Lovers and Gamblers (2 page)

‘What’s up, Al? Can’t it wait?’

‘No. I need company.’

‘Give me a few minutes.’

Al switched on the television.

Wrapped in a black towelling bathrobe he poured himself a bourbon and coke – fattening but favourite – and settled down on the bed.

He clicked the remote control dial. Quiz game. Western. Cookery. Chat show. He stopped there.

‘Well,’ said the interviewer, ‘who shall we pick out to talk to next amongst this bevy of beauties?’

The camera switched to a group of about fifteen girls in swimsuits clustered together at the front of the audience. ‘Miss Philadelphia,’ continued the interviewer, ‘would you like to step up here, dear?’

Miss Philadelphia was a skinny, nervous girl with long legs and freckles. She smiled jumpily.

‘Gee, honey,’ said the interviewer, leering at his audience, ‘I’m not going to eat you. What do you think your chances are of winning the “Miss Coast to Coast” title tonight?’

‘I’d like to,’ she replied breathily.

‘What would you do if you did?’

‘I want to travel. Then I guess I’d just like to settle down and be a good wife and mother.’

‘Wonderful. Isn’t that wonderful, everyone?’ The audience obediently clapped.

‘Bullshit!’ exclaimed Al, and he was just about to change the channel when Miss Los Angeles stepped forward. She was wearing a black shiny bikini, and she had a body that stopped even Al in his tracks. Big bosom, long legs, finely muscled stomach, small waist. He dragged his eyes up to her face and it was not a disappointment. She was great looking, with a wide luscious mouth and long streaked blondish hair which fell past her shoulders in soft waves.

‘Not bad!’ exclaimed Al out loud, and he felt himself slightly aroused, which was a good sign.

He would have her. He would get his brother to arrange it.

For Al King nothing was impossible. He could have any woman he wanted, and he usually did.

* * *

‘Why do you always have to run whenever he calls?’ demanded Linda.

‘Because,’ explained Paul King patiently, ‘that’s why Al and I have such a good relationship, and that is why we are still together.’

‘Christ!’ exclaimed Linda crossly. ‘You make the two of you sound like an old married couple.’

‘That’s right,’ agreed Paul. ‘A manager and his star have a very sensitive relationship. It is sort of like a marriage, and Al and I have a good one.’

‘God! You and your bloody marriages! It’s not only your wife I have to contend with, Al is a lot more demanding than any woman.’ Linda Cosmo climbed out of bed. She was a thin woman in her early thirties with Elizabeth Taylor eyes and straight black hair. She was strikingly attractive.

‘Come back here,’ demanded Paul.

‘Why? For a quick one? You know I don’t appreciate quick ones. Anyway, I thought you said he would be busy this afternoon –
all
afternoon. It’s only just past four.’

‘I expect he got bored, you know Al.’

‘Yes. I know Al. He’s a pain in the ass. I really don’t know why you stay with him – you have plenty of money, you don’t need Al King any more.’

‘Cool it, Linda.’ Paul followed her out of bed. ‘You should understand.’

‘Oh sure, I
do
understand. I understand about Al, and about your wife, and about your kids. What time does that leave for
me?
How often are we alone together?’ She locked her hands behind Paul’s neck. ‘You know I love you,’ she continued softly, ‘but love needs attention too.’

He kissed her, running his hands down her naked body. She was right, he did neglect her. But what could he do? He had so many other commitments.

‘How would you like to come on the tour?’ He had blurted it out before really thinking about it.

She looked at him suspiciously. ‘I’d love it – you know that. But how?’

‘Officially, that’s how. I’m appointing you tour photographer.’

‘You’re kidding!’

‘I’m serious. Only stop giving me a hard time about Al.’

‘You really mean it?’ She wrapped her arms around him, kissing him long and hard. ‘We can be together, and it’s a terrific challenge. I always did get turned on by a challenge.’

She kissed him again and he pushed her away, laughing. ‘If I’d known I was going to get this good a reaction I’d have given you a job sooner! I feel like a Hollywood producer!’

She grinned. ‘I’ll join you on the casting couch later.’ Then seriously she added: ‘I won’t let you down, I promise you that.’

‘On the casting couch?’

‘On the tour, you fool!’

‘I know you won’t let me down, you never do.’

He guided her back to the bed. ‘Why don’t we put the casting couch into action now?’

She laughed softly. ‘Why not indeed? There’s nothing I like better than screwing the man with the most beautiful cock in the world…’

As usual it was the best for him. Linda Cosmo was the only woman that he genuinely liked making love to.

He had met her a year previously. New York. Opening night in cabaret for Al. Noise. People. Booze. Food. She had been sent by a magazine to photograph the event. Paul had seen her, fancied her, moved in before Al. He usually gave Al first crack, but that time it had been different.

They had been together on and off ever since. The on was when he was in America. The off was when he was in England.

He was pleased with the idea of bringing Linda on the tour. She was an excellent photographer, and they would be able to be seen together.

Later, as they dressed, Linda asked, ‘Can I tell people?’

‘Tell them what?’

‘About the job?’

‘Not yet. Let me cue Al in first. And I’ve got to break it to B.S. – you know what he’s like, he may struggle a bit.’ B.S., better known as Bernie Suntan – was Al’s American publicity man – the best, but somewhat nervous and temperamental. He might object. Then again he might be delighted with the idea. Whatever he thought it was tough shit. Only Al could influence Paul’s decisions.

The reasons that Paul and Al were in New York was because of the Al King Supertour. A spectacular odyssey across America. There were a few minor details to sort out – things that Paul could have really taken care of on the phone – but he had wanted to make the trip if only to be with Linda. Al had decided to come along at the last moment. Fresh out of the health farm he was ready for some action.

The tour was immensely important. In the last year Al’s record sales had been slipping. Nothing desperate, just a slow, hardly noticeable slide. But Paul had noticed, and coupled with the fact that Al’s last two singles had failed to make the top of the charts, he realized that it was time to bring Al back in front of the people. Too much time in television and recording studios created a vacuum between a star and his public. On stage Al was pure dynamite.

The trip was meticulously planned. Al would travel in his own lavishly equipped plane – that way all travel hassles would be taken care of.

So far Al had made no mention of bringing his wife, and Paul was sure that the matter would not come up. Paul was relieved because it gave him a beautiful excuse with his own wife. If Edna wasn’t allowed on the trip, then Melanie certainly wasn’t. Not that Paul would compare the two women. Edna was a doormat and Al treated her as such. Melanie was a sharp lady, which was why Paul had to play it very carefully with Linda. If Melanie got a whiff that he was serious about anybody – well… He didn’t like to think about it.

He had been married to Melanie for ten years – since she was eighteen – and they had two young children. Melanie was an ex-dancer. She was very pretty, but oh what a bitch! And a nag. And somewhere in the back of his mind Paul knew for sure that she had slept with Al. He had no proof, knew nothing for certain, but he just had a feeling…

Linda was dressed and ready to leave. ‘Later?’ she asked.

‘As soon as I’m free.’

‘Come to the apartment. I’ll cook dinner.’

‘We may have to go out with Al. I don’t know what he’s got in mind but I can’t leave him alone.’

Linda laughed sarcastically. ‘The great Al King alone – never!’

‘Watch it, you’ll be working for him soon.’

‘I don’t understand it,’ Linda mused. ‘You’re better looking, taller, and a whole year younger. Why aren’t
you
the superstar?’

‘Because I can’t sing, and whatever you may think about Al he’s got a bitch of a voice. Besides, I like being the manager, it means I score the best birds.’

‘Oh, really?’

‘Oh, really, yes. I got you, didn’t I?’

‘Yeah, you got me hooked like some stupid fish. There I was, looking for a stable relationship, and I get some dumb married man who spends his life wetnursing superschmuck!’

‘You’ve got a big mouth, but I love you.’

‘That’s
why
you love me.’ She glanced quickly at her watch. ‘Hey – you’re going to be late – better move it.’

‘I’ll call you later.’

‘Fine. I’m photographing the “Miss Coast to Coast” competition tonight. It shouldn’t take long. I’ll call you.’

‘Can’t you cancel it?’

‘No way, I need the bread.’

She left, and Paul finished dressing in a hurry. Out to the elevator, up two floors, and then he was knocking on the door to Al’s suite. A waiter let him in.

‘Where the fuck have you been?’ Al asked rudely. ‘I ordered you a steak sandwich, you took so fucking long I ate it.’

‘I’m not hungry. What happened to your companions?’

‘Jesus! Dogs! Horrible. I had them out of here in double time.’

‘I warned you.’

‘How would you have known? In the lobby they looked like two real little darlings. I’ll tell you what, though. I saw one I
really
fancy.’

How many times had Paul heard that. Growing up together had been a chequered path of fame, fortune, and women. Al had always fancied anything that moved and was female.

‘Who is she?’ enquired Paul. ‘And where did you find her?’

‘
You’re
going to find her,’ corrected Al. ‘I don’t know her name. I spotted her on television – there’s some beauty competition tonight – she’s in it.’

‘Miss Coast to Coast?’

‘Yeah, that’s right. How did you know?’

‘I’m a detective on the side. Only how do we find the girl if you don’t even know her name?’

‘Miss Los Angeles.’

‘Dinner tonight. It’s as good as done.’

Dallas licked already shiny lips. She stared at herself in the full-length mirror and adjusted the Miss Los Angeles sash. She wished that she could take it off, it ruined the whole effect of the leopard-skin bikini.

Later in the evening, when she won, she would have to put on the stupid crown and cover herself with the fake ermine cloak. What a drag!

Dallas knew she would win. She had taken steps to make certain she would.

‘You wearing a hair-piece?’ Miss Long Island asked bitchily, craning to see herself in the mirror.

‘Yeah,’ agreed Dallas, ‘around the crotch!’

Miss Long Island retreated angrily.

Dallas peered at herself once more in the mirror. She did look her absolute best. She deserved to win. There really was no contest. Still, it was just as well that she had taken out insurance.

‘The judges are being introduced!’ someone shouted with excitement, and the girls in the dressing-room crowded round the closed circuit television set in the corner.

A smile hovered round Dallas’s mouth. Five judges, and she had taken care of three of them. On those odds she could afford to feel secure.

‘First, the ladies,’ the announcer on television said, ‘and I would like to hear a big round of applause for that wonderful screen star, Miss April Crawford.’ April Crawford appeared, swathed in mink.

‘Now, someone we are always reading about – leader of fashion and fun, Lucy Mabel Mann.’

‘Isn’t she
pretty!
’ one of the girls exclaimed.

Yes, agreed Dallas silently. And I should know, for it was only this morning that I visited her in her Central Park West duplex and gave her the greatest head job she has ever had!

‘Now let’s hear it for Ramo Kaliffe, the man with the million-dollar eyes.’

Hello, Ramo, thought Dallas. I took care of you last night, and you were more than grateful.

‘Petro Lorenz, writer and television personality. And lastly, Ed Kurlnik, of Kurlnik Motors fame.’

Ed gave that short, embarrassed smile that Dallas had grown to know so well over the last few months. She had been taking care of Ed for exactly sixteen weeks. Twice a week, Mondays and Fridays. It was no secret that he was a married man.

The girls were being summoned together and hustled out the door. The parade was about to begin.

Dallas shook out her mane of hair and strode confidently onto the stage.

* * *

Dallas Lunde, born twenty years previously at a small zoo her parents had off the main highway outside Miami. An uneventful childhood, no brothers or sisters, but plenty of animals to play with. Her parents didn’t believe in school, so they never bothered to send her.

Sometimes, when he had the time, her father would tutor her in various subjects. He was particularly fond of geography and real life adventure.

The three of them lived a very tight life; her parents had no friends. They were some kind of religious maniacs – following a cult all their own – which made them reject any contact with the outside world. The animals they looked after were their whole life.

Dallas grew up alone. The zoo was off the beaten track, and the only other people she ever saw were the two-dollar-a-day visitors. Once a month her father went into town for supplies, and it wasn’t until Dallas was sixteen that he took her with him. She would always remember that day. The shops, the people, the cars and the noise. Along with the supplies her father collected a young man called Phil, who was to come and help out at the zoo. Unbeknown to Dallas he had also been picked out as a husband for her. She was given no choice. On her seventeenth birthday she and Phil were married.

At the time it didn’t occur to her to object. Her parents’ words were law; she had never argued. She knew nothing of the world outside. She had never even seen television or movies. The only books she had ever read were about animals and wildlife.