PRIVATE DANCER
by
BY EVA RUTLAND
Welcome to TODAY'S WOMAN—a series of seven fantastic stories by some of your favourite authors. One for every day of the week, in fact, and each featuring a truly wonderful woman whose story fits the lines of the old rhyme 'Monday's child is... '
Monday's child is fair of face
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for its living
And a child that's born on a Sunday
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.
(Anton.)
In Eva Rutland's Private Dancer, Tuesday's child Terri Thompson is certainly full of grace, but will that be enough to win the love of journalist Mark Denton—a man intent on thinking the worst of her?
'Tuesday's child is full of grace'
Terri was a career woman with a secret part time job as an exotic dancer... Her colourful act was so convincing that Mark Denton accused her of shamelesly seducing his nephew into an impulsive engagement. He bribed her to stay away from his nephew and Terri, with family troubles of her own, accepted his money...
Then Mark discovered that Terrie had conned him and he wanted revenge. He wanted Terri as his private dancer.
TODAY'S WOMAN -feisty, independent females, all looking for love and determined not to settle for anything less.
CHAPTER ONE
The belly dancer wore the usual trappings, the soft shimmery sheer folds of a harem costume, midriff bare between halter top and billowy pants suspended from the jeweled belt surrounding her pelvis. Same sensuous movements from the swing of her long black hair to the feathery tap of tiny bare feet.
Same trappings. Same erotic routine... but done with a certain delicacy. So exquisitely graceful, every gesture beautifully coordinated with the rhythmic click of the sils on her fingers.
Same... No. Different. Something set her apart. That was it. Apart. Fresh, untouched, remote... physically here, but not really present in Spike O'Malley's crowded, smoke-filled bar.
Mark Denton had chosen the table nearest the small circular stage, meaning to get a good look at her, size her up before he approached her. Now he leaned forward in his chair, completely enthralled, oblivious to everything but the captivating figure on the stage, the teasing come-play-with-me invitation in those slanting blue eyes. The provocative sway of her torso that evoked a hungry stirring in his groin. Damn! He sat up and took a hasty swallow of his Scotch. Forced himself to remember his uncle's words.
"A gold-digging slut! She's got her hooks into that damn fool grandson of mine who's ripe for the plucking."
"Can't pluck much, Uncle Jasper." Mark knew the old man kept a tight hold on the Goodrich millions. Tight hold on Robbie too. Time the boy cut loose. "Robbie's a good kid," he said. "He's entitled to a few wild oats."
"Wild oats I might countenance. Not marriage!"
This got Mark's attention. "Marriage!"
"That's his damn fool intention. And I won't have it!" Jasper Goodrich slapped a hand on his massive rosewood desk. "Not to some floozy who bobs her boobs and wiggles her belly in a bar full of goggle-eyed, beer-guzzling lechers." Mark's lips twitched. "Personal inspection, Uncle?"
"Not on your life. Wouldn't be caught dead in such a place. It's called Spike's. And she is..." He searched among several papers. "Deedee Divine," he snorted. "Name ought to tell him she's a designing hussy. Robbie's a fool. But he's twenty. Old enough to pull off this damn fool stunt. I want you to put a stop to it."
"Me?"
"You're the syndicated columnist. Good with words. You know how to sway people to your way of thinking."
"Look, Uncle, I only report the facts. I don't-"
"Whatever." Jasper waved a hand as if to brush away any dissension. "The facts are that Robbie's in deep. You've got to pull him out of this, Mark."
Mark wasn't surprised. He was ten years older than Robbie, but the nearest to his age in the family and his appointed guardian since his birth. "I'll talk to him if you like. But I doubt it will do any good."
"It won't. Talk to the floozy."
"I don't even know the woman."
"No need to get acquainted. Your calling card will be cash in hand."
This shouldn't have surprised him either. According to Jasper Goodrich, it was money that made the world go around, and that was what he used to chart its course. Mark thought of his cousin, Janine. Money had broken up her impromptu marriage to that race car driver. The guy must have been the creep Jasper claimed, for, threatened with Janine's disinheritance, he had taken a pay off and run. Not that it did him much good. He had died in a crash soon after. And Mark's mother always said Janine had died more from a broken heart than from the ordeal of Robbie's birth. His Uncle Jasper had been devastated. Still, Mark mused, he evidently hadn't learned anything. Now he planned to use money to direct Robbie's life.
"Look, Uncle Jasper, maybe you're going about this the wrong way."
The older man was not to be deterred. "It's the only way, Mark. Make it clear to the gold digger that Robbie won't get one red cent if he marries her. I guarantee she'll come around. You can go up to half a million. And keep me out of it, understand? I don't want Robbie to know I've even talked to you."
That was why he has appealed to me instead of his battery of lawyers. At least he learned one thing from his experience with Janine. She had never forgiven him. He meant to hold on to Robbie's love. Leaving the dirty work to someone else.
"I'd rather not be involved, sir."
"You won't be, if you handle things right. Robbie's back east this week for a debating session. Talk to her while he's gone and tell her to keep her mouth shut. Now, don't be obstinate, Mark. You're not harming Robbie. You're keeping him from ruining his life! Do you want to see him tied up with a woman like that?"
"You're judging her sight unseen. Maybe she really cares for Rob."
"Ha! All she sees are dollar signs. If you don't believe me... try her!"
So Mark found himself consenting to his uncle's plan. Robbie was young, impulsive. It wouldn't hurt to take an objective look at the woman, put her to the test.
Put her to the test. That was why he was here. He wrenched himself from the euphoric trance and tried to observe her with a cold detachment. The dance ended and he watched her retreat to an echo of cheers and clapping hands. Watched her return to blow kisses to her audience. Observed her eyes. That teasing come-play-with-me glint was gone, replaced by a hard, cold glow.
Uncle Jasper could be right. Her eyes held an almost unholy gleam. Greed? More than greed... a wild, reckless hunger. More. A firm determination to get whatever she hungered for.
The unholy gleam was a wild conglomeration.
Elation! Aunt Meg's blood matched. She could be a donor for Mom.
Desperation. Where could she get three hundred and fifty thousand dollars for a bone marrow transplant?
Determination. Mom's life was at stake. She would get it. But where? Dear God, where?
The agonizing thoughts riveted through Terri Thompson's brain as she automatically clicked her sils, pivoted on her toes and wriggled her torso. She loved to dance, and usually every disturbing problem was blocked out as she did so.
But not this one.
The dance ended to a thundering crescendo of applause and she ran from the stage. Straight into the massive bulk of Spike O'Malley. His cigar dangled through tobacco-stained teeth as he grinned at her.
"You're great, kid! Better than your mom. Listen to them dudes. Better take another bow" he urged, giving her a push.
She took the bow, but shook her head to the calls for another rendition, blew kisses with both hands and again sped from the stage. She had to get away. To think. She evaded Spike O'Malley's open arms, but gave him a warm smile as she disappeared into the dressing room. The bar owner was a kind, warmhearted man, and it was good of him to allow her to take her mother's place. Her weekly four-night stint in the bar more than doubled her State job paycheck.
But it wasn't enough. A ball of fear knotted in her stomach. She drew a deep breath. Relax. Whatsoever you believe in your mind...
"How is Deedee doing, kid?" Vashti, the curvaceous blonde waitress, looked up from one of the chairs, genuine concern in her hazel eyes.
"Much better." Never admit a negative thought! Anyway, things were positive. The cancer had not spread. The myeloma was confined strictly to the bones. If she got a bone marrow transplant... She straightened, tightened her mouth. Not if! When she got the transplant!
Three hundred and fifty thousand dollars! On top of everything else. She was working two jobs and she had not yet covered the cost of the hospital and all those tests.
Again she heard the doctor's voice. "Her only hope of recovery. But, bone marrow transplants are still experimental, you see, and therefore, noninsurable."
Noninsurable! She felt a burst of indignation. All these years Mom had paid the premiums for insurance, which only covered eighty percent of the monstrous cost of the hospital and tests just to determine what she had. And nothing to affect a cure! This wasn't right. Everybody was entitled to proper health care, and she hoped somebody would do something to guarantee it. Even so, it would be too late for Mom. If she didn't get—
"It was such a shock!" Vashti drew on her cigarette. "Deedee is the last person you'd expect to collapse like that. She was so.. .so alive. Always laughing and joking."
Yes, that was Mom, Terri thought. Her work as a dancer often kept her on the road, but her interludes at home were like a breath of fresh air for Terri. All music, dancing and laughter, as they practiced her routines.
"She was out there dancing as usual when all of a sudden she just flopped." Vashti shook her head. "I tell you, it scared the life out of me.
"Scared me, too." Terri had slipped out of her costume. Now she donned a white silk dress with a low neck, drop waistline and pleated miniskirt. "Show those legs," Spike had said.
"You sure got here in a hurry."
"I suppose. Seemed like hours to me." She had wasted no time after getting Spike's phone call. Her mother had pulled out of what they thought was a faint when she got there. But she had looked so pale, Terri had decided it was Deedee's last night at work. It was time for her to take care of Mom. This she proceeded to do, taking her first for a thorough checkup. That was when they found that Deedee needed more than rest.
When the hospital bills began to mount, Terri remembered Spike's words. "Can you dance, kid? If your mom's going to be laid up for awhile..."
Certainly she could do for Mom what Mom had done for her. It was fortunate that she was out of school and two months into her new job at California's State Commission on Economic Development. And fortunate that they were in the same area. It hadn't been that way for a long time, with Deedee working on the East Coast and Terri at Stanford University. When Terri's Master's in Business adminstration had landed her the good job with the commission, they had been delighted.
Mom had come out to help her get settled in an apartment and decided to stay. "Think I'll try the West Coast circuit for a while." She had chortled. "So I can keep an eye on you." She had laughed when she said it. As if touring the circuit was fun... and not this, Terri thought as she looked around the tawdry dressing room. How was it she had never realized what it had cost her mother to care for Aunt Meg, herself and her two cousins?
Terri knew very little about her father, Terance Thompson. Only that he had been her mother's dancing partner and deserted her when Terri was two years old. Delia Thompson; had never looked back. She had changed her name and her routine to become Deedee Divine, belly dancer. Her sister Meg, and husband, Jack, had taken over the care of Terri, along with their own two children. When Terri's beloved uncle Jack had died prematurely, Delia had insisted that Meg remain at home to care for the children.
"Can't stand latchkey kids," she said. "I'll support you." She had, until both Meg's daughters had become schoolteachers. And now that I'm off her back, this has to happen.
It must have been hard on her, supporting all of us, Terri thought as she brushed the long black hair on the wig that covered her own auburn curls. The wig was part of the costume that identified her as Deedee Divine, and she never removed it when she went out to sit with customers between shows. Part of Deedee's job, Spike had explained.
I took all she did for granted, never knowing what it cost. But how could she? She had never even seen her mother perform except when she was in one of those Broadway shows, and it had never occurred to her how seldom that was. She knew Mom had never made the big time, but not that she had been reduced to this.
"Yes, indeed, kid, you're doing just great."
With a start, Terri realized that Vashti had continued to talk to her. "Thank you," she said.
"Good you can take her place. Keep the cash flowing. Speaking of which, I'd better get going." Vashti snuffed out her cigarette. She stood and touched Terri's shoulder. "You can stay here as long as you like. Spike likes you. I can tell."
And that's another problem, Terri thought, as she watched Vashti depart. How long can I fend him off without offending? Not that it matters. Even this job won't bring in three hundred and fifty thousand dollars. A bone marrow transplant, the doctor had said, was her mother's only chance. That had given them hope. But when he added that she would have to go to a hospital in Seattle for the surgery and what it would cost,
Terri had been appalled. And scared. No way could they raise that kind of money.
"Pray," Aunt Meg had said. "Whatever you ask in prayer..."
"Visualize," Angie had advised. Angie, one of the clerks at Terri's State office, had some weird ideas. She insisted that if you kept seeing in your mind whatever you wanted to happen, it would really happen. "Try it," she told Terri. "It really works."
Terri was desperate enough to try everything. She prayed, visualized and racked her brain for some way...
Whatever you see in your mind... She reminded herself that three days ago they hadn't had a donor. When her own blood hadn't matched, she had phoned Aunt Meg and asked her to come out. She had shut her eyes, seeing Meg here, hearing her say, "I match. I match. I can be a donor. After all your mother has done for me..."
And today, just today, she had heard Aunt Meg say almost those very words.
Whatsoever you believe in your mind... She shut her eyes, saw herself smiling at the doctor, counting out crisp new thousand-dollar bills.
Keeping the vision in mind, she slipped on her pumps and moved toward the door. Once in the bar, she glanced around, hoping to see some of the college boys from Berkeley, They were nice young men whose company she much preferred to the more aggressive customers. They would continue to buy drinks to keep her at their table.
None of them were there, and she remembered that Robbie had said he would be away this week. Also, he was very upset with her. But she really had thought it a joke when they talked about getting married. She knew he had become attached to her. Since that night he had gotten stinking drunk and she had taken him home with her, not wanting him to drive in his condition.
He had slept it off on her sofa. She had given him coffee and a hearty breakfast next morning and sent him on his way. He still came often to the bar and they had become good friends. Since the night of his binge, they had devised a way of dumping the excess drinks into a nearby planter, keeping them sober while the drinks kept coming and she remained at his table. She really enjoyed him, but had thought the marriage idea a joke until the other night when he tried to present her with an honest-to-goodness real diamond engagement ring.
"But, Robbie, I thought you were joking," she had said.
He looked stunned. "Joking? About marriage?"
"Well, we've been kidding around about so many things. But, Robbie, marriage is a serious business and you're much too young to—" She broke off, knowing she had said the wrong thing.
"So you're just like everybody else! You think I'm too young to know my own mind."
"No. I didn't mean that. It's... Well..." She hesitated, not wanting to hurt him. "Marriage is just not possible for me right now. And you.. .the truth is you're young, Robbie, and you need to wait. Meet others, widen your horizon, so to speak."
"The truth is that while I'm making all kinds of plans to marry you and take you out of this dump, you've been just stringing me along. Isn't that it?"
She had tried to placate him, but he had left in a huff. Maybe he wouldn't be back at all. And maybe that was just as well. She certainly had no intention of marrying him, and the less he saw of her, the sooner he'd get over his infatuation.
She took another quick look around. None of the Berkeley boys were there tonight. Her heart sank as she heard the calls throughout the room.
"Over here, babe!"
"What's your pleasure, kid?"
Then she heard a quiet cultivated voice behind her. "Miss Divine?"
"Yes," she said, turning. A man she had never seen before was looking at her. He was tall, rather handsome, with black hair and dark, deep set eyes that seemed to be boring into her.
"Would you join me?" he asked, motioning toward a secluded table. "There's a little matter I'd like to discuss with you."
CHAPTER TWO
He led her to the secluded booth, instinctively feeling a need to protect her. To shield her. From what? She was a regular here, wasn't she? And yet, he again sensed a remoteness about her. He wasn't sure why. She had walked in with graceful dignity, head high, as if perfectly at ease in these surroundings. But in that simple white dress, her long black hair hanging to her waist, she had a look of purity and innocence. And, if her smile was a bit wary, it was also warm with such gracious sweetness that for a moment he felt a stab of pure envy. Robbie had seen her first. God! He'd better get hold of himself. He was aware of suspicious glances from several men. As if they too, felt the same instinct to protect her. From him, for Christ's sake! It made him nervous.
"It might be better," he suggested, even as they took their seats, "if we conducted this discussion elsewhere."
Her eyes widened, whether with surprise or ...
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