The Lonely Lady

by Harold Robbins

  “No.” His voice returned to normal. “I got you another job. Just as well you’re in California.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Got you a guest shot on The Virginian. They want to see you over at Universal this afternoon. Thirty-five hundred for the week.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “They saw some of the film you did in New York last week.”

  “It’s late,” I said. “I’ll have to do the whole works. Hair. Makeup. Everything. I won’t make it. How about tomorrow?”

  “They insist on today. They called me early this morning to get you on a plane. They said they’ll wait at the studio until eight o’clock for you.”

  I was silent.

  “It’s a good shot. Universal does a lot of film. If they like you, they’ll keep you working.”

  “Okay. Who do I have to see?”

  He gave me the information and when he was finished his voice became conspiratorial again. “What do I tell Fox? By morning he’ll know you’ve been to Universal.”

  “You think of an excuse. I don’t give a damn what he tells Walter.”

  “You better. George will make it rough for you if Walter gets angry.”

  “Tell him the studio got to me before you did and that I was on my way out there.” I put down the phone and then got angry. I didn’t like being intimidated. I decided to call him back. “Is there anything wrong?” he asked as he came on the wire.

  “Yes. I don’t like being pushed. By Walter. George. You. Or anybody. And I don’t owe any of them explanations.”

  “Wait a minute! Don’t get mad at me. I’m on your side.”

  “Okay. Then tell them the truth. And if they don’t like it, they can go fuck themselves!”

  I felt better when I put down the telephone. I got dressed and was at the studio by six thirty.

  In the course of the next three hours about seven men came into the producer’s office to talk to me. At the end of that time the only thing they didn’t know was that I had a beauty mark high on my left buttock. Finally they all sat around the office in a semicircle looking at me.

  The big man whose office it was finally spoke. “I think she’ll do. What do you think, fellers?”

  There was a chorus of agreement.

  “What kind of a part is it?” I asked finally.

  “A very good part,” the big man said. “Exciting, if you know what I mean. A real acting part.”

  “Can I read it?”

  “Of course you can. We’ll give you a script first thing in the morning.”

  “I’m supposed to start work in the morning.”

  “That’s right.”

  “How am I supposed to learn my lines?”

  “You’ll have time. Your first setup isn’t until the afternoon. You can read it while you’re in Costume and Makeup.”

  “Why can’t I have it now?”

  An uncomfortable look crossed his face. “I don’t think we have the final scripts back from mimeo.”

  “I can read one of the others. At least I’d get an idea of the character I’m supposed to play.”

  “It’s a good part,” he said defensively. “Don’t you take my word for it?”

  “I take your word for it.”

  “That’s a good girl.” He got to his feet. “Now you be here at seven tomorrow morning for Costume.”

  “No.”

  His chin cropped. “What do you mean?”

  “What I said. No. I think I’m entitled to read the part to see if it is something I can and want to do before I agree to it.”

  “Of course you are, but we have an emergency here. We have to go on the floor tomorrow and it has to be settled tonight.”

  “Then get me a script. I read quickly.”

  His eyes hardened. “You’re pretty independent, aren’t you, Miss Randall?”

  “Not at all. I just feel I’m entitled to the same consideration that you demanded. You wouldn’t agree to give me the part until I came out her and gave you all a chance to look me over. Well, I’m here because I understand that. As I see it, it’s a matter of common courtesy.”

  He stared at me for a moment, then smiled and turned to the man next to him. “Okay, Dan, get her a script.

  “Okay, fellers, the meeting’s over,” the big man said.

  As they filed from the room I looked at the man behind the desk and said, “I can go outside to read if you have work to do.”

  “It’s okay.”

  I read it quickly. My instincts had been right. The part was for that of an Indian girl and I would be all wrong for it. It was one of those roles with a lot of scenes but very little dialogue. As a matter of fact I didn’t know why they even needed the girl in the script at all. She served no real purpose and it would have been better if they had left her out.

  “I don’t think so,” I said, getting to my feet.

  He stared up at me challengingly. “It’s not much of a part but you’re on camera a lot.”

  “I don’t even have black hair or black eyes.”

  “No problem,” he said. “A wig and contact lenses will take care of that.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Think of the exposure. Twenty million people will see you in one night.”

  “I wouldn’t be comfortable in the part.”

  “It’s a great opportunity. Don’t pass it up. There’s a lot of work out here. Do you know how many girls would give their ass to be standing where you are?”

  “I have an idea. And I’m willing to bet that many of them would be more right for the part than I am.”

  “But I want you. I backed myself into a corner to get you for this. I think you could give it something special.”

  “Thank you. I genuinely appreciate that.”

  “Look, it’s late. Why don’t we have a bite of dinner and talk it over?”

  “I’m sorry. I have a date.”

  “Then you won’t do it?”

  “No.”

  I placed the script on the desk in front of him. “Can I get a taxi?”

  He looked at me as if he had already forgotten that I was there. “Yes. Just ask my secretary. She’ll call one for you.”

  “Thank you. Good night.”

  He nodded silently and I left the office.

  I didn’t get back to the beach until ten o’clock. By that time everything had gone wrong.

  Chapter 12

  The A.D. who had been on the picture with us in New York answered the door. “Hello, JeriLee,” he said.

  I looked at him. In New York it had been Miss Randall. “Hello,” I said, trying but failing to remember his name. I went into the house and started down the steps to the main floor.

  “Go easy on him,” he warned. “The boss had a rough day.”

  There was something about his voice that implied that we understood each other, that we were allies.

  “Everything was a shambles. I don’t think we got two minutes of film today. Then when he came home and you weren’t here he hit the roof.”

  “What for? I left a note saying where I went.”

  “I don’t know whether he got it,” he said.

  “I’ll explain it to him.” I glanced at him. “Coming down?”

  “No. I was just on my way home.”

  “Okay. Good night.”

  John was seated on the couch with a drink in his hand. He looked up as I came into the room.

  I bent over and kissed his cheek. “Hello,” I said. “I’m sorry I’m so late.”

  “Where the hell were you?”

  “Universal. I left a note.”

  “I never got it,” he snapped. “What the hell were you doing out there?”

  “I explained it in the note. They called me for a job.”

  “Here?”

  I was becoming annoyed by his childishness. “No. They sent a carrier pigeon.”

  “Who else did you give my number to?”

  “I didn’t give your number to anybody. My
agent figured it out for himself.”

  “Then how come the whole damn world has it?” he demanded. “In the two hours I’ve been home I’ve gotten half a dozen phone calls for you. Your mother, your ex-husband, your agent twice and Universal twice.”

  “I didn’t give it to anybody,” I repeated.

  “Then how come everybody has it?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a bother.”

  “Fuck it!” He got up and went to the bar and refilled his glass. “This is all I needed.”

  I watched him take another belt of the drink without speaking. I had never seen him like this.

  “By now it will be all over town that you’re out here with me.”

  “What difference does it make? Nobody has any strings on us.”

  “On you maybe. But you forgot that I’m still married.”

  “You said you were separated.”

  “That’s not divorced. I’ve always been careful not to give my wife a chance to nail me.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you on a spot.”

  “You weren’t thinking. I told you what the score was.”

  “Sure you did. After I got here. Why didn’t you tell me in New York?” I answered without waiting for his reply. “Because you knew damn well I wouldn’t come.”

  “I didn’t expect the whole world to be calling you.”

  I stared at him for a moment. “I think you ought to call me a cab,” I said. “It would be better for both of us if I checked into a hotel.”

  Just then the telephone rang. John picked it up, then handed it to me. “For you.”

  It was Harry. “What the hell did you do out there at Universal? They’re boiling mad.”

  “I did nothing,” I said. “I just told them I never heard of a blue-eyed Indian.”

  “They want you anyway. They’re changing the part so that you’re the adopted daughter of the chief, the only survivor of a wagon train who has been brought up as his own.”

  “The part still stinks.”

  “They got the hots for you. They also promised to give you some other jobs if you do this.”

  “Sorry.”

  “What the hell’s got into you?” he shouted in exasperation. “Just a few weeks ago you were begging for a job. You said you needed the money. Now that you’ve worked two weeks, you’re suddenly nigger rich!”

  “I’m not going to do it just to satisfy some producer’s ego. They can find some other girl to run around in a torn Indian shirt with her boobs hanging out.”

  “It’s half past one in the morning here and I’m bushed,” he said. “I’m going home to bed. You think about it and I’ll call you in the morning.”

  The moment I put down the telephone it rang again. “Hello,” John barked. Then his voice changed abruptly. “How’s it goin’, Chad?”

  He listened, then glanced at me before he spoke. “You’re absolutely right, Chad, she’s quite a girl. A good little actress too.”

  I realized he was talking about me and listened to the rest of the conversation with a kind of stunned fascination. It was almost as if I were his property.

  “I don’t blame you one bit. She sounds perfect for the part… of course I’ll talk to her, but you know these New York actresses. They have their own ideas… sure, she’s right here. I’ll put her on.” He held the phone out to me.

  “Who is it?” I asked.

  “Chat Taylor.

  “Who is he?”

  “For Christ’s sake, you spent the afternoon in his office at U.I.”

  I took the telephone. “Yes?”

  “Did you talk to Harry Gregg, JeriLee?”

  When I left his office I was still Miss Randall. Apparently we were now old friends. “Yes, Mr. Taylor.”

  “Did he tell you how we solved your problem?”

  I hadn’t known it was my problem. “Yes, Mr. Taylor.”

  “It’s a hell of an idea. What do you think?”

  “I still think the part stinks, Mr. Taylor.”

  “JeriLee, what makes you so difficult?”

  “I’m not being difficult, Mr. Taylor. I just know what I can and what I can’t do.”

  “If you’ll keep an open mind about it,” he said almost pleadingly, “I’ll have a revised script for you to read in the morning.”

  Suddenly I was tired. I had enough hassling for one day. “Okay.”

  “Can you come in around eleven o’clock? I’ll send a car for you.

  “Don’t bother. I can get a cab.” I put down the telephone.

  “You ought to do it,” John said.

  “Why? Did you read it?”

  “No, but the exposure would be good for you. The public will get to know your name. Maybe that way I can get my brother to increase the size of your billing.”

  Another lesson. I was learning a lot today. Exposure is good because it helps the marketability of other products. Since there was nothing more for me to say, I turned to leave.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “To pack.”

  “Wait a minute. What’s the rush?”

  “I don’t want you to get nailed,” I said sarcastically.

  He made a deprecatory gesture. “I was just a little steamed. Debbie and I have an understanding. She doesn’t expect me to lead a virginal life.”

  “Oh, shit,” I said disgustedly.

  “God, what a bitch day I had,” he said. “Nothing went right.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “I’ll make us a couple of Margaritas and we’ll take off our shoes and relax.” He went back to the bar. “Maria’s made arroz con pollo. You never tasted anything so good in your life.”

  I still didn’t speak.

  He turned on the blender. Its soft hum buzzed through the room. “You don’t know what I went through.”

  “It’s not easy.”

  He missed the sarcasm. “We’ll have dinner and go right to bed.”

  “Will I have time for a bath first?”

  “Of course, but that’s a funny question. Why do you ask?”

  “I feel dirty,” I said.

  He didn’t understand that either.

  ***

  He came into my room about an hour after I had gone to bed. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he said.

  “You have another early call in the morning,” I said. “I thought it would be better if you got some sleep.”

  “I can’t sleep, I’m too uptight.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He came into the room and closed the door behind him. He sat down on the edge of the bed. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Just lying here. Thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “Things. Nothing special.”

  “You don’t want to talk, do you?”

  I reached for a cigarette and saw in his eyes the reflected light of the match. “Do you?” I asked.

  “You’re angry with me.”

  “No.”

  “What is it then?”

  “Things just aren’t right. It’s not going the way I thought it would.”

  “You shouldn’t have gone out. We were okay yesterday.”

  It was exactly the kind of thing Walter would say. I didn’t answer.

  “Yes, I would have had a chance to absorb it. I wouldn’t have been taken by surprise.”

  “I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong.”

  “After all, you are my guest. I brought you out here.”

  I was beginning to understand. It made some kind of sense. Not real sense. But crazy sense. It had something to do with property rights. Because he had paid the freight, I belonged to him. He was more like Walter than I had thought.

  “Do you understand what I mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” he said in a satisfied voice. He got to his feet. “Now, let’s put it all behind us and go to bed.”

  “I am in bed.”

 
; An edge of anger crept into his voice. “I don’t like to be used.”

  “I’ll leave you a check for the plane ticket before I go in the morning,” I said, thinking that I’d been more used than he.

  “Don’t bother,” he said in a cutting voice. “I’ve given more money to a whore for a one-night stand.”

  The door slammed behind him. I fought back the tears, too hurt to be angry. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair. Why did it have to be like this?

  I didn’t go to Universal in the morning. Instead I took the red eye back to New York that night.

  Chapter 13

  Harry saw me through the glass partitions that enclosed his office and rose to his feet. He shook his head. “You did it. You really did it.”

  “I thought it over,” I said. “I didn’t want the job no matter what they said.”

  “You fucked yourself. In only two days you managed to do what would take most people a lifetime to accomplish.” A curious note of wonder entered his voice. “You really fucked yourself.”

  “All I did was turn down a job. I even called the studio and left word that I wasn’t coming in.”

  “Jesus,” he said. “Universal’s putting out the word that you’re impossible to deal with and then I get a frantic call from Tony Styles that you screwed up his picture.”

  “Tony Styles? I never even saw him!”

  “He says you fucked up his brother’s head and he had to close down the picture for two days so that John could stay in bed. He says he’s going to cut your part down to nothing even if he has to shoot some of the scenes over with another girl.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “What happened between you two?”

  “We just didn’t agree, so I left.”

  “Jesus,” he repeated. He picked up a sheet of paper. “This memo got here just before you did. George wants to see me about you.”

  “If George wants to talk to me all he has to do is say so.”

  “You don’t understand. You’re not his direct responsibility anymore. You’re mine. He tells me whatever he wants to do or say and I tell you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “George doesn’t like to make waves,” he said. “George is Mr. Nice Guy with everybody—Universal, Styles, your ex, even God himself.”

  “So?”

  “So we’re in trouble. George must have picked up some of the flap and he doesn’t want anybody mad at the agency.”