Murder! Hollywood Style

by Carol Branston

  Anne hurried off to her bungalow. She had arranged for a hairdresser and makeup artist to come and planned on taking a bubble bath before they arrived. Just like in the movies, she was going totally Hollywood.

  Sharon and Marco were going to fit in a quickie. He’d been hot and hard all afternoon. There was no way he was going to let one more moment come between him and his coming.

  CHAPTER 34

  Checking In

  When Karen’s call went through to Val’s suite Didi’s voice answered the phone.

  “Hi Didi, it’s Karen.”

  “Karen, how good to hear your voice.”

  “And what a surprise to hear yours. I had no idea you were still in Boston.”

  “Yes, well, Glen and I decided to stay until you get back.”

  “How’s Val?”

  “Just fine.”

  “Can I speak to her please?”

  Karen started to fume.

  “Sure, hold on a minute.”

  A very happy voice finally came to the phone. “Karen luv, how nice of you to call.”

  “Hello, princess how are you?”

  “I’m fine, just fine. You left me in good hands. Honestly, Glen, Didi, and Kevin turned out to be absolutely marvelous company.”

  “Murray said you were asleep when he called, and I was concerned.”

  “Oh no. I only pretended. I didn’t want to talk to him.” She giggled

  “I’m glad it was nothing serious.”

  “No, nothing. As you’ve said, Karen, not to worry.”

  There was a pause. Then Val continued. “What did you think of the film?”

  “Val, you were without a doubt, breathtaking. This flick is going to make you very big. Another reason I called was to make sure you knew the Première is tonight. Murray kept saying you said something about watching it tomorrow. So tune in tonight, dopey.”

  “I honestly did think it was tomorrow. I’ve got my days all mixed up. Time is just going too fast.”

  “You must be having a good time then?”

  There was another pause, then Val broke the silence once more. “Did you see Nicky?”

  “Oh yes. And I surprised him by bringing his friend Marco out from New York. You should have seen his face when we all walked in. It was priceless.”

  “Is he happy?”

  “Not very at the moment. I think he’s in shock.”

  “Did he ask about me?”

  “Sure.”

  “How did my mother treat him?”

  “You know her; she’s not about to rock any boats. She was terrific. She’s something else. I think she’s a riot.”

  “I’m glad she’s not being a burden to you.”

  “Are you kidding? She is magnificent with the press, and all your agents love her. She told them she’d hold a press conference after the movie tonight. So you rest up, and don’t you dare miss it.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  After another pause, Karen broke the silence. “Is Glen there? I’d like to say hello.”

  “No, he went to his room for something just before you called. He should be back in a minute.”

  Val gestured to Didi to call Glen on the other phone and tell him he may be getting a phone call.

  “I’ll call you all after the show. I’ll speak to him then.”

  “Okay. I’ll keep him here for your call. Have a wonderful time, look beautiful, and wave to me.”

  “I’ll try to look beautiful, and I’ll blow you a kiss, but I’ll save the wonderful time for when I get back to Boston.”

  Before Val could answer, the phone went dead. It felt as if something in her had died as well.

  Didi walked back into the room. “Here hon, you need a puff.”

  “I need you.” Val started to cry. Didi sat next to her, held her in her arms, and rocked her like a baby.

  Val kept repeating. “I need you. I need you.”

  “You’ve got me, silly.”

  “We won’t have much more time together. I just know it. The world will invade. What are we going to do?”

  “Worry about it later. Listen, we’re not going to let anyone or anything come into our lives right now.”

  “But I have to watch the Première . I must. And Karen’s going to call back after the show. She insists on speaking to Glen.”

  “Too bad. When I spoke to Glen he said he’s all tucked in with Kevin and nothing’s going to make him leave that hot bed.”

  She tried to get a smile out of Val, but it didn’t work. “Listen, baby doll. We simply won’t answer the phone.”

  “You’re quite right. What can she do three thousand miles away?”

  Didi didn’t answer but couldn’t help thinking, you’d be surprised.

  CHAPTER 35

  Checking Out

  Nicky and Steve were speeding along the Pacific Highway in total silence. Steve had just been told he wouldn’t be going to the premiere. The extra ticket had been given to Marco. Nicky felt bad for him, but compared to all the other shit he had on his plate, it was nothing. He kept asking himself, why Marco of all people?

  Steve broke the silence. “Don’t think I’m going to sit home and watch you having a ball without me.”

  “Listen, Steve, this isn’t the way I wanted it either. But for right now, I can’t handle any hassles from you.”

  “So I’m a hassle now, am I? Well thanks a lot. I wasn’t a hassle when you called from Rome and said have patience. ‘Trust me. It’s for us honey.’ I remember it all. And I did just that, and you know what? I don’t like where we are! Or I should say, where I am.”

  Nicky couldn’t argue. What Steve had said was true. When they arrived at the beach house he was relieved when Steve stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door. He collapsed into the new hanging chair with the built-in stereo they’d had such fun finding the week before. He didn’t want music, just the total encompassing feeling. It seemed to cut him off from the world for a minute. He was still trying to figure out where Marco came into the picture. With Karen behind the whole so-called surprise, it had to have to something to do with the gay scene. Whatever happened, Marco would never know from him. His stomach was in knots.

  CHAPTER 36

  According To Plan A

  Marco was drained. He’d put in some marathon performances in his day, but this chick took the cake. He lay back smiling while she still jumped around the room. She looked like the happiest person alive and had good reason to be.

  When Marco had decided to take her to Vegas for a few days, she’d told him she had nothing to wear.

  “Call the classiest boutique in town and have them send over five or six things, you know, something for tonight and then the Vegas trip.”

  She had done just that. Now, as he watched her, he couldn’t help thinking if he continued at this pace, he’d probably be dead by Monday.

  “Well, sugar, which one for tonight?”

  She was modeling an original Courrege: a white plastic see-through mini with a flesh-colored body stocking underneath. White platform boots that hit her midthigh completed the outfit.

  “You look like a lion tamer from Mars. I want some class. You know what I mean? Not that kooky shit.”

  “But, sugar, this is the style now!”

  “I don’t give a shit. If you go out with me, you go looking like a normal broad, not a kook. Get it?”

  She got it and didn’t argue. She’d been around enough to know these types of guys had to show they were tough and have things their way. She tried on a beautiful, full-length, silk jersey dress. It had a solid black Empire top, with a black and white horizontal striped skirt cut on the bias. It clung to her curves, and sure enough she got the okay from Mr. Macho. She planned on keeping the white plastic Courrege and wearing it on her own time.

  “What time is it, sugar?”

  “Time for me to close my eyes.”

  “Okay, baby. Do you mind if I go over to Karen’s for a while?”

  S
he knew he would love her asking for permission.

  “That way I won’t be in your way, sugar.”

  “Do that.”

  He turned over and went to sleep.

  In the meantime, Karen was feeling pretty good about herself. Val sounded fine and Marco’s appearance had done more to Nicky than she could have ever hoped for. She had watched him pale before her eyes. Half daydreaming, the knock on the door made her jump. She opened it and was relieved and very pleasantly surprised when she saw Sharon.

  “Entrez, mon amour. So what’s new in bungalow forty-six?”

  Sharon flopped on the couch laughing.

  “He passed out for an hour. I have to wake him up at six-thirty.”

  “I give you a lot of credit. Honestly, Sharon, I don’t think I could have chosen a more perfect person to do this favor for me.”

  Sharon just shrugged. “I’m kind of getting off on it myself. I mean, he’s cute enough, that’s for sure. And then I have to say he’s pretty generous. What more can a working girl ask for?”

  They both laughed at this.

  “Do you want a drink or some dope?”

  “I think right now I could go for a J.”

  They both lay back and relaxed until Karen broke the silence.

  “Did you ever think about coming back East?”

  “Yea, a few times. But I really want to work in film, and this is still the best place to be for that.”

  “I was just thinking, what if Marco asks you to come to New York?”

  Sharon giggled at the thought. “Oh, I don’t think it will come to that.”

  “I wouldn’t count it out. He seems very taken with you, and if that came down, I for one would love it.” She glanced at her watch. “Well my dear it’s time to get our shit together. Go and wake up Super Stud. We’ll all catch up in the Polo Lounge.”

  She pulled Sharon to her feet, walked her to the door, and gave her a quick kiss. “See you later, gorgeous.”

  “Can’t wait!”

  CHAPTER 37

  Ready or Not

  Karen stepped into the shower feeling the happiest she’d been in a long time. She was actually looking forward to the Première. She’d be back in New York on Monday and would deal with all that nonsense then. At least Glen was still in Boston keeping his eye on things.

  She blew out her hair and it looked like a lion’s mane. She lined and smudged her eyes more heavily than usual, mainly for the photographers she knew would be everywhere snapping everyone.

  She planned on wearing her new Yves Saint Laurent smoking ensemble. She wore nothing beneath the black satin vest or the velvet tuxedo pants. Her only piece of jewelry was a very large diamond suspended from a delicate platinum chain you could hardly see. Her shoes were Saint Laurent black satin sandals. With the platform, she was at least six foot two. She hated to carry a purse, so Yves had designed an inside jacket pocket with a zip, just for her and just big enough to hold her bare essentials: a C-note, a couple of lines in a tiny vial, and her Amex Card.

  Her fitted, silk velvet jacket with wide satin lapels, slipped on like a glove. She finished off her look with a hot pink silk square in her breast pocket—a little gift from Yves himself. It matched both the lining of her jacket and her new Saint Laurent lipstick.

  Yves was her favorite designer. When she had been in Paris in April she saw his fall collection. At that time she’d had no idea when she would wear Le Smoking ensemble, as Yves called it; she only knew she had to have it. Now she was ready to make a statement coast-to-coast.

  All over the country it was still not acceptable for women to wear pants in certain places. Some of the best restaurants in New York wouldn’t allow women wearing slacks to dine there. A few weeks earlier she’d planned dinner with her father at Le Cirque. She had arrived wearing a knit tunic and pants and had been told by the maître d’ she couldn’t enter. She had proceeded to horrify him by simply letting her pants drop. There she stood in just her top. It was long enough to pass for an extremely short mini dress. The maître d’ could say nothing! She picked up her pants, folded them neatly, and put them in the large Henri Bendel bag she had with her from her earlier shopping spree. She gave it to the hat-check girl, who was getting a big kick out of the whole scene, and went to meet her father for dinner.

  This was different. She was about to be seen by millions. At a major event. Wearing pants! On top of wearing a pantsuit, her ensemble was black. Nobody wore black in L.A. They all dressed like peacocks with sequins. She was about to cause an uproar and she loved the idea. She knew a lot of her gay women friends would be thrilled; she would be breaking another taboo, and she was sure W. would love it and do a big spread on her.

  Meanwhile Anne was in her glory. She had been fussed over and primped since entering her bungalow. Manicure, pedicure, facial, hair, makeup, the works. She slipped into her new Givenchy and stood in front of the full-length mirror looking like a column covered with a wisp of the palest gray chiffon suspended from one row of delicate crystals that circled her neck. It was understated, elegant, and chic. The short, raw-silk jacket worn with the dress had delicate beading on the mandarin collar and cuffs. Perfection was the only word she could think of to describe her reflection. She tossed her head and smiled.

  “And so it should be for that kind of money.”

  She was secretly pleased about being the center of attraction on that special night—the night when her baby would become a Hollywood star. Nothing was going to spoil that for her.

  She still couldn’t get over Val’s California agents who all seemed so blatantly phony. It occurred to her, if she could see through them so clearly, how did they manage to get into such important positions, and on top of that stay there?

  She heard a knock and floated to the door. Karen came in and they ooh’ed and ah’ed about each other.

  “I called everyone except Marco and Sharon to come to your bungalow for a meeting. Ice, a few choices of drinks, and some h’ors d’oeuvres are already en route. I hope you don’t mind?”

  “Of course not, dear. That was good thinking.”

  Half an hour later, all the principles were present, including Nicky. They stood around making small talk, sipping on cocktails, and nibbling toast points and caviar.

  Everyone looked fabulous. All smiles! There were even a few attempts at humor. But there was tension in the air. Marty tapped his glass to get everybody’s attention.

  “I just want to say a few things about tonight.”

  The room fell silent.

  “If we have a hit, well, not if because I’m sure it’s going to be a blockbuster… anyway, the studio has come to the conclusion that we should have a second Première in Boston. It will coincide with the opening preview of Val’s show. That way we get double coverage on the movie, and the public will have a chance to see Val and Nicky together.”

  Everyone seemed to go along with this, nodding in agreement. No one in their right mind was about to disagree with “the studio.” What they wanted still went. Karen thought it a stroke of genius as far as publicity for the movie was concerned. Marty quieted them down once more and continued.

  “And tonight all questions about Val and Nicky will be met by saying, ‘You’ll have to come to Boston, for the rest of the story,’ or something along those lines. No other details. Okay? Any questions?”

  No one said anything.

  “Okay then, I think the time has come! Let’s go.”

  They decided who was driving with whom and went to the Polo Lounge to meet Sharon and Marco. Another twenty minutes was spent sipping more champagne and complimenting each other all over again.

  Three limos and a police escort were waiting for them. Search lights flashed across the sky and could be seen for miles. They were all feeling no pain, although nerves were a little frayed.

  Sharon and Marco were the first to arrive at Grauman’s with Shelly and his wife. The cameras popped, but the crowd was disappointed when they weren’t anyone. Sharon did get a lo
t of attention from the photographers, and Marco told her in no uncertain terms, “See, I told you, you gotta have class.”

  Herby Ziegler and his wife were the next to arrive with Marty Katz and his wife. Unfortunately they weren’t famous either and were treated to boos from the crowd. The other actors in the film were treated warmly, but by the time Nicky’s limo pulled up to the curb, the crowd was ravenous for a star. Nicky stepped out of the car and the crowd went berserk. They broke through the police line. Murray, who had staged the whole event, even had a fainter! He hoped to God that one of the many cameras he’d set up had caught that gem. Nicky, with Anne on one arm and Karen on the other, stopped to have pictures taken as they walked the red carpet.

  Murray really knew how to milk a crowd. He stood in the lobby watching, feeling very pleased with himself. He had learnt his craft well, mostly from the movies, old Mae West films in particular. What had made her so special? How had she remained a legend for so long? The answer? She had kept the crowd waiting! The first twenty minutes of a Mae West film was spent talking about her and her arrival. Just when the audience was at their wits end, in came the star. It worked then, and it worked now.

  Look at them, he thought. What a fantastic-looking trio. All weird as far as I’m concerned. He looked at Nicky. ‘Look at him. Handsome! Every broad in the world wants him and he wants boys, go figure. And her! Karen. All the bread in the world and she doesn’t know what the fuck she wants. Then Val’s mother. Boy, she is some shrewd lady. She knew the score, and yet is willing right here on national TV to stand with Nicky Venuti and be friendly and sweet because the publicity will be good for her daughter’s career. What a screwup! He laughed but couldn’t help thinking to himself, Hey, but who am I to judge. You gotta make a buck where you can. Right? Right.

  And at that moment he was making a lot of bucks.