Star (31 page)

He was pleasant and kind, and he had very good manners. There was nothing insinuating about the way he talked to her. He wasn't a white slaver after all, he was only a manager, as he called himself. She confessed to him then that she'd wanted to be a movie star all her life. It was a story he'd heard before, but he smiled as though this was the first time. Cary Grant was at the bar, and Rock Hudson came in to meet someone briefly and stayed for quite a while, as Crystal looked around in amazement. It was all so much more than she'd ever dared to hope for. She felt tears sting her eyes as she looked at him, and he looked suddenly worried.

Is something wrong?

I can't believe this is happening to me. He smiled. He liked them like that. Fresh, and young. He would have liked to keep her out later that night, to get to know her better, but he wanted her rested the next day for the movie. That was more important. She was more than just a girl to him. She was an investment.

They dawdled over coffee and he told her he wanted her seen around town on the arms of the right men, and he discreetly mentioned to her a list of those who were going to call her. She recognized some of them, and for a moment she thought that maybe he was kidding, but as she looked into his eyes, she knew he wasn't. Why are you doing all this for me? She still didn't understand him. Why her? But he knew exactly what he was doing.

You're going to make us both rich one day. He smiled as though he had found a diamond in his coffee. You're going to be very famous.

How do you know that? Why was she different from the rest? She had no sense of how spectacular she was, particularly now with the dresses he had urged her to buy and the careful makeup. It was a long way from work shirts and cowboy boots, but for the moment she didn't miss them.

I've never been wrong yet, he boasted quietly and patted her hand as he asked for the check, and then as they waited he asked her the question he'd been wondering about since he'd met her.

How encumbered are you romantically? She looked pensive and he smiled. In other words, do you have a boyfriend? She had understood him, but she'd been thinking it over.

No, I don't. Her voice was quiet and her face was sad as she thought of Spencer.

Are you sure of that?

Yes.

Good. But you did? She nodded. And where is he now? He wanted to be sure she was free and there wouldn't be any trouble. He could handle it of course, but he didn't like to.

I'm not sure where he is, Crystal went on. In Korea, or back in New York. Either way, it's no longer important. But she had to fight back tears as she said it.

And then she sat back and watched Ernie greet his friends as they drifted past them. He was attractive and gracious and he had a certain style about him that was beginning to grow on Crystal. She had never known anyone like him. She noticed too that he wore a single ring, a heavy gold piece with a good-sized diamond. His suit was expensively made, and the white shirt he wore was made by a costume maker in Las Vegas, but it looked as though it had been made by a tailor in London. There was something stylish about the man, and it was obvious that he cared about the way he looked, and there was a raw sensuality that Crystal was aware of, but there was something else too, a forcefulness that still frightened her a little bit. He concealed it well but one sensed that Ernesto Salvatore was a man who always got what he wanted. But there was no sign of that, as he turned to her with a friendly smile.

Ready to go? He asked amiably as he got up and led her past at least a dozen famous faces. Some of them acknowledged him but this time he didn't stop. He just walked her to the door pretending not to notice the people staring at her, and a few minutes later he dropped her off at her hotel. She thanked him, and he left, and she went upstairs to get a good night's sleep before starting work the next morning.

But once she was in bed, she found she couldn't sleep, and for once she wasn't thinking of Spencer. She was thinking about her new manager, and although she had to admit he was charming, just as Pearl had said, Crystal didn't know why, but he scared her.

Crystal began to work on the movie and as her coach had promised, it was easier than she thought. The hours were long and rigorous, but everyone seemed anxious to help her. She studied her lines every day, and had intended to go to bed early every night, but she was amazed by the number of men who called her. Ernie had mentioned all of them, so she knew they had called her on command, but they were always polite and pleasant, and charming. They arrived in dinner jackets, driving expensive cars, actors and singers and well-known dancers. She had even seen some of them in movies. And they escorted her everywhere. To Chasen's, and the Cocoanut Grove and the Mocambo. It was all like a fairy tale, and words failed her each time she tried to describe it to Pearl when she wrote her. She told her about the parties she was going to, and the people she had met there, and for a moment she wondered if she'd even believe her. It was the kind of story one read in movie magazines, but it was true. All of it. And she told her about the picture.

And halfway through the picture, Ernie called her himself. Having fun?

I'm out every night. She laughed breathlessly and he laughed in answer.

Then how come you're home now?

I was so tired, I canceled tonight. I didn't think I could get dressed one more time. There was a comment he was tempted to make, but he didn't think she was ready for it. Instead he chose to answer her innocently and not scare her.

Not even once? Just for me?

Oh, Mr. Salvatore ' Her voice drifted off. She was exhausted. She had to get up at four every day, and be on the set by five-thirty in the morning for makeup and costumes.

What happened to Ernie'? Have I done something wrong?

No, I'm sorry. He sounded so nice and she owed so much to him, she knew she couldn't turn him down. She just wished he hadn't called her. She was truly exhausted.

Don't be sorry, just remember next time. How about a quiet dinner somewhere? You don't even have to dress to be seen.

She sighed in relief, and it was nice of him to call. She smiled as she glanced out her window. Could I wear jeans?

I'd be honored. And bring a bathing suit, if you have one.

Where are we going? She sounded intrigued and was only faintly worried.

To Malibu. To a quiet place I know. You can relax, and I'll get you home early.

I'd love it. She dressed hastily, brushing her hair back into a tight knot, and slipping on her jeans and one of the old shirts she'd brought from home, and the cow-buy boots she'd had for years. As she looked in the mirror, she suddenly recognized herself again, and it felt so good not to be dressed up and wearing makeup.

He picked her up in his Rolls ten minutes later, and she saw that he was wearing jeans too. He laughed with pleasure at how she looked. People are so dumb. I'd love to put you in a picture just like that, Crystal, but no one would ever understand it. He saw that the boots were the real thing, and the jeans were, too, and he remembered her tales of the valley when they'd had dinner at the Brown Derby.

She was more comfortable with him than she had been before. The absence of expensive clothes, and not being in a fancy restaurant where she was stared at helped, and it never dawned on her to ask where they were going. They chatted on easily for a while, talking about her childhood, and his in New York, and then suddenly she saw that they had stopped in a driveway outside a house perched just above the ocean. Where are we?

My place in Malibu. Did you bring a bathing suit? I have an indoor pool. The ocean is too cold here. She felt a tremor of fear run up her spine, and yet he had given her no indication that she needed to worry. But the emotional scars left by Tom had never entirely faded, and she suddenly wondered what Spencer would think of her being here with Ernie. But it didn't matter anymore. And he was married anyway. And this was her life and no one else's. She forced Spencer from her mind, and followed Ernie to the front door, which he opened with a single key. There was no one there, and Crystal looked frightened. Don't be afraid, little one. He smiled gently at her. I won't hurt you. I just thought you needed a night off. He was right, she did, but she wasn't sure she was safe here. Her instincts told her not to go inside, but she felt foolish making a fuss, he was being so pleasant, and he had already been so kind to her.

She followed him through the door and saw that they were in a beautiful house, with glass walls and high ceilings, there were thick white rugs, and long white leather couches, and the room looked even larger with the clever use of mirrors. And outside the huge picture windows, the sun was setting slowly over the Pacific. It was beautiful, and it made everything seem more real as she watched it. It reminded her of sunsets on the ranch that she had watched in happier times with her father.

Would you like a drink? He walked to the bar and opened a refrigerator hidden behind a mirrored door, but she shook her head. She had every intention of staying sober.

No, thanks.

A soda perhaps? She asked for a Coke, and he smiled. She was really just a kid, hidden in that magnificent body. He had never seen a girl as beautiful, and he was still marveling to himself at how he had found her. You don't drink, or you don't trust me?

She hesitated and then laughed. Both, I guess.

Smart girl. He poured himself a vodka and tonic and invited her to sit on the couch. She was still trying to figure out where the pool was, but now that they were inside, the house looked much larger. It had seemed deceptively small before they entered.

I ordered dinner for us. I'm sure it's well hidden somewhere. I have a man who comes in every day. But I don't use this place very often. I live in the Hills. And he knew she was still living at the hotel. You can use this place whenever you want, Crystal. Just come here to relax. After a hard day on a picture you'll need it. She was touched by how kind he was. He had done so much for her. It was hard to understand why he did it. To make money, of course, but there was more to it than that. He did all the little things too, the flowers, the small gifts, the selection of her escorts, and now this, an evening at the beach in jeans. It was just exactly what she would have wanted. But he was good at that. It was what he did best. He had remarkable instincts for people.

She let her head fall back against the couch, as the sun set behind him, and she sighed happily. I think this is the best day I've had here.

Good. Would you like to swim before dinner, or would you rather wait? A walk on the beach perhaps?

She smiled peacefully. I'd love that. He set down his drink and threw open the door to the terrace as a cool breeze swept in and he followed her down the stairs to the sand, as she began to run, feeling the wind on her face and in her hair, and for the first time in a long time, she was truly happy. She looked like a child again as she walked and ran, and took off her boots to put her toes in the ocean. It was growing dark, but he followed her quietly, watching her with pleasure, like a proud parent. And she returned to him finally, her face bright from the cool air and the wind on her cheeks.

Are you cold?

I'm all right. But he could see that she was, and he took off his jacket and put it over her shoulders. It smelled of the cologne he wore, she hadn't noticed it before, and she realized suddenly that she liked it. She wondered if he'd ever been married, or if he had children, who he was behind the facade, but he offered nothing of himself. He seemed to be there only to please her and eventually they walked back to the house and he went to look for their dinner. He found fresh lobster waiting for them, with a delicate mayonnaise, and a big spinach salad. There was a bottle of champagne left in a silver ice bucket, and hard-boiled eggs filled with caviar.

Have you ever had caviar before? She shook her head, she had only heard of it, and he smiled paternally at her. You might not like it at first. Some things are like that. But she tried it to please him, and decided that it wasn't bad. But as they sat at a low table on comfortable chairs, she liked the lobster and champagne a lot better. She drank sparingly, and he didn't press her to drink more than that. He had time, lots of it, and he didn't want her till she wanted him. And he knew that she would in time. She was too indebted to him by then not to.

They talked about where she had lived, about her father when he was alive, about all the things that mattered to her, and he listened as though the world depended on what she said. And half an hour after dinner, he offered her a swim again, smiling warmly. It might relax you.

She laughed at his choice of words. If I were any more relaxed I might go to sleep on the floor. It had been a long, hard day, and it took its toll on her. And the fresh sea air had made her sleepy. A swim might feel good, if I don't drown from all that lobster.

Don't worry, I'll save you.

She smiled up at him gratefully, unaware of the picture she made just sitting there easily in her blue jeans and her boots and her old shirt and her pale gold hair. I think you already have.

I hope so. Her benefactor smiled benignly at her and told her where to change, while he went to turn the lights on in the pool. And a moment later she emerged again in a white bathing suit that took his breath away. She had no idea how devastating she was, which was just as well. He liked that about her. And the audience would too. He never forgot that.

I hope it's warm enough. He watched her slip into the water, and then went to change as she floated happily. The pool was enormous and warm and she thought she had never been as comfortable in her life. She looked up at him happily when he returned, wrapped in a luxurious white towel. It was tied tightly around his waist, and as she watched, he untied it, and she gasped. He was naked. She discreetly turned away, afraid to embarrass him, and she heard him laugh. Don't worry, Crystal. I won't rape you. I've never been accused of that. But he had been accused of other things, of which she knew nothing. He slipped easily into the pool, and she began to swim quietly, afraid she might see something that she shouldn't. And as he passed her, he smiled at her. Why don't you take your suit off too? It's so warm it's like being in a bathtub. He seemed to have no ulterior motive, he was just at ease with himself, and with her, and he made no attempt to touch her as she smiled and tried to look unconcerned, but knowing that he was naked made her nervous.