The Lonely Lady

by Harold Robbins

  He shivered for a moment more, then it was over. He lay very still, his chest heaving against me. Then abruptly he began to cry. Hard, racking sobs.

  I held his head to my breasts and stroked his hair. “It’s all right,” I said. “It’s all right.”

  He raised his head to look at me. His eyes were wet with tears. “You don’t understand,” he said. “Damn them!”

  I waited for him to go on.

  “They finally got what they wanted,” he said. “They wanted me in the family business, and like it or not I’m in it.”

  “Don’t talk about it,” I said. “It will be all right.”

  “No. The club was supposed to be mine. They loaned me the money for it. But now they don’t want the money back. We’re all partners. After all, aren’t we family?” he asked bitterly.

  “Is that why they were at the club tonight?”

  He nodded. “I would have been better off if it had bombed. At least that way they would have forgotten the whole thing. It would have been just another of Vincenzo’s crazy ideas.”

  “I didn’t know they were like that. From everything I’ve heard, Italian families always kept their word to each other. No matter what happened.”

  “Except when it comes to money and power. Cosa nostra is just a word for the newspapers. My father got rid of his brother in order to become the head of the family, and when he’s gone my brothers will kill each other to take his place.”

  I was silent for a moment. “What happens now?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “I run it just the same as before. Only now we cut the profit four ways.”

  “What happens to the money they loaned you? The two million dollars. Do you have to pay it back?”

  “Of course not. It’s the family business now. The business will pay it back out of their share.”

  “Then you’re ahead,” I said, looking at him. “My father was a banker and I remember he once told me that any loan you did not have to repay personally was a clear profit. You just made yourself a half million dollars clear.”

  Finally he began to smile. “You’re a strange girl,” he said. He swung his legs off the bed. “Care for a drink?”

  “No, but if you have another stick I’d like it.”

  He came back into the bedroom with a cigarette box full. I lit one and leaned back on the pillows inhaling gently. This time it worked. I began to feel very mellow.

  He was standing at the side of the bed looking down at me. I passed him the joint. He took a few tokes and then I reached up for him.

  “Come here,” I said. “You owe me one.”

  He came down into my arms and this time we made love. The next day I moved everything except my typewriter and papers into his apartment. I didn’t give up the apartment, because I always wanted a place to go to where I could work.

  Chapter 22

  By the time I went back down to the disco it was jammed. There was just about enough room on the floor to move up and down in time with the beat. The rest of the room was filled with people huddled around tiny tables without an inch of space between them.

  Dino came over to me, a wide grin on his round face. “The new boy’s good,” he said. “He keeps them movin’.”

  I looked across the dark room to where the D.J. was working at two turntables which were raised on a platform slightly above the floor. He was a tall slim black boy, dressed in an outlandish costume—safari wide-brimmed hat, hand-made chamois shirt and wide bell-bottomed chinos. He held an earphone to his ear while he laced a new record on the second turntable and marked the disk. When he finished he put the headset down, looked at me and smiled.

  There was something vaguely familiar about his smile. I nodded and made my way through the crush of people to the turntable. When I stopped in front of the stand, he smiled again. “Hello, JeriLee,” he said shyly.

  I couldn’t keep the surprise from my voice. “Fred! Fred Lafayette!”

  He grinned. “You remembered.”

  I held out my hand. “I can’t believe it,” I said.

  “Yep. Here we are. Right back where we started. Me up on the stand, you down there on the floor, workin’.”

  “But your singing,” I said. “What happened?”

  “You know, girl. Mellow singers like Nat King Cole just ain’t cuttin’ it today. The world is rock happy.” He let go of my hand. “How long has it been? Ten years?”

  “Just about.”

  “I used to read about you in the papers,” he said. “Then I sort of lost touch. You divorced that man, didn’t you?”

  I nodded.

  “You look real good,” he said. “You grew up pretty.”

  “I feel old.”

  “That’s no way to talk. You’re still a kid.”

  “I wish it were true,” I said. “My father died.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. He was a nice man.”

  “Yes.”

  “I saw you when I came into work an’ thought I recognized you.”

  “Why didn’t you talk to me?” I asked.

  “When I checked to see if I was right I was told to keep off. That you were the boss’s lady.” His eyes searched mine.

  “That’s true. But you should have said something anyway. After all, we’re old friends.”

  Before he could answer, Dino was at my side. “Vincenzo just came in. He wants to see you right away.”

  “Okay,” I said. I looked up at Fred. “I hope you like it here. Maybe we could get together for a cup of coffee sometime.”

  “Sure,” he said. He picked up the earphone and began placing another disk. “You let me know when.”

  I pushed my way back to the door and went up to the office. Vincent was on something. The expression in his eyes was too bright. His voice was angry. “What the hell were you doing holding hands with that nigger?”

  “We were shaking, not holding hands,” I said. “He’s an old friend. He saved my life once.”

  “I don’t give a shit what he did. I’m going to fire the cocksucker!”

  “You do,” I said, “and you fire me too.” Fred had been more right than he knew when he said we were back where we started. It looked as if I were going to cost him another job.

  Vincent suddenly calmed down. “He really saved your life?”

  “Yes,” I said. “A couple of kids were beating me and trying to rape me. He got me away from them just in time.”

  Vincent was silent for a moment. “How old were you?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “I guess it’s all right then,” he said. “You really are old friends.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Change your clothes,” he said. “We’re gettin’ out of here.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Over to El Mo. I’m on to something. We’re goin’ to meet some people there.”

  “About what?”

  “About a movie,” he snapped. “How long do you think I can stand a stinking joint like this before going crazy?”

  “Does your family know about it?”

  “No. And I don’t give a damn! Now change your goddamn dress and stop asking so many damn questions.”

  ***

  We walked into El Morocco and it was like a rerun of the first time we had met. The Paoluzzis were at the best table. Only one thing was different. Instead of the Italian lawyer there was a hard compact medium-sized man in a dark suit who was introduced only as Frank.

  Paoluzzi kissed my hand in that strange way he had and Carla Maria pressed her cheek to mine.

  “Everything settled?” Vincent asked as we sat down.

  Frank nodded. “You’ll have my check for a million dollars in the morning.”

  Vincent suddenly smiled. “This calls for a drink. Another bottle of champagne,” he said to the headwaiter.

  Frank got to his feet. “It’s already past my bedtime. I’d better get going.” He shook hands formally with the producer and Carla Maria, then said something in Italian to which t
hey responded with smiles and nods. “Good night, young lady,” he said to me. “Nice meeting you.”

  “Nice meeting you,” I replied.

  “Good night, Vincent. Don’t forget to give my regards to your father.”

  Vincent got to his feet. “I won’t, Uncle Frank. Good night.”

  I watched him walk toward the door. There was something about the man that radiated power. Even the headwaiters seemed to bow more deferentially than usual. He went up the few steps to the entrance to the street and I saw two men come from the little bar and join him. They walked out together.

  “To the film,” Vincent said, raising his glass of champagne.

  “And you’re going to be in it,” Vincent said to me. “The second lead next to Carla Maria.”

  “You’ve got to be joking.”

  “I’m not. It’s part of the deal.”

  “How did you manage to do it?”

  He laughed. “Simple. I couldn’t get the money anywhere else so I put it up myself.”

  “Where did you get it?” Then it dawned on me. “Is that the money your Uncle Frank was talking about?”

  “I put up my share of the club as security.”

  “Does your father know?”

  “What difference does it make? I have the right to do what I like with my share.”

  I was silent.

  He refilled my glass. “Stop thinking about it and drink up. You’re going to be a star, baby.”

  It was a little after three o’clock when we came out of El Morocco. Vincent pushed me toward the limousine. “You go to the hotel with them,” he said. “I’ll run over to the club, make sure that everything is okay and then join you.”

  “I’m tired,” I said. “I’d just as soon go home to sleep if it’s all right with you.”

  He was smiling but I could tell from his eyes that he was angry. “It’s not all right with me. You go with them. I have some things to settle with Dino and they have to be settled tonight.”

  I knew better than to argue with him when he was in that mood. I got into the car. He waved his hand and started walking up the street as the limo moved down to First Avenue.

  Carla Maria smiled at me. “It’s like a dream come true. Making a picture with the two of you.”

  She reached across her husband and patted my hand. “You Americans are so funny.” She laughed. “I mean tonight.” She read the expression on my face. “Didn’t Vincent tell you that we were going to spend the night together?”

  I shook my head. “He said that he would meet us later.”

  She said something to her husband in Italian, then spoke to me. “We will call Vincent from the hotel and straighten this out.”

  “No.” I reached across to the front seat and tapped the driver on the shoulder. “Could you stop the car here, please?”

  The car pulled to the curb. Neither of them said a word as I got out. I flagged a cab and went to the apartment.

  I had just finished undressing when Vincent came storming in. He stood in the bedroom doorway shouting at me. “You goddamn stupid cunt! After all I went through just to get them to agree to let you have the part.”

  “You should have told me what you had in mind,” I said.

  “Well now you know, so get yourself dressed and haul your ass over there!”

  “No. I told you once before it wasn’t my game.”

  “You like going around town begging for jobs and starving better?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Remember what it was like the day you came into the club? You were on your ass when I took you off the streets. Now you think you can shit on me!”

  “I’m not dumping on you.”

  “Yes you are!” he yelled. “We can blow the whole deal just because you won’t go along with it.”

  “No you won’t,” I said. “The million dollars you’re getting from him is the important thing. Not me.”

  “You’re part of the deal too!” he shouted.

  “You had no right to do that without asking me.”

  “I had no right to commit the money either,” he yelled. “But I did it. Now don’t you fuck it up or I’ll wind up in a sewer someplace.”

  I stared at him.

  He suddenly slumped into a chair and covered his face with his hands. After a moment he looked up at me. There were tears in his eyes. “The only thing my family respects is success. If the picture goes over, everything will be all right.”

  I didn’t speak.

  “Please,” he begged. “Just this once. Afterward you can do anything you want. It’s the only chance I have to get out from under them.”

  I didn’t move.

  “They’ll bury me if this deal doesn’t go through. My father and Uncle Frank haven’t spoke in years. I don’t dare give him a chance to get that share of the club.”

  “You already have,” I pointed out.

  “Not if the picture is made. Uncle Frank promised to keep it quiet if he gets paid back.” He put his hands over his face again and began to cry.

  I stood looking at him for a long minute, then I slowly began to get dressed. As I walked past him to the door he stopped me.

  He went to the night table, took out a few joints, the vial of coke and a box of poppers. He put them all in my handbag. “This might help,” he said.

  I didn’t speak.

  He bent and kissed my cold lips. “Thanks. I love you,” he said.

  I turned and went out the door. Even then I knew I would never come back.

  Ten minutes later I was at their hotel suite. Carla Maria opened the door with a smile. “I am so glad you have coming,” she said.

  I laughed suddenly. It wasn’t only her English. The whole thing just was beginning to feel ridiculous. I immediately lit a stick, then I took a double hit of coke and chased it down with two glasses of champagne.

  By the time we made it to the bedroom I was as high as a kite and nothing seemed to matter. Much to my surprise I even began to enjoy it. I never dreamed that a woman’s touch could be so delicate and so exciting. And the tricks Carla Maria could do with her tongue made the Green Hornet seem like a child’s toy. It was as if a whole new world were opening up for me.

  And when I woke up in the morning beside her and saw how beautiful she really was, I knew I had loved every moment of it.

  Chapter 23

  I waited until afternoon, when I thought he would be at the club for the morning accounting, before going back to the apartment for my clothes. I let myself in and went through to the bedroom. I had guessed wrong. He was in bed, still asleep.

  I started to back out of the room quietly but he awakened and sat up in bed rubbing his eyes. “Good morning,” he said, smiling.

  I didn’t answer.

  “Come on now,” he said. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “No.”

  He was wide awake now. “Did she eat your pussy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you eat hers?”

  “Yes.”

  I could sense he was getting excited. “What did Gino do all the time you were together?”

  “Once he came in the room and watched us.”

  “Did he fuck her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did he fuck you?”

  “I don’t know,” I repeated. “I remember he fucked one of us but I don’t remember which one.”

  “What did he do afterward?”

  “He went back to his own room to sleep.”

  “And what did you do?”

  “We snorted the rest of the coke, popped a few more ammies and kept on balling.”

  “Jesus!” he exclaimed. He got out of bed. I was right. He was excited. “I wish I had been there. It must have been something to watch.”

  I didn’t speak.

  “Let’s ball.”

  “No.” I let a moment pass. “I’m all fucked out.”

  “There’s always room for one more.”

  “No.” I went to the close
t and took down my suitcases.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Packing.”

  “What for?” He seemed genuinely puzzled.

  “Because I’m moving out. Why the hell do you think I would be packing?”

  “For Christ’s sake, you don’t have to be so pissed off about it. You said you had a good time, didn’t you?”

  “That has nothing to do with it,” I said. “I don’t like lies, and you lied to me.”

  “Shit, baby,” he said. “That was an important deal. You might have blown it for us.”

  “You mean I might have blown it for you. There never was anything in it for me.”

  He stared at me without speaking.

  “All that crap you gave me about being in the picture was just that. Crap. Carla Maria told me this morning that she didn’t know what you were talking about last night. There isn’t any part in the picture for me. Why couldn’t you have told me the truth?”

  “I wasn’t lying about my family. My father would—” He stopped when he saw the expression on my face.

  “You were lying about that too,” I said. “Carla Maria told me that Frank and your father are partners in the deal, that each is putting up half the money.”

  “Aw Christ, honey,” he said, coming toward me. “It’s over. Everything worked out. You know I love you.”

  “You’re right. It is over. You can stop lying now.” I began to take my clothes out of the closet and put them in the suitcases. “Just let me pack.”

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “To my apartment.”

  “Jesus, you’re not going back to that dump?”

  “Would it make more sense if I told you that I was going to Italy with Carla Maria?”

  “I wouldn’t believe you,” he said.

  I opened my bag and handed him the airline ticket. “Would that convince you?”

  “Well I’ll be a son of a bitch.”

  “You’re beginning to tell the truth,” I said, taking back the ticket.

  He shook his head. “To think you turned out to be a goddamn dyke.”

  I laughed. “Little boys shouldn’t play with fire. They might burn their fingers. But don’t worry about it. I already told her I wasn’t going. I don’t intend to be a whore for either one of you.”

  Relief crossed his face. “You’ve had a rough time,” he said. “Why don’t you just hop into bed and get some rest. You can even have the night off.”