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All Smoke and Mirrors

by LONGJON 

Posted: 06 August 2003
Word Count: 3155
Summary: Since it is the anniversary of Marilyn Monroes death, this is a piece I started some time ago, but never finished.


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A hot, still California afternoon, lunch too recent for the first drink of the day. The phone rings, battering the stillness into submission.

Marilyn strolls into the lounge, magnificent blonde hair uncombed and wearing only a sleeveless polka dot top and red shorts.

“Hi, this is Marilyn.”

“Marilyn, its’ Jack. I’ve just got in from Washington and have had my secretary cancel all my engagements for this afternoon. I really got to see you honey.”

“ Down boy, I haven’t gotten over the last time yet.”

“Oh, this will be better than last time, believe me.”

He laughed quietly, as if at a private joke. For the first time ever there was an ill concealed harshness in his voice.

“See you in about an hour.”

She slowly put the phone down, stood frozen for a few moments with her hand resting on it, and then crumbled onto the hard wooden chair standing beside the phone table. An ice black terror squeezed every trace of warmth out of her – for nearly ten minutes she couldn’t think, could hardly breathe.

She folded her long legs up onto the chair and hugged them tight. Gradually the mantra began – the bastard knows, the bastard knows,
the bastard knows. Something made her think of the first time she had met Jack, when some friends had included her in their invite to the Kennedys summer house at Kennebunkport in Maine. She had still been climbing the ladder and some friends with Kennedys’ kind of influence could be real useful. She had known better lovers but she had never known a faster one. Almost before he knew her name he had been doing a number on her.

Not that she minded, he sure had some charm about him. The strangest thing was Jacqueline, definitely not dumb or blind, she just seemed to ignore what Jack did.

Somehow it all seemed to roll on from there, the invites became more frequent, both to parties that Jack was at and ones that he wasn’t. Yet she never felt as if she was simply being passed around, the people who ran these parties used their charm like they used their money, to gain advantage fast but with finesse.

But gradually it seemed that there were more and more guys at the parties that hadn’t come from the Ivy League side of the tracks. Soon the joints were being passed around; there was even some coke. Then Jack had introduced her to Carlos Giancelli.

No one had ever frightened her as much as he did. He wore a suit that cost more than a factory worker made in a year and his shoes were the price of a new Buick. He wore a gold chain and bracelet that you could start a country bank with and was possessed of a flawless arrogance that in another time and place would have brought him the purple robes of a Caesar. No one, but no one ever said no to Carlos – at least, they never said it twice.

He shook hands with her and his hand was as cool and smooth as fine suede leather, with long fingers and immaculate nails. His handshake was strong and controlled and he spoke with a sculptured baritone voice without a trace of a smile on his face.

“ You are indeed a beautiful young woman, Miss Monroe. The cinema screen does not do you justice.”

She never knew how she had been able to reply and was damn glad that he had been called away by one of the guys running the party before she ran out of words.

She didn’t hear from him for some weeks then one of his associates called and invited her to a party at Carlos’ place in San Luis Obispo. He said that they would send a car and would pick her up at eight. The guy wasn’t unfriendly – it only took the mention of Giancellis’ name and she knew that arguing would not be a good idea.

It had all started on that night – something told her that it was not going to be like all the other parties that she had been to. She had tried to dress down as much as she could but with a figure like hers that was kind of hard. Somehow the simple black dress, plain shoes and no jewellery that she had worn had worked against her, made her seem vulnerable. To her surprise, Jack had been waiting for her at the front of the house and he looked at her like he wanted her naked right now.

He took her straight through the house and out to the pool at the back. For the first time he had not asked her what she would like to drink, he had had a drink waiting at their table beside the pool and he put the drink into her hand almost before she had sat down. A strange thought occurred to her as she took the drink – she was becoming well known as an actress and her arriving at a party was always something of an event. Here no one had taken the slightest bit of notice.

“ Climb into that Marilyn, its going to be one hell of a night.” said Jack.

It was not until she had almost finished the drink that she saw that the dozen or so people in the pool were all naked. As she watched the games going on in the pool, a slow sense of detachment began to spread over her, as if she was watching from a distance, was somehow untouchable. She didn’t know where the second drink came from, didn’t remember drinking it.

Gradually she realised that nearly all the people around the pool were also naked or fast getting that way. Then Jack was pulling her up out of her chair and she felt her dress fall onto the tiles at her feet. Her bra and pants followed and then she was running, with Jack, towards the house. Everybody else seemed to follow, the people climbing out of the pool and running into the house still dripping wet.

Marilyn found herself in the private theatre in Carlos’ house that would normally seat about thirty people, but there wasn’t a seat in the place, the floor was covered in thick silk covered quilts and fur rugs. It was clear that most of the rest of the people had been there before and couldn’t wait to get down onto the rugs with their partners, whether boy or girl. A movie that the censor had never seen was running on the screen and the images bounced from body to body as people stood, moved around from partner to partner. She knew that the first one had been Jack, but who there was afterwards was just a blur.

When she woke up next morning, it took her about a quarter of an hour to lift her head off her pillow and to realise that she was at home. Her dress was draped over the end of her bed but her shoes and the rest of her clothing had disappeared. Nearly an hour after waking she stumbled into her bathroom, ran her shower and just stood under it unable to lift her arms.

Gradually the warm water started to bring her back to life and the pain of the bruising on her legs slowly became bearable. Eventually she turned the shower off, wrapped a large towel around herself and walked slowly out to the kitchen. Soon she had a large mug of steaming black coffee and went out onto the balcony, slumping down onto a large teak lounger with the mug of coffee gripped in her hands.

Marilyn loved filmmaking, not just being an actress, but the process of filmmaking and had frequently sat in the editing suite, watching the editors flick the films forwards and backwards as they decided which segments would survive and which would end up on the floor. It seemed that she was sitting in the editing suite now as her mind flicked backwards and forwards over last night’s party. She knew that she had finally met the people who ran the film industry, who decided who lived and who died, and that there was nothing in the world she wanted as much as she wanted to be a major star. What she had finally been shown was the price ticket.

She knew that she would be contacted again for another party, as clearly as she knew that she would play the game. She was surprised how easy the decision was, and once made the day started to brighten and what had been the terrors of the previous night somehow faded away. For the first time since last night she thought about Jack and suddenly she wanted to see him. She threw the coffee mug over the balcony and ran into the house, dropping the towel on the living room floor. It was Jack that answered the phone, but Marilyn was too excited to pick the tone of relief in his voice at hearing from her.

“ You owe me lunch, lover boy,” she said “ and I mean a damn good one.”
“Marilyn, at this moment there is nothing I would like more than lunch with you, but I’ve got to go back to Washington today. This is for your ears only but I have decided to accept the Democratic nomination for President, and the campaign has to be started as soon as possible. I will be back here as fast as I can – is a rain check o.k. for now?”

She paused, thrown out of step for a moment.

“Yeah, o.k. Jack. Call me when you get back.”

As she went to hang up the phone she heard someone speaking to Jack who must have been standing near him. She couldn’t make out what was said, but the voice sounded familiar.

Her daily routines took over and she largely forgot the pain of the night at Giancellis’ house. It began to be whispered about that a film that would rival Gone with the Wind was soon to be cast but the list of names for the female lead did not include Marilyn. She finally got a chance to read the script and knew that this was a role she badly wanted. Jack was running around the country involved in his campaign for the Presidency and she could not contact him. She told her agent, Rick Benson, that she wanted this part and at first he laughed, told her that this was not a role that someone who had no serious acting to her credit had a hope in hell of getting.

She slammed the phone down, angry and annoyed at being dismissed so easily. She stormed around the house kicking furniture and slamming doors. Quite suddenly she was calm – she knew what to do. She got back on the phone to Rick and gave him no chance to speak.

“ Rick, when I tell you that I want this part, that is exactly what I mean. If you cannot get it for me you will phone this number and you will talk to Carlos Giancelli. He will tell you what to do and if I were you I would do it. Do you understand me, Rick ?”

There was silence for a few moments, then Rick spoke very quietly.

“ I will call you back this afternoon, Marilyn.”

Everything seemed to happen very quickly after that. The industry was in an uproar for weeks that an actress with no serious acting to her credit had scored such a major part, but a smoke and mirrors business like filmmaking knows how to rationalise.

But even Marilyn was surprised just how fast Giancelli wanted his payback. Within a week of her getting the part he phoned, ostensibly to congratulate her, but the invite to the party followed real quick, just as she had thought it would.

When she arrived at the party she was surprised to see that there were no cars parked outside the house. Giancelli himself met her on the front steps and escorted her through to his study. He was formal and courteous as he had been the first time that she had met him and frightened her just as much since now she knew she had a debt to pay. As he spoke she suddenly realised who had been standing next to Jack as he told her about the Democratic nomination.

“ I must tell you again how pleased I was that you received the part that you sought. I believe that you deserve it. However, as I am sure you know this industry is one that requires co-operation from many people if it is to be successful. This co-operation takes many forms and since there is a change in the political scene in this country going to happen in the near future, a new form of co-operation will need to be developed.”

He paused for a moment and Marilyn sat silent as a rabbit in headlights.

“ As I am sure you know, the Irish and the Italians have never been close. This must change and change quickly, but the nature of the change is of great importance. You have the advantage of a close friendship with the man who will soon be our next President. I believe that you would be able to render a great service to those who hold your interests dear.”

Despite acting as a dumb blonde Marilyn wasn’t. She knew with complete certainty what she was going to be required to do and knew that choice was not in the equation. She spoke quietly.

“I’ll help”

“ I cannot tell you how pleased that makes me. I welcome your assistance and assure you of my friendship in every way in the future.”

He stood up quickly and leant over Marilyn like a striking snake.

“ But if you ever lie to me…

Slowly, he walked away and stood near one of the windows.

“ Before you go, there is something I want you to see.”

He walked out of the room and Marilyn followed him. He took her to the theater where the seats had been re-installed and told her to sit in the front row. After a moment or two the screen flickered into life and a skilfully edited film of the party evening with Jack appeared. Whoever had done the filming knew what they had been doing and had had good equipment, the film was clear and explicit.

She watched about three or four minutes, then stood up.

“O.k., I get your point. What do you want me to do now.”

“ I need to make sure that we have sufficient material to convince our Irish friend that he should listen to chosen associates whenever necessary.
There will be another party here next Saturday, you will attend and I will ensure that our friend does. We shall enjoy ourselves even more than the first time don’t you think ?”

For the first time he smiled at her and she felt a fear as deep as dying. Without another word she turned and walked out to the car.

The week before the party was lost to her, and she didn’t get out of bed on the Saturday until 4 p.m. When she arrived at the house Jack was waiting inside but he came straight over to her as soon as she walked into the room.

“ God, I have missed you. I had to fight like hell with my campaign manager to get here but there was no way I was going to pass a chance like this. Can I get you a drink ?”

She smiled and took his arm.

“ Jack, I want to really enjoy myself this time, so I guess I will pass on the drink. I have been thinking about you all day and believe me, I don’t want to waste time talking.”

She took his hand and headed straight to the theater. By the time they got to the door her dress was off and this time there was nothing left to follow it.
The activity in the theater was just the same, but she made sure that she hung onto Jack. For the first time she saw the mirrors on the ceiling and realised why Carlos was nowhere to be seen. Then she remembered that he had not been in the original film either.

Suddenly Jack was the President of the United States and a whole new era in American politics began. The honeymoon seemed to go on forever and the illusion of an American Camelot became firmly entrenched in the voters minds.
But soon his keenest supporters in the Senate and Congress started to find his inconsistency on law and order matters hard to understand. Questions about influence peddling began to be asked, particularly it seemed where organisations with Italian connections were concerned. But it always turned out to be all smoke and mirrors, or so the newspapers and television stations kept reporting.

The big old grandfather clock in her living room suddenly snapped her out of her dreaming. She ran into the room and looked at the time and realised that she had been sitting on the chair for nearly half an hour. As she stood there the front door bell went. It can’t be him, she thought, he said he would be here in about an hour.

She crept down to the door and tried to look through the peephole but someone was covering it with their finger. Scared now she finally opened the door just enough to look out. There were two men standing there, both in suits and ties. The taller of the two pushed his way into the house and said, bluntly,

“Carlos wants to see you.”
The taller man took her by the arm and led her out to their car waiting in the driveway. He pushed her into the back seat and sat next to her in silence. They drove out of her front gate and as soon as they turned left she knew that they weren’t going to Carlos’ place.

It was only about 15 minutes down the freeway that they pulled into the driveway of the Starlight Motel. It was dusk by now and people tended to ignore what others were doing in places like the Starlight Motel.

Room 16 became famous later on when her body was found. There was very little that the Manager could tell the Police. Jack was the President for about another 18 months until he took a trip to Dallas and got shot. Many were the attempts to find out who really did that too, but no matter where the investigators turned, all they found was smoke and mirrors.







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Comments by other Members



stephanieE at 10:53 on 06 August 2003  Report this post
John - Mmmm, a carefully crafted piece of conspiracy theory. Marilyn has alwaysd seemed a bit of an enigma to me - I'm damn sure she wasn't a dumb blonde, so what was she doing finishing in a seedy motel room when she still ahd so much going for her? I guess you can never know.

A small thing that didn't quite work for me:
she just seemed to ignore what Jack did.

Somehow it all seemed to roll on from there,

seemed repeated in adjacent sentences

Apart from that this is a readable and, to me at least, plausible tale...

Ralph at 11:34 on 06 August 2003  Report this post
Jon
Hooray! Another firm believer in the conspiracy... Stunning descriptions of Giancelli here - what a character. And the palms like suaede leather... truly chilling. What a worthy tribute...

Still, Bobby Kennedy bothers me, and the rumours of a little black book...

You've captured Marylin's sharp intelligence here. I wanted more of her (but then I always do), perhaps more of the neurotic nature Miller describes. She's a little composed here, perhaps, but then again, what a way to remember her.

Thanks for this one, and here's to Marylin!

Huggs
Ralph

Nell at 17:46 on 06 August 2003  Report this post
Hi John,

Very readable and engrossing and not a little chilling - money and power seem to be able to buy almost anything, and I've always had a soft spot for Marilyn - but then hasn't everyone?

I'm wondering whether a writer is allowed to name names like this - I'd certainly have second thoughts about it, but I guess so many conspiracy theories are circulating that one more won't attract attention.

I'd have liked a little more of the concealed Marilyn - her thoughts and feelings perhaps, but this was beautifully written and evocative of an era that I remember well.

Best, Nell.

Becca at 19:37 on 06 August 2003  Report this post
John, I was thrilled by the idea you had of writing about her, it's a big one. But I don't think you do yourself justice with it. There are some beautiful observations in it, and I like the way you try to get into her space. But, and this is a big but, a lot of it falls into the trap of telling not showing. It's dramatic and I felt you could have used dialogue as your tool more for evoking mood, fear, uncertainty.
I think it needs work, but I think it could be excellant. Two minor points would be that the phrase 'He took her straight through....' can be said in a couple of sentences more simply and dramatically, in dialogue maybe. Also the 'floor was covered in thick silk covered quilts and fur rugs.'... You need to get rid of one of the 'cover' words.
I write rather abruptly about this piece because I think you've got something going here, and you haven't done it yet.
Yikes! am I cruel.

kmerignac at 16:55 on 12 August 2003  Report this post
John,
Nice piece - it definitely makes a change to see Marilyn portrayed as someone being quite so down to earth. I can't help wondering if she was really quite so pragmatic though - but this is a work of fiction, so why not! I felt it was a bit flat maybe - not very much emotion and a bit like a documentary - but I enjoyed reading it.
Yours, Kate.


Becca at 19:24 on 12 August 2003  Report this post
I was truly intrigued with this John, that's why I think you should work on it. It's a fab and brave idea. I think what Kate says is probably the same as what I meant. And, you can write!

LONGJON at 10:06 on 13 August 2003  Report this post
Hello Everyone,

Sorry for the tardy replies, have been away for a little while.

Stephanie,
Yes, you are indeed right, I hadn't really edited the piece, heard that the anniversary of her death was coming around in a few days so quickly finished the writing and posted it, seeing it as appropriate for the moment.

Ralph,
She was an intriguing woman, wasn't she? In a recent TV program here, it was stated that her IQ was higher than that of Einstein. Now that puts a story like this in a different light, eh?

Nell,
I know what you mean about wishing you could see more of her, I think she was so skilled at being what she felt people wanted her to be that people saw very little of who she really was. Such a damn pity, she would have one of the finest American women of the 20th century.

Becca,
Thanks for your comments, very much appreciated.You are absolutely,right, it deserves some more work. I would like to use more dialogue, but whenever I read back dialogue I have tried to write, it always sounds stilted.And particularly my thanks for your comment about writing. When you come newly to something like this, you tend to be very circumspect and rather constrained. I will most certainly work on this.

Thanks everyone, keep on posting.

John P.


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