Dazzle The Complete Unabridged Trilogy (84 page)

'If you like my cooking so much, you could come visit your
poor mother more often,' Zelda complained.

He kissed her cheek and made himself scarce.

Zelda shut the kitchen door behind him, but Tamara could
hear the low volume of the radio coming from the living room.
She recognized the symphony. Mahler. Funereal and depress
ing, but somehow appropriate in this cheerless house. She
wondered how Louis could bear to visit as often as he did.

Zelda washed while Tamara dried. For a while they worked
in uncomfortable silence. Tamara couldn't get over the feeling
that there was a greater purpose for her participation in this
ancient female rite. She waited, knowing that Zelda would tell
her in her own good time.

She didn't have long to wait.

'So you want to marry my Louie,' Zelda said at last, and
Tamara wondered whether the accompanying sigh was the
result of their marriage plans or the recalcitrant dried crust on
the bowl Zelda was scrubbing. 'It goes without saying that I
want my son to get married. I'm his mother, I want what's best for him. What mother doesn't want that, I ask you?'

Tamara remained silent, guessing that Zelda didn't really
expect a reply.

'After all, Louie is thirty years old. It's time he gave me
grandchildren.' Zelda flickered a sideways glance at Tamara,
suspicion evident in her sharp, piercing gaze. 'So do you like
children?'

Tamara's mind shifted gears, alerting to this unexpected course of conversation. 'I . . . ah, yes,
...
of course,' she
murmured.

'Humph.' Zelda dipped the bowl into the steaming rinsing
water and handed it to Tamara. 'Marriage is much more than
playing house and making babies,' she continued, stuffing the
soapy dishcloth into a glass and twisting it around and around
inside it. Then she pulled the cloth back out, plunged the glass
into the rinsing water, and held it up to the light to check
that it was clean. 'Marriage is making a home. Running it
smoothly. It takes dedication, and it's a full-time job, let me
tell you. Louie tells me you want to continue working. So tell
me, how do you expect to make a home, have babies, and
be in the movies too?' She looked at Tamara searchingly. 'I suppose you can do three times as much as anybody else?'

Tamara could feel herself flushing under the unwavering
scrutiny, but she raised her chin stubbornly. 'Louie and I love
each other,' she countered challengingly.

'Do you?' Zelda held her gaze. 'Maybe you
think
you love
each other—'

A brilliant kind of sureness flared in Tamara's eyes. 'I know
we do,' she said definitely.

'You're so young,' Zelda hissed impatiently. 'So tell me,
how old are you, child?'

'Eighteen.'

Zelda's eyes blazed. 'All of eighteen!
Oy!
And already she
knows everything!' She shook her head and washed some
plates in brooding silence. Then suddenly she flung her hands
out of the dishwater and whirled on Tamara. 'Let him go!' she demanded abruptly, her eyes dancing with a mad light. 'Louie
is only thirty. Already he's been divorced once. Don't let him
make the same mistake twice. I beg of you—
leave
him!'

Tamara was so stunned that she was momentarily speech
less.

Zelda sensed that she'd gained the upper hand and drew
closer. For an instant she glanced over her shoulder at the
door, making certain that Louis had not come in without her noticing it. When she spoke again it was with such force and
fury that Tamara had to wince against the spray of spittle. 'I
know what it is you want! You're like all the other women who try to throw themselves at him. Louie is a famous director, and
you think he has a lot of money. You believe he can make you
a star!' Self-righteous triumph blazed crazily in her eyes.

'That isn't true!' Tamara whispered vehemently. 'I love
him!' She felt suddenly dizzy and the kitchen seemed to turn
slowly, tilting in carnival-ride revolutions around her. She
grabbed hold of the counter to steady herself.

'Then prove it to me.'

Tamara wiped her eyes. 'How? By giving him up?' She gave
a snort of mirthless laughter and turned away.

Zelda paused. 'No,' she said finally, taking Tamara by the
arm and turning her around to face her. 'There is another
way.'

Tamara raised her eyebrows.

'By signing a document my lawyer has drawn up.'

Tamara regarded Zelda suspiciously. 'What kind of docu
ment?'

'A marriage contract of sorts, only it is between me and you
instead of you and Louie. It is very simple and states that
should you get a divorce for any reason or, God forbid, Louie
should die before you, you relinquish all rights to his estate.
At least while I'm alive.'

'In other words, you want to make sure that I get nothing . . . and you get everything.'

Zelda frowned. 'I didn't put it into those words, you did.
But I guess in a way you're right. The thing to remember is
that by signing, you will prove to me that you are not marrying
my Louie for his money or influence.'

'Does he know about this?'

'No!' Zelda emphasized. 'And he does not need to. Why
worry him, I ask you?'

Tamara stared at her in disbelief. 'You're sick!' she whis
pered.

'Am I?'

'Perhaps I'm wrong. Maybe you're just a greedy criminal.
You
are
trying to blackmail me.'

Zelda's eyes were icy. 'I see now that I might as well not
have bothered with the contract. I was right about you all
along. I should have known.'

Tamara gaped at her. 'You're serious about this, aren't
you?'

Zelda raised her chin in certainty. 'I am. I have the contract
right here.' She slid open a drawer and took out a two-page
legal document stapled to a pale blue backing. She thrust it at
Tamara.

Slowly Tamara took it and read through it, her lips silently
mouthing each cruel word. There were a lot of whereases, theretofores, inasmuches, and hereunders, the precise, unemotional legal jargon maintaining a judicious distance
from the emotions that had been the basis for it. Despite the strange nature of the contract, she didn't at all doubt that it
was perfectly legal and would stand up in a court of law. She
was certain Zelda had seen to that. She didn't strike her as the
kind of woman who could make a mistake about something
like that.

Tamara's voice was weak and strained. 'And if I don't sign?'

'Then I will not give Louie my blessing to marry you. Oh, I
know my Louie is headstrong and might go ahead and marry
you anyway. But how long do you think your happiness will
last after his own mother has disowned him?'

'You've had it all figured out from the start, haven't you?'
Tamara said bitterly. 'You went to your attorney and had this
prepared'—she rattled the document—'before you even met
me. You decided in advance not to like me.' Tears stung in
her eyes.

'Like or not like, you had nothing to do with it. Louie is my
only child, and I intend to protect him at any cost. I would
gladly die before I see another woman take advantage of him.'

'That makes two of us.'

'So.' Zelda looked at Tamara evenly. 'You will sign, then,
won't you?'

Tamara drew herself up with dignity. 'Yes, I will sign,' she
said wearily. 'And you need not worry.' Her voice became
choked with emotion. 'I will never tell him about this. I would never want him to know just how heartless his mother really
is. No son should have to know that.'

For a brief moment the steel in Zelda seemed to soften.
Then, before she became too pliable, she caught herself and hardened again, as tough and unbendable as ever.

She held out a pen. Tamara snatched it from her and signed.

'In triplicate,' Zelda said, producing two more copies of the
contract.

'There.' Tamara slapped the contracts down on the counter.
'And now, if you'll excuse me, I think it's time Louie took me
home.' Her voice was quivering as she fought to keep her rage
under control. 'Thank you for the dinner.'

She went to the door, struggling to compose herself and, pushing it open, went out into the living room. The Mahler
symphony sounded louder and more tragic. It reminded her of a dirge, the unseen instruments weeping in low, rhythmic
mourning as a lone soprano wailed her way up the scale before
plunging back down into the abyss of bleak darkness.

Chapter 11

Tamara, eighteen years old, International Artists' much-
publicized new discovery and, according to the press releases,
the daughter of a brilliant Russian actress and a powerful
prince, a displaced refugee, and would-have-been heiress to an awesome fortune, married Louis Frederic Ziolko on the set of
The Flappers
on Sunday, April 20, one day after the
film's final scene had been shot. For Tamara, the wedding wasn't so much a ceremony of exchanging vows as a scene in a maddeningly overcrowded zoo. It turned into a national
spectacle, as royal an occasion as there ever could be in a
democracy. It was a civil rather than a religious ceremony,
and if there was anything religious about it, it was the pomp
and splendour of Hollywood idolatry.

Oscar Skolnik, ever the entrepreneur and never one to let a moneymaking scheme slip idly through his fingers, seized
the opportunity to cash in on what he believed must surely be
the most brilliant publicity stunt ever devised. Having pumped
fifty thousand dollars into the ceremony, and beaming as
brightly as any genuine father, he gave awly the bride on
soundstage twelve, amid the still-intact massive ballroom set
of
The Flappers,
which had been specially decorated with fif
teen thousand dollars' worth of snow-white flowers for the
occasion.