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SEVEN
LAS VEGAS
1954
Janet held the sleeveless, full-skirted dress up, and did a twirl in front of the wall of mirrors. “What do you think?” she asked Cilla. “The pink’s more elegant, but I really want to wear white. Every girl should be able to wear white on her wedding day.”
“You’ll look beautiful. You’ll look beautiful and young, and so incredibly happy.”
“I am. I’m all of those things. I’m nineteen. I’m a major movie star. My record is number one in the country. I’m in love.” She spiraled again, and again, spun-gold hair flying in gleaming waves.
Even in dreams, her sheer joy danced in the air, fluttered over Cilla’s skin.
“I’m madly in love with the most wonderful, the most handsome man in the world. I’m rich, I’m beautiful, and the world-right this moment-the world is mine.”
“It stays yours for a long time,” Cilla told her. But not long enough. It’s never long enough.
“I should wear my hair up.”
Janet tossed the dress onto the bed where the pink brocade suit already lay discarded. “I look more mature with my hair up. The studio never wants me to wear it up. They don’t want me to be a woman yet, a real woman. Always the girl next door, always the virgin.”
Laughing, she began to fashion her sleek fall of hair into a French twist. “I haven’t been a virgin since I was fifteen.” Janet met Cilla’s eyes in the mirror. And with the joy layered amusement, and a thin coat of disdain. “Do you think the public cares if I have sex?”
“Some do. Some will. But it’s your life.”
“Goddamn right. And my career. I want adult roles, and I’m going to get them. Frankie’s going to help me. Once we’re married, he’ll manage my career. He’ll handle things.”
“Yes,” Cilla murmured, “he will.”
“Oh, I know what you’re thinking.” Standing in her white silk slip, Janet continued to place pins in her hair. “Within the year I’ll be filing for divorce. Then a brief reconciliation gets me knocked up with my second child. I’m pregnant now, but I don’t know it. Joh
“You eloped to Vegas, married Frankie Be
“Vegas was my idea.” Janet picked up a can of hair spray from the dressing table, began to spray suffocating clouds of it. “I wanted to stuff it down their throats, I guess. Janet Hardy, and all the parts she plays, wouldn’t even know Vegas exists. But here I am, in the penthouse of the Flamingo, dressing for my wedding. And no one knows but me and Frankie.”
Cilla walked to the window, looked out.
A pool sparkled below, lush gardens flowing back from its skirting. Beyond, the buildings were small and on the tacky side. Colors faded, shapes blurred, like the old photographs Cilla supposed she’d pieced together to form the landscape for the dream.
“It’s nothing like it will be, really. Vegas, I mean.”
“What is?”
“You’ll marry Be
“After Joh
“If you knew what would happen? If you knew Frankie Be
Janet stepped into the dress. “If I didn’t, where would you be?” She turned her back. “Zip me up, will you?”
“You said, later, you’ll say that your mother offered you like a virgin to the studio, and the studio tore the i
“The studio made me a star.” She fastened pearls at her ears. “I didn’t walk away. I craved what they gave me, and gave them my i
She held up a double strand of pearls, and understanding, Cilla took them to hook around Janet’s neck.
“I’ll do amazing work in the next ten years. My very best work. And I’ll do some damn good work in the ten after that. Well, nearly ten,” she said with a laugh. “But who’s counting? Maybe I needed to be in turmoil to reach my potential. Who knows? Who cares?”
“I do.”
With a soft smile, Janet turned to kiss Cilla’s cheek. “I looked for love all of my life, and gave it too often, and too intensely. Maybe if I hadn’t looked so hard, someone would have given it back to me. The red belt!” She danced away to snatch a thick scarlet belt from the clothes tossed on the bed. “It’s just the right touch, and red’s Frankie’s favorite color. He loves me in red.”
She buckled it on, like a belt of blood, and stepped into matching shoes. “How do I look?”
“Perfect.”
“I wish you could come, but it’s only going to be me and Frankie, and the fu
And laughed, and laughed, so that Cilla heard the echoes of the laughter as she woke.
BECAUSE SHE WANTED to let her thoughts simmer away from the noise and distractions, Cilla spent the majority of her time the next two days sorting out the dozens of boxes and trunks she’d hauled into the barn.
Cilla had determined on her first pass that her mother had already culled and scavenged whatever she deemed worthwhile. But Dilly had missed a few treasures. She often did, to Cilla’s mind, being in such a rush to grab the shiniest object, she missed the little diamonds in the rough.
Like the old photo tucked in a book. A very pregnant Janet plopped on a chaise by the pond, mugging for the camera with a glossily handsome Rock Hudson. Or the script for With Violets-Janet’s second Oscar nomination-buried in a trunk full of old blankets. She found a little music box fashioned like a grand piano that played “Für Elise.” Inside, a little handwritten note read: From Joh
By the end of a rainy afternoon, she had a pile designated for the Dumpster, and a small stack of boxes to keep.
When she hauled out a load in a wheelbarrow, she found the rain had turned to fragile sunlight and her front yard full of people. Ford and her landscaper stood on the wet grass laughing at each other, along with a man with steel-gray hair who wore a light windbreaker. Crossing to them from a little red pickup was the owner of the roofing company she’d hired. A boy of about ten and a big white dog trailed after him.
After some posturing, and looking out from between Ford’s legs, Spock tiptoed-if dogs could tiptoe-up to the white dog, sniffed, then plopped down and exposed his belly in submission.
“Afternoon.” Cleaver of Cleaver Roofing and Gutters gave her a nod of greeting. “Had a job to check on down the road, and thought I’d stop on the way home to let you know we’ll be starting tomorrow if the weather’s clear.”
“That’s great.”
“These are my grandsons, Jake and Lester.” He winked at Cilla. “They don’t bite.”
“Good to know.”