Valley of the Dolls (28 page)

“Old one! You just got it last year!”

“I hate it—it reminds me of the Prince. Besides, it’s a wild mink. It would look great with your hair. I want a real dark one.”

“I’ll buy it from you then.”

“Don’t be silly!”

“I have money, Jen. Henry invested the ring money plus my twelve thousand.” “How are you doing?”

“Well, we only got twenty thousand for the ring. It’s worth more, but they said it wasn’t a seller’s market. And Henry invested it all in A.T.&T. It hasn’t gone up too much, but I get very nice dividends.”

“Well, don’t touch your stock.”

“You’re a fine one to talk. You’ve got pictures in
Vogue
and
Harper’s
this month and you haven’t saved a cent. Honest, Jen, you must earn a fortune since you signed with the Longworth Agency. But you spend it all on clothes. It would be different if you cared about them.”

“Between clothes and sending my mother money, how can I save? The modeling brings in three or four hundred a week, but that’s not real money. No, my jackpot is Tony. I’m twenty-six, Anne—I haven’t that kind of time or future. Tony is impressed with my clothes, and the newspapers call me glamorous. I think about this as an investment. I’m putting all my money on the line and rolling the dice for Tony. If the number comes up marriage, I’ll be independent for life.”

“That’s still no reason to give away your mink coat.”

“Everyone’s seen me in it for over a year. And if I marry Tony I’ll have a dozen. And unless Lyon’s book is a freak best seller, you’ll wait a long time for a mink.”

“Well . . . I’m keeping everything crossed. He finished it last week.”

“Wonderful! Now you can get married!”

Anne laughed. “It’s not that simple. First it has to be accepted by a publisher. He gave it to Bess Wilson—she’s a very important literary agent. If she likes it and agrees to handle it, he’s halfway home. A publisher will automatically read a manuscript with more interest if he gets it from Bess Wilson.”

“When will he know?”

“Any day now. He’s hoping to hear before Christmas. Hey, Neely’s stuck.” Anne rushed to the record player and pushed the needle forward.

“You’ve worn out that album,” Jennifer said.

“It’s so great. I’m so proud of her. I can’t wait for the picture to come out.”

Jennifer slammed the closet shut. “Mind if I turn it off now? I want to read.”

Anne turned off the record player. “Jen, it’s two o’clock. We should both go to sleep.”

“Will my night light bother you?”

“No, it just bothers me that you get so little sleep. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and your bed is empty.”

“I go into the living room and smoke so as not to bother you.”

“What is it, Jen? Tony?”

Jennifer shrugged. “In a way . . . but I haven’t been sleeping for over a year. I
am
upset about Tony, though. In February he goes to California to start a radio show.”

“Maybe he’ll ask you to marry him before he leaves.”

“Not as long as Miriam is around. When we’re alone, I can make him do almost anything. But we’re only alone in bed. I can’t very well have a justice of the peace hiding under the sheets.”

“What about eloping?”

“I’ve thought of that—there’s always Maryland. But it’s not that simple. In bed he’ll promise anything. But the moment he gets out of bed, he listens to Miriam.” She started for the bathroom. “Now go to sleep. No use both of us worrying. I’ll think of something.”

“Try sleeping for a change,” Anne said as she patted her pillow into shape.

“I’ll give it a whirl. But first I have to do my exercises and oil up my equipment.” Jennifer closed the bathroom door and wearily took out the cocoa butter. She looked at her face under the harsh bathroom light. A few tiny lines were forming under her eyes. In four years she’d be thirty!
Hit the Sky
would go until June, but she had been in it for a year. Nothing was going to happen. Of course, there was always the stock contract at Twentieth. But if she took it and followed Tony to the Coast she’d never get him. And if he went without her, would he miss her enough to send for her? Not a chance! Miriam would see to it that he was flooded with beautiful girls. Beautiful
young
girls!

Sure, Tony thought she was twenty. But once he saw a girl who was really nineteen or twenty she might look a little beat. Miriam had been staring at her lately—asking funny questions, trying to trip her with dates about school. Thank God Tony wasn’t too bright. She stopped suddenly. It was true—Tony wasn’t too bright. Or was it just that Miriam took over so much he never had the chance? He certainly was bright about performing. He knew if the music was off even a fraction. No, it was just that Miriam never gave him a chance to think. Miriam! She rubbed more oil under her eyes. She
had
to sleep. She returned to the bedroom. Anne was almost asleep. She got into bed and turned off the light.

An hour later she was still wide awake. This was going to be another of those nights. She got out of bed quietly and went into the living room. She
could
sleep—if she had the nerve. She went to her bag and took out the small bottle. She stared at the tiny, bullet-shaped red capsules. Irma had given them to her last night. (“Just take one and you’ll sleep for hours.”)

Seconals. Irma had given her four. (“They’re like gold to me. I can’t give you any more.”) Irma had replaced Neely in the show. She claimed the little red “dolls” had saved her life. (“I’d give you more, Jennifer, but you need a doctor’s prescription. I can only get ten a week.”)

Should she try one? It was a frightening idea, that a little red capsule as tiny as this could put you to sleep. She walked to the small pantry and poured a glass of water. She held the pill for a second, feeling her heart pound. This was dope—but that was ridiculous! Irma took one every night, and she was fine. Irma had been nervous going into the show and she was still nervous seven months later. (“I feel everyone is comparing me with Neely when I sing. She has such a big following with her albums now.”)

Well, one pill couldn’t hurt. She swallowed it, replaced the bottle in her bag and rushed into bed.

How long would it take? She still felt wide awake. She could hear Anne’s even breathing, the clock on the night table ticking, the traffic sounds outside—in fact, everything seemed intensified. . . .

Then she felt it! Oh, God! It was glorious! Her whole body felt weightless . . . her head was heavy, yet light as air. She was going to sleep . . . sleep . . . oh, the beautiful little red doll . . .

The following day she visited Henry’s doctor. He turned her down cold. She was in excellent condition. What was this nonsense! No, he would not give her a prescription for Seconals. Stop drinking all that coffee. Cut down on cigarettes. She’d sleep. If she didn’t, then her body didn’t need it.

“That isn’t the way to do it,” Irma explained a few days later. “You can’t go to a good doctor and just come out and ask for them. It’s best to find a little doctor—one whose ethics are a little shady.”

“But where? Irma, I slept four nights in a row with those blessed red dolls, and it was heavenly. I haven’t slept in two nights without them.”

“Look for one of those third-rate hotels on the West Side. You’ll see a doctor’s sign on a dirty window,” Irma explained. “But don’t just walk in and ask for pills. You have to play the game. Walk in and say you’re from out of town—California is always good. Don’t wear the mink, or the rates will go up. Tell him you can’t sleep. He’ll make a stab at listening to your heart, and you keep saying all you need is a few nights’ sleep. Then he’ll charge you ten bucks and give you a prescription for a week’s supply, knowing you’ll be back. And he knows he’s good for ten bucks a week. But believe me, it’s worth it. You may have to try a few doctors before you hit the right one—two turned me down—but you’ll find one. Don’t go to the Mackley Hotel—that’s mine. He might get suspicious.”

Jennifer found her doctor on West Forty-eighth Street. She knew he was the right one when he disinterestedly dragged out a dusty stethoscope and made a half-hearted attempt to feel her pulse. Sure enough, he pulled out his prescription blank. “Nembutals or Seconals?” he asked.

“The red ones,” Jennifer mumbled.

“Here’s a week’s supply of Seconals.” He handed her the prescription. “This should straighten you out. If not, come by again.”

Anne was delighted at the change in Jennifer. She knew nothing about the pills, but she was pleased to see Jennifer sleeping through the night. She wondered if Tony had dropped any encouraging hints.

Then, a few days before Christmas, as Anne was packing a bag for her usual weekend at Lyon’s, Jennifer made her big decision.

“This is
it,”
she announced. “I’m going to get Tony to drive to Elkton tonight, or never see him again. I figured it out last night. If it doesn’t work, at least I’ll have six weeks going for me. Six weeks that he’s in town, where I can show up places looking divine with some other guy and drive him crazy. Crazy enough to relent and marry me. If I wait till he goes to the Coast I’m dead.”

“Where’s Miriam tonight?”

“Where she always is. With us! There’s a new show opening at La Bombra. I’ve told Tony I’m going home from the theatre to change and to pick me up here. Miriam will be waiting at La Bombra with his group. I’ll have him alone and take him by surprise. And if I play it right. . .”

She was in a robe when Tony arrived.

“Hey . . . hurry and get dressed. The show goes on at twelve-thirty.”

She came to him. “Hold me first,” she said softly.

When he broke the embrace, he gasped. “Baby, let me come up for air. Jesus! I need a blood transfusion just being near you.” His hands stroked her breasts. His fingers fumbled with the buttons on her satin robe. “Jesus . . . why do you wear robes with buttons?” He pulled the robe off her shoulders, down to her waist. He stood back, his breath coming faster.

“Jen, no one should have boobs like that.” He touched them lightly.

She smiled. “They’re yours, Tony.”

He buried his face in them, sinking to his knees. “Oh, God. I just can’t believe it. Every time I touch them, I can’t believe it.” His mouth was greedy. She held his head gently. “I never want to move,” he mumbled.

“Tony, let’s get married.”

“Sure, baby, sure. . . .” He was fumbling at the rest of the buttons on her robe. It fell to the floor. She backed away. He crawled on his knees after her. She backed away again. “Tony, all of this”—she stroked her body—”is
not
yours . . . it’s
mine!”

He came after her. She eluded him again. She stroked her thighs, her fingers touching between her legs. “That’s mine, too,” she said softly. “But
we
want you, Tony,” she whispered hoarsely. “Take your clothes off.”

He tore at his shirt. The buttons ripped and fell to the floor. He stood before her naked.

“Your body is nice,” she said with a slow smile. Then she backed away. “But mine is nicer.” She stroked her breasts deliberately, almost as if she thrilled to the touch. He stood watching, his breath coming in quick gasps. He rushed to her but she backed away.

“You can look,” she said softly. “But you can’t touch. Not until it’s yours. . . .”

“But it is mine—you’re mine!” His voice was almost a growl.

“Only on loan.” She smiled sweetly. “And I’m taking it back. Unless you really want it.” She stroked her breasts again. “Want it for keeps.”

He followed her, trembling. “I do. Just come to me . . . now!”

“Not now. Not until you marry me.”

“Sure,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll marry you.” He kept following her, but she eluded him, smiling all the while and stroking her own body, letting her hands play with her breasts, sliding them to her legs and touching herself. Her eyes were riveted to him.

“When will you marry me, Tony?”

“We’ll talk about it later—right after . . .” He kept after her, hypnotized by this new game she was playing. She let him reach her . . . he grabbed at her breasts . . . his mouth sucked at them hungrily . . . his hands reached between her legs. Then she pulled away.

“Jen!” he gasped. “Stop it. What are you trying to do—kill me?”

“Marry me, or that was the last time you touch me—ever!”

“I will, I will . . .”

“Now. Tonight.”

“How can we get married tonight? We have to take blood tests . . . we need a license. We’ll start that jazz first thing tomorrow. I promise.”

“No. By then Miriam will talk you out of it.”

Mentioning Miriam was a wrong move. It snapped him back to reality. His passion began to dissolve. Quickly, she moved across the room, undulating her body, caressing her breasts. “We’ll miss you, Tony,” she whispered.

He crossed the room quickly and grabbed her.

“Marry us tonight, Tony. We
want
to belong to you . . .” She rubbed against him.

“How can I?” he whined.

“Get your car. We could drive to Elkton, Maryland.”

He stared at her. “You mean they’d marry us—just like that?”

“Just like that!” She snapped her fingers.

“But Miriam—”

“I’ll tell Miriam,” she said. “We’ll call after we’re married. I’ll tell her. Let her yell at me. You’ll be in my arms. All of me will belong to you . . . forever.” She moved her body against him. “Touch me, Tony—it will all belong to you. You’ll be able to do anything you want to me, Tony. Anything—even the things I wouldn’t let you do.” She broke away and stood, swaying, her hips moving rhythmically. “And I’ll do all the things you’ve begged me to do . . . after we’re married.”

“Now,” he begged. “Now, please—then we’ll go to Elkton.”

“No. After Elkton.”

“I can’t stand it. I can’t wait until then!”

She came close. “Yes you can. Because tonight, after we’re married”—she let her fingers caress his body, nibbled at his ear—”then we’ll have a ball.”

His lips were dry. “Okay, you win. Only for Christ’s sake, let’s get going.”

She threw her arms around him. “You won’t regret it . . . I’ll make you wild.”