Dayle turned and smiled at the assistant, who—close up—appeared about fifty years old. She was so professionally perky, she could have been an Avon saleswoman. The woman wore jeans and a violet pullover that didn’t quite camouflage her weight problem. “Are you Estelle?” Dayle asked.
“Why, yes, hello. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I have a message from Leigh.” She handed Dayle a sheet of paper. “She’s a huge fan of yours.”
Dayle stole another glance at Leigh, who was whipping the crowd into a fever. Then she read the note, hastily scribbled by Leigh herself:
Dayle let out a little laugh. “Sure,” she said to Estelle Collier. “Tell Leigh that I’d love to get together with her.”
Both Leigh and Dayle had been booked into the Imperial Hotel, the same place Tony Katz had stayed the week he was killed. The Imperial had received their share of bomb threats too, and they’d tightened security at the hotel this evening. Dayle’s suite was on the twentieth floor.
For her date with Leigh, she’d changed her clothes several times, and finally decided on a pair of black stirrup pants and a dark green silk blouse. Like most women, she dressed for other women. In this case, she didn’t want to be too alluring. Leigh’s sexuality shouldn’t have been an issue. But maybe Leigh was expecting more than a friendly chat tonight. Dayle hoped she wouldn’t have to dodge a pass. She’d rejected enough sexual advances in her day, from both genders; that wasn’t a problem. But she admired Leigh Simone, and didn’t want to brave that kind of awkward situation with her.
Dayle was at the dresser mirror, brushing her hair when the phone rang. She grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hello, Dayle?” Leigh must have been at a party or in a bar, Dayle heard talking and laughter in the background.
“Yes, hi. Leigh? Where are you calling from?”
“My suite, believe it or not,” Leigh said. “The only person I wanted to see tonight was you, and it’s wall-to- wall people here. Don’t ask me how, but this whole thing got out of control. Are you in a party mood?”
Dayle frowned. “Um, not really. But thank you anyway—”
“No, no, no. Don’t thank me ‘anyway’ yet. I’m not in a party mood either. Could I come up? I figure I can sneak out of this circus in about a half hour. Is that okay? Do you mind meeting in your suite?”
“No, Leigh. I don’t mind at all.”
“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit. I can’t wait!” Leigh made a kissing sound, then hung up.
With Leigh arriving soon, Dayle began to straighten what little mess she’d made in her suite. She cleared some paperwork and clothes off the couch, then called room service and ordered champagne.
She’d just hung up the phone when someone knocked on her door. Dayle checked the peephole. Leigh Simone appeared nervous and tense. She rolled her eyes, took a deep breath, and started to knock again.
Dayle opened the door. “Well, hello, Ms. Simone! At last, we meet.”
Leigh seemed taller in person. This close, Dayle couldn’t help noticing the pale olive color of her eyes. Leigh wore black capri pants, fancy gold slippers, and a tuxedo blouse. She stood at the threshold for a moment, one hand on the door frame. “Before I come in,” she announced, “I need to say this, Dayle. I’m really nervous about meeting you.”
Dayle laughed. “Oh, stop….”
“No, ma’am. You’re my hero. My assistant, Estelle, can tell you, I was bowled over when you agreed to come to this benefit. I was shooting for the moon when I invited you. And then, tonight backstage, I kept asking Estelle, ‘Do you think she’d like to get together? Should I ask?’”
“Well, I’m glad you did,” Dayle said, feeling more at ease. “For the record, I was so jazzed up about meeting you, I changed my outfit four times. Now for God’s sake, get in here.”
With a hundred-watt grin, Leigh spread her arms and gave Dayle a fierce hug. “Dayle, this is a dream come true. You have no idea!” She unclinched, but continued to hold her hand. “You’re my inspiration. You know, twelve years ago, when I first moved to New York—and I was waiting tables and living in this cheap hotel for women—I used to pattern myself after you in
“That was one of my better ones,” Dayle said.
“Oh, it was great. You were my role model in that. I saw the movie four times, bargain matinees. I used to daydream about being rich and famous. And get this, part of that dream was seeing my sassy little self lounging in a plush hotel room, having a heart-to-heart with my good buddy, Dayle Sutton. So I mean it when I tell you, this is a dream come true for me.”
Dayle squeezed her hand. “Stop, you’ll make me cry—and we haven’t even sat down yet. C’mon. Champagne’s on its way.” She opened the minirefrigerator. “Meanwhile, what can I get you?”
Sitting on the couch, Leigh glanced toward the small refrigerator, then gave Dayle a wicked smile. “That chocolate bar in there. I’ll split it with you. Shoots my diet to hell. But let’s be decadent.”
Dayle grinned. “It’s a deal. Don’t you want a drink?”
“No, but you go ahead. I already had a glass of wine at the party. I’m a lightweight—a total disgrace to the rock star profession. I don’t do drugs or trash hotel rooms either. Half a glass of your champagne, and I’ll be out like a light. I swear, I’ll fall asleep right on this couch.”
“Kind of like a slumber party,” Dayle said, handing Leigh the candy bar and a glass of water.
“Oh, wouldn’t that make the bees buzz?” Leigh unwrapped the Nestle’s Crunch. “‘Leigh Simone Spends Night in Dayle Sutton’s Hotel Room.’ The tabloids would have a field day.” She patted the sofa cushion. “C’mon, sit. I’m not wolfing this down alone.”
Working up a smile, Dayle sat beside her. There was an awkward silence.
Leigh snapped off a corner of the candy bar, then put it up to Dayle’s lips. Dayle hesitated, then took the chocolate in her mouth. Her lips brushed against Leigh’s fingers. “Pretty sinful, isn’t it?” Leigh whispered.
She nodded.
Leigh broke another piece off of the Nestle’s Crunch bar and studied it. “Am I wrong?” she said. “Or is something happening here?”
Dayle shrugged. “Well, I’m picking up some signals—if that’s what you mean. And it’s very flattering. I really admire you, Leigh. You have—so much integrity. You’ve got the courage to say, ‘This is me, I’m gay, and it’s —’”
“Um, Dayle, I’m not gay,” Leigh interrupted.
“You’re not?”
“I know the rumors. If people want to think I’m a lesbian, that’s fine. But you’re not ‘people,’ Dayle, so I can tell you. I’m not gay.” She took a deep breath. “In fact, I thought you were—”
“Gay?” Shaking her head, Dayle started to laugh. “No. God, we must be prey to the same warped rumor mill. I’ve been wondering all night what to do if you should make a pass.”
“Ha, I was thinking the same thing!” Leigh gave her shoulder a playful push. Grinning, she nibbled at the candy bar again. “Want to know what else? I figured, if you tried any moves, I might just go along. After all, you’re
Dayle rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, cut me a break.”
Leigh sighed. “Reminds me of those movies on late-night cable TV. They always have lesbian sex scenes. Only those girls are never lesbians, they’re just experimenting.”
Dayle laughed. “It’s the guy myth that we females of the species are all one glass of wine away from becoming bisexual.” She raised her glass in a toast. “So I gather you too have spent many a night on the road in a hotel room with only cable TV for company. That’s me, filming on location.”
“I’m on tour thirty weeks every year,” Leigh said. “I can give you a list of the best hotels in every major city in
