The Devil You Know, Page 3

  “I don’t know,” Elise said. She stepped back to appraise Marie. “I shouldn’t be seen next to you looking like that.”

  “You’ll do just fine. I’m staying in the background tonight.” Elise had never been shy about her hopes to make it in Hollywood, and tonight was part of that plan. The two had met at Lockheed, but Elise had left not long after Marie for a job in the wardrobe department at Piedmont Pictures. Finally she had managed to wrangle an invitation to a party at the Piedmont mansion high in the Hollywood Hills. It had taken only a bit of cajoling to convince Marie to accompany her and keep her from feeling all alone among the movie stars who would doubtless be there.

  “That’s the plan.” Elise nodded. She gave Marie one more approving look. “Okay, then. Make-up and hair.” She paused, holding up Marie’s left hand. “And jewelry.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Elise tapped the simple wedding band Marie still wore. “This needs to go.”

  “Elise!”

  “Just for tonight.”

  “But why?” Marie asked. “What does it matter? We’re not going there for me. It’s you who’s—” She stopped short, recalling how insistently Elise had wanted her at the party. Elise was not nervous about going; she was the sort of person who could start a conversation with anyone. “You’re hoping I’ll meet somebody,” Marie said resignedly.

  Elise smiled. “Well, I’m hoping I meet someone, too.” When Marie did not return the smile, she added, “Come on. It’s just one evening, one party. Here.” She took a gold chain from her jewelry box. “Put your ring on this. You keep it close to your heart that way, okay?”

  Her smile turned tender now, and Marie bravely returned it. Without second-guessing herself, she tugged at her wedding ring and had to twist it around her finger several times. The skin pulled around the knuckle painfully for a moment before the ring came loose. Aside from the physical discomfort, taking off her wedding ring did not feel as awful as she had imagined, which she took as a sign that she really was ready to do this, in spite of her reluctance. With only a bit of resignation, she put the ring onto the gold chain and let Elise fasten it around her neck. Then she slipped the ring past the neckline of the red dress and let it rest against the pale skin of her bosom.

  “Okay?” Elise asked. When Marie nodded and smiled bravely, she said, “Good. Now we’ve got to do something with your hair. Clark Gable could be there, for all you know.”

  “Gable’s ears are too big,” Marie said. “I’m more partial to Errol Flynn.”

  “Well, he might be there, too. But don’t put Gable down. You know what they say about men with big ears.”

  Marie laughed. “That’s big feet, genius.”

  “Feet, ears, who cares? I just need to get my hands on a man with a Beverly Hills address.”

  “And if he gets his hands on you?”

  “So much the better,” said Elise.

  Chapter Two

  Marie felt the evening air on her back as soon as she stepped out of Elise’s car. A cloud passed before the moon, and moisture from the ocean had blown in as the sun had gone down. Her skin felt damp as she followed Elise across the wide lawn, her heels sinking in with every step as she threaded her way among the dozens of cars parked haphazardly on the grounds. Most looked expensive with the moonlight reflected in their chrome grilles and the bright paint of their big fenders, but a few were the average sort of cars that could be found in the valley below, and one or two looked more shabby than Elise’s tired old Ford.

  Like all the other mansions they had passed while working their way up into the hills above Hollywood, the Piedmont home was immense, a multi-winged Spanish-style that appeared both elegant and audacious. Even in the dark of evening, the house practically glowed, lights blazing from every window. Laughter and swing music poured from it, drawing Elise and Marie across the lawn.

  The front door sat within a small, gated courtyard, and a tall, dark-skinned man with angular features and slightly sunken eyes stood at the entrance to receive invitations. Marie held her breath as Elise handed him her invitation, half expecting him to reject them. But he returned it with a small bow, and she let herself breathe again, relieved. As they walked into the house side by side, she felt Elise reach for her hand and give it a squeeze. They exchanged quick grins and then moved into the party.

  Marie tried not to gape. Beyond the entryway was a large room with red wallpaper and lit by chandeliers. It would have looked sinister had it not been so lively. The young and beautiful of Beverly Hills filled the room, all with drinks in their hands and smiles on their faces. Gowns of blue, green and lavender hugged tight to women’s figures as they fluttered around the room like caged butterflies. Most of the men wore tuxedos and would have looked staid and dower had they not all been laughing and joking. At the far end, straight across from the entrance, several couples danced to a six-piece jazz band. It seemed that everyone not dancing had a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Members of the wait staff moved about discreetly, carrying full trays of food and champagne. Marie and Elise each scooped up glasses as quickly as they could and stood together beside a fireplace that looked bigger than Marie’s bathroom. They whispered and giggled with each other, neither quite sure of what to do now that they had made it inside.

  To the left and right of the entryway, two circular staircases wound up to a corridor on the second floor, and down one of these now came a group of men, all in tuxedos, all smiling broadly. Several partygoers rushed past Marie and Elise to be at the bottom of the stairs when the men reached the ground floor. Marie had never seen Julian Piedmont before, but needed only a quick glance to tell which man was the host. He did not move at the head of the group, but rather let the others surrounded him; he wasn’t tall, but nevertheless exuded a commanding air, with a confident smile and his wavy hair combed back from his forehead. He nodded to the partygoers with a blend of pleasure and indifference, the effect of which was to make people clamor for him all the more.

  Among the men around Piedmont, the ones who led the way seemed similarly self-assured, but not nearly as charismatic. But Marie’s gaze lit on this first row only a moment; she focused on the five men behind them almost immediately, and had a hard time not staring. When Elise nudged her, Marie knew her friend had noticed them as well. They were gorgeous, and any one of them could have rivaled Hollywood’s top stars. Each was tall and broad shouldered, their bodies tapering to slim waists; and amazingly each bore a strange, uncanny resemblance to men Marie was used to seeing on movie screens. It was clear these were not the celebrities themselves, but in some way they actually looked better than the real thing. Clearly they were handsome, confident, and connected enough to be movie stars, but they weren’t—at least not yet—making them all the more intriguing.

  One looked remarkably like Clark Gable, but not the Gable the newsreels had shown in his war uniform; he more closely resembled the Gable from ten or twelve years ago, the one who had taken off his shirt in It Happened One Night and made Marie swoon as a teenager. She watched him come down the stairs, wishing in spite of herself that he would notice her, make eye contact somehow. If he did, she knew she would smile in a way she had not smiled at anyone since Ryan. Her earlier protests forgotten, she pictured herself in his arms and felt herself tilting her head back to be kissed.

  “Do you see what I see?” Elise said, speaking just above a whisper. “I feel like a kid in a candy shop.”

  “I’m beginning to be glad you brought me,” Marie murmured, feeling gleefully self-indulgent as she did.

  The cluster of men reached the bottom of the staircase and dispersed among the crowd. The man who looked like Gable breezed past Marie and Elise, moving toward a vivacious blonde in a pink strapless gown, and Marie felt as though a spell had been broken. The flood of desire she’d been feeling just faded away, leaving her momentarily disoriented. She had borrowed a clutch purse from Elise and reached into it now for her cigarettes, unsteadily offering one to her fr
iend as they ventured away from the fireplace. After a deep drag, she began to feel more herself again and watched with cautious curiosity as the little cadre of handsome men blended into the party.

  She noticed that another of the men, a handsome devil with wavy hair and light blue eyes, seemed to have turned Elise’s head. He made Marie think a bit of James Cagney, and her gaze shifted from the little cluster of women he held court over to Elise, whose eyes were constantly pulled in his direction.

  They ended up in another corner of the room, and Marie deftly set their empty champagne glasses on a passing tray. A crystal ashtray was on a table beside them, and Marie put her cigarette out before saying, “I won’t mind if you want to go over there.”

  “What?” Elise said, clearly taken aback.

  Marie shook her head and smiled. “Don’t try to deny it. You haven’t taken your eyes off that bit of candy for ten seconds since we’ve been here.”

  Elise returned the smile and looked down at the floor. “Sorry,” she said.

  “No, no. It’s okay.” She gave Elise an exaggeratedly patronizing nod. “You’re like the boy who brought his sister to the dance and then sees the girl of his dreams. It would be cruel to make you stay with me.”

  “No, Marie!” Elise protested. “It’s not like that at all. I’m sorry if I’ve been fawning over him. Let’s move to a different room or something, find some bored old executives to dance with us.”

  “I insist,” Marie said. She gave Elise a little shove in the direction of the man. He was lighting another woman’s cigarette now. “Go now, before you lose your chance.”

  Elise took a step in the direction she’d been pushed. “What about you?”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl. Go on.”

  * * * * * * * *

  Marie took a deep breath and fished out another cigarette as she looked out the enormous windows that dominated this side of the room. The house was built on the slope of a hill, so that what seemed like the first floor on one side was high up on the other. The windows before her boasted a magnificent view of the thousand twinkling lights of Los Angeles and Hollywood, as well as a sprawling concrete deck directly below her, complete with kidney-shaped swimming pool. So this is how the other half lives, she thought as she drew deeply on her cigarette and exhaled sharply through pursed lips. She had no doubt that the wee hours of the morning would find drunken guests in the pool, probably with very little clothing on; with a smile, she remembered more modest parties from before the war that had ended not so differently. How I’ve changed, she thought as she put out her cigarette and looked at her watch. It was getting late, and the idea of being at home with a good story to read was suddenly far more attractive to her than the prospect of waiting for Elise to either get lucky or lose out to a starlet with better connections. If she couldn’t talk Elise out of her romantic pursuits, Marie told herself, then she would call for a cab and trust Elise to behave herself.

  During the time she had been on her own at the party, she had amused herself by watching the faces of other partygoers. Some she made nicknames for: Dress-Too-Tight, Gray-Haired-Letch, The Cackler, Almost-Over-The-Hill. As she began searching for Elise, she spotted all of these again but saw neither Elise nor the man she had been angling for. Following a hunch, she found a stairway that led down to the patio, where several revelers now lounged loudly around the pool, empty champagne bottles in planters and floating in the water. Elise was nowhere.

  Back upstairs and a little out of breath, she found herself at the bottom of the curving staircase that Piedmont had descended earlier. About to walk past it to scan the main room once more for Elise, she glanced up to see Elise’s James Cagney look-alike coming downstairs toward her. She expected to see Elise coming down behind him, but when he reached the bottom, Elise still hadn’t appeared.

  “Excuse me,” Marie said, approaching him and putting her hand out. She almost touched his forearm, but stopped short. Being this close to him, she immediately knew what Elise had seen in him. His wide eyes were deep and blue, and the wavy hair just begged for her to run her fingers through it. She felt her heart flutter just a little at the thought, forgetting for the moment that her best friend had staked this one as her own, had just been upstairs with him doing God knew what.

  He had been looking distantly toward the crowd when she had stepped up to him, like he was looking for someone in particular. When Marie caught his attention, his expression changed completely, and she saw his gaze move from her face to her bust to her hips and legs, and then back up again. She blushed as he smiled slyly at her now, the look on his face making him seem literally hungry for her. At any other time, Marie would have felt repulsed at being so obviously ogled, but there was something disarming about him that made her feel flattered now. For a second, she almost forgot why she had stopped him, but when he spoke, he broke the spell. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  “Yes,” she said, achingly aware that she was blushing. Her voice came out weakly and higher pitched than usual. “I was looking for my friend.” When he simply smiled, she added, “Elise.”

  The man shook his head. “I’m not sure I know who you mean. But I’d be glad to help you find her.” He reached a hand out for hers, and she felt how easy it would be to take it and let him lead her wherever he wanted.

  Marie pulled her hand in close and grabbed it with the other, making it clear she was not going anywhere with him. “You’ve been with her most of the night,” she said. “Tall redhead. Blue dress.” She raised an eyebrow.

  “Sounds lovely,” he said, but then shook his head. “But I…” He smiled at her again and quickly repeated his appraisal from head to toe. “I’m thinking more about red dresses now.”

  Stunned, Marie mumbled, “Excuse me,” and rushed past him, almost running up the stairs. Sure the man had been lying about Elise, Marie began to feel panicked as she bolted up to the next floor. But by the time she got to the landing, her heart was racing, not just because of the stairs or her irrational fears, but also because she found herself strongly desiring the man, horrid though he was.

  His comment about her dress resonated in her mind, and she could not stop thinking about the way he had looked at her. She had never slapped a man for getting fresh, but had it been any other time or any other man, she would have done exactly that. Not this man, though. A bit ashamed to admit it, she recognized that his gaze and comments had filled her with a strange longing unlike anything she had ever experienced with Ryan or anyone else. The thought thrilled and scared her, and she stood there for a few minutes collecting herself. She knew she should move on down the hallway, but also wondered if the man at the bottom of the stairs might be following her up even now—and what she would do if he was.

  It took several moments for her to feel in control again; even then, she moved haltingly away from the landing, a bit unsteady on her feet. It was the champagne, she told herself, but another part of her knew it was more. The carpet she walked on was ornately patterned in red and orange, creating a soft glow on the white walls. No less than a dozen oak doors opened off the hallway, all to her right, opposite three giant windows that looked out on the black night. Stopping at the first of these, Marie looked down to see the tree-lined grounds at the front of the estate and the dozens of cars parked on the grass. Elise’s car was one of them. She wished now that they had never left it to come into the party.

  She had no doubt that the doors along the hallway opened onto bedrooms, and was certain that Elise’s new friend had brought her here and then left her when they had completed their tryst. Marie had never known Elise to do anything like this, but it didn’t totally surprise her. She hoped that one of the doors would open any second and that Elise would emerge, a bit shame-faced but all right, and that they could just head down the stairs and out to the car without having to see or talk to anyone else. If Elise didn’t want to talk about it, so be it, Marie thought.

  She waited a few minutes more, but no doors opened
, nor did she have any idea which Elise might be behind. Downstairs, the band had started playing “Let’s Face the Music and Dance,” and the steady rhythm of the bass carried up into the hallway. It gave her the strangest sensation; below her, all those people were dancing and laughing, and here she was feeling utterly alone. There were only two things she could do now to get out of this situation: turn tail and leave Elise to fend for herself, or start opening doors. Even as she considered her options, she knew that only one of them was really open to her.

  The first knob she tried was locked. When she put her ear to the door, she heard a man grunting rhythmically and quickly backed away. Unless Elise had found a second man, Marie had no business with whoever was on the receiving end of those grunts. She moved on.

  The next door was unlocked. She stood beside it for a moment, her ear pressed to it before turning the knob. She heard nothing and knocked lightly. Getting no response, she opened the door a foot and peered inside. The room was not empty. It was dimly lit, and she caught a glimpse of people on the bed before pulling her head back out and mumbling, “Sorry.”

  “Wait,” came a man’s voice from inside the room, and though she knew she should close the door, she felt compelled to stand there for a moment, able now to see shadows moving in the low light. “Why don’t you join us?” the man said from inside the room, sounding much closer to the door than when he had first spoken. A second later, Marie’s fingers released the doorknob as she felt it pulled inward. In the dim light, she would have sworn she was looking at Errol Flynn, or rather, a man who looked remarkably like the actor. He stood two feet away from her, completely naked, his erect penis bobbing in front of him, practically beckoning to Marie. Her eyes were drawn to it involuntarily, and she forced herself to look up into the man’s face. There was sweat on his brow and chest, and she could see now that there were three naked women on the bed waiting for him to return. “Our little party’s just starting,” he said. “There’s always room for one more.”