Read Online Eve by James Hadley Chase - Free Book Online Page B

come in a flash. I was going to write the story of Eve. I was going to capture her warped, odd personality and put it on the screen.
    “It’s good,” I said, excitedly. “Yes, I know I can do it!”
    Carol looked at me and suddenly bit her lip. Our eyes met and I knew she had sensed what I was going to do. I looked quickly away and went on to Gold, “As Carol says it’s a great title and a great subject . . .”
    Carol pushed back her chair. “Would you mind if I run away?” she said abruptly. “I’ve developed an awful head. It’s, been coming on all the evening . . .”
    Peter was at her side before I could even stand up.
    “You’ve been working too hard, Carol,” he said. “R.G. will excuse you . . . won’t you.”
    The tawny eyes had gone sleepy again. “Go to bed,” he said a little curtly. “Mr. Thurston and I will stay here. See her home, Peter.”
    I stood up. “I’m seeing her home,” I said, feeling angry and a little frightened. “Come on, Carol . . .”
    She shook her head. “Stay with Mr. Gold,” she said, without looking at me. “Peter, I want to go home.”
    As she turned away I put my hand on her arm. “What’s wrong?” I asked, trying to keep my voice. “Is it something I said?”
    She looked steadily at me. The hurt, angry look was still in her eyes. “I just want to say good night to you now, Clive. Will you please understand?”
    She knows, I thought, she knows everything. There’s nothing I can keep from her. She sees through me as if I were made of glass.
    There was an awkward pause. Gold stared down at his fleshly hands, a frown on his heavy face. Peter picked up Carol’s ermine cape and stood, uneasily waiting.
    “Of course,” I said, surprised that my voice sounded so harsh, “if it’s like that.”
    She tried to smile. “It is rather like that. Good night, Clive.”
    “Good night,” I said.
    “I’ll see you at the club, R.G.” Peter waved and they went away together.
    I sat down at the table again.
    Gold regarded the white ash of his cigar thoughtfully.
    “Women are odd, aren’t they?” he said. “Of course, you mean something to each other?”
    I did not feel like discussing Carol with a comparative stranger. “We’ve known each other some time,” I said flatly.
    His thick lips pursed and his eyebrows came down. “That idea of hers is good. A satire about men. Angels in Sables. It’s box office.” He closed his eyes and brooded. “What’s your angle?”
    “A portrait of a wanton,” I said, leaning back in my chair, my mind divided between Carol and Eve. “The men who pass through her hands, the power she exerts and her ultimate conversion.”
    “Who would convert her?” Gold asked casually.
    “A man . . . someone who is stronger than she.”
    Gold shook his head. “That’s bad psychology. Carol would tell you that. If your character’s a genuine wanton, then only another woman could convert her.”
    “I don’t agree,” I said stubbornly. “A man could do it. If a wanton could be made to love, then I believe the barriers would come down and you could do anything with her.”
    He touched off his cigar ash onto a plate. “I don’t think you and I are thinking along the same lines,” he said. “Describe to me your idea of a wanton.”
    “I’ll describe the wanton I have in mind. She’s the only one I could be interested in because I know her. She is real and I can study her.”
    “Go on.” Smoke curled from his lips and partly obscured his face.
    “The woman I’m thinking of lives on men. She is pitilessly selfish and very experienced. She is anti-social, amoral and interested only in herself. Men mean nothing to her except for the money they give her.” I ground my cigarette butt into the ash tray. “That is my wanton.”
    “Interesting,” Gold said, “but too difficult. You don’t know what you’re talking about. A woman like that could never love. She would have lost the feeling for love.” He glanced up and looked