Don’t Know Me.” I thought about Reyes. I wondered where he was, and if he was thinking of me, and what parties he had been invited to, wherever he was in the world.
A couple of days later he sent me a telegram asking me to pick him up at the airport. He was coming home.
It is always the same dream; I am sitting at the kitchen table staring at a loaf of stale bread. The milk I forgot to put back in the refrigerator is now rancid. I have to scrape a jar of peanut jelly with a spoon just to get enough to spread a thin film on the hard bread. There is an envelope lying on the Formica table that I am too terrified to open. Even when the limousine picked me up in the morning to take me to the studio, that same cold dread was there, deep in the pit of my stomach, like cold fat.
The world was a dreadful place. I vowed I would never be poor again.
I stood in the arrivals hall waiting for a man I had known for five years yet hardly knew at all. I had his car but not even a letter for six months. I could feel Papi standing behind me, shaking his head. “What are you doing, cariña ? What did I tell you about this man?”
Someone came up and asked me for my autograph. I figured they thought I was Jayne Russell. But they actually knew my name.
My life was getting stranger by the day. When the year started, I was living in a motel and staring through threadbare curtains at an empty swimming pool. Now I was living in Hollywood and waiting to meet the man of my dreams, in many more ways than one.
And there he was.
He loped through Customs, looking brown, lean and tired. The flight was direct from Hong Kong. It didn’t mean he had been there all this time, or if he had been there at all, except to change planes. What should I do? I wondered. Do I run up to him and throw my arms around him, or do I shake his hand and hand him back the car keys and take a cab home?
Which one of these?
I remembered how he had kissed me before he left, but that was months ago.
“How’s my car?” he said when he saw me. Then he saw the look on my face and scooped me up, grinning. “Good to see you again, princess.”
“It’s good to see you.”
And then he kissed me again, just as he had done months before, and took my breath away all over again.
“You’ve got a tan.”
“Yeah, I was in Florida.”
“Running guns again?”
“You know Florida. There’s a lot of gunplay down there.”
“Liar. When does anyone fly to Florida through Hong Kong. And why is there an opium pipe sticking out of your carry-on?”
“Souvenir of Fort Lauderdale.” I handed him the car keys but he shook his head. “I’m tired, you drive.”
As we were driving away from the airport he ran his hand through my hair and grinned. “You look damn good in this car.”
“I know.”
He settled his sunglasses back on his nose and stretched. “Sure is good to be back.”
“I wasn’t sure you were coming back. No word for six months.”
“I sent you a postcard with all my news. Anyway, you knew I was coming back--you had my Roadster. I’ve been keeping track of you, anyway, I hear you’re a starlet now.”
“I have my own Roadster now, a new one. I’m slumming it in this old heap.”
“This time next year you’ll have your own chauffeur.”
“I thought you might have another girl. You probably have a harem down in Fort Lauderdale.”
“What about you, princess? How is life as a Hollywood starlet? Tell me about the casting couches, the string of handsome leading men you’ve been stringing along, the cocaine and the orgies. Spare me no details. I’ve been living in the jungle for the last year and I’ve been starved of sex and gossip. Shock me.”
His mischievous grin melted me.
“Oh, don’t look so shy. I’ve been keeping up with things while I’ve been away. They tell me the press are calling you the next Marilyn Monroe. You must be fighting them off.”
“It’s you I want, Reyes.”
There, it was
A couple of days later he sent me a telegram asking me to pick him up at the airport. He was coming home.
It is always the same dream; I am sitting at the kitchen table staring at a loaf of stale bread. The milk I forgot to put back in the refrigerator is now rancid. I have to scrape a jar of peanut jelly with a spoon just to get enough to spread a thin film on the hard bread. There is an envelope lying on the Formica table that I am too terrified to open. Even when the limousine picked me up in the morning to take me to the studio, that same cold dread was there, deep in the pit of my stomach, like cold fat.
The world was a dreadful place. I vowed I would never be poor again.
I stood in the arrivals hall waiting for a man I had known for five years yet hardly knew at all. I had his car but not even a letter for six months. I could feel Papi standing behind me, shaking his head. “What are you doing, cariña ? What did I tell you about this man?”
Someone came up and asked me for my autograph. I figured they thought I was Jayne Russell. But they actually knew my name.
My life was getting stranger by the day. When the year started, I was living in a motel and staring through threadbare curtains at an empty swimming pool. Now I was living in Hollywood and waiting to meet the man of my dreams, in many more ways than one.
And there he was.
He loped through Customs, looking brown, lean and tired. The flight was direct from Hong Kong. It didn’t mean he had been there all this time, or if he had been there at all, except to change planes. What should I do? I wondered. Do I run up to him and throw my arms around him, or do I shake his hand and hand him back the car keys and take a cab home?
Which one of these?
I remembered how he had kissed me before he left, but that was months ago.
“How’s my car?” he said when he saw me. Then he saw the look on my face and scooped me up, grinning. “Good to see you again, princess.”
“It’s good to see you.”
And then he kissed me again, just as he had done months before, and took my breath away all over again.
“You’ve got a tan.”
“Yeah, I was in Florida.”
“Running guns again?”
“You know Florida. There’s a lot of gunplay down there.”
“Liar. When does anyone fly to Florida through Hong Kong. And why is there an opium pipe sticking out of your carry-on?”
“Souvenir of Fort Lauderdale.” I handed him the car keys but he shook his head. “I’m tired, you drive.”
As we were driving away from the airport he ran his hand through my hair and grinned. “You look damn good in this car.”
“I know.”
He settled his sunglasses back on his nose and stretched. “Sure is good to be back.”
“I wasn’t sure you were coming back. No word for six months.”
“I sent you a postcard with all my news. Anyway, you knew I was coming back--you had my Roadster. I’ve been keeping track of you, anyway, I hear you’re a starlet now.”
“I have my own Roadster now, a new one. I’m slumming it in this old heap.”
“This time next year you’ll have your own chauffeur.”
“I thought you might have another girl. You probably have a harem down in Fort Lauderdale.”
“What about you, princess? How is life as a Hollywood starlet? Tell me about the casting couches, the string of handsome leading men you’ve been stringing along, the cocaine and the orgies. Spare me no details. I’ve been living in the jungle for the last year and I’ve been starved of sex and gossip. Shock me.”
His mischievous grin melted me.
“Oh, don’t look so shy. I’ve been keeping up with things while I’ve been away. They tell me the press are calling you the next Marilyn Monroe. You must be fighting them off.”
“It’s you I want, Reyes.”
There, it was
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