The Memory of Eva Ryker Read Online Free Page A

the meantime, we play it cool and dumb …”
    â€œâ€¦ ‘an unappreciated fine art.’ Yes, I know.”
    â€œAnd please remember.” I glanced over my shoulder, then launched the Rolls up the Autoroute ramp. “We don’t turn anything down until he’s paid the check.”
    We arrived at the Rotunde by eleven-thirty, but Geoffrey had still beaten us to the draw. I spotted him at a window table as we waited for the concierge to seat the people ahead of us.
    The dining room was packed with worshipers of the French belly religion. A waiter wove between the tables with a brandy-induced inferno perched on a silver platter. I couldn’t quite identify the delicacy behind all the flames, but it looked something like the Golden Calf from The Ten Commandments .
    Jan was amused by my expression. “Just like Mother used to make?”
    â€œYeah. I have a sudden urge for a cheeseburger and fries.”
    The concierge’s distant smile changed to an eager grin when I pointed Geoffrey out. Yes, of course! Mr. Proctor told me to expect you. Right this way!
    Geoffrey’s antenna picked us up before we got to the table. He advanced on me with teeth smiling and hands outstretched.
    â€œJesus Christ, Norman! How long has it been?”
    â€œThree years, Jeff. Good to see you.” His palm was tight and dry. Geoffrey Proctor is silvery and tan, like those fiftyish men who age gracefully in Esquire ads.
    I helped Jan in her chair and half-listened to her and Geoffrey’s bright and brittle words of greeting.
    â€œHow’s business?” I asked.
    â€œUp and down.” He made a stoic face. “ Sports Today is booming. So is Woman and Motor Life. World is in a bit of a rut, but we’re going into some fantastic new picture and story ideas.”
    I heard the bell tinkle but I resisted any Pavlovian drooling. “And Proctor-World stock is up, too. I’m sure Old Charlie would be pleased.”
    â€œDad never disapproved of profits.”
    â€œYep. Occasionally nepotism bears fruit.”
    Turning to Jan, he made a hissing noise through his teeth. “And I thought it was females who are supposed to be castrators.”
    â€œYou know Norman,” she said. “Bitchy on an empty stomach.”
    He glanced at both of us. “We could go ahead and order, but I’ve got someone with me. He should be back from the gent’s room in a minute. Name’s Mike Rogers. A real sharp kid.”
    â€œOne of your execs?” Jan asked.
    â€œWish he was.” Geoffrey leaned forward and folded his hands on the table. “Norman, I have the article of a lifetime waiting for someone with your talent. Not that you need the money. I’ve seen the figures on The Death Watch Beetle . Fantastic! God knows where you get your ideas.”
    â€œQuite simple. All my books are wet dreams set to prose.”
    He blinked. “I believe it. I wish I could ejaculate so profitably.”
    I peered over Geoffrey’s shoulder. “Your boy’s arrived, I think.”
    He got up and made introductions. Mike Rogers was thirty-plus. Short, stocky, and energetic. Light brown, expertly cropped curly hair. Candid eyes. Open smile. An ail-American face just starting its slow slide into middle age. A very likable package.
    Rogers kept within his shell while Geoffrey talked pleasantries. De Gaulle and Paris traffic and Reeperbahn sex parlors and Liz and Dick at Torre Astura. Fortunately, Jan and I are adept at verbal handball. I knew he would eventually get to the point.
    We ordered from menus the size of an auto windshield. I remember Geoffrey slicing meat when he decided to talk business.
    â€œNorman, this April will mark the fiftieth anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic. World is going to do a special story for our April issue. I think you’re the man to write it.”
    â€œ The Titanic ? You mean with the iceberg and Clifton Webb going down singing