Tinseltown Riff by Shelly Frome Page A

towel covered most of the rest. The sun porch opposite ran the entire length of the pool. As for what lay beyond the sun porch, there was the bamboo curtain Angelique had just slipped through and, like everything else, anybody’s guess. Anyway you looked at it, Ben needed to keep his eye on a quick exit. Anyway you looked at it, today’s edginess was more than justified.    
    He waited a while longer for Angelique’s return. He paced around the sun porch and glanced back. The scrawny form with the beak didn’t stir. He peered through the rolled-up bamboo shades that separated him from whatever was lying there, over to the opening in the gate, praying that no one would pull up behind the Prelude, blocking off his only avenue of escape.
    Just then, Angelique reappeared and murmured, “How about this?”
    Glancing back, Ben positioned himself so he could respond to her and keep apprised of the prone, goggled thing from Vegas.
    Still naked from the waist up, she clutched a yellow Lycra top with slashes on the side as if she’d just been in a knife fight, two silky tube tops, a nylon bomber jacket, a polka dot halter, and a florescent pink button-down with the shirttails tied in a knot. “Which one? Which one?” she squealed.
    â€œThe button-down. Look—”
    â€œHey, come on. You can at least gape at my bod and take in my porcelain complexion and tousled wispy locks. Wanna know the secret? My hair’s really light brown, but after lots of sun and a douse of platinum and gold, it gets this bold-blond glow. But it’s no good if the sun is gonna hide like this.”
    â€œGranted. It’s tough, I understand. But if you could put something on and we could get on with this ...”
    â€œAnother secret for you. I get a lot of facials. A skinline by Nicholas Perricone plus my hair and nails done every week. And a massage and body scrub for sheer indulgence.”
    â€œThat’s terrific.  But—”
    â€œI’m giving you clues, dammit.  I’m clueing you in.”
    â€œReally?  I’m sorry, I hadn’t noticed.”
    Angelique’s Barbie face went blank for a second. “Hey, what gives? The other seven came on strong. Said how they could ... re ... re ...”
    â€œRevive?  Revitalize? Revamp?”
    â€œThat’s the one. Revamp my image by repositioning me within the right tailored vehicle.” She uttered this statement slowly, like memorized patter she’d been rehearsing all day. “Revamp not ditch it,” she went on, a little faster this time. “They each also hit on me and wanted to jump on my bones.”
    â€œWell, that’s guys for you.”
    â€œTwo were women.”
    â€œExactly. Listen--”
    â€œHold it.”
    Angelique went blank again, gazing past Ben over to the pool. Then, staring Ben in the face, she said, “Has Ray moved at all?”
    â€œMust have,” said Ben, assuming Ray was the creature from Vegas. “His head is now facing this way.”
    â€œOh, rats, better hurry. I’ll choose one of these tops. Which’ll give you two minutes to ready your pitch.”
    â€œMy pitch?”
    â€œOh, get off it,” said Angelique.  “I am in trans ...”
    â€œTransition?”
    â€œYeah.  The cutesy-hot shtick has obviously had it. And that’s despite what those studio bimbos have been blowing in my ear.”
    Dropping her act entirely, Angelique’s features suddenly hardened. “It’s a bitch running on two speeds, you know?  Skin-revealing casual to red carpet.  Sleazy duds by day, flash and glitter at night. And even then, half the time who the hell knows if you’ve got it right. I have got to jack it into gear!”
    Still having no idea how to get in and out of this as fast as possibly, all Ben could mutter was, “Like I said, must be tough.”  
    She nodded, said, “You got it,” and