by Marilyn Kaye
‘I’m in New York, it’s a long story. But I need to get out of here. I left Ron, you know.’
‘Yes, I know. He called me two months ago, looking for you.’
‘Well, I think he may know I’m here, in New York, and I’m afraid he’ll be coming after me.’
There was a moment of silence and then her father said, ‘That’s not going to happen, Donna.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because Ron is dead. He was killed in a car accident. He was driving drunk.’
After a moment of silence he asked, ‘Donna? Are you still there? Have we been disconnected?’
‘No, I’m here.’ Her head was spinning. Had she ever loved Ron? She’d made love with him, she’d almost had his baby. Was it shameful for her to now be feeling an enormous wave of relief?
‘About the money …’ her father began.
She was grateful for the change of subject. ‘I can stay here in New York and start looking for a job,’ she said. ‘I just need enough to get through a few weeks until I find something.’
He mentioned a sum of money that she thought was more than generous and told her he could wire it to a Western Union office in New York.
‘Thank you,’ she said softly. ‘How are the kids?’
‘Doing well,’ he told her. ‘They ask about you. Maybe, once you’re settled and in a job, you could come out and visit. I could help with the airfare.’
He was trying to make amends for not having been there for her, she could see that. And although at an earlier date she would have rejected these efforts, now she actually sensed in herself the ability to forgive, and move on.
‘Maybe,’ she said cautiously. ‘I’ll write you with my new address.’
After hanging up the phone she stood there for a moment and tried to absorb all the news. Then she remembered David Barnes. She still didn’t know why he’d come looking for her.
He was still there, waiting patiently in the lobby.
‘I was worried when you didn’t come in this morning,’ he told her. ‘I was afraid you were leaving early to go home. I’ve got an offer for you.’
She looked at him blankly and repeated his words. ‘An offer?’
‘A couple of weeks ago I asked the personnel department if I could get approval for a new position. And this morning I got their answer. I can offer you a job at Gloss, to work as my assistant. Are you interested?’
Would her head ever stop spinning today? How many emotions had overwhelmed her in the past hour? Fear, relief, shock, gratitude … and now this. But at least this news could be met with a single word.
‘Yes.’
Never in a million years did Allison think she’d be spending her last night in New York at the Copacabana nightclub. She was surrounded by rich people, ostentatious decor, ridiculously expensive food and drink, everything she despised.
But she couldn’t say she was miserable. She was with friends, and she wasn’t in jail.
The friends were certainly far from miserable.
Sherry was looking around with avid interest. Donna was clearly in awe.
‘I’ve never been in a place like this before,’ she murmured. ‘Do I look OK?’
‘More than OK,’ Allison assured her. Donna had gone through a complete metamorphosis. With some of the money her father had sent, she’d bought some clothes and she’d had her scraggly hair cut. Tonight she was wearing a straight, fitted sheath in sunny yellow that brought out unexpected gold highlights in her now fashionable brunette flip. But the greatest change of all came from her demeanour. She was talking, she was smiling, and she no longer had the expression of a scared rabbit. And she was clearly thrilled to be at a famous nightclub.
Allison had been a little worried about bringing Pamela here. The last time her roommate had been in the Copacabana, it was with that jerk Alex Parker.
But Pamela wasn’t showing any grief. In fact, it was hard for Allison to believe this was the same girl who’d sobbed for hours in their room less than a week ago, and wouldn’t go back to Gloss the next morning. Allison had assumed she’d planned to spend the day crying in bed. But she’d been wrong. When Allison returned from Gloss at six, she found that Pamela had spent the day in a beauty parlour, getting her hair dyed back to platinum blonde. She’d also taken all the clothes Alex had bought her to a consignment shop and traded them in for the tight orange pencil skirt and the very tight jersey top in hot pink that she was wearing tonight.
She was probably still harbouring some sad feelings, Allison thought. But on the surface, Pamela had bounced back.
Even Sherry was looking at her with approval. ‘You look great, Pamela. That Gloss makeover was never right for you — I can see that now.’
Pamela nodded in agreement, and then, for a brief moment, a wistful look crossed her face. ‘It’s funny, in a way. If I hadn’t had that makeover, Alex would never have noticed me. And I wouldn’t have gotten myself in that mess.’
‘Oh, I don’t blame you,’ Sherry said quickly. ‘It was all his fault. He took advantage of you.’
Pamela shrugged. ‘Maybe. But I was looking for trouble. Remember how I said I wanted a sugar daddy who would take me to fancy places?’
Allison remembered. ‘Yeah, you really were an idiot,’ she said cheerfully.
Pamela grinned. ‘Look who’s talking. At least I got to go to some great restaurants. You ended up in jail.’
Sherry sighed. ‘I guess none of us were too successful, romantically speaking. I mean, look at me and Mike.’
Allison looked at her curiously. ‘Why did you two break up? I never heard the whole story.’
‘He was searching for a muse and I was searching for a husband,’ Sherry replied.
‘Are you still?’ Allison asked. ‘Searching for a husband?’
Sherry looked thoughtful. ‘Not at the moment,’ she said finally.
‘Good,’ Donna said. ‘Because they’re not all they’re cracked up to be.’
The others gazed at her respectfully. Now that they all knew about Donna’s past, they could understand why the girl had seemed so odd. And now the girl who wasn’t even supposed to have been there for an internship, who hadn’t shown any interest in the magazine, was actually going to be working there.
‘What about your new love?’ Sherry asked Allison. ‘You think there’s a future?’
Before Allison could respond, a waiter rolling a cart appeared at their table. On the cart lay a bucket filled with ice and a bottle of champagne.
‘Compliments of Mr Bobby Dale,’ he announced.
As her friends gasped in unison, and the waiter placed special champagne glasses on the table, Sherry’s question rang in Allison’s ears. A future with Bobby Dale? It was hard to say. But thinking back to the past week, she had to admit to herself that she wouldn’t write off the notion.
When she’d called him from the police station, he didn’t ask a million questions. He sent his lawyer there, and the lawyer had arranged bail. By the next day, the police had interviewed the others who had been in the basement, and one of the girls admitted that she had seen Sam put the bag of marijuana in Allison’s purse.
She and Bobby had been together almost every evening since then, at his grandmother’s house in Queens. Of course, she’d been enormously grateful to him, but she’d been a little worried that he’d expect a real show of appreciation — a physical one. But even when his grandmother wasn’t around, he’d been totally respectful. They’d talked a lot — about their lives, families, their hopes and dreams.
Each night, as he put her in the cab to take her back to the Cavendish, he’d kissed her. And each night, the kisses became longer and more intense. But it wasn’t until last night that things began to happen.
She’d told him all about Sam. Then he told her all about a girl in Los Angeles. He’d thought they were in love, until he realized she was just using him to get into the music business herself. They’d talked about what fools they’d both been. They’d ended up
in each other’s arms, at first murmuring words of comfort, then moving on to other words, then moving on to silence.
It was nothing like her make-out sessions with Sam. Every touch, every caress, went way beyond anything she’d felt with Sam. With Bobby, it wasn’t just electricity. He made her heart sing. And her body yearn for more.
The pop of the champagne bottle brought her out of her reverie, and she was startled by the way the other girls were grinning at her. Everything she’d been thinking about must have shown on her face.
‘Yes, I’d say there’s definitely a future,’ Pamela declared.
‘Well, not right away,’ Allison said. ‘He’s leaving tomorrow to go on tour.’
‘Will he be coming back to New York soon?’ Donna asked.
‘Maybe. But I won’t be here.’
The others looked surprised. ‘I thought you were always planning to stay in New York after the internship,’ Sherry said.
Allison was almost embarrassed to tell them her new plan. ‘Well, I started thinking about how maybe I’m not really ready for that. I mean, I’ve been pretty naive about the world, right?’
She was a little annoyed by how fervently they nodded in agreement, but she couldn’t really blame them. ‘Anyway, I hate to give in to my parents, but … I’ve decided to go back to Boston. I’m enrolling at Radcliffe next week. I’m going to be a college girl, just like Sherry.’
Sherry bit her lip. ‘Actually … my plans have changed too. I’m not going to be a college girl. Not this fall, at least. Caroline offered me a job at Gloss, and I’m going to take it.’
‘This is incredible,’ Allison exclaimed. ‘Look at how we’ve all changed! Donna was a runaway. Sherry was the good girl who did what she was supposed to do. I was the rebel. And now, we’re all — well, not who we were.’
‘But you’re still wearing black,’ Sherry pointed out.
Allison laughed. ‘I still love the beatnik look. But I know I’m different inside. We all are.’
‘Except for me,’ Pamela interjected. ‘I’m going to do exactly what I’d planned to do when the internship was over. I’m going to secretarial school.’
‘But you’ve changed too,’ Sherry said quietly. ‘Maybe even more then the rest of us.’
Pamela was silent for a moment. ‘Yeah, maybe you’re right. I may not be much older, but I’m definitely wiser.’
The waiter had finished pouring the champagne, and Sherry held up her glass. ‘We should make a toast. To us?’
‘To Bobby Dale?’ Donna suggested. ‘It was awfully nice of him to give Allison tickets for all of us.’
‘To changes,’ Allison said. ‘To growing up.’
‘To all of the above,’ Pamela declared. And they clinked their glasses.
The lights went down, and a voice from somewhere echoed across the packed room.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, the Copacabana is proud to present the sensational Bobby Dale!’
There was massive applause, a few whistles, and a couple of squeals as the lights came up over the band and Bobby ran out on the stage.
‘He’s really cute,’ Sherry whispered in Allison’s ear.
There was no denying that, Allison thought. Not her type, of course. Too clean-cut, too classically handsome, too normal. But even so, a little shiver went up her spine.
The band struck up the opening to Bobby’s latest hit, ‘Let Me Love You’, and the crowd went wild. It was odd, Allison thought — she’d heard that song a million times, it was always on the radio, and she’d chalked it up as typical teen drivel. But it sounded better to her now. Maybe it was just that Bobby’s voice live was clear as a bell, sweet and full of feeling. The lyrics were still pretty silly; but he invested them with what sounded like real emotion. Or maybe it was because he made eye contact with her, and she swore she saw him wink.
From there, he went right into more hits, and thirty minutes flew by. Then, just before he took his break, he spoke to the audience.
‘You all know me as a rock and roll singer,’ he said. ‘But I’d like my fans to know there are other kinds of music out there. And I’d like to close this half of the show with a very special song, written by Pete Seeger, one of America’s great folk singers.’
Allison had heard of Pete Seeger, of course, though she couldn’t recall any particular song of his. But she recognized this one immediately.
‘To everything, turn, turn, turn, there is a season, turn, turn, turn …’
If there was any last little spark inside her, one that still bore a fond memory of Sam, it flickered and went out. He really was one-hundred-percent fraud.
For some bizarre reason, an image of her mother came to mind. She had this annoying habit of tossing out proverbs and so-called ‘words of wisdom’ at every opportunity and whenever she wanted to teach Allison a lesson about appropriate manners and morals. One of the woman’s favourites was ‘You can’t judge a book by its cover.’
So corny. But for once Allison had to admit there just might be a tiny element of truth to it. Sam, the beatnik, the non-conformist, the rebel — he was a total phony. Bobby Dale, the pop star, the teen idol, was — well, she wasn’t completely sure what he was yet. But she definitely wanted to know more.
And Boston was one of the cities on his tour.
On Monday morning, 9 September, Sherry took her seat behind her new desk, which was identical to her old desk. The only difference was the location — she was now at the other end of the bullpen, just outside the office of the managing editor.
This desk too held a typewriter, a phone, in- and out-boxes, a Rolodex and a jar holding a variety of pens and pencils in different colours. But something new was about to be added.
‘Mail,’ came the call from the boy in an oversized Hartnell jacket who pushed the cart. It wasn’t Mike of course. Mike had left his summer job in the mailroom right around the same time the internships had finished. This new, sandy-haired, gangly boy paused by Sherry’s desk.
‘I guess this is for you, right?’ he asked, offering her an oblong metal object.
‘Thank you, Larry.’ She took the nameplate and examined the white letters on the black background. S. A. FORRESTER, EDITORIAL ASSISTANT. Then she placed it on the far right corner of the desk, with the name facing outward.
Stopping at her desk, George Simpson didn’t notice it.
‘I need to have these letters typed,’ he told her. At that very moment Caroline Davison came out of her office and overheard him.
‘I’m sorry, George, the interns have left. Didn’t you get my announcement memo? Sherry is on staff now. You’ll have to give those to your own secretary.’
His brow furrowed and he didn’t look happy. There was no ‘Congratulations’ or ‘Welcome to Gloss’, but at least he turned and strode away. That was enough for Sherry, and she smiled at Caroline.
Caroline smiled back, and she noticed Sherry’s nameplate. ‘Well, you’re official now. How does it feel?’
How could she possibly describe the feelings she’d been having for over a week now? Besides, she was a working girl now. There was no time for chit-chat.
‘Fine,’ was all she said, and Caroline gave her a brisk, pleased nod. Then she dropped some folders into Sherry’s in-box.
‘This is the last of the unsolicited article submissions. I can’t believe you’ve managed to get through them so quickly. You’re going to be a real asset, Sherry.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ Sherry replied.
Caroline gave her another nod and a smile and moved on.
Sherry took the top folder and opened it. It was so hard to believe it had only been a week since she became S. A. Forrester, editorial assistant. A week that had started with bidding farewell to new friends, exchanging addresses and promises to stay in touch. Then filling out countless forms — personnel, tax, social security, all the stuff that would turn her into a real working girl. And then there were the hysterical phone calls from her parents, the letters she had to write to friends an
d to the college she wouldn’t be attending. Not this fall at least. Maybe not ever. When she was ready to go to university, she’d find one with a journalism department. Right now, she was exactly where she wanted to be.
When Caroline had made the offer on the last day of the internship, to stay here at Gloss and work full-time, she’d been stunned by how easily she’d said yes. The managing editor then called the Cavendish Residence and pulled some strings. She and Donna could stay in their room for another six months.
Of course they’d have to pay for the room now, but they both had salaries. And during the six months they’d be very careful and save money, so they could afford a small apartment to rent together. Donna used the money her father sent to buy a small TV for the room, and Sherry had come up with enough cash for a hotplate, so they could boil water for coffee and tea. She felt reasonably sure that eventually Mama would come around to accepting her decision, and she’d send Sherry her things from home.
She was halfway through the stack of files when the phone on her desk rang, for the very first time. Feeling terribly important, she lifted the receiver.
‘Sherry Forrester.’
There was a moment of silence before she heard a voice.
‘Hey, Sherry.’
It had been a while, over two months, but she recognized the voice immediately.
‘Johnny?’
‘Yeah, it’s me. How are you?’
‘Fine,’ she replied automatically. ‘How are you?’
‘Fine. I’m in New York.’
‘Really? What are you doing here?’
He didn’t answer the question. ‘Um, could we meet?’
‘Now?’ She glanced at the clock on the wall.
‘Well, sometime today?’
‘I’ve got a lunch break at noon. We could meet then.’
‘OK.’
She gave him the name and address of a coffee shop nearby on Madison. Hanging up, she stared at the phone for a minute. She supposed she shouldn’t be so surprised to hear from him. Mama would try anything to get her back home.
An hour later she stuck her head around Caroline’s door and told her she was going to lunch. She was running a little late, but she still couldn’t resist taking a moment to duck into a restroom and check out her reflection. In her own eyes she looked just as she had two months ago. Her light brown hair was still in its chin-length flip and she was still wearing the same shade of pink lipstick. The dress she was wearing was something she’d worn back in high school. Johnny would see the same girl he’d known for so long. Even if she wasn’t.