The Love Machine (29 page)

Dan poured himself a second cup of coffee. Jerry Moss was making sense. One shot of notoriety and the Christie Lane-type sponsorship would pull out. They had gone along with the
Amanda “romance” because it represented the Walter Mitty dream of every average Joe. A plain guy winding up with the most beautiful girl in the world. If Christie could do it, anything was possible. He gave people hope. They had fantasized with him even more when Amanda jilted him for the flamboyant Ike Ryan. And now they were latching on to Ethel Evans because she looked like the average girl. Jerry was right! It really was a mess!

The luncheon ended with his ulcer burning and his promise to step in and end the Ethel Evans-Christie Lane relationship immediately.

Dan thought about the situation for several days. He knew he’d have to take her off the show. Jesus, what had she said in her letter about him? He called the publicity department. He was informed that she could be reached at the beauty parlor. Beauty parlor! It would take a plastic surgeon to help her. He took the phone number and placed the call.

“Hi!” She sounded very cheerful.

“Is today some kind of holiday I don’t know about? Why the unsolicited afternoon off?”

She laughed. “I go steady now and have to look nice. And tonight’s the big night.”

“Tonight?” He suddenly remembered. The TV Golden Personality Award. IBC had taken a table. Next to the Emmy, this was the biggest TV event.

“Are you going?” he asked. He knew it was a stupid question—of course she was going.

“Are you?” she countered.

“I have to. Chris is up for an award, so is Robin Stone, and Gregory Austin is on the dais.”

“I guess I’ll see you then—we’ll probably be sitting at the same table. Oh, by the way, Dan, what was it you called me about?”

“Maybe I wanted to ask you to go with me,” he said. This was not the moment to give her the ultimatum. It had to be done in person.

Her laugh was not nice. “Let’s stop playing games. My hair is wet and I want to get back under the dryer. What’s the reason for the call?”

“I’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“We do the show tomorrow. I’ll be busy, and Carruthers is giving a little party after the show.”

“Only you won’t be going,” he said. He knew his timing was bad, but this was too much.

“Come again?”

“Tonight will be your last public or private appearance with Chris.”

She was silent for a moment. Then she said, “Are you jealous?”

“This is an official order.”

“By whom?”

“Me!
The Christie Lane Show
belongs to IBC. It’s my duty to protect a property. Let’s just say your image is not right for a family-type show. So after tonight I want you to give Chris the air.”

“And suppose I don’t?”

“Then you’re fired from IBC.”

She was silent.

“Do you hear me, Ethel?”

Her voice was hard. “Okay, sonny boy. Sure you can get me fired. But maybe I don’t care. IBC isn’t the only game in town. There’s always CBS, NBC and ABC.”

“Not if I spread the word about why you were fired.”

“You mean it’s illegal to boff Christie Lane—or presidents of networks?”

“No. But sending pornographic writing through the mail is. I happen to have some copies of letters you wrote to a girl friend in Los Angeles giving graphic and clinical reports on your sex life.”

She tried to brazen it out. “Okay—so I won’t work. It’ll give me more time for Christie.”

He laughed. “From what I understand, generosity is not one of Christie Lane’s virtues. But maybe you know another side of him. After all, I forget how close you are. Maybe he’ll set you up in an apartment, give you an allowance.”

“You son of a bitch!” Her voice stabbed through the phone.

“Look. Dump Christie. Your job stays and I’ll see that you get assigned to another show.”

“I’ll make a deal,” she said. “Get me the Robin Stone show and Christie Lane won’t be able to get me on the phone.”

Dan was thoughtful. “We offered to assign someone to him way back, but he refused. Let me see what I can do. I promise I’ll try and swing it. If not, there are other shows.”

“I said the Robin Stone show.”

“I’m afraid you’re not in a position to call the shots. I’ll
try
and get you Robin Stone. But remember, tonight is the last time you see Christie Lane. You make an appearance at his show tomorrow, and you’re through!”

That night she dressed with care. Her hair had grown longer and she had added an auburn tint. The green dress was good-low-cut and showed her breasts to full advantage. Her hips were still too large, but the full skirt hid them. She appraised herself in the mirror and she was pleased. She was no Amanda, but if she remembered not to smile and show that damn separation between her teeth, she didn’t look bad. Not bad at all… .

The Grand Ballroom of the Waldorf was jammed. Chris led her in and shouted greetings to every table he passed. The dais was impressive: stacked with heads of all the networks, some Broadway stars, the mayor, and a motion-picture executive. Ethel spotted Gregory Austin and his beautiful wife in the center of the dais. A columnist was talking to her. Her head was bent almost as if she was giving audience, rather than listening. Ethel followed Chris to the IBC table, directly in front of the dais. Dan Miller was already seated. He was with a thirtyish-looking brunette. Trust Dan to dig up the right type for tonight. Almost like he called an agent and said, “Send me a society type—black dress, pearls, not too big on the boobs.” There were two empty seats beside her. Could they be for Robin Stone? They had to be—all the others were taken. That meant he’d be sitting right next to her. She hadn’t counted on such a windfall.

He arrived late with an exquisite girl, Inger Gustar, a new German actress. Ethel took out a cigarette. Christie made no move, but to her amazement, Robin held out his lighter.

“I admire your taste,” she said quietly. “I saw her picture last week. She can’t act, but it doesn’t matter.” When he didn’t answer, Ethel pressed on. “Is this serious or just something new?” She tried to make her voice bantering.

He smiled and said, “Eat your grapefruit.”

“I don’t like grapefruit.”

“It’s good for you.” He didn’t look up.

“I
don’t
always like the things that are good for me.”

The music began. Robin suddenly stood up. “Okay, Ethel, let’s try it.”

She flushed with delight. Could that mean she had finally gotten through to him? Maybe the green dress and the red tint to her hair had helped more than she thought. He danced for a few minutes in silence. She pressed closer to him. He pulled away and looked at her. His face was void of any expression and his lips barely seemed to move. But the words came out cold and clear.

“Listen, you silly broad, don’t you know that maybe for the first time in your life you have a chance at the brass ring? I gave you credit for some brains—now use them, and try and come up a winner.”

“Maybe I’m not interested in brass rings.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning Christie Lane doesn’t appeal to me.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “You really are choosy. I like your guts anyway.”

“And I like everything about you.” Her voice was insinuating and soft.

She felt his body stiffen. Without looking at her he said, “Sorry, no dice.”

“Why?”

He pulled away and looked at her. “Because I’m choosy too.”

She stared at him. “Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you. Let’s say that until now the only thing I felt about you was that you had a fair amount of brainpower and nerve. But now I’m beginning to wonder. You’ve got Christie Lane, don’t sell him short. He may not be Sinatra, but his show is hot. He’ll last a long long time.”

“Robin, tell me something. Why did you ask me to dance?”

“Because it’s going to be a long night and I’m not up to ten or twelve veiled propositions from you. I thought I’d set the record straight right off. The answer is no.”

She looked at the German girl dancing near them. “No for tonight.” She smiled.

“No for any night.”

“Why?” She looked into his eyes.

“Want me to be frank?”

“Yes.” She smiled without showing her teeth.

“I couldn’t get it up for you, baby—it’s as simple as that.”

Her face went tense. “I didn’t know you had problems. So that’s your hangup.”

He smiled. “It would be with you.”

“Maybe that’s why Amanda blew you off for Ike Ryan. The great Robin Stone—all charm, all talk, no action. She even cheated on you with Chris.”

He stopped dancing and took her arm. “I think we’d better go back to the table.”

Her smile was evil. She refused to move. “Oh, did I hit you where it hurts, Mr. Stone?”

“I feel no pain, baby. I just don’t think you’re entitled to gossip about Amanda.” Once again he tried to lead her off the floor, but she forced him into a dancing position.

“Robin, give me a chance. Try it with me just once! No strings! You can have me whenever you snap your fingers. And I’m good insurance. I’ll satisfy you—you’ll never lose your head over a girl like Amanda again.”

He looked at her with a strange smile. “And I’ll bet you’re healthy as a horse.”

“I’ve never been sick in my life.”

He nodded. “It figures.”

She looked at him evenly. “Well?”

“Ethel”—he almost sighed—”send in your first team with Chris Lane!”

“I can’t.” She shook her head. “It’s not up to me—I’ve been given orders to cut out.”

He was genuinely interested. “By whom?”

“Danton Miller. Sure, it’s great for him to bang me whenever he wants, but this afternoon he informed me I am to give up Chris—seems we are getting too much publicity. I’m not good for the family image and if I don’t follow his orders he’s going to fire me.”

“What are you going to do?”

Well, at least she had his interest. Maybe this was the tactic—don’t come on strong, play it for sympathy. Why not? She had tried everything else. She tried to work some tears to her eyes but nothing happened. She said, “What can I do?” and looked at him helplessly.

“You’re losing me with the Shirley Temple bit. If you’re a broad, act like one, don’t suddenly turn girlish and beg for sympathy.” He grinned at her. “You’ve been playing a man’s game, with a man’s rules. I’d put you up against Danton Miller any day.”

She stared at him curiously. “You mean I should fight Dan Miller?” She shook her head. “I haven’t a chance—unless you give me a job working on your show. You said I have a brain-let’s forget sex for now. Give me a chance, Robin. I can do a lot for your show. I can get you important publicity.”

“Forget it.” He cut her short. “I’m not a performer—”

“But let me be assigned to your show. I’ll type, do anything you want.”

“Nope.”

“Why not?” She was pleading.

“Because I give nothing out of charity, pity or sympathy.”

“What about friendship?”

“We are not friends.”

“I’ll be your friend. I’ll do anything for you—just name it.”

“Well, right now there’s nothing I want more out of life than to end this dance.”

She broke away from him and stared with hate. “Robin Stone—I hope you rot in hell!”

His grin was easy. He took her arm and led her off the floor. “That’s it, baby, get some spirit. I like you better this way.” They had reached the table. He thanked her for the dance with a pleasant smile.

It was a long dull evening. Chris was chosen as the outstanding personality in a new show. Robin’s
In Depth
show won the news category. When the speeches were over the curtains on the opposite side of the room parted, the band played a fanfare and everyone groaned inwardly as they turned their chairs to watch the entertainment.

Robin grabbed the German girl and they ducked out the moment the lights dimmed. But Chris remained at the table along with the other IBC personnel and watched the show.

Ethel stared at the two empty chairs. Who the hell was
he
to have the independence to walk out? Even Danton Miller sat and watched the tedious show. Chris wouldn’t have dared to leave and Chris was twice as important as Robin Stone. Come to think of it, Chris was even more important than Dan Miller. Dan could get fired any time—and right now he was in favor
because
of Chris! How dare he threaten her! As long as she had Chris she was bigger than Danton Miller. And bigger than Robin Stone. Suddenly she realized that Chris was the only thing she had going for her. She was thirty-one. She couldn’t just keep going on humping any celebrity that came along. In a few years they wouldn’t want her.