The Fame Game (21 page)

All in all, it was a not uneventful day for the inhabitants of Sam Leo Libra’s stable, and those who loved them.

CHAPTER TEN

In this corner,
Silky Morgan, the fighter
—
featherweight division
, Silky thought, looking at herself in the full-length mirror on her bathroom door. She had changed during the past few months, filled out, become almost a little too curvy to be fashionable. She was definitely now more woman than girl. Only her face was still the face of a child, except for her eyes, which hadn’t been a child’s eyes for as long as she could remember. She scrutinized herself carefully, trying to see if Dick still found her sexy. She had this really big bust—men liked that. Her buns stuck out a little too much, well, men usually liked that too. She had a tiny waist. Her legs had become curvier since she had started the hated dancing lessons, and although they were still long and slim they were dancer’s legs now. Men whistled at her on the street when she wore her mini-skirts. Well, she looked okay. But obviously how you looked or the games you played or how cool you were had nothing to do with making a man stay in love if he didn’t want to.

She was confused, and often now she felt her throat closing up, not with fear about her singing but with unshed tears. Dick hadn’t called her for two weeks. He had given her this really elegant pin: a gold nightingale with diamonds and enamel on it, and she had thought with a rush of pure joy and relief that he really did still love her after all. But after the night he gave her the pin he had simply disappeared.

New York was so big that someone could disappear into it and you could never see him again for the rest of your life. She had called Dick’s apartment every day and left her name with the answering service. She didn’t want to call the studio and bother him when he was working, although one day when none of the messages she had left with his service had been returned she did finally call the studio and left her name there. He had never called her back. He was not dead. He had never been too busy for her before. What he was doing was getting her off him cold turkey.

It might as well have been cold turkey he was putting her through; she had chills and shivered, she had sweats, her teeth chattered, she couldn’t keep food down and finally gave up eating at all except for tea with honey for her throat. Oh Lord, if she could just get over him, then he would know it by telepathy and he would come back. She just knew it. That was how men were. When they were afraid you would throw a fit, they hid. But they came back someday. Her father had kept coming back. He had left, and her mother had cried, and then finally he had come back again just when her mother had begun to hum again a little around the apartment. She remembered those days. Wow, if she could just flip the pages of the calendar ahead the way they did on those old movies on TV, and make it be fall, then he would come back. Maybe he’d even wait till winter. But he had to come back. She’d wait for him forever.

She knew it was Gerry he was seeing, but all along she had hoped that the thing with Gerry would die, and then finally she even hoped that he would keep on with
both
of them. From hoping for something she had begun to accept the tiniest crumbs. She had tried to be so happy with him, but he had seen how nervous she was. It was hard to hide it. The jokes they had shared had disappeared, the fun was gone. It was just smile and fake it. That was no fun for either of them. Why did she have to change and stop being fun? She had tried so hard to stay the same. But if you knew you weren’t loved any more, you couldn’t find fun in things, even when you tried to fake it. And oh Lord, the day of the pin, she had finally thought it was all going to turn out all right!

Everyone had noticed the pin. She wore it all the time, and when she wore her costumes she pinned it to her bra. The girls had known of course it was from Dick, but Honey had asked anyway: “Who gave you
that?
”

“Oh, it belonged to my Grandmama,” Silky had replied airily. Honey knew darn well Silky’s grandmama hadn’t even had a toilet, much less a gold and diamond nightingale. But Silky had learned to give them back what they gave her, and their relationship was now one of cold politeness, which was at least better than them ignoring or insulting her. Dick had even taught her how to handle the girls.

Oh, Dick had taught her so much! She even
thought
clean now. She used big words, and almost always got them right. She had bought a big dictionary. She read better books. And he had taken her to the theater a few times, and told her about acting and directing.

Gerry had admired the pin, never asked her where it appeared from, and during the hard time when Dick was gone and Silky was feeling so sick, somehow she had felt closer to Gerry even though it was Gerry who had taken him away. She felt in her heart that Dick wouldn’t last with Gerry either. She didn’t know how she knew, but she knew. But Gerry seemed so content, so secure. Silky wondered if Gerry had thoughts of marrying Dick. Girls liked to kid themselves, and girls like Gerry
did
marry guys like Dick Devere. But he had never given Gerry any jewelry, or if he had, she hid it at home and never showed it off at the office. Silky knew that Gerry would never throw it in her face about Dick.

Mr. Libra did, though. He was the meanest man on earth. He had spotted the nightingale the very first day she had worn it to the office, and had managed to get Silky alone for a moment so he could say: “Oh? Dick Devoid gave you his famous kiss-off pin, eh?” She would have torn it off right there, she was so mad. Libra was cruel, but so was Dick, because if you wanted to get rid of a girl the cruelest thing you could do was to give her something of sentimental value that she’d always have to keep around so she couldn’t forget the rat even if she wanted to. She needed the pin. It was something from Dick, something he had chosen specially for her because she sang, because he cared for her. And there it was, so there he was, always with her, him and the pain.

Then finally things happened that helped keep her busy. One was that Silky and the Satins were finally making their debut in a New York club, and there were intensified rehearsals, the act to be added to in places, cut in others, polished everywhere. Silky prayed that Dick would come to the opening, and then prayed that he would stay away. She supposed Mr. Libra would make all the clients show up, to make the opening a really gala affair, but nobody could make Dick do what he didn’t want to do.

When they came out on the stage that opening night she saw that Mr. Libra had taken a long table at ringside. Mr. and Mrs. Libra were there; Mad Daddy and Elaine were there; Peter and Penny Potter with several of their friends were at the next table; Franco, the designer, and his favorite model, Fred, were there; Mr. Nelson ran out from backstage after fixing the girls’ wigs and made a commotion trying to pull his chair back in the crowded space, there in the dark … the new client Bonnie Parker, the model, was there with Zak Maynard, the movie star, who kept nuzzling Bonnie’s neck all during their songs and never looked at the stage; there were two old men with their wives (Mr. Libra had said two Broadway producers were coming, so that must have been them); and there were two empty seats. Silky knew who the two empty seats were for, and the suspense made her tremble almost more than the fear of the New York opening. The orchestra began to play and she shut her eyes, belting out their opening song. When she looked at the audience again she saw that Gerry had arrived with Dick, the two of them sitting right smack in front of her nose. Her heart turned over. Gerry gave her a big, encouraging smile. Dick smiled and winked. He smiled! His smile was so full of affection and pride in her that Silky almost soared off the floor. Oh Lord, he had come to see her after all. He didn’t hate her.

And she was good, she knew she was good. The audience didn’t want to let them off the stage. When the lights went up after the last curtain call, the people were still clapping and screaming “More!” Mr. Libra brought the producers backstage to the dressing room, and everyone had drinks and sandwiches. Gerry rushed over to Silky and hugged her. Gerry was alone. Dick hadn’t even bothered to come backstage. He was waiting for Gerry outside. The goddam sonofabitch coward!

The party passed in a haze. Silky had two drinks and felt so dizzy she nearly fainted. She had to go lie down on the cot in the other room. Mr. Libra looked furious, for he had let them have liquor because they had been good and he was there watching them and now she had to go look drunk and make a fool of herself. It wasn’t the two drinks on an empty stomach that had made her feel sick; it was her anger at Dick for being such a coward. Why couldn’t he have just come back to tell her she was good?

Gerry went into the other room with her and brought her a cold, wet washcloth for her head, and then a cup of coffee and a chicken sandwich.

“You have to try to eat something,” Gerry said.

“All right. I’ll try.” Silky put the sandwich under the mattress when Gerry was in the bathroom dampening the washcloth again.

“What beautiful flowers,” Gerry said. “Who sent them?”

“Oh, this boy I know—Hatcher Wilson.”

“That was nice of him. Oh look, there’s the arrangement from Mr. Libra. It’s perfect.”

“I knew you picked it out,” Silky said.

Gerry smiled at her. “I made them put in a lot of baby’s breath because that’s your favorite.”

“That was nice.”

“Oh, Silky, please try not to be too unhappy. You have such talent. I know that doesn’t sound like much of a consolation, but think of all the people who want to be famous and won’t ever get there. Everybody adores you. You’re going to be a big, big star. Those two men out there, they’re going to do a musical. They loved you. I’m not supposed to tell you this, but they’re very seriously considering you for the lead. Mr. Libra is going to send you to acting class. Silky, if you do the lead in a Broadway musical next year, do you realize what that means?”

“I can’t believe it,” Silky said.

“You’ll believe it when it happens,” Gerry said. “Please don’t let on that I told you. When Mr. Libra tells you, act surprised. That’ll be your first acting lesson, free from me.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for a musical,” Silky said. “Especially the lead.”

“You have to start in the lead. That’s Libra’s way—hit ’em right between the eyes—pow! You’ll be ready. Don’t worry.”

“Why didn’t Dick come backstage?” Silky said. “He doesn’t have to be scared of me. I wouldn’t try to get him back or anything.”

Gerry looked down. “Dick isn’t perfect,” she said quietly. “In some ways, sometimes, he’s a fool.”

“You like him a lot, don’t you.” It was a statement, not a question. Somehow, if Gerry really loved him, it would make it easier to bear.

“I guess you have to like him a lot,” Gerry said. “He’s hard not to like, even when he does things that don’t seem right.”

“I guess you know I loved him,” Silky said. “Now that it’s over, I guess I can tell you. When it’s over, somehow that’s the time you want to tell somebody that it really was real, just to keep on believing it I guess.”

“I’m really sorry,” Gerry said.

“Did he … does he ever say anything about me? Never mind, don’t answer that.”

“He wouldn’t discuss anything like that with me,” Gerry said. “But he thought you were just brilliant tonight, and he always says you have a great and unique talent. He really respects you.”

“I don’t know about that,” Silky said.

“Believe me,” Gerry said, “he does respect you, and he likes you. Men just … disappear. That’s what some men do. But you have to believe that Dick respects you, because you’re going to be working with him next fall. He’s going to direct the musical you’re going to star in.”

“Oh my God,” Silky whispered. She knew she shouldn’t be happy, but she was. She was going to be with him every day. She was going to work with him. At least she’d see him. She knew she should be afraid, and she was afraid, because the worst thing that could happen would be to have Dick in her professional life at a time when she was going to feel so unsure. But Dick had always made her feel sure. “What’s going to happen?” she asked.

“He’s going to be a big boy and you’re going to be a big girl, and you’re going to work together to make yourselves and each other big stars,” Gerry said. “That’s what’s going to happen.”

“That’s what’s going to happen,” Silky repeated obediently. But she didn’t believe it … she couldn’t even imagine it. Life was sure crazy.

And the other big thing that kept Silky busy and helped keep her mind off her troubles, at least about ten per cent of the time, was that as soon as they finished their two-week engagement at the New York club (with rave notices in all the papers) Mr. Libra enrolled her in this acting class, and she found herself in a room full of the weirdest lunatics she’d ever met in her life.

The Simon Budapest School of Theater Work was one of the best known in the country. To get in you had to be genuinely talented—or famous. Silky was an oddity: a famous pop singer who was headed for the stage, so she got in with no trouble. She did not even have to audition. Mr. Libra gave her a slip of paper with the name and address of the school on it, and the list of days and hours of classes. She had to attend a minimum of twice a week. Classes were held in a mangy loft with folding chairs set in rows in front of a small stage. Props were frowned upon; pantomime was preferred. Simon Budapest was a tall, middle-aged man with thick black eyebrows that made him look like Satan. He would have been a fine actor except that he stuttered. None of his students ever laughed when he stuttered because they were all in love with him. He almost seemed to hypnotize them, especially the girls. After a scene, which was always done by two partners, usually a girl and a guy, Simon Budapest would rise from his chair, circle the actors, look at them, and then touch one of them. When he touched the girl she always burst into tears. Then he would go back to his chair in the front row and make the girl tell him why she was crying. It usually ended up sounding like that group-therapy show Silky had seen on television. The girls talked about their emotional problems and the men talked about their sex lives. Silky was dreading doing her first scene.