She couldn’t even go on shopping sprees like she had before she was married. She had been allowed to buy one evening gown in the five months she had been here. “You have more clothes than a department store,” Miriam had snorted. Maybe she did, but she got tired of them. Didn’t Miriam realize it was important to wear something new? But Miriam had only three dresses, and they all looked alike. Miriam went to parties in a five-year-old blue lace dress and white orthopedic shoes!
Miriam gave her an allowance of fifty dollars a week. She sent it all to her mother, and her mother kept writing that it wasn’t enough. She had tried to talk to Tony about the money situation, but she hardly ever saw him. He was either recording, learning new songs or rehearsing his radio show. And at dinner there was always Miriam. At night, alone in the large bed, he was the old Tony, grasping for her greedily. But after it was over, she couldn’t reach him. She had tried to explain that if she could be a part of his life and career she wouldn’t be bored, but he didn’t seem to understand. “Miriam takes care of all that—talk to her.”
When she mentioned money it was the same: “Talk to Miriam, she’ll give you all you need.” And Miriam had all the answers. “Whaddaya need money for? I pay for all the food and the booze. You can charge the gas. Fifty dollars is plenty for pin money.”
It couldn’t go on like this. How much longer could she just sit by the pool? She had read three books so far this week and it was only Friday. The sun had crept under the umbrella again. She jumped up. She had to do something, go somewhere. Maybe Neely would be home. She had just finished her second picture and the studio had promised her a month’s vacation. She went into the house and changed into slacks. She was glad for Neely. Her first picture had gotten raves and Jennifer had seen a sneak preview of the new one—it was great. She hadn’t seen much of Neely, though. They talked on the phone occasionally, but Neely had just changed her number again and she didn’t have the new unlisted one.
She drove the eight blocks—you just didn’t walk in California. Anyway, if Neely wasn’t home she’d go over to Schwab’s. Maybe Sidney Skolsky would be there and they could sit and talk. Sidney loved Hollywood, but he also understood how she felt.
Mel opened the door. He was in bathing trunks. He had filled out and the tan made him look almost healthy. He led Jennifer to the swimming pool. “Want some lunch? I’m having a sandwich.”
Jennifer shook her head. She sat down in the shade. Their pool was identical to hers. Same kidney shape, same cabana area, same tennis court and prop bar. She looked off to the purplish hills. Did Mel sit around all day, too?
“Neely’s at the studio,” he explained. “Wardrobe fittings.”
“I thought she had a month off.”
“Sure, a month off before shooting. That means a month of wardrobe fittings, makeup tests and publicity stills. But she should be home any minute. Hey, did you hear? Ted Casablanca’s doing her clothes.”
“She’s really in the big leagues,” Jennifer said. “Ted won’t design for anyone but the top stars.”
Mel hunched his bony shoulders. “Only in Hollywood could this happen. Women fainting because some fag deigns to dress them. Any place else, if you pay the money you get the article. In New York does Saks worry if a customer will do justice to their creations? But out here everything is a status symbol. Neely’s dieting now—is that a laugh?”
“Why? Has she gained weight?”
“She weighs one hundred and eighteen. She’s always weighed that. She’s five feet five—that’s a nice weight. But this Casablanca—he wants her to lose fifteen pounds. Says her face will be more interesting and the clothes will look better. She takes little green pills . . . doesn’t eat a thing.”
Neely suddenly arrived, her old breathless self. She was delighted to see Jennifer. “Have you heard?” she squealed. “Ted Casablanca’s doing my clothes! Oh, Jennifer, he’s divine! I’m going to be beautiful for a change. He’s making me some really glamorous things—real understated. Geez, when I remember that awful purple taffeta! Ted says I should have the gamin look, the mischievous little girl. But chic. After all, I’m eighteen now—it’s about time.”
“I hear you’re dieting.”
“Yeah. Mel, get me some skimmed milk. Want anything, Jen?”
“A Coke.”
“We only have club soda. I don’t keep anything fattening around. Mel, make Jen a lemonade. How’s that?” Neely watched him leave, then she turned back to Jennifer, her childish eyes wide with concern.
“Oh, Jen, I don’t know what to do. He’s changed so—he just can’t get with it. Everything he does he bungles.”
“I wouldn’t say that. He’s gotten you a lot of publicity. That story in Screen World is a great layout.”
Neely shook her head. “The studio did that. They told him to butt out. He gets in the way all the time. They don’t want him on the set—they say I’m self-conscious when he’s around. And Ted Casablanca says he’s the joke of the town.”
“I wouldn’t take that seriously. You know how bitchy fags can be.”
“Fag!” Neely’s eyes blazed. “Don’t you dare call him that! Why, he’s—he’s wonderful, that’s all! He’s only thirty and he’s made three million dollars. And he’s not a fag!”
“Really?”
“Really. What do you think I’ve been doing today? Fitting costumes? That’s what I told Mel. We’ve been doing it—Ted and I—in every position. In his gorgeous air-conditioned studio. And let me tell you, he’s no—” She stopped suddenly. Mel was bringing in the tray with their drinks.
“I’ve lost five pounds already,” Neely said as Mel handed her the milk. She took out a bottle and popped a speckled green capsule into her mouth. “What an invention,” she said. “They’re absolutely marvelous, Jen. Really kill your appetite. Only trouble is, they pep me up so much I can’t sleep.”
“Try Seconals,” Jennifer suggested.
“They really work?”
“Gloriously. They’re beautiful little red dolls that take all your cares away and give you nine blissful hours of sleep a night.”
“No kidding? I’ll try them. Mel, Call Dr. Holt right away. Tell him to send me a hundred.”
“A hundred?” Jennifer’s voice caught in her throat. “Neely, they aren’t aspirin. You only take one a night. No doctor will give you more than twenty-five.”
“They won’t, huh? Wanna bet? Dr. Holt is the studio doctor. He’ll give me anything I ask for. Mel, call him right now.” Mel lumbered off to the phone. “Just one a night, huh?”
Jennifer nodded. She saw no reason to tell Neely she sometimes took as many as three. One would help Neely. Besides, she intended to cut down—as soon as she straightened things out with Tony.
Mel had gone to telephone. Neely watched until he was out of sight. Then she pulled her chair closer. “I got to get fitted for another diaphragm. Twice last month Mel didn’t pull out in time. That sonofabitch is trying to get me pregnant.”
“I thought you wanted children.”
“Not with him. I’m gonna unload him.”
“Neely!”
“Look, he’s a drag. Honest, Jennifer, he’s changed completely. He has no incentive. I talked it over with The Head, and he agrees. Mel just gets in the way. He insisted I shouldn’t lose weight, kept yelling I was fine just as I am. But now that I’m losing weight I’m getting the real star buildup with some glamour. See, Mel is in a rut. He’s small time, and he won’t get with it and change. But I gotta be careful. See, there’s community property out here. Mel could claim half of everything.”
“What will you do?”
“It’s all being worked out.” She lowered her voice to a real whisper. “The Head is seeing to it that Mel gets a big offer in the East. With one of the top publicity offices. I’ll make him go. The Head is going to fix it, have him caught—you know—with a girl. And I’ll get the divorce.”
“Neely, you can’t!”
“Well, what can I do? I hinted at divo
rce last week, and you know what he did? He started crying like a baby. He said he couldn’t live without me. Is that a drag? I need a man who tells me what to do, a guy I can lean on, not one who leans on me. And all I’d ever have to do is get knocked up by him and then he’d never leave, not even for New York.”
“How do you know he’ll accept the job?”
“I’ll make him. I’ll tell him that if he makes good—if the job works out—I’ll come there and get in a Broadway show and have a baby and live in New York.”
“Would you?”
Neely looked at her strangely. “Leave California? All this? Are you crazy? I got it made here. After my next picture I’ll be a full-fledged star!”
“But you could be a star in New York, on Broadway.”
“A star on Broadway. Big deal! That’s chicken feed. When you’re a star in pictures you’re a star all over the world. Do you know my picture is playing in London? Imagine! They know who I am in London! One movie—and I’m ten times better known than Helen Lawson will ever be. And when you’re a star in pictures, you get treated like a star. Everything is done for you. I remember Helen had to ride the train to New Haven like the rest of us and dress in. a drafty dressing room. Geez, our toilets at the studio are fancier than a star’s dressing room in the theatre. My dressing room is a bungalow as big as Helen’s Park Avenue apartment. When you’re a hot property—that’s what I am—they do everything for you. I just mentioned to The Head—that’s what we all call C. H. Bean. He’s such a wonderful little man . . . sweet, and you can talk to him like a father. I never knew my father. But as I was saying, I just mentioned to him that I wanted to lose some weight. Geez, know what he did? He had a steam room built onto my bungalow and hired a personal masseuse. And they pay for it. When I have to go anywhere—like an opening—they send a car and chauffeur for me and lend me furs and dresses. And if my next picture is as big as the first two, The Head says he’s gonna give me a new contract at a big salary jump—maybe to two thousand a week.”
“That’s really big money, Neely.”
“Nah, the Johnson Harris office says I’m worth even more. In fact, they might step in and renegotiate, maybe to twenty-five hundred a week. I could probably get it, too. All I gotta do is snap my fingers and I can have anything I want The Head says maybe after another year I should dump this rented house and buy one in Beverly Hills. That’s classier.”
“Why not take it easy and save your money?”
“Why? I’m not scared any more. Know why? Because I’ve got talent, Jen. I never realized it back East. I used to think everyone could sing and dance. But in my second picture I found I could act, too. Did you see when I cried? That was no glycerine. The director just talked to me about the part, the situation the girl was in, and I felt it. And then I really cried.”
Jennifer nodded. “You made me cry, too. I saw the preview last week.”
Neely stretched her arms expansively. “I love it here. This town was made for me.”
Mel returned. “The pills will be here any minute. Dr. Holt said it was a very good idea.” He sat down. “Want to see a movie tonight, Neely?”
“Can’t. Have to be up at six tomorrow. Color tests.”
He stared moodily at the swimming pool. “I don’t have to be up at any time. I’m getting stir crazy just sitting around. . . .”
Jennifer thought about Mel as she drove home. She suddenly wondered how Tony felt about her. Was she a drag, too? If Tony didn’t get the picture she was going to insist they go back to New York. He could do the radio show from there. But he would get the picture. She knew he would. And she’d be stuck here. Soon Tony would start feeling about her like Neely felt about Mel—if he didn’t already. There would be stars playing opposite him in pictures, and young starlets chasing after him. How long could she go on sitting like this? She was almost twenty-seven, and soon it would begin to show. . . .
She almost went through a traffic light as the idea hit her. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? A baby! She would have a baby! It would bring Tony closer to her, and she’d have something to occupy her thoughts. Something to love. Oh, God, how she’d love it . . . they’d be so close. It would be a girl, it had to be! And she’d be a wonderful mother. She was exhilarated when she got home. It would be her secret.
She dressed with great care for the party. She would start her new project tonight!
September, 1947
She missed her first period in August. At first she was too excited to say anything, but in September, when she missed the second time, she knew. Her waistline had expanded two inches.
She went to a doctor, who verified her hopes and congratulated her. Tony was in a closed recording session, and she couldn’t disturb him. But she had to tell someone. She wanted to shout it at the policeman directing traffic; she wanted to go to Schwab’s and yell at everybody. But that wouldn’t be right. Tony would want to give it a big press release. Neely! She would tell Neely! It was almost five. Neely would be through shooting for the day.
She drove to the studio. The gateman checked and directed her through to Neely’s imposing bungalow. Neely was getting a massage.
“Hey, come on in,” she shouted. “Your timing is perfect. I was going to phone you tonight. Guess what—it’s all set! Mel leaves for New York tomorrow!”
“Is it still Ted?”
“Of course! What do you think I am? Some kind of a bum? I’m a one-man woman. Ted and me—” She stopped and shouted at the masseuse, “Okay, that’s enough, scram. I wanna talk to my girl friend in private.”
When the woman had gone, she dropped the towel. “Well, how do you like the new streamlined Neely? I got a twenty-inch waistline now, and I weigh ninety-eight pounds.”
“Does Ted like you this thin?”
“Does he!” She climbed into a robe. “He even likes my little boobs. They shrunk some, but he says big ones make him think of a cow. And they look lousy in the broad-shouldered look. We’re getting married as soon as this Mel business is settled. And guess what? We’re signing a premarital agreement. It was The Head’s idea . . . this way we’ll both know we’re marrying for love, and not for each other’s property.”
Jennifer managed a smile. “Neely, guess what? I’m two months pregnant.”
“Oh, Geez.” Neely was instantly concerned. “Well, there’s a guy in Pasadena. He’s supposed to be very good. The Head sends everyone who gets knocked up to him. First he tries shots, then if they don’t work . . . The abortion is easy. He even gives anesthesia.”
“Neely, you don’t understand. I want this baby. I planned it. I’m happy about it.”
“Oh. Well say, that’s marvelous. You know, it’s beginning to show already, now that you mention it. You’ve lost your marvelous waistline.”
“Who cares, as long as I have a marvelous baby.” Jennifer mimicked Neely’s enunciation of the word.
Neely laughed good-naturedly. “After it’s all over, I’ll lend you some of my green dolls to help you get your figure back.”
“They sure worked for you.”
“Yeah, but the trouble is, you gotta keep taking them. The second I stop, I eat like a maniac. But the feeling is great—sets you on fire, like you could dance for hours. And I bless you every night for the red ones. They saved my life. Oh, hey. Have you ever tried a yellow one? They’re called Nembutals. If you take one of each—a red and a yellow—wow! You really sleep. I learned it by experiment. The red one puts you to sleep fast, but it wears off in six hours. The yellow works slower, but lasts longer. So I figured, why not try both? I only do it on weekends. Sometimes I sleep twelve hours.”
“I’m not going to take anything now that I’m pregnant. I don’t want it to hurt the baby.”
“Yeah, but if you don’t sleep, you’ll look bad, won’t you?”
“For the first time in my life, I’m not worrying about my looks. I want a perfect baby. If I lie awake all night, I won’t care.”
Neely grinned. “You sound corny
, but I guess I’ll feel that way, too. After I marry Ted and negotiate my new contract, then I’ll get pregnant. But meanwhile—thank God for those red, yellow and green dolls.”
Jennifer hoped Tony had nothing planned for the evening. She wanted to go to that little restaurant in the Valley—without Miriam—and tell him there.
She saw the extra car in the driveway. It belonged to Delia, the part-time extra maid. Oh, damn! That meant something was on for tonight.
Miriam was waiting for her. “Tony signed the contract today!” Her homely face was glowing. “They just seen the rushes of his color test. He’s got a five-year deal at Metro, and he starts on the picture two weeks from Monday. Dress real ladylike tonight—the director and his wife are coming for dinner. And the musical conductor and a few others are dropping by later.”
Jennifer dressed carefully. All right, she’d break it at dinner. Publicly! As she struggled with the zipper of her dress she realized she couldn’t wait much longer. Tony would notice it soon anyway.
She took a Martini before dinner. Miriam stared at her in amazement. Jennifer sparkled, made small talk with the wife of the director, passed the canapés—was the perfect Hollywood wife. She waited until the wine was served at dinner, then stood up slowly, holding her glass in the air. Carefully avoiding Miriam’s hostile stare, she said, “I want to make a toast—to me.” Then she giggled. “I mean, to what’s in me. Tony and I are going to have a baby.”
Everyone cheered, glasses clinked, Tony leaped out of his chair and hugged her. But Jennifer had not missed Miriam’s audible gasp and stricken look. When the excitement died down, her eyes met Miriam’s. This time the pudgy face held only a pleasant smile.
Valley of the Dolls Page 26
