want to dance with me?”
Julie bit her lip, and then smiled suddenly. “Of course I did. But it’s difficult to relax when you know the whole community is watching you, speculatively.”
“Is that so?” Manuel glanced around. “So what? Let them stare. I’m used to it.”
“Yes, but I’m not.” Julie missed a step and stumbled ignominiously. “You see!” she exclaimed, her cheeks flushed.
Manuel smiled down at her. “Come on, then. I’ll get you a drink instead.”
Julie looked at him. “You don’t have to.”
Manuel’s face was a little grim suddenly. “No, I know. I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.”
Julie shrugged, and walked with him across the floor to the bar.
He ordered champagne for her and whisky for himself, then offered her a cigarette. After they had both lit cigarettes, he said:
“I guess that guy you came with will be blowing his top just now.”
Julie started. For a moment she had forgotten Paul. “Oh, yes,” she said contritely. “Perhaps I ought to …”
“Forget it.” Manuel looked bored. “Stop worrying over other people. Enjoy yourself.”
Julie shrugged. “I happen to care what Paul thinks,” she replied coolly.
“Do you? Are you engaged or something?”
“No, not exactly. But it’s understood.”
“I see.” Manuel swallowed his drink decisively. “Do you like this kind of affair?”
“Why?”
“Well, it kills me. You get guys like Parrish trying to associate with guys like this Paul, and you know damn nicely that come Monday morning it’ll be back to status symbols again.”
Julie gave him a quick glance. “That’s very cynical, Mr. Cortez.”
“I guess I am,” he said, shrugging. “Anyway, let’s chuck this subject. Do you want another drink?” Julie shook her head, and he ordered another whisky for himself. Swallowing half of it, he continued: “And don’t you get the yen to enter the world of the cornflake commercials?”
“What? Oh, you mean television,” Julie smiled. “Not really. Besides, what could I do? I don’t sing or dance, and I’m not much good on a typewriter.”
Manuel smiled, and leaned back against the bar, elbows resting on the counter. “There are ways and means,” he said. “A beautiful girl like you shouldn’t find it too difficult. …”
“If you mean what I think you do, you can forget it,” exclaimed Julie hotly. “I wouldn’t sell myself for television stardom.”
“Women sell themselves for a lot less than that,” remarked Manuel Cortez shrewdly.
Julie moved restlessly. “I think I ought to go.”
“Why? Have I shocked you? Surely not. You must know what goes on.”
Julie refused to answer him. Stubbing out her cigarette, she looked up at him with raised eyebrows, but her haughty expression cut no ice with Manuel Cortez.
“Excuse me,” she said abruptly, and leaving him, she walked swiftly away across the floor. It did not occur to her until she reached Paul and saw his shocked face that she had done anything out of the ordinary.
“Julie!” he exclaimed, in a horrified voice. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”
Julie flushed. “Yes. I’ve just walked away from a man who treated me as though I were little better than a … a …” She sought about in her mind for a word to use. “Well, he was most objectionable.”
Paul frowned. “In what way?”
“His conversation. Oh,” Julie sighed irritatedly, “not only that. His attitude as well. I can’t explain exactly.”
What she couldn’t explain to Paul was that despite his manner she still found him attractive, and that was annoying her more than anything else.
“Could we go?”
Paul was looking nervously across at Neil Parrish, who had walked across to join Manuel Cortez. He seemed distraught. “What? Go? Oh, yes, if you want to. In fact I think it might be best.” He pushed her unceremoniously out of the door. “Goodness knows what Mr. Parrish will have to say on Monday morning.”
Julie was reminded of Manuel’s remarks as Paul spoke. He had been right, of course, and probably about other things as well.
“Well, why were you so long anyway?” she asked. “I was waiting ages. I thought you’d got lost.”
“I’ll explain when we get to the car. Go get your coat, Julie.”
The little Austin was cold and a trifle damp inside, but the heater soon warmed them up. Paul drove slowly now. It was still quite early and Julie’s parents didn’t expect them home for a couple of hours yet.
“Now, tell me about the chauffeur,” said Julie.
Paul grimaced. “Well, actually, it wasn’t just the chauffeur who was waiting. There was this female, you see.”
“A woman? Did you know her?”
“Actually yes. It was Dolores Arriviera, the dancer. You may have heard of her.”
“Oh, yes. Hasn’t she been appearing at the Talk of the Town?”
“That’s right. Well, she was waiting for Cortez and when I tried to explain what had delayed him she threw the most ghastly tantrum and demanded to be taken up to him at once.” Paul gave a heavy sigh. “Gosh, I was flummoxed. I didn’t know what to do. But Neil Parrish had made it plain that he didn’t want her to come up, so there I was. It took me ages to calm her down, and even then she was seething like a wild cat. Lord, she’s really something when she’s roused!”
“Is she beautiful?”
“Lord, yes! She has very bright hair, almost red but not quite, and she wears it parted Madonna style and caught in a chignon on her neck. Her eyes are like Cortez’ himself, Spanish eyes, I suppose you might call them, and she was wearing the most gorgeous mink coat.”
Julie laughed. “You were certainly impressed! I bet you couldn’t tell me in such detail what Jane was wearing this evening.”
“I guess I couldn’t at that,” he said, and relaxed a little. “But honestly, Julie, imagine leaving a creature like that to wait while you attended some dreary dinner dance … or should I say buffet dance!”
“Well, it wasn’t exactly dreary.”
“No, but you know what I mean. The comparison, and so on. Still, I guess he knows she’s mad about him, and
