Chapter 5

An hour later Candy James sat exhausted in the back seat of the chauffered Mercedes Benz on her way to the Star Club. She had fulfilled her promise to Lou Grady, she had let Max do anything he wanted to her, and now she wanted her payment; the cancelled debt and the contract with Arcade Records. The abused young wife knew she could have waited until the next day, but she wanted it now, so she could bring it to Drew. At least that might take the edge off the deep sense of humiliation and shame she felt. The persistent throbbing ache in her buttocks reminded her over and over of what she had done, and she could only sit in the comforting darkness of the spacious car and try and put it all out of her mind.

Finally the sleek auto pulled up in front of the Star Club and Candy stepped out, walking directly into the club without even a backward glance toward the slyly smiling driver. At first she hoped that Drew would still be there, but she soon realized that the last show was finished for the night and that he'd probably gone home. Glancing around, she looked for Lou Grady but he wasn't in the main club and she guessed he was probably in the Annex. Finally she went to the hat-check counter to talk to Adele, who had the late shift.

"Grady? Oh, I think he's in Haver's private suite. He's here tonight ... Haver, I mean, and there's some kind of party going on." .

Walter Haver rarely stayed long at the club, and his presence always seemed to create an air of suppressed excitement among the employees. The wealthy owner of the Star Club was usually flying some place or another taking care of his many interests. Candy went to the house phone and asked that a call be put through to the suite's special switchboard. After giving her name it seemed like several moments before she heard Grady's voice at the other end.

"Well, Candy baby, nice to hear from you. I understand you and Max had a real good time. Got a cherry, didn't he?" A shudder of disgust passed through the blonde wife's compact frame at his voice. "Come on up to the suite, doll, and I'll give you your prize, okay? I'll tell Carlos to let you in."

Moments later Candy rode up in the silent elevator and wondered how it would be to face the muscular Puerto Rican and Lou again. But when Carlos admitted her there was absolutely no sign of recognition. He just nodded slightly and, taking her arm, led her through the crowd to a table where Lou was laughing and talking with several men, men whose faces she recognized from newspapers or from television.

"Candy, nice to see you!" Grady said, smiling, as she came toward them. "I'll be with you in a minute, I got some important deals goin' with these gentlemen here. Only take a minute. Just ask the spic to make you a drink, okay?" At the word "spic" Candy felt the hand at her elbow tense momentarily, and turning, she saw a flicker of hatred pass across Carlos's handsome, usually impassive face. In the next moment, however, it vanished, and he calmly led her to the bar and poured her a drink.

Drew's wife drank slowly and glanced around the luxurious room, her eyes avoiding the bedroom door. It was a select crowd, people important enough to get past the Annex and into Haver's private quarters. She recognized several movies stars and television personalities, plus the usual fat, faceless businessmen that always seemed to show up at these gatherings. And, of course, there were the girls. No wives or girl friends to mar the festive atmosphere, of course, rather these were all heavily made-up females, with provocative clothes and hard, knowing looks in their eyes. Candy knew instinctively that they were call girls, each one looking vaguely like the other, each with a natural ability to be little more than a decoration, a play-toy.

At that moment Candy noticed that one of the men in the room was staring intently at her, a tall man, vastly more distinguished looking than the others, with dark, silver-streaked hair, dressed immaculately in a pearl-grey suit with blue shirt and tie. It was Walter Haver, the legendary Walter Haver! Candy had seen him fleetingly once or twice before, but now he seemed to be staring at her openly. Their eyes met briefly, and there was a strange, electric charge that seemed to pass between them. In the next instant, Haver turned away and resumed talking to someone.

"Well, baby, here you are. For you and Drew. Now scram."

It was Grady, appearing almost out of nowhere and handing Candy a large brown envelope. In the next moment he was gone....

Fifteen minutes later, Candy sat in a small restaurant, sipping slowly on a cup of coffee and staring at the brown envelope before her on the table. It seemed almost impossible to believe that she finally had what she wanted, that after all the heartache and misery Lou Grady had really given her the key to her future, hers and Drew's. But there it was. Finally, she put down the coffee cup and with trembling fingers she tore open the envelope. She wanted to see that contract in black and white. Reaching inside she pulled out the contents.

Oh no ... no, she gasped as she realized that there was no contract at all, but rather some photographs, along with a note. Then she moaned so audibly that several of the patrons of the restaurant turned round to see what was wrong! Candy was oblivious to their curious stares; her eyes were riveted to the pictures: photographs of her being brutally fucked by Carlos! Tears began to stream hotly down her cheeks as she read the note enclosed with the obscene pictures: Come to the suite tomorrow night at 8:30, Mrs. James. Maybe we can make an arrangement about the negatives. P.S. You might do very well in Hollywood.

Blindly she ripped the note and the photographs to shreds, as if to tear them out of her memory and destroy them forever. But she realized, to her unhappiness, that until she had the negatives there would always be more copies of the pictures to haunt her for the rest of her life. Miserably, she put the torn pieces back into the envelope then walked out of the restaurant into the warm Chicago night. The pianist's young wife was numb now. There were no more tears. She walked like a robot back to the hotel.

As she climbed the stairs toward the apartment, she heard low moans, and, reaching the landing, she saw a figure slumped on the floor outside her door. At first she thought it was a drunk, a filthy bum who had passed out, but as she drew closer she realized with a gasp of horror that it was ... Drew!

"Oh God!" She cried, kneeling next to him. He was nearly unconscious, and there was dirt and spots of blood on his face and clothes. "Oh my God, Drew, what happened, what happened!"

"I ... I ... oh Candy ... I'm hurt."

Clumsily his wife struggled to get him to his feet, and finally she managed to get him inside the apartment. Her heart pounded fearfully as she helped him to the bed. Turning on the light she ran to his side.

"Oh darling what happened to you? What is it?" She searched his face frantically for cuts and injuries but there were none. His clothes were filthy, as if he'd been rolling in mud, and through the tears in his shirt she could see bruises on his chest. Then quickly, instinctively, she looked at his hands and breathed a deep sigh of relief to see that nothing had happened to them.

"No ... no, Candy," he said as if he knew what she had been thinking. "They didn't touch my hands. They said they were saving that for the next time. They said that Lou still wanted his money ... and that they were going to take it out in trade with ... with you ... until they were satisfied ... and that if we went to the police or ran away they'd follow us ... oh God, Candy ... oh, God!"

He began to cry and held tightly to his wife, holding her like a lost child.

Candy held him, comforted him, whispered words of endearment, told him it would be all right. But she knew now that it wouldn't be all right. They were trapped. Like flies in a spider's web they were the victims of Lou Grady and his henchmen. They could do anything they wanted now to both of them. They had Drew's hands-and her body. Like property. Like ... like slaves. There were no tears now from the pretty blonde's green eyes. What was the use of tears? It was over. Over and done.