Valley of the Dolls (58 page)

Anne left the bathroom. She switched on the light in the living room and poured herself a drink of brandy, hoping it would steady her stomach. Neely was working hard, rehearsing four hours a day, and George had already launched the publicity buildup. Neely’s first concert was booked in Toronto, which was far enough from the local critics so that no bad reviews would reach New York. Neely would have a chance to break in her act.

She looked at the apartment wistfully. It was beautiful, but if she was pregnant they’d have to move. And she’d be let out of her contract with Gillian on the “act of God” clause. She’d be glad to be free. It would give her time to find a new apartment and furnish it. How would she do the nursery? A surge of excitement made her almost dizzy. Oh, God, let it be true!

Two weeks later her hopes were confirmed. At first Lyon took the news with mixed feelings. He was delighted, but it would revolutionize their way of life. Anne would have to stop working the end of June—the baby was due in the middle of January, and her waistline had already thickened an inch. But once she assured him how easily everything would run, his doubts vanished and he joined in her enthusiasm.

In the middle of June they flew to Toronto to hear Neely’s concert. Anne sat in the darkened auditorium sick with fear. So much rested on this appearance. George and Lyon were thinking of their investment, but she realized what a setback it could be for Neely if the engagement was not a success. Neely had seemed relaxed and calm backstage. She laughed and said she had nothing at stake, nothing to lose—she could always go back to the funny farm and make ashtrays. George was knuckle-snapping with nerves, and Lyon’s eyes were narrowed with anxiety.

The lights went down and a full orchestra broke into Neely’s theme, a hit song from one of her pictures. The heavy curtain parted and Neely came out on the bare stage. She was in a plain, black, street-length dress. Her legs were still good, and the black dress partially concealed her vast bulk. But there was an audible gasp from the audience, who had unconsciously envisioned her in the image of her early movie days. Neely heard it and grinned.

“I’m real fat,” she said heartily. “But so are a lot of opera singers. Only with me, you’re not gonna get opera. I’m just here to sing my heart out for you—and my heart is big and fat too, so if you like, I’ll do a lot of singing.”

The applause was deafening. Neely was home before she began. Her voice was clear, true and haunting. A mass hypnotism took hold of the audience. They went into a frenzy welcoming Neely back into their hearts. Anne had never heard such an ovation.

It was the same in Montreal. She broke all house records. In Detroit she was sold out weeks before she arrived. By then the New York newspapers were filled with accounts of her comeback, but George wisely kept her on the road. He traveled with her until September, while Lyon handled the office in New York. Anne had obtained her release from Gillian, and she used her new freedom to furnish the large apartment she had found. Her pregnancy was obvious now, but each fluttering movement of the life within her added to her happiness. Gillian had wanted to give her a leave of absence, but she had insisted her resignation be permanent. And even though her mind was on the future, she felt a small thrill of satisfaction when they decided on the policy of using different girls every week. It had been impossible to replace her.

At last George felt Neely was ready for New York. The opening was set for November. They took over a legitimate theatre and booked her on a two-a-day policy, a one-woman concert on Broadway. A week before she opened, her entire three-week engagement was sold out.

Neely’s New York opening was traumatic in its sentimental excitement and success. The audience cheered in damp-eyed hysteria, welcoming back their wayward child. And Anne noticed that some of Neely’s features were once again beginning to emerge from her face. She was still fat, but no longer grotesque—Christine had pummeled off thirty pounds. Her neck was once more in evidence, though she still had two chins. But after one song, the magic of Neely’s voice made everybody forget everything else.

The trouble began the second week of the New York engagement. George and Lyon were trying to sort out the most lucrative offers. There were television guest shots, a picture offer and proposals for several Broadway shows, but Lyon insisted they stick with the concerts. “Another year at least,” he argued. “Maybe we can take off twenty more pounds. We’ll never get her sylphlike again—we can’t chance her dieting—but the rigors of performing, plus Christine, can accomplish wonders. Then we can discuss pictures and television.”

“We have to take a picture or a Broadway show,” George said doggedly. “She refuses to travel any more.”

“But I just booked Los Angeles, San Francisco and the Palladium in London,” Lyon said.

George shrugged. “We had a big hassle last night. She’s on top, so let’s face it—she’s a shit-heel again. The old star sickness is beginning to appear. No more gratitude, just power. She told me she wants to stay in one place. Which I suspect really means our girl wants to get laid.”

“Good God, who would want her?” Lyon asked.

George laughed. “Listen, that’s been my headache all these months. We forget, our blimp is still a human being. Maybe they fed her saltpeter on the funny farm, but she’s raring to go now. For a while we had a sax player who must have dug distortion. He kept her happy until he left the band. Left? I think he ran for his life. She found a few one-night stands, but now she’s had it. She told me she wants an apartment and a steady guy, one who’ll always be around when she wants him. I have a hunch the Johnson Harris office is behind this. They’ve probably sent one of their Steve Stunnings in the black suits and tight pants to kiss her hand and make with the compliments. I think she’s looking for an out with us.”

Lyon smiled. “Let her go. If the Johnson Harris office wants to buy out her contract, let’s take it—for half a million.”

“I thought of that,” George said, “but we can’t throw away the bait when the fish are nibbling. I have a lunch date with Paul Elsom tomorrow.”

Lyon whistled. “That would really start the ball going.”

George nodded. “His last two pictures have outgrossed everything around. If we get him, we get half the stars in Hollywood. With MCA unloading talent management, the field is wide open. All their stars have made short-term agreements everywhere. I’ve put out feelers, but Neely is our bait. We’ve got to keep her.”

“Well, go in there and pitch,” Lyon urged.

“I’ve pitched. Look, Lyon, let’s face it, she’s never liked me. That’s for openers. She had no choice in the beginning. Now she’s hot, so now she can afford not to like me. She called me a greasy pig last night. Imagine that cow calling me a pig. No, Lyon—it’s your turn now.”

Lyon sat in Neely’s dressing room. The matinee was almost over. He stared at the telegrams pasted around the mirror. Every great star in the business had sent congratulations and good wishes. He heard the stupendous applause, the orchestra playing the curtain-call music. He tensed himself for battle.

Neely was happily surprised when she found him in the dressing room. “Thank God that pig partner of yours stayed away. We had a whopper of a fight last night.” She accepted a large glass of beer from Christine and gulped it down. “Whew! That tasted just great. Want some, Lyon?”

“No thanks. How about dinner?” he asked.

“Great. Anne joining us?”

“No, just the two of us.”

She laughed merrily. “Georgie sent in the first team, huh? Well, I’m still not gonna travel any more. But I’ll have dinner with you. Where can we get decent escargots?”

“Let’s go over to Louise’s. Louise can make anything.”

“Great. Can I dunk there? I want gobs of garlic butter and I want black toast and I want to sop it up. That’s the nice part of doing a one-woman show—I have no leading man who will cringe at the smell.” Then she added sadly, “And I have no guy to worry about after the show, either.”

“That will come soon enough,” Lyon said. “You’ve got New York at your feet.”

“That’s just it. But I’ve got no one in my arms. I want a guy. And I’m gonna be choosy from now on. I’m not exactly a size ten, but I’m not a freak. And it’s not just getting laid—I want someone who cares about me, someone I can respect . . . someone to love.”

“Let’s talk about it over the escargots,” he suggested.

Neely ordered two dozen escargots. Lyon toyed with six and listened to her complaints. He had to admit she had an honest gripe—she had no life other than performing.

“Neely.” He reached out and took her hands. “I can see your side of it. Just do Hollywood, Frisco and London. Then we’ll settle you here, and perhaps take a picture or a Broadway show. I’ll hustle around. If we find the right vehicle we could open in the fall. A Broadway musical would be a perfect move.”

“Who’d go to California and London with me?” she asked.

“George, naturally.”

“Forget it,” she said with determination.

“Now look, you and George have had words, but he’s not a bad sort. Neely, your entire success was his idea.”

“There’d have been no success if I hadn’t had the talent,” she said sullenly.

“Naturally, but George had the vision to see it, to believe in you.”

“And you didn’t?”

“To be honest, no. I was doubtful.”

“You thought I didn’t have it any more?”

“I didn’t think of the talent part. I thought of the grind. To me, your comeback brought visions of dieting, strain and nerves. It was George who insisted the public would accept you as you were. And he was right.”

Neely dropped the piece of bread she had been about to sop in the butter sauce. She pushed the plate away. “You talk about me as if I’m a freak.”

“Come now, Neely, you know what I mean. I think you’re marvelous—a great talent and a delightful personality.”

“But a fat slob, huh?”

“No, but not quite reed thin. Not like you were in pictures.”

“I guess no man could really fall for me looking like this,” she said. “I know the twins stared at me when they came to Detroit. God, they’re handsome kids. I’m glad they live with Ted. It almost killed me when he got custody while I was in the funny farm, but I guess he’s straightened out pretty good. His marriage seems to be working. I still think he’s a switch hitter, but the boys don’t know. I’ll never forget their faces when they saw me, though. Bud—he’s the taller one—he said, ’Gee, Mom, we saw one of your pictures on the Late Show, but you sure look different now.’ “

“You don’t need to be thin,” Lyon insisted.

“I could be thin if I had a reason to be,” she said sadly. “I can’t get thin under pressure from a studio—but I can for love. Like when the studio yelled at me to stay thin, I became a sneak eater. But when I first met Ted and fell for him and he said to drop fifteen pounds, I did, just like that. Because I
wanted
to, to please him. That’s why I want to stay here, Lyon. I want to fall in love, to find a guy. I hate what I see in the mirror.”

“Neely, your voice and personality are what make you, not a waistline,” Lyon insisted.

She shook her head. “I love pretty clothes. I don’t want to keep wearing a plain black dress on the stage. But I have to, this way. It kind of hides things. But I have no incentive to get thin. I have to find a guy—then I’ll get thin and love myself.”

“Do Hollywood, San Francisco and London,” he urged. “The rest will come.”

She was thoughtful for a moment. Then she said, “Okay . . . if you come along instead of George.”

“Neely, how can I?”

“Look, I can’t stand George. If I have to look at that moon face of his day in and day out, I’ll vomit. He can’t even play gin rummy. Do you play gin?”

“Like Nick the Greek. But Neely, I can’t leave. Anne is terribly pregnant. The baby is due in six weeks.”

“Oh . . . I forgot.” Suddenly she brightened. “Postpone my dates. Book ’em after the baby is born. I could stand a little rest anyway.”

“I couldn’t leave Anne then. Not with a new baby.”

“Anne could come with us. Listen, I had twins. I know. A good nurse is all they need the first few months. They don’t even see until they’re three months old.”

“Let me think about it,” he said.

It was easy to put off the Palladium. Lyon switched the booking to the middle of February. But the Los Angeles and San Francisco dates were impossible to change. Neely had to open there over Christmas and New Year’s. Lyon feverishly tried to keep the problem from Anne, but Neely told her.

She had dropped by to see the new apartment. Everything was finally in place. Anne, looking ungainly in her pregnancy, showed Neely every room with pride, especially the nursery.

They settled in the den. Anne sipped some sherry and Neely had a beer. A light snow had begun to fall, and Anne started the fireplace going. “Our first fire in the fireplace,” she said. “Make a wish, Neely.”

“Why?”

“You always make a wish on something you do for the first time.”

“Then I wish you’d have your baby tonight,” Neely said.

“Why? I’m not due for at least a month.”

“I know, but I won’t go to Los Angeles unless Lyon goes, and he won’t leave until the baby is born and you can come.”

Anne knew there was trouble between Neely and George, but this was the first she had heard of the change in bookings. She listened while Neely explained.

“But I wouldn’t go to London, even in February. I couldn’t leave my baby,” she said.

“Sure you can,” Neely argued. “It won’t even be human by then.”

“It’s human to me now,” Anne said hotly. “Every time it moves inside me I mentally blow it a kiss.”

“They’re just blobs the first few months, Anne. Honest. All that crap about them smiling at you—that’s just gas. The doctor told me. They just see light and blurs. They don’t recognize you or focus until they’re about three months old. A good nurse can handle a new baby better than you can.”

“I’ve waited too long for this baby, Neely. And it’s been worth the wait, just to realize I have something of Lyon inside me that we’ve created out of love. I’ll never leave our baby.”