Flavor of the Month (92 page)

Jahne turned to her, serene. She had proof. She almost shivered as she remembered Sam’s passion in the dark the night before. And the tears that had coursed down his face. “Because he cried over me,” she told Mai, turning back to her own reflection in the mirror.

“Phaw! Men
alvays
cried over me. They cry over beautiful vimmen every day. Vat else?”

And Jahne watched the smile disappear off her own beautiful face. Because she didn’t have an answer.

Lila was beginning to look forward to her time with Marty. At first, when his attention to her on the set became obvious, Lila had accepted it as both a tribute to her beauty, and a stroke of good luck. But beauty is an abstract, and an abstraction isn’t human. Marty craved glamour, and glamour was remote. If she warmed to him, would he still worship at her shrine? No one in Lila’s life had ever given so generously of his time to her. No one had ever really listened. At first, she was like a caged animal suddenly let loose in the jungle. She had pushed and criticized, obstructed Marty in every way. And Marty had hung on. Until she began to trust. Now he listened to her all the time, and she even occasionally listened to him. He knew stuff. He was really smart.

Trust was new to her. How could she ever really trust anyone? Not the PMS, that was for sure. Not Kevin. And not Aunt Robbie, she had gradually come to learn. Not that she believed that Aunt Robbie would deliberately hurt her, as she believed her mother had and would, but Robbie was a little too far out for anyone to consider dependable. Since Lila had laid out her terms of forgiveness, she hadn’t seen Robbie, and she knew why: he was afraid to burn his bridges with Theresa by bringing Lila her “sisters.” Fine. He’d made his choice.

She was spending all her free time with Marty, and she found that she didn’t need anyone else. At first, being seen with Marty in public was enough of an incentive. The man had a presence, a persona, that seemed to appeal to everyone, men
and
women. It wasn’t the allure of sexuality, nor the macho attitude that some men projected. Marty was different.

For one thing, when they were out in a restaurant, or at one of the A-list parties, Marty never took her elbow to steer her around. Lila appreciated that. She hated to be touched, and led around like a dog on a leash. Marty seemed intuitively to know that, and to respect her separateness. As a result, when she walked into a crowded room with him, she felt she walked in with him as an equal, not as a prized possession.

And the more Marty’s attentions to her became known, the more everyone on the set treated Lila special, with a heightened awareness of her presence, of her unspoken needs. She knew that, of the three co-stars, she was the one that was feared. And the fear made Lila feel secure, because she knew that there had to be something to keep people in line, and fear was the basis for power.

Except Marty didn’t use fear to project his strength. It puzzled her.

While Marty was single-minded in his work, he also knew how to spend his free time, the little he had. Marty loved opera, so they went up to San Francisco. And symphonies, ballets, art shows. And theater, although there was less of that in L.A. than one might imagine. Marty seemed to take pleasure in exposing Lila to those things that, despite her privileged background, she had not experienced before. Marty was knowledgeable. And very patient. He was making the down time of the hiatus fun for her. And the publicity of their dates wouldn’t hurt her Emmy chance at all.

Meanwhile, he hadn’t tried to touch her. They spent an evening at her place, sitting on the deck, overlooking the Pacific. Marty had been in production meetings all day, and now he was talking about the new opening for the season. Lila was staring at the water, mesmerized by the spectacle of the sunset over the waves. He droned on while she nodded.

“And we’ll have Theresa play your mother,” Marty said casually.

For a moment, Lila’s expression didn’t change, as if she hadn’t heard what he had said. Then, suddenly, her face was ashen. “What?” she asked.

“Theresa has agreed to play your mother.”

Lila couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “No, Marty. Not my mother.” Lila finally croaked out a hoarse whisper.

Marty didn’t know very much about Lila’s relationship with Theresa, but he knew that it wasn’t very good, and that Lila had very little to do with her. Still, he hadn’t thought she
hated
her mother. But the look on Lila’s face was unmistakable. Lila
did
hate her mother. In that instant, Marty knew that he now had the upper hand.

“Why not? It’s a natural, Lila. Think this through.”

“I won’t work with my mother.” She folded her arms across her chest.

“Come on. Don’t be so quick to make up your mind. Don’t you realize what this could do for your career? This could give you an incredible boost, and it certainly would help the show’s ratings. You’ll need those rating points, don’t forget, when it’s Emmy time, and also when you negotiate your next contract.”

“Fuck the points. I said no!”

Marty wasn’t Italian for nothing. And Machiavelli had nothing on him. At last! The worm has turned, he thought to himself. Marty smiled at Lila. “You have nothing to say about it, Lila. I’m only telling you this as a courtesy, as a director to an actress. I’m not asking your permission.”

She should have known! She should have known not to trust him, not to trust anybody! “Who the fuck are you? God? You’re not God, Marty, you’re just a director.”

“And you’re just an actress, Lila. I
made
you an actress, remember that.” Marty stood up, feeling in control for the first time since he had met Lila. He spoke more casually then he felt. Now he could practice diplomacy, and wind up getting them both what they wanted. “Anyhow,” he said, walking to the edge of the deck, “I haven’t made my final decision yet.”

“About casting my mother?” she asked. Marty could see the hope rising in her eyes.

Marty turned to the sunset for a moment, then turned back and looked directly at Lila. “Listen, I’ve committed to
her
, but we could make a change.”

“Get rid of her?”

“No. We could feature Sharleen. Have Theresa play
her
mother.”

Lila sank onto a chaise, as if his implied threat had a physical impact on her.

“But you said
I
have the lead.” Her wail of betrayal sounded almost childish.

Marty stood up and shrugged. “That was my scenario. But you don’t seem to like it. And we have a play-or-pay contract with Theresa: she’s paid if we use her or not.”

Lila, he could see, was near tears.

“I’m sorry, Lila. I didn’t know you felt this way. You never told me.” He finally had his advantage, and now he was going to push it home. She had had him spinning since they met. Now it was
her
turn. She wanted something from him? This time,
this
time, Lila was going to have to negotiate.

She remained seated. “Please, Marty, couldn’t we talk this out? Why my mother? I mean, the idea of the rich girl leaving home is perfect. Sharleen can’t play that. But you want an old bag like Theresa for the show? There must be a million others who’d jump at the chance. Let’s think of someone else. How about Debbie Reynolds? Or Dina Merrill?” A forced smile strained Lila’s face.

Marty almost felt uneasy at Lila’s desperation; almost, but not quite. The taste of his own recent desperation was still fresh. Only last night, he had dreamt about her, had fantasized watching her undress in front of him, seeing her lying next to him, her long, slim body stretched out, waiting for him, her legs open, inviting, then accepting.

“You’re a very beautiful woman, Lila.” He looked directly into her eyes.

Lila stared up at him, then dropped her eyes. “I know you’re attracted to me, Marty. But…” She stopped.

Marty didn’t say anything. He knew his time had come. She spoke again. “It’s not you.” She paused. “I’m…I don’t enjoy sex, Marty. I mean, I never had sex. I’m still a virgin.”

Marty wasn’t buying that virgin bullshit. Anyhow, he wasn’t one of those men that worshipped at the altar of virginity. “You don’t owe me anything, Lila. I don’t want you to feel that you
have
to do anything. My decisions are based on artistic considerations.”

Lila reached up and took Marty’s hand, pulling him gently back down to the chaise. “But isn’t there something I
can
do? I mean, Marty, I
can’t
work with my mother. You have no idea what she’s done. What it’s like between us. I
hate
her, Marty. I
despise
her. Please, don’t use her, Marty. Please,
please
.”

He felt her free hand touch the zipper of his pants, and he immediately grew hard in reaction. He smiled. “Don’t, Lila. You’re a virgin, remember?”

But she didn’t listen. Or didn’t hear him. She had the zipper down, and his penis between her perfect lips before he even knew what she was doing. Right there, on the deck, in the fading pink light of the sunset. Oh, God, he thought, as the warmth of her mouth enveloped him. He looked down to see her beautiful head moving at his crotch. A beautiful head giving beautiful head. He swelled in her mouth. This wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind, what he had dreamed about, but it was a good place to start.

The phone beside Theresa rang. She turned to Kevin. “Be a dear and answer it for me, will you? I’m hoarse.”

Reluctantly, Kevin did, then handed the phone to Theresa, knowing she would want to take this call. “It’s Paul Grasso.”

Theresa smiled brightly, as if it were a camera, not a phone, she was speaking into. “Paul, darling. How are you?”

“One minute for Mr. Grasso, please.” Then Theresa was put on hold.

Christ, she hated that! Put on hold by a secretary! “Am I old-fashioned, or doesn’t anyone dial their own phones in this town anymore?” she asked aloud as she held for Paul. Then he was on the other end.

“Yes, Paul. How nice to hear from you. Where’s the script?”

As she listened to him, both the color and the smile drained from her face. No. It wasn’t possible. No fuckin’ way. Theresa tried not to let her feelings show in her voice, but the effort was too great. “What do you mean,
they’ve
gone with someone else?
Who’s
gone with someone? You mean
you’ve
gone with someone else.
You’re
the casting director, for chrissakes, aren’t you? Why? I demand to know. I
wanted
that part. That’s
my
part. I have the right to know.”

Theresa was now sitting up on the edge of her chair. Grasso, the goddamn cocksucking dago prick. It was him. Him and Lila. “Lila made you do this, didn’t she?”

Theresa understood now. He mumbled something. “Out of your hands!” she cried. “Out of your hands! And right up your ass. You and Lila! Both of you together! She was jealous. She couldn’t let me be on the same show with her. She’s afraid I’d walk away with the spotlight. She couldn’t
stand
to see me in the spotlight. So she gets
her
way, and I get
nothing
.”

At the other end of the phone, Grasso was yammering. Across the room, Kevin sneered. “Fuck the money. It’s not the money I care about!”

Theresa stopped for a moment, trying to catch her breath. She felt like she was losing it—in front of Kevin, but, worse, in front of Paul Grasso. A nobody. A nothing. He disgusted her, a nasty wop toad of a man. She mustn’t let him hear how desperate she was for the part How desperate she was to prove to everyone—to Lila—that she was still on top. How desperate she was to work, to get before the public again.

She forced her voice to frigid normalcy. Icy calm. “Well, Mr. Paul Grasso, I can see we have nothing else to say to each other. Of course, you realize, you
will
be hearing from my attorney.” She paused. “I don’t care that I get paid anyway. I want that part!” She slammed the receiver down, then flung the phone across the pool, where it clanged against the stone garden wall.

She looked over at Kevin, who, up to this moment, had said nothing, hadn’t even moved. “I guess you heard all that,” Theresa said to her old friend.

Kevin leaned back on his hands and crossed his legs. “You were heard on Capistrano. Killed off a flock of swallows while you were at it.” Theresa was not in the mood for Kevin’s so-called humor right now. “Theresa, I am sorry. But perhaps it’s for the best.”

Theresa snapped her head up, her eyes almost bulging in unconcealed rage. Perhaps she had to show some control in front of Paul Grasso, but not before this blackmailing bastard. “For
whose
best? Lila’s? Certainly not
mine
, Kevin.”

“I just mean that maybe you and Lila shouldn’t be around each other, especially in a work situation. Let things continue to calm down. Wait until you both have had more time apart. You can both use a rest from each other. And then bring us together again. Give Lila what she needs.”

“How the fuck would you know what she needs? What did she tell you?” Theresa shrieked at Kevin, now standing over him, her fists clenched by her side.

Kevin looked up into her face, the sun coming from behind Theresa causing him to squint. “Nothing, Theresa. Only the usual rebellious-teenager stuff. You
know
that.” Kevin put his hand across his eyes to shade them from the glare.

“Listen to me, you little hustler. I know that you’re gloating over this. And that you still hope to cash in big-time with Lila some day. But you can forget it! I wouldn’t wish you on Saddam Hussein, much less my daughter.”

Kevin narrowed his eyes, turned abruptly, and began to walk away.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she screamed in panic.

“I’ve heard enough for one day, Theresa. I’ll be back when you calm down.”

Flora Lee opened her eyes to the pounding at her front door, and, in the darkness that now surrounded her, she couldn’t find the light switch. She heaved herself upright on the edge of the bed, and became aware of the weight in the bed next to her. Dobe. He was still asleep. What time is it? She made out the green figures on the clock on the table next to her bed. Four-thirty-three.
A
.
M
. She could remember flirting with him over dinner at Sharleen and Dean’s, and then Dobe had offered to take her home. She just knew he’d be a wild man in bed, but they’d stopped at a bar, and then another, and—well, she often didn’t remember the rest of her evenings.