She smiled at him. ‘The money?’
‘For now.’
They understood each other.
Dindi felt a tingle of excitement. Charlie didn’t excite her: she didn’t feel free to be herself. With him she was still playing Baby Girl.
‘Listen, if you want to count your money, I have an apartment on the eighteenth floor, apartment E.’ He winked at her and walked off.
Well, the sonofabitch was certainly sure of himself, but so what, she had nothing to lose. She was a married lady now, and fun was fun. She scooped up her chips and went off to change them. Then she took the elevator to the eighteenth floor.
* * *
They stayed in Vegas five days, at the end of which Charlie was bored stiff and couldn’t wait to get to work. Angela Carter had been signed for Roundabout and the new script was completed. They were still looking for another girl, as Sunday Simmons was unavailable. It was only a small part and presented no major problem.
Unbeknown to Charlie, Dindi had plans to grab the role for herself: a little chat with Marshall, a few hints to Charlie, and the whole thing should be a cinch.
George had chosen a house in Bel Air which he thought would meet with Charlie’s approval. It was a two-storey ranch with indoor and outdoor swimming pools, tennis courts, a guest house, and numerous bedrooms and entertaining rooms. It had been a choice between that house or a glass and steel modernistic effort up in the Hollywood Hills. George had instinctively known Dindi would prefer the modern house, so he had picked the other one.
Charlie was delighted with it. There was more than enough room to assemble all his stereo equipment, records, tapes, cameras and other toys that took his fancy. He was a great collector, getting a bug about something for months on end, then abandoning it and going on to something else. At the moment it was stereo and cars, but he was just starting a photography phase.
Dindi was impressed with the house. She had had a great time in Las Vegas, and had returned to Hollywood loaded with clothes, jewellery and a movie-star husband. What more could a girl want? She didn’t even bother to collect her things from her old apartment, just instructed the landlady by phone to find her passport and mail it on to her. Who needed old things when she could have everything new?
She opened charges everywhere, and, the first day back, went on a wild spending spree.
* * *
Clay and Natalie Allen arrived in town.
‘Why don’t we have a little dinner party, a sort of celebration?’ Charlie asked Dindi. ‘You can ask some of your friends, as many as you like. We’ll have it catered by Trader Vic’s.’ He had decided to make the most of his mistake. After all, Dindi was very young, and surely it would be a fairly simple matter to make her into the kind of girl he had thought he had married. She was bound to be willing to improve herself.
‘Yeah.’ Dindi nodded thoughtfully. Who of her so-called friends could she possibly invite? All the guys she had screwed. And as for her girlfriends – well, who needed those big mouths? The only person she could think of was Sunday Simmons.
‘Really, I don’t have many friends here,’ she said. ‘Most of my close friends and all my family are in Philadelphia.’ Dindi had never been to Philadelphia in her life, but she figured it sounded like a pretty respectable town to come from. Actually she had been born in Arizona and hadn’t been back since she zoomed out of town with a travelling salesman at the age of fifteen.
‘It doesn’t have to be a big party,’ Charlie said. He didn’t want to present his new wife to the Allens on her own; she seemed more intelligent among people. ‘We’ll make it small – just Marshall, Cy and Emerald Hamilton, Clay and Natalie and a few others.’
‘My best friend is Sunday Simmons, I’d like to invite her.’
‘Fine. Make out a list, and we’ll try and arrange it for the weekend.’
He went off to study his new script. Everything was going to work out. At least now he wouldn’t have to go running after little ding-a-lings. He could concentrate on his work, and Dindi would soon have the children arriving to keep her occupied. Maybe she and Natalie would become friends. Natalie could teach her a lot. He just had to remember she was seventeen years younger than himself and hadn’t been around. It would all work out.
Chapter Nineteen
Sunday found herself spending a lot of time with Branch. He was easy-going, and pleasant. She didn’t fancy him sexually, she thought of him as a big brother, and hoped that he regarded her with the same feelings. She hadn’t forgotten that both Dindi and Carey had said he was gay and since he hadn’t made a pass at her, she was prepared to believe he was.
He was a strange boy in many ways. He hated to talk about himself or his past, was very nervous about the outcome of his test, and dreaded the thought of having to return to New York if it was unsuccessful.
It was good for Sunday to have a male companion. With Carey, when they had gone out together at night, they had been constantly bothered by men: now, with Branch by her side she was never pestered.
Carey was most put out by the whole situation.
‘If your name has to be linked with someone, at least let it be Steve Magnum, not some little unknown schnook.’
Sunday just laughed, and she and Branch were soon regarded as an item.
Steve Magnum was unamused. It was not often he was turned down for some muscle-bound nothing. Just wait until he got Miss Sunday Simmons in Acapulco!
Branch’s test was successful. He was signed for a cowboy movie that was to start shooting in Mexico almost immediately. He was delighted.
The night before he left, Sunday took him to Dindi and Charlie’s party. She was looking forward to seeing Dindi again, and hearing about the wedding. She was also excited about meeting Charlie Brick. She was a fan, and considered him to be a brilliant comedy actor. It was a shame she hadn’t been available to do the part in Roundabout, but Carey had said it was a small part anyway, and Cash was more important.
* * *
Dindi was playing Hollywood Hostess to the hilt. Her blonde hair was joined by a long fall of ringlets cascading down her back, and she wore a full-length green chiffon dress that laced Roman-style down the front to her waist. Around her person she wore every bit of jewellery that Charlie had bought her.
‘Darling!’ she greeted Sunday, her voice high and strained. ‘How wonderful to see you.’ She flashed her diamond ring and leant forward to exchange kisses, whispering in her normal voice, ‘Thank Christ you’re here. This is the draggiest crowd ever!’
‘What a marvellous house,’ Sunday said. She looked around the huge living room, the walls covered with interesting paintings. There were about twelve people standing about drinking and talking. ‘You remember Branch Strong, don’t you?’
‘Of course.’ Dindi smiled brightly at him. ‘I read where your test was fantastic’
He looked embarrassed.
‘Come and have a drink. Sunday, you look great. When do you start the movie with Steve Magnum? I’m green with envy. I understand he’s one of the great Hollywood lays.’
Dindi hasn’t changed, Sunday thought, looking around for Charlie. She was intrigued to see what kind of man he was. Branch was dragged off by Emerald Hamilton, who trapped him in a corner.
Marshall arrived accompanied by Carey, and Sunday spent all her time chatting to them. She was surprised to see Carey, who hadn’t mentioned coming to the party.
‘It was a last-minute thing,’ Carey told her. ‘Marsh called and said he had some important things to discuss with me, so I blew out my date and came here. Business before pleasure, you know. Anyway I wanted to catch this scene.’
Sunday thought how chic and attractive she looked, her dark skin setting off the white lace dress she was wearing perfectly.
Charlie came over then. Thinner than Sunday expected. A long sad face with heavy horn-rimmed glasses. Black hair. He smiled at Sunday, a slightly crooked smile, almost boyish. His voice was very warm. She liked him at once, and wondered why h
is eyes behind the glasses were sad.
‘Dindi’s spoken a lot about you,’ he said, struck at once by her strange browny-yellow eyes and wide sensual mouth. She was far more beautiful than she had seemed in that short piece of film.
‘Has she?’ Sunday smiled.
Marshall said, ‘Charlie, you never met Carey, did you? My ex-right hand. Took a powder to make it on her own.’
‘Very wise too.’ Charlie appraised her. ‘Anyone who sets up on their own has the right idea. Especially if it means escaping from old Marsh. He must be a bastard to work for.’
Carey grinned. ‘He is.’
Charlie found his eyes wandering back to Sunday’s and she met his stare. He wondered if the gossip about her and Steve Magnum were true. Probably – most actresses were the same; just mention a part in a movie and they would sell their mother.
Sunday thought: he’s not a happy man.
‘I love your house,’ she said, to break the stare.
‘Do you? Thank you. It’s only rented, but I’m quite pleased with it.’
Dindi appeared then and pushed her arm through his. ‘Baby, the head waiter’s getting all uptight about serving dinner. You want to tell him it’s OK?’
‘All right, love.’ He gave her an absent-minded kiss and went off to organize things.
Dindi winked at Marshall. ‘It’s something, huh? Little old me finally made it. Hey, girls, would you mind if I grabbed Marshall for a private tête-a-tête?’
‘Be my guest,’ Carey said, picking up her martini and sipping it slowly.
Dindi took Marshall off.
‘Well?’ Carey said. ‘What do you think?’
‘About what?’ Sunday replied.
‘This whole scene. Do you still think it’s love at first sight?’
‘I don’t know, how can anybody know? Dindi seems happy enough.’
‘And Charlie?’
‘I don’t know Charlie.’
‘No, but he’d like to know you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know what I mean. The two of you had your own private electricity line buzzing between you.’
‘Sometimes I think you’re nuts.’ But Sunday knew exactly what she meant.
‘Hi, Carey.’ Cy came strolling over. ‘How about introducing me to your client?’
‘Sure. Sunday, this is Cy Hamilton, my favourite producer.’
‘Hello.’
‘Hello, there.’ Cy took her hand in a clammy grip and didn’t release it. His eyes probed beneath her silk jersey top, and lingered on her naked bosom.
She pulled her hand free.
‘I’m disappointed you’re not available to do Roundabout for me,’ he said, ‘but I’m sure we’ll fix something together soon.’ He glanced at Carey. ‘I think Sunday and I should have a meeting to discuss future projects. Maybe lunch on Monday?’
Sunday said, ‘Carey arranges everything for me, I just follow her advice. She’s the one you should have lunch with. Carey, Branch is trapped in a corner by some woman. Who is she?’
‘Cy’s wife.’
‘Oh!’
Cy laughed. ‘Jealous?’
‘Of course not. I just wondered who she was.’
‘And for your information your muscle-bound boyfriend is the one that has my wife trapped. You know something, you’re a snotty broad.’
With that he walked off.
‘Honestly!’ Sunday exclaimed.
‘Take no notice,’ Carey replied, ‘he’s just annoyed cos you turned down his lunch invitation. It’s not often he gets a no. He’s banged practically every actress that ever set foot on a movie of his. His wife’s a boozer and screws everything in sight. They’re a beautiful couple.’
Chapter Twenty
Natalie and Clay were suitably impressed with Charlie’s house. They were also renting, but on a more modest scale. They arrived an hour before the party was due to start, and Charlie sat with them in the study and heard all the London gossip.
He hadn’t seen Natalie since that day in his hotel, and it was to her credit that her attitude towards him was exactly the same as before. He felt relieved, and hoped that now he was married again she would just forget all about it.
‘Where’s your wife?’ she asked. ‘I can’t wait to meet her. Did Clay tell you he knows her?’
‘Knows her?’ Charlie was incredulous.
‘Only vaguely,’ Clay said quickly, shooting Natalie a glance that said, Why don’t you keep your big mouth shut? ‘I met her in Rome a year or so ago. I’m sure she won’t remember me.’
Clay was banking on the fact that Dindi would definitely prefer not to remember him. They had met at a party, and he and some Italian producer had both screwed her one after the other, while she had shrieked with laughter and said, ‘I hope this gets me the part!’
Of course Clay hadn’t told Natalie the whole story, in fact he wished he hadn’t mentioned it at all. But he had been so surprised when he had picked up his morning paper and found a large picture of Dindi and Charlie on the front page, that he had exclaimed, ‘My God! Where did he ever dig up that one?’
‘Yes, Dindi spent some time in Rome with her parents,’ Charlie said. ‘She’s finishing dressing, she’ll be down in a minute.’
‘I hope you didn’t mind my inviting Max Thorpe,’ Clay said quickly to change the subject. ‘His television show is a big hit here.’
‘Not at all,’ Charlie replied. Actually he couldn’t stand Max Thorpe, a half-assed clairvoyant palm-reader who had got lucky by foretelling a couple of world events that any fool knew were bound to happen, and had ended up with his own show from Hollywood called I Predict. Charlie knew him from his struggling days when they had both been performing in Soho. One drunken evening he had read Charlie’s palm at a party and had said a lot of things Charlie didn’t like.
‘You know it must be three years since I’ve seen Max,’ Clay remarked. ‘He told me then I’d be doing a lot of travelling.’
‘Have you seen Lorna?’ Charlie tried to sound casual, although even now it was difficult to say her name without feeling she was still his wife.
‘Yes, as a matter of fact we bumped into her at a little restaurant in Hampstead,’ Natalie said. ‘She’s absolutely huge, although she claims she’s only six months. Frankly she looks like she’s going to pop at any minute. I think they’re getting married this week.’
‘That’s nice.’ He tried to keep his voice emotionless. ‘Did she mention me?’
Natalie and Clay both spoke at once, Natalie said yes, and Clay no.
Charlie laughed nervously. ‘It’s all right, I’m immune to any of her comments now.’ He poured himself another Scotch, with a shaky hand.
‘She said she was glad you had married again so soon.’ Natalie smiled slightly, savouring the next remark. ‘She said it would serve you right marrying a girl so much younger than yourself.’
‘Why the hell did she say that?’
‘Oh, you know Lorna. Always full of cryptic remarks.’
Dindi walked in, kissed Charlie, and smiled brightly at the Allens. The smile froze on her face when she recognized Clay. Dindi had screwed, two hundred and twenty-three men, and remembered the faces – though not the names – of all of them.
Clay bridged the gap quickly, but not before Natalie had noticed the girl’s look of shock.
‘We met in Rome,’ Clay said, ‘remember? At Claudio Finca’s party. I was teasing you because you were with your mother.’
‘Oh, yes.’ Dindi’s smile unfroze. This was one smart guy. ‘Mummy’s back in Philadelphia now.’
Charlie said, ‘This is Natalie, darling. Clay and Natalie are two of my oldest friends.’
‘Now, now,’ Natalie chided gently, ‘be careful when you say oldest, I’m very sensitive. How are you, Dindi? I’ve been so looking forward to meeting you.’
The two women took stock of each other.
Natalie saw a pretty blonde girl with too much hair and too much bosom on show. S
he noted that the blue eyes were sharp and bright, and she didn’t underestimate her.
Dindi saw an attractive thin dark woman in her late twenties, very sure of herself, and very possessive of Charlie. It was possible that she might have screwed him.
‘Charlie’s talked lots about you,’ Dindi said, ‘I feel I know all about you.’
‘Oh, good,’ Natalie smiled thinly. The girl thought she and Charlie had had an affair.
‘You look lovely,’ Charlie said, patting Dindi on the bottom. ‘Isn’t she a little darling?’
‘Adorable,’ Natalie said.
‘Yes,’ Clay agreed, remembering what a little darling she had been with her pants down. It occurred to him that maybe he should have been truthful with Charlie. After all, they had been close friends for many years. But he had married the girl, so what was the point?
Later in the evening Marshall K. Marshall felt the same way. He had fixed Charlie up with Dindi in the first place. How was he supposed to know that the idiot was going to blow his mind and marry the girl? Now that he was married to her, it certainly wouldn’t be the time to tell him that she was a semi-hooker, accepting film parts instead of money – although Marshall could remember the one occasion when he paid her five hundred dollars to spend a weekend in Palm Springs with a German midget who was up for a Best Supporting Actor award. Anyway, it certainly shouldn’t take long for Charlie to see the truth.
Dindi approached him during the evening and told him she wanted the other girl’s part in Roundabout.
‘You can convince Charlie,’ she said. ‘It will be great publicity for the movie, and I know I’ll be good in it: all I need is a decent chance.’
‘Ask Charlie yourself,’ Marshall replied. ‘You got him to marry you, you shouldn’t have any problem getting in the film.’
‘Oh, Marsh it’s got to come from you. I don’t want him thinking I married him to get in his movie. Please, just give me a chance. Now I’m Mrs Brick I’m a changed girl, I really would be just right for the part.’
In spite of everything he liked Dindi, and it would be a natural publicity break to put her in the film, and she was right for the part. It was a simple role that would just require her to look pretty and sexy, and that she could certainly do.
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