The Love Machine

by Jacqueline Susann

  “How’s it been going, Dip?”

  The handsome blond man sat on a chair and threw his long legs over the side. “Between you and I, it’s been going lousy until today.”

  “What happened to your Persian Room engagement? I kept watching for the announcement.”

  Dip shrugged. “The act bombed. We kept it on the road for over a year and milked what we could out of it, but I didn’t dare bring it into New York. See, I did some analyzing. Pauli and me—we don’t mesh.”

  “You mean the marriage is over?”

  “Over! It’s never been more solid, pal. It’s just that our personalities don’t go to form a good act. Look, when she does comedy or straight singing on her own, she’s great. And when I do my old song and dance, I’m great. I kill them with my imitations. I swear when I do Godfrey with the uke—buddy boy, you can’t tell the difference. Ted Lewis knows he’s listening to himself when I say, ‘Is everybody happy?’ But the thing is, I’m one style and she’s another. But listen, buddy boy, my agent told me Ike Ryan is looking for a leading man to play opposite Diana Williams—and the Big Dipper is a natural for the job. You once said you owed me something. Well, how about booking Pauli and me on The Christie Lane Show? It would serve as an audition for me for Ike Ryan, and also we could use the scratch. I hear they pay five G’s for guests. And it will give Pauli some coverage too. She’s gonna be mad enough if I get the lead opposite Diana Williams and split the act—but if it comes from the Chris Lane show, it won’t look as if I went after it.”

  “I’ll take care of it. How soon do you want to go on?”

  “Like yesterday!”

  Robin picked up the phone and called Jerry Moss. “Jerry, who is the guest star on the next week’s Chris Lane show? Lon Rogers? Well, cancel him out. I don’t give a damn if Artie Rylander picked him—IBC will pay him off. I want Pauli and Dip Nelson booked in his place. And if there are any repercussions just say the word came from me… . Sure, say I hate Lon Rogers, that I want him canceled… . Hell no, I think Lon is as good as any baritone around—but I want Dip and Pauli in that spot. Fine.”

  He hung up and smiled at Dip. “It’s done.”

  Dip shook his head in awe. “Buddy boy, you’ve sure come a long way while we’ve been out on the road.”

  The following morning Robin’s secretary announced that Danton Miller was waiting in the outside office. Robin was on the telephone talking to Gregory in Palm Beach. “Have him wait,” Robin answered.

  Dan’s anger blistered as he sat in the outer office. When he was finally admitted, he spat the words out before he was in the door. “Not only do you butt into my shows, but you play it cute, and make me wait.”

  “What’s so important to bring you here in person?” Robin asked with a cordial smile.

  Dan stood in front of him, his fists clenched. “Now you’re in the booking business. How dare you go over Artie Rylander’s head and put a crummy team on my top show.”

  “IBC’s top show,” Robin answered.

  “What’s your excuse?” Dan demanded.

  Robin’s stare was cold. “I stopped making excuses when I was five years old.”

  “Why are they on the show?” Dan demanded, in tight-lipped fury.

  “Because I happen to like them. They’re a new team. They haven’t been on television. That in itself is refreshing. I’m tired of seeing the same old Hollywood names, the ones we pay five thousand—and then see them with Johnny Carson, Merv Griffin or Mike Douglas a few days later for scale. From here on in, no plugs for pictures are allowed on any of our shows.”

  “Listen, you son of a bitch—”

  The secretary buzzed. Robin snapped the box on. Her voice came through.

  “Your reservation to Rome is confirmed, Mr. Stone.”

  “Rome!” Dan looked like he was going to have a stroke. “Why in hell are you going to Rome?”

  Robin stood up. “Because my mother is dying.” He walked past Dan, then he stopped at the door. “And I have Gregory’s permission to stay as long as I’m needed. I hope you can manage to get along without me for a few days.” When he left the office Dan was still standing in the center of the room staring after him.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  SERGIO WAS WAITING at the airport when Robin arrived. “I did not cable you sooner,” the boy explained. “We thought it was just another seizure. But yesterday the doctor said I should notify her family. Did I do right?”

  “You did just fine, Sergio,” Robin said. He was aware that the boy’s eyes were shining with tears. He waited until they were in the car, then he asked, “How does she seem?”

  Through the corner of his eye he saw the tears spill down Sergio’s face. “She is in a coma,” he said.

  “Did you notify my sister?” Robin asked.

  “Lisa and Richard are on their way. Their names were in Kitty’s address book. I sent them the same cable I sent you.”

  It was ten in the morning when they reached the clinic. Robin was only allowed a brief glance at the waxen face under the oxygen tent. She died at eleven thirty that night without regaining consciousness. Lisa and Richard arrived an hour later. Lisa went into immediate hysterics and had to be given sedation. Richard stood by, stoic and helpless.

  The following morning, Robin, Sergio and Richard met with Kitty’s lawyer and discussed the funeral arrangements. Kitty’s will would be probated in the States. The trust was to be divided evenly between Robin and Lisa, but Kitty had left the villa, the car and all of her jewelry to Sergio. Lisa stayed in bed all day. The following morning she appeared at breakfast, pale and silent, as Sergio and Robin were having their second cup of coffee.

  “Kitty wanted to be cremated,” Robin said. “We made all the arrangements yesterday. Richard sat in for you.”

  Lisa said nothing. Suddenly she turned to Sergio. “Do you mind having your coffee in the other room? I want to talk to my brother.”

  Robin’s eyes narrowed. “This is his house,” he said. But Sergio had already taken his coffee into the living room. “That was goddamned rude,” Robin said tonelessly.

  Lisa ignored him and turned to her husband. “Well, are you going to tell him?”

  For a moment Richard looked embarrassed. Then he stiffened with an attempt at righteous courage. “We’re contesting the will.”

  “Just what are you contesting?” Robin asked cautiously.

  “Sergio getting the villa and the jewelry. We can’t lose.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  Richard smiled. “Once we start legal action, the estate will be held up. Sergio will need money to live on. It’s obvious he has none. After a few months he’ll be delighted to settle for a few thousand dollars. Of course, we will also claim that Kitty was not sound of mind when she made the will—that the boy used pressure to make her draw it up.”

  “I’ll fight you on it,” Robin said evenly.

  “You’d stick up for that little faggot?” Richard asked.

  “I’ll stick up for anyone who was good to Kitty.”

  “I’ll have him investigated,” Richard said. “I’ll prove he played on the emotions of a sick old woman.”

  “Who the hell are you to prove anything? Were you ever here? Did you ever see them together? I did. And for that reason my word will carry more weight than yours.”

  “Oh no, it won’t,” Lisa said in an odd voice. “I happen to hold some trump cards that might lessen the power of your word. And the attending publicity might embarrass you at your network. To say nothing of your personal life.”

  Richard shot her a warning look. “Lisa, we can win legally. Let’s not get personalities involved.”

  “I might have expected this from you,” Lisa snapped at Robin. “After all, what are you really? Just a lucky bastard—”

  “Lisa!” Richard’s voice held a warning.

  “No, why shouldn’t I shock him? I’d like to see big brother lose his cool just once in his life! It only proves that in the end class will tell. H
e’s about as much my real brother as that fairy in the other room.” She turned to Robin. “You were adopted when you were five!”

  She paused, waiting for Robin’s reaction. Richard seemed to be the only one affected. He looked out toward the patio to hide his embarrassment and displeasure.

  Robin’s gaze was level. “Lisa, at this moment, nothing gives me greater satisfaction than the realization that we are in no way related.”

  “Your mother was a whore!”

  “Lisa!” This was Richard.

  “Let her go on,” Robin said evenly.

  “Oh, I kept it a secret these past few years. I didn’t know until then. Kitty told me when she was ill. She said if I was ever in trouble to go to you. That you were a strong person. That she really loved you as if you were her own. She adopted you because she had given up on having a child of her own, and she wanted one. Dad had a friend in criminal law and he told him about a case he was handling—about the poor little orphan in a coma in an orphanage hospital in Providence. Mother insisted on adopting him. Your real mother was strangled! You had no father. But Mother, my mother, worshiped you, because two years later the impossible happened—she had me! I can’t stop you from getting your end of the estate—that’s all legal, Dad made that stupid will. But I can sure stop you from letting that fairy wind up with anything!”

  “Try it. I enjoy a good fight.”

  She jumped up and tossed her coffee in his face. “You knew it all along, about being adopted! You cold-blooded bastard—I hate your Then she ran out of the room.

  Richard sat stunned. Robin calmly mopped his face and shirt. “Thank goodness the coffee was lukewarm,” he said with a smile.

  Richard stood up. “I’m sorry, Robin. She doesn’t mean any of it. She’ll get over it.” He started from the room. “Oh, and Robin—don’t worry, I won’t let her contest the will.”

  Robin smiled at him. “Crew Cut, maybe I’ve misjudged you.”

  Kitty’s body was cremated. Lisa silently took possession of the urn and she and Richard took a flight out the following day. Obviously Richard exerted some control, because she made no further mention of fighting Sergio on the will. When they were gone, Robin poured himself a stiff drink. Sergio watched him silently.

  “I want to thank you, Robin. I was sitting in the other room the day your sister reacted so violently. Unfortunately I could not help but overhearing. Is it the truth about you being adopted?”

  Robin nodded. Then he turned with a quick grin and said, “But it’s also true that you are now a man of means.”

  The boy nodded. “She left me much jewelry. Pearls, a twenty-carat emerald-cut diamond. Now I can go to America!”

  Robin whistled through his teeth. “Sergio, you really struck it big.”

  “What I am trying to say is perhaps you want the ring or the necklace to give to a lady you care about?”

  “Nope. You keep it all. You were there when she needed you.”

  Sergio stared at him. “What are you going to do, Robin?”

  “Well, for one thing, I’m going to get pissy-eyed drunk. Tell you what, Sergio, let’s really tie one on, find us some girls—” he stopped. “You really don’t go for women? Not at all?”

  The boy shook his head. “Even with Kitty. I was just her very good friend.”

  “Okay, you be my very good friend tonight. Let’s go and get drunk.”

  “I will go with you, but I will not drink.”

  At two in the morning Robin was singing as they wandered down the cobbled streets. He was dimly aware that Sergio was holding him up. Several times he tripped and would have fallen if it had not been for Sergio. He had never gotten so roaring drunk. The last thing he recalled was falling across the bed before he passed out. He awoke the following morning with the first hangover he had ever known. He was under the covers, disrobed down to his shorts. Sergio came in with a pot of inky-black coffee. Robin took it and eyed him curiously.

  “Sergio, how did I get my clothes off?”

  “I undressed you.”

  “That figures. Did you enjoy yourself?”

  Sergio looked properly insulted. “Robin, the trouble with people is that they think a homosexual will go for just any man. If you were with a girl and she passed out, would you take her just because she was a woman?”

  Robin’s grin was apologetic. “I had it coming. Sorry.” Then, in an attempt to break the somber mood, he grinned and said, “Sergio, I should be insulted. I thought you dug me.”

  For a second there was a glimmer of hope in the dark eyes. Then he caught Robin’s smile. “You joke. But I will always wear this bracelet.” He held out his arm. “I know you like women, but one day I will find a man I care about who also will care for me.”

  Robin sipped the black coffee. It tasted awful but it cleared his head.

  “You hate what I am, don’t you, Robin?”

  “No, Sergio. At least you know what you are, who you are and what you want out of life.”

  “Does it bother you not knowing your real mother?”

  “Yes—it makes me feel in limbo,” Robin said slowly.

  “Then find out who she really was.”

  “You heard what Lisa said. Unfortunately it’s the truth. I have an old newspaper clipping in my wallet to prove it.”

  “Germany is not far away.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “You know the name of your mother, the city she came from. She might have relatives, friends—you could learn about her.”

  “Forget it.”

  “You mean you would take the word of Lisa and a newspaper clipping? I am what she calls a fairy. It is true. But I am also a person. Perhaps your mother was a good person. Find out what she was like.”

  “Hell, I don’t speak German. I’ve never been to Hamburg.”

  “I speak German and I’ve been to Hamburg, I know it well.”

  Robin smiled. “Sergio, you are a man of many talents.”

  “We could be in Germany in a few hours. I would go with you.”

  Robin threw back the covers and leaped out of bed. “Know something, Sergio? I’ve never been to Germany and I’d like to have a look at it. Especially Hamburg. I dropped some bombs over it once, but I only saw it from the air. Also I’m very partial to German girls. You make the plane reservations. We may not find out anything about my mother, but it’s a cinch we’ll find something!”

  They checked into the Four Seasons hotel. The suite was Old World in its charm and furnishings. Oriental-type rugs, thick comforters on the bed. Sergio went right to the phone and began to call all the Boesches listed in the directory. Robin ordered a bottle of vodka and sat at the window, sipping his drink and watching the darkness fall on the city. People were waiting for buses. Mothers were dragging children down the street as the stores began to close. The Alster River looked serene and dark. So this was the enemy he had bombed. The city the British had bombed. It looked like any city in America. He half listened to Sergio’s faultless German as he made call after call. On the eighth call, Sergio called to him excitedly. He was writing a number, an address.

  “We have luck,” he said as he hung up. “These Boesches said they are distant cousins of a Herta. We can see them tomorrow.”

  “Keep trying,” Robin said. “There might be more than one Herta.”

  At the end of an hour they had located five Herta Boesches who had gone to America. One was still living in Milwaukee—that ruled her out. The others had not been heard from.

  Sergio looked crestfallen. “I have not been a success and it seemed like such a good plan. I am most sorry, Robin.”

  “Sorry! Are you going just to sit there and cry in your beer? At least show me Hamburg. Is there any night life in this town?”

  Sergio laughed aloud. “Robin—no town in the world has the kind of night life Hamburg has.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding! Better than Paris?”

  “Paris! They are prudes. Their clubs are for tourists. Come, I will show
you night life. But we will take no more than one hundred dollars with us, and get it changed into small bills at the desk. Where I am going to take you, it is most easy to be robbed.”

  They took a cab and Sergio directed the driver to a given point then they got out and walked. “This is the St. Pauli district,” Sergio explained.

  They walked down the brightly lit street. “This is the Reeperbahn.” It was more brightly lighted than Broadway. A skyscraper stood next to a bar called Wimpy’s. Across the street was a bowling alley. But what struck Robin most was the people. Masses of people, all walking in a leisurely way. It reminded him of a shopping crowd on Fifth Avenue before Christmas, without the frantic pace. These people were strolling aimlessly. Robin and Sergio walked on silently passing a conglomeration of stores-auction houses, furniture shops—the entire street was a maze of neon lights. Men with goods, hawking like American auctioneers and everywhere the smell of sausage. On impulse Robin stopped at a stand. “Two Weisswurst, please.”

  Sergio stared at it. “What is it, Robin? It looks like a white hot dog.”

  Robin bit into it and speared the hot sauerkraut. “Weisswurst. I haven’t had it since—” He stopped, suddenly speechless. “I just saw her, Sergio! I saw a crummy little round table and a beautiful lady with black hair place a dish of this before a little boy. It was hot and good.” Robin pushed the plate away. “This is junk compared to the way she made it.”

  They left the stand and walked in silence. “I saw her face,” Robin kept muttering. “I’m beginning to see everything. She was beautiful—dark with flashing black eyes, like a gypsy.”

  “I am glad,” Sergio said.

  “She was still a whore. But at least I remember now. God, she was beautiful. Let’s celebrate, Sergio. We’re not going to spend the whole night walking down a German midway, are we? This may be your idea of night life, but it isn’t mine.”

  Sergio took his arm and led him across the street. They turned right and walked a block. “Ah, this is it,” Sergio said, “the Silber-sackstrasse.”