her. He naturally assumed that when the movie was over, and Acapulco loomed closer, that he had only to snap his fingers, and Martha would discard Jim without a second’s hesitation.
Martha, when she was with Teddy, exulted in the excitement he aroused in her. But when she was with Jim she felt more comfortable, cozier. She could imagine settling down with him one day.
The specific problem she and Jim were encountering tonight was that she was hellbent on having a good time and Jim, despite his pirate outfit, seemed not to be in the spirit of the occasion. In fact, he was downright peevish and irritable. He wouldn’t dance with her, and he made it clear that he resented her dancing with anybody else.
“You’re a drag,” Martha said and went off to dance anyhow, but for fear of agitating him further she made certain only to dance with flamboyant homosexuals who delighted in bedecking themselves in wild regalia: chains, keys hanging out, leather jackets, leather pants, leather boots, impenetrable dark glasses, motorcycle helmets, or sometimes just about nothing at all except some tiny trace of cloth that wound about their loins but left the cheeks of their buttocks fully revealed.
When she returned to Jim, she was drenched with sweat but happy and excited, and she wanted him to be excited, too. She wrapped her arms around him and drew him close to her. “Hey, Captain Kidd, what’s wrong?” She kissed him, brushing his face with the vinyl of her mask.
“Nothing.”
Refusing to release him, she said, “That’s not true. You’ve been acting weird all night. What is it, something to do with the film?” She knew it wasn’t the film, but she wanted to get him talking.
“Not the film. Nothing to do with the film.”
“Then what?”
He could be restrained no longer. “There’s somebody else,” he declared, spitting the words out.
“What do you mean someone else?” she asked, feigning astonishment, though she knew exactly what he meant.
“Just what I said. You’re seeing another man.”
She promptly denied the accusation. “What led you to think that?”
“I can tell, I know.”
“Have you been following me around?”
“Then it’s true.”
“I didn’t say it was true. It’s not true. But I want to know whether you’ve been spying on me.” What she was thinking was: I’ve already got Teddy spying on me, I don’t need another one.
“Do you think I would have to spy on you to figure out you’ve been having it off with someone else. People have eyes, you know. They talk.”
“Talk? Who talks? Margo? Sandy? Peter?” She was naming possible suspects among the cast and crew who might, just might, have heard something and who were too untrustworthy to keep a secret long.
“You’re only digging yourself in deeper, Martha. You’re as much as admitting you are. You are screwing another man, who is he?”
“I am not going to engage in this conversation a moment more.”
She was furious, furious that her evening was being ruined and that her juggling act with Teddy and Jim might be in jeopardy. She decided that she would terminate the argument before it grew too heated.
So she wheeled about and stormed off into the crowd. At first Jim stood and watched her, then he rushed after her.
“Come back.”
He caught hold of her arm.
“I’m going home.”
“Let me take you.”
“No.”
It was impossible to carry on a conversation like this, since both of them were constantly being buffeted by dancers who weren’t very happy about tripping over them.
Unlike the man Jim Corona played in the movie, the real-life Jim Corona could not persuade Martha either to remain with him or to allow him to accompany her.
He did not believe that she intended to go home. In fact, that was her plan. She wanted to mull things over, figure out how she could allay Jim’s suspicions while at the same time determine whether there was a leak on the part of someone on the set or whether Jim was just acting
Martha, when she was with Teddy, exulted in the excitement he aroused in her. But when she was with Jim she felt more comfortable, cozier. She could imagine settling down with him one day.
The specific problem she and Jim were encountering tonight was that she was hellbent on having a good time and Jim, despite his pirate outfit, seemed not to be in the spirit of the occasion. In fact, he was downright peevish and irritable. He wouldn’t dance with her, and he made it clear that he resented her dancing with anybody else.
“You’re a drag,” Martha said and went off to dance anyhow, but for fear of agitating him further she made certain only to dance with flamboyant homosexuals who delighted in bedecking themselves in wild regalia: chains, keys hanging out, leather jackets, leather pants, leather boots, impenetrable dark glasses, motorcycle helmets, or sometimes just about nothing at all except some tiny trace of cloth that wound about their loins but left the cheeks of their buttocks fully revealed.
When she returned to Jim, she was drenched with sweat but happy and excited, and she wanted him to be excited, too. She wrapped her arms around him and drew him close to her. “Hey, Captain Kidd, what’s wrong?” She kissed him, brushing his face with the vinyl of her mask.
“Nothing.”
Refusing to release him, she said, “That’s not true. You’ve been acting weird all night. What is it, something to do with the film?” She knew it wasn’t the film, but she wanted to get him talking.
“Not the film. Nothing to do with the film.”
“Then what?”
He could be restrained no longer. “There’s somebody else,” he declared, spitting the words out.
“What do you mean someone else?” she asked, feigning astonishment, though she knew exactly what he meant.
“Just what I said. You’re seeing another man.”
She promptly denied the accusation. “What led you to think that?”
“I can tell, I know.”
“Have you been following me around?”
“Then it’s true.”
“I didn’t say it was true. It’s not true. But I want to know whether you’ve been spying on me.” What she was thinking was: I’ve already got Teddy spying on me, I don’t need another one.
“Do you think I would have to spy on you to figure out you’ve been having it off with someone else. People have eyes, you know. They talk.”
“Talk? Who talks? Margo? Sandy? Peter?” She was naming possible suspects among the cast and crew who might, just might, have heard something and who were too untrustworthy to keep a secret long.
“You’re only digging yourself in deeper, Martha. You’re as much as admitting you are. You are screwing another man, who is he?”
“I am not going to engage in this conversation a moment more.”
She was furious, furious that her evening was being ruined and that her juggling act with Teddy and Jim might be in jeopardy. She decided that she would terminate the argument before it grew too heated.
So she wheeled about and stormed off into the crowd. At first Jim stood and watched her, then he rushed after her.
“Come back.”
He caught hold of her arm.
“I’m going home.”
“Let me take you.”
“No.”
It was impossible to carry on a conversation like this, since both of them were constantly being buffeted by dancers who weren’t very happy about tripping over them.
Unlike the man Jim Corona played in the movie, the real-life Jim Corona could not persuade Martha either to remain with him or to allow him to accompany her.
He did not believe that she intended to go home. In fact, that was her plan. She wanted to mull things over, figure out how she could allay Jim’s suspicions while at the same time determine whether there was a leak on the part of someone on the set or whether Jim was just acting
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