excolocrack | This month's star title: Set-Up For Scandal!

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pulp fictions

This month's star title: Set-Up For Scandal!

In the last installment...

June 1961 - Val flirts with James in front of Ted, but James manages to make it seem like he's after Val's job so Val shows him the door. James compounds his error by badmouthing Ted and Val to Beryl and Kate, and then seeming to hit on Genny. Bad day for James! Ted decides to ask out Genny to annoy James, and Genny, Val, Ted and Beryl all go out for dinner to discuss plans for a detective romance series. Meanwhile, Syl and Al go out for drinks and end up in bed together. And Kate and Tess go out dancing, where Tess is confronted by her ex-girlfriend - but Kate doesn't seem worried by what this tells her about Tess.

Friday, July 7th, 1961, the office

So Monday started with hearing that Ernest Hemingway had died on Sunday, and that's set the tone for the week. I've had a headache for two solid days that's only just starting to fade, mostly due to a printing crisis with one of our runs. Let's just say that in three places the word "duck" didn't start with a d... The censors are getting pretty strict about obscenities these days, so that started my headache, and then I had the usual author-induced stresses.

At least this detective romance we're putting together seems like it's got legs. I'm looking at the cover Genny's drawn. The streetlamp's got a good glow to it, and she's managed to make the lady sexy and wholesome at the same time - not easy. The guy's just your average lantern-jawed gumshoe, but that's fine. And Beryl's put together a good story, though I've got a few suggestions for amendments. She's a cooperative sort, though, so I don't mind meeting with her, unlike some of our writers. And I have to admit she's easy on the eye, which is a good distraction from my other emotional woes...

I loosen my collar, because it's a hot day. I'm dreading August. Hope I'll get away for a couple of weeks because the city will be unbearable. It's not the best night for black tie, but I'll be sweating in a tuxedo anyway because this evening there's the Popular Fiction Publishing Awards, which everyone in the pulp game in NYC goes to - less for the prizes and more for the canapes and the gossip. There's always gossip. Me, I'm just going to enjoy the free champagne.

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"We're about eighteen years too late for my senior prom, or of course I'd get you a corsage." 'e smiles, an'I laugh.

"Di'n't never go t'm'own prom," I smirk, leaning back 'gainst th'wall, "Least we won't hafta bother wit' spikin' th'punch."

"Much as a tux suits you, definitely not. This is not a, hm, groundbreaking kind of evening at all. If you did want to come, I'd be happy to help you find a dress. My ex-wife always did say I had an eye for these things."

Well, wuzn't th'way I planned on spendin' th'night, 'at's fer sure. But'en, I know Alex wouldn't've asked me if'n'e di'n't want me t'come. 'e ain't allat much ferrese bowin'n scrapin' affairs...might jes' want some comp'ny. Annat's th'sorta thin't friends do fer each other, ain't't? "Y'might havva bit ovva time wit' me. No tits, no hips...an'I ain't been dress shoppin' since....well, I jes' ain't." Smirk attim'n fish a cig outta m'pocket. "But sure, Alex. 'll got witcha."

I smile at her.

"Good," I say. "It will be nice to have a friend on my arm." It's more relaxing than having to ask some girl from the typing pool who'll spend the evening trying to flirt with me. I can't really be bothered with that these days. "Drink?" I say, watching her light up. "And you can tell me what you've been up to for the last couple of weeks, aside from writing that," I say, nodding at the folder.

Alex seems right pleased't I agreed, an'I grin back attim. "Drink?"

"Hell yes," I says, smilin' wider, an'I pass'im m'pack'a cigs. "Ain't never gonna refuse a drink outta yer cab'net. You c'n afford a way better class'a booze'n I can."

"And you can tell me what you've been up to for the last couple of weeks, aside from writing that," 'e says while'e pours.

I shrug. "Not allat much, really." I says, takin' th'glass from'is hand. "Still nothin' from Caldwell. Pretty much given up onnat front." Ain't really upset. Jes' wish she hadn't acted int'rested if'n she wuzn't. "Otherwise been really concentratin' on m'writin'. S'like that when'm workin' onna good story." I grin. "Gotta givvat airhead some credit; gavvus a really fine idea ferra book."

"Still nothin' from Caldwell. Pretty much given up onnat front."

"Good," I say frankly. "You liked her too much for it to work, I think. I can't see her giving anyone her heart, can you?" I take a cigarette and light it, then find my bottle of bourbon and pour us both glasses.

"Gotta givvat airhead some credit; gavvus a really fine idea ferra book."

I raise my glass.

"I'll drink to that," I say, and swallow.

"Good," Alex says, so flat out't's kinda startlin'. "You liked her too much for it to work, I think. I can't see her giving anyone her heart, can you?"

"I di'n't know," I snort, "s'why I bloody asked'er out, t'get t'know'er better. An' now't I do, know't won't work." Still hurts some, an' still wish she'd been bloody straight wit' me. But live'n learn, I guess.

Alex pours's both some bourbon, an' we drink t'm'new book. I lick th'sweet bourbon from m'lips 'n smirk, "So, when we goin' shoppin'? If'n th'wards're t'night, we don't got allat much time t'prepare."

"I doubt Miss Caldwell tells anyone what she's really thinking," I say. And then Syl asks when we're going shopping, and I look her up and down.

"I would guess you're an 8, yes? Let me make a call..." I press the intercom. "Miss Desmet, would you get me the Bloomingdale's women's department on the line? I want to speak to Winnie." I tuck the receiver against my shoulder as I wait and smile at Syl. "It's good to have allies in stores," I say, then pick up the receiver. "It's Al Sherman. How are you, dear girl? ... Mm hm, oh, that's too bad. Really? Yes. Oh, I agree. Winnie, I'm calling for a favour. A friend of mine needs a special dress for tonight. Size 8. She's tall, slender. Nothing too frivolous, dear. At least half a dozen things to look at. Around 4.30, wonderful." I hang up and pick my cigarette up from the ashtray. "That is how I enjoy shopping."

Edited 2011-09-27 22:16 (UTC)

Al gives me a quick look up'n down, an' says, "I would guess you're an 8, yes? Let me make a call..." I open m'mouth t'answer'im, but'e's already got th'phone t'is ear. "Miss Desmet, would you get me the Bloomingdale's women's department on the line? I want to speak to Winnie. It's good to have allies in stores," 'e grins't me, an' once 'gain b'fore I c'n say anythin'e's talkin'. "It's Al Sherman. How are you, dear girl? ... Mm hm, oh, that's too bad. Really? Yes. Oh, I agree. Winnie, I'm calling for a favour. A friend of mine needs a special dress for tonight. Size 8. She's tall, slender. Nothing too frivolous, dear. At least half a dozen things to look at. Around 4.30, wonderful." An'e hangs up. "That is how I enjoy shopping."

Find't m'jaw's hangin' somewhere near m'collarbone, an'I snap m'mouth closed. "Good bloody hell, izzat really how y'do yer shoppin'?" I says. Good Christin' hell, must be nice fer some. "So we jes' wait'ere ferra few hours anney drop th'clothes off fer ya t'choose?"

"Winne will bring them over," I say, "and do any necessary adjustments if need be... She's handy with a needle." I look at Syl's face and give her an amused look. "I'm not a rich man, Syl, but I'm good at making - systems cooperate with me. It's one reason I'm a department head at 35." I grin. "Of course, we could go from store to store but that's terribly annoying." I refill her glass and then flip open the folder she's brought me. "Now you can drink that, and I'll read these changes you've made, and by the time that's done the dresses should be here."

"Winnie will bring them over, and do any necessary adjustments if need be... She's handy with a needle." Me, I still can't b'lieve'is's how'e duz thin's. "I'm not a rich man, Syl, but I'm good at making - systems cooperate with me. It's one reason I'm a department head at 35. Of course, we could go from store to store but that's terribly annoying."

"Ye're pretty rich t'me," I snort. "Mebbe not Hughes mater'al, but in compar'son..." I shrug azza pours me more bourbon. I ain't gonna complain, all thin's considered. We settle down t'gether, an'Alex reads what I got. End up discussin' changes't oughta be made, thin's I like, thin's 'e likes, thin's'e wants added 'r taken away....we argue, some, but 't's funny now t'think't a few months back we'd'a been bloody screamin' at each other.

Don't seem like allat long 'fore Alex's phone rings. Th'dresses're here. Alex tells'is secr'tary t'send'em in, an'a woman comes in wheelin' a bloody rack. "Good Christin' hell." I says, standing up. I walk over'n pick th'first one I see (http://www.vintageous.com/v5850.htm) offa th'hanger. "I'd look like a bloody celery stalk."

"Try walking down Wall Street," I say to Syl's comment about wealth, and then I settle in to read her chapters.

"Definite improvement," I say to the changes she's made, "and I like this new chapter." And then the dresses are here before I can give more feedback. Parras is outraged, of course. I know she's thinking I want to get Syl naked in here. I shut the door politely, and Winnie stands nervously to one side. She's a dear girl, but so shy.

"I'd look like a bloody celery stalk."

"I quite like the green," I say, "but I think you'd need to be bigger up top to pull it off."

"I've brought several styles, Mr Sherman, some more classic and some more fashionable," says Winnie nervously.

"They're great," I say reassuringly. "Try this (http://www.antiquedress.com/item3040.htm) one," I say to Syl. "It might be too glitzy for your taste but I think it's a great shape." I pull the blinds down - we're high enough up here that no one will see in but it's polite.

"I quite like the green," Alex says, an'I grimace. Think'd look bloody dead wit't on. "but I think you'd need to be bigger up top to pull it off."

"I told ya I ain't got no tits," I says, but looks like'm scarin' th'girl.

"I've brought several styles, Mr Sherman, some more classic and some more fashionable," she says, soundin' like a scared kitten. Alex re'ssures'er, an' holds up a black dress wit' crystals on th'bodice, askin' me t'try't on.

Th'dress's pretty, an'I strip down. Don't gotta bra on, but ain't like Alex's never seen m'tits b'fore, an' th'girl's surely seen tits b'fore. Th'dress slips easy over m'head, an'I settle't on. There's a mirror on th'rack, an'I walk over'n take a look. "Not bad," I says, noddin', "Jes' feels a li'l...I dunno, stodgy." S'pretty 'nough, a'course, but still.

Th'girl fumbles 'round th'rack 'n hands me somethin' else (http://www.vintageous.com/v5863.htm). I hardly look at't while'm undressin', an' she slips't over m'head. Once glance 'n th'mirror later... "Oh HELL no."

I do like Syl in the black with crystals, but I see her point. And then she puts on a pink dress.

"Oh HELL no."

"I think it's rather sweet," I say, as seriously as I can, but the corner of my mouth twitches. "Winnie dear, something... fiercer?"

"We've got something new in, but the style is more daring," she says, and pulls out a flame coloured (http://www.antiquedress.com/item4796.htm) monstrosity. I look at Syl's face and start laughing.

"Put it away, Winnie. Something simpler," I say. "No frills, please."

She finds a simple black dress (http://vintageous.com/v5439.htm) in the rack, which seems far more promising.

"Better," I say. "Try that," I say to Syl, and unzip the back of the pink thing for her.

"I think it's rather sweet," Alex says, an'I c'n tell'e's tryin' real hard not t'grin.

"If'n y'wanted 'sweet', y'shouldn't've invited me," I says, scramblin' fer th'zipper. Winnie scrambles 'round th'rack azzi struggle.

"We've got something new in, but the style is more daring," she sounds a bit frantic 's she rummages through thclothes. An' she pulls out....

"'e said 'fierce', not flamingo!" I jes' 'bout choke. Alex starts laughin'. Fuckin'ell, 'e nearly falls back inta'is chair.

"Put it away, Winnie. Something simpler. No frills, please."

Winnie rummages 'round summore while I stand'ere lookin' like'm covered'n bloody cotton candy. Fin'lly she comes up witta sleek-lookin' black gown. Alex nods. "Better. Try that." An'e fin'lly frees me from th'fuckin' pink thin'. I jes' 'bout toss't 'way an' th'girl scrambles t'catch't.

I pull th'black dress on over m'head. S'simply, jus' a li'l bitta shimmer'n th'fabric, annit leaves one shoulder bare. "Well." I says, lookin't m'self'n th'mirror. "Well. 'at's more like't." I turn t'Alex. "Whatcha think? Good 'nough fer th'Publishers?"

"Oh," I say, nodding as I look her up and down. "Yes. I like it." The shape's perfect for her, showing off her lean shape rather than making it look like there are parts of the dress she isn't filling out. "Sexy." I grin.

"We can send the bill to your office, Mr Sherman," says Winnie, who looks keen to be gone, and she trundles the rack out of here. I do hope someone drove her over...

I walk around Syl.

"I like it from the back particularly," I say. "The glimpse of shoulder blade." I touch my fingertips lightly to it. "You do have a nice back."

One glance't Alex tells me oh yeah, this's th'one. "Oh. Yes. I like it." A minute, then'e grins. "Sexy."

'd think'e wuz gonna shock th'girl, but she looks a li'l b'yond shocked attis point. She mutters somethin' 'bout sendin' th'bill t'Alex an' rushes right out. Th'dresses practic'lly get caught'n th'door azzit slams.

Alex, meanwhile, 's circlin' me. "I like it from the back particularly. The glimpse of shoulder blade." Feel'is fingers brush m'skin. "You do have a nice back."

I look over m'shoulder attim an' grin. "You oughta know, y'had a good 'nough look attit." Wonder if'n mebbe 'e won't be seein't again t'night, an' lightly push back 'gainst's hand. Jes' ferra minute. An'en I turn, still smilin'. "So! What time's'is do start?"

"You oughta know, y'had a good 'nough look attit."

She leans back into my hand, and I feel my smile sharpen. Maybe the evening will have a more interesting finish than these things usually do.

"So! What time's'is do start?"

"7 for 7.30," I say, "which means there'll be some champagne and circulating before dinner. Shall I pick you up, or meet you there?"

Alex grins back't me. Oh yeah, mebbe'is might be fun after all. "7 for 7.30, which means there'll be some champagne and circulating before dinner. Shall I pick you up, or meet you there?"

"Better pick me up." I smirk, gesturin' down't m'self. "Can't see m'self innis on th'bloody subway." Gesture't th'zipper, an' Alex helps me outta th'dress. I hang't on th'back'a th'door an' start pullin' m'clothes on. "Ev'ryone else from th'office gonna be'ere too, I guess?"

"Most of the editorial side of things, certainly, and Art and Marketing too," I say. "Not so much the secretaries unless they've been asked to accompany someone here." I unzip her dress. "I'll be in a cab, so come down at..." I work out where her building is in relation to the party, "6.40? Maybe if you're lucky I'll bring you a corsage," I tease as she gets dressed.

"Most of the editorial side of things, certainly, and Art and Marketing too. Not so much the secretaries unless they've been asked to accompany someone here." Big s'prise, 'at. Wonder if'n any'a th'other authors'll be there...likely not, less'ey's real moneymakers. Or'ey's somebody's date. "I'll be in a cab, so come down at...6.40? Maybe if you're lucky I'll bring you a corsage," Alex grins.

I grin right back, yankin' m'shirt over m'head. "Mebbe I'll get you one too. An' don't forget, y'still owe me a shirt." I laugh, drapin' th'dress over m'arm 'n headin' out. Plenty t'do b'fore t'night. Christ, guess'd better buy some makeup.

cont here (http://excolocrack.livejournal.com/19979.html?thread=3440907#t3440907)

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This month's star title: Set-Up For Scandal!

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