Lovers and Gamblers (26 page)

What to do? He had to get out. To stay meant the imminent return of Evan, and even if he was locked safely in the bedroom with a blonde, it wouldn’t be the same.

He picked up an invitation to attend a luncheon party for the English Ambassador, got dressed quickly, had Luke summon his limousine, and they were away.

* * *

‘This is nice,’ Linda murmured. She lay in a sun chair, sipping a Banana Daiquiri, and observing the frenetic activities of the other guests on the yacht as they scurried from group to group frightened of missing something or someone.

‘Not bad,’ agreed Paul. But he was frowning, and he couldn’t help wondering if Al was all right. Since the argument they had maintained a cool business relationship, or at least Paul had. Al, in his way, would have been quite happy to pretend the whole incident had never happened. But Paul was deeply hurt, and childish though it was, he wanted an apology, and he was determined to hold out until he got one.

Linda was delighted that she suddenly had Paul all to herself. He attended to business, saw that the shows went smoothly, and then he was all hers. No hanging around to see what Al wanted to do. No hand holding, ass kissing, pimping. It was a refreshing change.

When Paul seemed to weaken, she reminded him that Al had Evan with him anyway, and Bernie and Luke were in constant attendance to see to his every need.

That was fine, reasoned Paul, but he could see Al becoming more and more restless as the tour progressed, and he thought to himself – fuck you – stubborn bastard – apologize for Chrissake and I’ll be there to smooth things over – look after Evan – find you prime pussy – whatever you want.

‘I
like
the rich life,’ Linda remarked. ‘Why don’t we buy a yacht and just take off where no one can find us. You’ve got enough money, haven’t you?’

Paul grimaced mockingly. ‘So! It’s my money you’re after.’

‘Never! It’s your body, it’s always been your body… Come here, you sex machine. Come here, you big…’

‘Stop it! Hands off, someone will see.’

‘Don’t be so English.’

‘Don’t be so American. And get your hands off my…’

‘All right. All right!’ Linda stretched languorously and laughed. ‘Am I getting brown?’

‘Not bad. You like lazing around in the sun, don’t you?’

‘Yes. I could see myself living this kind of life. You know, I don’t see why we can’t—’ she began, then stopped abruptly, her mood changing mid-sentence. She knew why they couldn’t buy a yacht and take off. She knew why they couldn’t be together. She reached into her purse, produced a cigarette, lit it, drew deeply, stared at Paul. ‘I hate the fact that you’re married,’ she stated flatly. ‘I really hate it.’

‘Why are you bringing that up? I never tried to hide it,’ he defended.

‘Nope,’ Linda laughed in a brittle fashion, ‘I guess you never did.’ She thought of the unknown enemy, the wife, and for the thousandth time wondered what she was like – even more important, what Paul was like when he was with her. Did they make love? Well, of course they must do. Was it good? Linda bit deeply into her lip. She wasn’t going to ask. She wasn’t going to behave like the other woman. She was just going to cool it, like she always had. And in the end – where the hell did it get her? Nowhere fast, that’s where it got her. If she was smart she would cast her eyes around for someone new, someone free.

She sighed, shivered slightly, drained her drink and said: ‘Let’s circulate, Paul. Let’s see who else is on this floating piece of ostentation.’

Maybe she should start to play games. Maybe that was the way to get through to him. But oh Christ, who needed all that game-playing crap, not at her age, that was stuff for teenagers.

‘Do we have to?’ Paul groaned.

‘Yes,’ insisted Linda. ‘I thought I saw Ramo Kaliffe a minute ago, and I’d love to meet him.’

‘Lead the way,’ said Paul resignedly. And he wondered what Al was doing.

Arriving at Miami Airport hit Dallas like a giant shock wave. It brought back every bad memory. Was it really only two years ago that she and Bobbie had fled the city like a couple of thieves?

She remembered the night in detail… The old man dying on them. Bobbie pocketing his bankroll. The mad dash to their crummy apartment where they packed up in record time. And then the airport where Dallas had felt that at any moment a hand would descend on her shoulder and she would be arrested…

She jumped as a voice growled, ‘Wanna cab?’

‘Yes, please.’ She climbed in and directed the driver to the Fontainebleau.

More memories. She had practically started her career at the Fontainebleau. She shuddered when she realized how many men ago
that
had been.

‘Al King concert at the Sportatorium tonight,’ the driver remarked, ‘it’s a madhouse over there, big hassle with forged tickets. You here on vacation?’

‘No.’

‘You look familiar, like I know you. You on TV?’

‘No.’

‘Had a girl in the cab last week. An actress – English. She…’

Dallas tuned out as the cab driver droned on. She found herself wondering if her parents were still at the zoo. If her husband was with them. If any of them had ever given her a second thought.

If she had more time she could drive out there. Not of course to go in, but just to see if the zoo was still there…

Bastards. She had been seventeen years old and they had just let her walk out in to the world on her own. A girl so innocent that she had thought the first guy that screwed her was doing
her
a favour.

The cab pulled up at the Fontainebleau.

‘You sure do look familiar…’ the driver mused.

She ignored the remark, paid him, and walked up the steps into the hotel.

Linda was not there. Paul was not there. But the desk clerk pointed out Bernie Suntan waddling across the lobby on his way out.

Dallas hurried over to him. ‘Mr. Suntan,’ she said quickly, ‘I…’

He continued walking. ‘Sorry. No free tickets, kid. Kaput. All gone. Follow us to Chicago and I’ll see what I can do.’

‘I don’t want tickets,’ she said. ‘My name is Dallas, I’m a friend of Linda Cosmo, and I have to get hold of her immediately. It’s most urgent. Can you help me?’

Bernie stopped, stared, let out a whistle. ‘Jeeze, you are one beautiful lady! Saw the TV thing you did with Al. Excuse me for not recognizing you at once but this tour is aging my facilities! For you I gotta ticket.’

‘I don’t want a ticket,’ Dallas explained patiently, ‘I just want to see Linda.’

‘Of course you do,’ agreed Bernie, rubbing sweaty palms together, ‘and we shall share a car to the Sportatorium and we shall find her for you.’

‘Thank you.’

* * *

The cab driver had been right about it being a madhouse at the Sportatorium. Huge crowds roamed around outside surging angrily in different directions. Mass blocks of tickets had been forged, and many genuine ticket holders had been unable to gain entry.

‘If we could catch the rip-off merchants life would be a lot easier,’ Bernie complained as their car edged its way through the crowds. ‘Gonna take you to Al’s dressing-room while I find Linda. She’s a good kid – takes a bitch of a picture. You should see the show.’

‘I did. I saw it in New York.’

‘You did? Wish I’d known, could have done a nice little thing with you and Al. Pictures… old friends. Could have been a nice plug for you.’

‘I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I think Al’s nervous of his wife.’

Bernie burst into raucous laughter. ‘Al? Nervous of his wife? Craperooney, baby – pure craperooney. Al’s screwed everything that moves on this tour. No offence… I mean, what the fuck…
everyone
knows about Al.’

Dallas agreed. ‘Sure. So if you were a girl, would you want to be photographed with him?’

Bernie laughed some more. ‘If I was a girl, I’d piss my way out of his sight in record time. He treats ’em all like shit.’

‘Him and who else?’ stated Dallas drily.

‘You’re something,’ guffawed Bernie. ‘I like you. When I’m a producer gonna keep you in mind.’

‘How kind of you.’

‘What the fuck… If you can’t help friends in this life, who can you help?’

‘Quite right,’ agreed Dallas briskly. ‘Do you think we can find Linda now?’

* * *

The Promises were on stage belting out ‘Love Power’, shimmering in black sequin boiler suits.

Al was in his dressing-room, drinking hard. He had already demolished a bottle and a half of scotch, and did not feel like doing the show. Fuck the show. Fuck the people. What was he, a puppet?

Evan, in one corner of the dressing room, puffed uneasily on a cigarette.

Luke had rushed off to summon Paul.

Bernie, unaware of any dramas, waddled in with Dallas behind him.

Al didn’t see her. He scowled at Bernie in the mirror and said, ‘Where you been, Bernie? Out water skiing? Or maybe Disneyland took your fancy? Don’t know why you took the trouble to come here at all. Why do any of you bother? I do the work, the rest of you should stay away, just pick up the money. You shitass. Here’s a nice little item for you. Al King will not appear tonight. Al King is all fucked out and just wants to sleep. You like it? Does it grab you by the balls?’

‘Al!’ protested Bernie. ‘Baby! what’s the matter? I just got off the phone to Chicago setting everything up. I would have been here sooner if…’

Dallas backed quietly out of the room as Bernie spoke. She did not need this whole bit. Al King was obviously every bit as impossible as she had thought he would be.

Paul was striding towards her. ‘What’s going on?’ he snapped in an irritable fashion. ‘What are
you
doing here?’

‘Question one – I don’t know. Question two – looking for Linda. Is she here?’

‘She’s photographing The Promises.’

‘Thanks, I’ll find her.’

‘Did you see Al?’

‘Some other time, I think.’

Paul nodded, and went into the dressing-room.

Dallas located Linda at the side of the stage. She watched as Linda went about her business, not disturbing her until she stopped to change film. Then she stepped forward and Linda nearly dropped her camera in surprise.

‘I have to talk to you. Can we go somewhere?’ Dallas asked.

‘Sure, I’m about finished. Why are you here?’

‘It’s a long story, and I need your help. That’s why I’m here.’

‘We’ll take one of the cars back to the hotel,’ Linda decided. ‘I don’t think tonight’s the night I’m going to miss the shot of the century. Hey, Larry,’ she called to one of the roadies, ‘tell Paul I had to go – catch him later.’

Dallas had thought long and carefully about how much she should tell Linda, and in the end she had decided that only the truth would help. Of course, certain things she would leave out – such as the old man dying and her attempt to drown Bobbie. But apart from that, she had planned to be quite open about everything. Linda was too smart to fall for any phony story. To acquire her help she had to be honest, and that meant the whole messy story. If Linda was the friend she hoped she was, she would help out.

They sat in Linda’s hotel room, ordered drinks from room service, and Dallas began her story. She talked for two hours, with only occasional nods from Linda to encourage her. And when she was finished she was surprised to find that she was crying.

Linda handed her a Kleenex, and Dallas said, embarrassed, ‘I haven’t cried since I was a kid.’

‘It’s a sad story,’ commented Linda. ‘God, Dallas, I never knew any of this. I mean I never thought you were the virgin type, I knew you’d been around – haven’t we all. But this… Jesus!’

‘It’s funny, y’know, talking about it and all, it seems so remote. Like half the things happened to someone else. I can’t really believe I did all those things, screwed all those men. I can’t believe it was me. And now this sonofabitch wants me to go through it all again. He’ll make me a star but I’ll be his paid whore.’

‘I’ll help you,’ said Linda quickly. ‘I’ll take the pictures. But you haven’t thought it out clearly. If you’re in the pictures with him, he can turn the whole thing around. You can’t be in the photos, we’ll have to hire a professional.’

‘He won’t go for that.’

Linda lit a cigarette. ‘He will if you’re in it too. We’ll get hold of a black girl – someone that will remind him of Bobbie. You’ll be there – involved, but I’ll make sure the only photos I get are with him and the other girl.’

‘It’s a marvellous idea. But I am not exactly in a position to come up with a black hooker between now and tomorrow night.’

Linda frowned. ‘LA must be crawling with them. Bernie might be able to help out there – he knows everyone.’

‘But you promised not to tell anyone.’

‘Of course not. Is asking him for a girl telling him anything? I’ll make up some story. I’ll have to for Paul anyway – he is not going to be thrilled to discover I’m off to LA for the day.’

‘Listen,’ said Dallas seriously, ‘anytime, anything. One of these days I hope I can pay you back.’

Linda laughed. ‘Wait until the job is done before you thank me. It won’t be
that
easy – but with a little luck we’ll make it. Now come on, let’s take ourselves over to Paul’s suite – they should be back soon, and I’ll give him the news of my impending absence. Probably do him good – maybe he’ll miss me. Only maybe, mind you – but it’s a chance!’

* * *

Paul persuaded Al to do the show. He finished the bottle of scotch, reeled on stage, and the audience screamed. He did a lousy show but the only person who knew about it was him. The screaming never let up for a minute, so who could possibly hear that his voice was slurred and not up to par. He even inserted the word fuck in place of love on several occasions, and no one was any the wiser.

‘Morons!’ he mumbled as he was bundled into his car and sped back to his hotel. He wanted to party but passed out instead, and Paul left him on his bed with Luke watching over him and strict instructions to contact him when he awoke.

It was time to forget about their fight, Paul decided. He had not realized that Al was heading into one of his states, he had thought he was flying high. Thank God he hadn’t left the tour in a fit of ego. Al really needed him, and he would be there.