Sinners (16 page)

‘Not at all. In fact I’m quite used to the fact that Clay will go to bed with any silly little tart that gives him the green light.’

Dindi’s eyes narrowed.

‘Well, bye bye, dear. I do hope we’ll all get together soon.’

‘Bye bye, Natalie dear.’ Furious, Dindi put on her clothes and called to the salesgirl. ‘For Christ’s sake hurry up with my things, I haven’t got all day.’

*    *    *

‘Where have you been?’ Charlie didn’t relish playing the jealous husband, but having made excuses to Serafina all day about Dindi’s absence, he was in a mild fury.

‘Shopping. I get so bored just sitting around.’

‘But you knew my mother was arriving today. You knew I’d only gone to the airport.’

She looked sulky. ‘I guess I forgot.’

‘I guess you did.’ Angrily he marched to the window and stared out. Cindy and Sean were splashing in the pool. Serafina was upstairs, taking a nap. ‘Look, if you want the part so badly, it’s yours,’ he blurted.

Her face lit up. ‘Honestly, baby? That’s marvie. I’ll be terrific in it, you won’t be sorry.’ She rushed over to him and hugged him from behind, rubbing herself against him.

He turned round and she slid her hands under his shirt.

‘I didn’t want to marry an actress,’ he remarked.

Her hands wriggled their way under the waistband of his trousers and grabbed hold of him. She felt him harden and sank to her knees.

‘Not here, Dindi,’ he muttered.

‘Why not? We’re married, aren’t we?’

*    *    *

‘The secret of eternal youth, my dear, is keeping busy,’ Serafina announced at dinner. ‘I myself have never been idle.’

‘I can believe that,’ Dindi replied, quite exhausted at just watching Serafina darting off to the kitchen every five minutes.

‘When I was in the theatre, I was known affectionately backstage as Miss Vitality.’

‘Really?’ Dindi looked interested. Since Charlie had told her she had the part in
Roundabout
she had gone out of her way to charm Serafina and his rotten kids.

‘Yes, Miss Vitality. Oh dear me, those were the days. I can remember the line of gentlemen friends waiting at the stage door, all well-to-do and handsome, and then I met Charlie’s father – God rest his soul – a fine man. We had a wonderful life together.’

Charlie looked at his mother in surprise. She must be getting old. His old man had been a right bastard and had walked out on her. A fine life indeed.

‘Has Charlie told you of his early days?’

‘Nope.’ Dindi shook her head. ‘I guess he was figuring you would.’ She stifled a yawn and smiled brightly. How she longed to say ‘Has anyone ever told you you’re an old bore?’

The phone rang and Charlie reached for the dining-table extension. When he hung up he said, ‘Clay and Natalie are going to drop by for coffee.’

‘That’s nice,’ Serafina said. ‘Anyone else?’

Charlie knew she was wondering if he had picked out any potential ‘friends’ for her. When he had first asked her to come to Hollywood with the children she had wanted to bring Archie, her current beau. But Charlie couldn’t stand Archie, so he had said that Serafina would meet plenty of more interesting men if she came on her own. It was a problem fixing up one’s mother. Not that she liked young men, she preferred them older than herself, but in Hollywood finding an older man prepared to take on a nearly seventy-year-old woman was impossible. Hollywood was full of young available women. It was a problem Charlie had decided to ignore, and when Serafina got too fidgety he would send for Archie.

‘Er, I don’t think so. By the way, I thought perhaps next weekend we might fly up to Las Vegas. Would you like that?’

Serafina nodded. She didn’t plan to spend her holiday closeted up in Charlie’s house. She was still an attractive woman, she must get out and be seen. Just because Charlie was jealous of introducing her to men, fancy, her own son jealous. Well it was understandable really.

‘I am sixty-three years of age,’ she announced to Dindi, cleverly deducting six years, ‘and I feel like a girl.’

‘You look wonderful,’ Dindi murmured, thinking she might look a bit better if she cleaned off all that terrible theatrical make-up and false eyelashes at her age! Really!

‘Yes, people find it hard to believe, but it’s the truth. And you my dear, how old are you?’ Serafina fixed her with a penetrating stare as if daring her to lie.

‘Twenty,’ replied Dindi, smiling sweetly and knocking off three years. If the old bitch could lie about her age so could she.

‘Oh, twenty,’ Serafina fluttered. ‘Twenty. In my day girls of twenty—’

‘Did I ever show you the pictures I have of Serafina when she was twenty?’ Charlie interrupted.

‘No,’ replied Dindi, thinking, so this is how one spends one’s evening when married to a movie star.

‘I’ll have to show you. She was a real knockout, weren’t you, love?’ He put his arm around his mother.

She smiled, and Charlie thought – I must get her to a good dentist while she’s here.

‘Do you remember the good old days, Charlie son?’

Yes, he remembered. The fading old theatres, stale smells and Serafina’s boyfriends.

‘Those were the days.’ A tear sprang to her eyes. ‘Those were the good times. Just your father, you and me.’

What good times? Charlie thought. Stuck outside a pub in some asshole of a town with a packet of crisps and a lemonade while Serafina and her latest ‘beau’ lived it up. Anyway – so what. No good looking back. He loved Serafina. She was his mother. She had kept him with her when he was a boy, and that was the main thing.

‘I always knew Charlie would be a star,’ Serafina said sharply. ‘I encouraged him in everything he wanted to do. He’s got my vitality and drive. I could have been a star myself, but I gave it all up to look after him.’

Dindi yawned openly. People’s pasts were a bore. As far as she was concerned, Charlie was a big movie star, and before that she didn’t want to know.

‘Tired?’ Serafina questioned.

‘Yes,’ Dindi replied, ‘I had a job to do this afternoon that tired me out.’ She shot a secret smile at Charlie.

He smiled back. She looked so pretty and innocent. He could hardly believe that she was the same girl who had made love to him earlier.

‘You pop on up to bed, love, if you like,’ he said. ‘Serafina won’t mind, and I’ll explain to the Allens.’

‘Are you sure, darling? I
would
like to.’ She wanted to go upstairs and try on her new clothes and read the script of
Roundabout
now that she had the part.

‘You go ahead love, see you later.’ He watched her say goodnight to Serafina, then peck him on the cheek. She had such a compact, sexy body. It made him feel good to think that she was all his. It might not be such a bad idea having her in the movie after all. Other men could look but not touch. Let the world see what Charlie Brick had.

Acapulco was hot. After the first day’s shooting in the mountains, Sunday was a wreck, the heat was impossible.

She had been working hard, surrounded by a mostly Mexican crew, and three Americans – the director, Woody, the cameraman, Mike, and the continuity girl, Marisa.

Woody and Marisa were having an affair. He was a pleasant, thirtyish man whom Steve Magnum had picked personally. He had not directed a movie before, only television. Marisa was twenty-four and pretty.

Sunday liked them both. As a director Woody was quiet, considerate and extremely encouraging. There was a great difference between him and Abe Stein. Abe represented the old-style Hollywood. Woody the new.

Upon arrival, she had received a huge basket of flowers from Steve, with a note saying ‘Welcome’. Apart from that, no word from him at all.

‘You had your chance and blew it,’ Carey said. ‘He’s probably shacked up in that mansion of his with a beautiful Mexican virgin.’

‘I hope he is,’ Sunday replied. She was secretly glad. Now that she had reached the stage of deciding to get involved, there was no need to.

For a week she and Carey had done nothing but loaf around, sunbathing and swimming.

The day before she started work, Carey left, saying, ‘Well, I guess it’s decision time.’

She found it lonely with Carey gone. The Las Brisas Hilton Hotel was very beautiful, but somehow Sunday felt it was the sort of place one should be with a man.

She spent a quiet evening on her own, sending out for food, and studying her script. The next day Steve was due to appear for a scene in the mountains where he was supposed to rescue her. In the script she had escaped after being kidnapped. It was also a love scene, and she looked forward to it with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty.

*    *    *

‘Ha!’ Marisa exclaimed. ‘How about that bundle of goodies?’ She nudged Sunday, who was sitting in the canvas chair next to her, reading a book.

Steve Magnum was approaching accompanied by a young curvy Mexican girl, with long black hair flowing to her waist and green hungry eyes.

‘Hello, ladies.’ Steve waved casually from a distance, and patting the young girl on the bottom, shoved her towards them. ‘Keep an eye on Enchilada for me, Marisa baby.’ He then went off in a huddle with Woody.

‘That man!’ Marisa said, shaking her head and laughing. ‘He’s too much!’

The girl, nicknamed Enchilada, came over with sulky suspicious eyes.

‘Hi,’ Marisa said, ‘grab a chair and make yourself at home, it’s going to be a long hard day. I’m Marisa and this is Sunday Simmons.’

The girl nodded briefly and sat in a chair several yards away. She then turned to stare at Steve and Woody.

‘Friendly,’ Marisa remarked. ‘Sunday, I think they’re going to be ready soon. You want to get dressed, I’ll send wardrobe in to you.’

‘Good idea.’ It was eleven in the morning and Sunday was becoming bored just sitting around. The Mexicans seemed to take much longer to get started than the Americans. She had arrived at eight, spent two hours in make-up and hairdressing, and then had a long wait. Steve had now disappeared into the make-up caravan, so perhaps they would start soon.

In the scene she was wearing white trousers and a skimpy white top. A matching jacket was around her shoulders. She was supposed to appear dishevelled and distraught.

‘You look great,’ Steve said, when they were in front of the camera. ‘How do you like Acapulco?’

‘It’s nice.’ She smiled at him with her eyes. ‘Thank you for the flowers.’

‘You’re always thanking me for flowers. How about sending some?’

They both laughed while Enchilada glowered from the sidelines.

‘Took myself a little insurance,’ he said.

‘Insurance?’

‘Against you, baby – against you. My little Mexican tomato is only sixteen, so I guess that should keep my greedy hands from grabbing you. That’s the way you want it, isn’t it?’

She just smiled. She wasn’t sure at all that that was the way she wanted it. Steve was magnetically attractive, and it had been a long time between men.

Woody came over and chatted to them about the scene.

The rest of the morning passed quickly. Steve and Sunday worked well together and they finished three short scenes with hardly any retakes.

When the lunch break came, Steve grabbed Enchilada and took off in his helicopter. Sunday had her lunch with the rest of the crew from a mobile canteen. She sat with Woody and Marisa. She was beginning to be a little piqued by Steve’s apparent uninterest.

The first scene after lunch was the love scene. It started with Steve pulling off her jacket, laying it on the ground and pushing her down on it. In the film she was supposed to fight him, struggle, and then submit.

‘Look,’ Woody explained, ‘when you’re on the ground I want him to pull your top down. That’s when I want you to lie very still and just stare at him with those eyes of yours.’

‘How far down?’ Sunday asked suspiciously.

‘Well, off, sweetheart. The camera won’t see anything, Steve will be covering you.’

‘In that case my top won’t have to come right off.’

Woody laughed. ‘I’m not looking for a free show, but sure the top will have to come off. When I say the camera won’t see anything, I mean we’re not going to pan in for a great close-up on your bosom. But it’s quite obvious that you can’t have the top down a little; it will look messy and awkward. He’s got to get it off and throw it out of shot. Then you’ll be in an embrace with him, so all we’re going to see is arms and sides and things.’

‘Woody, I have a clause in my contract that says no nude scenes. Didn’t you know?’

‘No, I didn’t,’ he, snapped. ‘Christ, you make me feel like a dirty-minded little schoolboy trying to glimpse a lady’s boobs. I’m a director and I hope a good one, and in these days of truth and realism you’re going to look mighty silly clutching a top around you to preserve a little old-fashioned modesty.’ His tone changed, becoming persuasive and soft. ‘Trust me, honey. I know what’s going to look right.’

She sighed. ‘I don’t understand what difference there is whether I keep the top on or not.’

‘There, you see,’ he was triumphant,
‘you
don’t understand the difference, but I do. So please believe I’m right.’

‘I had a horrible experience with Abe Stein on—’

‘I am
not
Abe Stein. Well send everyone who’s not needed home. OK, sweetheart, OK?’

‘If you really think it’s necessary.’

‘I really think.’

She wished that Carey were still there. Why was there this obsession with nudity? Why didn’t she have the strength to stick to her decision? Was it because she liked and trusted Woody? Or did she know in her own mind that the scene would be more realistic the way he wanted it.

Steve returned in his helicopter, Enchilada sulky by his side.

Woody was getting rid of crew members whose presence was not strictly necessary.

Marisa entered Sunday’s caravan and offered her a stick of gum. ‘Believe me,’ she said, ‘I’d be the first one to yell if it wasn’t right for the scene. Do you think I want my boyfriend getting an eyeful of what I’m sure are a beautiful pair?’

*    *    *

They rehearsed the scene first.

Steve grabbed her from behind, snatched the jacket off her shoulders and forced her down, pinning her arms to her side. Then he kissed her.