Goodbye, Janette

by Harold Robbins

  “Now you’re being stupid,” Janette said.

  “Can I stay the night?” Stéphane asked. “I want to make love to you.”

  Janette began to get angry. “No,” she said shortly. “I told you that before she came. While she is here we play it straight.”

  “But she’s going to be here all summer,” Stéphane said. “What are we going to do?”

  “We’ll work something out,” Janette said. “She hasn’t even spent one night here.”

  “Is she beautiful?” Stéphane asked.

  “Yes,” Janette said. “But she’s still just a kid.”

  “So was I when I began with my sister.”

  “If you’re going to continue acting like an idiot,” Janette snapped, “you don’t have to come to dinner.”

  “I love you,” Stéphane said. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be with you.”

  “Then relax. Everything will work out,” Janette said. She had a thought. “I’m going to seat you next to Charles Carroll. Be extra nice to him. I’m trying to work something important out with him.”

  “Do you want me to fuck with him?” Stéphane asked.

  “If he wants to. Yes.”

  “I’ll do it. But only for you,” Stéphane said. “Just to prove how much I love you.”

  “That’s better,” Janette said. “You’re still my girl.”

  “I’ll always be your girl,” Stéphane said.

  ***

  Lauren was standing in front of the mirror trying to smooth the shirt front down over her breasts so that it did not keep rising out of the trousers, when Janette came into the room, still in her robe. “I thought I’d see if you needed any help.”

  Lauren looked at her, smiling ruefully. “I don’t think it will work. My breasts are too big.”

  “What you need is a brassiere to hold you in,” Janette said.

  “I don’t have any,” Lauren answered. “I never wore one.”

  “Maybe one of mine will help,” Janette said. “Come.”

  Lauren followed her back to her room. Janette went into the closet and opened one of the drawers. Quickly she rummaged through several brassieres, finally coming up with the one she sought. She turned to her sister. “Take off your shirt and try this.”

  Quickly Lauren slipped off the shirt. Janette held the brassiere cups against Lauren’s breasts. “It might work. Put it on.”

  Laurent put her arms through the straps and fastened the brassiere. She looked in the mirror. “I can hardly breathe.”

  “It really looks sensational on you,” Janette said.

  “Really think so?” Laurent asked doubtfully.

  Janette laughed. “Wear it. We’ll make a hell of a team.”

  Lauren looked at herself again for a moment and then smiled. “Okay, but do we still have enough time for a smoke?”

  “It will be a half hour before anyone gets here,” Janette answered.

  “Let’s go then,” Lauren said, starting back to her room.

  “Why don’t you bring the joint back in here,” Janette said. “That way, we can enjoy it while I’m making up.”

  By the time Lauren rolled the joint and came back to the room, Janette was seated before the makeup table, her robe falling on the chair around her, carefully applying mascara to her lashes. Lauren took a small chair and sat near her and lit the joint. She puffed at it gently, then passed it to Janette. “Take tiny puffs. This is not the kind of dope you do big tokes with.”

  Janette did as she was instructed. After a few puffs she handed it back to Lauren. “I don’t feel anything yet.”

  “Give it time.” Lauren smiled, smoking again. “It takes a few minutes for it to work.”

  “How do you know it’s working?” Janette asked.

  Lauren giggled. “I can always tell by my nipples. They pop out and get hard like if someone is touching them, or you step into an ice-cold shower.” She laughed again, looking at Janette. “It’s beginning to work on you. I can see it already.”

  Janette glanced down at herself, then at Lauren. “But I still don’t feel anything. Is it working on you?”

  Lauren nodded, opening her robe. “See for yourself.” The nipples of her breasts were already rising from the pale-pink areolae around them. She passed the cigarette back to Janette. “Soon you’ll get a buzz on that you can feel in your head. Then that will go away and you’ll just feel good. Real good.”

  Janette puffed slowly on the cigarette. She glanced down at herself. Her dark nipples were already jutting from her breasts. She looked at Lauren and laughed. “I guess it is working.”

  Lauren looked at her. “It sure is,” she said. “God, you got great nipples. Mine are like nothing compared to them.”

  “Yours are pretty,” Janette said. She laughed, beginning to feel the buzz in her head. “I prefer your kind to mine. They’re more esthetic.”

  “But yours are sexier,” Lauren said, taking the joint back from Janette. “Harvey thinks you have one of the great bodies of all time.”

  “Your boyfriend?” Janette laughed. “How would he know?”

  “He’s seen pictures of you,” Lauren said. “I think that’s why he wanted to come over.”

  “He’ll be disappointed if he does come,” Janette said. “The photographs make me look better than I really do.”

  “I don’t think so,” Lauren said. “I don’t think they do you justice.” She passed the joint back to Janette and got to her feet. “I feel good.”

  Janette puffed on the joint. “I do too. It’s very nice.”

  Lauren laughed. “Nice? It’s great. I’m all set now. I can just fly over everything.”

  Janette laughed. “Just don’t fly over the table at dinner. I’d have a hard job explaining to everybody what you’re doing up there.”

  “I’ll go back to my room and dress,” Lauren said. “Call me when you’re ready and we’ll have a quick toot before we go downstairs.”

  ***

  Maurice was early. He made it a point to explain as he entered the library where they were waiting. “I thought it only proper that I have a moment with mes enfants, before the others got here.”

  Janette smiled. “Of course. And what do you think of the little girl now?”

  Maurice turned to Lauren, a careful, observant look on his face. “She’s not such a little girl now, is she? She’s quite grown up. And beautiful.”

  Lauren laughed. “Merci, Monsieur le Marquis.”

  “Really,” Maurice said. “I’m quite pleased to see you. And if there is anything I can do for you, I want you to call me.”

  “If there is anything, I will,” Lauren said.

  Maurice shook his head. “I still think of you as a little girl. But you have changed.”

  Lauren laughed again. “You haven’t changed. You look exactly as I remembered. Not one day older.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it?” Maurice asked.

  She nodded. “Fantastic. Everyone got older except you.”

  “I grew older too,” he said. “But at my age the changes are neither as drastic or visible. And your foster parents? They are well?”

  “Very well, thank you,” Lauren said.

  Maurice turned to Janette. “I have heard that you’re going to do your whole collection over, that you’ve changed the date until later.”

  Janette nodded. “You must have spies in the woodwork. We just decided this afternoon. We have a fantastic idea and thought this would be the right time for it rather than wait until next year.”

  “It will be expensive,” he said. “I have some extra money lying about if you should need it.”

  “I think we’ll manage,” Janette said. “But I’ll bear it in mind just in case. Thank you.”

  Maurice smiled. “Don’t thank me. After all it’s family. And that’s what families are for.”

  The faint sound of the doorbell came into the library. The other guests began to arrive, and by the time Patrick Reardon came from the airport, they
were ready for dinner.

  The dinner was perfect for a hot July night. The cold vichyssoise with a hint of cucumber, the delicate roast veal with the light-brown sauce tasting of Provence herbs and finely cut haricots verts with tiny roast potatoes, followed by a chilled lettuce salad and a perfectly ripened Brie. Still, Janette rose with a feeling of relief that it was over and led everyone back into the library for coffee and liqueurs. The table had been charged with too many tensions and nuances as all the guests seemed intent on playing games of their own. Everyone except Lauren. She had been bright and smiling, and none of the things that Janette had felt seemed to touch her.

  Stéphane dropped behind to catch Janette in a moment alone. “Your sister is very beautiful. Everyone is very taken with her.”

  “I’m glad,” Janette answered.

  “I think you are too,” Stéphane said.

  Janette looked at her. “You are an idiot.”

  Stéphane touched her arm. “Can’t we go upstairs for a moment? No one will miss us.”

  Janette looked at her without answering, then abruptly walked away to join Maurice and Jacques, who were talking with Jacques’ date, Martine, a pretty mannequin who worked at Givenchy.

  Stéphane joined Carroll, who was listening along with Philippe and Marlon to Patrick telling of his adventures on his latest African safari. She glanced around the room thinking that Lauren would be with Janette but Lauren was nowhere to be seen.

  The butler served the coffee and the liqueurs, and still Lauren had not reappeared. It was not until more than ten minutes later that she came into the room, and by that time Patrick had captured everyone’s attention with the story of his lion hunt.

  “There I was out in the bush sitting in the Land Rover when I felt this tap on my shoulder and the white hunter sticks the big elephant rifle in my hands and points.

  “‘Line the beast up in your sights and squeeze the trigger,’ he says.

  “The lion and I stared at each other for what seemed like ages.

  “‘Shoot the fucking beast!’ the white hunter shouts. ‘Before the fucker comes after us!’

  “I try to squeeze the trigger. But my finger can’t move. It’s paralyzed, and then my arm begins to shake and I can’t even keep the bugger in the sights. It was right at that moment the bloody animal decided to make a run for us.”

  Patrick paused and held out his glass to be refilled with champagne. “Then what did you do?” Lauren asked in a breathless voice.

  Patrick fixed her with a haughty glare. “What any sensible Englishman would do in a moment of danger. I ducked down between the seat and the dash and hollered to the nigger to get the fucking car out of there. Just as he started the car, the beast leaped at us. At that moment my finger caught in the trigger and the gun went off. I heard a terrible roar and stuck my head up. There was the lion rolling around on the ground, then he got up and ran off into the bush, blood dripping from the tail between his legs.” He paused for a moment and sipped from his champagne. “‘You shot his bloody balls off,’ the white hunter said. Right now, somewhere in Africa, there’s a bloody lion, wondering what the hell happened to his sex life and wandering around the jungle trying to figure out why he would rather lie sleeping in the sun than be out hunting or fucking.”

  Everyone began to laugh except Lauren. Her eyes were shining moistly. “I think that’s so sad.”

  Patrick looked at her for a moment. “Let me get you a glass of champagne.”

  The others broke into small conversational clusters. “No, thank you. I don’t drink, I just dope,” Lauren said.

  “You’re stoned, young lady,” Patrick said with mock sternness.

  “Yes,” she answered.

  “I’m drunk,” he said.

  “That’s nice,” she said, smiling.

  “Come out onto the balcony over the garden,” he said. “Maybe a bit of air will do us both good.”

  “Okay.” She followed him through the open doors and leaned her arms on the railing. She took a deep breath. “It smells good out here. Sweet and clean.”

  He took a sip of the champagne he still held in his hand. “First time in Paris?”

  “I was born here,” she answered. “But I haven’t been back for ten years. I live in California.”

  “I love California,” he said. “Everything is so easy there.”

  “It’s very laid back,” she said.

  “What do you think about us here?”

  She shrugged. “It’s different. Everything and everybody is very involved, very into themselves if you know what I mean.”

  “I’m not sure that I do,” he said.

  “I’m not sure that I do either.”

  “Do you have panties on?” he asked.

  “No,” she answered, looking at him. “Why do you ask?”

  “I wondered if Janette talked you into wearing a smoking?”

  “No. Why?”

  “It doesn’t help. I can still smell your quim,” he said. “Makes me want to put my face in it.”

  She laughed. “You’re putting me on.”

  “No. I’m not,” he said quickly. “You have to realize that I have a trained nose for that sort of thing. Are you into big pricks?”

  “Now where did that come from?”

  “I was curious,” he said. “I think if I had a big prick Janette would have married me.”

  “Do you want to marry her?”

  “Yes,” he said. “But she keeps turning me down.”

  “It has to be something else then,” she said thoughtfully. “I don’t think the size of your prick is the reason.”

  “Your sister is the most beautiful and exciting woman in the world,” he said.

  She turned and looked back into the room at Janette, who was talking earnestly with Jacques and Charles Carroll. Janette’s face was alive and expressive as she seemed to be making a point. Lauren turned back and looked up into Patrick’s face. “You’re the second man I know who has said that,” she said. “I think you both may be right.”

  Marlon joined them on the balcony, followed by Philippe and Stéphane. “Philippe wanted me to ask you if you’d consider becoming a mannequin,” Marlon said.

  “Why didn’t he ask me himself?” Lauren asked.

  “He’s a little embarrassed because his English is not good enough.”

  She smiled, turning to Philippe, speaking in French. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I never thought that everyone was speaking English just for my benefit.”

  A sudden smile crossed Philippe’s face. “I wanted to speak with you all evening but I was afraid that you would not understand me. I wanted to tell you how beautiful I think you are and how perfect you would be in some of my creations. You have the kind of look I have been searching for for a very long time. New, fresh, with a sophisticated innocence. I would love for you to model with some of my creations at the collection.”

  “I don’t know anything about modeling,” she answered. “But I am very flattered that you should think so.”

  “There is not much to learn,” Philippe said. “In one week you would know everything.”

  “But am I not too large?” she asked.

  “It’s no problem,” he said. “You would only have to lose two, maybe three kilos.”

  “Between four and six pounds,” Marlon said.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I just never thought about it.”

  “Do you think your sister would object?” Philippe asked.

  Lauren laughed. “I can’t see any reason why.”

  “May I ask her?”

  “If you like,” she answered. “But I don’t know if it’s something I would want to do.”

  “What is it you would like to do?” Stéphane asked.

  Lauren turned to her. “I haven’t really given it much thought. I’ve been waiting to grow up first.”

  ***

  “It will be a full year before we’re even ready to get into the market. I want ten owned and
operated boutiques in the principal money areas of the State and five in the major department stores of the country. Saks Fifth Avenue, New York, Neiman-Marcus, Texas, Marshall Field, Chicago, I. Magnin, Los Angeles, Geary’s, San Francisco. By that time I’m in for two million dollars. You’re setting me up for a hell of a risk.”

  Janette looked at him. “If you press, I’m sure the department stores would go along with you this season.”

  “They’d take our ass,” Carroll said. “They’d want everything on consignment, load all the advertising and promotion costs on us and demand the maximum discount on the clothing.” He took a pull at his scotch. “We’d never make a penny.”

  “But we’d have a springboard to get into the market and find out exactly where we stand,” Janette said.

  “And what would we call our own boutiques when we do open them?” he asked. “Your name is not well enough known yet.”

  “I have a name for the boutiques,” Janette said. “Like St. Laurent’s Rive Bauche. Janette’s Centre Ville, or if you think more American is better, Janette’s Uptown. But that is secondary. Once we commit, I am ready to tour the country, do all the publicity, newspapers, radio, television, and by the time the stores are open there will be more Americans that know my name than there are French.”

  “It will all cost money,” Carroll said.

  “That’s right,” Janette answered. “That’s exactly why I’m talking with you. If I had the money I would do it myself.”

  Carroll looked at her shrewdly. “How much would it cost to get this collection ready?”

  “Maybe two hundred thousand dollars. More or less.”

  “Supposing I advance you that money and we see what happens. Then we can make up our minds.”

  Janette laughed. “I can do this collection myself in that case. It is not that money I’m concerned about. It’s the plan beyond that interests me. If I do it myself and it’s a grand success, I don’t need you. Bidermann as well as others would be glad to jump into bed with me.”

  He took a deep breath and looked at Jacques. “That’s a very tough lady you work for.”

  Jacques was silent.

  “And if I don’t agree?” he asked, turning back to Janette.