Indiscretions - Elizabeth Adler [115]
“Nothing much—why don’t you come around? We’ll call a couple of girls, have a party.”
“Okay. That reminds me.” Bob unzipped his bag again. “Got a little present for you. You can tell me what you think of it tonight.” He got up, wrapping his white sweater around his shoulders casually, Rory style, smiling as he headed for the gate.
“Hey,” called Rory, examining the pretty beribboned package with a pleased little grin, “hey, that’s real nice of you. What is it?”
Bob waved. “Open it,” he suggested. “See ya.”
Goddamn, thought Rory, nobody ever gave him presents just like that, except for all that Christmas stuff that he didn’t even count as presents, just bribes from those who were making money off his back. He ripped open the package and stared at the little jar of white powder. There must be half a goddamn ounce! His mouth pursed in a faint amazed whistle. Goddamn, that Bob was something else—and he’d bet it was good stuff too. The best. Pocketing the coke, he sauntered toward the driveway where his black Ferrari waited. He was a good guy, Bob, a good friend. They’d have some fun tonight, he’d make sure of that. He’d call Margie—he hadn’t seen her in ages—and maybe Joanne … yeah, that was it. Grinning happily he slung his bag in the backseat and climbed into the car. What more could a guy need than a black Ferrari, he wondered as he spun down the driveway, and half an ounce of the best stuff?
The four of them sat on cushions around the huge chunk of black-veined marble resting on four stone lions that was Rory’s coffee table. The wide picture-windows leading onto a small deck overlooking the Newport Beach marina were closed to keep out the fog that had blown in with a sudden drop in temperature from the day’s warm sun and the dimmers were down low, leaving just enough glow from the lamps to illuminate their faces as the four of them sipped white wine from oversize crystal glasses, dipping occasionally into the mound of white powder—arranged like caviar in a silver bowl, surrounded by twenty-dollar bills, which Rory always said were the best way to do it. Everyone dipped in except Bob.
Margie was having a ball. She lay back on the cushion, her pretty eighteen-year-old face loose and formless, her eyes gleaming, words spilling from her lips as she chattered endlessly about nothing. She had nice skin and straight blond hair cut in neat bangs, and she wore purple Guess? jeans and a Ralph Lauren shirt. She was, thought Bob sadly, somebody’s daughter, product of some nice middle-class family in Encino who’d given her everything, the credit cards so she could shop at the Galleria on Saturdays, the car on her sixteenth birthday because all the other kids had care—how else were you supposed to get to school unless Mom kept on driving you, and you could forget that! Margie had had her freedom and she’d blown it.
Joanne refilled the wineglasses and dragged deeply on her Marlboro. She was a different type, older, maybe twenty-four? An actress, a serious one, she’d told him. She was leaving this hick town next week and heading back for New York to do Shakespeare in Central Park for the summer season. Playing Juliet’s nurse was better than a dozen “cameos” or “also starring” on TV credits that went so fast nobody knew you were there but you, and the movies were too tough to crack. She was a Broadway chick, and that’s what she wanted—bright lights and applause. “Reality!” Joanne emphasized the word. “No more of this crap for me, Rory. Oh, it’s all right for you, you’re different—you look the way you look, custom made for the screen. My face doesn’t photograph that good, it’s too uneven.”
“What about you, Bob?” Rory arranged four immaculate lines of coke. “What are you into?”
Bob shrugged. “Nothing much. There’s the family garment business back East—I’m supposed to get things going here, but it’s too easy to get diverted.” He grinned at Rory. “I spend too much time playing tennis with guys like you, or hanging out at parties. I’ll have to get something going soon, or they’ll be on to me.”
“As long as it keeps