"But that's not true! Oh, she might have to take things easy for a few months, but she'll live a long life."
"You just said it all."
"I don't imderstand."
"She'll live a long, frightened, inactive life. She'll be discharged from the hospital tomorrow. And she's already hired a nurse who will give her shots and 'borrowed' Debbie Morrow's yacht. She wants a month of rest and she loves the water."
"But that's marvelous."
"It's not marvelous. She insists that I go with her/'
Dolores tried to hold back the tears.
Barry paced the room. "She's even talked with the head of my law firm. They insist I go with her. ' There's no way out. It's so ridiculous. As you said, diabetes isn't something you look forward to . . . but it's not cancer. And high blood pressure can be controlled. But I guess it's because she's always been so healthy that she's frightened. Dolores, I have to go with her."
"A month," Dolores said quietly.
"An age ..." he said.
She climg to him. "You've got to go, Barry. I imderstand. And a month isn't forever. Look, when you get back, the trees will be green ... it will be May . . . we'll have May together in New York . . ." She turned away. She didn't want him to see the tears in her eyes.
He walked to the door. She turned and rushed after him. "She's still in the hospital. Can't you stay tonight?"
"No, I've got to have dinner with her. Then I've got to pack and see to it that her maid packs for her . . . she wants to leave tomorrow."
"Tomorrow! Is she well enough?"
"The doctors recommend it. They don't want her to get mentally depressed too. And she is going through the change. So we leave for Palm Beach where the boat is docked tomorrow."
'Try and write."
"I'll do better. Ill phone from every port we stop at ... I hope Debbie comes along. That will take some of the pressure off me."
"Debbie?"
"Debbie Morrow, the woman who owns the boat."
Dolores managed a smile. "I know Debbie. She must be fifty-five. It soimds fimny for a woman that age to be called by such a childish
name."
"Debbie also has over fifty million and it's her yacht and it's called Debbie, too. I guess when you have that kind of money you can be called Debbie imtil you're ninety if you want it that way."
"Where did Debbie get her money?"
"It's old money, darling . . . and she married old money and he died and left her even more." Suddenly he grabbed her. "Why are two beautiful people like us poor?"
"Because Debbie and Constance need their money ... we just need each other."
That Certain Something
He called at least once a week but Ker loneliness without him was almost unbearable. She took bike rides in the park with the children and the Secret Service men. Photographers were always parked outside the River View House. She pretended to ignore them, but she didn't mind. Her publicity had been flagging lately ... she had made the cover of only one movie magazine this month . . . an opening at Lincoln Center she had been to with Michael (Eddie Harris was going with a new yoxmg English superstar). And Michael had said Joyce was beginning to kick about his trips to New York, making odd accusations. That night he had come back to her apartment to talk to her.
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''I want to take you to the opening of Hattie tomorrow night/' he said as he poured himself a brandy.
She stared out at the East River. "Well make all the newspapers and you said Joyce was beginning to kick about all your trips to New York."
"Oh, she doesn't worry about you. Fxmny . . . Joyce is the complete opposite of you in looks. I mean she's tiny . . . outgoing . . . gregarious. She's into every charity . . . has unbelievable energy .. s yet she considers you no rival."
"Then what is it?"
"She senses something. She's very intuitive."
Dolores turned her back and fiddled with the air conditioner. "It is warm in here. Why is it they never start the air conditioning tmtil the middle of May? This has been an unseasonably hot April." She was stalling for time. Michael was very handsome, but he was totally void of sex appeal as far as she was concerned. But she needed Michael. She needed him to take her out occasionally. Eddie Harris was gone now ... the Supreme Court Judge was so dreary and she no longer made news with him . . . but she knew there were murmurs about her and Michael and as dull as he was, God, he was handsome and they looked so brilliant together. And as long as there were rumors about her and Michael it would throw everyone off the track about Barry. Barry! Just thinking about him made her feel almost lightheaded. He'd be back in
less than ten days ... to feel his arms around her ... to kiss him deeply . . . the way she had never really been able to kiss Jimmy or any man . . . did people realize a deep kiss could be closer than actual intercourse?
"Dolores, stop trying to make the air conditioner work, ril open the windows if you like, but it's really quite pleasant in here."
She turned and looked at Michael. He was sitting in Barry's favorite chair. If she had to go to bed with him occasionally to hold him . . . No! She couldn't.
"Dolores, will you settle down. I want to talk to you."
"I've got to go in and see if the children are all right."
"For God's sake, they're not babies. It's not as if you have to 'turn' them in a crib. Mary Lou is enormous and the twins are strapping young boys."
She sat on the edge of the couch. "I don't think we should go to the opening of Hattie tomorrow. It's going to be a tremendous opening. Jime Ames has already had sensational publicity. She's broken every rule. That seems to be the consensus of all the press. I mean, when you're one of the most beautiful young movie stars and a big box office attraction, you don't take chances doing a Broadway musical, do you? One of the newscasters on TV did a big story on this just the
other night. You know . . . the idea that she has everything to lose, and nothing to gain. She'll never convince the critics that she's anything more than just a beautiful face."
''Why are you rambling on like this when you know I want to talk to you?" He was visibly annoyed. "I want to talk to you about something serious. And how come you are so well informed about the career of June Ames?"
"I read all the fan magazines to keep up witK my own publicity," she said impishly. "And I do listen to television and read all the newspapers. There isn't very much else I can do to fill my time."
"What about girlfriends? Joyce has loads of them. And charities?"
"Joyce is a Senator's wife and lives in Washington. I am—"
"Queen Victoria. Only a beautiful one."
"Well, you've got to say that all the newspapers call me mysterious, beautiful, charismatic ..."
He stared at her for a moment. "I think you actually believe all the junk that's written about you."
"I wish I did," she said slowly.
"You are beautiful."
"Nita is far more beautiful."
"Yes, she is. And I'm better-looking than Jimmy. But he had that certain something that
turned people on. Even when we were both in the Senate together . . . when he stood up ... he had a presence. And you've got it, too. Nita hasn't."
"Look, Michael . . ." She knew he was about to confess his love for her and somehow she had to stop him. "We can't go to Hattie together. You know as well as I do there are slight innuendos about us . . . nothing could be further from the truth . . . but if we appeared together . . . two nights in a row ..."
"That's just it! I want them to think that . . . I want Joyce to think that..."
"Are you mad?"
"No ... I have my reasons."
"Don't you think you ought to tell me?"
He looked down at the floor. "Okay," he said quietly. "For two years I've been having an affair with Jime Ames."
For a moment Dolores couldn't speak. The whole thing was so incredible.
"Why do you think I make it a point to be seen with you at least once a month? Y
ou're my red herring. I've just put our oldest son into military school in Connecticut so I'll always have that as an excuse to come here. And a guy I went to school with is co-producer of Hattie . . . Colin Wright. I put up twenty-five thousand dollars in a corporate name, Joyce knows I'm friendly with CoKn. We've had him to the house before, when he
had shows trying out in Washington. So Colin will always beard for us if June and I are seen in public .. . and I've always got you once a month . . . and if I come here and am seen with Colin, Joyce won't have a glimmer or even put up an argimient. Just as long as I'm not with you. Shell raise hell after tomorrow about you if we go to see Hattie together."
"Only we're not going to see Hattie together/' she said sweetly.
He stood up and grabbed her by the shoulders. "You cold bitch. You've never loved anyone but yourself. You never loved my brother. I was crazy to tell you this ... to expect you to imderstand. When Jimmy used to tell me about his extracurricular interests, I'd give him hell . . . tell him how beautiful you were . . . and he'd say, 'But Mike, she just tolerates me in bed!' Well, now I believe him. You wouldn't know what it is to love ... to physically long for someone. The trips I've made to the Coast. . . thank God my sister is married to a doctor out there and the marriage is rocky. I've used that as an excuse to go out there. You're damned right that Jime has placed her career on the line. And do you know why? Because she loves me. She loves me enough to take a chance with that brilliant career even though she knows there's no chance of a divorce. But she's playing the long shot that the show will make it and this way there won't be three thousand miles between
us. ril be able to come in every week. I can even fly in on the shuttle for the day . . . and get back in time for dinner with Joyce. I'd do that . . . but you wouldn't understand that kind of love. You'd think it was cheap. Without a wedding ring, there is no such thing as love with you."
"Michael—" she broke away from him. "I do understand how you feel. And if you and this girl find some kind of happiness together it's wonderful ... as long as no one else is hurt. But you are tossing me to the lions to make this affair less complicated. Not only will Joyce hate me . . . but the press will make veiled remarks. My children go to school . . . they'll hear things other children will repeat that they hear from their mothers . . ."
"Dolores, if you just go tomorrow night, I'll never ask you for another favor."
"What about Joyce? How come she's not eager to come in for the opening?"
"She saw it with me when it tried out in Washington. She even came back and met June, and the four of us—Colin, June and Joyce and I— had supper together. It made all the Washington papers. People think Colin and Jime are having a romance. Joyce bought it."
"How does Colin feel about being the beard?"
"He adores it. He's gay . . . lives with a set designer . . . loves the image of a sex queen like Jime being 'in love' with him. And they're good friends."
"What makes you think Joyce won't come in when you visit your son at school?"
"Because she's fom: months pregnant and she lost the last one. The doctor told her she needs a lot of bed rest."
"You've got everything planned, haven't you?"
"Everything except the notices. They could be rotten. It would kill Jxme . .. then she'd go back to the Coast..."
"Is it a good show?"
He shrugged. "I can't tell. I love her so much that just seeing her on stage makes me feel good. It got mixed notices in Washington, but they did a lot of work and then played three weeks in Philadelphia, where the notices were fairly good. Poor Jimie. She'd be playing a show at night, rehearsing new scenes and new songs during the day, putting them in that night. And she's not eighteen!"
"How old is she ... really?"
"Twenty-seven for the press ... actually she's thirty. But she looks twenty-four."
Dolores stared at the floor. "You really love her, don't you?"
"Yes I do, Dolores."
"Would you give up your religion and get a divorce for her?"
"I'd give up everything for her. But Joyce would never divorce me . . . never. She's like
Bridget. They go to Mass together ahnost every day. I mean . . . they believe in it all."
'T)on't you?"
"I do . . . but I don't think God would turn me out if I became an Episcopalian. I think he'd turn me out only if I broke Joyce's heart and hurt the kids . . . and that's what divorce would do."
She smiled faintly. "All right, Michael . . . I'll go to Hattie with you tomorrow night."
Notices
She went to Donald Brooks and he created a gown for her . . . made it up that very day. She knew she would get worldwide press on this and she had to look her best. He also made her a fantastic coat to go with it . . . actually he didn't make it ... it was his newest model . . . yet to be shown. And he had the neckline raised . . . and the sleeves adjusted . . . the shoulders of the coat changed . . . fur added to the hem of the coat. "If you lost about ten pounds, I could lend you all my model clothes/' he said.
"Am I fat?" she asked. "No . . . but you're not model-thin." That night she weighed herself. One himdred and twenty-eight! She had gained three poxmds.
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But her figure was in proportion . . . her breasts solid . . . her stomach flat ... it was well distributed . . . and there wasn't a line in her face.
She knew she had never looked as beautiful before. Even Michael gasped when he arrived to pick her up. The hairdresser had worked three hours with a new hairpiece ... no one could detect it ... no one ever had . . . the newspapers always talked about her "lion's mane" . . . and she looked like a lioness tonight. She had used a tan makeup ... a bronze lipstick . . . and the dress was golden beige trimmed with sable.
There was a roar when her car pulled up to the theater. The police whistled for added help . . . the fans screamed . . . the news cameras followed her to her seat. The entire theater was filled with celebrities and well-known fijst nighters. But Dolores got all the attention.
At intermission the police came to escort her to the manager's office. She and Michael had a drink there. Colin popped in and asked everyone how they thought it was going. Everyone seemed hysterically enthusiastic.
The police arrived at her seat right before the final curtain and she and Michael ducked down the aisle while the cast was taking the ntimerous curtain calls. June was taking her fifth solo bow and calling the rest of the cast back to the stage when the manager led Michael and Dolores backstage through a door inside the theater.
They were in the wings as the cast came off. Everyone looked slightly grotesque and fatigued under the heavy makeup. They stopped riveted to the spot when they saw Dolores. She smiled graciously. Jtme came forward and Colin presented her. Dolores stood like royalty and shook hands with every member of the cast.
Then Colin led them to a suite that served as a dressing room for Jxme. She had already taken off all her makeup and Dolores was amazed how beautiful she was "barefaced." There was a small TV set in the sitting room and the maid pointed toward a makeshift bar. Colin mixed martinis. "I know Michael and I go for this. Jime likes vodka and water. What is your preference, Mrs. Ryan?"
"A light Scotch and water."
"Listen," Colin went on. "We've taken the upstairs room at Sardi's for a cast party." He clicked on the TV screen. "The notices will be coming in any second."
"I thought only the Times meant anything," Dolores said.
"Oh, that's the big Daddy, but TV helps. I mean the good critics, not haters and smirkers like that runt on Channel Five. You'd be surprised . . . but the public gets on to them. They say, 'Oh, they hate everything, so I'll see for myself.' But the good TV critics can help. So can the columnists. But with a rave in the Times, you're in I"
"I'll take Dolores home. Do you think it's
safe now ... I mean, has the crowd left?" Michael asked.
Dolores almost dropped her drink. She was looking forward to the party at Sardi's.
"Half of the hard core autograph himters will have already taken their post at Sardi's, to get the celebrities who are coming in. But the press will be watching your limousine."
"Well, let's brave it," Michael said as he finished his drink. "I'll take Dolores home . . . have the limo take me to the hotel . . . shake the press that way. Then I'll slip out and go by foot to Sardi's."
"The press will know you've come to the party," Colin warned. "Maybe if Dolores didn't mind . . . and came for a short time . . ."
"Oh, I wouldn't put her through that," Michael said. "Besides, I can always say that I came back on impulse to sit with my college buddy, Colin Wright, to wait for the notices. They'll buy that." He stood up and walked over to Jime. "I'll see you over there, darling. I know you'll get rave reviews, but no matter what they say, I want you to know you were magnificent."
Dolores saw the girl look into his eyes. And suddenly her heart went out to her, because she could see Jtme Ames really loved Michael and she had no future . . . just as she and Barry were doomed.
She ignored the crowd that almost halted
their car and was very silent on the drive across town.
"You disapprove/' Michael finally said.
"Only because the girl is going to be hurt."
"I love her, Dolores."
"I don't doubt that. But what happens to her? She really loves you. As you said . . . she's thirty. I believe she was divorced."
"A childhood marriage. She was seventeen and singing with a local band in Texas and she married the dnmuner."
"All right. She's not a real actress. I mean she won't last like say a Joan Crawford or Barbara Stanwyck—these women were cJl beautiful glcim-our girls, but they had something to back it up. Your Jime is candy-box pretty but she won't grow into an exciting-looking woman in her forties. She'll be faded, and you'll tire of her . . . and her career will go down the drain."
"Good God, we've gone together for two years. Our love is stronger than ever. Who wants to plan on ten years from now? That's what you probably did with Jimmy. I know what you're like—everything is categorized. Eight years at the White House . . . then perhaps Jimmy would head a legal firm ... a big social life in New York or Washington. But it didn't work out that way, did it? Jimmy was killed. You've hved like a hermit for several years. And now what have you planned? To become a legend? Well, if that gives you any
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