by Marilyn Kaye
‘Don’t start bringing stuff here, Pamela. You might forget to take it with you.’
‘Take it with me … when?’
‘When you leave.’
She still didn’t understand. ‘Why would I leave?’
‘When the summer’s over, when your internship’s finished. You’ll be going home to New Jersey, won’t you?’
‘Pennsylvania,’ she corrected him automatically.
He went to the liquor cabinet. ‘And you’ll have to be out of here before Phyllis and the kids come back of course.’
‘Phyllis and the kids,’ she repeated faintly.
‘Do you want a martini?’ he asked as he took out a bottle. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. ‘Actually … you’ll have to go back to that residence before that. Phyllis is in town this weekend. We have theatre tickets.’
‘Phyllis … is coming here? But …’
‘But what?’
‘It’s over between you! You don’t get along, you don’t even sleep with her any more — you told me that!’
He still wouldn’t look at her. ‘Look, Pamela … I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. Phyllis and I do fight a lot, but … well, we’ve got kids and all.’
‘But you don’t love her! You love me!’
He finally turned in her direction. ‘I never said that.’
Her heart was beating so fast he thought she might faint. Her eyes went to the bedroom door
He sighed. ‘We were just having fun, Pamela. That’s what you said you wanted, right? See New York, have a little fling …’
‘But I love you,’ she whispered.
He was dropping ice cubes in a glass, and he didn’t say anything. Maybe he hadn’t heard her.
‘I love you!’ she said more loudly. Actually she was speaking a lot more loudly than she meant to. In her own ears it sounded more like a scream. And from the expression on his face, she had a feeling it sounded like that to him too.
Allison had never been so frightened in her life. The police station was like something out of a nightmare. A handcuffed man was shouting incoherently as he was led down the hall. Three scantily clad women were yelling obscenities. Another, older woman was wailing incessantly.
‘You’re making a big mistake,’ Allison kept saying to the policeman who still gripped her arm. ‘The stuff you found in my bag, it isn’t mine!’ The officer didn’t even respond. He led her to a desk, where a bored-looking uniformed man was sitting.
‘Last name.’
‘What?’
‘Give me your last name.’
‘Sanderson.’
‘First name.’
‘Allison.’
‘Date of birth.’
Was she being booked? she thought wildly. Would she be fingerprinted, searched, thrown in a cell? Scenes from TV detective shows came back to her.
‘Hey, don’t I get a phone call?’
‘Date of birth!’ the man demanded.
She told him. The man grimaced.
‘Seventeen, huh?’ He turned to another officer. ‘Take her to make a phone call.’
Another officer took over and led her to an office. He pointed to a phone on the desk. ‘One call. Local, not long distance.’
Allison’s hand trembled as she lifted the receiver. Who was she going to call? Her mind was a blank, she couldn’t even remember the number of the Cavendish Residence, or the payphone on their hall.
Suddenly she remembered a piece of paper in the pocket of her pants. She fished it out and looked at it. No, this was crazy, she barely knew him, why would he help her out?
Then she recalled those bright blue eyes, the dazzling smile, and more than that — the way he’d looked at her when he put her into the taxi. And the way that look made her feel.
She began to dial.
‘Sherry Ann, you’re talking nonsense.’
‘Mama, it’s just an idea. I haven’t decided anything. It’s something I’m thinking about.’
‘Well, you can stop thinking about it right this minute, young lady. We’ve already booked your ticket to Atlanta, and Daddy’s taking the day off to meet you at the airport. Actually I was thinking I’d come with him, and we could have a day of shopping. You still need some things for college, don’t you?’
‘Mama, haven’t you heard a word I said? I might not go to Agnes Scott after all. They don’t have journalism there.’
Her mother went right on as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘And there’s something else, honey. I wasn’t going to tell you this because I didn’t want you to get your hopes up. I ran into Johnny’s mother last week at the beauty parlour. Guess what she told me? Sherry Ann? Are you there?’
Sherry sighed. ‘I don’t want to guess, Mama. Just tell me.’
She couldn’t miss the note of triumph in her mother’s voice. ‘That business in Washington DC, with that … that girl? Well, it’s all over. It was just some silly little fling. And I don’t think she was very nice, if you know what I mean. Now, I know you must still be very angry with him. But you know, sugar, this is how men are. They can be tempted, and some of them stray. That’s just their nature. You can forgive him, can’t you?’
‘Mama, it’s not a question of forgiving …’
But the woman kept right on talking. ‘I have a feeling he’s going to be very happy to see you when you get home. You two will make up, you’ll go to Atlanta in September like you planned, and everything will be just fine.’
‘Mama, you’re not listening to me!’
Just then another voice broke into the conversation. ‘This is your operator speaking.‘I have an emergency call for this line.’ She rattled off the number of the payphone. ‘Will you hang up, please?’
The notion of an emergency wasn’t pleasant, but Sherry was glad to have a reason to end the call. ‘I’ll call you back later, Mama,’ she said, and hung up. She waited by the phone uncertainly.
The phone rang, and she picked it up. ‘Hello?’
A man spoke. ‘I need to speak to Allison Sanderson.’
‘I’ll see if she’s in,’ Sherry said, though she doubted she would be. Allison spent every evening down in the Village. But she ran down the hall and banged on the door. When there was no response she went back to the phone.
‘She’s not in. Can I take a message for her?’
There was a moment of hesitation, and then the man spoke again. ‘Is this one of the Gloss interns?’
‘Yes, this is Sherry Forrester.’
‘Well, this is a little awkward … I have one of your … your colleagues with me, and she’s a little upset.’
Now Sherry could hear someone sobbing in the background.
‘Is this Mr Parker?’ she asked sharply.
He didn’t answer. ‘I’m bringing her over to the Cavendish Residence now, and I was wondering if you or one of the other interns could help her.’
She could feel anger rising in her, but she kept her voice even. ‘I’ll meet you outside.’ She hung up the phone and ran back to her room.
Donna came down to the lobby with her. They stood by the window, and a few minutes later a sedan pulled up to the kerb. Sherry recognized the advertising director at the wheel.
‘Isn’t he going to bring her in?’ Donna wondered when the car just sat there.
‘He’s probably afraid of being seen,’ Sherry said grimly. ‘Come on, let’s go get her.’
They went out to the car. When Alex Parker saw them approaching he got out and looked around, as if he was afraid someone was watching. Then he went around to the passenger side of the car and opened the door. By then the girls were by his side, and they could see Pamela.
She didn’t look like she was crying now, Sherry thought. She looked stunned.
Her face remained blank as she stepped out of the car. Mr Parker went into the back of the car and dragged out a suitcase. Donna took it from him.
‘You’ll get her back to her room?’ the man asked.
‘Yes,’ Sherry said. She put an arm around P
amela. The girl was shivering. She glanced up at Alex with wide eyes.
‘I’ll call you,’ he said, and got back into the car.
‘Don’t bother,’ Sherry whispered as he took off. ‘Come on, Pam.’
They went back into the Cavendish and up the stairs. Sherry fumbled in Pamela’s handbag and found her keys.
Once inside the room, Pamela’s mask came off. She didn’t speak, but tears were streaming down her face. Sherry sat her down on a bed and sat down next to her.
‘I’ll get her some water,’ Donna offered, and went into the bathroom.
Sherry put an arm around Pamela, and the girl leaned on her shoulder. As Sherry murmured soothing words her eyes went to a book on the bedside table. Pamela’s bible, Sex and the Single Girl. With her free hand, Sherry picked it up.
‘Damn you, Helen Gurley Brown,’ she muttered. And she tossed it in the direction of the wastebasket.
When Donna opened her eyes, she didn’t need to check the calendar on the wall to know the date. It had been imprinted on her mind for weeks now. Friday, 30 August. For some, it was the beginning of a weekend. For Donna, it was possibly the end of the world.
Friday, 30 August. The day the special readers’ edition of Gloss arrived in mailboxes and hit newsstands all over America.
It was ironic in a way. She’d managed to get through this entire internship without getting caught as a fraud. Today she should be congratulating herself on her success. Instead she found herself in more danger than she’d been in since she arrived.
She lay in bed and considered the plan that had been evolving in her head since she first learned her picture would appear in the issue. It would mean humbling herself, doing something she’d promised herself she would never do. But it was the only way.
Sherry came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. ‘Morning, sleepyhead,’ she said. ‘The shower’s all yours.’
Donna sat up. ‘I don’t think I’ll be going into the office today.’
Sherry paused in the midst of dressing and looked at her in disbelief. ‘Donna, it’s the last day of the internship! You can’t miss it — there’s going to be a party.’
‘I’m not feeling too good. My stomach’s upset. Maybe it was last night’s meat loaf.’
‘Want me to run to the pharmacy and get you something?’
‘Oh no, that’s OK,’ Donna said quickly. ‘I think I just need to take it easy.’
‘OK.’ Sherry was now preoccupied with the buttoning of her shirtwaist dress. ‘Damn, I’ve put on a couple of pounds. I can’t fasten this middle button.’ She took it off and pulled something else from the closet. ‘Hey, you’re thinner than I am. You could wear that dress.’
Donna was barely listening — her mind was on her plan. But Sherry misunderstood her silence.
‘Look, it’s not charity, Donna. It doesn’t fit me, and I doubt I’ll be losing this weight any time soon. By the time I can get into it, it’ll be out of style.’
Donna managed a half-hearted smile. Her plan for the day already committed her to losing pride. Why not accept Sherry’s offer?
‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘If I feel better later, I’ll wear it to the party.’
As soon as Sherry left, she got out of bed and took a quick shower. When she came out of the bathroom she took a good look at the dress Sherry had left for her. It was really cute, peach-coloured, with a slightly flared skirt and deep pockets. And Donna was so sick of her own two dresses, both of which had been washed so many times they were completely faded. Plus, there was the confidence a nice dress might give her. She’d need all the confidence she could muster for what she was about to do.
The night before, Pamela had distributed a massive pile of make-up samples she’d amassed in her work as the beauty editor’s intern. Donna poked through the tiny lipsticks and miniature eyeshadows, and for the first time that summer she actually applied some make-up. When she finished, she pulled back her long hair and with the help of some bobby pins twisted it into something resembling a chignon.
She had to admit, her reflection pleased her. And it gave her a boost. Stop thinking this is the end of the world, she ordered herself. It’s a new day, a new beginning. A new you.
From the back of her dresser drawer she drew out her secret stash. All summer long she’d picked up coins she spotted on the street, coins she’d found in public telephone boxes. At work David frequently sent her out with money to buy both of them coffees or sodas. She’d buy one for him, and pocket the money her own would have cost.
She had a pile of change now, and it filled the pockets of her dress.
Leaving the room, she went down the hall to the payphone.
She was grateful for the fact that she had a good memory. Months ago, when he came to get Kathy and Billy, her father had told her the name of the company he worked for. It was easy to call four-one-one for the information operator, and she got the phone number.
Inserting more coins, she dialled zero for the regular operator, and placed a long-distance person-to-person call for Martin Peake. She could hear the phone ringing, and the hand that held the receiver began to hurt as the tension filled her.
She knew there was a way people could send money quickly around the country. Just last week, Vicky had run out of money and her family in California managed to get money available for her through Western Union the very same day. She’d ask her father to do the same. She hadn’t taken money from him for almost three months — he owed her. Or he could treat it as a loan, she didn’t care. She just needed enough to get out of New York, fast, before Ron could find out where she was.
Finally she heard a female voice answer the ringing phone with the name of the company her father worked for.
Her operator spoke. ‘I have a person-to-person call for a Mr Martin Peake.’
‘Mr Peake isn’t here at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?’
‘Caller, would you like to leave a message?’ her operator repeated.
‘Yes, would you ask him to call Donna?’ She rattled off the Cavendish Residence number, and hung up.
Now what? She couldn’t go to the dining hall or watch TV in the lounge — she had to stay in her room where she could be found when her father called back.
She tried to amuse herself by poring through the rest of the cosmetic samples, but they weren’t very distracting. There was too much running through her mind. The interns had to be out of the Cavendish by Sunday, so she had to have money by then to buy a bus ticket. But to where? And to do what?
The room intercom buzzed, and she jumped up. Thank goodness, Martin Peake was responding. She rushed to the wall and pressed the button. ‘Yes?’
‘Donna? There’s a gentleman in the lobby who wants to see you.’
Her stomach dropped. How was this possible? Had the magazine come out earlier in the Midwest? Had Ron discovered where she was some other way?
‘Donna? Did you hear me?’ the receptionist enquired.
‘Oh, yes. I’ll be right down.’
She lifted her shaking finger from the button and tried to stop the panic from totally overwhelming her. She couldn’t think — but she had to think. Taking deep breaths, she considered her options.
The building had a back door — but the only way out to the street from there meant going around to the front of the building, and anyone in the lobby could see her through the window.
Window … the window in the bedroom looked out on to a side alley. And there was a fire escape.
Tossing her things into her backpack, she put it on over her shoulders and went to the window. The Cavendish was air-conditioned, and the window hadn’t been opened all summer. It took some effort to unfasten the latch that held it closed, and pull it open. Then she perched on the sill, swung her legs over the ledge and settled them on to the metal steps.
Slowly, clinging to the sticky, dirty handrail, she made her way down the stairs. Only the fire escape didn’t go all the way to the ground. It ended around the top o
f the first floor, and she had to jump the rest of the way. She landed on her rear end.
Her first reaction was relief that she’d made it without injury. Her second thought was for the pretty dress that surely had to be smudged now. And her third sensation was shock — to see David Barnes standing at the end of the alley, just a few yards away, staring at her in disbelief.
He strode forward. ‘Are you OK?’
She stood up and made a futile attempt to brush the dirt off her dress. ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’
He shook his head in bewilderment. ‘What were you doing?’
It was amazing, how quickly she was able to fabricate an excuse. ‘Um, my door was stuck.’ And before he could question that, she came up with her own demand. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Looking for you. I was waiting in the lobby, and then I saw you coming down the fire escape.’
Funny how she’d never noticed that one of the lobby windows faced the alley.
‘Can we go inside?’ he asked, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. ‘It’s hot out here. You’ll want to wash your hands, and tell that janitor about the stuck door.’
Now that she realized it hadn’t been Ron who was waiting for her, she agreed. But there was something that still puzzled her.
‘Why did you come looking for me?’ she asked David as they entered the lobby together.
Before he could respond, the receptionist called out to her, ‘Oh, there you are! Donna, you have a phone call. It’s from your father.’
She hesitated. How could she talk to Martin Peake in front of David Barnes? The receptionist must have noticed her discomfort.
‘If you need some privacy, just go pick it up on the hallway phone.’
‘I’ll be right back,’ she told David, and hurried through the swinging doors.
‘Hello?’
‘Hello, Donna, it’s your father, returning your call. How are you?’
‘Fine, thank you,’ she said automatically. And then, ‘No, I’m not fine.’ She decided she might as well get right to the point. ‘I need some money.’
‘Where are you?’ he asked.