Three weeks at Karen’s had been an education. Val had learnt a whole new vocabulary since her exposure to the gay-straight-bi scene of New York City, and that described most of Karen’s friends, who were interesting, to say the least. There was always another invitation to another must-attend charity affair, gallery opening, or new club that couldn’t be missed. They got along extremely well. So many of Karen’s acquaintances where famous or infamous that Val felt at ease with them, accepted for herself rather than for who she was. Karen’s stash of pills and grass helped. She always seemed to have something on hand to make Val feel happier or sleep better.
Val’s picture still smiled from every newsstand in the city, and privately she still got a big kick out of it, yet she’d come to enjoy the feeling of being what she considered an ordinary person. The city helped; New Yorkers were used to walking down the street and seeing a famous face. Everyone had their own agenda and getting across town took most of their time and energy, seldom leaving them time to waste on something as trivial as another person.
When Val’s agent called and said she was booked on The Tonight Show, her usual nerves weren’t so apparent. Before she went to the taping, she took a greenie with a new yellow pill Karen had introduced her to: Valium. She loved the way she felt on that setup.
The show was taped live in the early evening. Joe went with her to work his magic. He watched her on the monitor in the Green Room. Her blonde hair framed her face, and when the camera went in for a close-up, her enormous eyes—accented with dark blue shadow and false eyelashes—were as blue as Paul Newman’s. Joe had chosen her wardrobe: a royal-blue, silk charmeuse, low-cut blouse with no bra; a black, suede hip-hugger miniskirt; royal-blue tights; and platform, ankle-strap shoes. She pulled it off, looking young, hip, and yet somehow sophisticated.
Her dry sense of humor came across immediately, especially when she described to the host, Johnny Carson, how different the English and American languages really were.
“I recently told a friend I was going to have a lay in. I honestly thought they knew I meant I was going to stay in bed. Well they didn’t.”
This got a big laugh.
“That wasn’t the worst of it. I then asked another friend to help me lay the table.”
She didn’t have to finish. The audience roared. Joe was sitting in the Green Room with the other celebrity guests who were waiting to go on. He sat listening as some really big names raved at the way she handled Johnny and the audience. They all agreed she had that special charisma that no one can learn or buy. “The camera loved her” was one cliché that in Val’s case was one hundred percent true. The show went off without a hitch with Johnny asking her to “please come back soon”—a line that most guests would have given their eyeteeth to hear him say.
As soon as Karen had heard Val was doing The Tonight Show, she’d planned a get-together at her place for the viewing. Whenever a party of any significance was thrown, the word on the New York grapevine traveled faster than the speed of light. Before you knew it, someone who knew someone invited someone who knew someone else, and at least two hundred of your nearest and dearest arrived at your door, ready to party.
The first arrivals that evening were designers accompanied by models wearing their latest creations. It was a spectacular fashion show. Afro’s had never been bigger, platforms had never been higher, pants had never been tighter, colors had never been more vivid. It was a feast for the eyes. The nonstop parade began: girls with boys, boys with boys, girls with girls, plus a few interesting loner types who wandered in and seemed happy to claim a corner and be voyeurs for the night. Some artists from the Village, still in there paint-spattered jeans, brought their rich patrons to taste a real New York City party. The onslaught didn’t stop.
Images moved silently across three TV screens in Karen’s huge, crowded living room. The very latest mix of dance music, taped personally by a delightful little fairy named Roger, blasted throughout the apartment. Roger was in charge of music at the best discotheque in town. His tapes were being bootlegged, by him, for enormous amounts of money. He was very high on life at that moment, spending most of his new wealth on furs and jewels and wearing it all. He was about to do the soundtrack for an important underground movie that he insisted was being shot as he spoke. He eagerly told the crowd how his ear for music had finally been appreciated and accepted as an “art form.”
Being “totally into” something was the mantra of the moment. Many of the people there really were the artists of the day. Andy Warhol with his bevy of beauties—Val’s first introduction to transvestites and sex changes—was being congratulated on his film of someone sleeping for eight hours. One woman—surrounded by a mix of women, some dressed in men’s suits and blazers while others wore dresses and makeup—was indeed a published law professor who wrote lesbian pornography novels to subsidize herself. Another women was related to Gertrude Stein, and sorry to say, there was indeed a family resemblance. Poor little rich girls still existed. One young heiress to millions stumbled around on downs. She was the topic of conversation among all the people on uppers who couldn’t stop talking.
Nobody seemed to drink much anymore and the drinkers stood out like sore thumbs. They still liked their vodka: Stoli, 100 proof, kept in the freezer.
This unique cast of characters filled the apartment. The air was full of smoke and the wonderful aroma of good grass permeated the place. It was so strong, all you had to do was inhale to get high—a contact high they called it. Val remembered a few days earlier when she’d heard the phrase for the first time; she’d thought they were talking about taking a couple of Contac cold pills.
Val was hanging out with some gay boys who had auditioned for her show. They were hopefully going to be in the chorus. They adored her; she was their queen.
“Tommy, what’s with that group over there? They don’t look too happy.”
“Au contraire my dear, that one’s ex-lover is now doing it with that one’s ex-lover from last year. They want their exes to know how happy they are since they broke up and moved on. They’re dishing, that’s all.”
To Val, it looked like war had been declared between them. When Joe dished, she found it funny. From what Val had seen, when those people dished it was vicious.
She tried not to glance at the TV screens. The show was about to air in fifteen minutes. She was getting more and more uptight and wished she hadn’t gone along with the idea of having a party.
One group of boys hadn’t taken their eyes off her since they’d arrived. They stopped speaking whenever she went near them. She fluffed it off, blaming the grass, telling herself she was just being paranoid. She looked around for Joe. He was nowhere to be seen, and Karen who was busy playing hostess, and mingling madly had hardly said two words to her all evening. Val excused herself from her chorus boys and darted for the bathroom. It was full. She went to Karen’s bedroom. A couple on the bed didn’t even notice her. She was standing there feeling foolish, when Karen walked out of her dressing room followed closely by a girl who looked like she had just stepped off the cover of European Vogue.
“Phew, that was good timing, Val. One minute earlier and I would never have known what true love really is! Meet Zaria.”
Karen with a woman! Her too. Was the whole world gay? Val knew of the men in Karen’s life; she’d been engaged and even had an abortion at one time. She herself had only known one man, Nicky, and had gone to bed with him because she loved him. These people seemed to change lovers and bed partners like they changed their clothes. Man, woman, it didn’t seem to matter.
“What’s wrong, precious? You look upset.”
“I’m a wreck. The show will be on in a few minutes and I don’t think I can handle it with all those people. They look like vultures and I’m the prey.”
“Lovey, you’re stoned that’s all. I know just what you need.”
With that Karen’s now famous antique watch appeared. She flipped it open with expertise, and out came a Valium.
“Swallow this, precious. Right now, come on. Promise, you’ll be fine.”
Val popped it in her mouth without hesitating and washed it down with some white wine.
“Now, my love, come with me and Zaria. We’ll take up position center stage and ignore them all. Most of them don’t exist for me anyway.”
She and Zaria laughed; Val, still at panic stage, envied them.
“Come on, Val. Ve vill protect you from zees ‘orrible creatures out zer. You vill be safe vid us.”
Zaria didn’t speak; she purred, sounding like Lisbeth Scott with a German accent. Not only did she have that amazing voice, she must have been six foot tall without heels and gorgeous!
“How do you feel?”
“I think I feel a bit better.”
“Good. We still have time for a little toke.”
Karen lit a J and by the time they’d had a few puffs, the combination of Valium, wine, and a J kicked in, the three of them were feeling no pain. As far as Val was concerned, Karen with her magic watch and chain was better than any doctor she’d ever known.
The three beauties entered the living room to a standing ovation. They bowed and curtsied their way to the center of the room and sat down on the carpet. Pillows were brought to the trio, and a popper was put under their noses. After the first rush from the popper, they fell into uncontrollable fits of laughter. Everyone was either dancing, kissing, or laughing madly. At that moment, Val appeared on the TV screens. Someone turned up the volume. Someone else yelled.
“Let’s stay up and never come down.”
Someone else yelled.
“We must watch the TV!”
Someone else yelled.
“Fuck the TV!”
Everyone cheered. Karen was kissing Val, and Zaria was stroking her hair. She was acutely aware of it all and loving each sensation. At one point, she glanced over Karen’s shoulder and caught a glimpse of herself on the screen. She pointed at the TV. She was about to say something about Nicky, like how much she loved him, and how much she loved New York and didn’t agree with the stories she’d heard about it being unfriendly and cold. Nobody heard any of it. Karen grabbed her and kissed her again. This brought more cheers from the crowd. Someone yelled.
“What would Nicky say to that?”
“Peter would know if anyone would.”
“Well, Peter. What would he say?”
“I think Nicky would say thanks Karen for keeping the little bitch busy and off his back.”
This was said when the volume in the room for some unknown reason, had subsided. Everyone seemed to have heard what Peter said. Suddenly, you could have heard a pin drop. Peter’s friends laughed loudly trying to cover for him, but it was no good. Val didn’t seem bothered and couldn’t have cared less, but Karen, wired up on coke, her favorite drug of the week, jumped up and went for him. Her hand slapped Peter’s face so hard it jerked his head. She let her fingernails drag down his handsome face and he screamed. He pushed her off. She lost her balance and fell on some people. Her rage was completely out of hand by then. She stood up trying to regain her composure.
“You little worm. You horrible, fading queen. Get out of my house. You are below the level of shit. Get out of my life! You’re nothing but a jellyfish with no balls. You prissy faggot! You make me sick. Get out! Now!”
Peter touched his bleeding cheek.
“You stupid cunt; look what you’ve done! You’re damn right! I can’t wait to get out of this sickness you call home.”
He reached the door, turned back, and hissed.
“My lawyer will be in touch with you tomorrow. You’ll be sorry for this. And as for that little piece of blonde trash you’re all sucking up to. If anything, I feel sorry for her. You’ll be her friend as long as her picture’s on the front of magazines. Then you’ll drop her like she’s poison.”
Peter turned and looked directly at Val.
“I’m going to tell you something, Miss Blonde Trash, before one of your so-called friends sidles up to you one cold night and whispers it in your ear. Nicky and I were lovers! Yes, my dear it’s true. Beware of these creatures. I was darling of the season once. You will be making an exit like this in the not too distant future.”
Proudly, he turned and left, slamming the door behind him.