Almost Famous Women Read Free

wasn’t the first time Violet had tried to sabotage our success. Once, she’d dyed her hair blond. Then she tried to get fat. Every time I turned around in the forties she was eating red velvet cupcakes.
    Your teeth are gonna go blood red from all that food coloring, I warned.
    We had enough strikes against us in the looks department. One of Violet’s eyes sloped downward, as if it might slide off her face. I hated that eye. I felt like we could have been more without it. LikeVirginia Mayo or Eve Arden or someone with a good wardrobe and a contract or two.
    Give me the cookies, I said. We can’t show up naked. We can’t show up in grocery aprons.
    Violet held the cookie box in her right arm. I could let her have it, tackle her, or run in a circle. I was too tired for the game. We’d played it enough as kids.
    Fine, I said. Eat your damn cookies.
    We each had talents. Violet could disappear inside her imaginary shell. I could go without food for days.

    Martin Lambert had intended to take us to his sister’s house that first night in New York.
    I can’t have you home with me, he said. We’ll figure something out.
    He flagged down a cab.
    I can’t feel my feet, Violet whispered.
    I wasn’t sure we’d ever been up so late before. The lights of the Brooklyn Bridge pooled in the East River. The people on the sidewalks wore beautiful jackets. Soldiers were home with girls on their arms, cigarettes on their lips. Restaurants kept serving past midnight.
    I hoped Violet wouldn’t tell him it was our first cab ride. The stale smell of tobacco oozed from the upholstery. Martin lit another cigarette and rubbed his palms on his pants. He kept looking at us out of the corner of his eye. Staring without staring. Disbelief. Curiosity.
    I wanted to be close to him. I wanted to smell his aftershave, touch the hair under his cap.
    We sing, I said. We can swim and roller-skate, or play saxophone if you like.
    Well I’ll be, he said. Showbiz twins. Working gals.
    Martin shook his head and chewed his lip. One thing I’d learned—people saw different things when they looked at us. Some saw freaks, some saw love. Some saw opportunity.
    Violet was quiet.
    We want to be in the movies, I said.
    How old are you? he asked.
    Eighteen, I lied.
    I pulled the hem of my dress above my knees.
    Violet jabbed me in the ribs.
    Honest, I said.
    Violet placed a hand over her mouth and giggled.
    Cabbie, Martin said. Stop at McHale’s. Looks like we’re going to grab ourselves a few drinks.

    Our hats were out of style and out of season, but we were used to standing out in a crowd.
    Martin rushed over to a stocky man standing by the bar.
    Ed, he said. I want you to meet Daisy and Violet.
    Ed nodded but didn’t speak. The two men turned to lean over their beers and talk quietly.
    I felt a hundred eyes burning my back.
    Look at the bodies, not the faces, I told myself.
    Miss Hadley had said: Learn to love the attention. You don’t have a choice.
    There is no one in the world like you , I said to myself.
    The spotlight is on, Violet said.
    There is no one in the world like you .
    We should find a hotel, Violet said. Then go back south tomorrow. If we leave early, we could get to Richmond. Even Atlanta. Somewhere nice .
    With what money? I asked her.
    One gin and tonic later I pulled Violet onto the stage. The band was warming up. We could be seen and gawked at, or we could be appreciated, marveled over. I knew which I preferred.

    The first night Martin and I slept together, Violet said the Lord’s Prayer eighteen times.
    Â . . . hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done . . .
    Violet!
    On Earth as it is in Heaven.
    Just keep going, I said.
    Are you sure? Martin asked.
    Violet had her hand over her eyes, a halfhearted attempt not to watch. She kept her clothes on, even her shoes.
    Yes, I told him.
    The room was dark but Martin kept his eyes closed. He never