Read Death in The Life for Free Online

in the sidewalk. “The old lady who used to operate out of here, you know her?”
    “Only from hearsay.”
    “Did you know—I’ll bet you didn’t or you wouldn’t keep Goldie shuffling his feet—she made her rent off’n me? A kind of referral service. A couple of tricks a week, it kept her going.”
    “That old lady?”
    He gave a whinny of phony laughter. “I said referral. Don’t you know what that word means? There’s Johns don’t like to pick up a ‘ho’ on the street or in a bar. They think everybody’s spying on them. So I figured a connection house, see what I mean?”
    “You don’t miss a trick,” Julie said, not sure the moment she had said it that she had intended the double entendre.
    “Julie, chile, anybody on the street’s going to tell you, don’t smart-ass Goldie.”
    “Okay, I’ll remember that,” Julie said. She did not want to provoke him, only not to seem intimidated by him. In fact, vaguely and very briefly, in view of the idea she’d had for a story, she thought of the connection’s possibilities.
    “On the other hand”—he started purring again and his voice really was rich and velvety—“you play along with Goldie and it’s money in the bank.”
    “No way,” Julie said.
    “You’re making a mistake.”
    “Could be.”
    He reached out his hand and tipped her chin upward. She did not draw back. If he had been a white man, she would have and maybe given him a crack across the face as well. Goldie knew it. “No hard feelings?”
    “No.” By shaking her head, she escaped his touch.
    “You know something? If you were my girl, you’d be number one in no time. You could have class. It’d be a pleasure for me to take on the obligation. First thing, I’d want your hair growing down your back. You need a little silicon up front. Then I’d start on the clothes… I got a fifty-thousand-dollar dress designer on my payroll. I ain’t bullshitting you. Ask any of my girls.”
    “How did you find out my name is Julie?”
    “I knew it from the day you bought the Tarot cards. If you’d looked in the crystal ball yourself, you’d’ve seen a dark, handsome man coming into your life.”
    “No way,” Julie said, aware that she was saying it too often, aware also of dryness in her mouth.
    “I can wait, a gentleman of leisure. Any time you change your mind, just put out the word you want to see Goldie.”

6
    P ETE HAD NOT RETURNED by seven o’clock, so Julie packed up his tool box and sewing kit, locked her shop, and went along to the Actors Forum. The door was locked, but Amy Ross, an actress Julie knew by sight, was using the wall phone outside the office door. Julie tapped at the window, showed her face up close to the glass, and was let in. Amy returned to the phone. She had not seen Pete since early that afternoon.
    Julie went into the Green Room and read the assorted notices on the bulletin board. A rehearsal was in progress in the back room. A lot of Forum members wanted part-time work, according to the board, typing, baby-sitting, translating; several members wanted to share apartments. “Mary Ann” advertised herself as a good reliable maid. With references. The acting business was very bad. When was it not?
    Amy Ross came through from the phone and made herself coffee.
    “Do you know where Pete lives? Or where he works?” Julie asked her.
    “They’d know in the office, but it’s closed.”
    “I know.”
    “Did you try the phone book?”
    Julie hadn’t. Amy sipped her coffee and watched Julie turn the directory pages. “You’re Julie Hayes, aren’t you? Are you really psychic? A lot of the kids are into that scene.”
    “I’m beginning to think I’m psychotic.” She could not find a single Mallory in the phone book. Finally she realized that a page had been torn out.
    “Nothing surprises me,” Amy said. “Not around here. No kidding, why don’t you put a notice on the bulletin board? I’ll do it for you if you like.”
    “No…”