Stardust

by Joseph Kanon

  Think about something else. Why had Danny kept it secret? Even from his wife. Politics were public, argued about. Unless there’d been a turning away, a new life that made the past embarrassing, something to put behind you. Howard Stein had said he’d even faded away from the union, no longer interested. You get to want other things. Which still didn’t explain how he’d ended up in the alley at the Cherokee.

  Saratoga Trunk was a hit with the party, ending to applause and pats on the back. Then everyone began to leave at once, pouring out of Lasner’s chateau as if it were a downtown theater, without red trolley cars and taxis, just harried teenage parkers. The Warners and the Minots were the first to go, Bunny hovering nearby, followed by a halting line of impatient guests.

  “Did you meet the Honorable Ken?” Bunny said, waiting with them.

  “I heard him. That was good enough. Who voted for him anyway?”

  “The same people who go to the movies.” He looked up. “We don’t make the world. Right now, he’s what they like.”

  “Jack liked him anyway. That was the point, wasn’t it?”

  “Jack likes Jack. But it’s a start. Glad you enjoyed the evening,” he said to Liesl, another question mark, still working.

  When she thanked him, a bland response, Ben noticed the quick flicker of relief in his eyes. Relieved about what? That she’d got on with Dick Marshall? Or that nothing more awkward had happened, placed at Rosemary’s table? Something Bunny hadn’t expected.

  Another car left, the line moving forward. Bunny was looking at her again.

  “Do you mind my asking? Are you a dancer?”

  “A dancer?” Liesl said. “No. Why?”

  “You move very well,” he said, still looking at her.

  “Oh,” she said, not sure how to respond. A professional appraisal, not a pass.

  “Maybe it’s the theater,” Ben said. “Same training.”

  “You’re an actress?” Bunny said.

  “Before, in Vienna. Not here.”

  Bunny tilted his head, taking her in at a slightly different angle. “But not in pictures. Would you make a test?”

  “A test?”

  “To see how you look,” Bunny said simply. “People are different on film.”

  “Oh, and with my voice.”

  “Never mind about that. It’s just-it gave me an idea, the way you moved. If you’re interested.”

  Liesl nodded, still too surprised to answer.

  “I’ll send you some pages, then. Here we are,” he said, opening the door as the car pulled up.

  Liesl stood there for a second, hesitant, then got in, taking direction. Bunny bent forward, eye level with the window.

  “Maybe nothing,” he said. “Let’s just see. We’ll call you.”

  In the car she was quiet, looking out the open window at the dark hedges and driveways, Beverly Hills asleep.

  “This place,” she said, partly to herself. “Years. And then one night you walk into a party. So I should thank you for that.”

  “He’s not doing it for me. You really interested?”

  She shrugged. “It doesn’t mean anything. They test everybody. Favors.”

  “Not Bunny.”

  “Ha. Place your bets. So maybe it comes up.” She looked out again. “And maybe it doesn’t. So let’s see, what else am I going to do now?”

  She pushed in the dashboard lighter, then rummaged in her purse for a cigarette.

  “Do you think she’s pretty?”

  “Who?”

  “Who,” she said, waiting.

  “I think she looks like you.”

  She stopped the lighter in midair, then put the red coiled tip to the cigarette.

  “You do?”

  “Maybe they were all you.”

  She went quiet again, smoking. “That’s nice,” she said softly. “To say that.” She turned from the window. “Then why have them.”

  “I don’t know,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road. “Did you?”

  “What, have others?” She turned up her lips slightly. “You mean since he did?” She shook her head. “Only before. You want to know how many?”

  “I didn’t mean-”

  “I don’t even remember. That life, it made you that way. You never knew when you’d have to leave. Go somewhere else. So you took what you could. I was no different. But not after.”

  “Why not?”

  “I wasn’t brought up that way. When you’re married- You know I can cook? Sew. All those things. A good wife, for somebody. But not him.”

  They entered the house through the garage, turning off the driveway lights behind them.

  “Do you want a swim?” she said, unclasping her pearls as they walked. “It’s good after a party-for hangovers.”

  “You go ahead.” He smiled. “Don’t worry, I won’t watch.”

  “Well, then good night. Thank you for the party. My evening with the stars.”

  She reached up and kissed his cheek, then stopped, her face as close as it had been in the theater, but this time looking at him, her eyes moving, as if she were reading him, deciphering. He stood still, feeling her breath again, then the graze of her hand behind his neck drawing him closer to kiss him on the mouth. He opened his, almost dizzy with surprise and the taste of her. They broke, a gasp for air, then kissed again, her mouth open to his, both of them eager.

  “What are you doing?” he said, moving down to her neck, smelling perfume and warm skin.

  She pulled back. “I wanted to know what it would be like.”

  He looked at her, their faces still close. “I’m not him.”

  She smiled, moving her hand to his forehead, gently brushing the hair away.

  “No. Someone else.”

  He felt her hand, fingertips barely touching his skin but drawing him back, a kind of permission, then lowered his head to hers again, no longer thinking, all instinct. Her mouth was moist, all of her warm, rubbing against him so that his blood rushed, excited. She started unbuttoning his shirt, her mouth still on his, then pulled away, both of them panting, holding each other. Are we going to do this, a look, not words, and she answered by taking his hand, leading him into the bedroom, the furniture just shadows outlined by the pool lights outside. She turned her back to him so he could undo her zipper, move the dress off her shoulders, letting it slide down, then hold her there, kissing the back of her neck, no longer groping, smooth, wanting to kiss every part of her, this shoulder, that one.

  She arched her back, an involuntary intake of breath, then a small sound, dropping her head so that he could kiss more of her neck, giving it to him. When he reached around to her breasts, holding them underneath, moving his thumbs against her nipples, her body came up again, pushing back against him, and he felt her bare behind, the soft round cheeks, press against the erection in his pants. They stood that way for a minute, her nipples growing hard, his groin tight against her, until he thought he would burst from it and he turned her around, kissing her mouth, then her breasts, faster, tearing off his clothes, then laying her on the bed and falling over her, his mouth covering hers, his hand moving down between her legs, feeling her wet, beginning to move against his hand.

  There was no waiting, no drawn-out stroking, everything that might come later. Only an urgency, mindless. She pulled him into her, one thrust, a second to feel her wrapped around him, the wonderful fullness, and then they were moving again, not a steady rhythm, but a heedless plunging, impossible to wait, both of them grunting. He saw her in the pool, opening her legs to the patch of hair, where he was now, then he didn’t see anything, could only hear her, next to his ear, breathing, then noises, little cries, as exciting as the slick feel of her pushing against him. When she came, a louder cry, broken, like a shuddering, he could feel her grip him inside and he wanted to shout, let something out before he exploded, and then the come shot out of him and he stopped, feeling the last jerks, his whole body emptying, then flooded with relief, inexplicable pleasure. He moved his elbow, fa
lling on her, and it was only then that he felt the sweat, both of them shiny with it.

  When he rolled away, she turned with him and they lay on their sides, heads touching, not saying anything, drained, then her body began to shake, not crying, a trembling.

  “What?” he said quietly, touching her.

  She shook her head. “Nothing. It’s just-to feel something again.” She put her hand on him.

  He took her shoulder, drawing her closer and kissing her. “I’m sorry it was so fast.”

  “No, don’t be sorry.”

  “Next time we won’t have to hurry.”

  She propped herself up, looking down at him.

  “Already a next time. You’re so sure,” she said lazily.

  “Now I know you.”

  “You think that’s true? You sleep with someone and you know her? All those girls before-you knew them? Every one?”

  “I didn’t want to know them.”

  “Just go to bed. Very nice. And now that you’ve seduced me-”

  “Me?”

  She smiled, moving her hand down his chest. “You’re sweaty.”

  He moved his hand up to her breast, running the back along it.

  “Come on,” she said, getting off the bed.

  “How can you move? Where?”

  “Just come.”

  She pulled his hand and he followed, his eyes trailing her white skin, feeling illicit walking naked through the dark house. He put his hand on the smooth flesh of her behind, cupping it, and she laughed, then sprang away, opening the patio door and running across the tiles to the pool, looking over her shoulder once at him before she plunged in. He ran after her, the front of him flapping in the warm night air, then jumped in, too, and swam after her underwater, his testicles floating beneath him, everything free. When he caught up to her, they both rose to the surface.

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” she said, shaking her hair. “I never want to wear clothes again.”

  “All right,” he said, kissing her.

  She laughed. “And you’d like that?”

  She swam a little toward the shallow end so they could hold each other without having to keep afloat in deep water.

  “You know, my father says you can only seduce someone who wants to be seduced. Otherwise it can’t work.”

  “When did he say that?” Ben said, kissing her again.

  “In a story. Die Verfuhrung.”

  “ The Seduction. He wrote a love story?”

  She giggled. “Well, it was about Germany. How the country wanted to be seduced by Hitler. But I think it’s the same with people. Like you,” she said, touching his face.

  “What about you?”

  He drew her against him as they kissed, not playing anymore, aroused again, drawing one leg up around her.

  “Everyone thinks it should be easy in the water,” she said, “but it’s hard. Maybe Esther Williams can.”

  “Who?”

  “You don’t know her? Bathing Beauty? With Cugat? Daniel did some Second Unit work on it.” She stopped, looking away.

  “We didn’t get everything overseas,” he said, trying to glide over it.

  “Maybe it was like this for him,” she said, distracted. “With the others. All like me. So now I’m one of them.”

  He let his leg drop, freeing her below, then turned her head with his fingers. “I’m not him.”

  She glanced up and moved her shoulder. “And you don’t love me, either. So that’s the same anyway. But I know it. So nobody gets hurt.”

  “Nobody gets hurt.” Not wanting to go further, coaxing her back.

  “Someone you meet at a party. Why not her?”

  “Is that what it feels like to you?”

  She looked at him for a second, her eyes opening wider, then pulled him closer, leaning her head into his.

  “Make love to me,” she said, her voice quick and raspy.

  He glanced over the side of the pool. “The chaise,” he said, kissing her.

  “Yes, on the chaise,” she said, amused. “Like an odalisque.” She took his hand, urgent again, leading him up the shallow steps, shivering a little as the breeze touched them.

  He held her to him, his body a blanket, then lay down next to her.

  “Now you seduce me,” she said.

  “You have to want me to,” he said, stroking her. “That’s how it works.”

  She pulled herself up, her wet hair falling on him, then took his penis into her, straddling him. She closed her eyes, just feeling him there for a second, then slowly sat up, moving just a little, looking down on him. “This time we don’t have to hurry.”

  This time it was slow enough to feel everything, every part, until they came again, gasping, and then fell back together, not talking, just breathing. Ben could see the city lights in the distance, hear the palm fronds overhead clicking in the soft air, the sound of paradise.

  After a while it turned cooler, and he went over to the changing cabana and brought back two robes. She wrapped herself in one and reached for a cigarette pack on the table, then crunched it up.

  “There are more in the house,” she said. “Can I get you anything? A drink?”

  He shook his head, then raised the back of the chaise to sit upright. He watched her go in, a blur of white through half-closed eyes, and leaned back, smelling the night flowers. A light went on in the house. In a minute, he knew, his body would start to go limp and he’d drift, the animal languor that came after sex. Everything else could wait until tomorrow-what had happened, what it would mean. Now there was just this.

  “Ben.” She was back at the door, her body tense, voice nervous. She waved him toward her, as if she were afraid of being overheard.

  He crossed the patio, tilting his head in a question.

  “Somebody’s been in the house,” she said, keeping her voice low.

  “What?”

  “In the office. Things were different. Moved. I could tell.” She put her hand on his arm. “Maybe they’re still here.” Her eyes darting, upset.

  “You’re sure? You didn’t lock the doors?”

  “Of course I locked the doors. This one, too,” she said, nodding to the patio door. “Sometimes Iris forgets.”

  He looked down at the door handle. No scratches or chipped paint, but an easy lock, he guessed, for someone who knew how.

  “What if they’re still here, ” she said, gripping his arm tighter.

  “Calm down. There’s no one here.” He thought of them on the bed, grunting, someone watching-but they would have felt that, sensed anyone’s presence, wouldn’t they? “I’ll walk through.” He flicked on a light. “Is anything missing?”

  “I don’t know. I just went to the study, for cigarettes.”

  “What was moved?”

  “Little things. On the desk.”

  “Maybe Iris-”

  “No. It didn’t seem right. I could feel it.”

  “Another feeling?”

  “Don’t laugh at me,” she said, almost snapping. “Someone was here. In the house.” She clutched the top of her robe tighter, her voice rising a pitch.

  “All right, I’ll look. Where do you keep your valuables?”

  She looked at him blankly.

  “Jewels,” he said. “Cash.”

  “Jewels? Just the pearls-in the bedroom.”

  But the bedroom was untouched, except for the bed, the spread twisted and still damp from sex. Nobody had taken anything from the bureau drawer, the velvet box with earrings and a clip. There was still money under the handkerchiefs.

  He went through the rest of the house, turning on lights, Liesl close to him, still anxious, fear bobbing just beneath the surface. Not just an intruder, a more general violation.

  “Ever have any trouble before?” Ben said.

  “No, it was safe. I was safe here.”

  “You’re still safe,” he said, taking her by the shoulders. “Stop.”

  “You don’t know what it’s like,” she said, not really he
aring him. “Every knock. Always looking back. I thought it was different here.”

  “Liesl, nothing’s missing. So, just in here?” he said, turning in to the study.

  She nodded. “The desk. Somebody went through the desk.”

  “How do you know?”

  “It’s different. Look at the blotter-see the one end out? To look under. See for yourself. You know his drawers.”

  She picked up the cigarettes, lighting one now, her hand shaking, then stood watching him go through the drawer. Everything seemed the same. Until the second drawer, the folders of personal papers. The police accident report, jammed at the end, not where he’d put it.

  “What?” she said, seeing him hesitate.

  “Something’s out of place.”

  He went through the envelope, flipping through the photos.

  “Everything’s here. Probably where I put it, just looked different.”

  “No, you noticed.”

  “Liesl, why would someone break into the house and not take money-anything-just go through a desk?”

  “His desk.”

  “All right, his desk.”

  She inhaled smoke, then folded her arms across her chest, holding herself in. “It’s what you said. I didn’t believe you. Why would anybody do that? I thought it was just your way of-” She broke off, hearing herself, racing. “But it’s true, isn’t it? Maybe I always knew it. That he wouldn’t. I didn’t want to be afraid. And now they’re in my house. Somebody killed him and they’re still not finished. What do they want?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, coming over to her.

  “Maybe they think I have it-whatever they want.”

  “They didn’t go through your things. Just his.”

  “I can’t stay here. Listening. Any noise. I’ll go to my father’s.”

  He took her by the shoulders, as if he were holding her down before she could fly away.

  “I’m here. You’re just nervous, that’s all. I’ll be right next to you. All night.”

  “Oh, next to me, and what will Iris think?” An automatic response.

  He smiled at her. “The worst, probably.”

  “How can you joke?”

  “I’ll check the doors. Nothing is going to happen to you. I promise.” He kissed her forehead. “If you’re worried about the house, I’ll talk to somebody. Make it safe.”