Gloss

by Marilyn Kaye

  For a while, all was well. He rose up in the company, Phyllis had a second child, he was in a position to send them to the country every summer. But one day it wasn’t enough for Phyllis.

  ‘She started meeting people with real money,’ he told her. ‘People with bigger apartments, and country homes. Their kids had nannies and went to private schools. The husbands drove big cars, the wives wore mink coats, and they took holidays in Miami Beach and Las Vegas. She wanted those things too, and she wanted me to get them for her. And when I couldn’t, she made me feel …’ He was struggling for the right words, and Pamela provided them.

  ‘Like you weren’t enough of a man?’

  He nodded.

  Right then and there, she wanted to cry for him. Either that, or find Phyllis and knock some sense into her. Alex was such a lovely man, so handsome and kind and generous. He deserved to be appreciated. He deserved to be loved.

  She could love him.

  They’d kissed again that night, several times. And then, like the perfect gentleman that he was, he brought her back to the Cavendish Residence.

  They’d been together every evening since then, even over the next weekend, because he didn’t go to Long Island. After work she’d dash back to the residence to change her clothes. Alex couldn’t pick her up there — another intern might recognize him — so she’d take a taxi and meet him at the apartment. Sometimes he still took her out to one of the fancy restaurants she’d heard about. But that wasn’t so important to her any more. She was happy to stay at the apartment, where Alex would mix martinis. She’d put potatoes in the oven to bake and fix a salad while he grilled a couple of steaks. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they watched TV. Always they kissed and necked on the couch.

  Tonight was the first night in over a week that he’d taken her out somewhere special. There was a reason for this.

  Earlier that day at Gloss she’d had an inter-office memo from him. Dress up tonight, he’d written. We’re celebrating.

  She was excited, but puzzled too. What were they celebrating? Was it his birthday? No, that wasn’t possible. She’d asked him once what his sign was, and he’d told her Aquarius. That was a winter sign.

  She couldn’t resist indulging in the wildest possible fantasy. Alex had realized he was madly in love with her. He’d told Phyllis he wanted a divorce, and he was going to ask Pamela to marry him. But that was absolutely ridiculous, too far-fetched to even contemplate. It was more likely to be something like his getting a raise in pay, or securing a new account for Gloss.

  Still, she was in high spirits all day, and now, watching Alex quietly speak to a waiter, she wondered when she’d find out what they were celebrating.

  She looked around the room and tried to take mental photographs so she could remember every detail about this place. Way over at a corner table there was a couple who looked like Sandra Dee and Bobby Darin. Was that possible? She’d have to find an excuse to walk around at some point. She could just imagine telling the folks back home that she’d been hobnobbing with movie stars.

  The waiter returned with a bucket, out of which rose a bottle of champagne. Pamela was practically giddy with excitement now. She’d never had champagne before in her life.

  The waiter expertly popped the cork and poured the champagne into tulip-shaped glasses. When he left the table Alex picked up his glass, and Pamela did the same. She started to bring it to her lips, but he shook his head.

  ‘I want to make a toast,’ he said.

  The bubbles from the champagne had tickled her nose, but she resisted the urge to rub it.

  ‘Happy anniversary,’ Alex said.

  She stared at him. ‘Huh?’

  ‘It’s August 10, Pamela. It was exactly one month ago that we had our first drink together. Don’t you remember? Charlie’s, across from the Hartnell building?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Martini,’ he said. ‘Extra dry, with a twist.’

  ‘I can’t believe you even remember what I ordered!’

  ‘I remember everything,’ he said. ‘You’ve made me very happy this month.’

  It wasn’t her wildest fantasy, but it was pretty damned close. ‘You make me very happy too,’ she whispered.

  They clinked their glasses and drank their champagne. Then there was dinner. Alex ordered duck à l’orange, something else she’d never had. Flaming crêpes for dessert. Then there was a show, with dancing girls and a singer she’d actually heard of. And then there was dancing — not the Twist or any of the other new dances, but slow dancing, and Alex had held her close.

  It all passed so quickly, and when she caught a glimpse of Alex’s watch she was shocked.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Alex asked.

  ‘It’s after curfew,’ she told him. ‘And I forgot to ask someone to stick a brick in the back door to hold it open.’

  He smiled. ‘Don’t worry. You won’t be sleeping on the streets.’

  She smiled back. She had a pretty good feeling she’d be seeing that master bedroom tonight. And now, she was ready.

  Donna, I’ll need an exposure meter for this next shoot,’ David Barnes said.

  ‘OK, I’ll get one.’

  ‘And two medium umbrellas,’ he added.

  ‘They’re already set up,’ Donna told him.

  He smiled at her in approval. ‘You learn fast.’

  That was the first time anyone had ever said that to her.

  Was it possible for a person’s entire life to change overnight?

  One day ago, at precisely this hour, she was filing letters in a cabinet and fervently hoping no one would be looking for these letters in the near future. Because, given her reading skills — or lack of them — she was very sure that many of these letters had not been precisely alphabetized.

  Twenty-four hours ago she was a criminal, with a stash of stolen goods under her bed. Technically she’d probably still be considered a criminal, but at least the evidence of her crime was gone.

  Just yesterday she didn’t have a friend in the world. Now she was thinking that maybe she did.

  She still couldn’t believe how Sherry had come through for her — this girl who’d seemed so perfect to Donna, this golden girl who had it all, who seemed to do everything right … a girl who owed Donna absolutely nothing. They’d been roommates for six weeks and Donna had barely spoken to her.

  She hadn’t spoken to anyone, for fear she might reveal something about herself. She wouldn’t have blamed Sherry for despising her, and not just for being so unfriendly. For being what people called ‘trailer trash’. And for being a thief.

  But Sherry had listened to Donna’s story, this wretched tale populated by the kinds of people Sherry would never know, and she hadn’t been repulsed. She not only listened, she offered to help. Having never encountered someone like this in her life … well, it was another first for Donna.

  She’d wondered, the night before, if Sherry had been as frightened as she was when they approached the Hartnell building. She didn’t even know how they’d get in. But because Sherry had been working late several nights recently, the night watchman recognized her. Sherry came up with some cock and bull story about needing some papers for an early-morning meeting. With her sweet face and Southern accent, she charmed the man into letting them in.

  ‘How are we going to get into the closet?’ Donna had wondered when they got off the elevator.

  ‘Caroline keeps a key in her desk drawer,’ Sherry told her.

  ‘But how are we going to get into Caroline’s office?’

  It turned out that Sherry had been doing a lot of work for Caroline, and Caroline was out of the office so much she’d given Sherry a key.

  It all went off without a hitch. The scarf, the sweater, the purse, the red pumps, the bracelets … everything back in its place. Then they’d gone back to the residence and stayed up talking half the night. They talked about their lives, their families, their relationships. Their hopes and dreams. Or lack of them.

 
‘I have to come up with a new plan,’ Donna told Sherry. ‘I think I’ll be OK till the internship is finished. But now I need to think about what I’ll do after that. What are you going to do? Do you have a plan?’

  ‘Oh, I’ve got plans,’ Sherry had replied. ‘I’ve got my whole life planned.’

  ‘Lucky you,’ Donna said.

  Sherry had smiled, but she shook her head. ‘I’m not so sure any more.’

  Donna wanted to ask her more. She wanted to make up for six weeks of loneliness. But by that point they were both exhausted and needed to sleep. Still, at least she’d made a start at friendship, and it felt good.

  And today, only her second day working with David, she thought she just might be making a start towards a future. She was fascinated by his talk of lighting, exposure, composition. And Donna, who’d never been much of a student, was picking it all up and remembering it.

  ‘You know, I think you may have a talent for this,’ he remarked that afternoon. ‘Have you ever thought about a career in photography?’

  She couldn’t tell him she’d never thought about a career in anything.

  ‘Women can do that?’ she asked cautiously.

  ‘Sure, why not? There are plenty of women photographers. In fashion, news, art …’

  ‘How do you become a photographer?’

  ‘Different ways,’ David said. He was adjusting a camera on a tripod at the moment, so he couldn’t see her incredulous expression. ‘Some people study at schools. Others learn by jumping in, learning on the job, working with a photographer …’

  Like she was doing right now, with him.

  ‘Oh, I almost forgot,’ David said. ‘Can you schedule the interns for their shots this week?’

  ‘Their shots?’ She was confused. Were they all going to be inoculated against something?

  ‘For the issue,’ David said. ‘Caroline’s putting the readers’ issue to bed end of next week, and I need to have all the interns’ photos ready.’ He misunderstood Donna’s sudden change of expression and he grinned. ‘Yep, your pretty face is going to be in Gloss, for all the world to see.’

  As the words sunk in, Donna’s head began to spin. Her face. For all the world to see. And Ron was in that world.

  No, Ron didn’t read Gloss. But other people did, and some of those people had to know Ron. And all it would take was one, one person who could show Ron the magazine and say, Hey, isn’t this your wife? The woman who ran away, who cut off your income?

  She made a supreme effort to keep her voice from shaking. ‘David, when will the readers’ issue be on the newsstands?’

  ‘Last day of the month,’ David said. ‘No, wait, that’ll be a Saturday. So it’ll come out on 30 August.’

  30 August. Two weeks from now. How long would it take Ron to get himself to New York to start looking for her?

  It was funny in a way. She’d been thinking how amazing it was to have her life change in twenty-four hours, to find herself as close to happiness as she’d ever been. And now, less than an hour later, she was in an even worse place.

  Over her coffee in the Hartnell cafeteria, Allison tried not to appear shocked as she absorbed Pamela’s news.

  ‘You’re living with him?’

  Pamela rolled her eyes. ‘Allison, I haven’t slept in our room for a week. Where did you think I was?’

  ‘I figured you were staying with him,’ Allison admitted. ‘But I didn’t think you’d moved in!’

  Pamela nodded happily. ‘You didn’t notice that all my stuff was gone? I’ll bet you haven’t even missed me. But you have to be happy to have all that closet space.’

  ‘I don’t care about closet space,’ Allison said. ‘Pamela, I hate to remind you, but … he’s married.’

  Sherry arrived at the table. ‘Hi, what’s up?’

  ‘Pamela’s moved in with Alex Parker,’ Allison announced.

  ‘Hey, that’s my news!’ Pamela declared.

  Allison could see the concern on Sherry’s face. ‘Really?’ Sherry sat down. ‘What does his wife have to say about that?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s just what I was wondering,’ Allison said.

  ‘She’s on Long Island, remember. I told you guys that.’

  ‘But just for the summer,’ Allison noted. ‘Which is very soon to be over. He’s got kids, right? School starts just after Labor Day, and that’s just two weeks from now. She’ll be back before then.’

  She wasn’t pleased to see the small smile that crossed Pamela’s face.

  ‘Not necessarily.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Sherry asked.

  ‘They had a big fight at the Hartnell party, and they haven’t seen each other since. Why are you looking at me like that?’

  Sherry seemed upset. ‘I’m just remembering something you said when we first met, about having affairs with married men. You thought it was OK, as long you didn’t take it too seriously. You said you weren’t planning to break up a marriage.’

  Pamela looked down and stirred her coffee. ‘Things have changed.’

  ‘How so?’ Allison wanted to know.

  ‘I’m in love with him.’

  Allison had never seen her roommate look so serious, and she was alarmed. ‘Is he in love with you?’

  ‘He’s crazy about me,’ Pamela said. ‘I make him happy.’

  ‘But is he in love with you?’ Allison pressed.

  Pamela shrugged. ‘It’s the same thing. And hey, since when are you such an authority on love? Has Sam ever said, “I love you”?’

  ‘Not exactly. But that’s different.’

  ‘Yeah? How so? He’s never even given you anything.’

  Allison glared at her. ‘Pamela, true love doesn’t require presents. Sam and I have a deeper connection. I know him. I know about his past, his dreams, his philosophy, and that’s what’s important. Don’t you agree, Sherry?’

  Sherry seemed to be paying undue attention to her food. Allison’s direct question forced her to look up.

  ‘OK, I get that you know Sam,’ she said carefully. ‘But does he know you?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Like, does he know about your family, your problems with them?’

  Allison brushed that side. ‘I don’t want to bore him. That’s not interesting stuff.’

  ‘If he loves you, he’ll find it interesting,’ Sherry said.

  Allison didn’t agree. But glancing at the clock on the wall, she saw she didn’t have time to argue the subject.

  ‘I have to go. I’ve got my interview with Bobby Dale.’ She got up. ‘Talk some sense into my roommate, OK? Moving in with a married man is just not cool.’

  Sherry nodded, but it seemed to Allison that she was distracted, like she had a lot on her mind. How those two had changed, she mused as she hurried back to the office. Sherry, who had looked so confident and self-assured when she first arrived at Gloss. Pamela, who had been so cocky, who was more interested in good times than falling in love. Allison herself was the only one who hadn’t changed, not a bit.

  Back upstairs, she went directly to the entertainment editor’s office to pick up the tape recorder. Peter Connelly was waiting for her.

  ‘Look, there’s been a change,’ he said.

  She groaned. ‘Oh no. Don’t tell me the manager has cancelled again.’ The interview had been postponed twice, and the issue would be closing in just a few days.

  ‘No, no, it’s just a change of venue. There’s a car service waiting for you outside. Just give him this.’ He handed her a slip of paper, along with the tape recorder, and she took off.

  Outside the building, she got into the car and showed the driver the paper.

  ‘I have to take you to Queens?’ he complained.

  ‘I guess,’ Allison replied. She hadn’t even looked at the address.

  Muttering and grumbling, the driver started the engine. Allison reached in her bag and took out the copy of The Free Spirit that Bobby had lent her. She’d just started the chapter called ‘Making Conne
ctions’.

  ‘You go through life trying to connect. We want to make connections that will bring us into a satisfying romantic relationship. We want to make connections that will improve our status in society, that will get us a better job, But we ignore the most important connection we can make.

  Before you connect with anyone else, you have to connect with yourself, with your inner spirit. Until you connect with the inner spirit, you’re no better than a robot, and your life has no meaning.’

  She frowned. Sam had said that too. In fact, she’d found just about all of Sam’s profound comments in this book. In another chapter, Quincy had talked about people living as if they were behind bars, in prison. And elsewhere, he’d talked about how the best education couldn’t be found in universities, but in your own soul. But he’d never even mentioned this book.

  She glanced out the window. They were on 59th Street now, heading east, and she could see that they were approaching a bridge. Closing her eyes, she lay back in her seat and tried to go over the questions she’d be asking Bobby.

  But she found her thoughts kept going back to Sam. And to what she’d just said to Pamela, about the approaching end to the summer. It was something she had to think about too.

  In two weeks the Gloss internship would be finished. She wouldn’t be able to stay any longer at the Cavendish Residence, even if she could talk her parents into footing the bill for a while. She’d been surprised to learn that all the rooms were booked.

  She wasn’t all that disappointed about this. The residence wasn’t the perfect place to live, with all its rules like curfews and no men allowed beyond the lobby. But where could she go if she was planning to stay in New York?

  Maybe, if she could get a job right away, she could rent a room and Sam could crash with her. She smiled as she imagined the reaction of her parents when they learned she was living in sin with an impoverished folk singer.