The Lonely Lady (42 page)

***

The music pounded at her from the four speakers. She was dancing on the tiny platform behind the bar—the lead spot. There was another girl on a platform in the back of the room but the real action was at the bar.

As she moved she let her eyes wander down the bar. Mike was pushing his way in and there was a man following him. Although she couldn’t remember his name, she recognized him as a producer she had met at the agent’s office. He made motorcycle pictures—cheap action quickies, as the trade called them. She wondered why he was with Mike.

Mike held up his usual glass of orange juice in a gesture of recognition. She nodded and smiled. The timing mechanism in her head told her that she had about five minutes left of her turn. Time enough to give the producer something to stare at. She let herself get into the music and go.

She was sipping an iced tea and vodka when they came into the dressing room.

“This is Mr. Ansbach,” Mike said.

Ansbach held out his hand. “We met at the Gross office.”

“I remember,” she said, shaking his hand.

“You really can dance.”

“Thank you.”

“I mean it. Really dance. Not just shake your tits and ass.”

“Thank you,” she repeated.

“Mr. Ansbach stopped at the apartment,” Mike explained. “He said he had to see you right away. I thought you wouldn’t mind if I brought him over.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I’m glad now I did come,” Ansbach said. “I was interested in one of your story ideas. Gross gave me several of them to read.”

“Which one?” she asked.

“The one about the dancer in a sleazy club in Gary who gets ripped off by a gang of bike riders.”

She nodded. “Those things happen. And I know the girl it happened to. It was pretty hairy. She wound up in a hospital for six weeks.”

“I know they do, but for the movie we have to give it an up-beat ending.”

She didn’t answer.

“Now that I’ve seen you dance, I got another idea. Maybe you can do the part. Mike told me you were an actress too. If you can act half as good as you write and dance, we’re home free.”

“I’m locked in on the circuit for another eight weeks.”

“That’s okay,” Ansbach said quickly. “We’ll need that much time to get the script ready.”

“I’ll need more time than that to write it. It was just a story idea.

“You don’t have to write it. I have writers who know how I work and can get it together in no time.”

“Did you talk to Gross about it?”

He nodded. “He tried to call you but there was no answer, so I got your address from him and decided to give you a try myself.”

“How much are we talking about?” she asked.

“Not much. We haven’t got big money. Ten-day shooting schedules. Non-union crews. All location, no sets.”

“I understand that.”

“Two hundred fifty dollars and screen credit for the original story. If we decide you’re right for the part, and I don’t see why you’re not, three seventy-five a week, two-week guarantee.”

She was silent.

“It’s not much money,” he said quickly. “But it’s a beginning. You got to start somewhere, Miss Randolph.”

“Can I talk to Gross about it?”

“Of course. But try to get back to me tomorrow. I’m committed to start a picture by the end of next month and if it’s not yours I’ll have to set another.”

“I’ll get back to you,” she said.

He held out his hand. “Very nice meeting you, Miss Randolph. You’re a very talented young lady. I hope we can work together.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ansbach.”

She watched the door close behind him, then turned to Mike. “What do you think?”

“Could be.”

“You don’t sound up about him.”

“He’s a weasel. Just get your money up front whatever you do.”

“I’ll rely on Gross to take care of that.” She turned back to the mirror and began to cream her face. “I won’t be long,” she said.

He looked at her reflection in the mirror. “The word on the beach is that the club is going total next week.”

“News travels fast.”

“Going along with them?”

“Do I have a choice?”

He was silent for a moment. “You’re a strange lady. I really don’t understand you. What’s so important about making all that bread?”

“Try living without it.”

“I don’t need that much.”

“You’re not a woman. You can turn it on anytime you want. It’s not that easy for me. I’ve been without and I know what it’s like.”

“Still goin’ to do it if you get the picture?”

She nodded.

He got to his feet. “I’m goin’ to try and talk the bartender into giving me another orange juice.”

“Okay.” She thought as she removed the rest of the cream from her face that he was acting strange, not at all like himself.

But she didn’t know why until he stopped the car in front of the apartment. When he made no move to get out she turned to look at him. “Aren’t you coming in?”

“I’m crashing somewhere else tonight.”

“Anything wrong?”

“You have a friend visiting you.”

He put the Volks into gear and drove off before she could ask another question. She turned and walked up to the house.

Licia was waiting for her in the living room.

Chapter 15

Licia’s voice was gentle and concerned. “You okay, baby?”

JeriLee closed the door and met Licia’s eyes. “I’m okay.”

Licia kissed her cheek, her lips soft against JeriLee’s face. “I was worried about you. You been out here over two weeks and I didn’t hear nothin’.”

“I was working.” JeriLee went into the kitchen, with Licia following. She took out a container of orange juice. “Want a drink?”

Licia gestured at the four containers of orange juice. “’Bout time you got smart. That stuff’s better than what you been drinking.”

JeriLee filled a glass. “It’s not mine. It’s Mike’s. He’s a juice freak like you.”

JeriLee took out the pitcher of iced tea and made herself a drink. “That stud livin’ here with you?” Licia asked.

“Yes,” she answered flatly.

“Serious stuff?”

“No.”

“Then what’s he doin’ here?”

“He’s the landlord.” JeriLee walked back into the living room, kicked off her shoes and sank into the couch. “He makes it easy. He drives, cooks, cleans.”

Licia sat in the chair opposite her. “Fucks too?”

JeriLee didn’t answer.

Licia reached for a cigarette, then stopped and looked at JeriLee. “Got a joint?”

As JeriLee began to roll the joint, she noticed that her hands were shaking. There was no reason for her to be jumpy. Licia hadn’t changed, she hadn’t changed, they were still the same people they had been when they were last together. The grass would help. It would take the edge off. She rolled a bomber big enough to put them both way up there. Carefully she licked the paper, sealed the cigarette and went back into the living room.

Licia had her suitcase open on the couch. She held out a red velvet Cartier box to JeriLee. “I brought you a present,” she said. “Open it.”

Inside, JeriLee found a long rope of oval jade beads.

“Do you like it?” Licia asked anxiously.

“It’s beautiful. But you shouldn’t have done it.”

Licia smiled. “Let me put it on you.”

She took the necklace and placed it over JeriLee’s head. After a moment she nodded. “Look at yourself in the mirror.”

She followed JeriLee into the bedroom. The jade was warm against her skin. JeriLee met Licia’s gaze in the mirror. “Why, Licia?”

Licia moved closer, placing her cheek against JeriLee’s. Her lips brushed against her hair. “Because I love you and missed you.”

JeriLee was silent.

Gently Licia turned her around and kissed her on the mouth. “I missed you so much, baby,” she murmured. “You can’t know how much I wanted to hold you and kiss you and make love to you.”

Suddenly JeriLee felt the tears coming to her eyes and in a moment she was sobbing almost hysterically. Tenderly Licia drew her head down to her breast. “There, baby, there,” she said soothingly. “I understand.”

She led JeriLee back into the living room and picked up the joint. She lit it, took a deep toke, then handed it to JeriLee. “Take a good hit,” she said. “You’ll feel better.”

JeriLee took the smoke deep into her lungs. The grass was good. Mike was right. He got nothing but the best. She took another hit and felt the sudden easing of the tensions. She dabbed at her eyes with a Kleenex. “I don’t get it,” she said in a puzzled voice. “I go up and down like a yoyo.”

Licia took the joint from her and sucked on it. Her eyes watched JeriLee thoughtfully. “You’ve been workin’ hard, honey. You can’t burn it at both ends without paying for it.”

“I have to, Licia, if I don’t want to stay in this business until I shake my tits down to my knees.”

“You’re a long way from that,” Licia said.

“It doesn’t feel like that at three in the morning after you’ve done six turns.”

“It’s not a bad rap, and the money is good,” Licia said, passing the joint back to JeriLee. “Who was that little man here with the stud when I came in?”

“He’s a producer. He’s interested in buying one of my stories for a film. I might even play in it.”

“Is he legit?”

“My agent says so.”

Licia was surprised. “You have an agent? You have been busy. How did you get to him?”

“Through Mike. He knows everybody.”

“What does Mike do?”

“Nothing.” She smiled. “He lives off this apartment.”

There was a faint note of resentment in Licia’s voice. “He’s a pimp.”

“That’s not fair. You don’t even know him.”

“Maybe, but where I come from, a man don’t work, he’s a pimp.”

JeriLee was silent.

Licia took the joint from JeriLee and put it in an ashtray. “I’m not hitting on you, honey,” she said, drawing JeriLee to her. “I’m not holding Mike against you. I know what girls need. Even I can dig a good hard cock once in a while. But I never forget what they really want. There ain’t a man in the world who won’t put you down if he has the chance.

JeriLee was suddenly weary. She felt the energy drain from her. “Mike isn’t like that,” she said.

“We won’t talk no more about it,” Licia said soothingly. “You’re wiped out. You go to bed and get a good night’s rest. We got the next few days to catch up on our talk.”

“How long can you stay?”

“I got a week. Fred’s working in Seattle. I said I’d meet him in Frisco.”

JeriLee didn’t speak.

“I thought it would be nice if you could get some time off. Maybe we could go somewhere and catch up on our rest. I’ve been going at it pretty hard too.”

JeriLee shook her head doubtfully. “I don’t know.”

“We’ll see. Now you go off to bed before you fall on your face.

“What about you?”

“I’ll finish unpacking first. I won’t be too long.”

Licia, watching the door close, was annoyed with herself. She should have known better than to let JeriLee get this far away from her. Especially here where the things JeriLee really wanted were at the tips of her fingers.

She looked around the small apartment. After a moment she had made up her mind. Tomorrow she would look for a more comfortable apartment for JeriLee. Something with enough room for both of them.

The sooner she got JeriLee out of here the better. She could no longer leave JeriLee on her own as much as she had. No matter how much it screwed up her own life, she would have to find a way to bring her back to New York.

Chapter 16

Licia and JeriLee came out of the dust-covered aluminum camper into the bright sunlight. JeriLee’s face was covered with carefully applied smeared dirt and blood.

The A.D. peered at JeriLee’s face anxiously and called to the makeup man. “I think we can use a little more gore. And rough up the bike suit a bit.”

“Where are they shooting now?” JeriLee asked.

“They’re on the road. They should be here in about fifteen minutes. They better,” he muttered, scanning the sky. “Or we’re going to lose the light.”

JeriLee followed the makeup man to a small table set under a tree. A wooden crate served as a seat. The makeup man went to work on her face and then with a small razor blade made several cuts and nicks in her bike suit.

Just as he finished with JeriLee they heard the roar of motors. A moment later the big black Harley Davidson screeched up the ramp past the camera. Behind through a cloud of dust came the pursuing souped-up beach buggy. As it sped past the camera they heard the shrill whistle of the A.D. and the director’s shouted “Cut!”

The motors stopped and the crew immediately began resetting the cameras. The sun was beginning to slide slowly down the sky toward the ocean and they worked feverishly to gain time against the dying light.

The stunt driver on the bike flipped up his visor. He took a can of beer from the outstretched hand of one of the crew and walked to the edge of the platform that hung out over the ocean.

“Is he really going over it?” Licia asked JeriLee.

JeriLee nodded.

“That’s a seventy-foot fall.”

“That’s his business.”

“It’s not my kind of business,” Licia said.

The director came up with the driver of the dune buggy, who was wearing a long blond wig and black vinyl bike suit exactly like JeriLee’s.

“You know what you have to do?” the director asked the stunt man.

“Yeah, the minute Tom goes over the cliff I get out of the car and JeriLee gets in.”

“It has to be fast,” the director said. “We’ve only got one camera to work with. It will pan out after Tom, then back to the car. The other camera will pick up his fall. You got maybe thirty seconds, no more.”

The stunt man nodded. “Okay.”

The director turned to JeriLee. “Once you’re in the car wait for my signal before getting out. Then you walk to the edge and look down. Take a long beat then turn and walk slowly along the cliff toward the cops who will be approaching you. I’m going to try to catch you in silhouette against the setting sun.”

JeriLee nodded.

“We’ll be ready in five minutes,” the director said. “They’re getting the shot of the patrol car coming on the ramp now.”

“How are you holding up, honey?” Licia asked.