“Yes,” he replied briefly, his countenance impassive.
“Excuse me,” a man in a gray pinstriped suit interjected. He extended a business card to her that read:
EDWARDS PHELPS
TALENT SCOUT PINNACLE PICTURES
NEW YORK, NEW YORK
“Um, hello,” Moxie said, unable to contain her surprise. She handed it to Cotton, whose eyebrows arched.
“I’d like to talk to you, young lady,” Phelps said. “I think Pinnacle might be able to make you a very attractive deal.”
“Then you’ll want to talk to me,” Cotton said quickly. “I’m her agent.”
Theodore cleared his throat in a very affected way, no doubt to remind everyone that he was still standing there. Cotton seemed to regard him in a slightly different way now and patted his back dismissively. “Yes, it was good to see you, Theodore. We’ll catch up later.” When Theodore did not immediately leave, Cotton extended their contact further by actually shoving him away.
Phelps looked amused. “Why don’t you both step over to my table so we can talk?”
*
The next day, Moxie was still elated. As she folded her clothes, she hummed a cheery tune.
“Hey, Moxie,” someone called from outside her door.
She poked her head out to look into the hallway and saw a resident from a second-floor apartment. “Hi.”
“Telephone’s for you.”
Like most apartment buildings, Moxie’s had a single telephone that everyone shared. Theirs was in the parlor downstairs, and she energetically headed down the four flights of stairs.
She picked up the candlestick base and held the receiver to her ear. “Hello?”
“Hey, tomato. I hear you knocked them on their asses last night.”
The familiar voice made Moxie’s stomach lurch, and she instantly sat in the armchair behind her. “Vi?”
“Yes, it’s nice to hear your voice again.”
Moxie was ill equipped to handle Violet’s provocative tone, and she closed her eyes for a moment to help her focus. “Yours too. Last night went really well. It seems I’m forever owing you for something or other.”
“You don’t owe me a thing, toots. All I did was make sure your talents were suitably showcased.”
“Oh, they were showcased, all right,” Moxie replied with a sultry chuckle. “You definitely would have approved of my dress.”
“Hmm…I wasn’t talking about those talents, but while we’re on that subject, what did your dress look like?”
“Ice blue, beaded, low-cut, thigh-high slit up the side.”
Violet gasped at her stark description, which pleased Moxie. She was brazenly flirting with Violet, but it made her feel so damn sexy, she just couldn’t resist. After all, she and this woman had already made love, she kept telling herself. Her aptitude for affecting Violet both empowered and excited her.
“Shall I assume that you approve?” she asked seductively.
“So very, very much,” Violet answered hoarsely. “My spies tell me you got an offer from Pinnacle.”
“Yeah, about that. It’s a remarkable coincidence that the night I planned to be all dolled up and singing my heart out, a scout from your studio just happened to be in the audience.”
“I had less to do with that than you might think. I heard one of the joes on the set talking about casting a singer for a small role in a new picture. They wanted someone with a fresh face and gams from here to there and back again, and I immediately thought of you.”
“And did he pick Saturday night on purpose? Or was that just chance?”
Violet’s voice took on a sheepish quality. “Well, it seemed like a good time for them to stop by, and I figured if he didn’t think you were right for the part, he could just quietly leave and you’d never know the difference. You’d have someone else in the audience who might make you an offer. But clearly that wasn’t the case. You obviously bowled him over as much as I expected you to.”
“I guess so,” she said, unable to hide her glee. “They want me to travel to Hollywood for a screen test. I leave in a week.”
“Congratulations. I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more.”
“Thanks, I’m a little nervous,” she whispered. “Traveling all the way to California and then performing for studio executives.”
“You’ll be great.”
“When are you coming back to New York, anyway? You won’t be arriving just as I’ll be leaving, will you?”
“I’ll wait for you,” Violet said softly, and the words gave Moxie a sudden chill.
“Really?”
“I wouldn’t want you to be out here all alone. You can stay here at the Garden of Allah…with me.” Moxie suddenly couldn’t swallow. “Provided that’s what you want,” Violet added.
Moxie recognized the familiar anxiety fluttering through her gut that she had been dealing with on and off for the last month. “Well, it would be nice to spend some time with you.”
“ Manhattan Rhapsody should be done filming in a few days, so I can show you around town.”
“We can see the sights?”
“Absolutely.”
“Like what?”
“I’m sure there are some things. I’ve spent most of my time either at the studio or at the Garden.”
Moxie laughed. “And the city hasn’t asked you to do any tourism radio spots yet?”
“Hmm, it is odd that I haven’t heard back from them, now that you mention it. And the Temperance Union isn’t returning my calls either.”
“Perhaps for the same reason. That would be like making you the national spokeswoman for penises.” A woman who lived on the fifth floor, sitting within earshot, suddenly looked at Moxie in horror. “What?” she asked her confrontationally. The woman turned away, but still looked disturbed.
“Speaking of penises,” Violet was saying.
“What an unexpected way for you to start a sentence.”
“I don’t like it any better than you do, but your last letter said your roommate was trying to set you up with a fella.”
Moxie winced. “Ah, yeah.”
“I couldn’t help but wonder if she convinced you.”
“She did. It didn’t go well.”
“Oh? Care to share the details?” Violet sounded interested, but Moxie couldn’t read anything else into her question.
“He was a sap through and through, and I couldn’t stand his company one more minute, so I actually left the three of them at the restaurant and came home.”
“That is particularly bad if you didn’t even make it through the meal. I suppose next time you could always try Wil’s method and feign death.”
“I’d prefer there not be a next time.”
“If you want to get technical, so do I.”
Moxie grinned. “Is that so?”
“I’d be lying if I told you it didn’t bother me.”
“I suppose you’re leading a monastic existence out there amidst all the movie stars and beautiful dames?”
“Actually, I am.”
“No young ingénues to educate?” Moxie asked playfully. “No sun-kissed breasts to fondle?”
The woman from the fifth floor was staring again. “What?” she barked.
“Not a one.”
“I’m shocked.”
“I know, I know. But see, I’ve met this incredible woman back in New York who has me completely dizzy. I can’t concentrate on anything but her.”
Moxie’s pulse started to race, but she couldn’t resist seeing where this conversation would go. “Do tell.”
“She’s gorgeous, with a voice so sultry that when she speaks, I melt like butter. She’s all I think about.”
“And what kind of thoughts are you having?”
“About how her dark eyes sparkle when she finds something funny, and the sexy way her lips move when she sings.”
“Vi—”
“Her wonderful sense of humor, her silky blond hair, and how her perfume sme
lls like bergamot. How her mouth tastes sweet, like cherry brandy. And God, the way she kisses. She’s an exceptional ki—”
“My, but you have been deep in thought, haven’t you?”
“More than you know.” Violet’s voice had become so deep and tinged with arousal that it threatened to seep through the phone and be Moxie’s undoing.
“No wonder you can’t concentrate.” Her voice cracked. “You must be taking thirty cold showers a day.”
“It is somewhat debilitating. So you have no such distractions? You don’t think of me at all?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“So what would you say, Moxie? Do you ever imagine me touching you?”
Her mouth was suddenly parched and somewhat numb. “Yes.”
“And do you sometimes think about touching me?”
“Yes.” Moxie’s answer was barely a whisper.
“What about me tasting you?”
“Oh, God, yes.” The bitch from the fifth floor glared at her again. “Do you mind?” she implored in irritation as she put the phone to her chest to muffle her voice.
“That’s nice to hear,” Violet said softly. “I’m relieved I’m not the only one who’s sexually frustrated.”
“Well, I was just fine before you called. So it’s clearly all your doing.”
Violet laughed. “And I was fine before I met you, so I have to disagree. But I challenge you to try and prove your case.”
“I’m sure you’d like that.”
“That I can’t deny. But as much as I’d love to sit here and continue to listen to your voice become more and more seductive, I have to meet a couple of friends for a round of golf.”
“You play golf?”
“Not well, but I’ve tried a time or two, yes. I find it’s even better when I take my hip flask.”
“You might say that about just about anything.”
“Very true.”
“I’m glad you called,” Moxie said sincerely. “I’ve missed talking to you.”
“That’s very mutual. When I see you, I owe you a bottle of champagne to celebrate your success.”
“Hmm, it seems to me that’s how all this got started.”
“We can celebrate that too.”
Moxie cleared her throat. “I’m planning on staying sober, just so you know.”
“That’s admirable,” Violet said, her amusement audible. “It’s important to have goals.”
“Have a good golf game.”
“And you have a nice trip out West.”
“I’ll write when I have my itinerary, but Cotton says I’ll probably leave next weekend sometime. Will you meet me at the station?”
“I’d meet you anywhere, doll.”
Moxie felt jittery again. “Thanks.”
“And feel free to wear that dress from last night the day you arrive.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“So will I, sugar. That’s part of the problem.”
“I’ll see you soon. And thanks again.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Bye, Vi.”
“Bye.”
Moxie hung the receiver up and sighed deeply. The whore from the fifth floor was finally gone. Pity she hadn’t left before all the steamy talk.
She fanned herself for a moment with her hand. The effect Violet had on her was inexplicable. And while she was impatiently looking forward to seeing her again, the notion of being alone with her in a bungalow with a bottle of champagne absolutely petrified her.
Chapter Eight
“And that’s when I told him to pipe down and kiss my ass,” Irene said, a trace of the bitterness still in her voice.
Moxie whistled a descending tone in surprise as she wrestled with her false eyelashes in the mirror. “Jumping cats, sister. How long did he suspend you for?”
“A week. I guess I’ll be living on rainwater and dust until then.”
“Next time, try to think of that before you crack wise to the boss.”
Irene looked disgusted. “It would be a hell of a lot easier if he wasn’t such a—”
“Douchebag?” Moxie suggested helpfully, watching Irene in the reflection.
“Exactly! Cold, unpleasant, and intrusive—that’s him to a T.”
“I’ll make sure I pass along to Vi and Wil that you heartily approve of their term. Though I’m proud to say that I met the original douchebag. The others are just pale imitations.”
Irene’s expression changed slightly. “What’s your plan when you get to Hollywood? Are you going to…look…her… up ?” The intent of her inflection was obvious.
“She’s picking me up at the station.”
“Wow, you didn’t waste any time, did you? So are you two…?”
Moxie sighed and faced her. “I’ve asked myself that question about six thousand times, and the best that I can tell is, I don’t know the answer.”
“Well, what do you want? You must know that.”
Moxie paused to consider Irene’s question. “I want things not to be so complicated. I want to be able to meet someone and then actually spend time together to determine if they’re the one for me or not. I want to not question my sanity when I feel a spark of attraction for someone.” She paused again before she continued with more conviction. “I want to remember any sexual encounters I have—fondly, I might add. To not spend my time trying to imagine what naughty thing got done and to whom. To make up my mind between either trying to control my body and its reactions or just giving in and letting whatever this is overtake me. Mostly, I want to keep feeling the way she makes me feel.”
Irene scowled. “Why, when you speak from the heart, is it some poetic monologue, and when I do it, I get suspended from work for a week?”
“What am I ready for? Perhaps that’s the more important question I need to answer.”
“Ooh, good one. So?” Irene got comfortable on the sofa as though preparing for an engrossing ghost story.
“I’m not sure. She affects me. Just hearing her voice over the phone the other day made me a total wreck. I feel like I have to see her again, if nothing more than to see if this is real or not.”
“And what if it is? Real, I mean?”
Moxie shrugged. “I haven’t worked all that through yet.” She turned back around to apply her eye shadow. “Maybe I need a chaperone, so things don’t end up like they did last time.”
“Well, I’m free for the next week.”
“Would you really want to go?”
“To Hollywood? Are you daffy? You bet your ass I would! Just give me twelve seconds to pack.”
“I don’t have the jack for your train ticket, but if I did, I’d definitely be dragging you with me in the morning.” Irene looked dejected. “But why don’t you come with me tonight to the Luna? I can at least pull that off.”
“Yeah?”
“Sure. It’ll cheer you up. I’ll even buy you a drink.”
“You sound like a movie star already. What should I order?”
“Hmm, do you like licorice?”
*
Wil sat in her small apartment, taking long drags from her cigarette and staring at the red neon sign outside her window as it perpetually flashed “vacancy.” How could anything be so monumentally and constantly vacant? She snapped back to reality long enough to realize that she had not been listening to the radio program that was playing, and she contemplated standing and crossing the room to turn the goddamned thing off, but that seemed like so much trouble when she could just keep ignoring it.
A knock at the door made her rethink the effort of rising. “Who is it?”
“Your fairy godmother, child,” a muffled female voice said.
“Julian?” She walked to the door and opened it, surprised to see Violet leaning in the door frame, her arms crossed and her terrier at her feet. “Where the fuck did you come from?” Wil blurted, looking out into the hallway to see if anyone else was waiting there to surprise her—perhaps her dead grandmother.
> Violet seemed amused. “Well, my parents like to tell a story involving a stork, but personally I’m dubious.”
“No, I mean I thought you were in California. Did they kick you out?”
“Of the entire state? Based on the Californians I’ve met so far, I can’t fathom what I’d have to do to make that happen. Thanks,” she said, pushing her way into the unkempt apartment. “I’d love to come in. Good God, Wil, is the maid buried in here somewhere?”
“Is that what that scratching sound was?” Wil shut the door after Clitty pranced inside behind his master.
“This must be what they mean when they say good help is hard to find. Check under that pile of shit in the corner.”
“Have a seat,” Wil said in resignation. She watched as Violet tried to find a piece of furniture not covered with rumpled garments, papers, or piles of trash.
“What guarantee do I have that there’s really a chair under there?”
“Is my personal deep-seated suspicion good enough?”
“Has it ever been?” Violet unceremoniously shoved a heap of junk from the armchair onto the floor, then sat. “I’d like to ask how you’re doing, but my keen sense of intuition has answered that for me.”
Wil grunted in response.
“You spending the evening alone?”
“Just me, Amos n’ Andy.”
Violet’s expression softened. “What happened to Scandals and Lies ?”
Wil took a deep breath to steady herself. “That asshole director recast it.”
“Why?”
She drew in the last bit of blaze from the remains of her cigarette, exhaled through her nose, then stubbed the butt out brutally in the ashtray to her left. “I fucked it all up.”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean I balled up everything, but good.” She was frustrated and more than a little embarrassed. “I spent so much time blotto that I couldn’t remember my lines. And after getting shown the door there, I can’t get an audition anywhere else in town.”
Seduction of Moxie Page 11
