Genie and I are off on a weeklong cruise tomorrow . . . but after that . . . I plan to be around Newcastle for a while . . . a long while . . .” The way Jamaica said “a long while” made Rosco blush all the way down to his patent-leather shoes.
“I saw that.” Belle had stepped off the dance floor, deserting her sweating partner with a polite but unencouraging smile.
“Who was Mr. Twinkle Toes?” was Rosco’s hurried rejoinder.
“Don’t try to change the subject . . . an associate of Garet’s. I don’t remember meeting the man, but he insisted we were introduced five years ago at some museum function . . . Well, what’s up with La Nevisson? Quite a dress, isn’t it?”
But Rosco wasn’t about to be hoodwinked into discussing the actress’s attire—or lack thereof. “She was inviting us for supper.”
Belle cocked her head and gave Rosco a quizzical stare. “Us? As in you and I?”
The term “your little lady” bombarded Rosco’s brain, but he managed a seemingly nonchalant, “Sure, why not?”
“Watch out for her, Rosco. She spells trouble with a capital T.”
“Funny, that’s just what Pepper said.”
“Well, maybe you should heed his warning.”
The “powder room” was rose pink and dove gray, and festooned with so many orchids in baskets and cachepots that Belle almost wondered whether she’d wandered into a florist’s shop. The two rooms were also chockablock with seriously primping party goers. She watched a rainbow of lipsticks, lip pencils, lip glosses, eye shadows, blush, foundation, and powder flash from jeweled, beaded, and embroidered evening bags. Perfume spritzes clouded the air, while frothy conversation and a good deal of purposeful gossip continued amid a patter of “Fabulous color!” “I don’t know what he did with my hair, this time” “Do you really like it?” “I thought I’d resurrect it for the night” and a bevy of “Great party!” “Isn’t it a gorgeous party?” “Glorious evening.” In typical fashion, the women glanced only at the faces reflected in the mirror. No dialogue, either serious or otherwise, was conducted face-to-face.
Belle smiled at the frivolity of the atmosphere and flicked a comb quickly through her hair as Genie and Jamaica suddenly joined the throng. No one turned to look at the newcomers, although every pair of eyes swiveled toward their mirror images. Belle sensed that Jamaica was keenly aware of the reaction, but also recognized that the actress was feigning indifference. Her voice became louder than necessary.
“Darling, it’s simply too divine,” she said to Genie. “Something out of a play by A. R. Gurney. All these marvelous WASPs buzzing around their natural habitat. An endangered species, I’d say . . .”
Genie appeared slightly unnerved by her friend’s remarks, but she also seemed to be feeling the effects of champagne and a full orchestra. There was something giddy and reckless in her demeanor. She grinned mischievously into the mirror, catching curious glances from the other women gathered at the long dressing table while Jamaica continued her languid speech.
“. . . It almost makes me regret my decision to become an entertainer. I should have followed your example, Genevieve, and snagged a domesticated male . . .”
The powder room had hushed to near silence.
“. . . According to my dear mama, however, a career on the stage was an excellent first step in capturing a wealthy man. She was from the Marion Davies School.”
Teasing her hair, Genie answered her friend in a stagy tone. “But surely there are wealthy men in Los Angeles, Jamaica.”
“Too many secrets out there, darling. One never knows for certain whether a partner is gay or straight or in between—even after marriage . . .”
A gasp from an elderly matron seemed to pass Jamaica unnoticed.
“. . . And that goes for the young men as well as the old. Ah, me, what’s a working girl to do?” Then the actress suddenly noticed Belle standing there. “Your husband’s quite a dish,” she said without taking her eyes off her own reflection.
At first Belle was unaware she was being addressed, then she stammered, “He’s not my husband.” The words sounded hideously loud in her ears. She realized she’d become an additional focal point for the women primping at the mirror.
“No? I assumed everyone in this charming little ville was respectably wed.”
Belle found herself growing irritated at Jamaica’s patronizing assumptions. “Not all of us, no.” The terse reply was intended to denote not only an autonomous state but also Belle’s career, education, and proud self-reliance. The actress