Unfinished Symphony (12 page)

"I don't care about that, Mommy. I should be with you."
"You can't be
^-
with me," she whined. "I just can't have a daughter your age."
I thought quickly, remembering what her friend Sandy had thought.
"I could be your younger sister. You told people you had one," I suggested quickly.
"How do you know that?"
"I met some woman here the first time I came. Her name was Sandy and she thought I was your younger sister surprising you," I said.
"She would." She smiled and looked at me. "We do look like sisters. I mean, I look young enough to be your sister, don't' I?"
"Yes, Mommy, you do."
"See," she pounced jabbing her forefinger at me. "That's just the problem. You can't call me Mommy. A younger sister doesn't call her older sister Mommy, does she?"
"I won't.
"You'll forget."
"I won't," I insisted.
She relaxed as she thought about my
suggestion.
"If I had a younger sister here, it would certainly make everyone believe me even more," she thought aloud. "That's right, it would," I said nodding.
"You can only call me Sis or Gina. You can't even forget and call me Haille."
"I never did, Mommy."
"Mommy!"
"Well, there's no one here right now," I said quickly. "Archie's not going to like this. He'll be furious with me," she said with a shake of her head.
"He has no right to be furious with you. You've done everything he wanted, haven't you?"
"Yes, yes I have," she said. She stared at me and then she smiled. "He won't be unhappy when I tell him he has another prime client anyway," she said.
"Another prime client?"
"You, silly. You're beautiful. You can become a model and an actress, too. We'll tell everyone I called you out here to develop your career. Just like me. Then we really will be sisters!" she exclaimed. "Maybe we'll even get to do something together." I shook my head.
"I could never--"
"Sure you could. It's so easy. You smile when they want you to smile and you bat your eyelashes when you have to and before you know it, you have an assignment and they're paying you hundreds of dollars an hour just to pose."
"I don't know if I can do that," I said, recalling what I had learned from Spike already about the business.
"Believe me, you can do it," she said. "Okay, you can have the second bedroom and we'll try it. If it doesn't work out, you have to promise you'll return to the Cape and go back to school. Well? You wanted to be with me, this is how you can be with me. Make up your mind."
I stood there, speechless for a moment. Could I really turn down a chance to be with Mommy again? To wait for the perfect opportunity to find out who my father was? Before I had a chance to really think about her suggestion, we heard the doorbell.
"Who the hell is that so early?" she muttered and rose to go to the door. It was Sandy Glee.
"I saw you," she sang looking past Mommy at me. "I saw you from my patio coming up the walkway. So, Gina. Aren't you going to introduce me to your surprise?"
"Melody," Mommy said turning to me, "you see why you can't keep any secrets here. Everyone's a snoop. This is my kid sister," she said, eyeing me warily.
"I knew it," Sandy remarked with a clap of her slender hands.
"She's coming to stay with me for a while and try her luck in Hollywood like the rest of us nitwits."
"Richard's going to represent her, too?"
"Yep."
"Good. Welcome to the fight," Sandy said. "I'm having a few people over tomorrow night for a pot luck dinner if you want to introduce her around," Sandy said. "About seven."
"We'll be there," Mommy promised.
"See you later, Sis," Sandy said waving. She left the apartment and Mommy spun around to me with a wide smile on her face.
"It worked. I knew it. I do look young enough to be your sister. In this town everyone believes everyone else's lies. It's a perfect place for people who hate the truth.
"Welcome home, Melody," she said sincerely. "I can finally throw my arms around you."
Even as she hugged me, giving me the affection I so desperately needed, I had to wonder: What had I gotten myself into?

7
New Beginnings
.
Mommy made us some coffee and we sat and

talked in her small kitchen, catching up on what had happened to both of us since the day she had left me in Provincetown.

"I really did hate leaving you behind," she said. "You remember how hard it was for me to do that, don't you? I think I cried all the way from
Provincetown to New York City, but Archie, I mean Richard, was right in advising me not to take you along. It was a hard trip, struggling for work along the way, trying to get meetings with important people in the big cities, going from one cheap motel to the other, sometimes barely having enough money to feed ourselves. You would have hated every minute. Many nights you would have been left alone in some crummy motel room. Some of them didn't even have television sets in the rooms.

"How could that life compare to being in the fresh ocean air, going to a good school, eating well . . . You understand why I did it, don't you, honey? You don't blame me anymore?" she asked, her voice shaking.

I took a deep breath and shifted my eyes away so she couldn't see how deeply I had been hurt. Kenneth had once told me I might as well have had translucent skin. It was that easy to see my thoughts and feelings. However, there was no sense being dishonest and lying to my mother now that I had found her, I thought.

"I used to hate you for it, Mommy," I admitted. "I used to sit there in Laura's room and listen hard through the walls for the phone to ring and hate you for not calling, hate you for making promises you wouldn't keep."

"I know. And that bothered me, too, but Richard kept saying, 'If you call her and can't send for her, it will be even more cruel, won't it?' He was right."

"He wasn't right. I needed to hear your voice, Mommy," I insisted.
She slammed down her coffee cup so hard it nearly shattered on the table.
"You've got to stop blaming me for things. I can't have any stress," she whined. "Stress brings on age and wrinkles and makes you look terrible and then you can't get jobs. The camera picks up every little detail, you know. They don't want you if they can't use you for close-ups. I won't get any work. Is that what you want to happen? Richard won't stand for it anyway. He won't let you stay here," she warned.
I gazed around the apartment, just realizing what she was saying.
"Does he live here, too?"
"Well what do you think? You have no idea how expensive it is to live and work in Los Angeles. Apartments like this are hard to come by. What would be the point of both of us having our own apartment and paying two rents?"
"Are you married?" I asked, holding my breath.
"No, we never got married. I don't want to get remarried for a long, long time; but Richard is . . . well, he's more than my agent; he's my financial manager. He takes care of all our money needs. He does that for all his clients."
"How many clients does he have?" I asked.
"A half dozen, but none earn as much as I do right now, so you see why it's so important everything remains smooth for us," she repeated. "No more talk about the terrible past," she said, waving her hands over the table. "I don't want to hear about how you suffered and I don't want to be reminded about what I did when I lived there. Don't ask me any questions about any of them, and don't even bring their names up in front of me," she ordered. "That's the rule if you want to live here, understand? I mean it, Melody." She glared at me, her eyes colder than I ever recalled them.
"Even Kenneth?" I asked.
"Yes, yes, yes, even Kenneth. Nobody. I forbid it. I didn't have a life before this. That's the way I want to think now. It's what Richard says I should do. These are changes we had to make for our own wellbeing. I hate being selfish, but it's a good selfishness because it helps us find success."
"Why did he have to change his name, Mommy? I never believed that story about Archie being his nickname."
"You're right. Archie was never his name. It was his older brother's name and he took it so he could be thought of as older when he first left home. That's a big difference between men and women. Men like to be thought of as older. They don't get punished for being older and turning gray with wrinkles, but we do.
"Anyway," she continued, "his brother got himself into big trouble with loan sharks and the like and as soon as Richard found out, he dropped that name like a hot coal so they wouldn't mistakenly come after him. That's why he never liked to talk about his family. He was ashamed of them. His father wasn't any better. Now, don't mention any of this in front of him. Understand? He would be furious with me. He's very sensitive about it."
"I won't say a thing," I said, not really believing the story anyway.
"Good. As long as you do what you're told, we'll be fine. I think," she said, still not sure.
She looked at me hard again and then tilted her head, smiling.
"I like that outfit you're wearing."
"Dorothy Livingston bought it for me."
"Did she? You and I are almost the same size. We can share things, but you've got to take good care of whatever I give you to wear, okay? Some of my things are very special and designed for auditions. Did you bring a lot of your own stuff to California?"
"Not a lot, no."
"Where are your things?"
"At the Livingstons'."
"Well, I guess you'll have to go get your stuff. Don't tell her too much when you go back." She thought a moment. "I know what you should say," she added with excitement. "Tell her you're going back to Provincetown. You probably won't see her again anyway, and that way, she'll tell everyone else who asks about you that you left."
"Why don't I just tell her the truth?" I asked. She laughed.
"You never tell anyone the truth if you don't have to, honey. That's something you keep in your back pocket as a last resort. Take it from someone who's had to make her way on the road of life the hard way. I know from where I speak. The less you tell people about yourself, the better off you'll be later. There's always a jam to get out of and the truth can reduce your options. Richard taught me that lesson real well," she said, nodding.
"Okay," she continued, "let's look at where you'll sleep." She rose to go to the doorway of the second bedroom.
I followed her and she snapped on the light. A dull glow fell from the ceiling because the fixture was full of dust.
"This is going to be your room. We have only one bathroom, as you see, so don't hog it. You can help me keep the whole place clean. It's too much for a working girl to do that and stay pretty enough for an audition at a moment's notice anyway. That's why it looks a little disorganized right now," she said, but I remembered that Mommy was never a very good housekeeper. My stepfather Chester and I did most of the heavy cleaning in our trailer back in Sewell.
I studied the small bedroom. The walls were a faded pink, scratched, scuffed and chipped. Even the guest room at Holly's in New York with its one window was more comfortable and cozier-looking than this bare-walled, dusty room with a bed now covered with clothing, cartons of files, old issues of movie magazines and trade papers. The thin rug was badly worn in places, its thin threads frayed and unraveling. The curtains on the two windows were limp from dust and bleached from the sunlight. Large cobwebs dangled in the corners of the ceiling. I noticed a pile of what looked like thin briefcases in the right corner.
"You'll have to clean up a bit in here, but don't lose anything."
"What's that in the corner?" I asked.
"Oh, that you can't touch. Those are Richard's watches, antique watches. He sells them on the side. A friend of his got him into it here and he's made a nice bundle of pocket money doing it."
"He sells antique watches? I thought he was an agent with a half dozen clients."
"Everyone trying to break into the business does something else in the meanwhile, Melody. Most of the people living here work as waiters or waitresses in restaurants, some valet park cars, some even pack groceries. Anything to keep food on the table and pay the rent until you hit it big."
"I know. Dorothy's chauffeur is an actor. He told me he was in a few movies."
"What's his name?" she asked quickly.
"Spike. I don't remember his last name."
"Spike. I know ten Spikes if I know one," Mommy said with a laugh.
We both turned as the door opened and Archie Marlin entered. The moment he set eyes on me, his face became flushed with surprise and then anger.
"What the hell? How did she get here?" he demanded. He closed the door sharply and stood facing us with his hands on his hips, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. He pulled it out. "Huh?" he said pointing the cigarette at me. "Did you send for her behind my back?"
"No, Richard. A friend of hers from Sewell saw my picture in the En Vogue catalogue. She sent her the catalogue and Melody brought it to someone who knew advertising. He tracked me down for her and she came out to L.A. to find me."
"That's just great," he said throwing up his arms. "That's just what we need right now. Your daughter," he said with disgust.
"But no one knows she actually found me, do they, honey?" she asked me.
I shook my head.
"Big deal. What are we going to do with her now?" he asked, as if I were some puppy left on their doorstep. "And just when I had everyone believing you were young enough to play their parts."
"That's not going to be a problem. We worked it out," Mommy told him.
"Yeah? How?" he said. He dropped himself into the worn easy chair, ashes from his cigarette raining down on his pants and the chair. He didn't seem to notice or care.
"Sandy thought she was my younger sister. Remember the story you told me to tell? That I have a younger sister back home in the Midwest?" she said, nodding to get him to remember. I imagined he had trouble keeping track of all the lies they had spread from West Virginia to California.
"Yeah, I remember. So?"
"So don't you see?" She turned to me. "Melody came after me, following me, looking for a career herself," Mommy said. He turned from her and gazed at me with sudden interest.
"Younger sister? Looking for a career herself, huh?" He sat forward. "Come a little closer," he ordered.
"Go on, honey. Richard doesn't bite," Mommy said with a smile.
I took a few steps toward him and he raised his lusty green eyes to look at me, lingering over my body in a way that made me feel naked beneath his gaze. His lips curled.
"Yeah, she's a looker now, ain't she? How old are you again? Never mind. From now on, you're twenty-one, see?"
"Twenty-one?" I looked at Mommy, but she just smiled and nodded. I turned back to Richard. "No one will believe that," I told him.
"Of course they will. They won't care if you're lying or not anyway, which is more important. Yeah," he said nodding and smiling as his eyes burned through my clothes, "I can find her some work."
"I'd rather find my own," I said and he stiffened. "You got any money?"
"Yes. Grandma Olivia gave me traveling money."
"Well, that's not much. The rent here's high and groceries and everything else costs a lot. If you're going to stay with us, you're going to have to pull your fair share, right Gina?" he said.
For a moment I had forgotten that was the phony name Mommy had taken for herself. I squinted with confusion and then remembered and looked at her.
"He's right, Melody. You're big enough and old enough to make your own way now. And besides, Richard might just make you a star too."
"I might," he said nodding. "I always thought she was a pretty girl, being she's your daughter," he said, smiling at Mommy. She beamed. "So," he said sitting back, "you saw your mother in the En Vogue catalogue. I got her that job," he bragged, "and we made some money on it, didn't we, Gina?"
"Yes, we did, Richard."
"Course, we spent it all, but I got her another job yesterday too. I just wrapped up the deal, honey," he said.
Mommy squealed.
"Oh, that's wonderful. See, honey? I am making it here. What's the job?"
"You're going to demonstrate some new perfume over at the Beverly Center and then be a model for makeup demonstrations," he declared.
Mommy held her smile, but it lost most of its bright light.
"Well, what about that role in the movie, Richard?" she asked softly.
"We'll see. They're still thinking about you," he said. "You might get a call back tomorrow in fact."
Her smile warmed again.
"Good. Well, Melody has to return to where she was staying and get her clothes and things, Richard."
"Oh yeah? Where were you staying?" he asked me.
"With the sister of a friend in Beverly Hills," I replied.
"Beverly Hills? Well, well, well, ain't we coming up in the world?" He laughed. "You sure you want to lower yourself and come live here with us common folk?"
"I was leaving their house tomorrow morning anyway," I said. "Mrs. Livingston was just doing her sister a favor by helping me."
"All right. I'll take her to go fetch her things. I like driving around Beverly Hills, gives me a chance to pick out the house I'm going to buy real soon," he said with a faraway look in his eyes.
"Oh, that's so nice of you, Richard. You see, honey? We'll work it all out as long as you listen. Isn't that right, Richard?"
"That's right," he said sternly gazing at me. "As long as you know who's running things around here and do exactly what I tell you to do."
"He knows what's best for us, honey," Mommy said. I looked from her to him, his glaring eyes full of self-satisfaction and I nodded to myself, recalling Christina's words and thoughts. Mommy did need me now more than ever. Somehow, someway, I would free her of the hold this slimy man had over her, I pledged.
He seemed to sense the challenge I threw back at him. He pulled his shoulders up, curled his lips and nodded at the door.
"Let's go. I have important things to do."
"Thank you, Richard," Mommy told him. "It's very nice of you." He shrugged.
"As long as she does her fair share, it's no skin off my teeth," he said. "And," he added firmly, threateningly, "as long as she remembers she's your sister and not your daughter."
"She won't forget. See you soon, Sis," Mommy said with a laugh. Richard gazed at me, his head tilted, a wry smile on his lips now.
"Well, what do you say?"
I looked back at Mommy, whose face coaxed me to do what was expected.
"See you soon . . Gina," I managed, even though the word wanted to choke my throat.
Richard Marlin roared with satisfaction and opened the door.
"Miss Simon," he said stepping back with an exaggerated bow, "shall we fetch your things at the Livingstons'?"
I walked out, my heart pounding, but my spine as straight as Grandma Olivia's could be when she was faced with a challenge. Maybe she was right, I thought. Maybe I was more like her than I wanted to admit.
"So, tell me how you've been since we left you back at the Cape," Richard said as we drove out of the parking lot. He had a different car, an older car with dozens of dents and scratches and a crack in one of the rear windows. The passenger seat in front had a deep tear in it, too. He glanced at me. "You don't look the worse for it. I'd say they fed you well, didn't work you too hard."
"I managed to get along," I said and he laughed.
"I bet you did fine living with those clam diggers."
"They're not clam diggers. They're lobster fishermen and they harvest cranberries. It's hard work and you've got to know the sea and--"
"Right, right. It's great if you want to get up with the worms and break your back every day. That's not for me, not for Richard Marlin," he boasted. "I'm going to have the easy life and soon, too. I've already started doing better than most out here."
From what I saw, I thought he had been living better when he was a bartender back in Sewell.
"What happened to your other car?" I asked. "It was much nicer."
"What? Oh. It don't pay to have a nice car in the city. People are always knocking into it, and if you have a nice car, someone's bound to steal it for parts anyway. Lots of big actors and producers have old, beat-up-looking cars like this one," he assured me. "So they won't be noticed so easily, see? Once people find out you're an agent and a manager, they hound you to death hoping you'll take them on as clients."
"So you're afraid of having too many clients?" I asked, incredulous.
"I've got more than I can handle now. We're going to make it big, your mother and me. You'll see." He looked at me closely and then turned back to the road. "You sure you want to stay with us?" he asked. "We won't have time to do any baby-sitting."