Free Chocolates for Breakfast by Pamela Moore Page B

Levi’s, worn low on her hips, would allow, summoned up her fifteen (nearly sixteen) years of sophistication, and walked in. She looked falteringly around the dim and almost empty bar. The white-haired bartender looked up—disapprovingly, Courtney thought.
    â€œI . . . was looking for someone,” she said in a clear and defiant voice. “Is Barry Cabot here?”
    â€œHel- lo , sweetie.” He got the full value of the words, speaking in a soft and rich voice. “Come have a Coke with me, Court.”
    â€œBarry—I didn’t see you.” She was intensely self-conscious. “I came over to ask you to dinner with Mummy and me. She sent me over.” She was regaining her poise, and was very excited that she was in a bar with Barry Cabot; she felt terribly adult.
    â€œI would love to have dinner with you and Mummy,” he smiled. “But have a Coke while I finish my drink.”
    Courtney paused, but only for a moment. It wasn’t as though the Thespian was a bar , for Chrissake, it was a quiet little place where everyone went. Families and all that. And her mother would know where she was, and she would only be a few minutes drinking her Coke, anyway.
    â€œOkay,” she said. “Thank you.” And she sat beside him at the bar.
    â€œA Coke for the young lady, Pete. And another of the same for me.”
    â€œI have to get back to tell Mummy you can come,” she said.
    â€œIt will take me about three minutes to drink that martini.”
    Courtney nodded reluctantly.
    â€œCigarette, Courtney?”
    â€œYes, please.” She was going to hell fast, as Janet would say. But no, Janet would be pleased.
    He lit her cigarette, solemnly holding the match until she finally took a long enough drag to get it lit. He quickly blew the match out because it was burning his finger. There was no reaction on his face as she took a long and obviously determined drag and exhaled it immediately.
    â€œI’ve heard a great deal about you,” he said. “I’ve been anxious to meet you for quite a while.”
    â€œMummy’s told me about you, too.” Yes, her mother had told her that Barry was a near-alcoholic and a homosexual. She had also told her that Barry was very charming. The rest meant nothing to Courtney.
    â€œYour mother is quite a woman.”
    â€œYes, she’s a fabulous person.”
    There was a silence. The bartender brought the martini and the Coke. Barry lit a cigarette. He started to hum.
    â€œBored?” Courtney said coolly. It was a line her mother used.
    â€œNo, no, sweetie. Not at all.”
    He shifted in his chair.
    There was a sudden burst of laughter from one of the tables in the corner.
    â€œAnd of course,” said a woman’s throaty voice, “the part that Marilyn had in that last picture she could have phoned in. Phoned it in, for God’s sake.” The two men at the table laughed.
    â€œPete,” Barry said, “another martini.”
    â€œA Coke for you, Miss?”
    â€œNo thanks, I haven’t finished this one.”
    There was another silence.
    â€œAnd the scene that George made when he found out,” said an effeminate man’s voice. “Christ, you could hear him for blocks. As though it hadn’t happened before.”
    â€œBesides,” said the other man, “everyone knows that he screws all his clients.”
    So that’s what screw means, thought Courtney. No wonder Miss Rosen objected to my using it. Conservative little woman. She smiled.
    â€œWhat are you thinking about?” asked Barry.
    â€œNothing in particular,” Courtney said.
    â€œHow do you like it out here?” Barry said finally.
    â€œOh, I adore it!” Her green eyes were intense. “It’s a marvelous fairylike town. Unreal. Of course, its unreality is kind of frightening after a while. It’s the only town I’ve ever been in where I would wake up in the morning