Read Online The Blonde by Anna Godbersen - Free Book Online Page A

much with a man like that. He thinks I’m not too sharp, that’s the important thing—he didn’t worry much about telling me important things, because he believes I’m too dumb to understand.”
    The face Alexei gave her was better than any she’d ever gotten from a director. “You really got his number, didn’t you?”
    “Yes.” She savored the yes —they both did—as he maneuvered the car across the vast lavender ribbon of expressway.
    “And what did he tell you, my dear?”
    “He told me …” She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes. “He told me the reason he was in Chicago.”
    “Which was?”
    “He was in Chicago to see Sam Giancana, the man who runs the Chicago Outfit.” The story, as she recounted it, sounded almost harmless and quaint, like the oft-recited words of a fairy tale on the lips of a child. She closed her eyes and listened to herself tell the ending: “He was thereto make a deal with Giancana, so that when he runs for president, Illinois will go for Kennedy.”
    Beneath her white pumps, through the floor, she could feel the car’s wheels slow slightly; Alexei was changing directions to bring her to her father. He was close by, and as a reward she would be taken there in time to make him coffee and read him the headlines. But when she finally opened her eyes she saw that the car was moving along in the same path—it was only that other cars were denser around them now, so he couldn’t maintain the same speed—and his gaze was no longer focused on her.
    “Isn’t that what you wanted?” She hoped her voice wasn’t really so pathetic.
    “I knew that already,” he replied quietly. He didn’t need to express his disappointment, because it was obvious in his changed posture. “How do you think I knew he’d be in Chicago in the first place? We have a girl in Giancana’s organization.”
    The skin of her face went cold and her stomach made a fist as she apprehended what Alexei was involved in—what she, by extension, was involved in. She thought of the little man at Kennedy’s booth, his small glasses and thin lips, his shoulders creeping up around his neck like the shoulders of all corrupt people. About how he was a killer. The nameless girl who reported to both Alexei and Giancana was a killer, too. And so was Alexei, probably, if the situation demanded.
    “You’re not going to introduce me to my father, then?” She didn’t sound like a child anymore, and her face was turned away.
    He ignored her question. “How did you leave it with Kennedy?”
    The fur coat was draped over her shoulders, and under its cover she fixed her arms across her chest. “He said he’d call me when he’s in California next,” she replied vaguely to the windowpane.
    “Good. Then that’s where you’re heading. I’ll take you to the airport and get you a ticket. It will appear natural enough—it’s what Arthur’s been asking for; he won’t object. And if you stay longer than planned, you can tell himthat you’re seeing to his business, both your business, by trying to convince Mr. Gable to be in the picture. We understand Arthur hasn’t been able to convince Mr. Gable to play Gay yet.”
    “That’s because Arthur doesn’t understand Mr. Gable,” she snapped bitterly, before she thought to ask how Alexei knew about The Misfits , Arthur’s latest obsession, or what she and Arthur fought about in private. “He doesn’t understand anybody besides himself.”
    “But you do. It will be good cover for you, and if you’re doing a little business it will be a perfect excuse to go to parties and see a lot of Kennedy.”
    Suddenly her head hurt, and the miles of expressway, the tangle of traffic, the great distance that lay between her and the airport lounge and a good, strong drink seemed impassable, impossible. “When do I get to meet him, Alexei?”
    He glanced at her in the rearview, and must have seen how her eyes burned when she asked this. He knew she meant her father, and did