It can't be as bad as all that," he told her.

"1 looked in her closet today, trying to find some of my clothes. She's got a wig in a box on the top shelf. It looks exactly like my hair, Sam. When I say she's using my identity, it's more than simply using my name. It's… like she's stolen my life."

"You went to the police about the obscene calls," Sam said. "Have you told them about this?"

"No, I don't see how it's a police matter, even though it does explain the phone calls. I really don't care what Hedra does as long as she stops being me. That's why I'm going to tell her our living arrangement's over. I want to make her life none of my business, and mine none of hers."

"She'll think you're doing it so I can move in," Sam said.

Allie smiled. "I suppose that might even be part of it, but so what?"

He stepped back and cupped her face in his long hands. "Your mind's made up?" "Uh-huh. And I won't change it."

"Okay, but I think we better wait a few days before I move in. I made a commitment on this suite that's more than a deal with a hotel. The manager's a client of mine, heavily into blue-chip stocks. I've gotta take this one slow."

She looked puzzled for a moment. Disappointed. Then she said, "All right, Sam."

He leaned down and kissed her forehead, somewhat ashamed of his influence on her. "It's only a couple of days. You understand, don't you?"

"Sure." She gave him an up-and-down look. "You look nice. On your way somewhere?"

"Lunch with a bond client who's big on tax-free mutual funds." He glanced at his watch. "He's supposed to meet me here any minute, in fact."

She took the hint. Moved close to him and kissed him lightly on the lips. He ran the backs of his knuckles lightly down her cheek. He said, "Call me tonight and let me know how things work out." "Will you come over later?"

"I can't. Dinner with the same client. He and his wife are in town from Omaha. They're going back tomorrow morning, so there won't be any other opportunity to wine and dine them seriously for Elcane-Smith." He shrugged and shook his head. "Business. I'm sorry, Allie. Really."

"There'll be plenty of time for us," she said. She kissed him on the lips and went out, giving him a backward glance full of promise. The apartment would be their own exclusive playpen again. Like a couple of teenagers alone in Mom and Dad's house. Allie, Allie.

As she stepped off the elevator into the Atherton lobby, Allie stopped and stood still for a second.

A sweet, familiar scent, but one she couldn't quite place, floated on the air like a memory.

Then she realized it was a perfume she often wore. Someone wearing the same scent had just passed, or stepped into the other elevator to go up.

She walked on through the narrow lobby and exited on West 44th Street.