Courthouse (39 page)

Zack saw Marc and the others. He studied Maria and nodded approvingly as he waved them to join him and his friends on the couch. Marc moved forward and sat on the nearest couch. Maria hesitated.

“Sit down a minute,” Marc urged. Franco stood next to the couch, waitching the dancer raptly.

“What the hell is this?” Franco whispered, leaning over to Marc, watching the girl all the while.

“Don't know.”

“You see the load of good-looking dames they got on the balcony?” Franco added. “There must be twenty of them.”

“I saw them,” said Marc.

Maria watched the girl silently. “All these men are middle-aged creeps,” she said. “Look at them. Their eyeballs are falling out.”

The dancing girl was whirling now. Her breasts were lifting away from her chest with the centrifugal force of her twirling.

A couple of the men from the balcony came to the doorway and, standing there, watched the dancing.

A man in green slacks, green suede shoes, no socks, and a yellow shirt came into the large room from another door leading to the interior of the apartment. Another girl in a bikini was with him. She had her arms behind her back as she entered the room. She was fastening her bra. The man in the green slacks chivalrously let her pass ahead of him as they walked behind the dancing girl toward the balcony. He glanced at Zack and lifted his eyebrows a couple of times, lasciviously approving something. Zack pursed his lips and nodded, his eyes off the dancer momentarily only.

The music ended. The dancer took another couple of steps without the music, and then, suddenly, her dance seemed, like a wound-out music box, to slow, then stop. She looked to Zack, then the others.

“That was really fine, honey,” said Zack, applauding a bit. “Really, fine. Go ahead inside,” he said. “You can find a bathroom in there. Take a shower; freshen up.” Zack pointed to the doorway from which the man with the green slacks had just emerged into the large room.

“Was it all right?” she said anxiously, picking up her bra from a chair and holding it against her breasts. Her chest was slick with perspiration. Zack was standing next to her now. So were two of his guests.

Marc, Maria, and Franco remained where they were.

The girl was young, perhaps in her early twenties. She was dark-haired, with a midwestern accent. Her body was very taut and trim, her legs strong. She had a vague look about her eyes.

“It was fine, really good,” said Zack. “One of the best today, don't you think, Harry?”

“Definitely,” said Harry. He was semi-bald, with glasses, and was staring at the girl's half-exposed breasts. “What's your name, honey?” asked Harry.

“Sloan Mason,” she gushed breathlessly.

“You'd better go ahead and get freshened up, cool off,” said Zack. “Harry, show Sloan where to shower.”

“Sure,” said Harry, lifting his arm to point the way. Sloan smiled, then walked ahead of him, still holding her bra against her.

Zack and the other man watched her rear end as she walked ahead of Harry.

“She's got some pair, that one,” said Zack.

“Nice ass, too,” said one of the others.

“Marc,” Zack said jovially, noticing Marc's disapproval of the language. “You came just at the right moment.” He shook hands with Marc, then with Franco, although less cordially. “And with a real doll.”

“This is my wife, Maria,” Marc said.

“Your wife?”

“It's okay, I won't bite,” Maria said, seeing a wariness color the faces of Zack and the others.

Zack managed a smile. “Just a party for a few friends. This is Charlie Ross. This is Marc Conte, Toni Wainwright's lawyer. And this is his wife and his assistant. This is Marty, Stan.”

The men shook hands, then smiled at Maria.

“Percy, Percy, get a drink over here,” Zack called to a young Black man in a white jacket who was walking through the room, carrying a silver tray.

Maria asked for ginger ale. Franco and Marc took vodkas with tonic.

“There's plenty to eat in the other room,” Zack said to Maria pointedly. “Percy, show them where the food is.”

“I think I'd like to have something,” Maria said tactfully. “You stay here, Marc, and finish your business so we can get going.”

“I'll go with you,” said Franco.

“Fine, fine,” said Zack Lord, relieved.

Maria and Franco followed Percy into another room.

“Wow, your wife!” said Zack.

“She's okay,” Marc assured Lord. “She's cool.”

“I know, but a wife's a wife.”

“Who do you want now?” Charlie Ross asked Zack.

Lord nodded. “You know which one we haven't seen yet,” he said, now looking through the glass wall to the balcony. “That little one with the pink bathing suit. With the dark hair.”

“The one with the twenty-pound tits?”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Zack, smiling toward Marc. “Bring her in. Wait till you see this one, Marc. Too bad your wife is here. Otherwise, I'd give her to you.”

Charlie Ross went out to the balcony.

“What's going on, Zack?” asked Marc.

“Oh, we're having our monthly try-outs,” Zack replied.

“What are they trying out for?”

Zack laughed. “It's really a put-on, but the girls don't know that. I bring in some of my people from out of town once a month, and some execs from companies I'm looking to take over, and a few guys from around town that I know, and I throw a party with a lot of broads for them. Let them see a little New York action.”

“There's more than a little action here today, Zack,” said Marc. “But what's the dancing and try-out stuff all about?”

“I bought a couple of meatball screen plays that were hanging around town, with no one to produce them. I gave the writer a couple of bucks for them. I still don't know what the hell they're about.” Zack laughed.

Percy returned from the other room without Maria or Franco.

“One of them is called
The Starlet
,” Zack continued. “Now I had Cahill, my lawyer, put together a production company for me. It's just a corporation called Lugar Studios, Limited. I even have a card,” said Zack, pulling out a business card from the pocket of his shirt.

“Are you really going to produce a picture?” asked Marc, looking at the card.

“Don't be silly,” said Zack. “I just have the corporation and a couple of scripts, and I have some ads put in the trade papers, you know,
Variety, Show Business,
stuff like that. They advertise things like:
looking for a young unknown actress to play the lead in a new motion picture production, must be able to dance.
Stuff like that. Every month I throw one of these audition things. And you should see all the broads I get up here. And score with. Unbelievable. They all want to be stars.”

“Don't some of the girls get wise to this?” asked Marc.

“The ones who do, walk out,” Lord shrugged. “There are still enough would-be stars left to make up a great black book for parties. You want to have a party, I'll get you some of the best broads in town.”

“Here she is, Zack,” said Charlie Ross, enthusiastically, returning with a petite, dark-haired girl with large breasts that jellied over the top of her bikini. “I told her we had our eyes on her right along, we were saving her for near the end.” Charlie was behind the girl, mugging for Zack to go along with the story.

“That's right, honey,” said Zack. “We wanted to get through some of the others who weren't really in competition with you. You know, they came up, we had to let them try out. This is Mister Conte, one of our lawyers.”

Marc said hello to the girl.

“Now, why don't we get started,” Lord said. “This is a movie entitled
The Starlet.
It's about a young starlet making good in New York, you know, the usual hard times, and then a big break.”

“I've lived it,” she said with a big smile. “What kind of background does she have? Unhappy? Happy?”

“Unhappy. Very unhappy,” said Zack.

“I can do it,” she said with a determination born of acting school.

“Now this girl is going to all kinds of lessons, you know. Acting, dancing, everything,” continued Zack. “She's really determined to make it. To make money to pay for her lessons herself, because she's not just a lazy slob or a hooker who's going to lie on her back and let some guy pay for her, she gets a job as an exotic dancer. A stripper. You think you can do that?”

“I can do it. It's real. It's believable,” said the girl.

“Okay, well, that's what we have to see,” said Zack. “We have to know if you can dance, if you have rhythm. If you'll be shocked in front of a camera crew to be dancing naked.”

“Not when we're all professionals,” she said gamely. “I've been getting myself ready for a long time for a big break. Maybe this could be it?”

“Might be,” said Zack. “We've had our eyes on you since you came in.”

Marc looked at Zack. He couldn't believe this ugly scenario.

“Okay, let's get going,” said Zack. “You think you can manage it with some of your clothes off? You'll have to in front of the camera, you know.”

The girl reached behind her back without hesitation and unhooked her bra. As it came away from her chest, her huge breasts sagged flat and long, with large pale nipples. They were not firm breasts, but rather very soft and fleshy. Zack and Charlie Ross stared at her. A couple of the men from the terrace had come into the room. One of them was eating from a plate, forking up macaroni salad when he wasn't staring at the girl's breasts. She too had a deep tan, and the area under the bra was quite light compared to the rest of her.

“More?” she asked, looking at Zack.

“Whatever you can be comfortable with,” he said, trying to be nonchalant.

She hooked her thumbs into her bikini bottom and slid it down. She kicked the bottom off to the side. Her pubic hair was pressed down from the bathing suit. A few more men from the balcony, seeing what was happening, entered the room.

“Let's go, Jimmy,” Zack said to the piano player: “Some finale strip music.”

The pianist started into the usual syncopated strip kind of bounce. The girl started moving around the room as if she were doing a strip number for a camera. She was smiling at the men as if they were the unseen audience in the make-believe theater where The Starlet worked. Zack sat back on the couch. He looked at Charlie and smiled. He looked at Marc and raised his eyebrows a couple of times.

“I don't have time for this kind of shit,” Marc said impatiently to Lord. “I'd like to talk to you for a couple of minutes.”

Zack pointed to the girl, as if he couldn't leave now. Marc pointed at his watch. Zack's attention was caught by the dancer.

The girl was giving high kicks now, doing what she thought strippers do. The men started to clap, urging her on. More men from outside came into the room. The girl seemed to respond to their enthusiasm. She started kicking harder. The men began to clap harder. Now the girl tried deep-knee bends, her legs spreading open as she did.

Marc signaled Zack again. Zack could hardly take his eyes from the girl. He signaled Marc he'd be right there. Marc turned and walked into the other room where the buffet table and another bar was set up. Maria and Franco were standing looking out a window overlooking Sixty-first Street.

“Some bunch of bastards,” said Marc, walking up behind them.

“What happened?” asked Maria.

“Nothing happened,” he replied. “Just some bunch of bastards, including Lord.” Marc explained
The Starlet
scheme to Maria and Franco, about the phony production company, the phony scripts, the phony ads, the phony auditions.

“You're right,” said Maria. “A real bunch of bastards.”

“This is what rich guys do?” asked Franco.

Sloan Mason, the previous dancer, entered the room and stood at the table, surveying the various foods. She was back in both parts of her bikini now. Harry was still with her, helping her select a plate of food.

“Hello,” Maria said to Sloan Mason.

The girl smiled.

“I'm Maria Conte, this is my husband Marc, and this is Franco Poveromo,” said Maria, moving closer to Sloan.

They all nodded and smiled. Marc looked at Maria, wondering what she was up to. The music and noise was still heard from the other room.

“I'm Sloan Mason,” said the girl. “This is, I'm sorry I don't know your name,” she giggled to the man.

“Harry. Harry Arnold.” He looked at Marc, then Maria, Franco.

“Did you come for an audition?” Maria asked the girl.

“Right. You too?”

Maria shook her head. “The auditions are phony. So is the picture they said they were making.”

Harry Arnold seemed offended. He stared at Maria.

“What do you mean phony?” the girl asked.

“It's a phony,” Maria repeated. “Nobody here's going to make a picture.”

Harry looked angrily at Marc now. Marc shrugged. Harry walked off quickly toward the living room.

“You mean these guys are just putting us on?” asked the girl.

“Exactly,” said Maria.

“There's no movie or anything?”

“Right. They fake it just to get girls up here for their parties.”

“What a real bunch of deadbeats,” she said, putting down the plate of food. Then she thought. “The hell with it, I'm not going to miss the meal, anyway. I'll leave after I eat,” she said, picking up her plate again. “I went through the trouble of getting here and doing a number. I might as well get something out of it.”

Zack Lord came into the room. “What's the matter, Marc?” he asked.

“Nothing at all,” replied Marc.

Harry Arnold was just behind Zack's shoulder.

“Can I see you for a minute?” Zack said to Marc, motioning to the side.