Chapter 13
Marilyn felt swells of eagerness beating rapidly within her as she waited for the elevator. The ride down seemed endless. Then the long wait on the sidewalk for the light to change. She was going like a travelling carnival to meet a girl from the Garden Street vicinity who had called and offered her a wide break in her article series. It would be a good break for her and the paper if anything startling could be added and with a refined sense of malice toward both the informer and the community she came from, Marilyn decided to caulk the seams of her expose and see it to the end.
When the light turned green she walked rapidly across the street and turned a corner. She walked two small blocks and approached a small bar. From the outside the place possessed the appeal of a nasty case of exzema. Inside it was correct in every detail with neat furnishings and heavy drapes and low lights. The girl who called had requested meeting her in this particular place and Marilyn wondered if this could possibly be her favorite uptown hangout.
The bar was dark at first and she stood for a long moment allowing her eyes to become accustomed to the lack of adequate lighting. She noticed the bartender, built like a stuffed lamppost of ponderous proportions. A few men leaned on the bar and slowly rolled their drinks between conversation. She felt for a moment she was treading on lower ground than hell. When she was convinced she had conquered the darkness she stepped toward the rear where the small tables were situated. The girl had said she would wear a white dress and white shoes. That's all. Maybe that was her way of turning jam into caviar, Then she saw the girl. Alone and dressed in white she had a small flower set neatly in a balanced coiffure and she was gulping a glass of wine. She looked trim and tan and reluctantly she admitted that the girl was a pretty wench. When Marilyn approached the girl's table her eyes startled and her mouth opened in amazement. It was the same girl she and Lou had seen one night in the restaurant. Now she sat demurely, sweetly dressed and smiling daintily, soft shoulders well-tanned to match her face and she could have posed for a bridal ad. Marilyn stood still for a moment, confounded.
"I'm Tina, the girl who called you."
Marilyn sat down. "Yes-and I'm Marilyn-the girl you spoke to on the phone."
"I hope nobody sees me talking to you."
Marilyn raised her eyes. "Why, Tina?"
"Believe me, it's dangerous. Our kind isn't supposed to be talking to reporters ... especially while we're being exposed and investigated." Marilyn thought she saw the girl's teeth chattering.
Marilyn rubbed her palms together reflectively. Then she turned around and ordered a drink from the bartender. When she sipped the martini she felt awakened with impending confusions. This seemed to be a day for things to happen. Then her mind was calm and aware and she raised her face to Tina.
"You feel you took a big chance seeing me, don't you, Tina?" Marilyn wanted to know.
Tina nodded meekly. "I guess that's it-and I'm scared." Her voice wavered and she closed her eyes.
Marilyn touched Tina's hands assuringly. "Well, don't be scared-you have the power of the press on your side. Besides that," she added with narrowed eyes, "you're different, Tina, very different and unlike the depraved tarts floating around Garden Street. Just tell me everything."
Tina smiled inwardly at the crinoline cloud Marilyn was putting over her. She felt she was putting up a good act-so simple and pathetic-that if she maintained her thespian behavior much longer they would ban her in Boston.
"Are you going to write down anything I say?" asked Tina, innocently.
Marilyn smiled warmly. "Only if it's necessary. I'll try to remember everything. I've been trained to have a retentive memory," she said.
Tina lit a cigarette and settled back against the tufted leather back and surveyed the reporter as though she was viewing a landscape with booby traps.
"I feel wonderful talking to someone out of my own neighborhood," she said, trying to sound sad.
"Maybe when it's all over you will get yourself some nice place closer to this part of town."
"I hope so-I really do."
"Let's begin," said Marilyn, pushing herself into the far corner of the booth. "You begin talking."
Tina began and hoped she would not flounder-that whatever she told the reporter would sound authentic and convincing. "All right," she said slowly. "It's not a very glamorous story but then nothing is where I come from. I came from a small town in Maine and I wanted to paint for a career so I came to the big famous city to bare my talents and conquer the advertising world. It was hard and frustrating and I found the going rough. Oh, I could have gotten lots of jobs if I would fall into bed with a lot of guys. Every boss had a gimmick-a crude sex bomb bulging from his pocket. Long live dynamite." She laughed and cupped her mouth.
Marilyn's eyes flickered. "Very interesting, Tina, please continue," she said eagerly.
"Well," Tina continued, "I soon became involved with everything but my art work. The boys were tough but I would say the girls more than met them half way. They banded together for kicks and got all the pot they wanted and caroused with drink. It took so little to cheer me-I had such simple tastes-I took everyone at his word. You may not believe it but I was a healthy virgin when I got here. I'm not ashamed to say I'm no longer in that status. After a while the life nettled me and I lost my attachment for their way of living."
Marilyn wondered if that was all because so far the information Tina had given her was a relic not worth exhuming and putting in print. Country girl comes to big city for fame and fortune and is hatched into a nervous sexpot. The whole world already knew there was no greater gift than genital joy. Then Tina's voice suddenly assumed a stilled, persistent sadness.
"There's something I really must tell you so you won't be hurt in any way-and if it's hard to believe in the end you know I'm telling the truth. I think you've been seeing the wrong man, Marilyn," Tina said seriously with extreme caution.
Marilyn's eyes opened wide. "What man are you talking about, Tina?" she demanded.
Tina's long lashes lowered. "The man who works on your paper. His name is Lou and he's been up to my room a lot of times and he wanted his sex strangely-in ways I never heard of. I wondered if he wasn't hooked on drugs besides dames." She stopped and the story sounded like an unfinished revolution.
Marilyn was staggered. "You mean-Lou-the man you saw me with the first night at the bar? Is that the man you are speaking about?" asked Marilyn, highly excited.
When Tina nodded her head in assent Marilyn froze into immobility. "Yes, Marilyn, that's the very same man," Tina said.
Tina's eyes were glints of sensous vengence and it shook Marilyn into jelly. "Please continue," she told the dark-eyed girl.
"This was about the time your articles began coming out in the papers. Well, one night this Lou picked me up and asked me to take him up to my room. Hell, Marilyn, he's such a good-looking guy ... I don't see many like him around the neighborhood-I agreed and we started to love it up."
Marilyn jumped up. "As quickly as that-you took him up and you both made love? Is that it?"
Tina smiled and snapped her fingers. "Yes, as quickly as that."
Marilyn decided to let the reel out a little more.
She exhaled a mouthful of smoke from the cigarette she had just lit and lowered her voice. "So what's so unusual about that, Tina? Two people love privately and smugly. It wasn't a public exhibition. I'm sure he put you in a sexual trance, didn't he?" Marilyn asked.
The softness had gone out of Tina's face and now it was bloated with a crust of aroused hardness and all that you wanted to know of her and Lou shone in the way her eyes rolled and the leering smile enveloping her face.
"Trance is exactly the right word, Marilyn," she continued, "because some of the things he wanted me to do for him mortified me-low animal things I never even heard of. He kept getting me drunk and then I let him. Every night or every other night-I don't remember-he kept coming back. When I refused the second time he threatened me and said he would have my name in the column you were writing and he knew all the cops and vice men and everything would be his word against mine if I squealed. So what could I do, Marilyn?" she begged.
Tina forced some sobs and conveniently shook her body in the proper accompanying fashion to induce sympathy. Marilyn handed her a handkerchief and tried to console her. Now her mind raced. At a magic, rapid pace. Now, suddenly, a far bigger expose was at hand for her to reveal. The look of a radar trap was in her burning eyes as she studied Tina.
Tina dried her eyes and looked at Marilyn.
"I don't feel like talking any more," she said suddenly.
"Why not?" Marilyn asked.
Tina leaned closer to her over the table.
"Because I don't really have to," the black-eyed girl whispered softly, "I was smart-I kept a diary with names and places and I have cancelled checks showing the amounts he paid me each time."
"Tina," her voice was suddenly breathless. "Where can I see these things-the records you kept? I must see them to prove it in my articles. I need that evidence, Tina, I need it."
"Oh, I'll give it to you. I don't need it. But I don't have it with me. I figured it might be very important to the right party so I left it in a close friend's home at the end of town. If you really want to see it, Marilyn," Tina said eagerly, her eyes rolling, "just tell me and I'll see if my friend will be home tomorrow and we can all go over there and get it."
Marilyn thought of Lou and that was when she felt like drowning-suffocating in one fell swoop and get it over with. But early sadness always had afternoon pleasantries and she pushed the despair from her mind. Tina had the things she needed to confront her and advance her career at the newspaper. To hell with him-plenty of other nice guys around.
"Why don't you call me during the day tomorrow and I can meet you and go to your friend's house-whenever you say, Tina," Marilyn suggested firmly.
Tina stood up. "I'm sorry to have been the one to tell you about him-I mean your boyfriend," Tina said with obvious regret.
Marilyn smiled like a born loser. "Life has a way of moving apart sometimes, Tina, and if we're big enough we can move it back again," she said with a smile.
"I'll call you early tomorrow."
"Please do, Tina. I'll be waiting."
The pretty girl with the black hair and white dress walked erectly toward the door. Marilyn observed her from behind and felt elated at the sudden turn of events that would create a starring role for her on the newspaper. She sat quietly for a while draining the last of her martini and drying her thoughts with a stifled groan. She had given the whole of herself as she had never done before to Lou and she remembered the first day she met him. He called her a smart dame in a brilliant century and she had liked his original wit. She once told him that trusting people was not one of her strong points. She turned a little toward the mirror on her right and played a wan smile on herself. All that was missing was Lou-damn his soul.