Still, she could use his need . . .
Melanie tossed her butt out the window. Underneath assorted junk in the glove compartment she found what she was looking for, a prepaid cell phone. A married guy she’d been seeing in Boston, a source of great coke, had given it to her, telling her to use it to call him so his wife wouldn’t know, he had one as well. Melanie had pretended it was a brilliant idea, not bothering to mention she had a collection of them, practically every married guy she’d been with having the same idea, like they’d all graduated from the same school of adultery.
The battery was dead, so she rooted around for a charger, plugged it into the cigarette lighter, and punched in Lenny’s number. Some of that good coke would be really good right about now.
Lenny lay in his hard narrow bunk bed. Sweat dripped under his tee shirt. He couldn’t go downstairs to the one room with air conditioning, because both his mother and Tom were home, and he didn’t want to face the cross examination about the job hunt he’d pretended he’d been on. He’d gone out, but only to find Melanie, and had snuck in the back door and surreptitiously dashed up to the attic in his bare feet.
He’d switched his phone to vibrate and it lay on his chest where he’d be sure to feel it, yet he couldn’t resist constantly checking to see if he’d missed a message. Melanie would call, he was sure of it.
A few hours earlier he’d panicked, it suddenly dawning on him that Melanie probably didn’t have his phone number, he’d never gotten that far with her. But she was smart, she’d figure out how to contact him.
He hoped.
To pass the time he flicked through the shots he had of Melanie on his camera, too few of them. The first two he had taken, in the restaurant when he’d first discovered her, just her backside, so hot. A few others he’d managed, quick snaps, his camera on the strap, wide angle. Junk photos, no way to sell them, even when Melanie became really famous, but Lenny could fill in the blanks, they were his.
He’d have more soon enough.
Melanie had stopped for him at the back of the Hilton; beneath all her high and mighty bluster she knew she needed him. He had leaned into her psychologically, and for the first time since he had spoken to her, she had blinked.
She was obviously afraid of what he could do, she had to be desperate to keep her story going about Jason. He knew it, and she knew he knew. All the dancing around would end, sooner or later. She’d give up. And even better, give it up.
The more Lenny thought about it, the more he realized how fragile Melanie’s situation was. Sure, she’d been on The Other Woman, she’d played her card and so far she was ahead. But she was bluffing, and though the rest of the world might be buying her story, at least enough of it, Lenny had proof of her deception. That he couldn’t exactly produce the Tazik photos or admit Melanie couldn’t be with Jason because he himself was in her apartment didn’t bother him at all. The important thing was that Melanie realized he knew her secret, and she’d always wonder. If he had to he could threaten to go to the police, they’d get the photos from Tazik. Then what could Melanie do?
Melanie needed Lenny just as much as he needed her. More, because she had more to lose. If Melanie walked out of his life today, Lenny would be no worse off than he was before. Melanie, though, would be screwed. Hard as it was to make it as an actress, Melanie would have a tough time getting cast in amateur theater if word got out about her made up assault story.
If Melanie didn’t play ball, Lenny could ruin her entire life. He didn’t have any friend at Channel Ten, but no doubt one would be easy to find if he needed to. Reporters were even more bloodthirsty than actors.
As the afternoon wore on he kept adding to the list in his head of what he’d demand from Melanie. A contract as her manager, to be sure. A retainer; he’d tell her he needed to focus on her exclusively, he wouldn’t have time to be chasing down celebrity photos.
And most of all, a little time in the sack, the ultimate proof of her acceptance of his terms. She’d slept with that Tazik guy for a lot less.
The next time he got Melanie in bed he wouldn’t be sneaking around in the dark, wearing a mask. She wouldn’t be able to pretend or deny he was there.
He fingered the last of the roofies in his pocket, always handy. He wouldn’t need them for her, he’d probably never need them again.
Lenny dozed off, smiling, letting it play out in his head, making the movie come out exactly how he wanted.
The buzzing phone jolted him awake, his camera crashing to the floor. No name, just a number he didn’t recognize.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Lenny, it’s Melanie.”
As if he wouldn’t recognize her voice. “I knew you’d call.”
“I want to talk. About everything.”
Given what he’d been dreaming about, it wasn’t hard for Lenny to read a lot into that word, everything. He was wide awake, sitting up in the bed. “Sure. Your place?”
There was a pause, then Melanie said, “I don’t know. There have been a lot of press following me around. I think until we get things straightened out between us it might be better if we aren’t seen together. You were right about the Jason story, I need to keep that alive, so I can’t be seen with another man. Not now.”
Lenny got it. “That makes sense.” As long as Melanie was willing to see him, he didn’t care where. Although not here, no way he’d bring her to Tom’s attic.
“Unless you think you should come to my place?” Melanie’s voice was hesitant, deferential.
She was looking for his guidance already. “Nah, not now. We’ll have time enough for that.”
“If you’re sure. It’s pretty quiet.”
“You never know who might be sneaking around. Better not risk it.” He certainly knew how easy it was to spy on her apartment.
“If you say so.” There was another hesitation. “You’re right. We better get out of Marburg, too many people know me here. And if we’re getting together, could you bring your camera? I need some new photos.”
“Sure.” Lenny was already reaching for the strap.
Melanie’s voice shifted. “If things work out, maybe we can do a few au natural.”
“Like Tazik did?” Lenny cursed himself, he didn’t want to sound petty, especially now that he practically had her. So what if she’d been with Tazik? That was the past, she wouldn’t need Tazik any longer.
“You’ve seen those?”
Melanie sounded more curious than angry, so Lenny said, “Something like that.”
“I’ll let you shoot something better. Much better.”
Lenny grinned. This was more like it. “We’re going to be great together.”
“I hope so. But Lenny, we still have some things to work out. I’ve got a very complicated plan in motion and we have to make sure we’re on the same page.”
“I get it, I do.”
“Just keep it quiet until we have a chance to talk, okay? Don’t tell anyone.” Melanie’s voice turned hard, so sharp that Lenny couldn’t tell if it was an act. “If you do, and you can’t give me what I need, I’ll humiliate you worse than you can imagine. I swear I’ll take you down with me.”
“Hey, don’t worry, baby, this is Lenny Gruse you’re talking to.”
“I still don’t know you. You’ll have to—prove yourself.”
Lenny tightened. Was that a crack about his inability to perform in her bedroom? “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve got what it takes. But we’ll have to be public at some point, that’s going to be part of the deal.”
“One step at a time. I’m prepared to do my part.”
Lenny relaxed, Melanie sounded like she was on board. He was still confused as to why she hadn’t brought up the whole bedroom situation, but maybe she didn’t want to piss him off. Or she really didn’t know. Or care.
“Where should we meet?” he asked, already pulling off his pants, he needed to get in the shower.
“You know Greenhill? East on the expressway toward Boston about
ten miles. When you get off the exit go through the town and cross the railroad tracks. There’s a very private little place there called the Greenhill Motel.”
Lenny didn’t want to admit he barely knew his way around Marburg. It sounded easy to find though. “Why way out there?”
“I told you, we have to do this privately. Plus I know the desk clerk, he can get us a room for nothing. Unless you want to spring for a room?”
“Uh, I figured, you know, you must have some cash coming in from—”
“What, we’re having a date and you want me to pay?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It takes a while for the checks to show up. Anyway, like I said we can get a room for free. And I mean it, before I get in bed with you professionally I need to see if—if you are good doing it for real, you know what I mean?”
There it was again, another veiled reference to his temporary impotence. Or maybe he was just being sensitive. “Sure, sure.”
“Good. When you get to the Greenhill, don’t go in, the manager might be there, and the guy I know won’t recognize you, so you just can’t go telling him you’re expecting a freebie. There’s a parking lot out back, just wait for me back there if you don’t see my car. You know my car, right?”
“The blue Toyota, sure. Melanie, we got to get better wheels.”
“If things work out right, we won’t be driving ourselves around any more, limos all the way.”
That sounded just fine to Lenny. “What time?”
“How about ten tonight? I got to go somewhere before that.”
“It better not be another date.” Lenny tried to keep his voice light.
“Not that kind,” said Melanie, and she hung up.
Melanie stared out of her grimy windows at the even grimier street, the din of crashing pots and pans from the restaurant below so loud she could barely hear the television. Not that she was listening. She’d been standing in the same spot for an hour, her eyes unfocused, using all her faculties to figure a way out of her problem.
The situation with Lenny was even worse than she had thought. Lenny had certainly seen the photos Tazik had taken of her in the hotel that night she’d slept with him. She’d been too drunk to remember exactly what was on them, a vague recollection of laughing as Tazik showed her some and held back others, implying he’d captured more of her than she’d ever let be photographed.
She’d deal with Taz later. Even if he had recognizable nudes, who was he going to show them to? They’d been shot in a hotel bed. How would he explain that to his wife? No one would care anyway, half the actresses in Hollywood had nude photos floating around, and the other half wished they had a body good enough that people would want to see them naked.
Taz wouldn’t be a problem.
Lenny, on the other hand, was a mine field. He could screw with her a dozen ways.
And the whole thing with Gigi. Melanie had hoped that Lenny would let something slip on the call, but he’d been cagier than she had expected, not admitting that he knew where she lived, or rather, where he thought she lived. She’d pushed it as far as she could. Any more he’d get suspicious, and she might never learn the truth. The phone wasn’t the right way, she had to be looking at his face.
If Lenny didn’t get his way, she had no doubt he would play his trump card, he’d claim Melanie had made up the whole Jason story. She could deny it, claim Lenny was just trying to get some publicity, although she’d have to be especially brazen to pull that off, since it was what she was doing too. Lenny could say it had been his idea all along, the photos at the press conference, the whole game. Who knows who he had already blabbed to about his connection with her.
Who has seen her with Lenny? Some people at the club, at the restaurant, at the hotel. Nothing that couldn’t be explained; Lenny just one of many guys hitting on her, although the bar scene where’d he broken the glass dish—maybe she’d have to talk to the bartender about that. It was another reason why she’d picked an out of the way place to meet Lenny tonight, the fewer people who saw her with him, the better.
An especially loud smash from the restaurant below, a pot crashing to the floor. That’s what she needed, something to smash Lenny’s head in if he was the one who had broken into Gigi’s apartment. And even if he hadn’t, smash his head anyway, scare him off.
Would that work? Melanie considered bringing someone along to meet with Lenny. The bartender at the Hilton, he had a thing for her. The bouncer at the club. Shit, she could think of ten guys who’d be happy to beat the crap out of Lenny just to make her happy. Even Taz might be willing to do it.
Too complicated. The last thing she needed was some other asshole who felt that she owed him.
Maybe she could talk Larry Barrett into getting Lenny some kind of gig, pay him a few bucks, make him feel important. Shut him up. She’d have to figure out a way to explain why. Even more complicated. Plus Lenny wouldn’t settle for that, just as she wouldn’t if she were in his shoes. If she had what Lenny had to hang over someone’s head, she’d milk it for everything. She didn’t even blame Lenny for that part, it was just the way things worked. You used what you had, or you got nowhere.
No, she’d have to take care of this herself. Find out what Lenny had, and if it was something that could come back to bite her, destroy it.
And find out if Lenny was guilty of the break-in at Gigi’s. And especially if it had been more than a break-in. If it had, she’d make him pay.
She wished she had a gun to threaten Lenny with. She had no doubt she could scratch his eyes bloody, kick him so hard in the balls he wouldn’t be able to walk for a week. She’d done all of that to men before, and more. But a kick in the nuts was useless as a threat, it wouldn’t stop Lenny from turning on her the minute he got his voice back.
Another crash from below, a tray of silverware, cymbals reverberating in her head. Silverware . . .
In her tiny kitchen she pulled open the cabinet under the sink. A wide eyed mouse stared at her, either too surprised or not afraid to move. Melanie threw a scouring pad at it, then rooted around amidst the clutter of kitchen detritus left behind by previous tenants, frying pans, plastic cups, there, a kitchen carving knife.
She held it up, waving it theatrically. One look at that and Lenny would wet his pants. He thought he knew her, he didn’t know shit. She’d convince him she was a nut job, that she’d cut him open. She wouldn’t even have to act.
CHAPTER 20
At eight thirty Melanie was back at the Hilton, this time walking in the front door. She was wearing a bright blue plunge cut dress and a new pair of Jimmy Choos, courtesy of Tazik, who’d paid off. The dress had been a gift from some other guy. Blue wasn’t her color so she’d never worn it, but it was time for people to start remembering her.
Melanie did her usual pass through the bar, lingering a little longer, getting a comp drink from her bartender friend, giving off the vibe that she was waiting for Jason or had just come from his room. After throwing back the rest of the drink she drove to the club. She gave the bouncer’s arm the usual squeeze and walked in, feeling the eyes on her, she never tired of the rush.
Fiona was at the bar, two guys in leather hitting on her. Fiona seemed to be enjoying the attention. Melanie caught her eye, Fiona’s face tightening, Melanie catching the hidden message. I like you, girl, but if come over here flashing your cleavage at these two guys I’ll rip your heart out. Melanie gave Fiona a smile, she had more important things on her mind than stealing some bikers from a bartender.
Melanie made a quick walk though the entire place. At the front bar she let a group of middle aged men buy her a drink and chat her up, telling them she was on her way to meet her boyfriend, just stopping to say hello to a few friends. From any other woman the men might have taken this as a brush off, but the way Melanie was dressed and the way she looked had them all convinced—of course she had a boyfriend. Melanie made sure they got her name and then slipped out, the bouncer still spinning his keys.
Back at her apartment she stripped off the dress and shoes and quickly slipped into jeans, black sneakers, and a man’s shirt. She stuffed her hair under a Bruins cap, changed her mind—people might remember a hockey cap in summer—replacing it with her worn Red Sox cap. Half the people in Marburg wore those, men and women.
Melanie doubted all this secrecy was necessary, but she’d been a little sloppy with Lenny, and now that she suspected what he could do to bring her down, she had to create as much distance from him as she could. The last thing she needed was for Lenny to claim he’d concocted the whole Jason story with her, followed by people popping up who had seen them together, like she and Lenny were dating.
Just thinking it made her cringe.
In the Toyota she popped in a CD and took a final look around the back lot, deserted, as usual, even the restaurant staff didn’t park back here.
On the way to Greenhill she rehearsed how she’d work Lenny. The most important thing was finding out about Gigi, but if she started with that she’d never learn what else she needed to know. She’d have to control herself, build up to it, find out about the photos, how incriminating they were, if there were copies, what else Lenny knew, whether he could prove anything. Only when that was accomplished could she trap him into admitting whether he was at Gigi’s.
With her, she reminded herself. If Lenny had broken into Gigi’s apartment, he had thought he was at Melanie’s. That was how she’d work it, she’d hint around that she wanted more, why had he left so soon . . .
Just another acting job, it shouldn’t be that hard. In fact the more she thought of it as a role the easier it would be, nothing personal, it wasn’t about her or Gigi, just a part to play.
Until she found out the truth.
The knife lay on the seat next to her, dull, no reflections from the streetlights giving it away. She should slip it under the seat; if she got stopped by a cop it would be hard to explain, but it gave her comfort. The time she’d beaten up the boy who had groped Gigi she hadn’t brought a knife, she’d used her fists, her fingernails, her teeth. Maybe it was a good thing she hadn’t had a knife that day, who knows what she might have done.
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