Winning is Everything (29 page)

62 

“Let’s eat!” said Phyliss, ushering Kip through her front door. “Follow me. There must be
something
decent in the fridge. I told the cleaning lady to wipe out Gristede’s today.”

Kip followed Phyliss through the living room into her kitchen.

“Welcome to paradise!” said Phyliss, opening her refrigerator.

Kip took a seat on a tall stool next to a counter.

Phyliss stared into the cavernous fridge. “Deli, I think. A little this … a bit of that …” She began pulling wrapped items off the shelves. “Some roast beef, a little tongue, cole slaw, and … God knows, I’d never say nay-nay to a little chopped liver. What do you think I should drink with all this?”

“How ‘bout a Bromo-Seltzer?” asked Kip.

“Cute, cutie, real cute. Keep it up and I’ll get you a starring role in the bus-and-truck tour of
Go Fuck Yourself /”

“Come on, I was teasing,” said Kip. “What happened to that fine-tuned sense of humor?”

“Forgive me,” said Phyliss, handing him a load of wrapped meats and relishes. “Ever since I’ve been going to this fat doctor for these injections, I’ve become a little bananas. But at least they help curb my appetite.”

Kip looked at the multitude of ingredients Phyliss was slapping together. “Really?” he asked. Then he stood up saying, “I think I’d better be going.”

“You mean you’re not going to sit here and watch me clean out my Amana?”

“I think not,” said Kip.

Phyliss looked down at the microcosm of delicatessen that was sprawled out across her kitchen counter and was immediately consumed by a tidal wave of guilt. “Oh, Christ …” She punched a quarter pound of pastrami. “Maybe one of these days I’ll learn to start liking myself.”

“I hope so,” said Kip. “I sure like you.”

“That does it!” said Phyliss, scooping up an armful of food. “Open the fridge for me, cutie. Everything’s going back. I’m gonna step on that scale in the quack’s office tomorrow morning and weigh less than Twiggy.”

“Good for you!” said Kip, opening the refrigerator door. Phyliss picked up the many items she’d removed from the fridge and placed them back on their shelves. Kip assisted.

“There!” she said, closing the refrigerator door. “Aren’t you proud of me?”

“You’re terrific.”

“That’s what my shrink says,” said Phyliss. “So why don’t I believe him?” Not waiting for an answer, she grabbed Kip’s hand and led him out of the kitchen into the living room.

“I guess I’ll be going home now,” said Kip.

“Just as well,” said Phyliss. “I gotta be at the fat doctor sometime after the rooster cock-a-doodle-dos, so I guess for tonight your cock’ll just not have to do.”

Kip smiled. “Thanks for dinner. Picking up a tab for seven people. You must have quite an expense account.”

“Sure, cutie. Maybe I’d be smaller if my expense account weren’t so big.-

‘Good night,” said Kip.

“Huggy-huggy, kissy-kissy,” said Phyliss, putting her arms around Kip’s waist.

Kip bent over and kissed the powerful agent politely on the lips.

“Is that the best you can do?” she asked.

“Well …” Kip smiled. “It
is
only our first date. I don’t want you to lose respect for me.”

“Cutie, you are cute. Every time I think you’ve stepped in dog shit, you redeem yourself. What’s your secret?”

“It’s charm, Phyliss,” said Kip, planting another short kiss on her lips. “All future stars have it….”

Kip kissed Phyliss again, turned, and left the apartment.

Phyliss walked back through the living room and wound up, once again, in her kitchen. She made a beeline for the Amana and again pulled out all the many foods she’d only recently put back. She laid out several pieces of bread and began putting together a fat and hefty sandwich.

“But Dr. Crownsky,” protested Phyliss as she sat in the doctor’s office early the following morning after being weighed. “How could I have
gained
two and a half pounds when I’ve starved myself all week?”

Dr. Crownsky knew better. He’d made his killing in fat women. “You must work harder,” he told Phyliss. “These injections are only appetite depressants. The rest is up to you.”

“I know … I know …”

“Are you frustrated in your work?” asked the doctor.

“No, no,” said Phyliss. “The work is fine. I’m doing great.”

“Your love life, perhaps?”

“Love life?” asked Phyliss.

“Right,” said the doctor. “We’re finding a definite link between obesity and sexual fulfillment.”

“Really?”

Dr. Crownsky filled a syringe with a thick, yellow liquid. “All right, Miss Dodge,” he said. “Come and get it!”

Phyliss stood up, pulled down her girdle, picked up her dress, and the good doctor stabbed her in her left cheek, sending an ample shot of feelgood amphetamine through her overweighted system.

“Ouch,” yelped Phyliss from the prick of the needle.

“See you next week, Miss Dodge. And we expect big weight reductions. Lots of lost weight …”

“Sexual fulfillment, you say?” asked Phyliss, remembering Kip’s kiss at the door.

“That’s the ticket,” said Dr. Crownsky with a reassuring wink.

“’Mornin’, Sandy,” Phyliss greeted her secretary as she hurried into her office. “Who called?”

“Who didn’t?”

“Get me the A list first, you call back the B list, find out what they want, and send the C list to Irving Lazar.”

“Tony Perkins returned your call,” said Sandy.

“Great!” Phyliss plopped into the padded chair behind her desk. “Where is he?”

“New York.”

“Get him!”

“Right!”

“Wait!” cried Phyllis. “Get me a gallon of coffee first.”

Sandy quick-stepped into Phyliss’ office, carrying a large filled-to-the-rim coffee mug. “Calm down, Phyliss,” he suggested. “It’s not even ten o’clock, and already you’re wound up and ticking like Big Ben.”

“Honey, if you can’t stand the heat, stay out of the office, know what I mean?”

Sandy placed the coffee mug on Phyliss’ desk.

Phyliss grabbed the mug and gulped down a big sip. “God, that’s awful!” she proclaimed. “Thanks, hon. Now, even before Perkins, get me Jennifer Shale. I need to know what’s going on around town.”

Sandy buzzed the intercom and Phyliss picked up her phone.
“Wha’?”
she hollered.

“Jennifer Shale on one,” Sandy said calmly.

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Phyliss clicked into line one. “Jennifer,
darling!”

“Phyliss!”

“Jenn, puss, I need some deep dirt on how to get a young actor friend of mine some work. Some auditions, at least. What’re you working on?”

“Town’s kind of quiet right now,” said the casting director. “No one’s shooting in New York these days. Worse than that, no one’s
casting
in New York. Who you got in mind?”

“Oh, some young and hunky piece of nouveau excitement, is all,” said Phyliss.

“Male or female?”

“All male, a Kip Bramer.”

“Character or lead?”

“Lead, of course. You know I only handle names above the title.”

“You balling with the guy?”

“Not yet, Jenn. But I’m sure hoping.”

“Talented?” asked the casting director.

“How should I know? I’m just his agent! See him, would you? Let me know what you think?”

“Sure,” said Jennifer.

“Let him read for you. I’m curious to know if he’s as good as he looks.”

“I’ll let you know,” said Jennifer. “Have him come see me tomorrow at eleven. Now you’ve got
my
curiosity going too. I’ll get back to you on this.”

“Thanks, hon …”

Two days later, at ten-thirty in the morning, Jennifer called Phyliss to tell her about her meeting with Kip. “I saw your boyfriend yesterday, Phyl.”

“And?” Phyliss asked before cupping her hand over the receiver and calling out, “Sandy, bring me another cup of coffee, will ya, hon? I got big news on the line. I need a shot in the bloodstream!”

“Are you there?” asked Jennifer.

“All yours,” said Phyliss, back on the line. “Fire when ready.”

“Well, darling, he sure is something to look at.”

“But can he act?”

“I can’t tell yet,” said Jennifer. “I gave him something to read. He was nervous and shaky. But hell, that means nothing. What he needs is some experience. He’s still raw.”

“In other words, I’m wasting my time!”

“No, no,” Jennifer insisted. “I didn’t say that. He’s got a special quality. There’s something there. I just don’t know if it’s worth your time.”

“So how do we find out?”

“Easy,” said Jennifer. “Get him a few important readings. Call Howard Zaffler. He’s casting some westerns. This kid’d be perfect for them. He’s all-American Zane Grey, anyway.”

“Thanks a mill, Jenn—I gotta go. My lines are buzzing like the stock market just crashed.”

“Sure thing, Phyl. Hey, let me know what happens.”

Phyliss hung up the phone, and Sandy called out, “David Begelman on three!”

“Forget it, Sandy. Right now I’m trying to get laid, not rich. Tell Begelman’s office I’m having a hysterectomy. Get me Howard Zaffler!”

Two minutes later Sandy buzzed Phyliss to say Howard Zaffler, the casting director, was on the line.

“Howard, hon … what have you got for an actor—young, dirty bushy blond. If looks could kill, he’d be the Adolf Eichmann of matinee idols.”

“Can he act?”asked the casting director.

“Can
he act? Can he act?
Is that all anyone wants to know anymore? I thought this was the movie business. Whatever happened to getting by on sheer bed-sheet power?”

“This guy a boyfriend or what?” asked Howard.

“Zaffler, you ole monkey’s uncle, you. You know me too well. This boy is a major c-u-t-i-e. What can you do for him?”

“How ‘bout a western?” asked Howard.

“Perfect,” said Phyliss. “Jennifer Shale met with him yesterday, said he was right out of Zane Grey!”

“This could be right up his alley, then,” said Zaffler.

“Sounds great!” said Phyliss. “When can you see my cowboy?”

“Send him up to me … let’s see …” Howard thumbed through his hour-at-a-glance calendar. “Friday … two o’clock.”

One minute later she was on the line with Kip.

“This could be the break I need,” said Kip when she finished explaining. “How can I ever thank you …?”

Phyliss smiled into the telephone receiver. “Well … you could start at the spot just above my forehead and work your way down to the soles of my feet.”