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He watched her cut the food, lift a forkful, and lean across him to talk to Olive, ignoring him.
"Why do you think I gave this damned party?" he hollered, and lunging forward, smothered her in alcohol fumes, his mouth all over her face.
The kisses stopped abruptly. The noise and laughter stopped. The orchestra sounded loud and lonely. She pushed Jack away and there stood Jay O'Brien.
"So, you've won your bet," Jay said, smiling bitterly. "You got her to your apartment. Very well, Jackson, I've come to pay you." He reached for his billfold and took out two bills, still smiling, he smashed the billfold and his fist in Jack's face. The big man crashed back against the table; as he got to his feet, Jay grasped the lace table cloth and yanked it with his full might, smashing food, flowers, everything to the floor.
The guests sat, paralyzed. Jay took a step toward her, lifted her by the elbows and held her against him level with his eyes. He was trembling violently, she trembled with him. He wanted to know why she'd come.
"I go where I wish. I'm no kidnapped baby."
He grabbed at her throat and she could feel her pulse moving against the muscles of his hand. Blood swelled her lips.
"You're answering every question I've ever had about you," she gasped. She kept her chin high, daring him; and he let go. People started talking and laughing nervously. It had been a joke, of course. Jay disappeared in a mass of waiters' white coats.
"Gypsy, you were great," Marilyn said.
Before she could answer, Jack had picked her up and was running with her on his shoulder, down the stairs. He dumped her in his car, jumped in beside her, the doorman gave the crank a whirl, and they went racing through Central Park. He held her tight against him, laughing as she struggled. It was cool; even with him holding her she felt chilled. Her light chiffon dress, was soaked with wine, ruined. They raced along Riverside Drive.
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