Later, as they dressed, Linda asked, ‘Can I tell people?’
‘Tell them what?’
‘About the job?’
‘Not yet. Let me cue Al in first. And I’ve got to break it to B.S. – you know what he’s like, he may struggle a bit.’ B.S., better known as Bernie Suntan – was Al’s American publicity man – the best, but somewhat nervous and temperamental. He might object. Then again he might be delighted with the idea. Whatever he thought it was tough shit. Only Al could influence Paul’s decisions.
The reasons that Paul and Al were in New York was because of the Al King Supertour. A spectacular odyssey across America. There were a few minor details to sort out – things that Paul could have really taken care of on the phone – but he had wanted to make the trip if only to be with Linda. Al had decided to come along at the last moment. Fresh out of the health farm he was ready for some action.
The tour was immensely important. In the last year Al’s record sales had been slipping. Nothing desperate, just a slow, hardly noticeable slide. But Paul had noticed, and coupled with the fact that Al’s last two singles had failed to make the top of the charts, he realized that it was time to bring Al back in front of the people. Too much time in television and recording studios created a vacuum between a star and his public. On stage Al was pure dynamite.
The trip was meticulously planned. Al would travel in his own lavishly equipped plane – that way all travel hassles would be taken care of.
So far Al had made no mention of bringing his wife, and Paul was sure that the matter would not come up. Paul was relieved because it gave him a beautiful excuse with his own wife. If Edna wasn’t allowed on the trip, then Melanie certainly wasn’t. Not that Paul would compare the two women. Edna was a doormat and Al treated her as such. Melanie was a sharp lady, which was why Paul had to play it very carefully with Linda. If Melanie got a whiff that he was serious about anybody – well… He didn’t like to think about it.
He had been married to Melanie for ten years – since she was eighteen – and they had two young children. Melanie was an ex-dancer. She was very pretty, but oh what a bitch! And a nag. And somewhere in the back of his mind Paul knew for sure that she had slept with Al. He had no proof, knew nothing for certain, but he just had a feeling…
Linda was dressed and ready to leave. ‘Later?’ she asked.
‘As soon as I’m free.’
‘Come to the apartment. I’ll cook dinner.’
‘We may have to go out with Al. I don’t know what he’s got in mind but I can’t leave him alone.’
Linda laughed sarcastically. ‘The great Al King alone – never!’
‘Watch it, you’ll be working for him soon.’
‘I don’t understand it,’ Linda mused. ‘You’re better looking, taller, and a whole year younger. Why aren’t you the superstar?’
‘Because I can’t sing, and whatever you may think about Al he’s got a bitch of a voice. Besides, I like being the manager, it means I score the best birds.’
‘Oh, really?’
‘Oh, really, yes. I got you, didn’t I?’
‘Yeah, you got me hooked like some stupid fish. There I was, looking for a stable relationship, and I get some dumb married man who spends his life wetnursing superschmuck!’
‘You’ve got a big mouth, but I love you.’
‘That’s why you love me.’ She glanced quickly at her watch. ‘Hey – you’re going to be late – better move it.’
‘I’ll call you later.’
‘Fine. I’m photographing the “Miss Coast to Coast” competition tonight. It shouldn’t take long. I’ll call you.’
‘Can’t you cancel it?’
‘No way, I need the bread.’
She left, and Paul finished dressing in a hurry. Out to the elevator, up two floors, and then he was knocking on the door to Al’s suite. A waiter let him in.
‘Where the fuck have you been?’ Al asked rudely. ‘I ordered you a steak sandwich, you took so fucking long I ate it.’
‘I’m not hungry. What happened to your companions?’
‘Jesus! Dogs! Horrible. I had them out of here in double time.’
‘I warned you.’
‘How would you have known? In the lobby they looked like two real little darlings. I’ll tell you what, though. I saw one I really fancy.’
How many times had Paul heard that. Growing up together had been a chequered path of fame, fortune, and women. Al had always fancied anything that moved and was female.
‘Who is she?’ enquired Paul. ‘And where did you find her?’
‘You’re going to find her,’ corrected Al. ‘I don’t know her name. I spotted her on television – there’s some beauty competition tonight – she’s in it.’
‘Miss Coast to Coast?’
‘Yeah, that’s right. How did you know?’
‘I’m a detective on the side. Only how do we find the girl if you don’t even know her name?’
‘Miss Los Angeles.’
‘Dinner tonight. It’s as good as done.’
Chapter Two
Dallas licked already shiny lips. She stared at herself in the full-length mirror and adjusted the Miss Los Angeles sash. She wished that she could take it off, it ruined the whole effect of the leopard-skin bikini.
Later in the evening, when she won, she would have to put on the stupid crown and cover herself with the fake ermine cloak. What a drag!
Dallas knew she would win. She had taken steps to make certain she would.
‘You wearing a hair-piece?’ Miss Long Island asked bitchily, craning to see herself in the mirror.
‘Yeah,’ agreed Dallas, ‘around the crotch!’
Miss Long Island retreated angrily.
Dallas peered at herself once more in the mirror. She did look her absolute best. She deserved to win. There really was no contest. Still, it was just as well that she had taken out insurance.
‘The judges are being introduced!’ someone shouted with excitement, and the girls in the dressing-room crowded round the closed circuit television set in the corner.
A smile hovered round Dallas’s mouth. Five judges, and she had taken care of three of them. On those odds she could afford to feel secure.
‘First, the ladies,’ the announcer on television said, ‘and I would like to hear a big round of applause for that wonderful screen star, Miss April Crawford.’ April Crawford appeared, swathed in mink.
‘Now, someone we are always reading about – leader of fashion and fun, Lucy Mabel Mann.’
‘Isn’t she pretty!’ one of the girls exclaimed.
Yes, agreed Dallas silently. And I should know, for it was only this morning that I visited her in her Central Park West duplex and gave her the greatest head job she has ever had!
‘Now let’s hear it for Ramo Kaliffe, the man with the million-dollar eyes.’
Hello, Ramo, thought Dallas. I took care of you last night, and you were more than grateful.
‘Petro Lorenz, writer and television personality. And lastly, Ed Kurlnik, of Kurlnik Motors fame.’
Ed gave that short, embarrassed smile that Dallas had grown to know so well over the last few months. She had been taking care of Ed for exactly sixteen weeks. Twice a week, Mondays and Fridays. It was no secret that he was a married man.
The girls were being summoned together and hustled out the door. The parade was about to begin.
Dallas shook out her mane of hair and strode confidently onto the stage.
* * *
Dallas Lunde, born twenty years previously at a small zoo her parents had off the main highway outside Miami. An uneventful childhood, no brothers or sisters, but plenty of animals to play with. Her parents didn’t believe in school, so they never bothered to send her.
Sometimes, when he had the time, her father would tutor her in various subjects. He was particularly fond of geography and real life adventure.
The three of them lived a very tight life; her parents had no friends.
They were some kind of religious maniacs – following a cult all their own – which made them reject any contact with the outside world. The animals they looked after were their whole life.
Dallas grew up alone. The zoo was off the beaten track, and the only other people she ever saw were the two-dollar-a-day visitors. Once a month her father went into town for supplies, and it wasn’t until Dallas was sixteen that he took her with him. She would always remember that day. The shops, the people, the cars and the noise. Along with the supplies her father collected a young man called Phil, who was to come and help out at the zoo. Unbeknown to Dallas he had also been picked out as a husband for her. She was given no choice. On her seventeenth birthday she and Phil were married.
At the time it didn’t occur to her to object. Her parents’ words were law; she had never argued. She knew nothing of the world outside. She had never even seen television or movies. The only books she had ever read were about animals and wildlife.
Phil was tall and nice-looking. He spoke softly. It was a shock when that evening he threw off her nightgown and violently deflowered her. The only sexual education she had received had been from observing the animals, but even they behaved with more gentleness than the man who was her husband.
Night after night Phil demanded his rights. He never kissed or caressed her, merely lifted her nightdress and thrust himself in. Dallas accepted this. She worked hard during the day, and at night she cooked and cleaned and suffered her husband’s attentions, because this was the way she thought things were. When her mother became ill, her father decided they needed more help at the zoo, so he employed a young black couple named Burt and Ida Keyes. Dallas liked them immediately, they were always laughing and giggling, and they seemed so fond of each other. She couldn’t help watching them. She noticed the way they kept on touching each other, and the secret smiley little looks they exchanged.
After several weeks she plucked up the courage to discuss this with Ida. ‘You and Burt are always feeling each other; kissing, things like that. Do you like it when he does… well… you know ?’
‘Like it!’ Ida make a sucking sound of enjoyment. ‘I just couldn’t live without it!’
Dallas studied Burt with new eyes. What made him so different from Phil? It couldn’t only be his black skin. It wasn’t long before she had the chance to find out. They were alone together one day cleaning out one of the cages, when Burt reached out and lazily pushed the hair off her forehead. Then he cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her long and hard. The feel of his tongue exploring her mouth created a vacuum of excitement in Dallas that she had never known before.
He undid the buttons on her blouse, and exposed her breasts. All the time he was whispering endearments.
Dallas could not have moved even if she had wanted to. She was powerless, thrilled, on the brink of a fantastic new discovery.
Burt bent his head to her breasts, and she leaned back, hoping the moment would last forever. Then she saw the blood as it fell on her breasts from the cut above Burt’s eye. She heard the cursing as Phil lifted the stick to strike once more. She felt the shame sweep over her in a great wave.
She jumped up, covering herself. Oh God, how could she ever face her friend Ida again?
She ran back to the house and collected a few belongings, then she took twenty dollars from the dresser and fled.
She had no idea where she was going, she just ran.
On the highway she thumbed a ride, and it was only when she was settled in the front seat of the Ford car that she stopped to think.
‘Where to, sweetie?’ inquired the florid driver of the car, and he reached over and patted her on the knee.
* * *
‘Miss Los Angeles. A beautiful young lady of twenty whose vital statistics come out at a staggering 39-22-36. Dallas by name, a model, whose life ambition is to marry a fellow American – because – and I quote the lady herself – American men are so big and strong and handsome. Wowee, folks, that’s some compliment.’
Dallas paraded across the stage. The spotlight felt hot on her almost naked body. Stomach in. Bosom out. Head high. Fixed smile. Walk tall.
She glanced briefly at the judges. Ed was regarding her like a proud father, and well he might. What was that sweet old-fashioned phrase? Sugar daddy. Yeah – that’s what he was, her sugar daddy.
She had met him in Los Angeles, and he had transported her to New York and set her up in a very nice apartment. When she had heard he was to be a judge on ‘Miss Coast to Coast’ she had asked him to pull a few strings. He had done so, flown her to Los Angeles where she won the local contest, and now here she was. With connections it was as easy as that.
Ed Kurlnik could pull a lot of strings if he so cared. He was an important man, head of the Kurlnik Motor dynasty – a vast corporation almost as large as the Ford empire.
Dallas turned and flashed a smile at the television camera. Ed was most impressed at the fact that she was only twenty. He was sixty-one and looked it. Money could buy most things, but it couldn’t turn back the clock. Having a young girlfriend made him feel virile and alive.
‘Honey-blond hair, green eyes, five foot seven inches of beautiful woman. Let’s hear it for Miss Los Angeles – the lovely Dallas.’
She turned and smiled one last time, then she was off the stage and running back to the dressing-room.
She unhooked the top of her bikini, stepped out of the tiny pants. Then, totally naked, she inched her way into a long green tube of a jersey dress. Nine hundred dollars’ worth, Ed had bought it for her. It fitted like a second skin, skimming her hips, clinging round her breasts, plunging back and front. She fluffed out her hair, licked her lips. She was ready.
She watched the other contestants on the closed circuit television. Some were pretty, some cute, but none could hold a candle.
‘You sure think you’re hot shit!’ Miss Long Island hissed.
‘Served your way. Right up the ass!’ replied Dallas calmly. They were all jealous of her and well they might be. She was going to win. Of that there was no doubt.
* * *
The man in the car had taken her to a motel. She was grateful to him, she had nowhere else to go.
He was about her father’s age. He wore a brightly patterned sports shirt, and baggy beige trousers.
‘Say, girly, what ya gonna do to make an old man happy?’ he asked.
Dallas sat quietly on the corner of the double bed. What was she going to do?
‘Make yourself comfortable,’ the man suggested, ‘and I’ll go and get us some beers.’
Dallas sat unmoving. She didn’t know what to do. If she hadn’t met this kind man she would still be out on the highway thumbing a lift. She had made the move, she couldn’t go back. Phil would kill her. Her parents would never talk to her again, and as for Ida…
The man returned, carrying a plastic bag from which he produced a six-pack of beer and a box of Ritz crackers. ‘We’ll have ourselves our own little party.’ He switched on the television and drew the curtains. Then he snapped open a can of beer and handed it to her. He was sweating a lot, small rivulets running down his face.
Dallas sipped from the can. She had never tasted beer before. Her eyes were glued to the television set. So much going on. So many new experiences.
‘You gonna get undressed?’ the man inquired, licking his lips and sticking a fat fist into the Ritz crackers.
‘Why?’ asked Dallas carefully, not at all sure what it was he wanted from her.
‘Ha!’ exclaimed the man, ‘I’ll take care of you, girly, don’t worry on that score.’ He unzipped his trousers and struggled out of them. He had sunburned thighs and underpants that matched his shirt. ‘Come on, girly,’ he insisted. ‘Let’s go.’
So this was the price of a bed. Dallas sighed. She knew what he wanted now. Well, it couldn’t be any worse than it was with Phil.
She felt nervous and unsure. But if it meant a bed for the night…
She had no money, no choice. Th
e only alternative was returning home, and she couldn’t do that. This man would look after her, he was a fatherly type, he had behaved kindly.
She stood up and removed her jeans, and the man moved forward and took off her pants. Then, sweating more than ever, he removed his own pants, and pushed her back on the bed. He was struggling with a rubber thing, fitting it over his penis.
Dallas closed her eyes, bit down on her lip and counted silently. With Phil she never got as far as fifty, with this man it only took to fifteen, and then he was grunting and heaving, and it was over. He hadn’t been as rough as Phil. It was almost painless.
‘You’re a little beauty!’ exclaimed the man. ‘You been at it long?’
‘Oh,’ said Dallas vaguely, ‘I guess so.’ She went to the bathroom and put her pants and jeans back on. She stared blankly at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were tear-filled, but she couldn’t cry, nobody was forcing her to do anything. Quietly she went back into the bedroom and settled on the bed in front of the television.
Half naked, the man was asleep, his snores hardly disturbing her.
In the morning she awoke with a start. She had fallen asleep in front of the television still in her clothes. She looked around for the man, but he was gone. On the bedside table there was a note and a twenty-dollar bill. The note read – ‘Vacate room by twelve, all paid for. Thank you.’
Where was he? Why had he deserted her? Maybe she hadn’t pleased him. Why had he left twenty dollars? Did he know she had no money?
Puzzled, Dallas ate the rest of the Ritz crackers while watching television. Then, at twelve o’clock, she was back on the highway.
* * *
There were six finalists. Nervously they huddled together backstage waiting for the results.
Dallas stood slightly apart, aware of the fact that a television camera was trained on them to catch every nuance of disappointment. She tried not to look too confident. She smiled slightly and parted her lips appealingly. Let all the guys in the audience drool. She knew she looked great. She knew she was a winner.
They were announcing the three winners now.
Lovers and Gamblers Page 2