* * *
Dallas left the studio at six. She consulted the scrap of paper Bobbie had scribbled her address on. It was on Santa Monica Boulevard – the massage parlour and porno shop end.
Christ! Dallas wasn’t pleased, but she had the money stacked neatly in her shoulder bag. And she had a little speech planned to lay on Bobbie. No more blackmail. If she wanted it, Dallas had decided she would pay for her to take a cure. If she didn’t want it – too bad. This thousand dollars was the last payment.
The traffic on Santa Monica was heavy. It was going home time – and everyone seemed to have decided to go home via Santa Monica.
Dallas scanned the numbers looking out for Bobbie’s address. She hadn’t bothered to call Cody to tell him she might be late, as she hadn’t realized Bobbie lived so far away.
At last she found it. A seedy walk-up apartment house sandwiched between a used army clothes shop and an ‘ORAL SEX – The Only Way’ neon-lit parlour. She hadn’t expected Bobbie to be living in the lap of luxury – but this – what a dump.
She parked the car a half block away and walked back. A drunk sat by the shabby open door. A sign read ‘Rooms by the hour’. Dallas shuddered. Suddenly she didn’t want to go in. Didn’t want to climb the narrow staircase and search for Apartment 4B which was probably only a room anyway.
The drunk reached for her leg and she stepped smartly past him and up the stairs. Rock music blared from behind a door marked 1A, a baby crying from IB. Both rooms on the second floor seemed silent. She continued up to the third floor, and jumped when the door of 3A opened and a hollow-eyed youth emerged, stared at her, and clattered off down the stairs.
She paused to catch her breath, anger creeping over her that she had allowed herself to get in this position. If only she could wipe out her past, just erase the whole lousy memory. Lew Margolis, Bobbie… Why did these people have to keep on reminding her… And who else was waiting out there to reveal her?
Wearily she reached the fourth floor. A door stood uninvitingly open. She checked the number, it was 4B.
‘Anyone around?’ she called, unwilling to enter the small darkened room.
‘Fuck off!’ screeched a woman’s voice from behind the closed door of 4A. This was followed by a man’s laughter.
Bobbie lay on the floor, naked and shivering. She had been badly beaten up. Her face looked unnatural; swollen and cracked lips, trickles of blood coming from her nose, and one eye so puffed up that you could hardly see it.
She rolled towards Dallas with a groan and an attempted smile. ‘Hey, sugar sweets,’ she mumbled, ‘y’all bring the money? I need it, man, like I really need it. They’re comin’ back, and next time they’re really gonna work me over!’
Chapter Forty-Six
Al issued instructions that complete secrecy must prevail concerning Evan’s disappearance.
But too many people knew, and items of gossip leaked out and were exaggerated.
Edna was completely hysterical and had to have a doctor in constant attendance to keep her sedated and quiet.
Upon arrival in Tucson a private detective was hired. ‘He’ll pick him up in no time,’ Paul assured Al.
‘ If you had been watching out for him this would never have fucking happened,’ spat Al, his anger hissing out in the direction of anyone who came his way. ‘Why wasn’t someone watching him? Goddammit, I’m supposed to be the singer on this tour. Am I supposed to do everything else too?’
Paul shrugged. What could he say? He returned to his suite, and Melanie, and recounted the conversation with his brother.
‘He’s right,’ agreed Melanie, peering in the mirror and applying powder blusher with a brush. ‘Poor Al, you should have been keeping an eye on Evan.’
Jesus! Paul was speechless. Linda would have comforted him, told him that of course it wasn’t his fault – which it wasn’t.
‘You always side with Al,’ he complained. ‘Maybe you should have married him.’
‘Maybe I should,’ agreed Melanie crisply. ‘I would have been much better for him than that whining hag he’s stuck with.’ She finished applying the blusher. ‘There! How do I look?’
‘Like the bitch that you are.’ He stormed out of the room. What did he need it for? A stupid, vain, nagging little bitch! Linda was right. He should face up to it and leave her. He would still be able to see his children. He would have visiting rights. But, God, they were still so young… Maybe if he could just stick it out for another couple of years.
* * *
They were in a park on the outskirts of town.
‘Move up,’ Glory giggled. ‘Shift that skinny ass an’ give me some space, man!’
Evan shifted around awkwardly in the sleeping bag. Glory shifted with him. They were both so thin that their bones crunched together.
Plum, huddled in her own sleeping bag next to them, mumbled, ‘Shut y’face. Gotta get some sleep.’
They had bought the sleeping bags as an investment against staying in hotels. As it was summer they provided adequate warmth and comfort, and during the day folded neatly into backpacks which were quite easy to carry.
Upon leaving the hotel in New Orleans they had taken a bus out of town, then left it after an hour and hitch-hiked back the way they had come. ‘Throw any snoopers off our tracks,’ Plum explained. ‘Daddy is sure to try an’ grab you back.’
Evan had no desire to be grabbed back. For the first time in his life he felt like a free person with his own identity. It didn’t occur to him that his mother would be worried sick. He knew he could look after himself, and it was about time she realized it.
‘You gotta hard-on?’ Glory was asking. ‘Little me feelin’ horny. You feelin’ horny, Evvvan?’ She was wriggling her hands down between them, feeling through his Y-fronts, pulling his very erect member out.
‘How can we do it in here?’ Evan asked, excitement flooding through him so strongly that he almost came at her touch.
‘Keep still,’ she commanded, manoeuvring him between her legs. She giggled. ‘Easy does it. Push. C’mon, man, push for shit’s sake.’
He felt himself slide inside the familiar contours of her body. She was different from Plum, more slippery and slidey.
‘Put your mouth to mine, man,’ she whispered. She had a pill in her mouth which she transferred skilfully to his. ‘Swallow it,’ she encouraged. ‘Swallow it down an’ keep on fuckin’!’
* * *
The little sod had ruined everything. Screwed every one of Al’s plans, and now he was stuck with a hysterical Edna who seemed to think that he was entirely to blame for Evan running off.
‘He split because of you,’ Al said at last. ‘You’ve always mollycoddled the crap out of him. He probably couldn’t face it any more.’
Edna shook her head in pain. ‘I trusted you with our son. I trusted you…’ She started to cry.
Al left the room. This was all he needed. Stuck with Edna. How could he be expected to work under these conditions? He needed space… He needed to drink without her complaining every time he took a swig. He needed to get laid. It was essential to have a dumb and busty blonde ready and available.
He stormed down to Paul’s suite, but there was sister-in-law Melanie in a low-cut yellow dress, thrusting tits (too small) and sympathy (too close to home) at him. He didn’t need that.
In the elevator on the way back to his suite he bumped into Nellie. Sweet dark-haired Nellie, who touched his arm and said, ‘I understand, Al. I understand.’
There was the afternoon to get through so he said, ‘You want to buy me a drink?’
Her face lit up. ‘Oh, yes.’
‘What are we waiting for? Let’s go to your room.’
He vaguely remembered another afternoon he had spent with her. But it was only a hazy memory.
He went to her room, lay on the bed while she fussed around drawing the shades, pouring him a drink, loosening his clothes.
‘I knew you’d come back,’ she whispered. ‘I was sure you’d
come back to me.’
He wasn’t really listening. His mind was going in a dozen different directions.
‘Do you want to make love?’ she was asking.
Make love. Is that what they called it?
She had taken off her dress to reveal black silken skin and small breasts with hard extended nipples. He liked more voluptuous women, but she would do.
‘You knew it was me on the plane. You did, didn’t you?’ she asked.
He didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. ‘Yeah,’ he agreed, ‘’course.’ Her long black hair fell in a sweeping curtain as he pushed her head down on him. He wanted no more than a blow job. He didn’t want to become involved with her face or body. He just wanted release.
After fifteen minutes he shoved her away. He couldn’t come.
Goddammit, Evan, you have even ruined my sex life.
‘What’s the matter?’ Nellie asked softly. ‘Am I doing something wrong?’
He rolled onto his stomach, ignoring her. He would have been better off with Sutch, big-titted Sutch whom he had never had. Or even fiery Rosa. Or better still, all three.
‘What room is Sutch in?’ he questioned.
‘Why?’ asked Nellie, blinking nervously.
‘Don’t bug me,’ snapped Al.
‘She… she’s in the room opposite.’
He climbed off the bed, zipped up his trousers.
‘Later,’ he said, and walked out.
Nellie ran to the door, watched him through the spyhole. He walked to the room across the hall, knocked. Sutch opened the door clad in a pink silk kimono. Al said something, Sutch grinned, and he walked in and closed the door.
Nellie stuffed her fist in her mouth to stop herself crying out.
All this time she had thought… imagined… but she meant nothing to him, absolutely nothing.
She walked into the bathroom and slid a razor blade out of the wall dispenser.
She sat on the side of the bath and stared at the sharp glint of fresh steel. Slowly she brought it to her wrist, and slowly she cut deeply into the taut flesh until the blood ran in a heavy river down her naked body.
* * *
‘I wondered when you’d get around to me,’ laughed Sutch. ‘Honey – I ain’t bin countin’ the days, but I sure knew the day would come!’
She poured him a hefty scotch and wrapped her kimono firmly round her, emphasizing her large, unfettered breasts.
She had what he was looking for, and he reached for them.
She slapped his hand away. ‘Say please!’ she chided, tossing her afro mane of orange hair.
‘Please,’ he said, ripping her kimono down the front, allowing her ripe and juicy body to be exposed.
She shook her boobs at him provocatively, as he had seen her shake them many times on stage – although on stage they had always been covered by flimsy strips of material.
‘Nice,’ he said.
‘Nice,’ she agreed. ‘Nice ’n yummy. Want a taste thrill, baby? Suck on a tit, I’ll roll us a joint.’
Why hadn’t he discovered Sutch before? She was more than enough to while away a boring afternoon with her plump sexy body and laid-back humour.
He followed her to the bed. Stevie Wonder was belting away on a portable tape machine. Sutch propped herself against the bed back and proceeded to roll a joint from the equipment she had on the bedside table. Al threw off his clothes and joined her.
‘My, my,’ she exclaimed. ‘Bless my little cotton socks! It’s all true – every goddamn spunky inch of it!’
‘Turn over,’ he commanded. ‘Get on all fours. We’ll have the joint later.’
‘Yeeeessireeee!’
* * *
Melanie wandered around the suite picking up things and inspecting them. Invitations, magazines, gifts from fans.
Edna sat in a chair wrapped in a dressing gown, her face white and drawn.
‘I don’t know,’ Melanie was saying, ‘I’m sure he’s all right. You know what boys are like. If he’s with those two girls… Well, they’ll look after him. He’s probably having a wonderful time.’ She spotted a mirror and leaned forward to study herself intently. ‘I look so tired!’ she wailed. ‘Fine trip this has turned out to be. All I’ve seen is the inside of an airplane and lousy hotel rooms.’ She adjusted a curl, coaxing it into place with some spit, then turned once more to Edna. ‘Why don’t we go out tonight?’ she suggested. ‘After the show. It would do you good. You could put on some make-up, and one of your new dresses. I can get Paul to book a table at the best place in town.’
‘No,’ said Edna flatly.
‘Why not?’ persisted Melanie. ‘Aren’t you bored? We’ve been stuck in this hotel for two days. I’m going out of my head, and fat chance I’ve got of getting taken anywhere without you and Al.’
‘Too bad.’
Melanie wasn’t sure she had heard Edna correctly. ‘Huh?’
‘I said too bad,’ snapped Edna. ‘I don’t care if you are bored. I don’t care, Melanie. You’re a selfish bitch. Yes – I said it – a bitch.’
‘Edna!’
‘Don’t Edna me. I wish I’d never let you talk me into this trip. If I hadn’t come here, none of this would have happened. I blame you, I really do, so don’t come whining to me because you’re bored.’
‘Thank you very much. I love you too.’
‘Just go away and leave me alone.’
‘A pleasure!’ Melanie flounced from the room, turning at the door to give a parting shot. ‘Fine thanks I get for making you look halfway decent instead of the frump you usually are.’
Edna ignored her. She didn’t care what she looked like. She just wanted Evan back.
* * *
The press were on to something. More of them than usual were at the Community Centre, milling around, getting in everyone’s way. With ‘Bad Black Alice’ being number one with a bullet, interest in Al was at its peak. The rock papers had all sent representatives in the hope of getting an exclusive interview.
Bernie had organized an informal party after the show just to keep the press happy. He hoped to persuade Al to give a mass interview – with maybe a promise of some exclusives for the more important papers the next day.
A thin girl from Rolling Stone kept on cornering him. ‘Word’s out Al’s son’s been abducted. True or false?’ she asked.
‘False,’ sweated Bernie. ‘Where did you hear that?’
‘Word’s around.’
Yeah. Fucking word would be around. All they needed was the rumour to make the papers to put the idea into those two freaks’ heads that they could get money for returning little Evan safe and sound.
The crowds were packing in. Al arrived in the company of Sutch. The photographers leapt forward.
What the fuck was he doing with that one? Bernie groaned. Out of the three Promises she was the wild one. Her husband was in jail on a drug bust, and she never set foot on stage unless she was out of her head on coke. The other two were angels in comparison to Sutch. Rosa, the lead singer, stuck with her mafioso boyfriend and kept to herself. Nellie was just a sweet little girl whom everyone loved.
Al strode into his dressing-room, swigged from the bottle of Jack Daniels set out and waiting for him.
‘Any news?’ he asked Bernie.
‘Paul’s on the phone now.’
‘Security good?’
‘The best.’
‘It better be. One more fuckup and I walk.’
Bernie scratched absently under an armpit. ‘If you could make a press conference tonight – after the show. I set up a party. Booze. Food. I think you should do it.’
‘If I feel like it,’ allowed Al.
If he felt like it. Who the fuck did he think he was all of a sudden? You never played superstar with the press if you wanted to stay up there. You kissed ass and sucked cock – metaphorically speaking, of course – although certain stars were not averse to doing the real thing if it kept their name in lights.
Rosa appeared
at the door of the dressing-room. She ignored Al as she always did except when on stage.
‘Where’s Nellie?’ she directed at Bernie.
‘I don’t know. Where is she?’
‘I’m asking you. Didn’t a car go to fetch her?’ Rosa had taken to staying at different hotels on the tour and making her own travel arrangements. Her ‘boyfriend’ preferred it that way.
‘Yeah, of course. Didn’t she arrive with Sutch…?’ Bernie trailed off, remembering that Sutch had arrived with Al.
Rosa twitched her head angrily. ‘Find her, Bernie, we go on in twenty minutes. She’s probably sittin’ in the hotel waitin’ for Sutch.’
‘I’ll call the hotel. No panic.’
‘Sure, man, no panic. Only we don’t go on unless there’s three of us.’ She swept off.
Al had started to apply his make-up. Dark pancake base. Slight kohl emphasis on the eyes. He swigged continually from the liquor bottle.
Suddenly Bernie got that feeling. It slipped in under his gut, a nagging ache that warned him of trouble. Sweet shit… What the fuck… They’d soon be in LA. Couldn’t be soon enough for him.
* * *
Two days on the road and already Evan was feeling tired. Of course he was enjoying it, having a wonderful time. But didn’t either Plum or Glory ever think of taking a bath? And greasy hot dogs washed down with Coca Cola did not seem to be a very balanced diet. And when they were hitching, the two girls seemed prepared to climb into anything that stopped. What if a maniac stopped? A maniac all set to rape and murder all three of them. He had read dreadful things about what happened to hitch-hikers.
His arm still hurt. His bruises still hurt. And the novelty of being squashed in a sleeping bag alongside Glory was wearing off. She snored, and she never washed, and she was always stoned.
Also he noticed in panic in the mirror in a men’s room that his spots were getting worse. Soon his face would be one large red patch.
‘Why don’t we stay in a hotel tonight?’ he suggested.
‘Come on,’ laughed Plum. ‘Are you serious, man?’
Lovers and Gamblers Page 36