Crystal (6 page)

“And this is his friend—what did you say your name
was, honey?” Rosemarie asked.

“Crystal.”

“Well”—Earl took Crystal’s hand in his—“any new friend of Rosemarie’s is a new friend of mine, too. May I have this dance?”

The band was playing an upbeat tune. Crystal couldn’t believe she was actually dancing with Earl Morgan. There were photographers all around them, and Crystal was only vaguely aware that they were taking pictures.

Earl talked to Crystal as they danced, asking if she was from New York and had she ever been to Hollywood. Crystal wasn’t sure what she was saying in return. Earl’s voice was like a cat’s purr in her ear. He danced well, and she wondered if he could feel her heart beating against his chest.

When the dance was over Earl Morgan took her hands in his and held them so the fingertips came together. And then, as he looked into her eyes, he kissed her fingertips and thanked her for dancing with him.

When Crystal sat down next to Sean Farrell, he seemed annoyed.

“I hope that Morgan’s not trying to cut me,” he said. “You know that part that Danny Glover played in
Lethal Weapon
was originally supposed to be for a White guy.”

“You think he’s trying to cut you?” Crystal asked.

Another columnist, one that Crystal recognized, came over.

“Hi, I’m Jim Carroll,” he said. “Wasn’t that Earl Morgan you were dancing with?”

“Yes,” Crystal said. “It was.”

“And you’re…?”

“Crystal.”

“Just Crystal?”

“Yes.”

“Hi, Sean, how’s it going?” Carroll turned to Sean.

“Not bad,” Sean said. “Got the series coming up and I’m considering a part in a Spielberg flick, so things can’t be too shabby.”

“You and Spielberg?” Carroll looked at Sean and shrugged. “Could be, I guess, could be.”

The rest of the evening Crystal spent looking into Sean’s eyes and thinking about Earl Morgan. People kept coming by their table and speaking to Sean, most of them asking who Crystal was. When Sean said that the evening was a success and it was time to go, she followed numbly to the waiting limousine.

When Crystal got home, it was almost three in the morning. Her father was in his shirtsleeves in front of the house drinking a beer. The wooden box he was sitting on leaned at a precarious angle to the red-brick wall.

“Hi, Daddy,” Crystal said.

“Don’t ‘Hi, Daddy’ me, girl.” Daniel Brown turned his head away. “You know what time it is?”

“The limo brought me home.”

“The hell do I care about that?” Angry lines appeared on his forehead. His eyes were bloodshot and the smell of stale beer on his breath made Crystal nervous.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” Crystal put her hands on her father’s. “I didn’t think I was going to be out this late.”

“You have a good time being out here all hours of the damn night?”

“It was okay.”

“What you mean it was
okay
?”

“It was really kind of great,” Crystal said.

“You gonna tell me all about it, so I can eat my heart out?”

“Yep, even the part about me dancing with Earl Morgan!”

“Earl Morgan? Get out of here!”

“Really!”

“Well, let’s get on upstairs. You can tell me about it in the morning. I’m too mad to listen tonight.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Ain’t no child looking as good as you supposed to be out this late, girl.”

“You really think I look good tonight, Daddy?”

“Crystal”—Daniel Brown turned and took his daughter’s face in his hands—“sometimes I look at you and see how good you look and it scares me. Being as pretty as you are and all, it may make you think it’s all too easy.”

“It seemed pretty easy tonight, Daddy.”

“Yeah, honey.” Daniel Brown and his daughter, Crystal, their arms around each other, started up the stairs. “But I still got to find out if Earl Morgan got frisky. I mean, if he did I’m going to have to go knock him out.”

“He said he was going back to Hollywood tomorrow.”

“That’s okay, baby, people get knocked out in Hollywood, too.”

BUT, EARL…

 

Earl Morgan, hot from the movie set of
A Matter of Love
, was in Sharo’s last night. We caught the Torrid One with Crystal, the exotic and ravishing newcomer to the club scene. Which brings up two questions and a but…Question number one—Where was Denise Sarno, the Torrid One’s live-in throb? Question two—Is Crystal the Lady X that figures in Paramount’s planned pic? Now, for the but…Crystal’s gorgeous, Torrid One, and charming…BUT…didn’t she arrive at Sharo’s with none other than Sean Farrell???? Will this be just a cozy coffee klatch or do I smell T-R-O-U-B-L-E brewing?

 

“Now you can tell me the truth,” Pat said, pushing a glob of Jell-O to one side of her tray in the noisy lunchroom. “How does he look up close?”

“He’s really nice looking,” Crystal answered.

“Really
nice
looking?” Pat frowned up her face. “What kind of talk is that? Is the fool as fine in person as he is in the movies, that’s what I want to know.”

“I guess he is,” Crystal said. “I mean, like the article said, I did go with Sean, so I was a little worried when Earl asked me to dance.”

“You were?” Pat’s attention drifted away to a dream world of her own.

“Sean was furious!”

“He was?”

“Did you know that he was short?”

“Earl?”

“Uh-uh, Sean,” Crystal said. She had brought a plastic cup of fruit salad from home for lunch and was picking out the bananas. “He’s about my height.”

“He’s got nice eyes, though,” Pat said.

“They’re deeper blue than they look on television,” Crystal said, smiling at her friend. “You can really tell when he’s close and you look right into his eyes.”

“How about Earl?” Pat wriggled in her seat. “Tell me about Earl.”

“He’s okay, I guess,” Crystal said, pretending to examine her nails. “I mean, if you like chocolate pudding that’s six foot two, a mustache, pearly white teeth, black curly hair and dimples, then he’s okay.”

“I think my heart just stopped,” Pat said.

“I enjoy that kind of thing, but I don’t let it get to me,” Crystal said. “Not really.”

“I’d let it get to me,” Pat said. “I showed Donald your picture in the paper and you know what he said?”

“What?”

“He said it wasn’t no big thing, because
his
picture was in the paper once. I asked him what his picture was in the paper for, and he come telling me about how he saved some kid from being bit by a dog, and it turned out the dog belonged to the guy that owned the newspaper.”

“I don’t see why you even talk to him,” Crystal said.

“He’s okay,” Pat said. “He’s so cute, and he knocks me out with his corny little love poems.”

“Love poems?”

“Uh-huh. The other day he come up with something about ‘Violets are blue, daisies are yellow/My love’s in bloom, since I been your fellow.’”

“And you like that childish stuff?”

“Love it to death, child,” Pat said. “Here he come now with Charlie Harris from the tennis team.”

The two boys, Donald and Charlie, brought their trays and sat down with Crystal and Pat.

“Yo, I got a new poem for you.” Donald had a wide, toothy smile.

“Crystal doesn’t want to hear your poems,” Pat said.

“She don’t have to listen,” Donald said. “But the world
needs
this poem.”

“I heard it,” Charlie said. “It’s pretty good.”

“‘My Love for You Is Like a Fire Hydrant, by Donald Evans.’” Donald was reading from a piece of theme paper.

“‘My love for you is like a fire hydrant, gushing out to save you from the fire of time/It is steady, despite the dogs of war/And will last, now and forevermore.’”

“That’s nice,” Pat said, glancing at Crystal, who looked up at the ceiling.

“‘My love for you is like a fire hydrant,’” Donald went
on. “‘Waiting on the sidewalk of your life/Marking off the No-Parking Zone of my feelings.’ The end.”

“He wrote a poem about a fire hydrant?” Rowena was doing stretching exercises in front of the mirror.

“They’re so silly it’s unbelievable,” Crystal said. She was waiting for Jerry to finish mounting a photo montage of her that they were going to take to Marc Everby’s office.

“I had this boyfriend once that was just so together,” Rowena said. “I think I must have loved him more than anyone or anything else in the world.”

“You broke up with him?”

“Yeah, sort of.” Rowena sat up and rested her head on her knee. “Actually, I think he broke up with me. I used to get these real deep depressions. You know, like everything is just awful and you hate yourself. I don’t suppose you ever get that way, but I do.”

“I think I know what you mean,” Crystal said. “You’re talking and no one seems to understand what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Rowena said.

“Your boyfriend didn’t like that?”

“Steve—his name’s Steve, and he’s this really big lawyer,” Rowena went on. “When I got really down, he didn’t have the time to deal with me. You know what I mean? At first I was hurt and everything, but then I figured that it takes a lot of time to deal with a person when they’re depressed. He said he didn’t have time.”

“I think that’s lousy, Rowena,” Crystal said.

“No, because most people don’t have a lot of time. Most people have to hustle around to make it and everything and
they really can’t help you. If you want to be loved and everything, you got to be happy. You can’t come on to people sad and depressed all the time. They can’t handle it.”

“Hey.” Crystal put her arm around Rowena’s shoulders.

“Don’t touch me, I’m all sweaty,” Rowena said. “You have to be perfect for Everby.”

“I’m trying not to be nervous,” Crystal said.

“No, it’s okay, you can be nervous,” Rowena said. “Men like that. It makes them feel good if you’re a little scared.”

“Then he should feel fine when he sees me,” Crystal said, “because my stomach is doing flip-flops.”

“Are we friends?” Rowena asked.

“Sure.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

“I’m glad,” Rowena said. “Because I think you’re really nice. Sometimes in this business, you’re so into being something that somebody wants you to be, you don’t have time to be friends.”

“We’re friends,” Crystal said. “We’ll make the time.”

“Thanks.”

The door to the studio opened and Jerry Goodwin started to come in just as Crystal knelt next to Rowena. Rowena wiped her hand off on her bare thigh and took Crystal’s hand in her own. The soft light from the frosted windows framed the two girls as they shared a silent moment. Jerry started to speak, thought better of it, then left the room in search of his cigarettes.

“This is the waiting room?” Crystal sat with Jerry Goodwin in the ornately designed room.

“The Blue Room is famous,” Jerry said. “I mean, have you ever been in a room with blue rugs, blue curtains, a blue piano, and blue furniture before?”

“And it looks like somebody’s living room,” Crystal said.

“Let me tell you something about Marc Everby.” Jerry lowered his voice. “The guy’s the most powerful man in the magazine business. As a matter of fact, he’s the most powerful man in the girlie business. If he wants a room that’s all blue, that’s what he’s going to get.”

“You said Loretta talked to him about me?”

“Yeah.” Jerry turned away from Crystal, inspecting the room.

Soft music came from somewhere in the room. It sounded vaguely Spanish with lots of drums. Crystal could feel the excitement in her stomach. Part of it was from Jerry. She could tell he was nervous, too. Even the way he said
La Femme
was different. He said it with a kind of reverence.

There were pictures of girls on the wall. All of them were beautiful, most of them were nude. Crystal swallowed hard.

“What exactly did Loretta say to Mr. Everby?”

“She told him that you were young and fresh,” Jerry said. “She must have been convincing, because he doesn’t see many people in person.”

“She said he was anxious to see me,” Crystal said. “That sounds good.”

“Did she tell you that he wants a new set of pictures?” Jerry asked. “Something a little fleshier?”

The music seemed farther away. Crystal glanced at Jerry, wondering what to say.

“I’m only sixteen,” she said. “I can’t…”

“He probably wouldn’t risk anything too sexy in the
magazine, but he’ll want them for the magazine’s files.”

“Just how sexy does he mean?”

“You can always say no,” Jerry said, “if that’s what you want to do.”

“I couldn’t pose for him nude.” Crystal shook her head.

“You wouldn’t be posing for him,” Jerry said. He put his hand on Crystal’s arm. “He would get the photos, but he’s not a photographer.”

“I couldn’t…”

“That’s what I thought, too,” Jerry said. “That’s why I was disappointed that Loretta hadn’t spoken to you. If you were my client, I’d of spoken to you.”

“I feel like leaving right now,” Crystal said. She felt the tears stinging her eyes.

“Look, Crystal, you’re a big girl now. People are talking about big things for you.” Jerry lifted Crystal’s chin gently. “If he asks us for photographs, you owe it to yourself, I guess you even owe it to Loretta, not to make a decision right away.”

“I
know
I’m not going to pose without my clothes on!” Crystal hissed.

“I’m not saying that you should,” Jerry said. “All I’m saying is that you should at least see what Marc says. You weigh the benefits, you weigh what it means to you. All you have to do today is to give him a pretty smile and then you make your own decision later, okay?”

Crystal suddenly felt very small. She looked down at the rug. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a movement. It was a cat. Its long hair was actually dyed the same color as the rug. It sat, its pug face immobile, staring at Crystal.

“Mr. Everby’s on his way!” The voice came from behind
them. Jerry stood up quickly, and for a moment, Crystal thought that he was going to stand at attention.

Crystal turned and saw that Marc Everby’s secretary was standing in the doorway, holding the door open. She was tall, a lot taller than Crystal, and the smile she wore seemed to be more a part of her face than a sign of pleasure.

It was just past noon, but Marc Everby wore a silk house-coat over his slacks. He had deep lines on the side of his face and just a touch of gray in his eyebrows.

“Jerry, good to see you.”

“Good to see you, Marc.” Crystal watched as the two men shook hands.

“And this is the young lady I’ve heard so much about?”

“Crystal, meet Marc Everby.”

“How do you do?”

“I’m doing fine, just fine, young lady.” Marc Everby smiled warmly.

“I was just telling Crystal that
La Femme
has been in business since long before she was born.”

“I’m sure Crystal’s not interested in the business side of the magazine,” Marc said. He sat in a high-backed chair and crossed his legs.

“No.” Jerry looked for another place to sit. “I’m sure she’s not.”

“You’re really a fresh face,” Marc said. His voice was deep, almost caressing his words as he spoke.

“Thank you.”

“I can see a nice spread on you,” Marc went on. “You’re not bosomy enough for mid-book, but we can put you in the front of the book. You ever do any hamburger ads?”

“Hamburger ads? No,” Crystal said.

“That’s good,” Marc said. “We’re doing a layout of girls who work in fast-food places, in September, and I wouldn’t want to do another hamburger girl.”

“Crystal’s been doing a lot of high-fashion stuff,” Jerry said. “She’s a mild sensation in Italy.”

“Can you get the roundness out of her cheeks, Jerry?” Everby stood and crossed to where Crystal was sitting. He moved her face from side to side. “Maybe she ought to have her molars taken out.”

“I don’t think so,” Crystal said, smiling.

“Oh, why not?”

“Well…” Crystal looked at Marc Everby and saw that he wasn’t at all kidding. “I just never thought of it.”

“That’s for the people who are handling you to think about,” Marc said. “You want to stand up and let me take a look at you.”

Crystal stood and moved away from Marc. Then she turned slowly so that he could see her.

“She has a good figure,” Jerry said. “Very nice bone structure. Good calves for a Black girl.”

“Loretta said that Joe Sidney was considering her for a part in his new production?” Marc spoke to Jerry without turning his head away from Crystal.

“Crystal doesn’t even know about the part yet,” Jerry said. “I’m afraid that you just let the cat out of the bag.”

“You ready for stardom, Crystal?” Marc asked.

“I hope so,” Crystal answered.

“You need to do more than hope in this business,” Marc said. “But you’re pretty enough, that’s for sure. Is your body firm?”

“I think so.”

“You
think
so?” Everby glanced at Jerry and shook his head. “Stand up straight,” he said to Crystal.

Before he touched her, she knew what he was going to do. He put his hands on her stomach and squeezed gently. Then he put his hand on her back and slid it down. Crystal held her breath as Marc Everby touched her. She tried to stop thinking, as well. If only she could shut out the room for a minute. The room, and Marc Everby, and Jerry. Just for a minute.

“Send me some pictures,” he said, turning away. He crossed the room in long, loping steps. “I think we can use her.”

“I’m so excited I don’t know what to do with myself.” Jerry Goodwin hadn’t spoken until the doors of the elevator had closed behind him and Crystal. “Do you realize what happened in there?”

“You mean him feeling me up?” Crystal said.

“You made an impression on Marc Everby! We’re going to be in
La Femme
!” Jerry put both hands to his head. “Marc Everby wants to use you in a layout!”

“That’s good,” Crystal said, without feeling any of the emotion that Jerry was showing.