‘I want a cigarette!’ she snapped.
‘All right, all right.’ He leaned over her and reached under the bed, producing a packet of filter tips. It was his idea that she give up smoking, certainly not hers.
He lit the cigarette for her, placed it in her mouth. ‘Bad for you,’ he admonished.
She drew deeply, inhaling the delicious poison into her lungs. She glanced at Rik. He was back in his supine position, still smiling.
He was beautiful – but God, he was boring! She had been seeing him for three weeks on a regular basis and he was driving her nuts!
She had thought that a good steady screwing would take her mind off Paul. But she had been wrong.
She got out of bed and started to dress.
‘Where are you going?’ asked Rik, the smile vanishing from his face.
‘I feel like a walk.’
‘I’ll get dressed.’
‘Alone.’
‘You promised you’d stay the whole night.’
‘I can’t.’
‘But you promised.’
‘Listen, Rik, I don’t think that we had better see each other again.’
‘Whaaat?’
‘For a while anyway.’
He leaped off the bed and held her firmly by the shoulders. ‘Why?’ he pleaded. ‘What have I done?’
She shook free. ‘It’s nothing you’ve done, it’s just that,’ she shrugged, ‘I don’t know, I’m beginning to feel hemmed in, like trapped.’
His lips tightened. ‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘It may seem ridiculous to you, but it’s the way I feel.’
He turned his back on her. ‘Why didn’t you tell me earlier?’
‘Earlier when?’
‘Before we made love.’
‘What difference does that make?’
‘It makes a lot of difference.’
She tried to make light of it. ‘Hey listen, kid, I never turn a great lay down!’
His hurt face made her realize she hadn’t said the right thing.
‘I’ll call you, Rik,’ she said, ‘in a day or two.’
He stared at her. How come she was using all his lines?
‘You never call when you say you will,’ he muttered.
She smiled brightly. ‘This time will be different, you’ll see.’ And before he could object she was out of his apartment, on the street, hailing a cab, and making some decisions.
* * *
Back in England, back at her house, a cowed and silent Evan by her side, Edna did something she had been wanting to do for years. She fired the cook, the maid, and with the most pleasure of all – Nelson.
He was not easy to get rid of. He leered at her and said, ‘I’ll be seeing Mr. King about it when he gets back.’
‘No,’ replied Edna, ‘you’re seeing me now, and I’m telling you that I’d like you to leave – today.’
Nelson narrowed mean eyes. ‘So that’s the way it is, then. Pushed out without so much as a by-your-leave.’
‘I’ll pay you two weeks’ money,’ said Edna firmly.
‘That’s not enough,’ Nelson grumbled. ‘Rich people pushing us poor around. You think with money you can do what you want.’
‘Is four weeks’ wages enough?’ questioned Edna.
‘Make it six, missus. That’s only fair.’
‘All right.’ She would have agreed to anything to get him off the premises.
She counted out the money and Nelson snatched it greedily. ‘You’ll be alone, then, all alone ’til the master gets back.’
‘Thank you, Nelson,’ she said brusquely, dismissing him.
Insolently he picked at his nose. ‘I’ll have to pack up me things,’ he said. ‘You don’t mind that, do you?’
She turned away, filled with relief that she had been able to fire him. ‘That will be all right,’ she replied curtly, ‘but please make it fast.’
He sniggered. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ and ambled off down the garden muttering to himself.
She had done it! Soon she would be alone in the house. Her house. She could cook meals without feeling like an intruder. She could clean her own furniture, dust her own shelves. She could swim in the pool without that horrible man leering at her. She could tend to the garden, grow her own vegetables. And if Al didn’t like it when he came back… Well, he would just have to lump it. She was going to do what made her happy for a change.
Upstairs Evan lay on his bed, his eyes open and unseeing. If he hadn’t run off… If he had been there when she needed him… He was to blame for Nellie’s death. It was his fault.
Tears trickled down his face, weaving their way through his acned skin.
He didn’t know what to do. He just didn’t know…
* * *
Jetting into Los Angeles was a trip unto itself. The California faction of the Al King fan club were out in force. The police held the crowds back while he was transferred to the obligatory long black limousine.
‘Welcome, Welcome, Welcome!’ screamed the fans, holding their banners of undying love aloft.
A female journalist of much clout was waiting in his limo for a taped radio interview. The programme was syndicated all over America.
Bernie Suntan was on hand looking fat and sleek and happy. This was his town. Here, he was in control. He handed Al a typed list of top Hollywood hostesses who all wished to give parties in his honour. In the Hollywood social circles giving parties for visiting celebrities was the thing to do – whether you knew them or not. They were all vying to do the honours for Al.
* * *
Al ticked off Doris Andrews – because he had always loved her movies; and Karmen Rush – because she was the female superstar of the moment, and while not exactly beautiful, she had a charisma matched only by her sensationally powerful voice. He didn’t fancy either of them, but more important he was a fan of them both.
Bernie was well pleased with Al’s choice – national coverage on both events would be guaranteed. Karmen Rush and her entourage had already requested tickets for both of Al’s concerts.
The stars were turning out in legion to see Al, and Bernie was delighted to see how well he looked. In Tucson he had been puny-faced, tired, and drawn-looking. The transformation was remarkable.
* * *
Linda arrived in Los Angeles on the same day, although she wasn’t aware of that fact until later when she saw all the press and television coverage. She had not planned it this way. In fact she had not planned anything. She had just decided that she had to get out of New York for a while – so she had packed a few clothes, her cameras, and here she was. Free. She wanted to stay that way. Just because Paul was in the same town didn’t mean she had to see him.
She called Dallas at the studio, who insisted that she come and stay with her.
‘My plan is to get a little apartment,’ Linda told her. ‘But while I’m looking, your place would be just wonderful.’
‘Come by the studio and pick up the key,’ Dallas said, ‘I’ll leave it at the main gate.’
* * *
As soon as he was settled in his bungalow at the Beverly Hills Hotel Al handed Paul a slip of paper. ‘Call her,’ he said.
Paul looked at the number blankly, ‘Call who?’
‘Dallas.’
‘Dallas?’
‘You going deaf?’
‘I thought…’
‘You thought what?’
‘Goddammit, Al, you know what. She always gives you a hard time. You need all that crap?’
‘I’ll decide what I need.’
‘Anyway, she’s a heavy number now. You can’t pick up a magazine or paper without finding her picture or a story.’
‘So?’
‘Well…’ Paul hesitated, then plunged ahead. ‘She didn’t want to know about you before. What makes you think…?’
‘Just call her. Your opinions I can do without. I pay you to do – not think.’
‘You pay me?’
‘Don’t split hairs,’ sn
apped Al in an irritable fashion. ‘Call her, tell her I’d like her to be my guest at the concert tomorrow.’
‘Sure, boss,’ drawled Paul sarcastically. They had had three weeks of peace and rest. Al had actually started to behave like a human being. Now he was back to his old self. Christ almighty! To say that he paid him – it was an insult. Maybe Al thought that he could stroll onto the street and just hire anyone who could do the job that he did. Why, without him, Al would have drowned in his own juices long ago.
When this tour was finished they were going to have to get some things straight. Either his brother treated him with some respect or it was over.
Paul left the bungalow, screwed the piece of paper up with the phone number on and threw it into the bushes. It was pointless to call anyway. She would only turn Al down. She always did.
Besides, Bernie had two thick black books that were going to keep Al more than busy.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Dallas had slept badly with the help of two Seconal – which hadn’t helped.
She got up an hour before she was due at the studio and packed up all of Cody’s things. Two suitcases. Most of his personal stuff he kept at his mother’s. Thank God he hadn’t told his mother.
She was so relieved it was over almost before it had begun. If Cody was agreeable they could just continue the way they were before. It had been her mistake. She didn’t love him – whatever love was. And she certainly couldn’t put up with the sex – no way.
She swam, fixed orange juice and toast, and tried to blank the whole Bobbie business out of her mind.
She couldn’t. She kept on seeing the dingy little room, Bobbie lying on the floor…
If only she could arrange a decent funeral, at least send flowers. But to get involved was hopeless, and she knew it.
The phone rang just as she was leaving. It was Cody.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I was suspicious, jealous, I didn’t wait for you to explain, I…’
She cut in. ‘You were right, Cody, you called the shots, I lived up to your non-expectations. I guess it’s the way I am.’
‘But I didn’t…’
‘Look – we have to talk. Can you come by the studio for lunch?’
He agreed to meet her. She sighed, it wasn’t going to be exactly easy telling him that they were never married, that it was all a put-on. Maybe he would be relieved… She was.
* * *
Carol Cameron slept nude, wearing only a black sleep mask and massive ear plugs. If a rapist broke in, she would probably never even know he was there.
Cody slid from her king-size bed early in the morning and fixed himself coffee in her chintzy kitchen. He was exhausted. He had never known making love could be so energetic. If they ever gave out an Oscar for energy and initiative in the sexual stakes Carol Cameron would be sure to win.
He wondered what she thought of him. Good? Bad? Indifferent? Excellent?
He remembered the first girl he had ever slept with. A secretary (he had a history of secretaries!) several years older than himself. He had been twenty – a late starter due to his mother monitoring his every move. Anyway, after the big bad deed he had waited patiently for her verdict, but she hadn’t said anything, until finally he was forced to ask. ‘How was I?’ ‘Adequate,’ she had replied with a yawn.
Adequate! The word had stayed with him all his life.
Did Carol Cameron think of him as ‘adequate’? He thought not, remembering the compliments she had showered upon him. ‘Enormous!’ (untrue) ‘Never seen anything like it!’ (unlikely) ‘You’re the best!’ (could be true, but with her track record probably not).
Hmmm…
In the clear light of morning he was sorry that he had come here. He was a married man, and whatever Dallas had done did not give him the right to rush out and do it too.
Now Carol Cameron would put the word around that he was an easy lay – especially when he told her he wasn’t going to handle her. Maybe she would put the word around that he was enormous and he could spend the rest of his life disproving it…
What was he thinking of? He had a wife. Dallas had never commented on his sexual prowess at all. She was always very silent and undemonstrative. She seemed to have enjoyed it more the very first time when he had been unable to get it up for more than a few seconds.
Of course with her previous record, sex was probably not the ultimate turn-on. But he had hoped to change all that. Maybe other guys were changing it every day. Maybe she could only get it on with big black studs… Group scenes…
He mustn’t think like that.
He picked up the phone and called her.
* * *
‘Cut!’ shouted Chuck. ‘Okay – print it. Let’s break for lunch.’
‘You want to have lunch with us?’ Kiki asked Dallas.
‘No, thanks. Cody should be here – oh, there he is.’ She strode over to him. ‘Hi.’
He kissed her chastely on the cheek. ‘Hi.’
They walked in silence to her dressing-room. He sat on a chair while she unzipped herself out of the silver track suit she had been wearing for the scene.
He marvelled at her body as he always did. The long legs, finely-muscled stomach, magnificent breasts. She shrugged her way into a loose kimono and lit a cigarette.
‘I’ve got a confession,’ she said. ‘I think as my almost husband you should know.’
He was confused. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Us. We were the marriage that never was.’
‘Huh?’
‘We were never married. I wasn’t quite straight with you – you see, I already have a husband.’
‘Is this some kind of joke? If it is, I don’t think it’s very funny.’
‘It’s no joke, Cody. I was married at seventeen to a guy in Miami. We never got divorced. So you see…’
He stood up, knowing that his skin was turning a dull red with anger. ‘I see.’
She stood up too. ‘It’s best this way. No hassles. You were right, I should have listened to you.’
He stared at her. God, she was beautiful. But, God, she was a bitch. Didn’t she realize she had just cut off his balls?
‘It can all be like it was before,’ she was saying, ‘business and friends.’
Now she was handing them back to him neatly packaged, the way she wanted it.
‘I packed up all your things – maybe you could collect them this afternoon before I get back. I don’t think we should string things out.’
‘No, of course not,’ he said tightly. He wanted to hit her, strike out. But he had never hit a woman in his life, and besides – she was still Dallas – and he still loved her.
She kissed him lightly on the cheek. ‘I’m sorry I lied to you. I don’t know why I did – but I guess you understand.’
Oh sure. He was a schmuck, wasn’t he? Schmucks always understood.
‘Do you want any lunch?’ she was asking him casually.
Don’t tell me she was going to eat at a time like this? He could throw up all over her.
‘No,’ he said quickly, ‘there’s things at the office needing my attention.’
‘Well…’ She stretched. ‘Shall I call you tomorrow?’
‘Yes, of course.’ He just wanted to get out of there.
She moved very close to him. ‘You’re sure you understand?’
He forced a laugh. ‘What’s to understand?’
He drove around in a daze for two hours afterwards, finally stopping at a drive-in for a coffee. He still couldn’t face eating.
The coffee rumbled uncomfortably around in his stomach. He felt sick. He had to find a hotel – it was either that or back to the comforting Miss Cameron. He couldn’t face the office.
He drove up to the house to collect his suitcases which Dallas had so thoughtfully packed for him. Boy – when she wanted somebody out, there was no hanging about. But he couldn’t hate her. He had known this would happen – not quite so soon perhaps ?
?? but eventually.
Why would a girl like Dallas want to be married to a guy like him? He couldn’t think of one good reason, and he realized it was time to go back to his analyst for a fast course of self-esteem.
* * *
Linda picked up the key and drove her rented Mercury up to Dallas’s house. The sun was shining. The Californian disc jockey blathered on about nothing on the radio. The attendant in the supermarket she had stopped at had given her a ripe juicy cantaloupe as a gift along with the big bag of groceries she had bought.
Los Angeles was a nice city. Warm and friendly. Fun. She wanted to have fun, she had been working much too hard. She was planning to relax, take it easy, photograph a few movie stars.
A man was putting suitcases in a car outside the house, and she recognized him as Cody Hills. God, she hoped he wasn’t moving out on her account.
She honked the horn. ‘Hello there,’ she shouted.
He turned to look at her. Blank. No recognition.
‘Linda Cosmo, Dallas’s friend,’ she said, jumping out of the car.
‘Oh, hi.’ He looked glum.
‘I’m coming to stay for a few days – just ’til I find an apartment.’
‘Good.’ He was about as interested as a frog.
‘Gorgeous weather,’ Linda remarked. She had always had a compulsion to make inane conversation.
He was busy slamming the boot down on his car. He was quite attractive really, a little more hair, lose a few pounds… She tried to remember what Dallas had said about him –something about him being nice… too nice… Was there such a thing as a man who was too nice?
As she was thinking, she was carrying the groceries from the car, trying to manage her large Gucci hold-all and all of her camera equipment. It didn’t work. She tripped and dropped everything. Oranges and apples were rolling about everywhere. A yoghurt lost its top and spilled out. A carton of eggs smashed.
‘Shit!’ she exclaimed.
Cody got out of his car. He had been just about to drive off.
‘You want me to help you,’ he stated.
‘I want you to help me,’ she agreed.
He looked at her properly for the first time. She had the most direct, deep, interesting eyes. She looked like the sort of woman you could talk to.