Lovers and Gamblers

by Collins, Jackie

  Doesn’t he? mused Linda. We shall see. If she got Dallas and Al together. If they hit it off. Well – maybe her problems would be solved.

  Dearest Al, I am offering you a swop. You may have Dallas, and I, thank you very much, will take back Paul.

  Linda smiled. It wasn’t a nice thing to do to a friend, but all is fair in love and war, and this was war.

  * * *

  New York was blisteringly hot. Crowds and photographers were at the airport to meet the plane. Al was whisked off to do a television interview and Paul, of course, went with him.

  Linda took a cab into the city. She was hot, tired, and more than a little disappointed at the way things were going. She wanted a bath, and a think, and maybe a man – a transient stud purely for medicinal purposes.

  Sometimes the only way to really relax was to lose yourself in a totally physical pastime. Linda had found that an occasional sexual scene was the only way she could turn off, and clear out her head. It did not mean that she loved Paul any the less, or that he wasn’t a good lover, it was just that sometimes sex without emotional complications was a great therapy treatment.

  She contemplated phoning Rik. She had seen him a few times over the last few months. He was a dumb actor with a beautiful body. They had met at their mutual supermarket.

  She stopped the cab and made the call.

  ‘You haven’t called me for weeks,’ Rik complained.

  ‘I’ve been out of the city.’

  ‘You could have let me know.’

  ‘Sorry. I thought I might pop over.’

  There was silence, then Rik said truculently: ‘You really are a bitch, you use me.’

  ‘Don’t you want me to come over then?’

  ‘Yes, of course I do.’

  ‘I’ll be there soon.’

  She hung up and sighed. Rik was right, she did use him. But why should he complain, he had been using women for years.

  She gave the driver his address and sat back. She felt no guilt. Why should she? Paul was still sleeping with his wife, and maybe an occasional groupie too – God knows, there were enough of them floating around.

  She lit a cigarette and hoped that Rik was not going to start giving her a heavy about not calling before. She had never allowed him her phone number or address and it bugged him. If he started getting uptight he would just have to go.

  He was easily replaceable.

  * * *

  Al smiled his way through the television interview. Stock questions. Stock answers. The interviewer was a well-known woman by the name of Marjorie Carter, who had her own news programme. She kept on giving him penetrating moody stares. She had formerly been a Washington journalist, and some said she had once had the ear of the President. Which one Al wasn’t quite sure, probably Kennedy, as she was about forty, but strikingly attractive in that groomed, designer-label clothes way.

  ‘That was fun,’ she said, after the show. ‘At least you can talk.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ Al asked.

  ‘I keep on getting supposed superstars on the show who sit transfixed by their own image on the monitor. So out of it they can barely string their ums and ers together.’

  ‘Sounds like a laugh.’

  ‘I have tickets for your performance tomorrow. Is it worth seeing?’

  Al smiled. Now they were off camera she wanted to put him in his place. ‘Depends what you’re looking for.’

  ‘Excitement.’ She had hot, frustrated eyes.

  ‘I think I can help you there.’

  ‘I’ll come then.’

  ‘Do that, and drop by the party later.’ Maybe if she was lucky he would give her one.

  Bernie came rushing over. ‘Sensational! Al, you came over great – but right on. Jeeze…’ He mopped at the sweat streaming down his face with a coloured handkerchief. ‘Word’s out you’re here – we gotta make a quick side exit – like, cement yourself to Luke and move like you gotta crap.’

  Bernie hustled Al up, and Luke – forever hovering – gripped onto his arm, and with Paul the other side they headed swiftly for the exit it was least expected they would emerge from.

  Neither Bernie nor Paul revealed to Al that while he had been on the show they had received a death threat. A telephone call from some displaced head – ‘I’m gonna kill that mothafuckin’ bastard son of a bitch…’

  Nothing unusual about threats, but you always had to take them seriously. You never knew when some nutter would decide to do something about it. Once Al had been on tour and a disgruntled husband had managed to smash his way into the dressing-room with an axe. It was only Paul’s quick thinking that had saved Al. He had tripped the maniac up and sat on him until help had arrived.

  They made the car in safety, sped to the hotel, entered through the underground garage.

  ‘Set me up a poker game,’ Al demanded of Paul, ‘and a girl. Lots of tit and ass and blond hair.’

  Paul frowned. Another girl. Al seemed insatiable on this trip. He raised eyebrows at Bernie and Bernie winked in reply. ‘I’ve got just the lady…’ What the fuck – Al would never know she was a hooker.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Alone, holed up in Linda’s apartment, Dallas did a lot of thinking. She was twenty years old. She was beautiful, and God knows she was at least as talented as half the girls who were making it in television and movies.

  What was she doing with her life? She was bumming around New York going out with guys she didn’t like, didn’t want to lay, and only wanted to give a hard time to. Was this the revenge she was supposed to be getting for Ed Kurlnik splitting? Some revenge.

  She was spending all her money at an alarming pace. And when that was gone – what then? Back to hustling? No, thank you.

  She was drinking too much. And if that freak hadn’t broken into her apartment, God knows what she would have done. Perhaps she should thank him. OK, so she had no one – not one person who cared about her. But she had her health, her looks, her talent, and goddamn it, she was going to make something of her life. Success was not such a distant dream. She was known, she had done a TV show and a commercial. She was always in the gossip columns. She wasn’t some little unknown Miami hooker any more.

  She formed a plan of action, and getting out of New York would be the first step. She would sell her jewellery and furs, and rent her apartment; that would give her capital. Then she would go to Los Angeles. She had received letters from a couple of agents who were anxious to meet her. She could go to an acting class there, she could study and learn. And if she was lucky enough to make it, she could have a baby. The thought delighted her. A human being. Flesh and blood that would belong to her. A little girl or a little boy, what difference, there would be someone she belonged to, someone who would eventually care.

  * * *

  Linda arrived back in the early evening.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked, disappearing into the shower. ‘Make some coffee and we’ll talk.’

  Dallas made coffee, and without being dramatic told Linda exactly what had taken place.

  ‘Jesus!’ exclaimed Linda. ‘It’s unbelievable!’ But she knew it happened fifty times a day. ‘Why didn’t you call the police? Don’t answer, I know it’s a dumb question. Anyway I’m glad you came here. I just can’t believe you talked him out of it. Weren’t you petrified?’

  Dallas shrugged. ‘I guess I just baulked at becoming another victim. I was so angry I forgot to be frightened.’

  ‘The trouble is if they ever caught him, all he’d probably get would be a telling-off and a three-month suspended sentence. Girl at my school got raped, she was fifteen and so was the boy. They ignored the fact that he held a knife to her throat – naughty, naughty, they said, and he was back in school the next week. The girl became a raving dyke and nobody cared.’

  ‘I feel together now. It was rough at the time but I’m over it. Thanks for the loan of your apartment, it’s so cosy here. I just crawled into bed and glued myself to the television. I can split now
you’re back.’

  ‘You can stay if you like. I’m only here for a couple of days and I’ll be sleeping over at the hotel.’

  ‘Thanks, but I’ve got this urge to get out of New York. If you don’t mind I might stay while I sort things out. Who do you know that will give me a good price on my jewellery?’

  ‘Hey, if you need money I can come up with some. You don’t…’

  ‘No. I want to sell it. Thanks anyway. Really, Linda, you have been great. I don’t know how to thank you. I mean I could have moved in and ripped you off – anything…’

  ‘I knew you wouldn’t do that. You needed help – I was able to. If I need help any time I’ll be at your front door like fire!’

  Dallas laughed. She had a friend, and it was a good feeling. Maybe Linda might have cared if she had taken the pills – maybe just a little.

  ‘How was Canada?’ she asked.

  Linda made a face. ‘Al was a sensation, as I’m sure you’ve read everywhere. Paul was busy holding his hand. I took some good pictures.’

  ‘I haven’t seen any papers.’ Dallas paused. ‘How is Al?’

  ‘He’s screwed his way through Canada. America, here he comes! I was going to ask you the ultimate favour and see if you would come out with us tonight but I changed my mind – after what you’ve been through I certainly couldn’t inflict Al on you.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind…’

  ‘You wouldn’t? Hey, that would be great. Paul seemed to think that you and Al were deadly enemies. According to Paul you’re the only female around who ever gave him a sharp no. As far as Paul is concerned Al has access to every woman in the world! I think Paul would be surprised if the Queen said no!’

  ‘Listen, I’ll come out. That doesn’t mean I’ll say yes.’

  ‘Sure. Look, I’ll give Paul a buzz and set it up.’ Linda smiled to herself. This was going to work out just fine. Maybe Paul was right, maybe Al was irresistible to most women.

  She shut herself in the bedroom and called the hotel.

  ‘How did the television show go?’ she asked.

  ‘Didn’t you watch it?’ Paul sounded pissed off. Nothing unusual, lately Paul always seemed pissed off.

  ‘I forgot.’

  ‘That’s great. Al will be delighted to hear that when he asks your opinion.’

  Linda almost laughed aloud. ‘Since when has Al wanted my opinion?’

  ‘Are you coming over?’

  ‘I thought we were going out.’

  ‘Al’s tired.’

  ‘Maybe he’ll revive when he hears who I’ve got him for a date.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Dallas. All set. Can we eat somewhere decent?’

  Paul glanced over at his brother. He was immersed in a poker game with three men. The blonde hooker was draped over the back of his chair looking bored.

  ‘It’s a little late in the day for that lady to start changing her mind.’ Paul lowered his voice. ‘Al’s well taken care of for tonight.’

  ‘You mean he doesn’t want a date with Dallas?’

  ‘No way.’

  ‘Did you ask him?’

  ‘He’s sitting right here.’

  ‘Let me speak to him.’

  ‘Linda, don’t push it. Are you coming over or not?’

  ‘Not.’ She hung up the phone. Now why had she done that? A sudden show of independence, not such a bad thing. Let’s play see if Paul will call me back.

  Dallas was washing her hair. ‘What shall I wear?’ she asked.

  ‘Forget it. Al’s taken a pill and gone to sleep.’

  ‘You’re kidding. It’s early…’

  ‘He’s got a big show at Madison Square Garden tomorrow. Tell you what, would you like to come and see it?’

  Dallas shrugged. She felt suddenly let down. ‘I don’t know. Can I see how I feel tomorrow?’

  ‘Sure. But it’s worth seeing. The master is at his peak, and it’s some show.’

  ‘I’m sure it is. But right now I feel like taking each day as it comes.’

  ‘Of course. I’d feel the same way after what you’ve been through. What do you say? Shall we venture out to dinner on our own?’

  ‘Why not?’

  They went to a small Italian restaurant, ignored the stares of the men, gorged on salad niçoise and fettucini, and talked.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be with Paul tonight?’ Dallas asked.

  ‘He’s holding big brother’s hand.’

  ‘Even while he sleeps?’

  ‘Al demands full attention at all times.’

  Dallas shook her head in amazement. ‘I don’t know how you can stand it.’

  ‘I don’t know myself. Listen, strictly between us Paul has become a pain in the ass. I think maybe my being on the tour is a bad idea, and this is only the beginning. Can you imagine how I’m going to feel about him in a few weeks?’

  ‘It’s probably a good thing. Get your head together on your real feelings for him.’

  ‘Right now my real feelings are – ugh! Never get involved with a married one, kid.’

  Dallas laughed. ‘You’re telling me. What the hell do you think Ed Kurlnik was? Married. Single. They are all shits.’

  Linda sighed. ‘Sometimes they can be nice shits.’

  ‘Oh, come on. You know better than that.’

  ‘You’re very bitter, Dallas. Don’t let one guy who tried to rape you put you off the whole race. You’re too young and too beautiful…’

  Dallas laughed. ‘Some day remind me to tell you about my past. That one guy was just one of many who formed my opinion on the entire male sex.’

  When they got back to the apartment the phone was ringing. Linda picked it up quickly.

  ‘Where the hell were you?’ Paul sounded pissed off.

  ‘Out getting laid.’

  ‘Charming, really charming.’

  ‘Dallas and I went to Pinos and had some food.’

  ‘Oh. Do you want to come over?’

  ‘Just me?’

  ‘No, bring ten or twelve of your neighbours if that’s what gets you going.’

  ‘Funny. I meant…’

  ‘I know what you meant. Listen, sweetheart, I know she’s your friend and all that, but for Al she is bad news. I can sense it, got a feeling. Know what I mean?’

  ‘No, I don’t know what you mean. But if you’re offering me your fine English body I’ll be right over.’

  ‘I’m offering.’

  ‘I’m there.’ Linda put the phone down, turned to explain to Dallas, but she had gone into the bathroom. Linda knocked, but there was no reply. ‘I’m going,’ she called out. ‘See you tomorrow.’

  Dallas stared at her reflection in the mirror. Bye-bye, Linda. He calls. You run. No wonder he treats you like shit. She waited until she heard the apartment door slam, then she emerged from the bathroom. It was twelve thirty. She felt very alone. She bolted the apartment door, double-locked it, checked that all the windows had safety catches fastened. There didn’t seem much else to do.

  Reluctantly she went to bed. But sleep was a long time coming, and when it did creep up on her it was full of bad dreams.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The bomb scare came five minutes before Al was due to go on.

  Bernie happened to take the call, and his heart lurched into a series of sharp palpitations as he heard the quiet, nondescript voice explain to him that three bombs would go off at three-minute intervals during the course of Al’s performance.

  ‘Fuck you,’ Bernie managed to scream down the phone before the line clicked dead in his hand.

  ‘Another fan?’ asked Al drily.

  Bernie nodded, his mind racing. How the fuck had they gotten through to Al in his dressing room anyway? And why call him? Why not the newspapers? The police? Anyone but him. Why should he have to be the one responsible for the fact that there may or may not be three bombs waiting to blow up hundreds of Al’s fans? Jesus, wasn’t it enough that he had the press to deal with? Wasn’t that punishment enough
?

  Anyway, there was heavy security. It must be another hoax. Bernie frowned. Just pretend it never happened. Just sweat it out.

  ‘See you, man.’ Al was buoyant.

  The gladiator off for the kill.

  ‘What the fuck,’ replied Bernie. ‘Give ’em your balls, baby.’

  Al grinned. He was on top. Right on top. New York lay responsive and waiting like a particularly accommodating whore. He could do what he wanted. They had paid their money and they were ready to enjoy him, devour him, give him the greatest come of his life.

  He strode on stage and was drowned in a mass sound-wave of screaming. He felt himself grow hard. The power hard-on. Boy, if he was fucking instead of singing he could go all night. He gave a boxer’s salute, waved, grabbed the microphone and launched right into ‘Blue Funk Rock’. The audience roared its approval.

  * * *

  Watching him, Dallas felt that she didn’t know him at all. She didn’t know him that well anyway. A few brief conversations, one dance, a strong attraction, that was just part of his whole charisma.

  Watching him made her realize just how right she had been not to get involved.

  This man rocking and weaving around the stage was public domain. He belonged to ‘them’, the people. He was, quite rightly, a superstar. She could see why. She could look at him objectively.

  It all became clear. She had wanted him sexually because she was supposed to want him sexually. He was selling sex. So he had a great voice, but so did a lot of other singers. His appeal was the combination. The sexuality that radiated a message to every woman watching him.

  Dallas smiled, it was a relief. She didn’t need him, she didn’t need anyone.

  She glanced quickly at the fag hairdresser whom she had brought with her. He was entranced, his eyes bright, his body moving to the sound of Al.

  She looked around her. Al seemed to have everyone mesmerized. She could recognize a few celebrities. Linda had given her exceptionally good tickets. Wasn’t that Marjorie Carter? And God – Ed Kurlnik. What was he doing here? The cheap bastard. She wasn’t sure, but it looked like he was with one of his daughters. Was it Dana? If it was, they had both been engaged to Kip Rey, so they had much in common. Kip had told her stories Ed would never believe about his darling daughter.