Free The Best of Everything by Rona Jaffe Page B

get a chance to tliank him."
    Caroline glanced at Mike and for an instant their eyes met. She expected to find a look of amusement there, or at the least his habitual cynicism, but instead to her surprise she found a look of caution.
    "You can tell him tomorrow," he said.
    "Of course," April murmured. She sat down at her place at the table again and began to toy with her gloves, not quite sure if they were expected to leave now or stay.
    Mike beckoned to the waitress and pointed at their glasses. Caroline sat down too. For a minute none of them could think of anything to say. "You have to understand Mr. Shalimar," Mike said finally.
    There was something about Mike Rice that Caroline liked; she felt she could say anything to him and he would never be shocked or think she was getting out of her place. "Maybe I'm way out of

    line," she said, "but I had the feeling he's had a comedown and he's ashamed of it. The way he talks about the past all the time and about what he was."
    "You might as well know it," Mike said, "I suspect you're going to be around a long time. It isn't as if he's had a comedown from anything. He's never been anywhere."
    "But all the people he's known . . ." Caroline said. "The stories he tells . . . Why, he never stops talking about Eugene O'Neill."
    There was not a trace of a smile on Mike's face, only a look of great pity. It was odd, Caroline thought, that a man in the shape he was in should feel sorry for someone like Mr. Shalimar. 'Tou know how it is when people talk all the time about some celebrity," he said. "Mr. Shalimar knows Eugene O'Neill, but Eugene O'Neill doesn't know him."
    "My gosh!" April said, biting her thumb.
    "Be nice girls," Mike said. "Forget I ever opened my mouth. But treat Mr. Shalimar with all the respect you have at your command. He's a very bitter man, but he has cause. It's a dreadful thing to know you're fifty-five years old and you have to worry all the time about losing a job that isn't even good enough for you."
    "Why should he lose his job?" Caroline asked.
    "Bright young people. People like you, for instance. Kids with ambition, who write brilliant reports out of sheer instinct. A man who has to live in a past that never really was is afraid of a lot of things."
    "But not of me?" Caroline said incredulously.
    "Not you now, no. Right now you're nothing to him. But you in another two years—ah, that's a different story. Listen to him. Pay attention and respect him when he teaches you anything about the business you're in. Don't think you're smart. Just listen, and remember."
    He had begun to slur his words, and Caroline realized that he was, finally, very drunk. He pulled a handful of crumpled bills out of his pocket and dropped them on to the table. "This'll pay for the drinks and probably a sandwich for you two kids," he said. He put his hands flat on the table and assisted himself to his feet. "See you tomorrow."
    "Oh, thank you very much, Mr. Rice," April said.
    "Yes, thank you," Caroline murmured. She was troubled, and

    thinking. She didn't want to be a success if that meant watching out for people with dark Hves who were afraid of you for no reason you could fathom. This morning she had been afraid even to speak to Mr. Shalimar, this evening he was fondling her leg and she was being told that someday he would be afraid of her. She was thinking that she didn't like the working world at all, and yet, underneath, she was exhilarated. It was all like a dream in which you could have anything you wanted, if you were very very careful.
    Mike Rice leaned over and touched her eyebrows where they were drawn together. His fingers were very gentle. "Did I say, 'Don't think you're smart'?" he said. "I'll tell you something: I'll amend it. Don't let anyone know you think you're smart. Because you know something? You're damn smart." He patted her cheek and walked off swiftly, making an obvious effort to walk straight, his camel's-hair coat tossed askew over one shoulder like a