Winning is Everything (30 page)

“Say when!” said Kip.

“Well, hon, there’s always tomorrow night. We could swing by a cocktail party or two, then head back up to my modest penthouse.”

“What time should I call for you?”

“Why don’t you pick me up here at the office tomorrow night … five-forty-five? We’ll strike out from here.”

“Terrific,” said Kip, thinking ahead to his interview on Friday afternoon. “I can hardly wait.”

Phyliss thought ahead to bringing Kip back to her apartment. “I can hardly wait either.”

63 

Phyliss was on three phone lines at once when Kip stepped into her office at 5:50. She was in the middle of a heated discussion about some money commitments and motioned for Kip to take a seat. She spent the next twelve minutes jumping back from Los Angeles to New York to London, and only once while she was haggling, screaming, complaining, or bargaining did she take the time to blow him a short kiss.

He smiled back and picked up a copy of her weekly
Variety.

After finally signing off to the West Coast, the Atlantic coast, and the English Channel, Phyliss hung up the phone and pretended to faint across her desk.

“Tough day, huh?” asked Kip.

“All in the name of money, honey!” said Phyliss. “Clients! That’s what life is all about.”

“Maybe a couple of parties will pick you up.”

“Parties?” Phyliss complained. “There’s no such thing as
parties,
not anymore. The only thing we have nowadays is business, honey, and don’t you forget it! That reminds me. You and I need a signal. Anytime I go places these days, I’m bound to be collared by someone I don’t want to be with. Agents, producers, actors, yucch! So … if you see me scratching the top of my head like this, that’s your cue to come rescue me. Say that it’s time for our dinner appointment, say someone on the other side of the room wants to see me, say it’s time for my insulin injection. Anything, okay? Can’t stand to be smothered at parties.”

“Why don’t we just skip the damn things?” asked Kip.

Phyliss stood up and walked toward Kip. “Cutie, you are too cute. There are only two reasons we have to show up at tonight’s fetes. One is to do business for you, the other is to do business for me. Now, if I rub my nose, that means run over, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Phyliss was now standing in front of Kip. She looked down at him and placed her hands on his shoulders. She then wrapped both arms around his neck and squeezed tightly, saying, “Huggy-huggy, kiss-kiss.”

* * *

The first party was crowded, festive, and star-studded. Kip spent most of his time watching Phyliss work the room. She’d be talking to someone and suddenly start rubbing her nose. Kip would immediately hurry to her side and Phyliss would introduce the producer/agent/ writer/publicist to Kip.

After an hour and a half of how-do-you-dos, Phyliss walked up to Kip. “Had enough canapés?”

“Sure,” said Kip.

“Wanna go on to another party?”

“If you do,” Kip answered. “I like watching you in action. It’s most impressive.”

“Ain’t it the truth, honey?” Phyliss agreed. “Okay, let’s git. I still have eleven business cards I haven’t yet handed out.”

The second party was held farther uptown in a small apartment on Third Avenue. The food was not as good, the crowd was bigger but less star-studded, and they’d only been there five minutes when Phyliss grabbed Kip by the hand and whispered, “Don’t disappear on me, Kip. We’re gettin’ outta here in nothing flat. You know it’s a lousy party when I’m the biggest name here!” Phyliss smiled at a friend across the room and hurried to greet her.

Sure enough, five minutes later, Phyliss found Kip again and tugged his sleeve. “Okay. This is your last call. We’re leaving before my boredom level dips to a new low. All set?”

“Say the word,” said Kip.

“We’re going for dinner with a few friends I just ran into. A writing team, married, cute, sweet, you’ll like them. And a smart young director and his wife.”

“But I didn’t bring much—”

“Relax. We were invited. They’ll pick up the tab. We were supposed to meet them downstairs in the lobby three minutes ago. Let’s get out of here.”

They ended up at Elaine’s.

“Look around, will you?” Phyliss advised Kip. “Tout New York is here. I’m sorry now I only have eleven business cards left. I could make a killing. Christ, if someone were to set off a bomb in here, you could say good-bye to show biz as we know it.”

Kip looked around, recognizing several faces from films and television. James Garner, Julie Andrews and Blake Edwards, Barbara Walters, Albert Finney, Lynda Byrd Johnson with George Hamilton, and over at a table near the rear, sitting with a group of people he didn’t recognize, Ron Zinelli with Casey Kramer.

“Excuse me,” Kip said to Phyliss. “There’s someone I must say hello to.”

As he got up, Phyliss said to the rest of the table, “A week ago, before we met, he was shy and retiring. Now look at him—table-hopping at Elaine’s!”

Kip tapped Ron on the back.

“Kip!” Ron said loudly, surprised, turning around. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Eating, I would imagine,” said Kip. “Same as you.”

Ron introduced Kip to Casey and to the other two smartly dressed couples at the table, then asked, “How’ve you been? Haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“I’m good,” said Kip.

“Who’re you here with?” asked Ron.

Kip pointed discreetly.

“Jesus!” exclaimed Ron, trying hard to maintain his composure. “How in God’s name did you ever …?”

“It’s a long story,” said Kip. “Come home sometime to change your underwear and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Phyliss Dodge, for God’s sake. Kip … she’s le big time.”

“Really?” Kip feigned innocence.

“She representing you?”

“I sure hope so,” said Kip.

“Listen,” said Ron in confidence, “whatever you have to do to keep her on your side,
whatever
, will be well worth it. Believe me.”

“She’s already on my side,” said Kip.

“And to think I’ve been accused of always fucking
anything.”

“Don’t be such a callous jerk,” said Kip. “As it happens, I like her. I like her a lot. She’s a terrific lady and a lot of fun.”

“Hey, relax,” Ron backed down. “Each man to his own tastes. Enjoy those beer-barrel thighs. I’m just reminding you she’s also a great contact. And remember, as Jiminy Cricket said in
Pinocchio,
‘What’s an actor want with a conscience, anyway?’”

A waiter arrived at the table with a fresh bottle of Italian red wine, and as he dribbled some into the first few glasses around the table, Ron took the momentary distraction to pull Kip’s arm and whisper into his ear, “I’m in a bit of a spot, pal. Said I’d pay for the extra wine. Dope sitting next to Casey ordered a highly priced vintage. Got twenty bucks you could advance me?”

“Ron, I’ve advanced you over a hundred dollars in the last few months and still haven’t seen penny one returned on my investment,” Kip whispered back.

“Don’t make a scene,” said Ron. “These rich people aren’t interested in the size of the bill or even who pays it. They figure someone will invariably take care of it, and unfortunately, that someone is most probably going to be me. Just slip it into my hand …” Ron smiled at his dinner companions and tasted the newly poured wine.

Kip looked down and saw Ron’s hand, open and pleading. Trying to be inconspicuous, he took a twenty-dollar bill out of his pocket and casually slipped it to his friend.

“Nice meeting all of you,” said Kip, and then he leaned over and whispered into Ron’s ear, “If you’d marry the girl, you’d be able to pay back some of your debts, you know.”

“All in good time,” Ron mused with a wide smile. “All in good time. Have a nice meal. I’ll come over to your table before we leave so you can introduce me to
your
dinner companions.”

“He’s adorable,” Casey said to Ron as she watched Kip head back to his table.

“Of course,” said Ron. “He’s my roommate, isn’t he?”

“No, darling,” said Casey, planting a short kiss on Ron’s nose. “I am!”

64 

It was close to eleven o’clock when Kip and Phyliss got back to her apartment. She sat him down on a couch facing her view of Central Park, brought him a snifter filled with half an inch of cognac, and ducked into her bedroom. “Take off your jacket, stay awhile,” she said as she left the room.

Six minutes later she came back into the living room wearing a see-through peignoir over frilly baby-doll pajamas.

“To coin a phrase,” Phyliss told Kip with a kiss to his lips, “I changed into something more comfortable.”

“That’s real pretty,” said Kip.

“Henri Bendel is on his way to the French Riviera from the profit he made on these scanties,” said Phyliss.

Kip reached forward and put his arms around Phyliss’ neck. “Hey … what happens if things don’t
click
for us?”

“You’re not worried, are you, honey? Big Mama hasn’t lost a patient yet. Besides, you must know I like you for more than just your body, more than that pretty face, more than that dimpled chin, more than those dirty-blond curly locks. I’m genuinely interested in you … in your career. So we don’t make it in the boudoir … no big deal… you’ll just be doing the bus-and-truck tour of
Brother, Can You Spare a Dime,
that’s all.”

Seduction, Kip realized, was the order of the day. He kicked off his shoes, loosened his tie, and eased Phyliss down against the couch. His lips met hers and his arms went around her waist as he found his way beneath the top of her baby-dolls.

“Hey, let’s go to my room,” Phyliss purred.

She led him into a well-furnished, highly romantic room with indirect soft pink lighting and another knockout view of Central Park. The bed was raised up on a platform, like some sacred altar, and there were fresh spring flowers atop an adjoining night table. Phyliss flipped on an all-night FM radio station and guided Kip to the bed.

“Comfy?’ she asked a moment later.

“Mmmmm.”

They kissed. Again hands roamed across uncharted territories.

“You feel real good, honey,” she told him.

“You, too,” Kip said softly.

Phyliss suddenly stood up straight and tall and took two steps backward. “Don’t move!” she said. “I’ve got one or two girly things to work out in the little girl’s room. While I’m gone, why don’t you do something indecent … like get undressed?”

“Completely?” Kip asked.

“You can leave on your after-shave,” Phyliss said with a wink as she left the room.

Phyliss walked out of the bathroom three minutes later and found the sheets pulled down, and Kip propped up against a row of pillows, hands clasped behind his head.

“Just look at you.” She smiled as she climbed up on the bed. “Now, if we can only find some auditions for you in which you don’t have to wear your clothes … you’ll be a star overnight.”

“Come ‘ere!” said Kip, and put his hands out to Phyliss.

She slapped his left hand, slapped his right hand. “Go ‘way,” she playfully scolded. “Got it all worked out. Scoot down a bit …”

Kip scooted down a bit and Phyllis put her hands on each side of his waist and straddled him.

“I’m not too heavy, am I?”Phyliss asked, childlike.

“’Course not,” said Kip, feeling his diaphragm being compacted into his liver.

“Okay, honey,” said Phyliss as she grabbed a side of her baby-doll top with each hand. “Ready or not … here they come!”

Phyliss lifted the top of her pajamas up over her head and sat above Kip, her pendular breasts dangling down into his face.

“Nice,” said Kip as he reached up and took a large hanging ornament in each hand.

While Kip toyed with her breasts, gently squeezing her nipples, Phyliss took her hand and groped down to squeeze a handful of his manhood. She found his testicles large and his cock flaccid.

“What’s this?” she wanted to know. “A bag of dead mice?”

“Huh?” Kip opened his eyes.

“You’re not hard!” said Phyliss. “What’s up?”

“Obviously not me,” said Kip.

“Leave it to me,” said Phyliss. “Big Mama will get this show off the ground. At school I majored in cock! So I’ll just—”

“Sssssh!” Kip interrupted. “Listen to me. I like you a lot. But you take care of my career
outside.
In here … I’ll take care of
you!”

Kip pinned Phyliss’ hands to the bed as he leaned over and kissed her fully on the mouth. She squirmed and protested and finally gave in to his superior strength and she relinquished any say in the matter of who was running their lovemaking.

“Not another word from you/’ said Kip. “For someone who majored in cock, you sure must’ve skipped a few important lectures. Now, lie there and keep quiet. This is not a three-picture deal. It’s just you and me, can you understand that? And until I say otherwise, while we’re in this bed, it’s me who’s gonna be calling the shots. Any questions?”

Phyliss had no questions. In fact, for the first time since Kip had known her, she was speechless.

She just lay there and kept quiet, eventually savoring the experience, as Kip proceeded to take his time, to go about it at his usual snail’s pace, caring and adoring, proceeding gently from one erogenous zone to the next, not leaving an area until Phyliss had expressed complete satisfaction.

The hours passed, and slowly, ever so slowly, Kip made love to Phyliss.

“So you’re Phyliss Dodge’s latest discovery?” Howard Zaffler greeted Kip in his office Friday afternoon.

“I … guess so,” said Kip, taking a seat.

“She’s been speaking very highly of you, very highly.”

“How nice,” said Kip, opening his carrying case.

“Okay,” said the casting director. “Let’s have the required garbage: résumé, photo, blood type …”

Kip handed Zaffler a sheet with an eight-by-ten glossy head shot on one side and his trumped-up résumé stapled to the back.

Zaffler eyed Kip’s list of credits and parts he’d never done and then flipped the sheet over. “]Nice photo,” he allowed.

“Thanks,” said Kip.

“Well, Kip … might as well level with you from the start. Nothin’ here for you. Phyliss said you might be the cowboy type, and indeed you are. But we’re making an Italian western, and I guess I’m looking for cowmen—not boys—because you’re at least ten years too young for any of these parts.”

“Too bad,” said Kip.

“Yeah,” said Zaffler, filing Kip’s photo somewhere beneath a mound of material on his desk. “I’m glad to have met you, though. You stick with Phyliss. She’s well-connected. She goes to bat for you, you’re halfway there.”

Kip stood up. “Well, thanks for seeing me.”

“No problem,” said Zaffler. “That’s what I do for a living.”

Kip went down to the lobby in Zaffler’s office building on Madison Avenue, found a pay phone, and put in a call to Phyliss Dodge.

Surprisingly enough, she accepted his call immediately.

“What happened, hon? Tell me everything!”

“Too young,” said Kip.

“You or the casting director?” asked Phyliss.

“Me, of course!”

“You mean it was a wild-goose chase?”

“Pretty much so. He did say he was happy to meet me, though.”

“Sorry, hon. That’s the name of the game, huh? Don’t let it get you down. After last night, I doubt I would’ve let you travel to the airport in Queens without me, let alone go to Roma for ten days.”

Kip looked at the telephone receiver. “You spoil me,” he said.

“That’s the idea!” said Phyliss. “Let’s play tonight, yes? I’ve got a divine dinner party to take you to. Very A-list.”

Kip hadn’t thought about his plans for that night.

“Trust me,” said Phyliss, sensing his lack of enthusiasm. “Producers, writers, a director or two, maybe even several token thespians like yourself.”

“Sounds like it might be fun,” said Kip, adding, “Sounds like it might be good for my career.”

“Smart thinking,” said Phyliss. “I think you’re starting to catch on. In any case, you’re going to love the people. And then afterward I’ll let you love me! How does that sound?”

“Sounds great,” said Kip.

“Does it bother you I’m so overweight?” asked Phyliss, momentarily insecure.

“Doesn’t bother me,” Kip told her honestly. “Anyway, there are more important things than looks.”

“Really?” asked Phyliss. “Name seventeen.”