Valley of the Dolls by Jacqueline Susann
He handed her the drink. “Not a bit. But you must be feeling some nerves. Everything is so new . . . I’m new . . . sex is new . . .” He sat beside her and stroked her hair gently.
She snuggled against him. “I feel closer to you than I’ve ever felt to anyone in my life. I want to know everything about you . . . I don’t want us to have any secrets. We’re one, Lyon, part of one another. I belong to you.”
He moved away and sipped his drink thoughtfully. “I wonder if I can measure up to that kind of love, Anne. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You couldn’t hurt me, Lyon. You’ve given me so much already. If nothing more ever happened after today, I’d still be grateful for the two most wonderful days of my life.”
He smiled gently. Then he took her hand and patted the finger with the large ring. “Aren’t we forgetting something?”
“That’s over. I’m returning the ring.”
“Anne . . . the way I feel about you . . . it’s very real. I want you to know that. But I’ve given all I might ever be able to give you. I—”
“And it’s enough! It’s all I want—your love. I don’t love Allen. I never have. I never really intended to marry him. It just happened so fast and I was carried along. But even if you hadn’t happened, I could never have gone through with it.”
“I’d like to believe you, Anne. My conscience would be easier.”
“Your conscience? Lyon, don’t you love me?”
He looked into space as if searching for an answer. He saw the quick tears spring to her eyes. “Anne!” He grabbed her shoulders. “Yes, yes, I do love you. I love you and want you. But your kind of love frightens me—and I wonder if my love will be enough for you.”
She closed her eyes in relief. “Oh, Lyon, you scared me. Of course you can’t love me like I love you. I don’t expect it. No one could love anyone that much.” She looked at him closely. “Just love me, that’s all I ask. Love me as much as you can. And let me love you.”
She woke up in his arms the following day. She lay there, not moving, looking at his strong profile. He was beautiful in sleep. Sex had been painful again, but she had reveled in the satisfaction she had given him. And for the first time she felt she belonged to someone. All the things she had never even discussed with girls—things that seemed too personal to talk about, even with Neely, she had talked about openly and freely with Lyon. The rhythm system, all the precautions . . .
She eased herself out of his arms and went into the kitchen. She had coffee going and eggs in a pan before she looked at a clock. It was after noon.
He was awake when she placed the eggs on the table. He praised her cooking—the eggs were perfect, the coffee a work of art. After breakfast he settled down with the Times while she showered.
He looked up in surprise when she appeared, fully dressed, her coat on her arm.
“Walking out on me?” He pulled her down on the couch. “You are the most fleeting romance I’ve ever had.” He kissed her neck, and she felt herself go limp. She forced herself to pull away.
“Lyon, I can’t go to the office tomorrow in the same clothes. I need a change of stockings . . . underwear . . . I’ve got to get home.”
He looked at his watch. “Fair enough. I’ll pick you up at seven. We’ll have dinner. And be prepared to go to the office from here.”
She kissed him gratefully. She had been momentarily frightened that he wouldn’t ask her to return. She took the luxury of grabbing a cab; it was already three o’clock, and she had so much to do before seven.
The moment she walked into her room, the world closed in on her. There was a large vase of flowers on the bureau. The card was from Allen. Hope you missed me like I missed you. Call me the second you get in. I love you. Allen.
Until Friday, this room had known another life. Now she felt like a stranger. She had shed the room like she had shed Lawrenceville. She looked at the roses. It couldn’t be put off; she was going to Philadelphia tomorrow with Lyon, and Allen expected to go—and Gino!
She dialed Allen, but stopped halfway and hung up. Maybe she could send a wire. But she had to return the ring. It hung lifelessly and heavily on one side of her finger.
She dialed again. He answered on the second ring. “Well, how was New Haven and your girl friend, Old Ironsides?”
“The show is a hit.”
“I know. Gino ran into some people at Morocco last night who had been to New Haven.”
“How was Morocco?”
“I wasn’t there. Remember me? I’m an engaged man. I sat home both nights with a good book, waiting for my girl to get back.”
“Allen . . . Allen, I’ve got something to tell you.” She rushed on, knowing it had to come in a burst or she’d lose her nerve. “Allen, I’m not your girl and I’m not engaged to you and I want to give back the ring.”
There was a long silence. Then he said, “Anne, I’ll be right over.”
“No, Allen . . . I’ll meet you somewhere . . . I’ll give you back the ring.”
“I don’t want the ring. I want to talk to you.”
“But there’s nothing to talk about.”
“There isn’t? Good God, Anne, for three months I’ve been in love with you. Now you want to wash the whole thing up with a phone call. What happened? Did someone talk against me in New Haven? Look, I’ve done a lot of crazy things in the past. Sometimes I wasn’t a very nice guy—but that was before I met you. You can’t hold anything I did then against me now. Nothing meant anything until you came along. Someone’s scared you off me and I’m going to see you and find out. I won’t give up just like this. I have a right to present my side.”
“Allen, no one spoke against you in New Haven. And talking to me won’t change things.”
“I’ll be right over.”
“Allen, don’t come!” She shrieked it. “I’m in love!”
This time the silence was even longer. Finally she said hesitantly, “Allen? Do you understand?”
“Who is he?”
“Lyon Burke.”
His laugh was unpleasant. “You mean the homeless cockney who’s in my old apartment? Well . . . glad to have provided you with a decent honeymoon cottage.”
“Allen, it just happened.”
“Sure, just like that. And it just happened you fell out of love with me.”
“I never told you I loved you. Remember that. You were the one who insisted on being engaged.”
“Okay, Anne. Good luck.”
“How do I get the ring back to you?”
“I’m not worried about it. Why are you?”
“But I want you to have it back.”
“You mean Lyon Burke gets offended seeing it on your finger. Or has he already replaced it? From what I’ve heard about him, the only ring you’ll get is one through your nose.”
“Allen, let’s not part this way.”
“What do you want? Shall I send you a singing telegram? Boy, this is really the prize. The first time in my life I treat a girl on the level and I get it in the end! But I’ll see you around. With Lyon Burke it will be a long, long walk to the altar.”
“Please, Allen . . . may I see you at lunch tomorrow and return the ring?”
“No, my little iceberg, keep it.”
“What?”
“Keep it! You bitch . . . I don’t need the ring. I can buy a lot of them. But you’re going to need it. It’s very hockable. Or better yet, wear it! Let it cut into your finger every time some guy screws you like you’ve screwed me. I have a hunch Lyon Burke will be the first!” The receiver slammed in her ear.
She dialed him back immediately. “Allen, I know you’re furious at me—and the things you’ve said, you’ve said in anger. I want us to remain friends.”
“I like men for friends,” he said coldly.
“All right, but I can’t keep the ring.”
“If that’s what you called about, forget it!”
“Allen, wait!” She knew he was going to hang up. “I want to remind y
“You mean that’s still on with us?” There was a sudden tinge of hope in his voice.
“Well, not with us. I can’t go with you now. But there’s no reason for Gino not to go. Helen is expecting him.”
“Oh, no! You must be kidding!” His laugh was almost a groan.
“Why? Helen’s reserved a room for him. He operates independently of you. I see no reason for Helen to be disappointed because of us.”
“You don’t? Well, now I’ve heard everything. Do you think Gino wanted to go? Do you think it’s a thrill for him to wrestle with Old Ironsides?”
“Stop calling Helen that! She’s darned attractive, and your father should be thrilled that she wants to be with him. She’s a big star and—”
“And a big brassy bore! My father can have any girl in town. This is a man’s world—women only own it when they’re very young. You’ll find that out some fine day. And your Helen Lawson may be the biggest star on Broadway, but she’s still a bloated, loud-mouthed broad the moment she steps off stage. Sure, he was coming tomorrow . . . and don’t think he didn’t try and get out of it. But I forced him. Isn’t that a laugh? I made him do it for you. And I spent all weekend trying to figure out how to keep him there overnight. He agreed to come but swore he was driving back right after the show. I finally said it would be like a wedding present to me if he’d give in to Helen, just for the night. Can you imagine that? A guy compromising his own father just to please his girl! All weekend I’ve been working on Gino. And all weekend you’ve been . . .” He stopped; his voice had almost broken. “Well, at least one good thing has come out of it. Gino is spared. And now I’m tossing the ball to you—and to Lyon Burke. Let his father hump your girl friend!” The receiver clicked.
The Philadelphia opening of Hit the Sky was a much smoother and glossier version of the New Haven premiere. Anne was amazed at the changes that had been accomplished in such a short time. She sat beside Lyon, identifying with the cast rather than the audience. He held her hand, and she wondered if he had noticed the absence of the large diamond. It was resting in a plain manila envelope in her new safe-deposit box. It had seemed cruel leaving the large solitaire all alone in that cold tin box. It had seemed to glitter in outraged anger, as if it were protesting its uncalled-for rejection.
Lyon’s whisper snapped her thoughts back to the stage. It was Neely’s big moment. The ballad had been reinstated. Anne sat on the edge of her seat when Neely began to sing. It was a completely different interpretation. Terry King in her slinky red satin dress had seemed disenchanted and sultry. Neely in a blue dress with a Peter Pan collar was haunting, forlorn and alone. There was a vibrant wail to her voice. Now it was a torch song, very different and more plaintive. She received a tremendous ovation.
Several times during the show Anne glanced nervously at the three empty seats in the fourth row. Helen had reserved those seats. And she was supposed to be sitting there, between Allen and Gino. She had not broken the news to Helen. She felt it might hurt her performance.
The curtain came down at eleven-fifteen. There was no doubt of the show’s success. Even Henry Bellamy’s usual look of harassment had evaporated. He passed Lyon and Anne as they came backstage. “The party will be at the Warwick.”
Lyon looked at his watch. “You don’t really care about going, do you?”
She hadn’t thought about it. She had assumed Henry had reserved rooms for them at the hotel. They had come to the theatre directly from the train. She had an oversized handbag in which she had crammed a nightgown and a toothbrush. She suddenly realized Lyon was without his usual attaché case.
“If we make a fast dash backstage and congratulate Helen and Neely, we can catch the twelve-twenty-five back to New York.”
“Whatever you say, Lyon.”
“I think I’d rather have my drink in the club car with you. We both need one good night’s sleep, and this party is bound to last way into the morning.”
They elbowed their way through the crowd cluttering the hallways of the dressing rooms. Anne went directly to Neely’s room. She was standing outside the door, surrounded by a few newspapermen. Members of the cast stopped by, offering congratulations. Mel stood at her side, silent and beaming with pride.
Anne embraced her. “Neely, you were wonderful!”
“Was I really? Honest? It’ll be even better after I get used to it. And these were makeshift costumes. I’m getting a new set for New York.”
Lyon offered his congratulations. Neely looked startled. “Where’s Allen?”
“I’ll tell you some other time,” Anne said quietly.
“Nothing’s wrong, is it?” Neely insisted. “Gosh, Helen was like a school girl because Gino was out front tonight. And you’re supposed to be with Allen.”
Anne felt herself coloring. Neely’s clear voice carried halfway down the hall.
“Allen isn’t here,” Anne said through her teeth.
“That’s obvious,” Neely said. “Hey—the ring!” She grabbed Anne’s hand. “Where’s the ring?”
“Neely, we’ll talk about it another time. I’ve got to go down and congratulate Helen.”
“If Gino isn’t here, you better get out of town fast.”
They pushed their way through the crowd into Helen’s dressing room. Helen broke away from several people and came toward Anne with her arms outstretched. “Hi!” she said merrily. Then her eyes went past Anne expectantly. When she saw Lyon she looked at Anne questioningly. “Where is everybody?”
“They didn’t come.”
“What?”
“It’s a long story, Helen.”
“That sonofabitch! What happened?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
“It had better be good. Come on inside while I change and tell me.”
“Helen . . . we’re—Lyon and I—we’re taking the twelve-twenty-five back to New York.”
“You’re kidding!”
Anne shook her head mutely.
“You mean you’re not coming to the party?”
“I have to be in the office tomorrow, Helen.”
“Balls! If I say I want you here, then that’s it! It’s the least Henry can do for me. He went back tonight, so you stay.” Then, turning to everyone in the room, she shouted, “Hey, the party’s at the Warwick. You’ll have to scram now so I can change.”
There was the usual hum of good-bys mingled with more congratulations.
When they were alone, Helen turned to Anne and Lyon. “Lyon, you wait in the hall. Anne can sit here while I change.”
He looked at his watch. “We’d best be leaving, Anne, if we want to catch the last decent train.”
“Oh, swell! Henry doesn’t even leave you as a replacement? Next thing I know he’ll be sending me that owl-faced George Bellows. He’s gonna hear from me! Who in hell is going to escort me to the party?”
“Why didn’t Henry stay?” Anne asked.
“Because I told him Gino would be here,” Helen snarled. “I wanna hear about that. What in hell happened?”
Lyon glanced at his watch again. “I’ll hail us a cab, Anne.” He smiled briefly at Helen and left the room.
“Boy, am I getting stood up all around tonight,” Helen said. She sat at the dressing table and began powdering down her makeup.
“Helen, the show was just great tonight,” Anne said. “I’m sorry I have to leave now, but Lyon wants to make that train. . . .”
“Then let him, for Chrissake. What’s that got to do with you?”
Anne searched for an excuse. “I have no hotel reservation.”
“So what? I have a suite with two beds. You can stay with me.”
“But I came with Lyon.” She looked longingly toward the door.
Helen’s eyes widened. “Oh, I get it. Still playing footsies with Lyon. Jesus, you’re like all the rest. You, the one girl who had class, who I cared about—my buddy-buddy—running out on me. But go on. Hell, th
“Helen, I am your friend. Maybe there’s a later train. Let me talk to Lyon . . .”
“Nah, anything after the twelve-twenty-five is a milk train.” Helen began to blot at her running mascara. “But go on. I was crazy to expect you to be different.”
“Wait . . . let me talk to Lyon.” She dashed out of the room.
Lyon was holding a cab. She rushed to him. “Lyon, we can’t leave her alone. She feels so hurt.”
He stared at her. “Anne, nothing can hurt Helen.”
“You don’t understand her. She was crying. She feels so alone on her opening night.”
“Helen’s tears come easily. And go quickly. Look, Anne, the Helen Lawsons of this world create their own loneliness.”
“But we can’t do this to her.”
“We owe Helen nothing other than a business loyalty. Simple things like the crucifixion of Terry King. That she understands—and demands. But there is nothing in my contract that states I must escort her to parties.”
“But Lyon, she’s my friend.”
“And you choose to remain?”
“I feel we should . . .”
He smiled. “Okay. Good-by, friend,” he said lightly. Then he jumped into the cab.
At first she couldn’t believe it. But the cab was gone. She didn’t know whether to be angry or frightened. Had she let Lyon down? Or had he let her down? If she had gone with him, she certainly would have let Helen down. God knows she had let Allen down. She suddenly felt tears coming to her eyes. Everything seemed to be crumbling around her. She was hurting everyone—most of all herself.
The party at the Warwick was a repetition of the party in New Haven, except for Neely’s appearance as a full-fledged principal. There were more people from New York, different newspapermen—and Helen, drinking heavily, was still every inch the hearty, good-natured star. There had been people in the dressing room when Anne had returned, and she had not been able to explain about Gino. So she sat through the festivities, watching, feeling outside of everything, worrying about Lyon—and feeling numb. At two in the morning, when she saw Neely and Mel steal away, she felt a stab of envy. Lyon would be just arriving in New York now. She wondered if he was angry—or did he feel miserable, too?