Valley of the Dolls by Jacqueline Susann
“If Lyon wants to go it’s all right,” Anne said.
“You put it that way and you know damn well he won’t,” Neely snapped.
“No, Neely, I mean it. It will be all right with me.”
“It has to be more than all right or he won’t go. You’ve got to make him go. Otherwise, I just won’t play the date. I can always get laryngitis.”
Lyon refused to leave Anne. And he deeply resented Neely’s blackmail tactics. “No fat little pig is going to run our lives,” he said angrily. “She may be important to the office, but not quite that important.”
“But you’re on the verge of getting several big stars,” Anne argued. George told me things are really popping. But they’d fall through if Neely left the office—and she could. She could break her contract by saying you refused her personal representation when she most needed it.”
“Then she’s free to leave. If George and I have to pin our entire future on this bag of blubber then we really haven’t much faith in ourselves. I don’t know about George, but I’m getting damn tired of hearing how we need Neely to get the others. Maybe he doesn’t believe he has anything to offer a client, but Henry Bellamy believed in me enough to offer me the loan. Henry Bellamy would never have let a Neely O’Hara dictate his life.”
“Helen Lawson did her share,” Anne reminded him.
“He was in love with Helen. That made the difference. We resurrected Neely. That should be enough for the trade. And Henry’s belief in me is enough for me to chance letting Neely go. I’ll not be dependent on anyone.”
The following day Lyon came home earlier than usual. His eyes were cold with anger. He took off his coat and stared at Anne peculiarly. She pulled her bulky frame out of the club chair and started to mix a drink. She sensed some crisis . . . something must have gone wrong at the office. He took the drink silently.
“Was George difficult?” she asked.
He sat down and took a long swallow. Then he looked at her intently. “Tell me, Anne, do you think I should go to California with Neely?”
She hesitated. It suddenly seemed to be a loaded question. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. “I don’t expect the baby until the middle of January. Of course, I don’t want to be without you on Christmas, but I’m trying to be objective. . . .”
“Tell me what to do, Anne,” he said in that same strange tone.
“It’s for you to decide,” she answered. “I’ll understand, whatever the decision is.”
“No, you decide. You’ve decided everything else. Tell me, what will our baby weigh? I know it will be a girl, because you decided that. Is there anything you don’t control?”
“Lyon, what are you talking about?”
“You! And the Bellamy, Bellows and Burke Agency. God, I must be the laughingstock of this town. I was bought by Anne Welles. I suppose everyone knows but me. I just found out—Neely told me.”
“Neely? How could she know?” Anne was frightened. She had never seen this look on Lyon’s face.
“I know, it was supposed to be a secret. Henry explained. But it would have come out soon anyway. All those weekly checks I’ve been sending Henry have been endorsed by Henry and sent to you. They’d show up in the tax returns.”
“But how did Neely find out?”
“Henry told her. It seems she went to him and told him how things were, hoping he’d convince you to let me travel with her. And that’s when Henry gave it away. He said he was sure you’d want me to do whatever was best for the business, since it was your money at stake. Neely couldn’t wait to rush to the office to tell me. Of course, George put on the proper act, pretended he was surprised. But everyone has known all along, haven’t they?”
“Lyon, no one has known. Henry shouldn’t have told Neely. I was going to tell you when the time came. I only did it because I loved you, to keep you from going back to England.”
“And you accomplished it. You can buy what you want! Is that what you learned from Kevin Gillmore? Everything has a price—just find out the amount.”
“But my money is your money.” She fought her panic. “I only did it because I loved you. I wanted to marry you and have your baby—can’t you understand?”
“No. I only understand that George stood there with a smirk and said, ’Cheer up, Lyon, we’re in the same boat—our wives own the business.’ But I’m not George Bellows. And by God from now on the business will always come first. Your money is at stake, and I’ll get it back for you—every cent. But something more important than money is at stake now—my pride and self-respect. There’s only one way to get it back—by doubling your goddam investment.”
“Lyon!” She threw her arms around him, but he remained stiff and unyielding. “I did it out of love. Do you understand?”
“I understand only one thing—the Bellamy, Bellows and Burke Agency is going to be the biggest agency in town . . . in the world! You bought it for me, my girl, and you’re going to get your money’s worth. I’ll show you. And the first thing I do is book reservations to take our pig of a star to Los Angeles. Christmas be damned—full speed ahead!”
1963
Jennifer Burke was born New Year’s Day. She burst into the world two weeks ahead of schedule and gave Anne and the doctor quite a frantic New Year’s Eve. She took fifteen hours to make her entrance, but when she finally arrived, red and squalling, Anne saw no wrinkles or wizened newborn face—she saw only the miracle and beauty of the little life she had borne, and her strength surged back at the wonder of it all.
She had been lonely with Lyon gone. Although he called every day from California, the rift was there. She felt it in his casual terms of endearment. It stood between them like a steel gate. But when the baby came, the gate opened. As she came out of the anesthetic haze he phoned, and she said, almost apologetically, “It is a girl . . .” He laughed, heartily. “I’m delighted! I’m much too old to learn to play football with a son. I’ll have more fun teaching a teen-aged daughter how to dance.”
He called her two and three times a day while she was in the hospital. Neely’s triumph in Los Angeles had been record-breaking, and now she was ready to go on to San Francisco. Would Anne mind dreadfully? It meant three more weeks away.
“Of course not,” she said quickly. She did not want to chance reviving any discussion of the firm or Neely’s work. Not now, when everything was wonderful again. “Jennifer Burke will be an old lady by then, but I’ll try to keep your memory alive,” she teased.
“George said he’d take some Polaroid pictures of her,” Lyon said. “Send them to me as soon as they dry.”
“I’ve just sent the one they took at the hospital. She looks like a little old gnome. But really, she’s going to be a beauty, Lyon. She has dark hair—what there is of it.”
Lyon flew into town at the end of the month. Little Jennifer weighed nine pounds and had lost her wrinkles. She was all pink and white, and he was delighted with her. He smiled gently as he studied the tiny face. “I’m terribly afraid she resembles me,” he said with a frown. “Anne, you should have concentrated harder. I wanted a carbon copy of you.”
“I did concentrate, and it worked. I wanted her to look exactly like you.”
He had rushed straight from the airport to the apartment to see her and the baby. Now he had to go to the office. “We’ll celebrate the heiress’s arrival tonight at dinner,” he promised.
That night Miss Cuzins, the baby’s nurse, helped her squeeze into a waist nipper. It was uncomfortable, but after so many months of being ungainly, she wanted Lyon to see her slim and chic again. Not too bad, she thought, studying her figure in the mirror. Actually her weight had returned to normal; it was just her waistline that was off, and the nipper did the trick. After all, it was only a month. But thank God she would finally be able to go to bed with Lyon that night. It had been so long—not since her seventh month. Poor Lyon. The doctor had warned her there might be some pain at first, but it didn’t matter. To hold Lyon in her arms agai
His secretary called at six. Lyon was at a screening; would she meet him at seven o’clock at Danny’s Hideaway? She hung up, slightly disappointed. She had envisioned cocktails together at home, then a quiet dinner somewhere off the beaten track, where they wouldn’t run into everyone they knew. She liked Danny’s, but it meant everyone stopping by the table to talk about business. Normally she didn’t mind shop talk, but tonight was to be special.
She sat at a table near the bar and waited. It was a quarter to eight and she was on her second Scotch when she finally saw Lyon. He was with two of his assistants and Bill Mack, a television director.
He rushed to her and kissed her lightly. “Forgive me, please. We were looking at a tape at N.B.C., and the bloody thing split and had to be rerun. Oh, darling, you remember Jim Handly and Bud Hoff,” he said as he brought the two young men over to the table. “And of course you know Bill.”
They sat at a large table and talked about the tape they had seen, a format of a new situation comedy show. From the conversation, Anne deduced that Bill Mack owned it and that he wanted to sign with The Three B’s, as Bellamy, Bellows and Burke was beginning to be known. He wanted them to sell the package. Lyon was enthusiastic. He was sure he could interest C.B.S. or A.B.C., and perhaps redo it with Joey Kling in the lead. Joey had just signed with the office. He was the new comedian of the year.
“He’s going to be at the Palladium with Neely,” Lyon explained. “As a matter of fact, he should be here any second. I told him to pick me up.”
“Pick you up?” Anne turned in surprise.
“Oh, my angel,” he said with genuine concern. “This all happened three hours ago. Joey is going to Washington to break in his act.”
“But you don’t have to go, do you?”
“Don’t I ever! Neely thinks she’s doing a one-woman show there tomorrow night. I have to explain how important it is for Joey to share the bill with her.”
“I don’t envy you,” Bud Hoff said.
Lyon smiled. “Neely knows there will be other acts on the bill with her at the Palladium, but she hasn’t shared the bill with anyone in the States. So far it’s been a one-woman show. But when I explain that we’ve just signed Joey . . . Neely’s really a good sort, if you explain things right.”
He was leaving tonight! The realization kept spinning through her head. He was leaving tonight!
“When will you be back?” she asked.
“In two weeks. I’ll phone first thing in the morning. Perhaps you could fly down over the weekend. Could little Jen spare you?”
“Must you go tonight, Lyon?”
“I must. I hadn’t planned to leave until tomorrow. But I have to get the publicity set on Joey, and I’d best be on hand early tomorrow morning.”
He had only planned to stay in town one night!
Joey Kling suddenly poked his head in the door. Lyon waved. “I’ve got the car waiting,” Joey called out. “And we’re double-parked.”
Lyon sprang up. “Sign the tab to the office, Bud. Good night, my angel—I’ll phone you tomorrow. Oh Bud, you will see Anne home, won’t you?”
She didn’t go to Washington over the weekend. Miss Cuzins had said it would be fine, of course she could go. But Lyon never brought it up. And on Friday he merely said, “I’ll ring you tomorrow, same time.”
“Why don’t you just come out and ask what’s wrong?” Henry said.
Anne stared into her coffee cup as if expecting some miraculous answer to be revealed in its dregs. “Because basically nothing is wrong,” she answered. “There’s just this intangible difference.”
Henry Bellamy sighed. Anne looked pale and much too thin. She had sounded desperate when she demanded he take her to dinner. He was also afraid of the questions she would put to him.
“Henry, the baby is three months old. Lyon has spent exactly four days with her. One between California and Washington, and three between Washington and London. He’s been in London a month now. Neely’s a smash. I know she’s being held over, but there’s no reason for him to remain.”
“What does George say?”
She smiled. “The same old line. That Neely won’t stay there alone. That Lyon is like a god to her, the only one she’ll listen to. That she’s bringing big money into the office.”
Henry’s smile was sad. “This is the story of being a successful manager. The wife always suffers.”
“But they’ve gotten several big stars now. The office is doing great. How long do they have to play wet nurse to Neely? She seems all right now. I think she can stand on her own two feet.”
“They’re new in the business, Anne. Everyone’s watching them. George never was a live wire. Oh, he’s a hell of a businessman, but Lyon is the personality boy. And there will always be a Neely or some star to wet-nurse. You might as well face up to it.”
“You mean I go through life like this?”
“It gets easier as time goes along,” he said.
“Not for me it won’t!”
He was silent for a moment, then he said, “Anne, you can’t have everything. I’ve seen your apartment. A layout like that costs money. And Lyon is one of those guys who must pay his own way.”
“But Henry—why doesn’t he ask me to join him in London?”
Henry studied his cuticle. “You’ve never been abroad, Anne. Perhaps he feels he’d like to be able to show you around. But he’s trapped in the theatre all the time. It wouldn’t be much fun for you hanging around like that.”
“If he explained it that way I’d understand. And I’d go along with it. I could sightsee . . . catch other shows. As long as I saw him a little.”
“Let it be. He should return any day now.”
“He’ll be back in a week. But then what? Who knows where Neely will be booked by then? And off he’ll go.”
“Take each problem as it comes,” Henry suggested.
Lyon returned ten days later. But he could only stay a week. Neely was going to make a picture in Europe. It would be shot in France and Italy with a top cast, “She’s not making a fortune out of it,” he explained, “but it will prove to Hollywood and television that she’s reliable, because I intend to see that the picture is brought in ahead of schedule.”
“Lyon, take me with you,” she said suddenly.
“Wouldn’t work.”
“Why not?”
“Neely can be a monster, you know. Her success in London was staggering. You don’t know what it’s like when you make it over there. They have a loyalty that’s unbelievable. They shout her name when she walks down the street and they queue up for hours just to catch a glimpse of her. Two guys from the Johnson Harris office flew over with a big television offer. Everyone is trying to grab her. And all this is getting to her.”
“But she has to have loyalty to you and George—you rescued her.”
“She’s also paid off every cent she owes, to you and to the office. She’s making money—and she’s making us money. The shoe seems to be on the other foot. She thinks we ought to be grateful to her.”
“But what’s that got to do with my coming over?”
“It would be a distraction. Neely would resent it.”
“Neely would resent it! I’m your wife. And I’m her best friend. How could she resent me?”
“She’s a power again, and she knows it. Don’t forget, she allowed Joey Kling to share the bill, and we’ve gotten Joey a big TV deal for next season out of it. The package will go for a hundred and fifty thousand a week, and we represent that package. That’s fifteen thousand a week for thirty-nine weeks. And Neely was directly responsible for it. Next year we’ll get Neely a special—once a month, for two hundred thousand each. So right now everything revolves around Neely. If you are there, naturally I’ll be splitting my time. I’d want to show you Paris, Rome—I’d want to be with you. I would neglect Neely. Please, my darling, bear with me. In another year I shall be able to pay back y
“But I’m sure Neely wouldn’t resent me. She was the one who told me I could leave the baby and travel.”
“Neely is . . . well, she’s different now. All she thinks about is Neely. You’ve got to understand that, Anne. You were never close to her when she was doing well. She always came running to you when things went wrong. She was human then—now she’s impossible. I have to watch her every second to keep her from alienating people, to make sure she reports on time. She’s regained her feeling of power. She’s even started with the tantrums again. Luckily I can control them, and let’s hope it keeps that way. But I must devote all my time to her.”
The next three months were impossible for Anne. She spent so much time with little Jennifer that the nurse felt idle and complained. Reports kept coming in about Neely’s fantastic success abroad. Lyon wrote sporadically and phoned once a week. The picture was going great, although they had had to reshoot the beginning because Neely had lost so much weight. He’d be home the end of June. Then a week passed without any word at all.
She placed a transatlantic call on July fourth. The operator at the George V announced he had checked out exactly a week ago. No, no forwarding address. She believed he had returned to the States. Yes, Miss O’Hara had checked out at the same time.
She was dumbstruck. Could he have come back by boat? But why, if he was eager to see her and the baby? She called George. He sounded evasive. Yes, Lyon and Neely were due back; no, he had not heard from them in five days.
That night she lay in bed and tried to watch television. Nothing held her interest. She finally turned off the set and settled down with the morning papers. Suddenly an item in one of the columns stood out like a neon sign:
What legendary singing star who has made a phenomenal comeback attributes it, along with her shapely new figure, to her new love? But the star’s love story may not have a happy ending. Her love is her manager, who is very much married to a television beauty.