“Phil, this is Bonnie. Bonnie, this is Phil Cafagna, head of purchasing for Pacific Pharmacy.”
A silvery-haired man in a silvery three-piece suit kissed Bonnie’s hand and said, “Charmed. I always said that Ralph had exceptional taste.”
“Bonnie’s been doing some really excellent work for us, Phil. Helped to boost our turnover by over six percent this year.”
“Well, I can see why.” Phil smiled. He was deeply tanned, with glittery blue eyes, and he vaguely reminded Bonnie of Blake Carrington in Dynasty. His hair appeared to be ruffled up into two demonic horns, and on closer inspection Bonnie realized that it was a hairpiece.
“I’ll catch you later, Bonnie.” Phil winked at her and walked away across the hotel lobby.
Ralph said, sotto voce, “You need to watch yourself with that guy. He gives wolves a bad name.”
“He’s not much of an advertisement for toupees, either.”
Ralph pressed his finger to his lips. “If Phil Cafagna likes what he sees, he can turn our whole business around. Pacific Pharmacy has two-hundred-eighty outlets, under different names, all the way from Eureka to San Diego.”
“So long as that doesn’t mean I have to run my hands through his rug.”
Bonnie and Ralph were standing in line in the blue-carpeted lobby of the Ramada Inn on East Colorado Boulevard, in Pasadena. The lobby was already crowded with buyers and salespeople from dozens of different stores and pharmacies, and there was an overwhelming smell of heavy-duty perfume. Bonnie was wearing her pink waxed-cotton suit, but compared with the rest of the cosmetics representatives, she felt distinctly underdressed and under made-up. Ralph had bought himself a natty new sports coat and fastened an orchid in his lapel, but the cuffs of his pants were still swinging an inch above his Gucci loafers.
“Okay, here’s how it goes. Our main presentation is at seven … then there’s cocktails and general mingling, with six separate demonstrations and a special Moist-Your-Eyes promotion. We can run through it as soon as we’ve checked in.”
“Ralph … I want to thank you for giving me another chance.”
“Don’t be stupid. I shouldn’t have fired you in the first place. You have a family, after all.”
“Well, it’s kind of a family.”
“Still having problems with Duke?”
“How do you know about that?”
“We work in a small company, Bonnie. There isn’t much I don’t know. Especially when it affects somebody I really care about.”
“Yes, well. Things will work themselves out.”
The Glamorex evening went even better than Bonnie had expected. All of the products had been filmed at well-known soap-opera locations, and each had a passionate, panting soap opera-style script that told a woman how she could use My Mystery eye shadow to make herself look like a millionairess or Angel Glitter body lotion to win over the hunk of her dreams. Young girls in glittering sequin minidresses performed a funky dance routine at the Insomnia coffee house from The Bold and the Beautiful to show off the new range of Disco Nights nail polish. Two sophisticated couples dined at The Colonnade Room from The Young and the Restless to promote Loving Embrace hairspray.
After the video presentation, waiters brought round sparkling wine and canapés. Two professional beauticians, twin sisters, demonstrated all of Glamorex’s new lines. Ralph privately called them The Lobotomized Barbies. Phil Cafagna came up to Bonnie after she had given her spiel about Moist-Your-Eyes and raised his glass to her.
“You’re quite a commercial asset, Bonnie. Ralph’s a lucky man.”
“He’s a good boss, Mr. Cafagna.”
“Oh, call me Phil, for Christ’s sake. How about a glass of wine?”
He lifted a glass from a passing tray and handed it to her. “Let’s drink to something,” he said. “Here’s to the real face that hides behind the painted mask.”
Bonnie wasn’t sure what he meant, but she clinked glasses with him anyhow.
“How about you, Bonnie?” he asked. “What’s your face really like, when you’re not selling Glamorex cosmetics? What kinda person are you?”
“I’m a wife and a mother.”
“I didn’t mean that. Being a wife and a mother defines your relationship with other people. That doesn’t tell me what kind of a person you are.”
“I’m not so sure that I know what kind of person I am. A good one, I hope. Somebody who looks after other people when they need me the most.”
“I’m sure you do. You strike me as a deeply caring woman. But you also strike me as a woman who’s never had the opportunity to break free and be herself.”
Bonnie gave him a little shake of her head to indicate that she didn’t really understand what he was talking about.
He took hold of her arm and walked her toward the French windows. Outside the night was breezy and warm, and Bonnie could hear music playing from the ballroom.
“I work with women all day, every day, and I think I know something about them,” said Phil. “These days, they have their careers and they have their independence and they can do pretty much anything they like. But do you know something? They’re still trapped. Everybody’s trapped, until they can find somebody to set them free. That’s what you need, Bonnie. You need somebody to give you the key and let you out.”
They strolled along the covered cloisters, with the overhanging creeper rustling softly. The band was playing a syrupy version of Lyle Lovett’s song “Nobody Knows Me,” and for the first time in years, Bonnie felt peaceful and relaxed and even romantic.
“How about another glass of wine?” Phil suggested.
“I don’t think so. We have an early breakfast tomorrow. Then we have to be getting back to L.A.”
Phil stopped and looked her straight in the eye. “You’re a great-looking woman, Bonnie. You’ve got everything going for you. It really disturbs me to see a woman like you in so much pain.”
“I’m not in pain, Phil. I’m an ordinary workingwoman like every other ordinary workingwoman.”
“You think so? I know pain. I can feel pain a mile off.”
Bonnie shrugged. “I can’t say that I don’t have problems.”
“Your husband never sees you for what you are.”
“To be frank with you, Phil, I don’t think he sees me at all.”
“Your kids give you nothing but trouble.”
“Kid. We only have one—Ray, he’s seventeen. But what can you expect? All kids are trouble when they’re growing up.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Do? What do you expect me to do? I’m going to go home tomorrow just like always.”
“Supposing I said don’t.”
“I have to go home, Phil. What else would I do?”
“You could spend the rest of the week with me. We could go sailing off Catalina Island. We could walk on the seashore and eat lobster dinners and drink champagne.”
Bonnie smiled and shook her head.
“I’ll tell you something, Bonnie,” said Phil. “A lot of people think that I’m some kind of Casanova, picking up women and taking them to bed and then going on to the next. But the fact of the matter is that I can’t stand to see women who never get the chance to be themselves. Their husbands don’t allow them to break free because they’ll be too demanding; and their employers don’t allow them to break free because they might ask for what they really deserve. So on they go, year after year, until one day they realize that practically their whole life has passed them by, and they’ve lost their looks, and all they’ve got to look forward to is old age. That’s a prison sentence, in my book.
“I get my kicks out of letting women out on parole. I get my kicks out of showing them what exciting and interesting and attractive people they really are. Sometimes there’s sex and sometimes there isn’t. That’s not important. What’s important is the sheer joy of flinging the cell door open and saying, ‘Come on, come out and play for a while. No strings, no responsibilities, no recriminations. Just let yourself dance around in the open air.’”
Bonnie finished the last of her sparkling wine. Then she stood on tiptoe and gave Phil a kiss on each cheek. “Can I say something?” she said.
“Sure. You’re a free agent. You may not believe it, but you can say whatever you want.”
“No strings, no responsibilities, no recriminations?”
“Not a one.”
“What you said to me just then … about letting me out on parole … that’s the most patronizing bullshit I ever heard in my entire life.”
She was smiling so sweetly that—for three full seconds—he didn’t realize what she had said to him. Then, gradually, his face went through a complicated series of changes, as if it were searching for an expression that would allow him to continue talking to her with as much dignity as possible.
“You think that’s patronizing bullshit?” he said, at last. His voice was controlled, but there was an unmistakable edge in it.
“In my opinion, yes. Speaking as somebody who works with men all day, every day.”
“In that case, I guess you and I won’t be spending the night together, then?”
“I think that’s highly unlikely.”
“I see. Just like it’s highly unlikely that Pacific Pharmacy is going to place a single order for Glamorex cosmetics?”
“What is that, a threat?”
“No, darling. You should know. It’s just patronizing bullshit.”
She found Ralph in the bar, happily knocking back whiskey sours. She sat down next to him and asked the barman for a white wine spritzer. Actually she felt like a beer, but she was thinking about her figure.
“Let’s celebrate,” said Ralph, raising his glass. “We’ve taken more orders tonight than we’ve taken in the past six months. And I give you most of the credit.”
“Ralph—”
“Don’t be modest. You were terrific. You had Phil Cafagna eating out of your hand. I can’t even believe that I thought about firing you. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?”
“Ralph, there’s nothing to forgive.”
“Oh, but there is. The truth is, Bonnie, I was jealous. I wanted to take you to Pasadena, but then you couldn’t go because you had a husband and a son. And I admit it: I was jealous.”
“Ralph, you don’t have anything to be jealous about.”
“Yes, I do.” He leaned forward and focused his eyes on her as if he were trying to make absolutely sure that he was talking to the right person. “I’m in love with you, Bonnie. That’s the point. I’ve been in love you ever since I first saw you, except that I love you twice as much now as I did then, if that makes any sense.”
“Ralph, you’ve had too many whiskey sours.”
“Of course I have. But they’ve given me the courage to tell you how I really feel, that’s all. You’re the most desirable woman I’ve ever met.”
“I’m very flattered, Ralph, but you’re a married man and I’m a married woman.”
“What difference does that make? You know and I know that we’re both married to the wrong people.”
“Ralph, there’s something I have to tell you. Something very serious.”
“Ssh, don’t say anything. Don’t spoil the illusion.”
“What illusion?”
“The illusion that people might have that you and I are sitting here as a couple, and that when we’ve finished these drinks we’re going to take a bottle of champagne upstairs and go to bed together.”
“That’s some illusion.”
Ralph took off his glasses. “Is it?” he asked her.