Valley of the Dolls (4 page)

Neely had spent the first seven years of her life in foster homes. Then her sister, who was ten years older, met Charlie, one of The Gaucheros, and married him. They turned the act into a trio, and she immediately rescued Neely from the monotony of a foster home and formal schooling and introduced her to the life of a traveling third-rate vaudeville troupe. That was the end of school, but there was always someone on the bill who took a hand in helping Neely with her reading and arithmetic. She learned geography through train windows and picked up history from the European acts who played on the bill. And there was always a friendly doorman who sent in the alarm when an investigator from the Board of Education came around to check.

When Neely was fourteen her sister retired to have a baby, and Neely, who knew the act backwards, replaced her. And now, after all the small-time years, The Gaucheros had a chance at a Broadway show.

“Maybe I can bring it up with George Bellows,” Anne said thoughtfully as she freshened her makeup. “He invited me to the opening of
Hit the Sky.”

“That’s the long way around,” Neely said, “but it’s better than nothing.” She watched Anne change into a tweed suit. “Oh, seeing Allen tonight?”

Anne nodded.

“I figured. With Mr. Bellamy it’s the black dress. Gosh, doesn’t he ever get tired of that same black dress?”

“Mr. Bellamy never even notices me when I go out with him. It’s business.”

“Hah!” Neely snorted. “Boy, it sure sounds jazzy working in that office. Show business is a drag in comparison. You got George for an opening coming up, Mr. Bellamy for those fancy dinners at ‘21,’ you even found Allen in the office. And now Lyon Burke! Geez, Anne, you got four guys and I haven’t even got one!”

Anne laughed. “Mr. Bellamy is not a date, the opening isn’t until January, and to Lyon Burke I am nothing more than a renting agent. And Allen . . . well . . . Allen and I just date.”

“That’s still four times the action I got. I’ve never had a real date. The only men I know are my brother-in-law and his partner Dickie. And Dickie’s a fag. My big social life is going over to Walgreen’s Drugstore and talking to the other out-of-work actors.”

“Haven’t you met any actors who could take you out?”

“Ha! You don’t know actors if you ask a question like that. Take you out? They won’t even lift your tab for a five-cent Coke. It’s not that actors are born cheap, but they’re out of jobs so much they got to be. And most of them have jobs at night—they’re busboys, elevator operators, desk clerks, anything that’ll leave them free to job hunt during the day and see the managers.”

“Do you expect to go on the road soon?” Anne suddenly realized how much she would miss Neely.

“I hope not. My sister says the baby’s just beginning to know his father. That’s why Charlie’s knocking himself out taking all these club dates. But Dickie’s beginning to holler. We can make more money on tour. They want us for a nightclub route in Buffalo, Toronto and Montreal. That’s why we’ve got to land this spot in
Hit the Sky.
Helen Lawson shows are always hits. We’d be able to stay in New York for a whole season, maybe more. Then maybe I’d be able to meet a decent guy and get married.”

“Is that why you want to be in the show? To meet someone and get married?”

“Sure, because then I’d be somebody. I’d be
Mrs.
Somebody. I’d live in one place. I’d have friends. People on the block would know who I was.”

“But what about love? It isn’t that easy to find someone you really love.”

Neely wrinkled her nose. “Look—if someone loved me, I’d love him. Geez, Anne, if you’d only go to Mr. Bellamy . . .”

Anne smiled. “All right, Neely, I will. The first chance I get. Who knows, you might become the next Pavlova.”

“What’s that?”

“She was a great dancer.”

Neely laughed. “That’s for the birds. The star bit. Oh, I think I
could
be a star. Not with
this
act. But something funny happens inside of me when I get before an audience. I dance fairly well, but I feel if they applauded loud enough, I could fly. I don’t have a really good voice, but I feel if they liked me, I could do opera. It’s a feeling I get when. I’m out there . . . like they’re all taking me in their arms or something. I talked to Dick and Charlie about it, but they think I’m crazy. They don’t feel a thing.”

“Neely, maybe you should study, go to acting classes. Maybe you can make it to the top.”

Neely shook her head. “The odds are too tough. I’ve met too many old-timers on the circuit who told me how they
almost
made it.”

“But you’re talking about people who weren’t quite good enough,” Anne said.

“Listen, no one sticks in show business because it’s got good hours or steady dough. Every kid who goes into it thinks she can make it. But for every Mary Martin, Ethel Merman or Helen Lawson there’re thousands of bit players who
almost
made it starving in fifth-rate road companies.”

Anne was silent. She couldn’t argue with Neely’s logic. She gave her makeup a final pat. “All right, Neely, I’ll do what I can with Mr. Bellamy. But who knows, maybe you’ll get the job anyway. They must like your act if they’ve called you back three times.”

Neely laughed out loud. “That’s what I don’t get.
Why
have they called us back? How could Helen Lawson like our cockemamie act? Unless every other dance team in town has smallpox or something. Listen, if I thought our act was good, I wouldn’t be nagging at you. I can’t understand why Helen Lawson seems interested—unless she’s got a letch for Charlie. She’s supposed to have eyes for anything in pants, and even though Charlie’s not too bright, he is good looking.”

“But what would Charlie do if she did like him? After all, there’s your sister.”

“Oh, he’d lay Helen Lawson if he had to,” Neely said without emotion. “He’d figure he was doing it for my sister in a way. After all, he wouldn’t really enjoy banging Helen. She’s not exactly a great beauty.”

“Neely, you mean you’d stand still and let that happen? Your sister would never forgive you.”

“Anne, you not only talk like a virgin but you think like a priest. Look, I’m a virgin, but I do know that sex and love are two different things for a man. Charlie used to live in the cheapest room on the road and send my sister three quarters of his pay check so she and the baby could live nice. But that didn’t mean that once in a while he wouldn’t take a flier with a nice-looking girl on the bill. He just needed sex. . . . It had nothing to do with his love for Kitty and the baby. I’ve hung on to my virginity because I know men put a high value on it, and I want some man to love me the way Charlie loves Kitty. But it’s different with a man. You don’t expect
him
to be a virgin.”

The buzzer sounded in Anne’s room. That meant Allen was at the front door. She pressed the button to signal she was on the way down and grabbed her coat and bag. “Come on, Neely, I’ve got to go. Allen may be holding a cab.”

“Wait—got any more of those terrific chocolate marsh-mallow cookies left?” Neely began poking around in the small closet.

“Take the whole box,” Anne said, holding the door open.

“Oh, marvelous!” Neely followed her, cradling the box. “I’ve got a library copy of
Gone with the Wind,
a quart of milk and all these cookies. Wow! What an orgy!”

They went to a little French restaurant. Allen listened attentively as she told him about her new assignment. When she finished, he gulped down the remainder of his coffee and called for the check.

“Anne, I think the time has come.”

“Time for what?”

“Time for the moment of truth. Time for you to leave Henry Bellamy in a blaze of glory.”

“But I don’t
want
to leave Mr. Bellamy.”

“You will.” His smile was strange. Confident. His entire manner had changed. “I assume getting Lyon Burke an apartment would be a great achievement.”

“You mean you know of one?”

He nodded, smiling mysteriously as though at a private joke. Outside, he signaled a cab and gave a Sutton Place address.

“Allen, where are we going?”

“To see Lyon Burke’s new apartment.”

“At this time of night? Whose apartment is this, anyway?”

“You’ll see,” he said. “Just be patient.” The rest of the ride was silent.

The cab stopped in front of a fashionable building near the East River. The doorman sprang to attention. “Good evening, Mr. Cooper.” The elevator man nodded and automatically stopped at the tenth floor. Allen nonchalantly slipped a key into the door of the apartment. He switched on the lights, revealing a skillfully decorated living room. He pressed another button and soft music drifted through the room. It was a perfect apartment. An apartment made to order for Lyon Burke.

“Allen, whose apartment is this?”

“Mine. Come see the rest of the place. The bedroom is quite large . . . good closet space.” He pulled open sliding doors. “Bathroom here, kitchen out there. Small, but it has a window.”

She followed him around without speaking. It was inconceivable. Mild little Allen living here?

“Now I’ll show you the one sour note.” He walked into the living room and drew the floor-length drapes, exposing a neighboring apartment and a window that looked almost near enough to touch.

“That’s the sad story,” he said. “This dream house has everything but a view. Although I’ve got to admit there’s a fat guy across the way who fascinates me. He lives alone, and in two years I’ve never seen him touch a drop of food. He lives on beer—breakfast, lunch and dinner. Look!” As if on cue, a stout man in his undershirt lumbered into the kitchen and opened a bottle of beer.

Allen drew the drapes. “I used to worry about him in the beginning. I was sure he’d wind up with a vitamin deficiency or something. But he seems to be thriving on it.” He led her to the couch. “Well, does it fit the bill for Mr. Burke?”

“I think it’s wonderful, even with the fat man. But Allen, why would you ever give up such a marvelous apartment?”

“I’ve found a better one. I can move in tomorrow. But I want you to see it first. It’s important that you like it too.”

Good Lord! He was going to ask her to marry him! Nice, sweet little Allen? She didn’t want to hurt him. Maybe she could pretend not to understand.

She forced an impersonal airiness into her voice. “Allen, just because I’ve been assigned to find an apartment for Lyon Burke doesn’t mean I’m an expert. This was just done to expedite things at the office, because Lyon Burke can’t take the time off. If you found this apartment on your own, you certainly don’t need any advice from me. . . .” She knew she was talking too fast.

“You say he can pay one fifty,” Allen said. “But he could go to one seventy-five. Tell you what—we’ll give it to him for one fifty. That should make a real hero out of you. He can take over my lease. That’s what I pay, unfurnished, but I’ll throw in the furniture as a bonus.”

She was suddenly concerned. “But you’ll need it in your new place,” she protested. “Besides, it must have cost a lot . . .”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said gaily. “Can Lyon Burke move in here right away?”

“Well, I guess—”

“Sure he can,” Allen said. “Come on, I’ll show you my new place.” He hustled her out and down in the elevator, ignoring her protestations about the late hour.

On the street again, the attentive doorman charged over. “Taxi, Mr. Cooper?”

“No, Joe, we’re just going down the street.”

He led her down the block and into another building, one that seemed to be hanging over the river.

The new apartment was like a movie set. The living room was covered with forty feet of thick white carpet. The bar area was inlaid with Italian marble. There was a long staircase that obviously led to some upstairs rooms. But the breathtaking feature was the view.

Glass doors opened on to an immense terrace that overlooked the river. He led her out. The cold wind blew the dampness in her face, but the beauty of the scene was overpowering. Bright lacework bridge lights looped the river, and tiny diamonds trickled across the spans. She stared, transfixed, not noticing Allen at all.

“Shall we drink to the new apartment?” he asked.

She came out of her reverie to accept an offered Coke.

“Allen, whose apartment is this?” she said quietly.

“Mine, if I want it.”

“But who does it belong to now?”

“A man named Gino. But he says it’s too big for him. He lives at the Waldorf—likes it better that way.”

“But Allen, you can’t afford anything like this!”

“You’d be surprised at what I can afford.” He was wearing that strange smile again.

She started back inside. “Allen, I think I had better go. I’m very tired . . . and very mixed up.”

“Anne . . .” He caught her arm. “I’m rich, Anne—very, very rich.”

She stared at him silently. And suddenly she knew he was telling the truth.

“I love you, Anne. In the beginning I just couldn’t believe you were going with me all this time and didn’t know.”

“Know what?”

“Who I am.”

“Who are you?”

“Oh, I’m still Allen Cooper. That’s the only thing you do know about me. My name. Only to you it doesn’t seem to ring any bells. You accepted me as an unsuccessful little insurance salesman.” He grinned. “You don’t know what it’s done to me these past few weeks, hiding you out at inexpensive restaurants, watching you order the least expensive thing on the menu, knowing you were worried about my sales. Anne, no one has ever really cared about
me
before. At first I thought it was a gag, that you knew and were conning me. Oh, it’s been tried before. That’s why I asked so many questions—where you came from, all about Lawrenceville. Then I had a detective make a check.”

He saw her eyes narrow and grabbed her hands. “Anne, don’t be angry. You were too perfect to be true. Gino couldn’t believe it. But when the reports came in, when it all turned out to be on the level—the family home, the widowed mother, the aunt and your good New England background—you’re class, Anne, real class. Jesus, when I found out I wanted to send off rockets. I’d been so sure nothing like this could ever happen to me—that someone I worshipped could like me for myself! Can’t you see what that means to me?” He danced her around the room. “You care! You really care! Not for what I have, but for me!”