Seduction of Moxie (23 page)

“Have I mentioned,” Violet said, “what a pleasant surprise it is that you climax so easily?”

“You’re not the only one who’s surprised by that. If I’d known sex could be like this, I’d have been having it constantly.”

Violet ran her fingers languidly through Moxie’s hair as she held her close. “You should make a resolution to start doing that.”

“Having constant sex?”

“With me,” Violet added. “That’s a very important element of the proposed resolution. One that you shouldn’t overlook.”

“Is that what you want, Vi?”

“Among other things.”

Moxie shifted slightly and stared for a moment at Violet before speaking. “Other things like what?”

“You, Mox. I want you in my life, exclusively, and I selfishly want you to want the same.”

“Oh, I do.” She kissed Violet softly. “But what will we do about Cotton?”

“You know, he ultimately works for you. You could tell him to butt out or—”

“I’ll fire him?”

“I was going to say you’d sic Wil on him.” Violet chuckled. “But firing him might be more humane.”

“You know, I underestimated Wil’s vindictiveness.”

“And you don’t even know the half of it.”

“I’m happy to leave it that way.” She snuggled against Violet again. “You know, we should do something for that nice woman who agreed to switch rooms with you.”

“Without whom none of this would have been possible.”

“What was her name? Do you remember?”

“Um, I think it was Davis. Yes, Bette Davis.”

*

Cotton walked as slowly as he could from the water closet at the end of the train car back to the drawing room. He had never in his life been as ill as he had been for the last twenty-four hours. As though the horrible cramping and gas had not been bad enough, he had been cursed with a need to void his bowels almost every fifteen to twenty minutes, though
void
seemed like a vast understatement for something with the force of a fire hose. Worst of all, he was now reduced to limiting even simple movement, like bending or stretching, for fear that something ungodly would happen when he exerted himself.

He opened the door to the drawing room with deliberate caution and was surprised to see Wil, Irene, and some doe-eyed blonde playing cards.

“All hail, Caesar Bagodoucheus,” Will said, not even looking up from her hand before she discarded. “How’s the anus, chief?”

He was angry all over again. “Who is this? Where are Moxie and the dyke?”

The blonde scowled as she drew a card. “You weren’t exaggerating. He’s every bit as offensive as you described.”

“Shocking, isn’t it?” Wil asked.

“Rummy,” Irene called, excitedly putting down all her cards.

Wil looked irritated. “You bitch.”

“Hey. You said you’d stop calling me that if I kept playing.”

“Sorry. You’re right. I take that back.”

The blonde finished adding the score and set her pencil down. “Irene, you’re now ahead by fifty-five.”

“Twat,” Wil spat.

Irene pouted. “Hey!”

“What?” Wil asked innocently. “That’s what you yell when someone leads by any number divisible by eleven. Don’t you know the rules?”

“I didn’t realize this was twat rummy,” the blonde said.

Wil smiled. “Darling, that’s the only kind of rummy I play.”

“Who the hell
are
you?” Cotton repeated.

“To you, I’m Miss Davis,” she answered, shuffling the cards, then dealing them. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m sorry,” Wil said. “Where are my manners?” She gestured to Cotton. “Bette, this is everything that’s wrong with men.”

Bette put her cigarette in her mouth as she began to sort the cards in her hand. “In that case, we’ve already met.”

Irene laughed to the point of snorting.

“What the hell are you giggling at?” Cotton snapped. “And where are Moxie and Violet?”

“They traded rooms with Bette,” Irene replied, adding her discard to the pile.

“What? But you were supposed to keep an eye on them!”

Irene didn’t even look up. “Bette here is a contract player at Universal Studios. When we get to Hollywood, she’s promised to introduce me to some important people.”

He wasn’t following her. “Huh?”

“I don’t need you and your intimidation,” Irene clarified. “So stuff it up your ass, pal.”

Wil drew a card. “I don’t know, ’Reeny. It’s been a very busy orifice lately.”

Bette exhaled smoke through her nose. “Do you mean him? Or are you actually talking about his rectum?”

Wil seemed to ponder the question. “As much as I can imagine referring to Cotton when I say it’s been a very busy orifice, I meant his toxic—”

“Shut up!” They all stared at Cotton, though the disdain in their eyes was apparent. “I am sick of every one of you—your sarcasm and your base crassness.”

Bette turned back to her cards. “Wil, you didn’t mention what a blustering nance he was.”

“Didn’t I? It must have slipped my mind.”

Cotton couldn’t take any more of being spoken about as though he wasn’t even in the room. “That’s it! I’m done with all of you. Good luck trying to get your pathetic careers off the ground. You won’t get any help from me.” He looked directly at Bette. “Especially you, you bug-eyed bitch. You’ll never get anywhere with that face.”

He stormed into his room, slamming the door. As he lay on the bed, he felt no remorse for his outburst. Those women didn’t know who they were dealing with.

Chapter Fourteen

One at a time, all five women descended the train steps, finally arriving at the final stop of Pasadena. Violet set Clitty down in the grass so he could frolic and tend to nature’s impulses.

“My God,” Moxie said. “It’s beautiful here.”

“You think that now,” Bette answered with a throaty laugh, lighting her cigarette. “Wait until they start feasting on you like locusts.”

Moxie’s face fell. “Um—”

“And latch on to you until you’re nothing but a dried husk,” Bette continued.

“What a picturesque backdrop you’ve painted,” Violet said.

“Good Lord.” Wil extended her hand before her brow to block the bright sunlight. “Look at all those…what do you call those things that you vomit and pass out under?”

“Trees,” Violet replied.

“Ah, yes. That’s right.”

“What have you been vomiting and passing out under since you’ve been in the city, Wil?” Moxie asked.

“Men.” She adjusted her skirt.

“Wil, congratulations on keeping your legs together and your wits about you this entire trip,” Violet said sincerely. “I realize it may have been difficult for you at times.”

Bette smiled. “Especially with that agent.”

Wil put her hands over Irene’s ears. “Watch your language, madam. We try not to use the
A
-word.”

“Especially since Moxie’s
A
-word happens to
be
such an
A
-word,” Violet added.

“Well, as horrid as that man and his emanations were, I did manage to have a lovely time,” Bette said. “It was by far the best twat rummy I’ve ever played. But now I must be going.” She hugged the others and bid them farewell.

“I can give you a lift, Bette,” Violet said. “My driver is here.”

“Thanks, Vi. But I have a ride waiting too. He’s right over there.” Bette pointed to a convertible coupe. “So you’re all staying at the Garden of Allah?”

“As long as they’ll have us,” Wil said.

Bette removed her cigarette from her mouth as she chuckled. “Clearly you’ve never stayed there before. I’m not sure there’s anyone they
wouldn’t
have.”

Violet put her hand on Wil’s shoulder. “And in that way, the Garden of Allah is very much like Wil.”

Wil’s eyes narrowed. “Are you channeling Julian or something?”

“As a tribute to him,” Violet explained, “I couldn’t let a golden opportunity to call you a whore slip by untried.”

Wil sighed. “It does make me miss him.”

“Well,” Bette said, “I know where to reach you all. Good luck.”

“Where’s Cotton?” Moxie asked, as they all waved good-bye to Bette.

“I’m not sure,” Violet replied. “But there’s our car. We should probably get in it before Mr. McCann appears and sees Clitty.”

Moxie frowned. “Why?”

Violet gestured to the two porters carrying their bags which car was hers. “Clitty may have left a souvenir of sorts in Mr. McCann’s shoe.”

“A souvenir?” Irene asked. “Like what?”

“It’s smaller than a breadbox,” Wil hinted. “And it smells like shit.”

“Oh.”

“Hiya, Fitzy.” As he waited dutifully holding the rear door open, Violet grabbed his chin and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “Ladies, may I present Fitzhugh, driver to the stars and currently slumming it with me. Fitzy, this is Irene, Wil, and Moxie.”

“It’s a pleasure, ladies,” he said as they all piled in. “Are you headed to the Garden, Vi?” He started the engine.

“Yes, thanks.” Violet set Clitty on the seat beside her.

“Wait,” Moxie said. “We can’t leave without Cotton. How will he find us?”

“She’s serious, isn’t she?” Wil looked incredulous.

“It would seem so,” Violet answered.

“We can’t just leave him.”

They all stared at each other in silence.

“The hell we can’t.” Irene banged her fist twice on the upholstered roof of the vehicle. “Let’s go!”

“Well, I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Moxie mumbled softly.

“Of course he will. He’s not a child, after all,” Wil said. “Even if he
does
shit his pants like one.”

When there were no further protestations, Fitzhugh pulled into the street, headed toward Los Angeles.

Violet caught Fitzhugh’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Did you manage to get hold of some contraband, Fitzy?”

“I couldn’t look you in the eye if I hadn’t, Vi. Check under the blanket.”

Wil pulled the blanket to her left away to reveal a bucket filled with an iced bottle of champagne and several glasses. “Holy shit! We’re not even there yet, and it’s already like heaven.” She started fiddling with the cork.

“So, Fitzy, have I missed anything beyond the standard daily moral decay?”

“Your agent has been trying to reach you about your next picture for Pinnacle. Did you have a good jaunt to New York?”

Violet couldn’t suppress a grin. “It was the best fucking train trip ever.”

Moxie blushed slightly.

The loud pop of the cork surprised everyone, and Wil made quick work of filling a glass for each passenger. “Ladies, let us all toast to our success out here. To bright lights and free booze.”

“Wait, Wil,” Violet said. “Isn’t that what you just left in Manhattan?”

“Good point. Then to trees, movie contracts, and free booze.”

“Hear, hear,” Irene added.

They clinked their glasses together as the fragrant smell from the orange groves washed over them.

*

“Wow.” Irene couldn’t contain her excitement and wonder at the passing view of Hollywood as they drove to Sunset Boulevard.

“See that little bungalow?” Violet pointed out the limo window.

“Yeah.”

“That’s where Charlie Chaplin molested his first underage girl.”

Irene’s face fell. “What? The little tramp?”

“Chaplin?” Wil asked. “Or the girl?”

Moxie elbowed Violet in the side. “Can you try a little harder not to disillusion her before we even get out of the car?”

“I guess you don’t want to stop and read the commemorative plaque, then,” she said, twisting the corner of her mouth wryly upward.

“Perhaps another time,” Moxie whispered in amusement.

“Hey, while we’re sightseeing,” Wil said, “can we see where Clara Bow lost her dignity? That must be out here somewhere.”

Irene seemed irritated by this turn in the conversation. “You guys are pretty glib about other people’s careers. I bet you’d feel differently if it were yours.”

“Perhaps,” Violet replied. “But try and remember what I told you, Irene. People out here are just folks, like you and me. They aren’t royalty.”

“I’ll try— Jumpin’ cats! Is this where we’re staying?”

The limo turned into the driveway in front of the big house at the Garden of Allah.

“It is,” Violet said slowly.

Moxie was awestruck as well. The place was nothing if not impressive with its beautiful Spanish bungalows, shady trees, and exotic-looking vegetation. Once they came to a stop, Fitzhugh opened the door and they all poured out.

“By the way, Vi,” Fitzhugh said. “Peter says he’s having a little soirée tonight to welcome you all.”

“Wonderful. What time?”

“Seven.”

“Done. We’ll see you there?”

Fitzhugh smiled warmly as he started to remove their bags from the car and set them in the driveway. “You will.”

“Thanks for the ride, Fitzy.” Violet blew him a kiss before walking into the front office, the others following. “Good day, Captain,” Violet called to the plump man behind the counter. “I’ve brought you some new guests who need to check in.”

“Captain?” Irene asked Moxie softly.

“Captain Napkin,” she whispered. “I’ll have to tell you that story later.”

As Lyle turned to greet then, Moxie quickly realized that the garment around his neck was not a silky ascot, but a brassiere for a rather busty woman. “Miss London. Welcome home. And how many bungalows will you ladies require?” He snapped open the register with a flourish.

“I think just one,” Wil said. “Nice necktie, Blinky.”

“Thank you kindly.” He straightened the cup closest to his chin. “I’ll give you bungalow ten, so you can be near Miss London.” Lyle handed Wil a fountain pen. “If you could just enter your information on line three, please, I’ll have your bags taken there for you.”

Violet motioned for Moxie to follow her back several feet from the counter. “I figure you can stay with me in eleven. There’s plenty of room, provided you’re comfortable with that arrangement.”

Moxie’s libido sprang to life, and she bit her lower lip and smiled flirtatiously. “Oh, I’m
very
comfortable with that.”

Violet looked at her with unconcealed lust. “That’s good to hear, because I have a surprise for you.”