Cockfighter - Charles Ray Willeford [40]
“Is that all he's going to play, Bernice?” the doctor asked. “I'd like to hear more.”
“I think we all would,” his fat wife echoed.
I shrugged, and joined Tommy at the bar for another drink.
“No, that's enough,” Bernice said. “Mr. Mansfield has been playing all evening and he's tired. We shouldn't coax him. The concert is all over. Go on home. You've been fed, you've had your drinks, now go on home.”
Bernice herded the two wives out of the room to get their wraps, and their husbands joined Tommy and me at the bar for a nightcap.
“You play very well, young man,” Dr. McGuire said. “Did you ever play on television?”
I shook my head, and added Scotch to my glass to cut the soda.
“I think you should consider television, don't you, Tommy?”
“Not really, sir,” Tommy wrinkled his brow. “I'm not so sure that the mass audience is ready for classical guitar music. I'm trying to recall, but I can't remember ever hearing or seeing a string quartet on television. If I did, I can't remember it.”
“By God, I haven't either!” the doctor said strongly. “And certainly the string quartet is the most civilized entertainment in the world! Don't you agree, Mr. Mansfield?”
I shrugged my shoulders inside my jacket, and lit a cigarette.
He didn't want a reply, anyway. “But there's a definite need for serious music on TV,” he continued. “And, by God, the public should be forced to listen! No matter how stupid people are today, they can be taught to appreciate good music.” He banged his fist on the bar.
The two middle-aged men drained their glasses quickly as Bernice came into the room, and turned to join their wives in the foyer. Bernice crossed the room, and placed a hand on my arm. So far, she had never missed a chance to touch me.
“Mrs. McGuire would like to know if you'd consent to play for her guests next Saturday night. She's giving a party quite a large one, and she's willing to—”
I shook my head, and crushed out my cigarette in a white Cinzano ashtray.
“It's 'no,' then?”
I nodded. She smiled, turned away and returned to the foyer to say good night to her guests and break the news to Mrs. McGuire.
“Tell me something, Mr. Mansfield,” Tommy said hesitantly. “Did you really study under Segovia?”
I grinned, and shook my head. After setting my glass down, I picked up my guitar case. Tommy laughed, throwing his head back.
“I didn't think you did, but I'll keep your secret till the day I die.”
Bernice Hungerford returned with a smile brightening her jolly face. I didn't know why, but I was attracted to this graceful, pleasant woman. She appeared to be so happy, so eager to please, and yet, there were tiny, tragic lines tugging at the corners of her full lips.
“I'll drive Mr. Mansfield back into town, Auntie,” Tommy said.
“Oh, no you won't!” Bernice said cheerfully. She took the guitar case out of my hand and placed it on the couch. “I'll drive him back myself. You can just run along, Tommy. I'm going to fix Mr. Mansfield something to eat—you could eat something, couldn't you?”
I shrugged, then smiled. She hadn't paid the twenty dollars yet, and I could always eat something. The cold buffet supper, however, didn't appeal to me. There were several choices of lunch meat, cold pork, three different cheese dips and pickles. I looked distastefully at the buffet table.
“Now, don't you worry.” Bernice said, patting my arm with her small, white hand. “I won't make you eat the remains of the cold supper. I'll fix you some ham and eggs.”
“Me, too, Auntie dear?” Tommy grinned.
“No, not you. Don't you have a job of some kind to report to in the morning?”
Tommy groaned. “Don't remind me. Well, good night, Mr. Mansfield.” He shook hands with me, brushed his lips against his aunt's cheek and made his departure from the room. A few moments later the lights of his Olds flashed on the picture window as he made the semicircle to the street.
Now that we were alone in the big house, Bernice's composure suddenly disappeared. She blushed furiously under my level stare, and then took my hand. “Come on,” she said