“What for?” he asked. “You’re staying with me.”
“I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
“It’s no trouble at all. I’ve got a big house and a housekeeper that has nothing to do.”
When I put down the telephone my heart was pounding as if I had just walked up five flights of stairs. But when I went back into the bedroom and lay back on the pillows I slept like a baby.
Chapter 10
The house was on a hill in Malibu a few miles north of the more exclusive colony. A narrow staircase, cut into the rocks, led to a beach a hundred-odd feet below. The beach itself was a narrow cove between two rock formations, making it almost inaccessible to the wandering bather. A pool surrounded by flowers was built into the small garden which hung out over the ocean. Once in the pool, it felt as if one were swimming in the sky.
A studio car met us at the airport and drove us to the house. We were greeted at the door by his housekeeper, a small smiling broad-faced woman of Mexican-Indian descent. She showed no surprise at my arrival. He said something to her in Spanish; she nodded and led me to my room.
A corner room with an ocean view on two sides, it was decorated in Mexican Mediterranean. The bed was Hollywood king sized and looked as if it were intended to sleep six people. She placed my suitcase on a small table against the wall and said something to me which I didn’t understand.
As soon as she had left, John appeared in the doorway. “Do you like it?”
“I love it. It’s just beautiful.”
“It’s simple,” he said, sounding pleased. “But I did it all myself. It’s just what I always wanted.”
“Have you had it long?”
“Two years. Since my separation. My wife and the children have a house in Bel Air.”
I looked at him.
“I had to tell you that. I wanted you to know how things are.”
I appreciated his honesty. “Thank you.”
“The telephone, radio and remote TV control are on the side of the bed.” He stared toward a small door at the side of the room. “The bathroom is over here.”
I went through the door he opened for me. It was a large bathroom, double sink, sunken tub with built-in Jacuzzi, shower stall and bidet. I eyed the other door which was opposite the one we entered.
“That leads to the other guest room,” he said. “But for all intents and purposes it’s yours. I had it built this way because the kids share it when they stay over.”
“How many do you have?”
“Three. Two boys and a girl. The girl is fourteen, the twin boys are twelve. You’re in her room.”
I nodded and followed him back into the bedroom. He turned to me. “I suggest you take a nap before dinner. The time change is always tiring.”
“I don’t feel tired,” I said.
“You will. It always hits me at dinnertime.” He walked to the door. “We’ll have dinner at eight o’clock if that’s okay with you.”
“Perfect.”
He smiled. “I’ll see you then.”
***
When I opened my eyes the room was bathed in purple and violet light. I checked my watch. It was still set on New York time. Ten o’clock. I reset it and got out of bed. He had been right. The time change had caught up with me.
I went into the bathroom and turned on the water in the tub. I stared at the water, pale and sparkling green, spilling from the spout and put some lemon-scented Vitabath into the water. I stripped and got into the tub just as the automatic Jacuzzi went on.
I gave myself up to the currents. One of the jets seemed aimed right between my legs. It was lovely, even better than the Green Hornet.
Suddenly I was aware of the phone buzzing in the bathroom. I reached out of the tub and took it. “Hello.”
“Are you awake?”
“Yes, I’m in the tub.”
“No rush. Dinner will be ready when you are.”
I laughed. “I may decide to have dinner in the tub.”
“You like it?”
“The Jacuzzi is too much. I may decide to marry it.”
He laughed. “Enjoy. See you in a little bit.
I put back the phone but by then the water had turned cool so I got out. I took one of the giant-sized towels and rubbed myself briskly. Everything in California was large—the beds, the tubs, even the towels. I wondered if it signified anything. I gave up thinking about it, got into a pair of slacks and a shirt and went downstairs.
The table with a salad in a large wooden bowl in the center was already set next to the open patio door. Outside a charcoal fire was glowing in the barbecue.
I stopped in the center of the room, sniffing. “What’s that?”
“Baked potatoes in charcoal. I hope you like them.”
“Roast mickeys?” I said. “I love them.”
He smiled and went to the bar. He turned on the Osterizer. “I have two specialties,” he said. “I make the best Margaritas and the best steaks in the world.” He pulled the cocktail glasses from the ice bucket and quickly rimmed them with salt, then stopped the machine and filled the glasses to the brim.
“Welcome to California,” he said as I took the glass from him.
The Margarita went down like liquid fire, sending a warm glow through me. “Unbelievable,” I said. He couldn’t know I had never drunk a Margarita before.
“I’ll put the steaks on,” he said. “By the time we finish two of these, they’ll be ready.”
As if on cue, the housekeeper came into the room carrying two huge steaks on a wooden platter which she handed over to John. “Buenas noches,” she said.
I smiled and nodded as she left.
“She usually has Sunday off,” he said. “She only stayed to see that everything was right.”
I followed him out to the barbecue and watched him put the steaks on the grill. There was a hissing sound as the fat hit the coals.
“The steaks have been marinated in oil, vinegar and garlic,” he explained. “Gives them a special flavor. Like it rare?”
I nodded.
“Good. So do I.”
By the time the steaks were ready I felt good, light-headed but good. I sighed with relief as I sat down at the table.
I watched him solemnly as he lit the candles and poured the wine. The wine glass was almost too heavy for me to lift. After the tequila the red wine was soft to the taste. “Lovely,” I said, putting the wineglass down carefully.
“I think I overdid the Margaritas,” he said.
“No.”
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m okay,” I said quickly. “Just a little drunk.”
“You’ll be all right after you eat something,” he said.
He was right about that. The steak, salad and baked potatoes were delicious and by the time we got to the coffee my head was clear.
“Do you smoke?” he asked after we’d finished our coffee.
I nodded.
“I have some great grass. Acapulco Gold. It goes great with cognac.” He looked at me. “Feel up to it?”
“Lead on. You’ve already seen me drunk, you might as well see me stoned.”
I followed him to the couch. He opened a wooden cigarette box on the coffee table. “I’ve got a few Js already rolled,” he said.
He lit the joint, then passed it to me while he went to get the brandy snifters and the bottle.
I took a big hit and let the smoke slowly out. I nodded. “Mellow.”
“The best,” he said, taking it from me. He hit it again and gave me my brandy. I watched him chase the smoke down his throat with the cognac. “Try it like that.”
I followed his example. It was dynamite. In a second I was up there. Suddenly it all seemed very funny. I began to laugh.
“Que pasa?” he said.
“I still don’t believe it.”
“Believe what?
“I’m here. You. Me.”
He took the J from my fingers. Hit, sip, back to me. “It’s not hard to believe,” he said.
“I’ve never gone anywhere with a man before except my husband,” I said. “And here I’ve flown all the way across the country with you.”
“Are you having second thoughts?”
“No.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“I don’t have any.” I passed the joint back to him and giggled. “I’m high as a kite already.”
He laughed. “Feelin’ good is how to say it.”
“I’m feelin’ good.” I leaned against the back cushions. “You sure know how to treat a girl.”
He didn’t speak.
“I’m so relaxed,” I said. “I feel all loose and lazy.”
“Whenever you’re tired, you can go to bed. Don’t worry about me.”
“You’re a nice man, John Styles.”
“Thank you.”
“A perfect gentleman.”
He didn’t speak.
Suddenly I was warm. I looked outside at the pool and got to my feet. “Can I go for a swim?”
“Anything you want. There are bikinis in the small cabana. I think you’ll find one that fits.”
I met his eyes. “Do I have to?”
He shook his head silently.
I went outside, got out of my clothes at the side of the pool and dived in. The water was cool and refreshing. When I came up, he was still inside sitting on the couch. “Come on in,” I called. “It’s great.”
He came out, the joint still in his mouth, undressed and slipped into the water.
“Isn’t it great?” I asked. Without waiting for an answer I took the J from his lips and put in my mouth. Then I went over on my back, sucking the smoke into my lungs. The sky above was diamond-studded velvet. “Hey! This is really floating.”
Inside the house the telephone began to ring. I treaded water and looked at him. The phone rang again. He started to lift himself from the pool.
“You don’t have to answer it,” I said.
“I’ve been expecting the call,” he said. “It’s my A.D. to give me the schedule for tomorrow.”
I watched him get out of the pool and run dripping to the telephone in the cabana. He was on the phone almost fifteen minutes. When he came back I had finished the joint. But it didn’t seem to matter. My high was almost gone.
“The call is for six o’clock tomorrow morning,” he said.
I stared at him. “You want to go to bed?”
“I’d better,” he said. “Or else I’ll be in a fog all day.”
I got out of the pool and into another one of those giant California towels, which he wrapped around me as carefully as if I were a baby. I picked up my clothes while he wrapped a towel around his waist, then followed him up the stairs.
I stopped at my door and turned to him. He leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “Sleep well,” he said. “I left the keys in the convertible for you. Anything else you want just ask Maria. I’ll be leaving about five o’clock so I’ll see you when I get home in the evening.”
I stood in the doorway, watching him walk down the hall to his room and close the door behind him.
I went back to the bathroom, dropped the towel, lit a cigarette and stared at myself in the mirror. There had to be something wrong with me. I didn’t understand it. Cool was cool but his cool was too much. It had to be me.
“Damn!” I said angrily to myself in the mirror as I dragged on the cigarette and noticed that my hand was shaking.
I went back into the bedroom and took the Green Hornet from my suitcase, then looked around the bed for an outlet. I finally found it behind the giant headboard. There was no way I could get to it. That did it.
I threw the vibrator on the bed and walked out of my room and down the hall. I opened his door without knocking. He came out of the bathroom, the towel still around his waist, and stared at me.
In the mirror on the far wall I caught a glimpse of myself standing naked in his doorway. “Is there anything wrong with me?” I demanded. I didn’t wait for him to reply. “Or am I supposed to believe that you flew me three thousand miles across the country in order not to fuck me in California?”
Chapter 11
Inside there was a small light glowing from the lamp in the far corner of the room. Outside there was the blackness of the night and the quiet pounding of the surf. I was on the side of the bed near the open window; he was toward the wall, half hidden in the shadow.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Four o’clock.” The tip of his cigarette glowed in the dark. “Time for me to get up.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“I kept you awake. And you have to go to work.”
He was silent for a moment. “I’ll be okay. A shower and a red can work wonders.”
“Funny thing, I don’t feel sleepy. I was so tired when we got off the plane. And now I’m not tired at all.”
He smiled. “Youth.”
“Is that all it is?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is it always like this?”
He looked at me but I couldn’t see the expression in his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“The first time. All night.”
“No.”
I reached and took the cigarette from him, then I laughed and gave it back.
“Why did you laugh?” he asked.
“Habit. I really didn’t want the cigarette but I used to take Walter’s away from him pretending that I did because he wasn’t supposed to smoke.”
“Oh.”
“He had emphysema.”
He got out of bed without speaking.
“You’re not angry with me because I spoke about Walter, are you?”
“No.”
I sat up in the bed. “Are you sorry that I came out with you?”
“Are you sorry that you did?”
“No. But you didn’t answer.”
“I’m not sorry.”
“Was I okay? I mean was it good for you?”
He smiled. “You don’t hear me complaining.”
“I mean it. I want it to be as good for you as it is for me.”
The smile grew broader. “If it got any better I’d wind up in a hospital in less than a week.”
“I never knew it could be so good. I didn’t want to stop.”
“I kind of thought it had been a long time for you. How long since your divorce?”
“Going on five months.”
“That can be a long time for a girl as sexual as you are. There’s been no one else during that time?”
“No.” I didn’t tell him there hadn’t been much during my marriage either. Walter had his own routines. And I didn’t know any better.
“I’d better get started,” he said, going toward the bathroom.
“I’ll go downstairs and make coffee.”
“Know where the kitchen is?”
“I’ll find it.”
I went back to my room, put on a robe and went downstairs. The housekeeper was gone. The kitchen was as neat as a pin and the coffeepot was ready to be plugged in. I opened the refrigerator and by the time he came down I had bacon and eggs and toast on the table.