Stardust(9)
“There you are. Sol asked me to wait. Look, he’s sorry but he has to beg off dinner. Miss Goddard came back for him. You know Sol, he can’t say no to her.” This all in a rush, as if he were short of breath. “He said he’ll make it up to you. It’s just—”
“What? Just now?”
Ben shrugged. “I think she didn’t want to be alone with the Major. Sol couldn’t say no.”
“No,” Katz said, evidently used to excuses.
“He said he’d make it up to you.”
He left Katz standing in the dining car, wondering how, and raced back through the club car, pushing past the crowd at the bar. Lasner hadn’t moved, leaning against the window, holding on to the rail underneath, still white.
“All right, now let’s get you a doctor.”
“Next one,” Lasner said, pointing down the corridor toward a drawing room car, presumably his own. He leaned again on Ben. “No porters. They tip them.”
“Who?” Ben said as they started to move. Was Lasner becoming confused? Did that happen?
“Polly. All of them. They tip the porters.”
Meaning Paulette? Ben glanced at him, then let it go. “The pills are in your room?”
Lasner nodded, clutching the handrail as they moved down the car. “What did you tell him?”
“That Miss Goddard sent for you.”
“He buy it?”
“I think so. You shouldn’t even be moving.”
“So they can lay me out in the club car? We’re almost there.”
It was a two-chair drawing room, top of the line, the settee already extended and made up, crisp white sheets folded over at the head. Ben lay him down, taking off his tie, his shoes, then suddenly went shy, not ready to draw the pants off the bird-like legs.
“Dopp kit,” Lasner said, pointing to the bathroom.
Ben rummaged through the leather case and pulled out a brown pill bottle. Hillcrest Pharmacy. As needed. He splashed some water in a glass.
“These?”
Lasner took two, then lay back, half closing his eyes, as if he expected instant results. Ben stood for a minute, helpless, then put the water down next to Lasner and went to the door.
“I’ll find a doctor.”
“I don’t need—”
“I’ll be right back,” Ben said, ignoring him.
“No porters,” Lasner said, raising his voice so Ben could hear it after he closed the door.
But, in fact, how could he find a doctor without one? Another story, a sick wife, the porter too polite to contradict.
By the time he got the doctor back to the compartment the pills seemed to have had some effect. Lasner’s breathing was deeper, pushing some color back into his face. The doctor glanced with a quick nod at the pill bottle and took out a stethoscope at the same time. “There still some pain?” He reached into the shirt, placing the metal disc on Lasner’s chest.
“Not as much.”
“This happen before? Must have, if you have these.” He nodded again at the pills. “And you kept walking around? Don’t you know better than that?”
“I’m here.”
“You’re lucky.” He leaned over, listening more carefully.
“With doctors,” Lasner said. “It’s like lawyers? It’s all private?”
“You should be in a hospital. To be on the safe side. I can ask them to stop the train,” he said, glancing out at the open prairie, “or wait until we get to Kansas City. We can wire ahead, have things ready.”
Lasner shook his head. “Carry me out? In front of the Morris office? No.”
“What’s he talking about?” the doctor said to Ben.
“Nothing,” Ben said, not bothering. “Is he really in danger?”
“He could be.”
“Listen to me,” Lasner said, his voice steady. “I know what this is. It gets better, or it doesn’t. You ride it out. What are they going to do in a hospital? Put me in bed. I’m in bed.”
“Well, I can’t take the responsibility then,” the doctor said, sounding so exactly like George Brent that for an instant, thrown, Ben almost laughed.
“Kohler will keep an eye on me,” Lasner said.
The doctor sighed. “Anyway, you’re not in bed. Here, give me a hand, will you?”
“What do I do?” Ben said to the doctor as they undressed the head of Continental Pictures. The stork legs, just as imagined. Boxer shorts. The suit hung up neatly. Wispy gray hair laid back against the propped pillows.
“Nothing. He’s right about that. You ride it out. Just keep him quiet. I’ll check in again in the morning.” He wagged his finger at Lasner. “Stay in bed. Or they will carry you out in Kansas City.” He turned back to Ben. “I’ll leave these,” he said, handing him a small envelope with pills. “In case he can’t sleep. If it gets bad again, you know where to find me.” He picked up a cigar from the standing ashtray. “Wonderful,” he said to Lasner, “just what you need.” Another Brent line, shaking his head as he left.