As JeriLee came into the office he got to his feet, a genuine smile on his face. She was one of his few working clients. “No calls while I’m talking with Miss Randolph,” he told his secretary.
“We’ve got a lot of work to do,” he said importantly.
JeriLee nodded without speaking.
“Ansbach tells me that the film on you is sensational. I got him to promise me some clips so that we can have something to show around before the picture comes out. The idea is to lock up a few more jobs and build some continuity for you as a performer.” He stopped suddenly and stared at her. “Was that a blond wig you wore in the picture?”
She nodded.
“I saw some stills. You should wear it all the time. Helps build the image.”
“It was all right for the part. But it’s not me,” she said.
“Doesn’t matter. That’s what the producers want. Gives you a raunchy look.”
“A hard look you mean.”
“A matter of opinion. I call it the ‘I.F.’ look.”
“What’s that?”
“Instant Fuck. Jumps right out of the pictures.”
“I’m a little too old to go the sexy blonde route.”
“Not true. You’re just the right age. These days men are looking for a little more than the dumb blonde. They want a more experienced look, a woman who seems to know what they want and can give it to them. I’m setting up some interviews for you right now and I want you to wear the wig when you go to them.”
“Okay.”
“When are you going back to work in the club?”
“I start tonight.”
“Good. We got to promote that. Okay if I bring some producers over?”
She looked at him doubtfully. “Don’t you think that will frighten some of them away? I can’t see the studios being crazy about that association.”
“Fuck the studios. That’s not where the action is. It’s the independents who are setting all the trends. The studios do nothing but try to catch up.”
“I can’t see building a career on motorcycle pictures.”
“What’s wrong with them? Jack Nicholson didn’t do so bad. He made about four of them before Easy Rider and look where he is now. One of the biggies.”
She was silent.
“I know the money isn’t much, but there’s a lot of work in that field.”
“I don’t know.”
“Ansbach wants to use you again,” he said. “And it’s not a bike picture this time.”
“What is it?”
“A story of a women’s prison camp. There are a couple of good parts in it but you’ve got the lead if you want it.”
“Do you have the script?”
“You know how he works. The script won’t be ready until he starts shooting. But here’s a copy of the treatment,” he said, holding out some pages. “While you’re reading, I’ll make a couple of calls.”
“You want me to read it now?”
“It’s the only copy I have, and I need it. He wants me to find some other girls for him. It won’t take long. It’s only about twelve pages.”
She had finished reading before he was through his second telephone call. “What do you think?” he asked.
“I don’t think it’s for me.”
“It’s the big part.”
“It’s out-and-out S and M.”
“It’s what the audiences are buying.”
“I don’t like it. There’s not even a pretense of a story line. Just one scene after another of girls going down on girls and girls beating up on girls.”
“That’s what those prisons are like. Besides it’s just a treatment. The script will be better.”
“I can’t see how a film like that can do me any good. I wind up seeming to be the dyke of all time.”
“You’re an actress. It shouldn’t be too difficult for you to get into it.”
She detected the subtle change in his voice. “What do you mean?”
“Come on, Jane,” he said, putting on the charm. “We’re both adults. I know what you’re into. I’m not exactly blind, you know.”
She didn’t answer.
“I’ve met your friend from back East.”
She felt herself flush. “What I do is my business,” she said shortly. “I think it’s a lousy idea and I don’t want any part of it.”
“Wait a minute,” he said placatingly. “Okay, okay. Ansbach and I thought you might go for it. There will be other things.”
“What about the story ideas I gave you?” she asked.
“I’m circulating them. I’ll keep you informed.”
“Good. You can reach me at the apartment during the day. I’ll be at the club at night.”
“You’ll hear from me soon. I’m setting up appointments for you over at Warner and Paramount.” He followed her to the door. “What about that screenplay you told me you were working on?”
“I’ll show it to you as soon as I finish.”
“Don’t forget. I got a hunch we can really break through with that one.” He kissed her cheek. “We’ll keep in touch.”
***
“I didn’t expect you back so soon,” Licia said to JeriLee came into the apartment.
JeriLee looked at the closed suitcases standing by the door. “You weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye?”
“I don’t like goodbyes any more than you do.”
JeriLee was silent for a moment. “Where are you heading from here?”
“Chicago?” Licia said. “I spoke to Fred. I told him everything was straightened out here. He was very nice about it. He didn’t complain that I was spending too much time with you.”
The doorbell rang and JeriLee opened the door.
The man touched his cap. “You called for a taxi, ma’am?”
She gestured toward the suitcases. When the taxi driver left, she and Licia stood looking at each other.
Licia broke the silence. “I guess I better be goin’.”
JeriLee felt the pressure of the tears against her eyes. “I don’t want you to leave like this. I don’t want you to be angry with me.”
Licia’s voice was even. “I’m not angry, honey. It’s just that last night you let me know exactly where I stand. Nowhere.”
“But we can still be friends.”
Licia let a deep breath escape her lips. “Sure, honey. But the kind of friends I want to be and the kind of friends you want us to be are two different things.” She forced a smile. “I better get movin’. Planes don’t wait.”
They moved toward each other and their lips met gently. “Bye, baby,” Licia whispered.
They heard a sound behind them and turned to see Mike standing in the doorway. “You leaving?” he asked.
Licia looked and walked past him, then looked back at Mike. “Now you look after my little girl real good. Hear?”
Mike nodded.
“Anything wrong?” Mike asked as the door closed behind Licia.
JeriLee shook her head, tears blurring her eyes. “What brought you over just now?” she asked.
“Licia called me. She said you wanted to see me.”
Licia would do something like that. “I can use a drink,” she said.
“Vodka and iced tea coming up,” he said quickly. He returned a moment later with the drink in his hand. He gave it to her, smiling. “Want the service put back on?” he asked.
She nodded slowly.
“Great! I can get my shit together and be back here within an hour. Should I pick up some steaks for tonight?”
She nodded again.
“Hey, it’s goin’ to be fantastic. Now that I know where your head’s at, it will be even better. I got a couple of cute friends you really will dig.”
He was gone before she could answer. She started to roll a joint. Being a little bit stoned would ease the pain of feeling that she just couldn’t seem to communicate with anyone.
Chapter 18
JeriLee glanced at her watch, then across th
e elegantly furnished room at Mike. It was after seven and she was due at the club at eight. Mike was standing at the bar talking to their host. She put down her vodka and tonic and went toward them. As she approached they fell silent.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Jasmin,” she apologized, “but I have to leave for work.”
The tall gray-haired man with the deeply suntanned face smiled. “It’s quite all right. Now that we’ve met, you must have Mike bring you here more often.”
“Thank you,” She smiled and turned to Mike. “If you want to stay I can call a cab.”
“No,” he said quickly. “I was getting ready to leave myself. I’ll drop you at the club.”
“I’ll have Rick’s bags put in your car then,” Mr. Jasmin said.
After speaking briefly to one of the barmen, Jasmin returned to them. “I’ll walk you to your car,” he said.
Jasmin pointed to the pool as they stepped out on the terrace. “We have a Sunday brunch around the pool every week,” he said. “Lots of bright fun people. Come by if you feel like it.”
“Thank you,” JeriLee said, thinking that if they were anything like the people she had just seen they wouldn’t be much fun. All the men seemed like reserved business types and the few women who were there had nothing at all to say to one another.
Surrounded by Cadillacs, Mercedes and Continentals, Mike’s VW stood out like a sore thumb. As they got to the car, two men came out of a back door, each carrying a large black valise.
“Put them in the backseat,” Mike told them.
“Thanks for the drinks, Mr. Jasmin,” Mike said.
“My thanks too, Mr. Jasmin,” JeriLee added.
Jasmin smiled at her. “You’re welcome. And please try to come Sunday.” He was still smiling but there was a hard edge in his voice as he said to Mike, “Rick says to take good care of his things now.”
“I will, Mr. Jasmin,” Mike said quickly. “You tell him he’s got nothing to worry about.”
As they pulled out of the driveway, JeriLee looked across at Mike. “That was a strange cocktail party. Nobody seemed to want to talk to anybody else.”
“You know businessmen. Heavy types.”
“What does Jasmin do?”
“He’s a financial man of some kind,” Mike answered. “Usually his parties are a little better but today’s was a real downer. I’m sorry I dragged you to it.”
“It’s okay. I’d been at that typewriter long enough. It was good to get away.” She glanced at the black valises in the rear seat. “What are you doing with those bags?”
“A friend of mine is going out of town for awhile and I promised to keep them until he gets back. He left them at Jasmin’s for me to pick up.”
“Was he there? I don’t remember meeting him.”
“He was gone before we arrived.”
“Why didn’t Jasmin keep the bags? He certainly has more room than you have.”
“You don’t ask a man like Jasmin to do things like that. Besides, it won’t be any problem. I’ll just stick them up in my closet until he comes back. They won’t be in your way.”
They were silent until he pulled the car into the parking lot in front of the club. “Maybe we’ll go out there for Sunday brunch like Mr. Jasmin said. I think he likes you. He’s not the kind of a man who invites everybody.”
“We’ll see,” she said noncommittally.
“It’ll do you good to get out a little more. You’ve been inside for more than two weeks now.”
“I want to get this screenplay finished first.” She looked at him. “Picking me up after work?”
“I’ll be here.” He glanced back over his shoulder as a car pulled into the parking lot driveway behind him. “I better get moving,” he said nervously. “I’m blocking traffic.”
JeriLee watched him pull out of the driveway. There was something strange about him. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it but she sensed a tension in him from the moment they had arrived at the Jasmin house.
The manager came rushing up to her. “You’ll have to go on first,” he said. “Anne just called in sick.”
She smiled. “No sweat, Jack. I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
***
Mike opened the door for her and she went past him into the apartment. “Care for a drink?” he asked.
She shook her head wearily. “I’m really bent. I had to take nine turns tonight. One of the girls didn’t show up.”
“That’s too much.”
“I ache all over. I think I’ll take a Nembutal and really crash.”
“You do that. A good night’s sleep is the best thing for you. I think I’ll smoke a joint and read the papers before I come to bed.”
“Okay,” she said. The hot shower eased some of the aching in her muscles. After drying off, she pulled her terry cloth robe around her, popped two sleeping pills and went back into the living room.
Mike was sitting at a chair in front of the window. The faint sweet smell of weed hung in the air.
“I’ll have a drag,” she said, taking the joint from him. She took a toke, then passed it back. “I thought you were going to read the paper,” she said.
“I got bored,” he said. “The same old shit all the time.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked.
“Me? Sure. Fine. Never better.”
She nodded as if accepting his reassurance. Whatever was wrong wasn’t her business, especially if he didn’t want to talk about it. “Good night,” she said.
“Good night.”
She went into the bedroom and closed the door. She was asleep almost before she could turn off the light.
***
The sound of voices reached into the dark and pulled her awake. She moved sluggishly, trying to clear her head. The voices were louder now. Suddenly the bedroom door was flung open.
A man reached in and turned on the lights. His voice was harsh. “Okay, sister, out of bed.”
For a moment it seemed like a dream. She was still groggy from the sleeping pills. “What do you want? Who are you?” She reached for the phone. “You better get out of here before I call the police.”
“We are the police, lady. We want to talk to you.”
She pulled the covers up around her chest. “What about?”
“The two valises your boyfriend picked up this afternoon. Where are they?”
Mike suddenly appeared in the doorway behind the policeman. “You don’t have to talk to him,” he shouted. “Tell him you want to talk to your lawyer!”
A uniformed policeman came up behind Mike and pulled him away from the door. “Keep your fuckin’ hands off me!” Mike yelled.
JeriLee stared at the plainclothesman. “What is all this about?”
“Your boyfriend’s movin’ dope. This time we got him. We saw those bags come in here. We didn’t see them come out.”
“This time?” she asked, bewildered.
“Third time and out. We picked him up twice before but couldn’t make it stick. This time we’ll tear the place apart if we have to.”
“You can’t do that without a warrant!” Mike shouted.
The plainclothesman took a paper out of his pocket. “We’ve got it. We would have been in here sooner but the judge didn’t sign it until a half hour ago.” He turned back to JeriLee. “Better get something on and get out here.” He walked back into the living room, leaving the door open.
JeriLee put on her terry cloth robe and went into the living room. Surrounded by three plainclothesmen and two uniformed policemen, Mike was sitting sulkily on the couch.
The man who had spoken to her in the bedroom gestured to the men behind him. “I’m Detective Collins, county police. Detective Millstein and Special Agent Cochran of the F.B.I. Now about those two valises?”
“You don’t have to talk to him,” Mike snapped. “You got to inform her of her rights.”
“You’re a lousy lawyer, Mike,” Detective Collins said without a smile. “That’s only
if you arrest someone. I haven’t arrested her. Yet.”
JeriLee felt the panic rising. “What are you arresting me for? I haven’t done anything.”
“I didn’t say you had, sister,” Collins said.
“Don’t listen to him, Jane,” Mike said. “He’s trying to trick you.”
For the first time the F.B.I. agent spoke. “Why don’t you make it easy on yourself, Mike, and tell us where the valises are? It would be a shame to mess up this nice apartment.”
Mike didn’t answer.
“Might as well, Mike. You’re nailed this time. We picked Rick up at the airport with two of the suitcases on him. We also picked up Jasmin early this evening and we saw you bring the suitcases here.”
Mike stared silently at the floor.
The agent turned to JeriLee. “How about it, miss? Do you know where the suitcases are?”
“No.” She stared at Mike, who wouldn’t look at her. She was beginning to get angry. How stupid she had been to believe his bullshit about not working, about how living off the apartment was enough for him. Sure it was. If he pushed a little shit on the side. She looked at the agent. “But I think I know where they might be. There’s a locked closet in the hall going into the bathroom where he keeps his personal things.”
“Do you have a key?”
“No. He has.”
The agent held out his hand to Mike. Sullenly Mike took a key from his pocket and gave it to him. The agent gave the key to the other detective. “Let’s go.”
Detective Collins took JeriLee by the arm and one of the uniformed policemen gestured to Mike. Mike got to his feet and they went through the bedroom to the narrow hallway.
The two suitcases were just inside the closet door. The detectives pulled them out and placed them flat on the bed. Collins tried to open one, then straightened up. “It’s a combination lock. Got the number, Mike?”
“No,” Mike answered. “Why should I? I’m just minding them for a friend. I don’t even know what’s inside them.”
Collins laughed. “I’ll bet.” He took a small instrument from his pocket and played with the locks for a moment. He pressed the release buttons and the valises snapped open.
JeriLee stared at the neatly wrapped bricklike squares. There were twenty of them in each valise. Collins took one out, tore a corner of the paper and smelled it. He nodded, holding it out to the federal agent. “The information was right. We can take them in and book them now.”
The Lonely Lady Page 36