Shadow of the Dolls

by Jacqueline Susann

  “Oh, yeah, people say that,” Casey said. She leaned back and adjusted her sunglasses. “I’ve seen the pictures. And there’s a drag queen in Los Angeles who makes a pretty good living out of imitating Jennifer North.”

  “No, not how you look, though I can see the resemblance. I mean, wanting kids so much. That’s all she ever talked about.” Anne took a sip. “Too hot. Anyway. I probably shouldn’t say this, we’ve just met, but I’ll say it anyway. Don’t wait too long. Don’t listen to what people say about your career. If you want a family, have a family.”

  “But you stopped after one.”

  “Long story.”

  “Maybe with Bill. Plenty of women have kids at forty-two now.”

  Anne shook her head. “One is enough.”

  You have to get me more,” Neely said. “You promised me there would be more.” She was up to her shoulders in ginger-scented bubbles, wearing a small black headset. The bathroom was her favorite room in the Malibu house; after the fire she had rebuilt it at twice its original size, annexing a small guest bedroom. The door opened onto a sitting area with two divans, track lighting, and shelving filled with aromatherapy candles. One step up was a marble sink and a five-foot-square shower stall with eight heads set at various heights. Across from the shower was Neely’s vanity; the maid came in every morning to clean her makeup brushes with a special imported soap and to make sure all her cosmetics were arranged by color. Two steps up from that was an enormous bathtub set against a picture window that faced into the canyon. The window was made of chemically coated glass—Neely could see out, but no one could see in—and up above was a skylight of rosetinted glass. Lyon thought the bathroom was slightly ridiculous and never used it. His own bathroom was spartan by comparison, the only extravagance being a heated towel rack that he rarely turned on.

  Six tiny stereo speakers were hung high on the walls, the two-hundred-disk CD changer controlled by a waterproof remote. A mural of vines and flowers was painted across the walls, and the floor was tiled in warm terra-cotta. A feng shui expert had been brought in to make some last-minute additions: a pair of potted palms, a few extra mirrors to circulate the chi, and a painting of two goldfish, for harmony and luck.

  “That’s all you can give me? You gotta be joking,” Neely said. Her voice turned from vinegar to honey. “I know it’s hard right now.… But sweetie, I don’t want to call anyone else, you’re the only one I trust.… No, not the yellow ones, they make my tummy rumble, just the white ones.… You’re the best.…” She looked up from her bath. There was Jenn, standing in the doorway. “Sweetie, I gotta go,” Neely whispered into the headset. “No, don’t call me back. I’ll call you back.”

  Jenn just stood there and stared.

  “How long have you been there, honey,” Neely asked.

  “Long enough.”

  “Did you come for some makeup? You can take whatever you want. You know, you should really knock first. I could have been sitting on the pot.”

  “I know what you’re doing.”

  “I’m just taking a bath, honey. You know how stiff my back gets. There’s nothing like a nice long, hot bath to relax the muscles.” Neely pushed a pile of bubbles over her breasts. “I have some great new ginger bath foam, if you want to try some. You look tense.”

  “I know what I heard.”

  “What, just now? That was the caterer, I was ordering some stuff for this party I’m giving.”

  “What party.”

  “It’s a surprise. For your father. A dinner party, won’t that be nice?”

  “I’m not stupid. I know what’s going on. You’re high.”

  “I am so not high. This is pain medication, honey. I need it for my back.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with your back.”

  “You sound just like your father. And my stupid doctors. What do they know? Not everything shows up on those machines.”

  “I know what I heard.”

  “Oh all right,” Neely said. “So what. It’s none of your business. I wouldn’t expect a kid to understand. You think it’s so easy, what I do? You have no idea how much pressure I’m under. How much everything costs. Who do you think is bringing in all the money around here?”

  “My father makes good money.”

  “Your father makes good money, but he doesn’t make real money. Pass me a towel, will ya? … Thanks. I have a right to privacy, you know. It’s in the Constitution. Are you going to run to your daddy now? Like a little girl? I bet you can’t wait to tell him. You know what you are? You’re a user. You just used me, used my connections for your little modeling career. You don’t really like me, you never did. I wasn’t fooled. Don’t think you can fool Neely O’Hara. You’re using me to get close to Dylan, too. You think I haven’t figured that out? Go on, you go tell Lyon whatever you want. There’s plenty I could tell him, too.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Jenn said.

  “Probably not,” Neely said. She uncapped a jar and began to massage lotion onto her neck. “Who knows. Here, try some of this. It’s the most amazing stuff. An astronaut invented it. So, do we have an understanding?”

  Neely walked toward the door. Jenn took a step back.

  “Because you do not want to fuck with me,” Neely said. She took another step. This time Jenn stood her ground.

  “I’m not going to say anything,” said Jenn, “and it doesn’t have anything to do with my father. He knows what you are. I don’t have to tell him. You know why I’m not going to say anything? Because I don’t give a shit what happens to you. Go ahead and kill yourself. See if I care. See if anyone cares.” She turned and left.

  Neely finished drying herself off. The familiar chills were coming on. She got a fresh towel from the heated rack, but that didn’t help. She was supposed to be on the set in three hours, but she felt as though she were coming down with something—there was that flu going around. And now there was that tightening across her forehead, the beginning of another awful headache. She had to pull herself together; she was late twice last week and people were starting to notice. She counted out the remaining pills: just over a dozen, they wouldn’t last long.

  She snapped a pill in half and took the larger piece. She lit a lavender-scented candle and lay down on the divan. There it was, that lovely feeling … it started in her neck and spread up around the back of her head … everything was fine again … she wasn’t even worried about Jenn anymore … she wasn’t worried about anything at all.…

  She got to the set only twenty minutes late, but they had already started without her. They were shooting the scene where Neely rode out to visit the owner of a neighboring ranch. Her stunt double was on horseback, trotting across a field of low grass.

  “I’ll just be a minute!” Neely called out. She raced to her trailer. She barked at the makeup artist. “Make it quick. And can you do something about these?” She patted the puffy skin under her eyes. “I didn’t sleep so good last night. I think I’m coming down with something.”

  The woman sat there and shrugged.

  “I said move it!” Neely yelled.

  “Whatever,” the woman said. She got out a pan of yellow-toned concealer and slowly brushed the cream around Neely’s eyes.

  One of the producers appeared a few minutes later and sent the woman away. “You can go home, Neely. We’re shooting around you.”

  “What are you talking about? I’ll be ready in a sec.”

  “Look at yourself. You’re a mess. You look like hell.”

  “They can fix that with makeup. I’m just feeling a little under the weather.”

  “I’m not putting you up on a horse. Not in your condition.”

  “But I took all those lessons!” Neely said.

  “And you’re slurring again.”

  “I just need to get warmed up.” She began doing her vocal exercises. “The tip of the tongue, the lips and the teeth. The tip of the tongue, the lips and the teeth.” But it sounded more like lipth.

  “Don’t both
er. We’re already going to have to dub over everything we shot on Monday. We’re three days behind. Do you know how much that’s going to cost?”

  “Money, schmoney. I’m so sick of everyone talking about money all the time. Fine, I could use a day off. It smells like horse poop around here anyway.”

  On the way home, she picked up a couple of vodka minis and drove to the beach. When was the last time she’d been to the beach? Or watched a sunset? She didn’t have time for anything anymore. They drove her like a farm animal. All the director cared about was making his schedule. He didn’t know what he was doing. She was used to working with artists, people who came up through the theater and understood how important it was to take your time and get every scene right. It was her reputation on the line. This guy was a hack. She would call the agency tomorrow. They needed to start treating her better. She was an artist! But it wasn’t good to get so tense. She took another pill and did some deep breathing.

  By the time she got home it was dark. She poured herself an inch of vodka and kicked off her boots. There was a little bit of light coming from the den.

  “Hey,” she said. Lyon was sitting in the dark, watching a video with the sound off. “What are you doing home so early?”

  “I know what happened today, Neely. They called me from the set.”

  “Why would they call you?”

  “Sit down, Neely.”

  She plopped onto the sofa. He was watching one of her early movies. The clothes they used to wear! She prayed they never brought shoulder pads back.

  “You’re off the picture,” he said. “You’re being replaced.”

  “No way,” Neely said. “We’re already three weeks into shooting. They can’t replace me.”

  “They can and they have. They warned you what would happen if you were late again. It’s over, Neely.”

  “Ugh, don’t be so dramatic.” She giggled. “I’m the actor around here.”

  “You know how long I’ve been sitting here, waiting for you to come home? Two hours. So I’ve had plenty of time to think. And I’ve made some decisions. About you. About us.”

  Neely stood up. “All right, whatever, let me get changed and then you can tell me all about it.”

  “Sit down. We can’t go on like this anymore, Neely. I can’t watch you do this any longer.”

  “Do what?”

  “I know what’s going on. I know about the pills. I think on some level I’ve known about them from the beginning. You know, in some ways this is as much my fault as it is yours. On some level I knew what was going on, I just chose not to see it. You haven’t been yourself for a long time. The mood swings. The out-of-control spending. Calling in sick. All the signs were there, I just didn’t want to believe it. I take full responsibility for that. I shouldn’t have let you take so much on—the movies, the recording, the insane schedule, it’s too much. I should have taken better care of you. But it has to stop.” He lit a cigarette. She counted the butts in the ashtray: eight.

  “I know, I know,” Neely said. “I want to stop. It’s just that I’ve been under so much pressure. You know how it gets, I just needed a little something to take the edge off. I’ll stop as soon as this movie is finished, I promise.”

  “I want to take you somewhere you can get help. Somewhere quiet, where you can rest up for a while.”

  So that was it. The director had turned everyone against her, even Lyon. Men always stuck together. Hollywood would always be a boys’ club. It threatened them, that a woman could be more powerful and talented than they were. It had been this way with Mel, and then with Ted. At the beginning they were supportive, they were proud of her work, and then after a while it was too much for them, they had to cut her down to size to make themselves feel big. What was that word people used to say about successful women? Emasculating. No one said it anymore, but that’s still how they felt. Men all wanted the same thing. A housewife to meet them at the door when they came home.

  “I won’t,” Neely said. “I don’t need to. I can rest right here. I just need a couple of weeks off.”

  Lyon shook his head. “There’s a good place outside of San Francisco.”

  “I’m not going back into rehab,” Neely said. “You can’t make me. I know the law.”

  “You’re right, I can’t make you.” He sat back and crossed his hands behind his head. “I’m asking you to check yourself in. You need to be around people who know how to handle this kind of thing.”

  “But I don’t need people. I just need you. I need you to take care of me,” Neely said. “I need you to take care of me the way you used to. You can be my manager again. Then we could be together all the time. That’s what I need, someone to look after me all the time. Someone who really cares about me. These other people, they don’t really care about me. It’s just business with them.”

  “Neely. Listen to me. I’ve thought about this for a long time. You can’t do everything. You have to choose. The music. The movies. Me. You can’t have it all.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “You can’t keep going at this pace. You’re going to have to give something up.”

  “I’ll cut back,” Neely said. “I’ll call Gordon. I’ll tell him to cancel the Atlantic City dates.”

  “You don’t get it, do you.”

  “You want me to give up … all of it?”

  “Just for a while.”

  “Are you kidding? You know how long it took me to get back where I am? You think I’m just going to walk away from it now? You’re out of your mind. I thought you were on my side. I thought we were partners. That’s what marriage is supposed to be, a partnership.”

  “This hasn’t been a marriage in a long time.”

  So that was it. All men thought alike, their brains were in their pants. There hadn’t been any sex in months, but Neely assumed he understood that it was just temporary. They both had crazy schedules, and most nights when she got home from work she was too tired to do anything except watch television. She knew he was getting a little action on the side, and she had been a good wife, looked the other way, she knew he had needs, and she didn’t mind if he occasionally satisfied himself elsewhere. And now he was threatening to leave her! He probably had a little bimbo stashed away somewhere. Someone who made him feel like a big deal. Well, she didn’t have time for that! Everyone knew things changed once you were married. If only she weren’t so tired all the time … She knelt at his feet and put her head in his lap.

  “But this is what marriage is,” she said. “It’s sticking together when things get tough.” She wrapped her arms around his knees. “I’ll go back to Dr. Mitchell. It always gets better when I have someone to talk to. You’ll see. And then we can take a trip. We can go to Italy, we always have a great time in Italy. When was the last time we took a vacation, just the two of us?”

  He stroked her hair. “Oh baby,” he murmured. “My poor sweet baby.”

  She kissed his knees and reached up between his legs. She would remind him how good it could be. She knew there were things only she could do for him. Her mouth felt dry and cottony, but once she got started everything would be fine. He’d remember: she was the best. “Baby loves you,” she whispered, pulling at his belt buckle.

  He pushed her off and stood up. “You almost had me fooled. Get up.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her up. “You’re pathetic.”

  “Get out!” she screamed. “Get out of my house! No one tells me what to do. You think I need you? I don’t need anyone. Go on, leave. You’re the one who’s pathetic. Trying to make me think that everything is my fault. And I almost believed you! Look at me, look at this body! There’s nothing wrong with me. But I bet there’s something wrong with you. You’re twisting everything around. You haven’t touched me in months, and it’s not because there’s anything wrong with me. You can’t get it up anymore, that’s it, isn’t it. I should have figured it out earlier. That’s why I’ve been so unhappy. I don’t get enough love! It’s your fault! You have noth
ing to give!”

  She turned the sound back on after he left … she had forgotten how good this movie was … she sang along to the musical numbers, she still knew every word … she took another pill … Lyon would come around … what kind of man turned down a blow-job … he was at that age … she’d be more sensitive, he was under a lot of pressure, too … she would talk to Dr. Mitchell about it … Dr. Mitchell would know what to do.

  When the movie was over, she made herself a cup of coffee.

  “Lyon?” she called out. “Sweetie, where are you?” She would tell him she understood. They would work it out together. She went from room to room, calling his name.

  But Lyon was gone … he was afraid, he was a quitter … he had quit on Anne, too … no, that wasn’t right, Anne had walked out on him … Anne had figured out what a loser he was … Neely should have paid more attention … she should have known better than to take Anne’s leftovers … she had married him for the sex, it was just about sex, and now that the sex was over, there was nothing left at all … she knew she should feel sad … but she didn’t feel anything at all.

  1996.

  Neely left the country two weeks later.

  She missed Judd’s graduation from Harvard in June. Ted flew out alone, taking Judd to dinner in Boston afterward. “I’m sorry,” he told his son.

  “But I’m used to it,” Judd replied. As a graduation present, Ted bought him a loft in Seattle, where Judd was going to work for an Internet company.

  She missed the August premiere of Dylan’s first music video on MTV. Dylan had gotten the directing job through a high school friend. The band was a watered-down version of Green Day on a troubled label. After three weeks the video was dropped from rotation.

  She missed Jenn’s first big magazine job: the September cover of Gloss. Jenn wore a fawn-colored suede jacket with nothing but a strand of freshwater pearls underneath. It was the best-selling issue of Gloss in the last five years. Jenn moved to a better agency and flew to Europe for runway work.

  She missed Anne’s interview with Perry Hayes (the one where he broke down in tears and talked about his wife’s eating disorder), and she missed Nancy Bergen’s interview with the First Lady, one of the highest-rated news shows of all time. She missed George Dunbar’s fiftieth birthday party and Dave Feld’s funeral (complications following prostate cancer) six weeks later.