B004183M70 EBOK (3 page)

Give him your name, I told myself. He's
good-looking and friendly, and that voice is incredibly sexy. I opened my
mouth, only to see Lauren Bacall approach us, smile at me, and take Tom's arm.

"Tommy, darling, come with me. I want
to introduce you to a friend of mine who can help make you a star on
Broadway."

Tom looked at me ruefully. "Will you
excuse me? I'll try to find you later, if that's okay."

"Sure," I said, flabbergasted
that beautiful Lauren Bacall had just stood right in front of me, and happy
that such a good-looking guy had made a pass at me.

He'd made me feel more confident. I wore a
black silk Audrey Hepburn-like halter dress with a low back topped by a satin
bow. Pierre's invitation had specified black attire only. I'd spent the
afternoon shopping at Macy's, digging deeper into my bonus money, but surely,
in the classy feminine formal, Bradley would notice that I was a woman, not a
"kid." I'd even had my dark hair, which normally fell to my shoulder
in a flip, done in an Audrey upsweep.

I tried to appear cool as celebrities
strolled through the crowd, but it was an eye-popping group. I watched as Henry
Fonda, Joan Fontaine, and Vincente Minelli roamed the room, puffing on
cigarettes, kissing cheeks, the men slapping each other on the back. A new
gentleman arrived, causing heads to turn. It took me a minute to realize he was
Gregory Peck. What a party!

Trying not to stare at the celebrities, I
made myself focus on the photographs lining the walls. The Beatles began singing "I Want to Hold Your Hand" on the
mono, which made me look at Bradley in his classic tux. He was the type to make
a girl swoon, and maybe lose her head, the type Mama and Daddy always warned me
against. Military man that he was, Daddy wanted me to marry someone like the
brand-new GI Joe doll that had just come on the market. Only human.

Bradley hardly looked unhappy with Suzie
draping herself all over him, darn it. In fact, he had his left hand on the
back of her neck, under her just-to-the-chin perfect blond hair, massaging
away any tension she felt.

"Don't you just want to kill
her?" asked a voice with a Jersey accent.

I looked at the woman, who could apparently
read minds. Shorter than me, she had dyed her dark hair blond. I could tell
because the roots showed. I had once considered dying my hair blond, but
quickly realized I'd look like a ghost.

"I'm Gloria Castellano, Suzie's makeup
girl," the woman explained. In contrast to her frizzy hair, Gloria's
makeup was perfect, the latest style of heavily lined eyes and pale pink lip
gloss expertly applied. She wore a lovely black sheath dress that went to the
floor and featured a side split with matching black bows running from the split
up to her hips. "You do a great job with your makeup. Your brown eyes look
huge with that black liner and those thick lashes," she said.

"Thank you. That's quite a compliment
coming from someone who specializes in cosmetics. I was thinking the same thing
about your makeup. I'm Bebe Bennett, Bradley Williams's secretary at
Ryan."

I had moved on to a photo of Natalie Wood.
Since there were no chairs, Gloria and I stood in front of the photo, to the
right of where Bradley and Suzie were murmuring to each other.

Gloria nodded wisely. "Geez, no wonder
you have that tortured look on your face. You must be in love with him."

Startled that my thoughts flashed like a
traffic caution light, I tried again to adopt a calm, cool air like the rest
of the crowd. I rarely drank, but I snagged a crystal flute of champagne from a
waiter dressed in white. Champagne was the only alcoholic drink I liked, not
that I'd tried them all. With celebrities all around and Bradley misbehaving, I
needed something.

"What Mr. Williams does out of the
office is hardly my concern. We have a professional relationship," I
recited, lying through clenched teeth.

Gloria snorted. "Yeah, right. Listen,
I just got here. What's the scene? Lots of pretty faces around."

"Isn't it exciting? You'd think
everyone's being in black would make for a funereal tone, but instead, it's
very elegant."

"Black is all Pierre Benoit ever
wears. I've known him for years and have never seen him in anything else,"
Gloria confided.

We walked together along one wall,
examining shots of Marilyn Monroe, Judy Garland, Cary Grant, Rock Hudson, Dean
Martin, Lola—the legendary model represented by Ryan—Suzie—I averted my eyes—
and, to my surprise, the Beatles! I was in the same room with someone who had
photographed the Beatles. How fabby!

We lingered in front of that photo. "I
wish I could have been there the day Pierre took this shot. He really is a
gifted man. Just look at that soulful gaze in Paul's eyes."

"You like Paul?" I asked.

"Mm-hmm. And you?"

"John."

I had plenty of pictures of John and the
rest of the Fab Four on the walls of my bedroom, but to my mind, Pierre had
captured the boy inside John. The shot was like no other I'd seen. Magical.

We moved to where a plaque hung prominently
in the center of one wall of photographs. Pierre had written a short biography
of himself, the letters printed in gold on a black background. Gloria and I
read silently.

Pierre had a tragic childhood. His mother,
a model, and his father, a photographer, were killed in a car crash in their
native France when Pierre was thirteen.

Afterward, for years he moved from place to
place, working odd jobs and passionately learning his father's profession of
photography before coming to America in his twenties. He was an immediate
success, and currently, in his late thirties, stood at the pinnacle of his
career.

"What a sad beginning," I remarked
to Gloria, "but with an impressive recovery and now all this
success."

She snorted again. "Yeah, but does he
use his power for good or for evil?"

I wondered what she meant, but chose not to
pry, enjoying her company. Darlene had been flying all over the country,
leaving me to my own devices at night. I could use a new friend.

The Dave Clark Five's "Glad All
Over" played. The upbeat tune had me groovin' to the music. Admiring
looks flashed my way, including one from Tom, the young actor. He winked at me
and shrugged. I smiled at him, not really blaming him for trying to advance his
career by hanging with the big shots.

All of a sudden, I saw Stu, Darlene's
boyfriend, talking with a man I didn't know. I'd have to go over and speak to
him when he wasn't busy.

With Gloria, I made my way down the line of
photos. I drank more champagne, and my darn gaze went back to Bradley. On the
positive side, maybe his attention to Suzie was simply to reassure her that,
as the new head of the agency, he understood her value. Yes, that might be it,
I fibbed to myself. I reached up to twirl a piece of hair, only to realize my
long dark hair was pulled up out of twirling reach.

"Hello, Bebe, are you still with
me?" Gloria took another glass of champagne from a waiter.

"Sure. I'm admiring what a genius
Pierre is with a camera. Just look how vulnerable Marilyn appears."

"Right. If you say so, but I think
you're still mooning over your boss." She leaned closer and whispered in my ear, "I'll arm-wrestle you for who gets to kill
Suzie first."

We fell to giggling.

"You don't like her either?" I
asked.

"God, sweetie, the stories I could
tell you. I wouldn't know where to begin, and they'd burn your young ears. But
if it's any comfort, I can say that right now Suzie probably isn't enjoying
your boss's attention as much as she makes it look."

"Really?" I asked, burning to
know more.

"Really," Gloria confirmed.
"I'm sure she'd rather be stalking the room for prey."

"What do you mean?"

Gloria nodded knowingly. "Suzie loves
movie stars, if you get my drift. And that's a Pauline Trigere couture evening
gown she's wearing. She's looking boss, and she knows it. All the better to
reel the stars into her web of lies."

I took a minute to admire the cut of Suzie's
black wool crepe gown. Simply elegant, it reminded me of the 1920s styles,
sleeveless with hundreds of rhinestones over the upper bodice, covering the
straps and forming a bow in the front. A pretty dress, but in it she looked as
skinny as an exclamation point. "Doesn't everyone love movie stars?"

Gloria finished a swallow of champagne and
seemed to consider saying more, then let out a deep sigh. "I mean she
screws them, Bebe. If they appear on a movie screen, Suzie's in their bed for a
wild night or two and, most important, is always 'accidentally' photographed
with them. Constantly thinking about ways to raise her profile in the world,
that's our Suzie. She's a user, and she employs her body for power. She's
sleeping with Pierre, has slept with, gosh, I don't know how many of the people
at this party, and has an old flame who follows her around for the times when
she's into nostalgia. She has to be careful, though, because Pierre's got a
temper. She counts on him to make her photos perfection. Heck, after some of
her crazier nights, she'd be in big trouble without my special under-eye concealer. Anyhow, in the past Pierre
hasn't minded Suzie straying for a one-night stand, but lately he's pulled in
the reins big-time. Frankly, I'm glad. Pierre's the one who made Suzie a star,
but she's not worth his love."

"Wait, back up a minute," I said,
trying to take it all in. "You mean Suzie is sleeping with Pierre and
movie stars to get ahead—" I broke off and swung around to look at
Bradley. His gaze rested on Suzie while his hand had shifted to her lower back.
No! Surely Suzie wasn't doing that with Bradley!

I turned to Gloria, frantic, hoping she'd
reassure me.

She shot me a look of pity. "Don't
think about it. I only told you so you wouldn't feel bad about your boss. You
new to town, Bebe? You don't mind if I call you by your first name, do you? I
hate it when people call me Miss Castellano. Which, of course, Suzie does. I'm
here tonight just in case Miss Suzie Wexford should muss her lipstick or a lash
from her false eyelashes should fall onto her perfect cheek," Gloria said
in a sarcastic voice.

My head spun at the very thought that
Bradley would . . . But, stupid me, wasn't that what all men did? It was okay
for a man but not a woman, who was expected to come to her marriage bed a
virgin. I forced myself to focus on Gloria.

Poor thing, I thought, getting the
impression that Gloria must lead a life of misery under Suzie's hands.
"Bebe is fine by me, Gloria. As for Manhattan, I've been here for almost
two months. I love being a single girl in the big city. Everything is so
exciting, and there's energy in the very air. There's so much I want to do and
see. I can't wait to go to the World's Fair. I've been too busy this week
settling into the new office, but maybe I'll go Saturday."

Gloria nodded. "I'm happy for you.
I've lived here ever since I turned eighteen. I'm twenty-seven now. I consider
myself a New Yorker, but the city doesn't hold charm for me anymore," she
said in a world-weary voice. "Though I'll probably have to be at the
World's Fair. Suzie is introducing that new Ford, the Mustang, on
Saturday."

"That's a plum job."

"It is," Gloria confirmed.
"A lot of the other models are very jealous, especially Lola."

"I know she's one of Ryan's, but I
haven't met her."

"She's over there, the blonde standing
next to Norman Mailer."

I saw a familiar-looking, beautiful woman
with enormous smoke-gray eyes who appeared to be a few years older than Suzie.

"Lola was Ryan's number one model
until Suzie deviously pushed her aside and drove her to booze," Gloria
said. "Before you could blink, Suzie was the new star. Don't let all the
air kisses here tonight fool you. It's all an illusion. I'll bet Pierre gives the
guest list to the newspaper so they can print it in the society section,
furthering his reputation."

"I guess everyone is out for
themselves."

"You betcha. Suzie is also almost a
shoo-in for the next Breck Girl, a job Lola's had for two years. She's up for
contract renewal, and Lola will scratch Suzie's eyes out if Suzie takes that
Breck deal away from her."

That's why Lola looked familiar. I'd seen
her in Breck ads. I decided right then never to use Breck shampoo again if
Suzie took over as model. "Suzie must keep you busy. Do you do makeup only
for her?"

Gloria's mouth pursed. "No. I'd never
be able to cover my bills with what that blond she-cat pays me, when she pays
me. Since I make Suzie look good, I get a lot of referrals and requests from
other models, sometimes stars. I got called to do Bobby Vinton's makeup before
he went on "The Ed Sullivan Show" back in January."

"Bobby Vinton! How thrilling!" I
almost squealed, but restrained myself. Then I flashed back to a night not long
ago when I shared a dance with Bradley to Bobby's song "Blue Velvet." I started to remember
how it felt to be so close to him, smell his lime aftershave, feel his strong
arm around my waist while his other hand held my hand. ... I drew myself up and
called myself to order. "Tell me about Bobby."