Lovers and Gamblers

by Collins, Jackie

  OK, so he didn’t make any bells ring. But she hadn’t expected he would. Sex had never been a turn-on, just a way to make some money. Linda was wrong about it all being so wonderful.

  Yes, Cody was the guy for her, of that she was sure.

  But in the back of her mind was a feeling of disappointment. No sexual waves. No incredible flooding of the body and emotions. No hot and cold thrills. For a second her thoughts lingered fleetingly on Al King, then sternly she shut him out. Cody Hills was the man for her. Cody Hills was the man she wanted to marry.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Evan didn’t know how it happened – well, not exactly. One moment he had been enjoying a more than friendly conversation with Nellie, and ten minutes later, when she had come back from a visit to Al, she seemed distant and upset. She didn’t even sit down next to him, she went and huddled alone in a seat at the front.

  He didn’t have the courage to follow her. What if she snubbed him?

  Probably his bloody father had hurt her feelings. He was good at doing that. As long as he was all right he didn’t care what he said. It amazed Evan why people were still so anxious to jump at his every command. He treated them all like dirt.

  When the plane landed, Evan hung back as usual. There was always such a fuss at every airport. Photographers, crowds, two-faced smiling officials. Evan hated it all.

  He was concentrating on staying out of the way when the fat girl spoke.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, bringing her face and bad breath very close to him. ‘Whachasay we all ride inta town together.’ She wasn’t asking him, she was telling him.

  ‘I don’t think…’he began.

  ‘You got a ride, dontcha? Glory an’ I don’t take up no room. Like we got no bread left. Like not even bus fare.’

  ‘Yeah,’ agreed Glory blankly, hitching up a laddered red stocking.

  ‘OK,’ muttered Evan. He knew who they were. They followed Al everywhere.

  He got in the last of the fleet of black Cadillacs sent to meet Al and his entourage. The girls squeezed in with him. A couple of the musicians were already in the car.

  ‘Get lucky, Evan?’ one of them laughed, nudging his colleague.

  ‘Aw, shut y’face,’ snapped Plum. ‘After what we done f’you guys on this tour y’d think one of you would see we got a ride.’

  ‘Anyone riding you needs insurance!’ laughed the musician.

  ‘Don’t come to me next time you want it,’ spat Plum. ‘Y’all stink anyway.’ She turned to Evan. ‘Friggin’ animals. Don’t ’preciate nothin’.’

  ‘Nothin’,’ echoed Glory, scratching at her frizzy mop of hair.

  The car drove straight to the hotel. The two girls followed Evan into the lobby and waited while he collected his key.

  He pretended not to see them as he headed for the elevator. But they fell into step, one on each side of him.

  ‘Y’don’t mind if we use y’room for a few minutes,’ stated Plum. ‘Gotta wash, pee. You’re real nice. Know that?’

  No. He didn’t know that. But it was nice to hear. In fact he had never been told that before. He warmed slightly towards the big fat girl.

  They crowded into his room. ‘Jeeze, I’m hungry!’ exclaimed Plum. ‘D’you think we could have room service? Jeeze – what I could do with a coupla cokes and a burger.’

  Why not? He didn’t have to pay for it. ‘Order what you like,’ he said magnanimously. After all if they thought he was nice he didn’t want to spoil their opinion of him.

  After scanning the room service menu and choosing a mammoth meal, the two girls vanished into the bathroom. They stayed locked away until a knock at the door announced the arrival of the food. Then they emerged, wearing different outfits, although how they managed it Evan didn’t know, for they possessed one scruffy-looking carry-all between the two of them.

  Glory seemed to have perked up considerably. ‘Nice room!’ she exclaimed as if seeing it for the first time.

  ‘Big! Too big for one guy all on his own. Food! You sure are one wonderful person. Cute too.’ She winked at him. ‘Wish we had some booze. Got any booze?’

  Evan shook his head.

  ‘Booze makes me do veree dirty things!’ Glory added, rolling her slightly protruding eyes. ‘How ’bout you?’

  ‘Don’t drink,’ muttered Evan.

  ‘Never?’

  ‘Champagne.’

  Glory fell about laughing. ‘Shit, man! Champagne. ’Scuse me for bein’ in the same room!’

  ‘Leave him alone,’ interrupted Plum quickly.

  ‘I ain’t hassling him. Honest I’m not. He’s the man. Like look at this food – got me droolin’.’ Glory picked up some french fries with her fingers and stuffed them in her mouth. ‘Yum! Good stuff.’ She narrowed her eyes at Evan. ‘Ain’t you all eatin’?’

  ‘I might have to eat later with my father.’

  ‘Oooh! With my father!’ Glory mimicked his accent, whilst Plum mouthed ‘shut up’ at her. ‘French fries no good for your spots anyway,’ yawned Glory.

  Evan reddened.

  ‘Don’t go gettin’ uptight ’bout your spots. I got spots too. All over my bum. Wanna see?’ She started to unzip her jeans.

  ‘Not,’ objected Plum, ‘I’m eating.’

  ‘Tell you what,’ laughed Glory, ‘you can squeeze my spots if I can squeeze yours! A deal?’ She stuck out a skinny hand with nails bitten down to the quick. Evan took it. They shook solemnly. ‘You’re a real nice person,’ Glory smiled, ‘I think we’re all gonna get along just fine.’

  * * *

  ‘How do you like our city?’ the girl interviewer asked.

  ‘The best!’ replied Al firmly. He knew what they would all ask, and he gave them all the same answers. ‘Saw a great show when I was a kid – Oklahoma. Howard Keel singing his whatsits off.’

  ‘Howard Keel?’ she questioned, smiling politely.

  ‘Yeah – Howard Keel – you remember…’ He trailed off. How could she remember? She was only about twenty-something. The young, smart ones. They always sent the college ladies to interview him. Why didn’t he ever get an old bag? Someone who knew what the fuck he was talking about.

  I will be thirty-eight in two days’ time, he thought. Two years after that I will be forty. And I don’t want to be poncing around the world dodging randy females when I’m forty. I don’t want to be married to Edna either.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ said the interviewer.

  ‘I beg your pardon what?’

  ‘I – I thought you said something.’

  ‘Just your ears playing tricks on you.’ He took a swig of champagne and surveyed the girl. She was pretty in a Cosmopolitan way. He leaned forward, fixing her with his deep black eyes.

  She moved uncomfortably on her chair. ‘I wanted to ask you,’ she began.

  ‘Let’s forget about the boring questions,’ he said. ‘Let’s just get it all off and fuck.’

  ‘Oh!’ She blushed.

  ‘Come on,’ insisted Al, ‘this is your chance for an exclusive. Isn’t that what all little girl reporters want?’

  She opened her mouth to reply. Didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Clothes off,’ suggested Al. He leaned back and waited. Wouldn’t it be nice if she said no. But no such luck. She was soon unzipping, unbuttoning, and unhooking.

  He yawned. What could you expect from a girl who had never even heard of Howard Keel?

  * * *

  Bernie Suntan conferred with the security heads at the Fairgrounds Arena. Everything seemed tight.

  Goddamn weather. The goddamn heat never seemed to let up. He had to carry a supply of T-shirts because he sweated his way through six of them a day.

  Goddamn tour. He wished they were in LA already. His town. A civilized place where you could walk by the pool at the Beverly Hills Hotel and see other human beings.

  He was sick of being nice to morons and bums and nothings. Little people with small minds and little jobs on hick newspapers. Douche bags all of them.


  He swigged from a can of beer. He was still smarting with embarrassment at the scene on the plane. Those two pigs that should never have been allowed out without a leash. Jeezus! That they should tell Paul about what they had done to him. Jeezus! Ugly would be an overestimation of their condition!

  Had he not been stoned and extremely horny he would not have put his tool in their direction in a million years. But Jeeze – he had been working his balls off, and where was the thanks? Major coverage in every city. Magazine pieces that you would sell your mother for. Every television show. What the fuck – he was doing a GREAT JOB!

  Of course if he had had the time he could have found himself a sweet piece. But who had time? And those two gorillas had been available and grinding their teeth for a thrust of what he had to offer.

  Fat he may be. But he could cream chicks with the best of them.

  He finished his beer, crumpled the can. What the fuck.

  They were out of his life now. He had told them in no uncertain terms to quit hanging around him.

  Roll on LA.

  * * *

  After half an hour Al was bored. He sent Miss Girl Reporter packing and lay morosely on his bed studying the ceiling. Hotel rooms. He hated them.

  Paul called to say they would be leaving for the Arena in an hour.

  Al hauled himself into the shower, soaped his body, rinsed away the previous half hour.

  He shaved. Studied his face. Plucked out a few eyebrow hairs that were daring to cross the bridge of his nose. He brushed his teeth, played with some dental floss.

  He didn’t look like a person who was nearly thirty-eight. Squinting at himself in the mirror he decided he looked no more than twenty-nine – well, thirty at the most.

  Satisfied with his appearance, he decided to phone Evan. He felt a bit guilty about the fact that he hardly saw him any more. But it was a relief – having Evan in his pocket had started to drive him crazy.

  Evan answered the phone in his room with a surly, mumbled ‘Yes?’

  ‘Coming to the show tonight?’ Al asked cheerfully.

  ‘Yes,’ answered Evan.

  ‘Good. Why don’t you come to the suite and we’ll drive over together.’

  There was a short, muffled silence, then Evan said, ‘Think I’ll see you there. Can I have some extra tickets? I’ve got some friends I want to bring.’

  He had friends! At last! ‘Sure, sure. How many do you want? I’ll have Bernie arrange it.’

  ‘’Bout six.’

  Six friends! When he worked, he worked quickly! ‘They’ll be at the box office. You and your friends want to come to the party after?’

  ‘I dunno. We might.’

  ‘Try to make it. You need any money?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Come over and I’ll give you a fifty.’

  ‘Can’t. I’ve got someone here.’

  ‘A girl?’ Al was delighted.

  ‘Yes,’ muttered Evan. ‘So can you leave the money at the desk for me?’

  ‘It will be my pleasure, son.’ Al hung up the phone well pleased. So Evan had finally got himself connected. What a relief! Not that he had been worried. He knew the kid was normal –after all he was Al King’s son, wasn’t he?

  * * *

  ‘I got you the tickets,’ Evan said.

  ‘Clever!’ sighed Glory.

  ‘Why did you want six?’

  ‘To sell, of course. Gotta make bread every way y’can. Know what I mean?’

  Evan nodded. Why hadn’t he thought of that.

  Plum was smearing lipstick on. ‘We’d better get moving. We’ve got – let me see – yeah, we got twelve tickets to sell now. Reckon we’ll make at least two hundred.’

  Glory whistled. ‘Like – rich, man.’

  Plum nodded. ‘It’ll keep us goin’.’

  ‘My father is leaving me fifty dollars at the desk,’ Evan announced proudly.

  ‘So we’re all rich!’ laughed Glory, latching her thin arm through Evan’s equally thin arm. ‘We can buy us some real good poppers and come back here and like – y’know – have a real mean time. Wanna do that, Evvaan?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said quickly, ‘let’s do that.’

  Plum threw her arm around him. ‘You’re one of us now, man,’ she said kindly.

  He positively glowed. He was one of them.

  * * *

  Bernie spotted them first, Al’s kid and the two barracudas.

  He complained to Paul, who didn’t believe him. ‘Evan, with those two? You must be mistaken.’

  ‘You want me to tell them to leave the kid alone?’ Bernie blustered: ‘Mistaken I ain’t. The three of ’em bouncing around out front as tight as thieves.’

  ‘Let me ask Al,’ Paul decided. It was up to Al to decide the company Evan should keep.

  Al said ‘Jesus!’, shook his head and laughed. ‘I guess it can’t do any harm. Leave him alone if that’s what he wants.’

  Paul passed the word to Bernie, who snorted with disgust. If it was his kid… Aw – what the fuck… Fortunately it wasn’t.

  * * *

  They counted out the money.

  Two hundred and sixteen bucks!’ exclaimed Plum in delight.

  Glory slid her arm tightly around Evan’s waist, ‘Wanna add your fifty?’ she asked slyly, ‘wanna be our partner?’

  ‘Yeah,’ agreed Plum, ‘if you go with us y’gotta pool your bread too. S’only fair.’

  ‘OK,’ squeaked Evan. He reached into his jeans’ pocket for the money, pleased he hadn’t told them about his two hundred dollars.

  Plum took the fifty, added it to their money, and then placed the wad of notes firmly in her bra. First she extracted a twenty which she handed to Glory. ‘She’ll score for us,’ Plum explained to Evan. ‘Now you’re our partner you can join in all the fun.’

  He shivered in anticipation. They weren’t Nellie, but they liked him, accepted him, and if he couldn’t have Nellie… Well…

  Glory vanished off into the crowds who had not managed to get into the concert.

  ‘She won’t be long,’ Plum informed him confidently, ‘she’s gotta nose f’ the best score. Few quacks be just right.’ She nudged him knowingly. ‘You’re not into the heavy stuff, are you?’

  He wanted to ask what heavy stuff? He wanted to ask what quacks were. He wanted to know score what?

  He stood silently. Maintain an aura of being one of them. Mustn’t ask questions. Mustn’t act like a fool.

  Once, at school, one of the seniors had been caught smoking grass. He knew what grass was. His father had offered him some once, stuffed a vile-smelling cigarette in his mouth and said: ‘Drag on that and if you ever want it again, come to me. I don’t want to catch you doing it behind my back.’

  Glory returned, skipping and laughing. Both girls seemed to have forgotten about the concert; indeed they had sold all the tickets, including their own.

  ‘Let’s go back to the hotel,’ Plum suggested, ‘an’ have a good time.’

  Glory giggled shrilly. ‘Can you give us a good time, Evan? Can you? Can you give both of us a good time?’

  He smiled bravely. Why not? If his father could do it, why couldn’t he?

  ‘Yeah,’ he croaked, ‘let’s go.’

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Dallas waited for their relationship to develop. She waited for Cody to tell her something corny like he loved her. She waited for him to make love to her again. He did none of those things.

  He phoned her on the Sunday to tell her his mother was sick and he couldn’t come over.

  He turned up at the studio on Monday for lunch as usual. And it was as usual. No mention of what had taken place between them. No words of love. No physical contact. He was exactly the same as he always was. Sweet, charming, funny. He had a script he wanted her to read. He had two important magazine interviews he had arranged for her. He had a franchise on Man Made Woman T-shirts he wanted to discuss with her. He had a top photographer coming in from New York specially to p
hotograph her.

  What with working and doing all the things Cody had arranged she did not have much time free.

  At first she was hurt by his attitude. But the hurt soon turned to a cold anger, and she felt used and debased.

  How dare he treat her like this, Cody Hills. Short, balding, not even rich – yet. And she had gone to bed with him, given herself to him – and he didn’t want to know.

  When the call from Lew Margolis finally came, she was in just the right mood for it.

  ‘I’ll come to your house,’ he informed her, no doubt hoping she would arrange a second session with the luscious Diamond.

  ‘No, I’ll come to your office,’ she insisted, ‘I have a surprise for you.’

  The date was made, and she went home, selected some of the best photos, and slid them into the cellophane pages of a leather-bound album. It was a touch she was sure Linda would have appreciated.

  * * *

  Cody was destroyed. Dallas was everything he had ever dreamed about in a relationship. But Christ! What did she want with him? She could have anyone.

  He loved her. He loved everything about her. But he knew it was a love that would destroy their relationship. And God Almighty – ultimately theirs was a business tryst. And that’s the way he had to keep it.

  Regarding things clearly and logically he could see where it was all at. She was looking for something – someone, and he just happened to be there. Yes – it could be great, until she found what she was really searching for. And then what? Wasn’t he better off being her agent, manager and friend? That way he would always be around.

  Mr. Cody Hills regrets that although he would give his left leg to keep on trucking, his head rules his heart (fortunately), and he is too smart to screw up a golden opportunity.

  He hated himself. He knew she was hurt. But one of these days she would thank him. This is where analysis got you. Made you so smart you cut off your own balls!