The Fame Game (35 page)

“Don’t be silly,” Mr. Libra said.

“Tell me what it is.”

“I told you,” the woman said.

Silky didn’t like that the bottle didn’t have any label on it, and she didn’t like the look of the woman, either. The woman grabbed her arm and swabbed it off with a piece of cotton dipped in alcohol.

“Why doesn’t that bottle say anything?” she demanded.

“Because Ingrid makes it herself,” Mr. Libra said triumphantly. “It’s her secret love potion. I have one every day. You’ll feel wonderful in a few minutes, never know you were sick.”

“Vitamins don’t make you feel wonderful in a few minutes,” Silky said. “What else is in it?”

The woman had her arm in fingers like steel. Silky tried to pull away.

“You’ll have to hold her, Sam, she’s hysterical.”

Then Silky really did get hysterical. She didn’t know why she knew, but she knew it was dope. She had always suspected, without really thinking about it, that Libra was on something, but she had always thought it was his business and none of hers. But now it
was
her business. “Stop it!” she screamed, struggling to cover her arm with her other hand, to get away. “Stop it! Gerry, don’t let her give me dope, don’t let her,
I’ll get hooked like him!
”

Ingrid stuck her with the needle. Apeface Libra was holding her arm, and he looked sorry for her, as if she was just having a paranoid fit. Gerry’s eyes were wide open in shock. Silky could see from her face that she knew, too. The only one who didn’t know was Libra. The junkie fake doctor’s eyes were like tiny, black holes. She knew, all right. Her mouth looked as if it had been basted together with stitches.

“There, there,” Libra said kindly. He let go of her arm.

“What a display,” Ingrid said. “It is childish to be afraid of needles.”

Silky had never taken speed, but she knew what to expect because a lot of her friends back home had tried it, and some were hooked; she knew more about that scene than she wanted to … so, when the trip started she was not surprised, just frightened and desperate under the up that made her feel so strong and happy. Funny how a cat who had the bread could be a junkie all his life and nobody ever had to know about it. He didn’t have to steal, he didn’t have to hustle, he didn’t have to go through the bad times when he needed a fix because he never had to need a fix. Libra had the bread and Ingrid was ready. And the damn fool didn’t even know he was hooked.

“There, don’t you feel better already?” Libra said. “You look better. A few more of those before the show opens in New York and there’ll be no stopping you.”

“Can I please talk to Gerry?” Silky said.

“No talking,” Ingrid snapped. “Rest.” She tossed the hypodermic and bottle into her doctor’s bag and snapped it shut.

“Why don’t you throw the needle away?” Gerry asked, too sweetly. “It’s disposable, isn’t it?”

“The maid probably has a bad enough impression of show business people as it is,” Ingrid said.

Libra laughed. “Come on, Ingrid, I’ll show you to your room. Did you have dinner?”

“I brought some organic vegetables with me,” Ingrid said. She went into the living room with Libra.

“Come on, Gerry,” Libra called.

“Just a sec … I’m helping Silky change into a nightgown,” Gerry called. She shut the door fast and locked it. Then she sat on the bed. She didn’t say anything.

“It’s speed,” Silky said.

“Amphetamine?”

“Yeah. I can feel it. I’m really up there with the little birds. They ought to put that whore in jail and throw away the key.”

“I always thought Libra acted funny,” Gerry said. “What do you think is going to happen now?”

“Nothing, if I never take it again. Gerry, you got to stop them. I don’t want her to give me any more.”

“I’ll tell him.”

“He won’t listen.”

“I know.”

“He’s hooked,” Silky said. “And if she keeps giving it to me I’ll get hooked. I didn’t fight all my life to get where I am to turn into a junkie, man. Shee-it, what the fuck am I going to do?” She knew she was stoned because she was talking like the old Silky. She was going to fight like the old Silky, too. But she couldn’t think; her mind was going in fifteen directions at once and none of them made any sense.

“How many times do you have to take it before you get hooked?” Gerry asked.

“Four, five, maybe.”

“Not less?”

“Sometimes less. Depends on the person and how much you want it.”

“We can’t start accusing people,” Gerry said. “You don’t need that kind of publicity, not right now, not you, a pop singer. Nobody will understand. And it’ll wreck Mr. Libra’s career, too. It’s just too chancey right before a show opens, and you can’t take the time … you have to spend every minute getting well and getting strong so you can take care of your own life.”

“You’re a real company girl, aren’t you? And I thought you were my friend.”

“I am your friend. Do you want to open in that show or do you want to be out of work forever just because people think you’re taking dope?”

“It’s not fair, dammit!”

“I know it’s not fair, but we just don’t have time. I’ll call off that Ingrid somehow … I don’t know how, but I will. I want you to promise me to eat like a horse and stop acting silly. I’ll get you a real doctor tomorrow and he’ll give you some real vitamins.”

“The funny thing is …” Silky said. “Right now I feel as if I could get right up and do that show just fine.”

“I bet you do,” Gerry said. She got up. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. I promise. I
promise
.” She smiled and unlocked the door.

Then she looked back at Silky and she was no longer smiling. Her face was scared, like a little kid.

“What is it?” Silky said, scared now, too.

“Libra,” Gerry said. “Oh, wow. I feel just like someone punched me in the stomach. I feel like … I suddenly have an addict in the family. Silky, you have no idea how fond I’ve gotten of that man. Now I’ve got to tell him he’s got some terrible disease. Oh, wow.” Her eyes were full of tears.

How could Gerry like him so much? Silky couldn’t stand him. Oh, well, to each his own.

She was really beginning to like the feeling the shot gave her. She didn’t like that her heart was pounding and her hands were shaking and her mouth had gotten dry, but she liked feeling on top of everything, as if she could cope with anything that happened now. She didn’t love Dick any more; he was just another guy she’d once known. She loved the show, weak as it was, and she loved the songs. She loved her audience, every one of those dear people who’d paid all that money to come to see her and applaud for her and laugh at the phony
schticks
she’d rehearsed so hard until they seemed spontaneous. She loved singing, and she loved her voice. No one in the business sounded like her when she really let go. She prayed to God to make her hate this powerful, carefree feeling, to give her the courage to remember it and recreate it when she hadn’t had the shot. She’d even go back to the misery if she could only stay off the speed. It was so easy to have the speed … she could have it all the time, free, with Libra’s blessing.
Help me, Jesus
, she prayed.
Help me do it on my own. Help me hate Mr. Libra
.

She’d almost forgotten why she’d always hated Mr. Libra, but she knew she’d remember in the morning. She had to remember, now.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The next three days were the most frantic Gerry had ever spent in her life. The opening was put off for forty-eight hours so Silky could pull herself together. Gerry called Lizzie Libra in New York, who knew everyone or could find them, and got the name of a good Boston doctor for Silky. The doctor said Silky was suffering from malnutrition, nerves, and deep depression, gave her some vitamin shots (with nothing else in them), some sleeping pills (which Silky threw down the toilet), a bland, high-energy diet to follow, and a complete physical examination, including a chest X ray (since her mother had died of TB). Lizzie wanted to send her analyst, Dr. Picker, but no one approved of that idea at all so he didn’t come.

Then Gerry confronted Libra, alone. “I feel I ought to tell you this,” she said. “If I don’t tell you, I don’t know who else will. That Ingrid the doctor, or whatever she is, has been filling you up with shots that aren’t vitamins. They’re some kind of amphetamine; Methedrine, I think.”

Libra stared at her for a moment, then he laughed. “You’re even more paranoid than I am, sweetie.”

“No, no, I mean it! Silky knew. Ingrid gave her one and she felt the effects.”

“She felt nothing,” Libra said. “The kid’s hysterical. You’re a college graduate—are you going to listen to some
misha gos
from a slum bunny?”

“Who’s to know better about drugs than a slum bunny, as you keep calling her? And don’t try to flatter me to change the subject by reminding me I’m a college graduate. You can learn a lot about drugs in college these days. Mr. Libra, you’ve got to listen to me. Go get that stuff analyzed at a lab. Please! That woman may be killing you.”

“I’ll tell you who’ll get killed,” Libra said pleasantly. “You will. By me, if you don’t get your ass back to work this instant and stop bothering me.”

“Why do you always get so hopped up, then?” Gerry said, beginning to get angry at his denseness. “You always run to the gym right after you get your shot because you can’t sit still. You never eat. You hardly ever sleep. I know how often you make me call the drugstore to renew your sleeping pills. I see your hand shake when you’re writing something. And you’re paranoid, you know it, you say so yourself. That’s the methedrine.”

“It’s the vitamins that give me the energy,” Libra said. “The vitamins and my implacable wish to get ahead in this world. Which you obviously don’t have or you wouldn’t be standing here deliberately trying to lose your job.”

“Are you saying you’re going to fire me?”

“I just might if you don’t shut up.”

“You mean you’d fire me on grounds of attempted blackmail? You know I’d never tell anybody but you.”

“No,” he said, “not blackmail. On the grounds of insanity.”

“I give up,” Gerry said. “I just give up. You think you’re so smart, smarter than anybody else in the world. And all this time you’re being victimized by a
concentration camp matron!
” She turned and walked out of the room. She wasn’t sorry for him any more, she was just furious; furious at him because he liked being high so much that he wouldn’t even let himself suspect he wasn’t high on miracle vitamins because then he’d have to give them up. And she was even more furious at Ingrid. She’d like to smash all that woman’s little vials and stamp on them and then smash the bitch in the face.

“Gerry!” Libra called after her.

She came back, hoping he was going to change his mind, almost ready to cry from relief.

“If Silky hates Ingrid that much I’ll keep her away,” he said. “I know Silky put you up to this. That doctor you hired just sent me his bill. I don’t have to pay two doctors for Silky.”

“Thank God! And you’ll send Ingrid home?”

“Who said anything about home? Ingrid’s staying here with me.
I
find her valuable, even if you two don’t appreciate her.”

Poor old junkie
, Gerry thought.
But at least Silky’s safe
. She knew that with Libra you could never win an entire battle, and she ought to be glad she won at least part of one. Maybe he was so miserable he needed the drugs. Who knew what went on in that man’s mind?

Silky had no aftereffects from Ingrid’s shot, except some mild stomach cramps, and Gerry spent nearly every waking moment with her, which seemed to reassure Silky very much. Dick went out of his way to be gentle, and on opening night he sent Silky a huge floral arrangement and a nice telegram telling her he was proud of her. There was an even bigger floral arrangement from Libra, a small one from Gerry, telegrams from Lizzie, Hatcher Wilson and his new bride, the composers, the author, the King James Version (Gerry wondered if Libra had sent it), and some people whom Silky didn’t seem to know. There was even a telegram from the Satins, saying they were proud of their very own star, which Gerry was sure Libra had ordered them to send. Silky’s Auntie Grace and several members of her family came down to the opening, and Silky put them all up at the hotel, in double rooms, two to a room—a far cry from her poor days in the Chelsea.

Since Elaine had returned from Las Vegas, Gerry called Mad Daddy at the television station to tell him where she had disappeared to, and he telephoned her every afternoon in her room after he had finished taping his own show. They missed each other. They had become very close after that first day they spent together—in fact, inseparable. Their friendship and understanding had turned into a romance almost immediately, and into an affair as well. He was a champion necker, as she had known he would be, but she was rather surprised to find that he was a champion lover. She didn’t know now why she’d thought he would be childish or innocent in bed.

Mad Daddy was depressed and almost shocked when Elaine came back to him with no more talk of divorce. He had really been counting on it this time. He was the one who brought the subject up with Gerry; she didn’t feel it was any of her business, although she was more disappointed than she wanted to admit to herself when Elaine came back. On the phone, she told Mad Daddy about Libra and Silky and Ingrid’s mysterious shots.

“I knew he’d never believe me,” she told Mad Daddy. “Imagine trying to convince someone he’s a drug addict.”

“I know,” he said. “I’ve been trying to convince Elaine she’s an alcoholic, but she won’t listen to me either. You can never convince these people. Gerry, why can’t we go to our desert island?”

“Maybe we will,” she said.

“Why can’t we just run away together? Why can’t people do what they want to do?”

“For one thing, we won’t live long on bananas.”

“Come home soon. I miss you. I love you a lot.”

“I love you a lot, too,” she said. Somehow, qualifying it made “love” sound less trite. They’d all been in love before. It was a shame, but no one who was a grown-up came to anyone else newly minted and pure at heart. Still, she loved him in a different way than she’d loved anyone else. He made her feel happy all the time. No doubts, no inner questioning, no games to play. He was happiness, everything good. She wanted to keep anything bad from ever happening to him. If he divorced Elaine, fine—if he didn’t, fine, too. She wasn’t going to hurry him because he was hers now in every way except living together. It was too soon to ask for more. She had never been so calm and secure in her life.