may be a famous actress, but she was still a teenager who enjoyed listening to hit songs on the radio.
“If she plays that song one more time, I’ll have to shoot her with the pistol John gave me,” a voice from behind whispered. It was a voice not meant to be heard from far away. Just a few inches from your pillow. Raspy, but exciting somehow.
It seemed to come from a hammock just underneath a palm tree nearby. My eyes had adjusted to the shade by the time I came to a halt beside her. She was the most beautiful creature in the world. Quite a bit of mileage on her, but well driven. One of the best-built chassis in Hollywood. And she knew it. To have been courted by many rich and famous men had given her a unique complacency. Her face had huge, deep, dark eyes, a firm jaw, the kind that doesn’t dent when you kiss it hard, and lips the texture of fine silk. Costly silk.
Ava Gardner was wearing a dark blue cotton robe. Maybe she had on a bathing suit underneath. Maybe not.
“If I kill her, would you arrest me, Mr. Security Man?” she said, that last bit hot enough to melt vanilla ice cream.
“No,” I managed, suddenly nervous. “My job would be the opposite: to make sure no one arrests you, Miss Gardner, so that when the filming’s over you can go back to Madrid without a scratch, not even on your passport.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” she answered heartlessly. She smoked her cigarette despotically. There wasn’t much room left in that chassis for a sense of humor. And if there was, it was being saved for whoever could pay for it.
“Would you like me to say something to Miss Lyon about her taste in music?” I replied as professionally as possible, considering the fact that I had Ava Gardner in a bathrobe right in front of me.
“Leave her alone. That girl’s gonna need a hundred lovers and two thousand martinis before she understands the ways of the world. No doubt she’ll end up living with some criminal. But tell her that once I lose my temper, I have a hard time finding it.”
The cigarette smoke dispelled any angelic aura she might have still possessed. In fact, it made her look rather malevolent.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” I tried to play nice.
“Sure, you can go find all those weasels looking for their hundred-dollar snapshot and put a bullet into each and every one of them. They only invent affairs and romances in orderto sell more magazines. Can you believe what they’re saying about me and that brute of an
indio
, Fernández?”
“Sorry. I don’t read magazines; they insult my stupidity.”
“They say I kissed him.”
“And did you?”
“Kid, everybody kisses everybody else in this disgusting business. It’s the kissiest line of work in the world.”
I smiled. I’d gotten a laugh out of her for free. Others would pay thousands. Her eyes were boring right through me, but I didn’t move.
“Aren’t they expecting you in there?” She said languidly, as if she were about to fall asleep.
The conversation was over. And I had to admit it hadn’t been my smoothest encounter with a movie star. I turned around and headed back to Lyon’s bungalow.
The same song was still playing. I stuck my head through the open door. The place looked empty, but there was a strong smell of ocean and sex. An aroma so sweet, they should bottle it and sell it as this summer’s fragrance.
“Hello,” I called out.
A bare torso appeared from behind the sofa. He gave me a “who, me?” look: Bugs Bunny caught stealing carrots. Lyon popped up next to him, her bra halfway off. I could see one of her egg-shaped breasts, her nipple a tiny yolk.
“Just a minute,” she managed to say between giggles.
I ducked back outside. While I waited for the lovebirds to change out of their Adam and Eve costumes and into something more suitable for the movie set, my gaze soughtout Gardner. The hammock was empty. She hadn’t even given me the pleasure of seeing her shins.
“Please come in,” Lyon
“If she plays that song one more time, I’ll have to shoot her with the pistol John gave me,” a voice from behind whispered. It was a voice not meant to be heard from far away. Just a few inches from your pillow. Raspy, but exciting somehow.
It seemed to come from a hammock just underneath a palm tree nearby. My eyes had adjusted to the shade by the time I came to a halt beside her. She was the most beautiful creature in the world. Quite a bit of mileage on her, but well driven. One of the best-built chassis in Hollywood. And she knew it. To have been courted by many rich and famous men had given her a unique complacency. Her face had huge, deep, dark eyes, a firm jaw, the kind that doesn’t dent when you kiss it hard, and lips the texture of fine silk. Costly silk.
Ava Gardner was wearing a dark blue cotton robe. Maybe she had on a bathing suit underneath. Maybe not.
“If I kill her, would you arrest me, Mr. Security Man?” she said, that last bit hot enough to melt vanilla ice cream.
“No,” I managed, suddenly nervous. “My job would be the opposite: to make sure no one arrests you, Miss Gardner, so that when the filming’s over you can go back to Madrid without a scratch, not even on your passport.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” she answered heartlessly. She smoked her cigarette despotically. There wasn’t much room left in that chassis for a sense of humor. And if there was, it was being saved for whoever could pay for it.
“Would you like me to say something to Miss Lyon about her taste in music?” I replied as professionally as possible, considering the fact that I had Ava Gardner in a bathrobe right in front of me.
“Leave her alone. That girl’s gonna need a hundred lovers and two thousand martinis before she understands the ways of the world. No doubt she’ll end up living with some criminal. But tell her that once I lose my temper, I have a hard time finding it.”
The cigarette smoke dispelled any angelic aura she might have still possessed. In fact, it made her look rather malevolent.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” I tried to play nice.
“Sure, you can go find all those weasels looking for their hundred-dollar snapshot and put a bullet into each and every one of them. They only invent affairs and romances in orderto sell more magazines. Can you believe what they’re saying about me and that brute of an
indio
, Fernández?”
“Sorry. I don’t read magazines; they insult my stupidity.”
“They say I kissed him.”
“And did you?”
“Kid, everybody kisses everybody else in this disgusting business. It’s the kissiest line of work in the world.”
I smiled. I’d gotten a laugh out of her for free. Others would pay thousands. Her eyes were boring right through me, but I didn’t move.
“Aren’t they expecting you in there?” She said languidly, as if she were about to fall asleep.
The conversation was over. And I had to admit it hadn’t been my smoothest encounter with a movie star. I turned around and headed back to Lyon’s bungalow.
The same song was still playing. I stuck my head through the open door. The place looked empty, but there was a strong smell of ocean and sex. An aroma so sweet, they should bottle it and sell it as this summer’s fragrance.
“Hello,” I called out.
A bare torso appeared from behind the sofa. He gave me a “who, me?” look: Bugs Bunny caught stealing carrots. Lyon popped up next to him, her bra halfway off. I could see one of her egg-shaped breasts, her nipple a tiny yolk.
“Just a minute,” she managed to say between giggles.
I ducked back outside. While I waited for the lovebirds to change out of their Adam and Eve costumes and into something more suitable for the movie set, my gaze soughtout Gardner. The hammock was empty. She hadn’t even given me the pleasure of seeing her shins.
“Please come in,” Lyon
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