She hesitated. "Only if I was a star. A real big star. I'd be driven
into town for a visit in a fancy limo and I'd show em all who I
wasevery damn one of them." Now she was warming to her subject. "I'd
be wearin' one of those big fox fur coats like Diana Ross, an' some
kinda slinky sequined dress. And I'd have a carload of presents for
Aretha Mae and Harlan."
"Do you miss him?" Nick asked, pulling up at a stoplight.
Her expression was wistful. "Sometimes I feel bad about leavin' him
behind-kinda guilty."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. But we couldn't have taken him."
"I know."
"Hey-maybe we'll both make it big an' we can go back together.
How's that?"
She nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! We'll show that damn town a thing
or two."
As he was dropping her off at her apartment they bumped into Annie
Broderick getting into her car.
"I see you two found each other," Annie said. "Is he really your
brother?"
Cyndra nodded happily, clinging to his arm. "Absolutely. Didn't you
believe him?"
"You aren't exactly the same color," Annie said bluntly.
"We share the same father, but not the same mother," Cyndra explained
matter-of-factly.
"I was only looking out for your interests," Annie said, pushing her
hand through her short red hair. "Didn't want some stranger breaking
into your apartment."
"You looked after her interests, all right," Nick said. "I almost had
to sleep in my car."
"At least you've got a car. Think yourself lucky."
"Thanks, Annie," Cyndra said quickly-defusing the situation.
"What's her problem?" Nick asked, as soon as she left.
"It's tough being a single girl alone in L.A."
"No boyfriend?"
"She's into her career.
"What does she do anyway? She said something about going to class the
other night."
Cyndra looked amused. "What do you think she does? What do you think
everyone does in L.A.? She's an actress of course."
"So-how do you get into this class of hers? Do you have to pay?"
"Dunno-never been. Talk to Annie about it."
"Maybe I will."
A few weeks later Nick had settled into the L.A. routine. He had his
job at Glamour Limousines. He had his apartment at the beach. He'd
even started to work out a little and eat healthier foods, and he spoke
to Cyndra on the phone every couple of days.
All she could talk about was the deals Reece was about to make on her
behalf. He didn't trust Reece. The guy had "con artist" written all
over him-he'd seen enough cheap hustlers in Q.J."s to recognize that
combination of smarmy charm and bullshit a mile away Still . . . it
wasn't his business, Cyndra seemed happy enough.
One day he asked her for Annie Broderick's number.
"Why? Are you plannin' on taking her out?" Cyndra asked.
He hadn't considered it, but it wasn't such a bad idea if he wanted to
find out more about her acting class. Plus he was feeling horny.
Oh, was he horny! Of course, Annie Broderick was not his usual type,
too gamin-looking and short, but he had to admit she did have a
sensational body-and it had been too long between pit stops. He was
even starting to miss DeVille.
Cyndra gave him Annie's number. He waited a day and called. "I'd like
to buy you lunch," he said, expecting an immediate yes.
"Why?" she asked suspiciously.
Oh, shit, he was going to have to work for it." Cause I kinda think we
got off on a downer, an' I don't have many friends here."
She was silent.
He was prepared to work-but not that hard. "Hey-big deal. You wanna
have lunch or not?"
She was not exactly filled with enthusiasm. "Maybe."
Didn't she realize this was Nick Angelo calling? "Maybe. What's that
supposed to mean?"
"Tell me where."
"The Body Beautiful on Santa Monica."
"Are you kidding me? What's the Body Beautiful?"
"It's a health club."
Glamour Limousines. The Body Beautiful. They sure loved to foster
illusions in L.A. "Okay," he said.
"I get a break at noon.
"Il be there."
Body Beautiful was in a big white building on Santa Monica. The place
was alive with people hurrying in and out, all wearing shorts, tank
tops, cut-outs, tights, every kind of variation on workout gear.
"Can I help you?" asked a California blonde perched behind the
reception desk, her perky breasts covered by a white Body Beautiful
T-shirt.
"I'm looking for Annie Broderick," he said, checking out her
attributes.
She caught him looking, fluttered long fake lashes and smiled. "Oh you
must be Nick."
He was surprised Annie had mentioned him-maybe she liked him better
than she'd let on.
"Is she around?"
"She's getting changed. She'll be with you in a minute." The girl's
smile brightened. "I understand you're new in town."
"Sort of."
"How did you meet Annie?"
"She lives in the same building as my sister," he said, noticing that
she wasn't wearing a bra.
"Hmm . . ." She eyed him hungrily. "I wish I did."
He knew a come-on when it hit him in the face. "What's your name?" he
asked, going along for the ride.
Annie cut him off at the pass by appearing at the reception desk.
"Let's go," she said briskly, taking his arm and leading him out of the
building.
"Where are we going?" he asked, thinking she looked healthy and
glowing and really quite attractive-even if she wasn't his type.
"There's a health food place across the street. Have you ever tried a
turkey burger?"
"Is that like a hamburger without the taste?"
She smiled. "Come on-you'll love it."
"I will?"
"Yes, you will," she said firmly.
They crossed the street, entered the restaurant and sat at a window
table. Annie immediately ordered two health burgers. "Turkey, soya
and seasonings. It's the most delicious thing you've ever tasted," she
assured him.
"I'm drooling!"
"You're funny."
They exchanged smiles.
"So," he said, "you work at a health club, eat healthy foods and
exercise in the pool. What are you in training for-the Olympics?"
She tapped her fingers on the table. "I don't know if I told you or
not, but I'm really an actress. That's why I have to stay in great
shape."
"Isn't being a good actress enough?"
"Producers expect you to have a Raquel Welch body."
"In case you have to do a nude scene, huh?"
"Maybe."
"Would you?"
"If it was an integral part of the story."
He burst out laughing. "Come on-that's like me saying I read Playboy
for the articles."
She couldn't help laughing too. The waitress delivered their turkey
burgers. Nick looked at his suspiciously.
"Go ahead, taste it," Annie encouraged.
"Can I have ketchup?"
He had no intention
of getting rejected. Once he got through the
door-whoever's door it was-he was going to make such an impression
they'd never let him go.
"I'd like to come to class with you. I could sit in back and watch."
"I don't see why not. You're allowed to observe two sessions, after
that you have to pay-that's if Miss Byron accepts you."
"Who's Miss Byron?"
"Joy Byron-the best acting coach in town."
If she was the best, he wanted her. "When can I come?"
"How about tonight?"
"No, nights are out. I got this gig driving for a limo company."
"I had a friend who sold a script to a producer while he was driving
him to Santa Barbara."
"Really?"
"It can happen. You have to find out exactly who you've got in the car
and go for the pitch. That's what my friend says. It certainly worked
for him. His point is if they can afford to hire a limousine they must
be someone.
He remembered Luigi and his ferocious scowl. "I got strict orders not
to talk to the paying customers."
"You don't look like a man who follows orders."
She was right, it was about time he found out who he was driving and
did something about it.
"I'll let you in on a little secret about this town," Annie confided,
her bright eyes meeting his. "I've been here three years, and if
there's any way you can Thake a connection, go for it. Don't let
anything stand in your way.
He leaned across the table and took her hand, which was surprisingly
small and soft. "Thanks, I like good advice."
They finished lunch, and as they were parting company she suggested he
might want to come to class with her on the following Saturday.
"Sounds good," he said. "I'll pick you up."
"You can have anything you like.
"Anything?" he teased.
"Within reason," she replied, beckoning the waitress. "Susie, bring us
a couple of glasses of the big A and a bottle of ketchup."
"You come here all the time, huh?"
"It's convenient." She paused for a moment. "Uh, Nick, I'm sorry if I
seemed a little tense with you when we first met, but I had no idea who
you were. And it seemed kind of strange-you know, Cyndra being, well
.
. ." She hesitated, then blurted it out. "Black."
"Yeah-I see your point."
The waitress brought the ketchup and two large glasses of deep brown
liquid.
He picked up his glass. "What's this?"
"Pure apple juice," she explained. "No preservatives. Drink upyou'll
enjoy it."
"Jeer! I've really gotta get used to you."
"Maybe you have a chance," she said casually.
Was he finally getting through? "Cyndra told me you go to acting
class," he said, smothering his burger in ketchup.
"That's right."
He took a bite-it wasn't half bad. "Howdja get into that?"
She sipped her apple juice. "If you're not working you have to study,
it's important to keep on learning."
"What kind of class is it?"
Her eyes shone with enthusiasm. "It's an actors workshop. We do all
kinds of interesting things. Scenes from plays and movies.
Improvisation. A lot of working actors go there."
"Yeah?" he said, taking a gulp of apple juice. "Sounds
interesting."
"It is."
He studied her pertly pretty face. "Have you ever had a professional
job? Like in a movie or on television?"
She looked pleased that he'd asked. "As a matter of fact I've been in
three commercials."
He was impressed. "I guess you've got an agent then?"
"How come all these questions, Nick?"
He decided to confide in her. "Why do you think? Listen, I had a
great job in Chicago running a banI was the king of my own little
kingdom. But ever since high school I've had a thing about acting."
"You can't just do it. You have to be good."
"Oh, I'm good," he boasted.
"Glad to hear it, because one thing you need is plenty of confi She
sighed. "It helps when you get rejected twenty times a "Okay. I'll
see you at four."
That night, when Luigi assigned him Mr. Evans again, he was not
exactly thrilled. This Evans guy was a deadbeat, no connections to be
had there.
It turned out to be the same routine as before. The same badtempered
face, the same briefcase clutched to his side, the same nontip. Nick
had a good mind to tell Luigi he didn't want to drive him again. He'd
talked to the other drivers and found out that most customers handed
out cash tips on top of the percentage added to the bill. No chance
with this tightwad.
"That Evans guy is a real cheapo," he complained to Luigi when he
dropped the limo back. "Do me a favor an' stop assigning me to him."
"Am I hearin' right?" Luigi demanded, eyes bulging. "Mr. Manfred
gives ya a job outta the kindness of his fuckin' heart-an' now you're
mouthin' off an' tellin' me who ya will an' who ya won't drive."
"I'm entitled to an opinion," he said stubbornly.
"You're entitled t'suck my nuts if I tell ya to."
"I guess I'll pass on that tempting offer."
Luigi made a rude gesture. "In your eyes, punk."
The next night when he reported for work Luigi greeted him with a
knowing sneer. "Mr. Manfred wants t'see ya."
"What about?"
"Do I strike ya as a fuckin' information center?"
Manny Manfred greeted him looking fatter than ever. It didn't seem
possible, but could he have gained another twenty pounds?
"How's it going', Nick?"
Surprise. The fat man remembered his name.
"Okay," he said carefully.
"An' the actin' thing? Any auditions yet?"
"I'm lookin' into it."
"That's the way t'do it," Manny said, reaching into a bowl of jelly
beans, grabbing a handful and stuffing them into his surprisingly small
pink mouth.
Nick noticed he was wearing a Rolex-the heavy gold watch gleamed as it
caught the light.
"I talked to Q.J" Manny said, munching away.
"You did?"
"He likes ya."
"I know."
"He trusts ya.
"I should hope so. I worked for him nearly four years."
Manny spat out a red jelly bean. It landed with a disgusting blob of
spit on his huge knee. He brushed it to the floor.
"Loyalty an' trust-them's the things ya can't buy."
"Right." Nick waited for the pitch he knew was on its way.
"So . . ." Manny said, not disappointing him. "I got a
proposition."
"Yeah?"
"Ya look like a smart kid."
Ieez! Compliments! From the fat man himself Big fucking deal.
"I can handle myself," he said carefully.
"That's what I like t'hear," Manny said, beaming. "Soon as Luigi told
me ya was complainin' I knew ya wasn't satisfied sittin' behind the
wheel of a car-drivin' some rich motherfucker ya knows you're better
than."
"It's a job."
"An' so's what I got in mind for ya."
"Is it legal?"
"Are you bothered?"
"Why don't you tell me about it?"
Lauren and Jimmy had been out
on four dates exactly. the last two
ending with a chaste kiss on her front doorstep.
Now they were on their fifth date and she knew that tonight he expected
more. Not that he actually came out and said so-he wasn't that
obvious-but she'd picked up little signs here and there, and after a