Lovers and Gamblers (60 page)

He banged the phone down. It rang again immediately. It was the manager just wanting to inform him that Al King had signed chits totalling fifty thousand dollars. Terrific. Now he would have to haul Al away from the tables before he did any more damage. He had only been down there half an hour.

There was a knock at the door. Bernie stood there sweating.

‘Have you seen Al?’ Paul questioned.

‘Yeah. He just boarded the elevator with a real water buffalo. Jeeze – you’ve got to have a grudge against your tool to go near a barracuda like that.’ Bernie wheezed his way over to the table with the booze on, and poured himself a shot. ‘With his money he should buy himself a new wife!’

‘At least he’s away from the tables.’

The phone rang and Paul snatched it up.

Melanie’s voice came through clearly. ‘I’m glad you agree,’ she said. ‘I’ve even decided to let you have the children.’

‘What?’

‘You want them, don’t you? They’ll be better off with you. Manny and I will be leading an erratic life – not the sort of life children will fit into.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘Aren’t you listening to me?’ Melanie shrilled. ‘Do I have to go through it all again?’

‘You want to go to Mexico with Edna. Is that it? Well, I can tell you now…’

‘You fool!’ snapped Melanie, ‘
I’m
divorcing
you
in Mexico. I’m marrying Manny Shorto and we want to do it as soon as possible.’

Paul did not believe what he was hearing.

‘You can keep the children,’ Melanie shrilled on. ‘As I said before, they’ll be better off with you. Of course the Mexican divorce will be a temporary step until we can arrange a proper English divorce. Manny wants everything to be done properly. He…’

She talked, whilst Paul sat down and listened unbelievingly. She had never gone home. She had stayed in New York. She had run into Manny, an old flame. Jesus – old was the operative word – he must be at least seventy. They had rekindled the flame. This time it had been too big for both of them…

Paul replaced the receiver, cutting off her voice. First Edna, now Melanie. What was going on? He slumped into the couch.

‘Everything cool?’ inquired Bernie, scratching under a sweaty armpit.

‘You’re going to love it,’ replied Paul, still in a state of shock. ‘Melanie’s divorcing me. She’s getting married to Manny Shorto.’

Bernie laughed, ‘Come on, man…’ He trailed off when he realized Paul was serious. He didn’t know what to say. Paul was slumped out like a man in an accident – yet he had been balling that Linda Cosmo most of the trip – so the wife couldn’t mean that much. But who knew with married couples… What the fuck… For the first time in his life Bernie was at a loss for words.

* * *

Al sat fully dressed in the living room of his luxury suite whilst the redhead danced for him. She had discarded every stitch of clothing except for her shoes. The huge knockers were a silicone job, with sad inverted nipples. Her frizzy red pubic hair grew down the inside of her thighs. She was not the most tempting sight he had ever seen as she weaved and swayed somewhat clumsily in front of him.

He could make them do anything. What were they, dumb zombies? A half hour ago this woman had been a total stranger, now she was prepared to do anything for him. If he asked her to lie down and open her legs so he could take a few photos she would do it. She would do it for Marlon Brando, Robert Redford, Al Pacino… Any famous man. The list was endless. She would probably even do it for Richard Nixon – and definitely for Jimmy Carter.

Al was just deciding how he could get rid of her when Paul came bursting in.

The redhead stopped dancing abruptly and looked for something to cover herself with.

Paul ignored her. ‘We made a winning double,’ he announced. ‘Melanie’s divorcing me – wants to marry Manny Shorto. Are you ready for that?’

Al started to laugh.

Paul said, ‘What the hell are you laughing at?’

Al was doubled up with laughter – ‘She got herself a star. For Christ sake – surely you can see the funny side of it?’ He beckoned the redhead over who had decorously covered herself with a cushion, favouring her lower half.

‘What would you do, darlin’, if Manny Shorto wanted to marry you?’

‘Huh?’

He reached for a siliconed tit and bounced it playfully. ‘Would you say yes? Come on – truth now – would you say yes?’

‘I’m married,’ she replied, not quite comprehending the question.

‘Married!’ he exclaimed. ‘What the fuck are you doing here then?’

‘Separated,’ she added quickly.

‘The bitch never even went back to England,’ Paul said morosely. ‘She shacked up in New York with that old prick – leaving the kids all alone.’

Al gave the redhead a little shove in Paul’s direction. ‘Want to give her one?’ he offered. ‘Wham bam it out of your system?’

‘No, thank you,’ said Paul, at the same time as the redhead objected with – ‘Hey – what is this?’

‘Oh, sorry,’ Al apologized. ‘You only fuck stars, is that it?’

‘I think I’ll get dressed…’

‘Do that,’ Al agreed. ‘Pack the silicone away – oh, and next time your husband’s home, borrow his razor and shave your thighs – right now you remind me of King Kong’s mate.’

‘My husband could beat the shit out of you,’ she hissed. ‘Who do you think you are?’

‘Just a superstar,’ he sang.

‘I can’t get over it. After all I’ve given her.’ Paul sat down, shaking his head.

The redhead picked up her clothes and put them on as fast as possible. Two bright spots of anger burned into her cheeks.

‘Faggot!’ she spat at Al as she was leaving.

‘For you – any day,’ he minced in reply. ‘Never could get it up for a gorilla!’

She slammed the door with a resounding bang.

‘Did I interrupt something?’ asked Paul, startled by the noise of the door.

‘Absolutely nothing. Why don’t you fix us a couple of belts and tell me the whole story.’

* * *

Dallas lay in bed, shivering slightly, unable to sleep.

Who the hell did Lew Margolis think he was playing games with? Some out-of-town hick? Some dumb little girl?

She would soon show
him
.

She relived the latter part of the evening in her mind. The part where Cody was waiting for her to get home, his face drained of colour and worried.

What had she done to upset Lew Margolis, he wanted to know. What
had
she done? Because Lew Margolis had summoned him to his house on Sunday and informed him
Man Made
Woman
was being cancelled. ‘Dallas just doesn’t come across, just doesn’t make it,’ Lew had said – his face as impassive as a snake’s. ‘I’m opting out now, no good throwing more money into it.’

‘Now?’ Cody had stammered.

‘As of today,’ Lew agreed. ‘Tell your client not to bother turning up tomorrow. She won’t be needed.’

Cody knew that something was desperately wrong. He had seen the daily rushes himself. Dallas came across like a million dollars. She looked magnificent, and her acting abilities were more than adequate for the part.

‘What about her contract?’ Cody had asked.

‘It will be honoured up to the first option date,’ Lew replied. ‘That’s only fair.’

Cody had been speechless. The whole thing was ridiculous. Lew Margolis must be some kind of nut. Then it came to him. This had to be a personality clash. Something had happened between Dallas and Lew. Something big enough to cause this lunacy. For it was lunacy – Lew’s studio stood to lose if they opted out on
Man Made Woman
before it even reached the television screens. Everyone stood to lose.

‘So what happened?’ Cody insistently questioned Dallas.

She shrugged. ‘Nothing.’

‘It can’t have been nothing,’ he snapped. ‘You were at his party last night. It must have been something that happened there… something you did or said. Did he ever try to come on with you?’

Dallas didn’t dare to glance in Linda’s direction. She wanted to tell Cody not to worry. Everything would be fine in the morning. Everything would be fine when she reminded Lew Margolis of a certain set of photographs. ‘No, he never did. The only approach I’ve ever had from that family has been strictly female.’

‘Female?’ echoed Cody, puzzled.

‘Doris.’

Cody made a disbelieving face.

‘She’s a dyke,’ Dallas insisted. ‘She tried to grab me – I turned her down.’

‘Come on, Dallas,’ he said patiently. ‘This is
the
town for gossip, and not a word of Doris Andrews being a lesbian has
ever
got around. If she was, the world would know.’

‘Well, she is,’ insisted Dallas stubbornly.

‘Hmmm…’ Cody was still sceptical. ‘We’ll have to work out a press release – we’ll have to tread very carefully. I just don’t know…’

‘Let’s all sleep on it. Tomorrow might change everything. Besides, I am bushed, I can’t even think straight… Hold any statements until we speak tomorrow.’

He nodded. God, she was taking it well. Any other actress would be hysterical by now. He wondered if she fully realized what she was losing. Not just the money, but the shot at instant fame, the shot at becoming a household name in a matter of weeks. Without that cherry the other offers might dry up. After all, who was she? And the big question would be why had she been dropped? Acting was like gambling in a way. One minute you were hot – the next cold. It could happen to anyone. But when you were cold – oh boy – nobody wanted to know.

Thank God she had the Mack contract. Although he would have felt a lot more secure if her face was on every billboard. Aarron Mack was no fool. He would want to know why Lew Margolis was firing her. And what was Lew Margolis going to say? Cody didn’t even want to think about it.

‘Another drink?’ Linda offered.

He declined. He had to find a hotel to spend the night in. The thought of another evening with Carol Cameron was too much to take.

* * *

Dallas was up at six. She drank endless cups of coffee, and at nine o’clock she called Lew Margolis at the studio and got his secretary who said that he wasn’t in yet. Of course she could phone him at home, but Doris would be there, and that just wouldn’t be wise.

She waited until ten and called the studio again. ‘Mr. Margolis is in a meeting,’ the secretary said.

‘Tell Mr. Margolis to call me back as soon as he can. It’s urgent.’

Linda was just waking. ‘What’s the plan of action?’ she asked.

‘I’ll make that bastard sorry,’ Dallas replied, her eyes steely. ‘Who the fuck does he think he’s messing with?’

Linda said, ‘You need any help, I’m here.’

Dallas nodded. ‘Thanks. But this creep I can manage all on my own. He seems to have forgotten about the photos.’

‘I know that now is probably not quite the time to ask but I’m busting to know. What happened with you and the great white master last night?’

‘He’s a prick,’ replied Dallas dismissively. ‘I guess you were right.’

Linda didn’t probe. She could see that Dallas’s mind was elsewhere.

Lew Margolis did not call back.

At eleven o’clock Dallas drove to the studio. She drove past the studio gates with a wave and parked near Lew’s office. His secretary looked flustered to see her.

‘It’s all right,’ Dallas said. ‘I’m sure he’s expecting me.’

Unsure, the secretary buzzed her boss.

‘Send her in,’ he commanded.

Dallas strode scornfully into his office and perched on the side of his marble desk.

‘Hi, Lew. What seems to be the problem?’

His small eyes flicked over her body. He chomped steadily on a thick cigar. ‘No problem.’

‘I think there is.’

‘Yes?’

‘Yes. I think you’ve made a couple of hasty moves. I think you’re forgetting a few things.’

His nostrils twitched, a nervous habit he had acquired twenty years previously. ‘Cunt,’ he said evenly, ‘stupid cunt. I took a lot from you, but when it comes to messing with my wife… You filthy whore.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘You know goddamn right well what I’m talking about,’ he sneered. ‘Pervert! Degenerate! I took a lot of flak from you – but when you try to put your stinking hands on my wife…’

Gradually it dawned on Dallas that Doris had been making up stories. She got off the desk. Stood facing him, shaking with fury.

‘You’re screwing your facts up. I never tried to touch your wife – she came after me.’

‘Lying cunt,’ stated Lew, not believing a thing she said. ‘You go near my wife again and I’ll have you fixed permanently. I’ll have your legs broken – your face smashed up. Please believe me, these things can be arranged.’

Dallas attempted to keep her voice even. ‘I don’t know what Doris has told you, but…’

Lew ground the remains of his cigar into an ashtray. ‘Don’t even mention her name,’ he warned.

‘I’ll mention what I like,’ she flashed back. ‘I’ll mention certain photos I have of you that Doris might be interested in seeing. Keep this shit up, and they’ll be in her hands today.’

Lew laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant laugh. ‘What photos?’ he jeered.

‘You know what photos.’

He laughed again. ‘Do you think I’m a fool? Do you think I have got where I am today by letting cunts like you get the better of me? Those photos don’t exist any more – they ceased to exist weeks ago. The set hidden in your house – gone. The set you gave me – destroyed.’

‘You’re forgetting the negatives.’

‘I’m forgetting nothing. Go to your bank – check out your safety deposit box.’ He chuckled. ‘Sometimes it helps to have power in this town.’

‘You’re bluffing.’

‘Don’t count on it. I was going to keep you on in the series – you were good – you could have been a big star. But when you tried to lay your filthy whore’s hands on my wife, you went too far… So get out.’ His eyes gleamed with malice. ‘You never honestly believed you’d got the better of
me
, did you?’

She left the studio in a hurry, drove straight to her bank. He had to be bluffing – how the hell could anyone open another person’s private safety deposit box. Banks were places of trust, it was impossible.

She requested her box, went in a private cubicle to open it, stared in dismay. It was empty.