10 It was a November morning in Hollywood, but it could just as well have been one in April or June. It had rained the previous week, but now a warm sun was shining, and though the rain had cleaned the air when it fell, by now the sunlight was filtered by a diffuse layer of smog. In Barry Bergman’s bedroom, Jenni Jarman was in bed, awake, with Barry asleep beside her. She was hesitating whether to get up quietly to go to her room and let him sleep or to wait for him to wake up. The decision was made for her when he stirred in his sleep and could be heard clearly to murmur “Gina!” Gina Lombardi was the character – a former mafia moll in the Witness Protection Program who gets involved with her protection officers – that she would be playing in the movie that she was now rehearsing, tentatively titled Moving Around. But it seemed far-fetched that he would be dreaming about someone who at that point was only a name in a script. It was much more likely that he was calling to his old flame, Gina George. “It’s Jenni, not Gina,” she said and kissed his ear. He woke up, startled. Later that morning he was alone next to his pool, sprawling in a deck chair while drinking coffee and intermittently reading the paper and putting it down to give his thoughts free rein. His current project, the one he had originally conceived with Cydni in mind, was shooting well, though without her; the part that he had envisioned for her was given to Melissa and had to be revised to account for the age difference. Cydni had declined his proposal, saying that she intended to marry and have kids and that this would be the wrong kind of career to have in her background. About a month after the abortion she called him to thank him for his help and to let him know that her period had returned and that she was now taking the pill regularly. When they got together he saw that she was her skinny self again, causing him to reflect that she had the wrong body type for the work, after all. They watched a rough-cut video of Vixens at Play, with the desired effect. In the morning she told him that she was getting back with her boyfriend; he had gone to see Campus Capers and the sight of her got him so turned on that he, in her words, “fell right back in love” with her. Barry Bergman went back to his paper and something he read made him suddenly sit up. “Hey girls!” he yelled into the house. “Come read this!” Jenni Jarman and Lesli Lyman came out, wearing robes. It was not obvious to Barry if they wore anything underneath them. “What does it say, Barry?” Jenni asked as she placed herself beside Barry, pressing her body into his. She took the paper from his hands with no resistance on his part. “Listen to this, Les,” she said and began reading. “‘Ingmar he’s not,’…” she began. “Not that one again!” said Barry. “What’s that?” Lesli asked. “You know,” said Jenni, “like, Ingmar Bergman…” Lesli’s expression was blank. “Like, the Swedish director?” Jenni went on. “Barry’s not Swedish!” said Lesli indignantly. “We know,” said Jenni, giving up on her friend, and went on reading. “ ‘… but Barry Bergman has not lost his light touch.’ ” Barry Bergman slipped his hand under Jenni’s robe to pat her behind, which turned out to be bikini-bottomed. “Let me read, Barry!” said Jenni but made no attempt to remove Barry’s hand. “ ‘His new twin discoveries, Jenni Jarman and Lesli Lyman…’ ” “We’re not twins!” said Lesli, almost shouting. “We’re not even sisters!” “It’s just a way of writing, Les! ‘…almost make up for the loss of his star Gina George to art cinema. With Campus Capers already a solid hit and the soon-to-be-released A Bard in the Bush – both with Frank Bond…’ ” “What about Vixens?” asked Lesli. “It doesn’t say,” said Jenni. She continued her reading in silence. It was early afternoon when Barry Bergman returned home from the gym and, in his study, took a call from Geoff Scrivener, who had borrowed close to half a million pounds to invest in Albert Bosch’s new film. The study had a window overlooking the pool, and his desk chair faced the window, but he had never removed the provocative eight-by-ten photo of Gina George that occupied the desk, and he was looking at it throughout the telephone conversation. Had he looked through the window, he would have seen Lesli Lyman in a bikini – one that he had not seen before, but then she had bought bagfuls of new bikinis after her operation – sitting at the poolside table, drinking, with a half-empty bottle of gin on the table. “So the Brits didn’t dig it, huh?” he was saying on the phone. “Well, if it doesn’t make it in swingin’ London, it’s DOA here.” “What’s that?” asked Geoff. “Oh, that’s American lingo: Dead on Arrival.” He suppressed his customary laugh because he knew that the distributor might be losing a bundle of cash. About that time, in the London evening, in the hallway of a hotel, a barefoot Gina George, wearing a dress with a raincoat over it and holding her sandals in her hand, was coming out of a room, gently closing the door behind her, putting on her sandals and tiptoeing down the hall to another room. She knocked on the door. “Yes?” said Mario Farga’s voice from behind the door. She tried to enter but found the door locked. “It’s me!” she said in a loud whisper. After a few seconds the door opened, and Gina swept in. “Don’t worry,” she said, “Albert is a deep sleeper.” A tipsy Lesli Lyman walked into Barry Bergman’s study without knocking. “Oh, I knew that they were gonna love my little Bobbsy twins,” she heard Barry saying. “We’re not twins, Barry,” she said, not minding that he was on the phone. “Like, we’re not even sisters.” “Gotta hang up now,” said Barry to the receiver as he blew Lesli a kiss. “See you tomorrow at hahf pahst twelve. A Bard in the Bush will blow you over.” He reached out his arm to Lesli, who came over to him half-heartedly. “Barry,” she complained, “why do you keep calling us twins? Like, we don’t even look alike. And even in the movie we weren’t, like, sisters.” “It’s just a little joke, honey,” he said. “It’s that… that I like the both of you just the same, so to me you’re like twins.” With a smile, she sat down on his lap, and they began to snuggle while he sneaked yet another peek at Gina’s photo. He kissed Lesli, but pulled away with barely concealed distaste when he smelled her mouth. He now looked out the window and saw the almost-empty bottle on the table. “You do not!” said Lesli suddenly. “I do not what?” asked Barry, nonplussed. “You do not like us both the same.” “What do you mean? Sure I do.” “No, you don’t. You put her name before mine…” “But that’s just alphabetical, you know – J comes before L…” “You don’t have to tell me, I know the alphabet, I went to school.” She got up from his lap and stood beside the desk. “So, what’s the big deal?” “You sleep with Jen, and you just fool around with me once in a while.” “Well, Jenni lives here…” “Well, sure, she’s living with you!” “She’s not living with me, she’s just staying in the guest cottage; she has more room here than she did in your place, and so do you: now you’re free to do whatever you do at home.” “What do you mean, whatever I do?” “Just that, honey, whatever you do.” “You mean, like, drinking?” “Well, you do that anywhere.” “So, like sex?” “You do that anywhere too, don’t you?” “I do not! Who… I mean, whom do you take me for?” “Please…” Whom did she take herself for? She was a hard-core porn actress, the little bitch. “You mean coke, don’t you?” Lesli was almost shouting, again. She had that way of almost, but not quite, shouting. “You don’t like me using coke?” “It’s fine – you’re free, white and twenty-one…” “Damn right I am – I mean, I’m twenty-two.” “Just as long as you don’t do it here, or in the studio.” “Oh, you’re just paranoid, Barry.” Suddenly she was calm. “By the way, where’s Jen?” “She’s in acting class.” Barry Bergman tried to keep his annoyance from showing in his voice. “But it’s Saturday!” “It’s a makeup class.” “But I already know how to put on makeup!” Had he heard it from anyone but Lesli, Barry Bergman would have thought that this was a pretty good joke, but in her case he doubted it. “Remember when the teacher had to be away last week?” he asked patiently. “Today’s class is to make up for it.” “Oh, that kind of makeup! I guess I forgot.” She sat on his lap again and kissed his cheek. “Uh, sweetheart,” Barry Bergman said, “how about a little mouthwash, and maybe brushing your teeth.” “Sure, Barry,” she said as she coquettishly slid off his lap and walked across the hall to the bathroom. He got up, took a last look at Gina, and walked down the hall to his bedroom. He straightened the ruffled sheets as best he could. He wondered if Lesli would recognize her former roommate’s smell on them. The nighttime London rain had diminished to a drizzle again. From the Thames embankment, as Margaret and the man from the bar were walking with his umbrella over her, they could see the Big Ben clock showing 11:40. “Why must you go back so soon?” he was asking her. “I’ve been here too long already.” “But you haven’t even seen your own show! I’d love to see it with you.” “Tomorrow, then.” “It’s Sunday.” “Oh,” she said. “Monday? Oh, no, I’m busy all day. Tuesday? Please stay at least till Tuesday!” he was almost pleading. Was this her tourist fling? Margaret wondered as she pointed at a side street. “This way,” she said. “Please? I think you’re a wonderful artist…” he said as they turned into the side street. “What makes you think so?” “Well, you’re an artist, and I think you’re wonderful.” She gave him a quick but tender kiss on the cheek and smiled. “This is it. Thanks for everything, Nigel. I must go now.” “Is someone waiting for you?” he asked in a tone that he managed to make mischievous. “Yes, my stepfather.” “Is he wicked?” “No, just boring,” she said and smiled at him. He grabbed her into his arms and she gave in to a passionate kiss. It had been a long time since she had felt anything like it; she could not recall Albert ever kissing her like that, though there was no shortage of passionate kisses in his films. She resented the thought of Albert intruding on her at the moment, but it spurred her to wriggle out of the embrace and get into building as fast as she could, without turning back. Nigel looked at the doorway and focused his eyes on the number 7. He had always thought seven to be his lucky number. Barry Bergman made sure that Lesli drove home before he left his house for the studio to do some final touch-up work, with the new medium of computer editing that he was still learning, on A Bard in the Bush. He was wary of leaving her alone in the house, without Jenni or anyone else there. Unlike most people in his bracket, he did not have live-in help. He had people come in regularly to clean the house, to take care of the grounds, to maintain the pool, and, if he would give a lunch or dinner party, to cook and wait on tables, but he did not like the idea of anyone besides him sleeping there regularly. Jenni was another matter. Of course, with the money from Campus Capers beginning to roll in – the videos were selling like hotcakes, he had been told – she would soon be able to afford a nice place of her own, but in the meantime it was convenient for her to be there. They slept together a couple of times a week – sometimes more – and he saw no reason not to trust her. Besides, she was fun to be around, and on occasion she cooked some delicious Armenian dishes. But their lives were separate; they drove to the studio separately, their work schedules being so very different. Some evenings she would go out on a date – sometimes she would even dress up – and would not come home till late, or till morning. It occurred to Barry Bergman that he had never actually gone out with her on a date, or taken her as his date to a party. Perhaps he would, one of these nights; she would make nice arm candy, if not as spectacular as Gina. Maybe to the Krugers’ Thanksgiving party? No, Helena would be home on vacation, and he wouldn’t want to pass up a chance for one of his too-infrequent encounters with her. Anyway, there was no reason for Jenni not to fool around with other guys; besides, she never brought any of them to his house. No doubt about it, that girl liked sex, and had gone into the right line of work. As he once told some European journalists, Barry Bergman considered it important for his actors, and especially actresses, to like sex per se and to enjoy a variety of partners. That way they could work without the reliance on cocaine that had become pervasive in the industry. Barry Bergman did not wish to control the private lives of his performers, but he did not want to have to deal with addicts, and the addictive nature of cocaine was by this time beyond doubt. Jenni was now rehearsing for a project in which she would be the above-the-title star. She could go far – maybe the next Gina George, if she let him guide her career carefully. It was not entirely a coincidence that her character was named Gina. The current Gina George, meanwhile, was frantically making love with Mario Farga, as if to make up for the weeks of on-the-set flirting, teasing and faking. She doubted that one night would be enough, but she knew that he had someone back in Barcelona, where they were due to fly the next day, so that she felt compelled to cram all the pent-up passion into this one night. She was aware that what she was experiencing was what happened to mainstream actors all the time, when all the unconsummated passion that was acted out on the set or on stage got consummated in private, giving rise to all those gossip-column romances. Mario tried to keep up with her as best he could, but at some point after midnight he fell asleep, exhausted. Gina decided to stay until morning, expecting to find a sleep-refreshed Mario at full strength again. She had a hard time falling asleep. Her thoughts darted between Albert, alone in their bed and probably having some dream – she hoped she was in it – that might turn into his next film, and Barry, probably fooling around with one of his new chickadees. She would try to get a videocassette of Barry’s latest, in which a new girl named Jenni Jarman supposedly did some good work with that jerk Frank Bond. She also thought about the negative reaction of the London audience to Lady G; she knew how scathing the London critics could be. Mario’s reassurance about how they would love it in his country, which was really only a region, was not really all that comforting. There was still Paris… She looked at the outline of Mario’s muscular chest gently rising and falling as he was sleeping, almost soundlessly, on his back. And then she had an idea. As he was leaving the studio, Barry Bergman was looking forward to the next day, to Geoff Scrivener’s visit to Hollywood – a pilgrimage, as Geoff called it, that he made twice a year. Barry was hoping to hear news, and possibly gossip, about Gina. And he, in turn, would tell Geoff – who was gay – about Frank Bond. Frank Bond was the hot new stud in town, as well as a good actor, and he was in great demand in the industry as well as in the boudoirs of Hollywood. He worked with Barry Bergman, as with everyone else, on a picture-by-picture basis – there was no chance of an exclusive contract – and Fleshpots had been his first for BB Productions. It had pretty much been a flop because of – as he and Gina both put it to Barry – the lack of chemistry between them, though, as Barry Bergman thought on his drive home on this Saturday afternoon, there had been plenty of biology; it was just a matter of clashing egos. Frank had agreed to do Campus Capers once he found out that Gina George was not to be in it, and he had so enjoyed working with Jenni that he agreed, on short notice, to do A Bard in the Bush even though had already signed for a project with another producer. Also, this project flattered him artistically – “Wow! That’s me all right!” was his response to Barry’s initial pitch – but the two shootings going on at the same time and Frank’s need for occasional times of recovery from his sexual exertions created an erratic rehearsal and shooting schedule. Still, they managed to get it ready for post-production by mid-October. Besides Jenni, who of course had a leading part, Lili Long, Melissa Milton and Tammi Taylor – who had taken a leave to have a baby but was now ready to go back to work – played actresses. For Lesli, Barry had originally thought that she could be something like a theater manager’s secretary, but, since her part in Campus Capers had been of a similar nature, he decided against getting her typecast so early in her career. It was Melissa who had suggested the part of a dresser, and that had worked out quite well. The scene that he had touched up that day was the one with Melissa that Barry had envisioned when he first had the idea for A Bard in the Bush. Of course, Barry’s original vision had been of Gina. Ah, Gina, he thought, and couldn’t help sighing.