Bad Dreams by Kim Newman

didn’t believe her, and Coral teased her about it. She shut up. I suppose it was true, wasn’t it?’
    ‘Mmmm, yes.’
    ‘I knew it really. She pointed out some things you had written sometimes. You’re a good writer.’
    ‘Thanks. Judi would have been good too. At something.’
    Nina tried to smile, and showed too much of her skull. Her cheeks were too tight over the bones, and there were hollows above her temples. Her eyes were still young, but the rest of her body was ageing fast. Anne remembered Judi’s withered look.
    ‘Amelia Dorf is having one of her “entertainments” later this afternoon,’ Nina said.
    ‘Are you going?’
    ‘I may have to.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because I’m broke, Anne.’
    ‘I can give you money.’
    ‘Not enough. I need to do some smack. I’m not an addict, but I need it to work sometimes. I’m gradually cutting it out, like Judi, but you can’t do it all at once. Clive will be there. He always has good smack. And he’s straight with it.’
    Anne felt an icy calm. Seizing on what Nina had said, she casually asked the next question, knowing it was the key to the story. ‘You say Judi was off heroin?’
    ‘Yes. As far as I know, she had been straight for over a year. She was never a big user. Just a jab once in a while.’
    ‘How did she look?’
    ‘Uh, you mean how did she
look
? Good, I suppose. Pretty. She’s a pretty girl. Much prettier than me. As good as Coral sometimes. And Coral is amazing.’
    ‘So, the heroin hadn’t affected her in any… permanent way?’
    ‘Not really. She lost some weight, but she was looking better lately. When she broke up with Clive, she tried to talk me out of smack. She said I was being stupid.’
    ‘And…?’
    ‘Well, she was right, wasn’t she. I’ve always been stupid.’
    Nina was looking at Anne and seeing a social worker, a schoolteacher, a Mum. ‘Thick, that’s me. But I’m not an addict. I’m not. I just need a shot sometimes. Just sometimes.’
    ‘Like now?’
    ‘Yes, ’fraid so.’
    ‘Would you do something for me if I gave you some money?’
    ‘What?’
    Nina was alert now.
    ‘The rich people this afternoon? The “entertainment”?’
    ‘Ye-e-es?’
    ‘I’d like you to help me meet them.’

14
    S he was with a thin, angular young man, who was wearing a slightly too large sports jacket and horn-rimmed glasses. Nobody noticed
him
, but everybody, including the homosexual Lawyer and phallus-worshipping Objectivist, was compelled to stare at
her.
Some fought the urge and carried on talking or eating, intent upon their tableware while their dinner companions’ eyes expanded, but most gave in. Even in a crowd sprinkled with authentic movie stars and frequently pinned-up starlets, she drew glances like a magnet draws iron filings. Without needing to look at the dancing star’s table, he knew that she must be fuming hatred at the new beauty. All movie stars feared their juniors. He was amused again. Nobody in Romanoff ’s, himself included, qualified as the woman’s junior.
    She was, he knew instantly, one of the Kind.
    Her hair, so blonde it seemed in this light to be white, was worn unfashionably long, and her evening dress, off the shoulder and floor-length, simple enough to pass in almost any century. Like him, she wore little jewellery. Like him, she excited attention wherever she went. No matter how hard the Kind might try to camouflage themselves among men, they could not suppress the glamour.
    Mike Romanoff himself seated her, and her protégé, removing a ‘Reserved’ sign from a prime table. For an unknown, she was rating unprecedented treatment.
    Tail Gunner Joe and the Objectivist were still trading names. She was suggesting Communists and fellow travellers from the Screen Writers’ Guild, and he was huffily claiming he had never heard of them. The Junior Senator was greedy for big fish. The Lawyer, he realized, was looking at him and trying to figure something out. It would be impossible for him to