Anthony Scott - Ladies of Chance

Lowdown doings in a high society setting bring adventure to these fascinating characters:

ED BARLOW, an ace reporter who was rough, tough and hard as nails but soft on a gang-girl who tripped him with a smile.

CHERRY MALONE, a hard-to-get cutie who ran Ed ragged in a trigger-quick romance that got too hot to handle.

DOLLY, Eds old flame, who was in the kind of trouble Ed couldnt resist...

MRS. LUCILE TRAVERS, a society temptress who had Ed coming and going until he fell into a booby-trap set by the underworld.

STORMY PARKER, whose gambling-den was a front for the most vicious racket that ever men-aced the female sex.

HARRY GREEN, a crook who payed a gun-mans game and got himself a hole in the head.

SANDRA, the seductive woman of mystery whom Ed met face to face at last!

I didnt have any idea what I was walking into when I knocked on the door of the Meade apartment that afternoon. I had hesitated a long time about accepting Hermans invitation to drop in on his wife while he was out of town, finally deciding that Dolly couldnt bore me any more than I was already bored.

Thats why I was half-way glad there wasnt any response to my rap. Id scribble a note and tuck it under the door and that would be that.

I didnt rap again, my sense of duty being placated by the first unanswered rap.

I heard a woman sobbing while I scribbled the note. It sounded as though it was coming from the Meade apartment.

A monotonous, dismal sort of sobbing. No shrillness and no hint of hysteria. The sobbing of a woman whos reached the end of her rope.

Dont ask me how I knew. Thats what the sound made me think of. A tabloid reporter gets to be a connoisseur of feminine sobs.

I stopped scribbling and listened. It was coming from inside the apartment.

I tried the door and it was locked. I listened to that monotone of sobs and tried to make up my mind that it was none of my business.

I got far enough in that direction to turn around and take two steps toward the landing. Then turned back and rapped on the door hard.

I got action this time. The sobs turned to a snuffle. I heard someone moving inside the apartment. The door opened just as I rapped again.

Dolly didnt know me at first. She was clutching a silk negligee together and her red eyes stared at me blankly.

I guess I stared back just as blankly. It was Dolly Meade but what a hell of a change three years had made. Her blonde curls were mussy and her cheeks were red and puffed. Her curls had been devilishly enticing the last time I saw her, her cheeks pink and plump.

I stepped in the door and she backed away from me. What...?

Its Ed Barlow, I told her. Turn off the waterworks and give me the glad hand for old times sake.

I didnt know what was happening to her. Her face expressed too many mingled emotions for any of them to be clear.

She let go the negligee and threw her hot arms around my neck. Her hug and kiss of welcome was stickily enthusiastic.

I kicked the door shut with my heel and let her hang on my neck, already cursing myself for knocking that second time.

I untangled her at last, figuring Id put myself on the spot and might as well take it if I couldnt like it. Dolly fell back on an overstuffed lounge and watched me with wide-open eyes while I opened the windows wider and pulled the drapes back.

Ed. She said my name as though testing out something when I came back and flopped in a chair not too close to her.

The same, I smiled paternally. Long time no see, Dolly. That sort of chatter passes for smart repartee in Dollys crowd.

Its been years and years, Ed. She made it sound as though it meant a lot more than it did.

Three, to be exact. I met your husband on Flagler Street by chance this morning. He was on his way to catch a train. Seemed to think it would be all right if I dropped around to cheer you up while hes out of town.

Of course, Ed. Dolly was getting her provocative smile in working order. It didnt go over very big considering the mess her face was in. She reminded me of a street-walking floosie going coy after too much sweet wine. Are you still working on the Newark scandal sheet?

Thats where I had known the Meades three years ago. I lied to her with the same song and dance Id given Herman that morning:

Ive quit the newspaper game cold. Free-lancing now. Story-writing to you.

How thrilling. She sounded about as thrilled as a dead codfish.

Isnt it?

I lit a cigarette and Dolly held out her hand for one. I saw tears beginning to well up in her blue eyes while I lit it for her. I didnt have any stomach for acting as the buffer between a misunderstood wife and her hubby, so I muttered some excuse about running on and started for the door.

Dolly jumped up and grabbed my hand. The tears receded when she forgot about the effect she was trying to make.

You cant run away like this. Weve got so much to talk about.

Have we?

Dont be mean, Ed. She pouted out her lips and pulled me toward the kitchen.

I felt as though a drink would hit the spot, and weakly followed her. I remembered the grade of liquor Herman used to keep on hand.

It was just as good as ever and Dolly mixed just as lousy a drink as ever. Shes one of those women who recap a bottle of ginger ale and put it back in the refrigerator for future reference. I almost gagged over my first drink made her open a fresh bottle of ginger ale for the second one.

Then we were back in the too-lavishly furnished parlor. I had an uneasy feeling that Dolly was nerving herself to spring something on me. She kept breaking off her sentences in the middle, and whenever I looked away and back quickly, I caught her watching me with strained intensity.

Then she began crying. I moved over to the couch beside her and patted her hand.

I asked her what the hell was eating her, and she blubbered something I couldnt understand. Her head was on my shoulder and I was getting soaked. I pushed her away and got up.

To hell with this. If youre going to put on a crying jag, Ill beat it.

She grabbed my hand and moaned, No. For Gods sake dont go, Ed.

Why not? I pulled away from her.

She jumped up and got in front of me. Tears were running down her cheeks. She looked like hell. I pushed her aside and started for the door.

She caught me from behind. You cant leave me, Ed. Not... alone here.

I turned around and gave her the once-over. There was a funny note in her voice. It didnt sound like a crying jag. More like incipient hysteria. And not too incipient. I said:

Be reasonable, Baby. You know what I came up here for. If youre not in a mood for it, thats all right. But Im not going to stick around and get wept over.

She pulled herself together a little. She managed to look coy even with her face blowsy from tears. Maybe Ill be in the mood after awhile, Ed.

There was something of furtive desperation in her manner that made me keep my hand off the doorknob.

I stepped close to her and asked: What the hells it all about, Dolly? You act as if youre scared stiff.

I... I am.

Of what?

She wrung her hands and moaned.

I went over and sprawled out in a chair resignedly. So this is what marriage has done to you?

Its... its... oh Ed! I cant tell you.

Take another drink, I suggested. The green lizards will chase the white elephants away and there wont be anything to be afraid of.

She mixed us both another drink, spilling some liquor on the rug. I lit a cigarette while I waited for her to bring mine, flipped the matchstick toward the closed bathroom door.