Crazy For You (10 page)

“I won’t.”

Frank is going to kill you
. The threat
weighed heavily on Glenna’s mind. Still, she couldn’t stop herself.
“I’m a prostitute,” she said, and quickly looked away.

“Really?” It wasn’t a judgmental response, but one
born more out of curiosity than anything else.

“I don’t walk the streets.” Glenna felt the need to
defend her actions. “I work in a studio. It’s kind of like a
massage parlor. I don’t do anything with anybody that I don’t want
to.”

Glenna had Roxanne’s attention. Granted, getting
paid to have sex with strangers wasn’t exactly what Roxanne had in
mind. But it was good enough for Glenna. Did she think she was
better than Glenna? No.

No wonder Glenna felt secure in her relationship
with Glen. He couldn’t afford to lose her. Now Roxanne understood.
Of course Glenna came first—without her there would be no band.
Glenna knew her place. Glenna knew where she stood.

Did Roxanne know her place? Not really. Did she know
where she stood? Her guess would have to be—nowhere. Maybe, just
maybe, if she helped Glenna, then she would be important to Frank.
Just like Glenna was to Glen. Maybe this way, she’d have something
to hold on to—some way of holding on to Frank.

Besides, if Glenna could make the sacrifice, so
could Roxanne. In all her confusion and insecurities, she decided
she was right.

“Can you get me a job?” Roxanne asked.

Glenna laughed. “You’re joking, right?”

“Oh, I’m quite serious.”

“Frank would kill us both.”

“It’s my body and I can do with it what I want.”

“My, my,” Glenna said. “Frank certainly has brought
you out of your shell.”

“I think you should get me a job,” Roxanne said.
“Besides…” She looked at Glenna. “If you had my help, it’d make
things easier on you.”

Glenna couldn’t deny that. If Roxanne helped her
support the band, then she’d be able to save a lot of money that
she figured was otherwise going to waste. Glenna did what she did
for Glen, because that’s what he wanted. But as far as she could
see, Garrett-Hollander was nothing but a bunch of loser musicians,
who were never going to amount to a damn thing.

Saving money sounded tempting. Glenna knew she
couldn’t sell herself forever. Sooner or later, she had to do
something to secure the future. Not Garrett-Hollander’s future, but
her future. Her future with Glen.

Man, could she ever use Roxanne’s help.
Are you
crazy
? Popped into her head. Frank Garrett would kill her with
his bare hands.

Frank was very possessive, not to mention obsessive,
when it came to Roxanne. His ego would never allow him to agree to
such a thing. Not even for the band. Not Roxanne. Frank would have
her all to himself. Or there would be hell to pay. Everybody he
ever came in contact with would pay. Especially Glenna.

“Frank’ll never go for it,” Glenna said.

“Why are you so sure about that?”

“Okay.” She’d put a stop to this once and for all.
“You talk it over with Frank,” she said. “If he says it’s okay…I’ll
get you a job.” Glenna felt confident that this would be the end of
it.

“All right.” Roxanne easily accepted her terms.

Whatever it took to pacify Glenna. But Roxanne
didn’t think she needed Frank’s permission to do anything.
Especially when her motives were purely altruistic. If he couldn’t
be grateful for her assistance, well then, that was just too damn
bad. The consequences were a factor she’d deal with later.

Roxanne figured that insuring the future of the band
was the easiest way to insure her future with Frank. Anything she
could do to help him would be helping
them
. She talked
herself into believing she was right. And as for those warning
signals going off in the back of her head, she ignored them
all.

Roxanne gave Glenna a couple of days to consider the
whole notion of getting financial help. Then she moved on to the
next phase of putting her plan in motion.

She sat down on the bed and crossed her legs beneath
her. She grabbed the phone off the bedside table, dialed Glenna’s
number and then waited, a bit anxiously, for her to answer the
call.

Upon hearing Glenna’s chipper voice, she said,
“I…ah…I talked to Frankie last night.” That much was true. “We
talked about…well…you know…” Roxanne stumbled over the words. “He
said it was totally up to me. He doesn’t care.”

Glenna hesitated, unable to picture Frank agreeing
to such a thing. “If that’s what he said…okay,” she agreed, against
her better judgment.

“Great.”

“I’ll talk to my boss this evening and I’ll let you
know something tomorrow.”

Long after Glenna had hung up the phone, she
remained bewildered. She didn’t understand how Frank could agree to
this. He wasn’t like Glen. He would not sacrifice Roxanne, not even
for the sake of the band.

But Glenna didn’t have the nerve to call Frank to
ask him whether or not he approved.

Roxanne went to work with Glenna and kept this
information hidden from everyone, including Candy. Especially
Candy. Candy would hit the roof. She would never understand.

The first week didn’t turn out half bad. Roxanne
made tons of money. And when she helped Glenna pay the band’s
bills, she felt useful. For the first time in her life, she felt
like someone truly needed her.

It didn’t take long for the showers Roxanne took
between sessions to start growing longer and longer, and she would
scrub harder and harder, rubbing herself raw as she tried to wash
away what she’d done.

One of the girls saw her inward struggle. “Everybody
needs a little help now and then,” she told Roxanne. “A pill here…a
pill there,” she explained, “and everything’s fine. You go see Dr.
Foster.” She scribbled on a slip of paper. “Tell him you know me
and he’ll fix you up.” She offered Roxanne a miracle cure in the
form of a phone number for a crooked doctor.

Roxanne went to see this Dr. Foster, thinking he’d
give her some magic pills and then miraculously everything would be
fine.

The doctor gave her a prescription for Triavil, an
anti-depressant/ tranquilizer. But, a couple of days later she was
back in his office.

“The Triavil isn’t helping you?” he asked.

“Oh sure, it helps,” she said. “So long as I don’t
plan on doing anything but sleep. But that kind of defeats the
purpose since I can’t sit around and sleep all day.”

“Have you considered trying a different line of
work?”

“Sure,” she said. “But I can’t. I need the money
this
job pays.”

“I see.”

“I just need something that’ll relieve the stress of
what I’m doing. Something to help me cope with day-to-day
life.”

This time, Roxanne walked out of the doctor’s office
with a prescription for ten-milligram Valium. Now life was going to
be wonderful because she had some little blue friends.

***

Chapter 10

R
oxanne decided to turn the spare room
across the hall from Candy’s bedroom into an office for her
writing. Making up her mind to finish her novel, she decided to
make Ben Herrington everything Frank Garrett wasn’t. The only thing
Ben and Frank would have in common was the fact that they were both
musicians. And that’s where it ended, because not only was Ben
famous in his native country, he would never, ever sacrifice Cherie
for the music.

As the story went, Ben traveled to the United States
on holiday. After being involved in a car accident, he ended up in
the hospital where he fell for nurse Cherie Baker. Ben didn’t tell
Cherie about his celebrity status back home for fear that she would
dismiss him as a serious suitor, and that was the foundation for
the story in Roxanne’s first book, The Secret.

Roxanne went to her job each day around three in the
afternoon and returned home about eleven in the evening. She’d head
straight for her study and sit there in front of the typewriter
until four or five in the morning. She didn’t see her schedule as a
problem. She ate Valiums while at work, and took Triavil right
before going to bed. It seemed the only time she didn’t need drugs
was when she was writing.

As the time passed, Candy thought Roxanne had
adjusted well to being separated from Frank. She figured Roxanne
must still have some money left to live on, or she wouldn’t have
quit her job. Candy knew Roxanne went out every evening, but hadn’t
given much thought as to where. She merely thought Roxanne was
passing the time as best she knew how. Never in Candy’s wildest
dreams did she ever stop to consider that Roxanne might be selling
her body.

But then one day Candy went into Roxanne’s room to
borrow a belt. She searched the dresser, looking for one belt in
particular. She all but overlooked the wad of money in the second
drawer. In the next drawer, she found another pile of cash and this
time she paid close attention to those dead presidents. She quickly
went back to the previous drawer and picked up the money. Fanning
the bills, she realized there was quite a bit of cash there. After
a thorough search, Candy found about five grand stashed in various
hiding places all over Roxanne’s room.

Wow
. Where had Roxanne gotten all this money,
and why was she hiding it in her room? Candy had no idea why the
money wasn’t in the bank, but she planned to find out when Roxanne
got home.

It was later that night, nearly midnight, when
Roxanne walked through the door carrying a sandwich from the local
sub shop. Candy was in the kitchen, waiting for her. “I haven’t
seen much of you lately.”

“I know,” Roxanne said. “And I’m really sorry about
that.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you why you’ve got all
that cash upstairs?” Candy put it out there like it was no big
deal.

“Because it’s mine?” Roxanne said as if she’d been
thrown a trick question.

“Why haven’t you put it in the bank?” Candy poured
herself a glass of orange juice and a second one for Roxanne.

“Because if I do that...” Roxanne pulled a chair out
at the table and sat down. “They’ll know I have it.”

“Who?”

“The IRS.” Roxanne unwrapped the sandwich and took a
bite.

“Oh.” Candy set a glass of juice in front of
Roxanne. She nodded her thanks. “Roxanne,” Candy said, sitting
across from her. “Where did you get that money?”

“I worked for it.”

“Doing what?”
Robbing a bank
?

Roxanne, looking entirely spaced out, blurted out,
“I’m a prostitute.”

“Yeah, right.” Candy laughed.

“It’s true.”

“You don’t even know how to do stuff like that.”
Candy shook her head, rejecting the idea.

“Oh, yes I do.” Roxanne said without the least bit
of humiliation, “Get me a banana and I’ll show you.”

Candy stared at Roxanne, and it hit her. Roxanne was
high as a kite. Could this be true?
Is Rocky really a
prostitute
? She tried to reason it out in her mind.
No
.
That was an absolutely ridiculous idea. “Why?”

“To help Frankie,” Roxanne said, as if that made
perfect sense.

“Frank told you to do this?” Candy found that even
harder to believe.

“No.” Roxanne said quickly, sharply. “He doesn’t
know anything about it,” she added, as if it were a secret.

“Rocky…could you maybe start from the beginning?”
Candy asked, hoping that she could somehow make sense out of
Roxanne’s actions.

“Well—” Roxanne fell silent, as if speechless. When
she did speak again, her tone was filled with importance. “This is
a secret.” Another brief pause. “See, Glenna works in this modeling
studio which is actually a cathouse.” Roxanne’s tone was way too
casual for the words that were tumbling out of her mouth.

Candy was so shocked she was glad she was sitting;
her legs would’ve failed her.

“Anyway...Glenna supports the band, and now I’m
helping her.”

“Glenna asked you to do this?” Candy couldn’t
believe Glenna would be behind this any more than Frank.

“No.” Roxanne gave her a piercing look. “She tried
to talk me out of it...but I do have a mind of my own, you
know.”

“You came to the conclusion all on your own...to
help Frank by prostituting yourself?”

“Yes.”

“You know something,” realization fed Candy’s voice.
“You’re out of your mind.”

At that moment, Candy couldn’t do anything other
than wash her hands of Roxanne’s career decision. She couldn’t talk
any sense into her because Roxanne wasn’t acting like a sensible
person.

Candy assumed that, sooner or later, Roxanne would
realize how ludicrous this whole thing was. When she did, Candy
would be there to help her pick up the pieces—because that’s what
Chuck would want.

The weeks turned into months and one day Roxanne
found herself with a completed manuscript. She submitted her book
to a few of the smaller publishing houses, figuring she’d have a
better chance with them since she was unpublished, unrepresented,
and unknown.

At this point, she was also in pretty deep with the
prescription drugs. During the day, she’d eat eight to ten Valiums
and over the course of the night she’d take just as many
Triavil.

Then one day Frank called. “Baby, I’m coming
home.”

“Really?” The news excited Roxanne. “When?”

“Next week.”

“That’s wonderful. I can’t wait to see you.”

Filled with anticipation and exhilaration, Roxanne
eagerly prepared for his return. She also planned to tell him the
truth because she didn’t want any secrets between them. She deluded
herself into thinking he’d be grateful when he found out what she’d
done, all for the sake of helping him.

A couple of days later, Candy was home alone in the
evening watching TV. Just past eleven the doorbell rang. She
glanced at the clock and figured it was Roxanne.

Candy opened the door, but wasn’t prepared to see
Frank. “You’re not supposed to be here yet.” She tried to block the
door.