Lovers and Gamblers (12 page)

Paul breathed a sigh of relief. If
she
didn’t take Al’s mind off Dallas nobody would. She was a star, and her reputation as a nymphomaniac was well known.

The four of them had dinner up in the hills, and then Al and Violette vanished up to her suite at the Carlton, and neither was seen again until morning.

Al arrived an hour late at the location.

‘You look like you haven’t slept for a week,’ stated Dallas.

‘Are you a lesbian?’

‘What a sweet old-fashioned question. If I was, it would be none of your goddamn business.’

‘So you are.’

‘No, I am not.’ Why had she answered him? He had no right to know either way. She thought of her relationship with Bobbie and shuddered. Those were scenes better forgotten. No, she was definitely
not
a lesbian.

‘Let’s have dinner tonight.’

‘I don’t want dinner with you.’

‘Why not?’

‘You’re too – I don’t know – you’re just too…’

‘What?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘If you don’t know let’s have dinner and find out.’

‘You’re too obvious.’

‘Obvious?’ He burst out laughing, ‘Obvious! You can talk, with your tits hanging out from here to kingdom come!’

‘You want to get laid.’

‘I just got laid. Tonight I’d like dinner with you. We could talk, like get to know each other.’

‘Why?’

‘Why not?’

‘Anyway I can’t. My boyfriend—’ She stammered over boyfriend, realizing she had picked the wrong word. ‘Is coming to town.’

‘Who’s your boyfriend?’

‘Just a friend.’

‘We could all have dinner.’

‘No, thanks.’

The director had lined up the shot and was calling for action. Al started to sing, and Dallas did the full adoring gaze. Idly she wondered who he had been with the night before, and then suddenly, for no reason, she felt a sexual excitement grip her, a feeling she had only ever experienced with Burt Keyes and at the beginning of her affair with Bobbie. She wanted to close her eyes and hang on, it was such a good feeling, and in spite of the life she had led, such an unusual feeling. She didn’t understand it. What had caused it?

The sound machine boomed Al’s voice over loud and clear. Oh Christ! Not feelings for this creep in tight trousers.

She could feel her nipples hardening, and she saw Al notice. Then the bulge in his trousers started to grow. He stared at her, casually slipping the clothes from her with his eyes. Bastard. He knew what was happening.

‘Cut!’ the director called. ‘That was sensational, no retakes. Coming in for close-ups. Everything OK, Al?’

‘Couldn’t be better,’ and he winked at her. ‘Could it?’

She turned away and let the make-up woman attend to her face. What had happened? And why? She couldn’t think straight. Thank Christ Ed would be with her soon. If only she could manufacture that special feeling for Ed. If only…

* * *

‘How was last night?’ Paul asked.

‘Not bad.’

‘Not bad. I hear she’s a killer.’

‘Boney.’

‘One of the biggest movie stars in France and all you can say is boney.’

‘Do you love Linda, Paul?’

‘That’s a hell of a question.’ They had never really discussed it before. ‘Why?’

‘Does it kick you in the gut when you see her? Like – pow. Know what I mean?’

‘I know what you mean. Yes, I love her.’

‘And Melanie?’

Paul shook his head. ‘It’s difficult. Melanie’s my wife, mother of my kids. What’s with the questions?’

‘Just thinking.’

Violette Victor arrived for lunch and the photographers had a field day. She was not averse to publicity and posed moodily in a faded denim jumpsuit.

Dallas was suddenly ignored, and she felt sharp pangs of jealousy at the switch of attention.

Al and Violette Victor. She imagined them in bed together.

Nicky came over to complain about being told he couldn’t take her out the previous evening. She brushed him aside, and watched as Al and Violette disappeared inside his caravan. A lunchtime fuck. Charming.

Stupid, conceited 
star.

In the afternoon they shot the second half of Al’s song. They had to leave the car and run from the beach into the sea. Dallas had to throw off her dress, underneath which she was wearing a white bikini.

‘You look absolutely marvellous, darling,’ exclaimed the director. ‘You remind me of Ursula Andress in that Bond film.’

‘Who?’ questioned Dallas.

The director raised an irate eyebrow. ‘Are you kidding, dear?’

Violette Victor had departed and Al seemed in good humour.

‘You’re happy,’ remarked Dallas.

‘I had a good lunch, know what I mean?’

She knew what he meant, and then before she could help herself she said, ‘Get your cock sucked, did you?’ She could have kicked herself as soon as she had said it.

Al started to laugh. ‘Oh, boy! Little Miss America. What naughty words you come out with. Yes, as a matter of fact I did.’

Why had she said it? What did she care? It made it look like she
did
care. It made her sound like a really tough broad. Which of course she was, but that was supposed to be her secret. Oh shit, why had she said it?

‘Good for you.’ And for some inexplicable reason her eyes filled with tears.

‘Changed your mind about dinner?’

‘I told you, I’m busy.’

‘Pity. I can see that you and I would get along really well.’

‘Don’t count on it.’

Al grinned. ‘I’m counting on it. Anyway, if you can’t make dinner come to the Casino in Monte Carlo later, bring me some luck.’

‘Doesn’t Violette Victor bring you luck?’

‘Violette Victor doesn’t fill a bikini like you.’

‘But she sucks good cock, right?’

‘Right.’

Oh God, not again. What was she trying to do? She was carrying on like she was jealous or something ridiculous like that. Miss Toughie. Shut up, Dallas, you’re behaving like a cunt.

‘I think you and I could have one helluva good time together,’ Al said seriously. ‘Why don’t you dump the boyfriend, whoever he is?’

Was he kidding? Dump Ed Kurlnik. Never.

‘Not possible. Anyway I don’t want to.’ Her eyes dropped to his impossibly filled swim shorts. ‘Besides, he has more to offer me than you do.’

Now what a lie
that
was.

* * *

Ed arrived in a black chauffered Kurlnik Supreme, looking dapper in a dark blue suit.

He had ordered adjoining suites in the Hotel de Paris, and he kissed Dallas chastely on the cheek and booked an immediate phone call to Mrs. Dee Dee Kurlnik on Fire Island.

So the immaculate Dee Dee was holding the fort at their holiday mansion. With or without the lovely twins? Dallas wondered viciously if she was screwing any of the local talent. Maybe she would dip her immaculate toes in the ocean and get eaten by a shark.

‘How’s it going?’ Ed asked, as he waited for his phone call.

‘Terrific,’ replied Dallas, kneeling to unzip his trousers.

He turned away. ‘Not while I’m on the phone.’

‘Why not? I’ve missed you.’

Flattered, he turned back to her. ‘Make it quick while I’m waiting for the call to come through.’

What other way was there but quick with Ed?

* * *

Al didn’t fancy her. Movie star or not, she was just not his scene. Skinny body. Hairy armpits. Grating accent.

He had performed the night before, but that was it.

Lunchtime she had serviced him. Now she expected the compliment returned.

‘We’ll have dinner first,’ he suggested. ‘Paul’s meeting us at The African Queen. You like pizza?’

Disappointed, she slipped into a dress. ‘Later, then,’ she said, as if to reassure herself.

‘Wouldn’t miss it.’

He drove the Cadillac at his usual erratic pace. He wondered if Dallas would turn up at the Casino. God, she was beautiful. And that body. Quite unbelievable. And he liked her style. She wasn’t prepared to take the shit he dished out to everyone else. It was a pleasure to find a woman who answered back. He had known she would be different. He had sensed it. And he had to have her. Had to.

Dinner was a succession of autograph hunters. The tourist season was in full swing, and they went after Violette and Al endlessly.

Al couldn’t wait to get to the Casino. The adrenalin was flowing. He needed some excitement.

He hit the roulette table, covering all his favourite numbers. ‘Tonight’s my lucky night,’ he told Paul.

Zero came up.

* * *

Dallas and Ed dined at a small discreet restaurant overlooking the harbour. Conversation was sparse. It was so strange to be out in public together. Dallas drank most of the wine, and Ed told a long and boring story of a business transaction.

If they were married is this what their life would be like together? A succession of boring dinners. She had longed for the day when he would actually take her out, and the anticlimax was awful. Of course in New York it would probably be different. There everyone knew him, and it would be exciting to be seen together.

Mrs. Ed Kurlnik. What respect
that
title would conjure up.

‘Shall we go to the casino?’ she asked casually after dinner.

‘I don’t gamble,’ Ed replied.

I bet you don’t, mustn’t risk the precious millions. ‘But
I’d
love to go. Can we?’

‘Well…’

‘
Please.’
She slipped her hand onto his thigh under the table. ‘We’ll do what
you
want later.’

‘Just for a short visit then.’

He paid the bill, undertipped as was his habit, and they climbed into the comfort of the Kurlnik Supreme and were whisked over to the Casino by the chauffeur.

Dallas had chosen her outfit with care. A plain white dress. Long. One shoulder exposed. A thin silver choker, silver bangles on both arms, and gypsy hoop earrings.

Ed, not known as a giver of compliments, had volunteered that she looked very nice. She knew she looked beautiful. She knew the dress emphasized every curve of her body.

She didn’t know why she was in such a state of excitement about seeing Al King. But she was. She wanted him to see her with Ed Kurlnik. She wanted him to realize that she wasn’t just another dumb, pretty girl, available to any star who beckoned. Maybe then he would leave her alone.

* * *

‘Sonofabitch!’ muttered Al in disgust.

‘We go now?’ inquired Violette.

‘Just another roll. Only one.’

‘You’ll lose again.’

‘I like faith. Can’t you try positive thinking?’

‘I try. But your luck is
merde
.’

‘Your enthusiasm kills me.’

Carefully he covered the table. Cheval twenty-six and twenty-nine. A wad of chips on red. Cover seven, eleven, seventeen, twenty, thirty-five. Mustn’t forget twenty-five and thirty-two.

The croupier spun the wheel. Al sucked in his breath. The ball rolled lazily round. Come on, you bastard. He was down by ten thousand pounds. Enough by anyone’s standards; three years’ wages when he had been working on the roads.

Come on, baby – roll into one of my numbers. The ball jumped into thirty-five, wavered, jumped out and landed firmly on twenty-six.

‘Baby!!’ screamed Al, and he looked up in time to see Dallas. For a moment he forgot about winning and thought, Jesus Christ, I have to have her. Then he noticed the small elderly man with her, and his eyes swivelled back to the pile of chips being propelled towards him. With gambler’s instinct he let the cheval on twenty-six ride, doubling it. It came up again. He had known it would. While Dallas was there he was a winner.

* * *

‘Don’t you gamble at all?’ Dallas asked, her eyes scanning the room finding Al and returning satisfied to Ed.

‘It’s a fools’ game, for children.’

‘But you love games.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘
I
should know.’

He allowed himself a smile.

She nuzzled close to him. ‘One drink and you can take me home to play, OK?’

‘Yes.’

Paul had been trying his luck at blackjack. Gambling wasn’t really his scene but he didn’t mind playing for fun, and anything was better than standing behind Al watching him go berserk. He saw Dallas come in and recognized Ed Kurlnik at once. So here was the reason that she didn’t want to know about Al. Sonofabitch. No wonder she played it cool. Ed Kurlnik. Who would have believed it.

He scooped up his minimal winnings and went right over to them.

Dallas was charm itself, carrying out introductions, and asking innocently, ‘Is Al here?’

‘He’s playing roulette.’

‘Why don’t you all join us for a drink?’

‘Great. I’ll see if I can tear Al away.’

Ed was not pleased. As Paul departed he instructed, ‘Tell them we just bumped into each other.’

Dallas widened tiger eyes. ‘Of course, baby. I’m a friend of your wife’s in New York. Or shall I be a friend of your daughters’?’

Ed pursed his lips. What kind of fool was he to be seen in public with this girl? He should have kept her shut away. He should
never
have arranged for her to win that beauty contest. She was changing from the lovely innocent girl he had first met in Los Angeles. She was becoming pushy.

Eventually Al came strolling over hand in hand with Violette. ‘Why don’t we go to Regines?’ he suggested. ‘It’s just next door.’

Ed was quite pleased at meeting Violette Victor. He had seen a private screening of her new film where she had performed a most explicit sex act with another girl. He wondered if Dallas would consider… Maybe later…

The five of them went to Regines, an exclusive discotheque overlooking the sea, where they were given the best table in the room, and where the disc jockey immediately played Al’s most famous record, ‘Random Love’.

‘An oldie but a goodie,’ Paul laughed. God, that record had been the beginning of it all.

Violette, realizing who Ed Kurlnik was and being no slouch, engaged him in a lengthy conversation about a film she wanted to do, but for which nobody would put up the money as it was a very offbeat project.

Dallas let her have him. She wasn’t jealous, she knew whose bed he would be in later.