Death of a Blue Movie Star

She led him into the large, tiled room. It was chrome and white. In the center of the ceiling was a large steel rack hanging from chains. Dozens of heavy copper pans and bowls hung from it.

"This'll work just fine."

"We had it redone last year."

He looked over the room. "We can use those pans. Copper looks good on camera."

Together they began assembling the camera and lights.

Nicole asked, "Was it hard for you to, you know, get out of the business?"

"Out of porn? Yeah, financially it was a pain. What I did was assist at some film companies for a while."

"Like what Rune's doing?"

"Rune? Oh, that girl. Yeah, like her. And eventually I started getting some jobs as a cameraman, then I directed some documentaries."

"I'd like to act. I keep thinking I could take lessons. I mean, how hard can it be? Shelly had a good coach. Arthur Tucker. She said he helped her a lot. I don't know why he hasn't been around. He didn't go to the memorial service. I thought he would've called."

"The coach?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know," Tommy said. "When somebody dies it makes people feel funny. They can't deal with it." He turned to her, examined her closely. "You should act. You should be always in front of the camera. You're very beautiful."

Their eyes met for a moment. A copper bowl paused in Nicole's hand. She looked away.

He finished assembling the camera and lights. Nicole watched him, the smooth, efficient way he handled the equipment. She leaned against the island, absently spinning the round-bottomed copper bowl. She looked down at its hypnotizing motion.

"I know Shelly got some kind of kick out of the porn films she made but, all in all, I don't see why she didn't give it up."

"Because," Tommy said, stepping next to her, "she was a whore. Just like you." And he brought the long, lead pipe down on the back of Nicole's head.

CHAPTER TWENTY

They ended up at her houseboat.

First, after the country-western club they were drenched with sweat so they decided it'd make sense to go for a walk. Then a cool night breeze came up as they were walking in the West Village and that made Healy suggest coffee nearby and they went to a cappuccino place on Hudson Street with a fountain where water spit out of a goat's head into a trough filled with coins.

One of the coins was an Indian head nickel and Rune spent a couple minutes nonchalantly fishing the coin out while Healy tried to distract the waitress.

"Hmm," Healy muttered. "Petty larceny. And I'm an accessory."

She retrieved the coin and then wrung the slimy fountain water out of her sleeve. "It was in deeper than I'd thought."

After that they'd walked another five or six blocks and found themselves not far from her boat.

"I only live three blocks away."

"Where?" he asked.

"In the river."

He looked at her for the standard five seconds before asking the standard question. "In the river?"

"I have a houseboat."

"I don't believe you. Nobody's got a houseboat in New York. This I've got to see."

Which was a line that'd been tried on her before.

Not that it mattered. She was going to invite him home anyway.

After the tour of the houseboat Rune looked for something to offer him. Beer didn't seem right after coffee and her only bottle of brandy had been capped with foil a year or two ago and a dark residue floated in the bottom.

"Sorry." She held up the bottle.

"Bud's fine."

They stood on the deck, looking over at New Jersey, feeling the nerves in their legs click from all the dancing and feeling tired and energized at the same time.

She wasn't quite sure what started it. She remembered saying something about the stars, which you couldn't see very well because of the city lights, but they were both looking up, and then there was his face filling the sky as it moved toward her and they were kissing, pretty serious kissing too.

She felt the slight prickle of his mustache, then his lips, and she felt his arms going around her. She'd expected he'd maybe be more cautious, like feeling his way along a pipe bomb, ready to jump back at any moment.

But he wasn't that way at all. No reluctance, no hesitation. She guessed maybe she was the first girl he'd kissed like this since Cheryl had left. She knew he wanted her. Her arms went tight around his neck.

She maneuvered them into the bedroom.

A huge stuffed dragon sat in the middle of the bed.

"A monster," he said.

"A friendly monster."

"What's his name?"

"Her name is Persephone."

"My apologies."

Rune picked up the dragon and held the mouth up to her ear.

"She forgives you. She even likes you."

For a moment nothing moved, neither of them spoke. Then he knelt on the bed.

Her arms went around him, kissing hard, pressing, hands hungry. The dragon was still in between them. She considered making a joke about it. About something coming between them, ha, ha, but he was kissing her fast, urgently.

Rune grabbed the toy and dropped it on the floor.

*****