U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [514]
"Maybe," said Margo and asked how much they'd al ow her if she traded in the Buick. The attendant cal ed the boss, a toadfaced young man with a monogram on his silk shirt. He and Margo argued back and forth for an hour about the price. Tony tried driving the car and said it ran like a dream. He was al pepped up at the idea of driv-ing a Rol s, even an old one. In the end the man took the Buick and five hundred dol ars in tendol ar weekly payments. They signed the contract then and there, Margo gave Judge Cassidy's and Tad Whittlesea's names as ref-erences; they changed the plates and drove home that night in the Rol s-Royce to Santa Monica where they were living at the time. As they turned into Santa Monica
-396-Boulevard at Beverly Hil s, Margo said carelessly, " Tony, isn't that mailed hand holding a sword very much like the coatofarms of the Counts de Garrido?""These people out here are so ignorant they wouldn't know the differ-ence," said. Tony. "We'l just leave it there," said Margo.
"Sure," said Tony, "it looks good." The other extras surely stared when Tony in his trim grey uniform drove her down to the lot next day, but Margo kept her pokerface. "It's just the old family bus," she said when a girl asked her about it. "It's been in hock."
"Is that your mother?" the girl asked again, pointing with her thumb at Agnes who was driving away sitting up
dressed in her best black in the back of the huge shiny car with her nose in the air. "Oh, no," said Margo coldly.
"That's my companion."
Plenty of men tried to date Margo up, but they were mostly extras or cameramen or propertymen or carpenters and she and Agnes didn't see that it would do her any good to mix up with them. It was a lonely life after al the friends and the guys crazy about her and the business deals and everything in Miami. Most nights she and Agnes just played Russian bank or threehanded bridge if Tony was in and not too il tempered to accommodate. Sometimes they went to the movies or to the beach if it was warm enough. They drove out through the crowds on Hol y-wood Boulevard nights when there was an opening at Grauman's Chinese Theater. The Rol s looked so fancy and Margo stil had a good eveningdress not too far out of style so that everybody thought they were filmstars. One dusty Saturday afternoon in midwinter Margo was feeling particularly desperate because styles had changed so she couldn't wear her old dresses any more and didn't have any money for new; she jumped up from her seat knocking the pack of solitaire cards onto the floor and shouted to Agnes that she had to have a little blowout or she'd go crazy. Agnes said why didn't they drive to Palm
-397-Springs to see the new resort hotel. They'd eat dinner there if it wouldn't set them back too much and then spend the night at a touristcamp down near the Salton Sea. Give them a chance to get the chil of the Los Angeles fog out of their bones. When they got to Palm Springs Agnes thought every-thing looked too expensive and wanted to drive right on, but Margo felt in her element right away. Tony was in his uniform and had to wait for them in the car. He looked so black in the face Margo thought he'd burst when she told him to go and get himself some supper at a dog-wagon, but he didn't dare answer back because the doorman was right there.
They'd been to the ladies' room to freshen their faces up and were walking up and down under the big date-palms looking at the people to see if they could recognize any movie actors, when Margo heard a voice that was familiar. A dark thinfaced man in white serge who was chatting with an importantlooking baldheaded Jewish gen-tleman was staring at her. He left his friend and came up. He had a stiff walk like an officer reviewing a company drawn up at attention. "Miss Dowling," he said, "how very lucky for both of us." Margo looked smiling into the twitching sal ow face with dark puffs under the eyes.
"You're the photographer," she said.