“Okay. It was just that I was under the impression that this was going to be built in Arizona.”
“Yes, sir. Would you like to meet your staff now?”
“Staff?”
“Yes, sir.”
I figured that if I met my soldering-iron crew at this point, they’d likely think that I was a mumbling idiot, and they’d be right.
“Uh, no. Barb, I’m pretty far into stimulus saturation.”
“As you wish, sir. Perhaps you would like dinner.”
She kept looking at me straight in the eyes, sort of eager and switching her gaze from one eye to another. It kind of scared me. I mean, look, I’d been in the Fat Boy’s Club at Westover Field, and I’d put on fifty pounds since leaving the service. I was sort of pudgy. Make that fat. I was completely hairless and my skin was still pretty blotchy. And while I’ve never been quite sure what the typical American woman wanted, a long series of hard knocks had taught me that whatever it is, it ain’t me. Girls just don’t look at me like that. And certainly not the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.
“Yeah. Sure. I could use a bite to eat.” I tried grinning back at her and Barb looked ecstatic.
“Very good, sir. The banquet hall is this way.”
“Banquet? No. No. Please, Barb, just, just something small and informal.”
“As you wish, sir. Anything in particular? Polish? Syrian? Chinese?”
“Chinese, I guess.”
“Yes sir. The Confucian Room is this way.”
Barb led me through an entrance hall that would have put a Hyatt hotel to shame, and then down a long corridor.
It was obvious that the building had been built with me in mind. All of the doorways were at least eight feet high, and all of the furniture was properly oversized.
She led me into a candle lit room. It was decorated with a lot of jade, Ming dynasty, maybe, and what looked like Shang bronze work. It was all imitation, of course, because it all looked new. The window overlooked an enclosed garden that was more Japanese than Chinese, but the total effect was stunning.
Also stunning was the tiny Oriental girl who was kneeling at my feet undoing my shoelaces. After that she started taking off the rest of my clothes. For a while there I wasn’t sure when she was going to stop undressing me, but I was soon led—barefoot, and without my tie or jacket—to a low table.
Barb was still standing at the door, like she was waiting for something.
“Would you, uh, care to join me?” I said.
And Barb was grinning ecstatically again.
Our ninety-pound waitress (maid?) (servant?) was named Ming Po. I let Barb order the meal, since I’d been getting along mostly on Big Macs and Gallo Paisano, which didn’t seem to be quite appropriate. I missed the name of the wine Barb picked, but Mr. Gallo has some catching up to do.
Ming Po had this habit of kneeling behind a pierced screen, watching to see if we wanted anything. When she went to get the food, I said to Barb, “You know, she’s as pretty as that ballerina on the plane.”
“Yes, sir.” She was dead cold again. “You must mean Gloria McCluskey.”
“I didn’t catch her name.”
“She’s an awful social climber.”
That sort of killed conversation until halfway through the meal. I was all out of things to say, and I finally figured out that Barb didn’t feel free to speak until spoken to.
“Look, you mentioned a staff. Could you tell me about it?” I said.
“Yes, sir. There are nine personal secretaries. . . .”
“Nine? You mean I have a whole steno pool?”
“No, sir. The steno pool comes under the administrative section of your laboratory. That’s not under my jurisdiction. You have nine secretaries.”
“Uh, why so many?”
“To maintain continuity, sir. We were told that you preferred to work rather long and irregular hours. With nine, we can offer you three shifts a day, with each woman working four days on and two days off. This allows for two secretaries on duty at all times.”
“Like, I need a typist sitting outside my bedroom door?”
“If you wish, sir. Or we can change the schedule if you prefer.”
“Uh, no. Let it ride.” There have been times when I was hot on the track of something and worked thirty hours straight, and I guess that that’s a bit much to ask somebody else to do. Anyway, I’d hate to make some girl lose her job.
“So, who else do I have?”
“In the household staff, there are forty-five each in food services and housekeeping.”
“Twenty people on duty all the time? That means that I’ve got—what—ninety-nine people here?”
“There are a hundred on the inside staff, including myself, sir.”
“Wow. And you’re the only one who is not available at all hours?”
“But I am, sir. I don’t sleep. It’s the main reason that I was able to get this position.”
I’d heard of people like that, but I’d never met one before. Another thought hit me halfway through the Peking duck.
“Say, you mean to tell me that an hour ago, there were a hundred people spruced up and lined up to shake my hand?”
“One hundred twenty-nine, sir. There are thirty more on the gardening staff. Would you like me to call them back?”
“Uh, no. No. I’ll meet them all eventually. I’m just not used to this kind of attention. I can’t understand why it was decided to blow so much money on these palaces.”
“I suppose it’s relative, sir. The cost of constructing, furnishing and maintaining these three ‘palaces’ was less than one percent of our total budget for your facility.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I kept quiet.
Toward midnight, Barb showed me the way to the Master’s bedroom. Catch that? Not the master bedroom. Apostrophe Ess. There were two more women in the bedroom. One was my adolescent dream. The other was better looking.
“Sir, these are Michelle and Carolyn,” Barb said.
More embarrassing bows, handshakes and inane words.
“I think that that will be all for tonight, girls,” Barb said.
As they went out, Michelle gave Barb a look that would have flattened a boar hog.
I was sitting on the frame of the massive waterbed, taking my shirt off, when I noticed Barb standing in the doorway, like she was waiting for something.
I figured that she couldn’t leave without permission. We might as well get it over with. Best to let the girl leave and get some rest. I was used to being rejected.
“Would you, uh, care to join me?” I said.
And Barb was all ecstatic-looking again.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A Surfeit of Ladies
That night was indescribable, and I’m going to leave it that way except to say that I’d been celibate for a year and I darned nearly made up for it in one night.
I woke up the next morning with Barb sleeping on my arm. On an ordinary bed, that would have meant a numb arm, but waterbeds have their good points.
There was a glorious smile on Barb’s face. It was as if she was in the middle of a beautiful dream, so I didn’t want to wake her. Hell, I was the one who had to be dreaming. Then I remembered that Barb said that she didn’t sleep.
“Uh, Barb.”
Eyes open. “Yes, Tom.”
Last night I’d told her to knock off that “sir” stuff and to spread the word about it.
“Uh, I guess I should have asked you last night. Are you safe?”
“I suppose so, Tom.” Somehow, she made my name sound like “sir.” “Why? Are we under attack?”
“Uh, no. I mean with contraceptives.”
“Oh. No. I just went off the pill and I’m at the peak of my cycle.” She stretched her arms and looked unbelievable happy. “I was so glad that you wanted me last night. There’s a sixty percent chance that I’ve conceived your child.”
Shit.
I’m rich one day and already I’ve got a gold digger on my hands. Christ, I’m dumb. Like, why else would a chick who was this beautiful, this intelligent, and this classy want a bald, oversized jelly belly like me?
“Damnit, don’t you think that you should have told me?”
“But, you didn’t ask!” She looked surprised, then her face started to crumble.
“Dammit! That’s one hell of a low-rent stunt!”
She laid on the bed, quietly crying. I rolled out of the waterbed, got up, and tried to find my clothes. Damn. Somebody had snuck in while I was sleeping and swiped my clothes. They’d swiped my wallet and keys and sword and everything. My driver’s license and calculator and everything.
Somebody had hid my stuff on top of the dresser. Sneaky bastards, anyway. I rummaged through an oversized chest of drawers hunting up the socks and undershorts I was sure they would have put there.