Lovers and Gamblers (14 page)

‘But I
want
to come. We’re never together any more.’

‘No, Edna.’ His tone of voice indicated that he no longer wished to discuss the subject, so Edna lapsed into a miserable silence.

He had returned from the South of France furious. She had hardly dared mention the fact that the English press were going to town on his so-called romance with Dallas. ‘There’s no truth in it, is there?’ she had finally asked.

‘Are you kidding? Don’t tell me they’ve got you believing it now?’

‘Of course not.’ And she felt guilty for ever having listened to Melanie.

When Edna had suggested Brighton, to her surprise, Al had said yes. They had left the very next day, and now, only a few hours later, they were on their way home.

‘With this traffic we’ll be lucky to make it by seven,’ he grumbled. ‘I should have brought the chauffeur. I don’t know why I let you talk me out of it.’ He zoomed out of lane to overtake and, shuddering, Edna hunched down in her seat.

* * *

‘All set,’ leered Nelson, pocketing the five pounds Evan had just handed him. ‘She’ll be here at six, back door. Let her in and take her up to your room.’ He snickered. ‘You’ll find her a willing little partner. Don’t be shy now.’

‘I’m never shy,’ said Evan aggressively. Although secretly he was shaking with fear at the very thought of it all.

‘What’s her name?’

‘Her name? Oh – er, her name. Let me see now – Trudie, yes, that’s it – Trudie. Ever such a pretty bit. Better than the magazines – Oh yes, better than the magazines.’ And he nudged Evan sharply in the ribs. ‘Don’t forget now, six o’clock.’

‘Six o’clock,’ repeated Evan numbly.

Nelson left, and Evan consulted his watch. Four o’clock. Two hours to wait. He didn’t know how he would get through them. Thank goodness his parents were away for the weekend. To have the house to himself was a golden opportunity not to be missed.

He raided the bar and took a bottle of vodka and some glasses to his room. He drank a little of it, and felt his courage grow.

By six o’clock he was waiting anxiously by the back door. By six-thirty he was walking down the road looking for Trudie. By seven o’clock he was back in his bedroom with the realization that he had been conned. There was no Trudie, Nelson had been lying. And who could he complain to about his five pounds? Nelson knew that there was no one he dared tell. Sod rotten Nelson. He drank some more of the vodka and never even heard his parents arrive home.

* * *

Al was in one of his moods. He screamed abuse at Edna. Stupid cow. ‘I’m going out,’ he announced, ‘on the piss with the boys, so don’t wait up.’

‘But you haven’t had a thing to eat. I’ll make some…’

He slammed the door in her face. Jesus, but he was uptight. He needed thawing out. He jumped into the Ferrari and roared next door.

Melanie answered the door. Brittle, horny, little Melanie. ‘What happened to Brighton?’

‘Piss on Brighton. Where’s Paul?’

‘He’s at the office. Why don’t you come in anyway?’

‘I’m going to the pub. Tell him to meet me there.’

‘I could make you a drink.’

‘Thanks but no thanks.’

She laid a hand lightly on his arm. ‘Why not?’

He shook himself free. ‘I’m not that much of a bastard.’

‘And I am. Is that what you’re saying?’

‘One time was bad enough.’

‘Oh, thanks a lot, you certainly know how to make a person feel good.’

‘Melanie, sweetheart, I’m in no mood to mince words. You wanted a fuck one night – I gave it to you. I’ve felt pretty lousy about it ever since. Nothing personal but I don’t ever want to repeat the exercise.’

She smiled tightly. ‘I was offering you a drink, Al, that’s all; a drink.’

‘Terrific. But if you don’t mind I’ll get it at the pub.’

He jumped back into the Ferrari and roared off. He would always regret having given Melanie one. It had been a mistake, and one he hoped she would never be stupid enough to tell Paul.

* * *

At his office Paul checked the final arrangements for the tour. It was all looking good, tickets were selling briskly, Bernie Suntan was doing a marvellous publicity campaign. They would open up in Canada to iron out any kinks, then straight into the big one at Madison Square Garden, New York.

He placed a call to Linda. He seemed to be missing her more than ever. She was out, and he wondered where. Did she go out with other men when he wasn’t there? He had never asked her, but suddenly he was feeling very possessive, and if she did, it would have to stop. Lately he was fantasizing how it would be if he was married to her and not to Melanie. Would it be great? Or would it be great for a couple of years and then turn into the state of war that existed between most married couples he knew?

It was only a dream anyway. He could never leave his kids.

* * *

Edna unpacked the suitcase that only earlier in the day she had so carefully packed for Brighton.

Al was so touchy lately. She knew he was worried about the tour, but why did he have to take it out on her?

She put her new nightdress on the bed. It was long and blue with discreet frills round the dipped neckline. She would wear it tonight. Al needed her. And when he got home she was prepared to forget the rantings and ravings. She would put him to bed and comfort him. She would do the things he had often urged her to do in the early days of their marriage, things that she had always considered slightly dirty and perverted. That would surprise him. That would please him.

That would at last make him
notice
her.

* * *

In the private bar of his local pub Al found plenty of hangers-on to sit with. They laughed at his jokes, allowed him to buy them drinks, and basked in his limelight.

He relaxed in their company. He forgot about Brighton and Edna and the whole aggravating day. He boozed it up on scotch and coke and became suitably drunk. He realized in the middle of it all how unhappy he was. He had everything. And yet he had nothing. Was that it? Was the fact that there was nothing left to reach for the reason for his unhappiness?

God, but he needed the tour. He needed to get away. He needed Dallas.

Needed Dallas? He almost laughed aloud. How had she crept into his train of thought? Some two-bit broad with a rich boyfriend and a body. Who needed her?

But she was a challenge. She would give as good as she got. And how! Christ, he got horny just thinking about her, and that
was
unusual.

Now all that newspaper shit had petered out maybe he would see her again in New York. Not too long to wait. He would get Paul to arrange it… Yeah – good idea.

Paul arrived in time to drive him home. He was in no fit state to do so himself.

Edna met him at the front door and helped him up to bed. She laid him down and undressed him. He shut his eyes while the world weaved up and down.

Her hands stopped as they drew off his undershorts, and although he wasn’t hard her head bent to kiss him.

He imagined himself in a shuttered hotel room with yet another fan and he pushed her away. ‘Leave me alone,’ he muttered. ‘Why don’t you all just leave me the fuck alone.’

* * *

Evan woke up with a splitting headache and a dreadful sour taste in his mouth. He lay in bed wondering what to say to Nelson. He wanted his money back. Maybe he would threaten to tell his mother. Nelson would laugh and jeer and call his bluff. Nelson wouldn’t give him back his money. Evan knew that for sure.

Sun was streaming through the windows hurting his eyes. What are you supposed to do for a hangover?

He decided to take a shower in his father’s bathroom and was surprised upon reaching his parents’ bedroom to find Al sprawled across the bed asleep. He had thought they were in Brighton. Wow – they must have come back early – perhaps it was just as well Trudie hadn’t turned up. Evan blushed at the thought of his mother catching him with a girl. Crikey! She would have been furious.

Al suddenly stretched his arms and opened his eyes. ‘Evan!’ he exclaimed smiling. ‘What’s new, boyo?’

Evan clutched his pyjama trousers together, they gaped embarrassingly. ‘You’re back,’ he stated stupidly.

‘No, we’re still in Brighton,’ Al laughed, and climbed out of bed. He was stark naked, and Evan’s eyes rushed feverishly round the room searching for somewhere to focus other than his father’s huge penis.

‘Gotta take a piss,’ Al said. ‘Don’t go away. I’ve been wanting us to rap, but I never seem to see you. Where do you go all the time? Got yourself a girlfriend?’

‘No,’ muttered Evan, wishing he could tell his father about Nelson, but too ashamed to.

‘Come on, a randy little sod like you.’ The sound of Al peeing in the bathroom filled the room.

Evan edged towards the door. Perhaps his father wouldn’t notice him go.

Al strolled cheerfully back in the bedroom. He was still naked, but to Evan’s relief the size of his penis had subsided. Vaguely he wondered if his father was deformed. Or, crikey – maybe he – Evan – had an exceptionally small one. He would brood on
that
subject later.

Al was scratching his stomach. He studied his son. God, the kid was scrawny. He needed building up, he had no muscles. And that hair, shoulder-length grease.

‘If you want to come on the tour you’ll have to cut off some of that hair.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it doesn’t suit you, that’s why. It looks like shit. Don’t you ever wash it?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘I wash mine every two days, and I have it cut and styled every six weeks. I think I’ll take you with me next time. You’ve got to be more aware of your personal appearance.’

‘Why?’ sneered Evan. ‘I’m not a
pop
star.’

‘No, and you never will be if you look like that.’

‘Don’t want to be.’

‘OK. OK. Nobody is forcing you. What are you doing today? Want to come to rehearsal?’

‘No, thanks.’

‘Want some money? Are you going out?’

‘Can I have five pounds?’

‘Sure, take it, only don’t tell your mother, you know she doesn’t like me giving you money.’

Evan grabbed five pounds from the dresser. Edna insisted he manage on three pounds a week pocket money; at least Al understood
that
side of things.

‘I’ll see you at dinner then,’ said Al.

Evan nodded. ‘I can come on the tour, can’t I?’ he blurted out. ‘You promised I could. And
she’s
not coming, is she?’

‘Who’s
she?’

‘Ma.’

‘No, she’s not, and don’t call your mother she. Maybe I’ll take you.’

‘You promised.’

‘I didn’t promise, I said maybe I’ll take you. Don’t hassle me. Get your hair cut and we’ll see.’

* * *

Al threw himself into weeks of vigorous rehearsal schedule. He worked all day, and at night was exhausted and uncommunicative. Then he would come home, work out in his gym, eat a spartan meal, and collapse in bed.

Again he read about Dallas in the newspapers. It seemed you couldn’t help reading about her, everything she did seemed to make news – from getting fired as ‘Miss Coast to Coast’ to getting engaged to some rich kid. It all seemed to happen so fast.

Al felt sorry for her – he had really liked her, and maybe without all the hysterical publicity they could have got something together. But he had a certain public image to maintain – and he wasn’t stupid enough to blow it for an affair that would last how long? A week? Two weeks? Forget it.

Meanwhile the newspapers kept on dragging up the same old pictures of him with her from the television special and hinting at a great romance still lingering on. He wanted to laugh. He hadn’t even seen or spoken to her since the South of France. And he certainly had never given her one.

On the Saturday before Al went off to a health farm, Edna invited Melanie and Paul to dinner. Al decided he wanted one fast blow-out before starvation so they went to Tiberio, a fashionable Italian restaurant in Mayfair.

Edna was uncomfortable. She was supposed to open up the conversation about joining the tour, then Melanie would back her up. Words stuck in her throat, and they were at the coffee stage before Melanie finally flashed: ‘Only another week and you two will be off. How lucky can you get.’

Paul snorted. ‘Lucky indeed. It’s a circus.’

‘Don’t you think,’ ventured Edna, ‘it would be nice if Melanie and I joined you, maybe in California.’

‘It’s not
your
cup of tea, Edna. You would hate every minute of it. Crowds. Riots.
You
know what these things are like.’ Paul paused, and waited for Al to join in, but Al was playing eyes across a crowded room with a young movie actress and was not about to be interrupted. Paul plunged on. ‘Of course I know Al would love to have you there, as I know I would love to see Melanie. But these trips are murder, and we wouldn’t subject you to it.’

‘I think,’ said Melanie sharply, ‘it would be fun. Don’t you think so, Edna?’

‘Yes, I’d like to be with Al. I’m sure I could put up with a little discomfort.’

‘So!’ stated Melanie brightly. ‘Let’s arrange it. We can meet you in Los Angeles. Edna and I can do some shopping and get some sun. It will be like a holiday for us.’

Paul frowned. The thought of Melanie and Linda face to face was too much to bear. ‘Al,’ he said sharply, ‘what do you think?’

Al was dragged reluctantly into the conversation.

‘Forget it,’ he said. ‘I’ve promised Evan the trip and you know what he’s like, Edna, he’ll think you’re spying on him.’

‘But, Al…’

‘Stop nagging. I’ll take you for a holiday when we get back.’

‘If you’ve got the energy,’ murmured Melanie, sourly.

‘I’ll have the energy,’ Al replied sharply.

Melanie flushed. ‘It looks to me like they don’t want us along. Will we cramp your style?’

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, shut up,’ interrupted Paul.

‘Why? I’ve heard what goes on when you go on one of these tours. Little groupie girls to cater to your every whim.’

‘I said
shut up
, Melanie.’

‘Don’t get excited. Edna and I will stay at home like good wives, only don’t be surprised if we turn up somewhere along the way to
surprise
you. A flying visit. Now you couldn’t object to that, could you?’