Platinum Doll. Anne Girard

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СКАЧАТЬ admit it to her mother. So far in her life, it had never been worth the price of Jean’s days-long, stormy tirades if she felt even the least bit confronted or questioned.

      “You were young when you married my daddy.”

      “And you see how that ended up.”

      “Well, that won’t happen to us because we married for the right reasons.”

      “Time will tell, I suppose.”

      Anxious for a distraction, Harlean glanced down at her mother’s lovely silk-faille-covered shoes, ornamented with large square, silver buckles.

      “Gee, those are awfully keen.”

      She knew her mother well enough—better really than anyone else did—to know that this was the best way to divert a scene or end a problem. It was also far more clever than initiating a full-scale tirade so soon after her mother’s arrival. Harlean might not always be as forceful as she would like to be, but she did take pride in her ingenuity. For now that would have to do.

      Jean glanced down at her own feet, the tense moment between them extinguished in the face of sudden fashion talk, which they both adored.

      “Oh, good, I’m glad you like them because, as it happens, I brought you a pair just like them, so we can be twins!”

      “Gosh, that’s great, thank you, Mommie. I just love them!”

      Suddenly, Marino was standing in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, wearing his customary sly grin. He always reminded Harlean of a gangster, but that was another thing she would never tell her mother. Jean believed him to be the sophisticated savior of a floundering Midwest beauty. In reality, he was a smarmy, two-bit huckster.

      “So what have you two gorgeous dames got in store for me today?”

      As he posed the question, he touched his moustache. Harlean supressed a twinge of disgust in response. What her mother saw in him she would never know, and she certainly didn’t care to. But they were here now, and Harlean fully intended to take advantage of the visit in order to bring her mother and her husband together at last. She certainly didn’t want this turmoil, she didn’t like it, so that was about to come to an end. She would figure out a way. Being in Hollywood again had given her a new confidence she never knew she had, and finally Harlean felt up to the heady challenge.

      * * *

      Over the next few days, Jean and Marino settled into the house as if they meant to remain there indefinitely. Clothing was steadily being strewn and piled everywhere in the bedroom and the bathroom. A few pieces even found their way into the living room. Jean’s favorite tablecloth now covered the table in place of one Chuck and Harlean had bought on their honeymoon cruise, and the music on the radio was nearly always the Italian opera that Marino fancied.

      As a clear response to their presence in his home, Chuck left early most mornings before Harlean awoke. When he returned at night, he was most often under the influence of more than a few drinks.

      “I hate this damn guest room,” he grumbled in the dark as he flopped onto the edge of the bed and tried to remove his own shoes and socks without falling over.

      Harlean pressed a hand onto his shoulder in a soothing gesture. “You’re only saying that because Mommie’s in the other room.”

      “I’m saying it because I haven’t made love to my wife since her mother installed herself in my bedroom!”

      “Shh, pipe down, or she’ll hear you!”

      “This isn’t normal, doll, us being separated. I miss the feel of you, the way you taste. Not having you is driving me crazy!”

      He pivoted on the bed and pressed her back into the pillows, then arched above her before she had a moment to object.

      “I need you, Harlean. I need us. Your mother is gonna ruin everything, I know she will.”

      “Don’t say that. You don’t know her like I do. She wants what’s best for me.”

      “Not so long ago you told me that was me.”

      His thighs anchored hers to the bed, his hands were tightly cuffing her wrists. Harlean pressed her hips into his, wanting the connection with him every bit as much as he did. But the walls in this house were thin, the two rooms separated only by boards and stucco. The springs on the bed frame creaked.

      She could hear the muffled sounds of Marino and her mother talking in the other room.

      Chuck kissed her again, one breast then the other. They were straining to hold back from what they both wanted.

      “If we’re quiet...” he raggedly whispered.

      “God, they’ll know, for sure!”

      Harlean was meeting his kisses with anticipation. He pressed up her silk nightgown straining over her. “So what if they know? I need you, Harlean, you’re my wife!”

      “Chuck! I can’t!”

      Their heavy breathing fought the silence, though Marino’s muffled words still came through the thin walls. “I can’t go on like this!” Chuck growled.

      “They’ve only been here a few days.”

      He moved away from her and fell onto his back, his chest heaving. “Well, it feels like a goddamn eternity to me.”

      Harlean nestled against him, the sound of his heart slamming in her ear. He was being petulant and spoiled. She waited for him to calm beneath her tender touch. “I love you, Chuck, with all my heart. You know I do.”

      “Get them out of here, Harlean. I want my wife back.”

      It was the last thing he said before he rolled away from her and pulled the covers up to create a barrier between them.

      * * *

      Harlean rose early the next morning so she could let the dog outside in the backyard. There was a light mist covering the lawn and the sunrise sky was all rose and vermilion. She stood watching it for a while before she went back in to make a pot of coffee, then sank onto one of the new kitchen chairs. She’d been awake most of the night, wanting Chuck as much as he had wanted her and struggling with guilt over refusing him. As glad as she had been about her mother’s arrival, it had changed things. The Bellos just needed their own house nearby and then everything would be fine.

      Everything would get back to normal.

      The ringing of the phone startled her. She lunged toward the dining room nook to answer it. She needed this bit of peace, time to herself. She certainly didn’t want Chuck to wake in a fouler mood than the one in which he had gone to bed.

      “Hello?”

      “Jean Harlow, please.”

      “I’m sorry, my mother is still asleep and—”

      Only then, as the words crossed her lips, did she remember the name she had given to Central Casting. She was Jean Harlow.

      She cleared her throat. “Jean Harlow СКАЧАТЬ