Lovers and Gamblers (6 page)

She greeted the man with a friendly kiss and a ‘hey baby sugar. We gonna have ourselves a party.’ Then she requested a hundred dollars which she tucked safely into her boots. ‘This your wife?’ she asked, indicating Dallas. She had a habit of emphasizing the last word of every sentence.

‘Just another hooker,’ the man said, and a thick excitement was creeping into his voice.

Dallas sat watching bemusedly.

‘Well!’ exclaimed Bobbie, arms akimbo. ‘Watcha want, man? What’s your pleasure?’

‘Undress me. Both of you.’

‘Sure, sweetie honey. Bobbie will do a job on you that you ain’t never gonna forget.’ She turned and smiled at Dallas. ‘You gonna help out, sister?’

Dallas stood up. She was wearing a red bikini.

Bobbie grinned at her, ‘We all gonna have ourselves a little fun. Good clean dirty
fun
!’

She wriggled out of her hot pants, revealing a thick bush of wiry pubic hair. ‘Take your drawers off,’ she instructed Dallas. ‘Let’s get this dude really in the mood. I don’t want no limp dicks come hangin’  out at me when I peel down his pants.’

Dallas slipped off the bottom half of her bikini, and for the first time since Burt Keyes she felt a strange sexual stirring.

‘Let’s get this show shakin’. Lie down, mister, I’m a gonna give it to you
good
!’ Bobbie slithered his clothes off him as he lay immobile. Dallas stood watching as Bobbie casually hoisted herself on top of him.

‘Come on, baby,’ Bobbie encouraged. ‘Show him your titties, sit on his face, do
somethin
’
!
’

The situation was strange to Dallas, She didn’t know what to do. And all the time there was this strange building excitement. She unhooked her bikini top.

‘Hey, momma!’ shrieked Bobbie, bouncing happily up and down. ‘You have got yourself a real pair!’ She climbed off the man, leaving him gasping. ‘Wanna see a show, daddy? Wanna see a little female action?’

The man nodded, his face red, his eyes bulging.

‘So!’ stated Bobbie, and she smiled at Dallas. ‘Watcha say, sister? You wanna be the fella? Or will you leave it all to big bad Bobbie?’

‘I don’t know…’ stammered Dallas. This was one situation that television hadn’t covered.

‘Lie down,’ said Bobbie with a wicked grin. ‘I always did like
virgins!
’

* * *

‘You’re a very lucky girl,’ Mrs. Fields said crisply, as they sat in the limousine whisking them to the luxury of the Plaza.

‘Yeah,’ replied Dallas in mocking tones, ‘a lucky little girl.’

Mrs. Fields looked at her sharply; she hoped this one wasn’t going to be difficult. The previous year’s winner had been a sweet child, but the year before that the girl had been a bitch and caused everyone a lot of trouble.

‘There will be a photo call at nine thirty in the morning. Usual thing, sitting up in bed wearing a nightie and the crown. Then we’re to go to the office for you to sign some contracts. Lunch will be with a representative of a wool firm. If they decide to sign you it could be most lucrative. In the afternoon you open a supermarket, and in the evening you will go to the première of
Guns at Dawn
. Do you have a boyfriend?’

‘No.’

‘Good. Much better that way. Boyfriends can get very jealous. This title will make a lot of difference to your life. You will be amazed at all the important people you’ll meet. “Miss Coast to Coast” 1966 married a Senator. She was a lovely girl.’

‘Was he?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Joke.’

‘Oh. Well anyway, there are a few things you would do well to remember. You will be in the public eye for a year, and if you conduct your private life discreetly it will be much better for all concerned. A lot of men will be after you, but as far as this title is concerned, morals are most important. My advice to you – and I have been looking after “Miss Coast to Coast” for thirteen years – is to not let it all go to your head. Remember your home and your family. Remember your grass roots.’

Dallas choked back a laugh.

‘I shall be staying at the Plaza with you for a week,’ Mrs. Fields continued. ‘During that time your year’s reign will be planned, and we will find you a suitable place to live, and of course, after that I will accompany you on any out-of-town trips, and I will always be available for help and advice.’

‘Sounds like a heavy schedule.’

‘ “Miss Coast to Coast” 1972 made a hundred thousand dollars. She was dedicated. She worked hard and she never complained.’

Dallas was silent. A hundred thousand dollars was a lot of bread. Not bad. She had entered the contest for a joke, an ego trip. Now perhaps she should look at things more seriously. She would have to ask Ed’s advice. He might not be too thrilled now she had won. She would ask him later at the party.

* * *

Dallas went to live with Bobbie. It was nice to have a proper home again after so many hotel rooms.

‘Twenty dollars a lay!’ Bobbie had scoffed. ‘And all-nighters too! Kid – you bin
givin’
it away! From now on you’re with me, and we don’t do nothin’ under a hundred apiece. Stick with me, baby queen, and we will all get rich!’

Bobbie lived in an untidy one-room apartment with mice roaming the kitchen, shabby furniture, and a closet full of kinky outfits. She had connections with most of the hotel clerks and her phone never stopped ringing. Most important, she had television, colour, twenty-eight-inch screen.

She taught Dallas everything she could. At first Dallas was a reluctant learner, but as her body responded to Bobbie she began to enjoy their relationship. Bobbie was the first person to come along that seemed to care about her.

Making love with men had never triggered any response, but with Bobbie it was different, and sex took on new meanings.

Bobbie organized their business engagements. She told Dallas what to do, what to wear. She taught her how to turn men on in exciting, new and inventive ways.

‘You can fuck ’em shitless,’ she advised Dallas, ‘but it’s only a job – keep it businesslike, never let them get to you. I’m the only one that can get to you – right, sugar sweet?
Right
.’

Dallas agreed. But she didn’t really agree. Deep down she knew that Burt Keyes could have got to her.

Six months went by. Then one night there was a call from a motel on the highway.

‘Shoes. Chocolate sauce on your tits. Raincoat,’ Bobbie instructed. ‘I know this old dude, all he wants to do is lick the sauce off and come in your shoes.’ She giggled. ‘He’s old!’

Bobbie drove them to the motel in her battered Ford. She was laughing and chattering all the way.

Dallas felt strange with the chocolate stickiness on her breasts, and her nakedness sticking to the plastic raincoat.

The man was indeed old. Bobbie had forgotten to mention the fact that he would be wearing pyjamas with his shrunken penis hanging limply out.

‘He must be about ninety!’ Dallas whispered. ‘I don’t think I can stand it.’

Bobbie threw her a stern look. ‘I never back out on a promise. I’ll make it up to you later. Let’s go.’

They took off their raincoats, and the old man’s eyes shone with a long lost desire. He lay down, and Bobbie leaned over him, dangling her chocolate-coated nipple over his mouth. Dallas did the same. The old man licked feebly.

After a few minutes Bobbie took off her shoe and held it over the old man’s slightly aroused penis. ‘Let’s do it for mamma!’ she crooned.

He started to come in great heaves and jerks.

Dallas turned away. Was that the moment she decided that this wasn’t the life for her?

Suddenly there was a strange, groaning, rattling noise, then silence.

‘Oh Holy God!’ exclaimed Bobbie suddenly. ‘The old bastard died on us. He
died!
’

Dallas turned slowly round. Surely Bobbie was making one of her usual jokes? But when she saw the old man lying there, she knew that he was dead.

Bobbie slapped him on the face. ‘Wake up!’ she commanded.
‘Wake up!
’

‘If he’s dead,’ stated Dallas blankly, ‘what are we going to do?

Bobbie gathered her raincoat up. ‘Get the hell out of here, that’s what we’ll do.’

‘But what about the police? They’ll know we were here, the desk clerk called you, he’ll tell them.’

‘We didn’t kill him.’

‘I don’t want to see the police.’

‘I’m with you, sister. We’ll get the hell out. Nobody will find him till the morning, we can be in LA by then.’

‘Have we got enough money?’

‘Sure and he hasn’t paid us.’ Bobbie looked for his bankroll, found it, started to peel off two hundred-dollar bills, thought better of it and pocketed the lot. ‘Let’s go, sugar baby. Let’s get our asses out of here.’

* * *

Dallas was the star of the party, and she positively glowed in the limelight. Everyone wanted to talk to her, men and women alike.

Ed Kurlnik hovered nearby. He had to be cool, couldn’t be obvious. Ramo Kaliffe flashed Arab white teeth in her direction. Lucy Mabel Mann smiled sweetly and invited her to lunch.

‘Miami Beach has gone off to meet Al King,’ Miss Boston volunteered. ‘Isn’t she the lucky one.’

Dallas smiled, and vaguely recalled some photographer offering her the chance of a night with Al King. Who needed that scene? Stars were boring. Boring people. Boring fucks. All they did was talk about themselves and break a leg to reach the mirror first.

‘I think I’ll stay at the apartment tonight,’ Ed managed to inform her.

‘I thought you always had to go home on Saturdays?’

‘Tonight will be an exception.’

She had only won a matter of hours earlier, and already Ed was prepared to make exceptions. ‘I have to stay at the Plaza for a week.’

Ed raised his eyebrows, ‘You don’t
have
to.’

‘But I think I will.’

Ed frowned. ‘Why?’

‘Why not? I’ve always wanted to stay at the Plaza.’

‘Why didn’t you say so before? We could have done so any time.’

‘Any time, Ed?’ He was scared to even walk down the street with her. If wifey ever knew she would clamp down on his seventy million dollars like a vice.

‘If you like,’ Dallas offered slyly, ‘you could come and see me at the hotel later.’ The thought of Ed Kurlnik sneaking into the Plaza to visit her brought tears of laughter.

‘I can’t do that,’ replied Ed, outraged. ‘You know I can’t do that.’

They were interrupted by a photographer snapping random shots, and Ed nipped smartly out of the picture.

Dallas yawned. It had been a tiring day and she was exhausted. But so what? She was a somebody. She was ‘Miss Coast to Coast’, and she couldn’t flake out on her night of triumph.

This was her night and she was determined to enjoy it.

Al woke late with a feeling of apprehension. He didn’t feel that good, in fact he felt dreadful.

He lay in bed, opened his eyes, and did not feel like getting up at all.

He knew why he felt bad. It was fear, plain honest-to-goodness fucking nerves.

The forthcoming tour was bugging the hell out of him.

Why was he so nervous? He had tried to figure it out. It wasn’t like he had never been on the road before; he had done many successful tours. But the last one had been two years previously, and two years was a long time between gigs. OK, so there had been the cabaret dates, the television spectaculars, the records. But basically what Al
liked
, what he
wanted,
was that contact with a huge live audience. Going out there and doing your thing was what it was all about. The ultimate high.

He had made so much money in the last few years. If he wanted to pack it in and never work again he would be more than set. So the records weren’t selling so well – they tried to keep it from him, but he was well aware of every happening in his career. So what did the tour
really
mean to him?

It meant finding out how the people felt. Were the same fans who had been out there two years ago still going to be around? Were they still going to react with the same degree of enthusiasm? Was he still the tops? Or was he, at thirty-seven, a little too old for the adulation and hysteria? Would he now be regarded as just another establishment star?

He still looked great. He still sounded the same. Was that good or bad? Would they expect him to have changed?

And would his voice still be up to it? Would it survive the strain of God knows how many performances in vast stadiums?

Al coughed nervously. He wished the goddamn tour would start already. Every morning he woke up to the same fears and it was getting him down. He couldn’t even discuss his thoughts with Paul, he didn’t want to give voice to his doubts. Maybe when he got home he would tell Edna, but knowing her she would probably suggest that he cancel the whole tour and stay at home. Her secret dream was that they would lose all their money and move back into one room.

Edna was still the same sweet, simple girl that he had married. She hadn’t changed with his success. She hadn’t grown.

In a way Al was grateful, but in another way he resented her. Why didn’t she read more? Entertain? Wear beautiful clothes?
Improve
herself?

He had changed, and he was glad of it. When he had started in the business he had been very rough, a right layabout. Now he could go anywhere, meet anyone, and feel perfectly at ease.

Edna was more like a mother than a wife. Always there. Always uncomplaining. Hot meals. Clean shirts. She was the one who took his cock out to massage his balls because his stage trousers were too tight. That was about the only time she took it out too. He sighed. Every day the bridge seemed to get wider.

Of course he should never have got married. But then he would not have had Evan, and it was wonderful to have a son, even if the boy did need taking in hand.