Four Blondes

“Had your good summer, luv?”

“Oh yes. And I didn’t even have to spank anyone.”

“Harold my darling.” She bent over and gave him a hug.

“I so wish this was your day, crazy kid. Maybe next year, huh?”

“Maybe,” Janey said. She looked up past the crowd. A large chauf-feured Mercedes was pulling into the driveway. The driver hopped out and opened the door. Comstock got out, stretched, and looked around. Then the driver went around to the other side. He must have brought the movie star with him, Janey thought, but instead, a tall, dark-haired woman got out. She came happily around the back of the car. Comstock took her hand.

“Janey! You look so pretty!” Allison said. She leaned in. “Did you see Zack Manners? He looks terrible. You must be so happy you’re not with him. I heard he was pulled over for drunk driving and got caught stuffing a vial of cocaine into his sock. Socks! In the summer! When is your house over?”

“Tomorrow,” Janey said. “But my landlord said I could have it for an extra day.”

“Goodie. I’ll come and visit you,” Allison said.

“Sure,” Janey said. She watched Comstock approaching out of the corner of her eye. She knew that woman he was with . . . why was he holding her hand and whispering in her ear . . . he looked so pleased with himself, and so did she . . . oh God . . . she was that socialite—the one who’d been married to that Hollywood guy and then that guy who ran for president—but she was so ugly! She had a face like a horse, you could tell even though she was wearing huge black sunglasses like she was afraid of being recognized. . . . She was supposed to be really scary and really rich: What was he doing with her?

“Hello, Janey,” he said.

“Comstock,” she faltered.

“I’d like to present my fiancée. Morgan Binchely.”

“Hello,” Janey said. She couldn’t take her eyes off his face. She hadn’t seen him for three weeks, and for the first time she saw that beneath the ugliness was cruelty. His eyes were cruel. Without those cruel eyes, he could have never overcome his ugliness. People would have dismissed him or taken advantage. He smiled, his pink lips parting slightly to reveal the gap in his teeth. His expression seemed to sneer Show me.

She’d show him, all right.

“This is happy news,” she said. “When did you get engaged?”

“In Greece,” Morgan said. The accent in her voice hinted at finishing schools and horseback riding in Connecticut. “It was quite a surprise, I must say.” She tightened her hold on his arm. “We’d only been seeing each other for—what?—six months?”

“That’s right,” Comstock said.

”Mon dieu! Mr. Comstock Dibble?” Janey’s mother said, suddenly appearing at her side. “But I should curtsy. You are a king. A king of the movies!”

“This is my mother, Monique,” Janey said.

“I know all your films,” her mother said, dramatically placing her hand on her heart.

“You’re very kind,” Comstock said.

“You are a friend of Janey’s?” her mother inquired, linking her arm through hers.

“Janey is writing something for me.”

“I see,” her mother said curiously.

“Excuse me,” Janey said.

“Janey!” Comstock said

Janey turned. She looked at Comstock and shook her head.

“Tch! Let her go,” her mother said. “She is always—how you call it—martyr.”

They all laughed.

IX