City of Toys

By Lindy S Hudis

Four beautiful women seek fame and fortune in Hollywood, the City of Toys, where actresses are like dolls, playing pretend on the big screen.
Marlo: a former child actress from New York City.
Rhonda: a small-town beauty queen.
Kim: a “nice Jewish girl” with a painful childhood.
Guyla: a “serious actress” with a debilitating, stress-induced illness.
Marlo, Rhonda, Kim, and Guyla, become friends living in the same apartment complex, in the city where dreams and disasters go hand-in-hand. They come to rely on each other as they deal with sexual come-ons, crazed stalkers, jealous starlets and the constant pressure of trying to make it in showbiz. But when the pressure gets too much, will their friendship save them or will the City of Toys break them?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lachesis Publishing Inc
• Release date: Feb 26, 2013
• ISBN: 9781897562710

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www.lachesispublishing.com

Published Internationally by Lachesis Publishing Inc.,

Rockland, Ontario, Canada

Copyright © 2005 Lindy Hudis

Exclusive cover © 2012 Carole Spencer

Inside artwork © 2012 Carole Spencer

All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher, Lachesis Publishing, Inc., is an infringement of the copyright law.

Previously published in by Whiskey Creek Press in e-book format, 2005. This book has been edited and revised for re-publication.

A catalogue record for the print format of this title is available from the National Library of Canada.

ISBN 978-1-897562-70-3

A catalogue record for the Ebook is available from the

National Library of Canada.

Multiple Ebook formats are available from

www.lachesispublishing.com

ISBN 978-1-897562-71-0

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The author and publisher recognize and respect any trademarks mentioned in this book by introducing such registered titles either in italics or with a capital letter.

Dedication

To my family – Steve, Cameron and Veronica. Also, to the big wonderful city of Los Angeles, if it were not for you and your craziness, this book and my life would never have happened.

                      City of Toys

Prologue

It was well after midnight in the City of Angels. She sat on the roof of her apartment building and stared out at the enormous electric ocean. The glittering lights of Hollywood sparkled like multi-colored sequins against the black velvet sky. I can’t take it anymore, the beautiful, young woman thought, I can’t take this pain. She had just swallowed a whole bottle of Paxil and chased it down with a fifth of vodka. The girl had not planned on committing suicide, but what she had gone through in Tinseltown was enough to make anyone want to end it all.

She hated her life, hated the world and, most of all, hated herself. It certainly was not what she had envisioned; the Hollywood dreams she’d had ever since she was a little girl. The lonely, young woman from a painful childhood was desperate for inclusion in the glittering world of fame and fortune. She was desolate, regretful, and had seen the devil himself in this City of Angels. She also knew she was just one of thousands of lost souls who needed to be loved and adored by the whole world, just like the movie stars were. Hurting, forlorn, lost souls were everywhere in Los Angeles, and there was nothing anyone could do. It didn’t happen for her; it didn’t happen for a lot of people, and she simply didn’t want to accept that.

Weeping convulsively, the young woman staggered to the edge of the building and looked down. She stumbled and clutched the handrail. Feeling dizzy and hopeless, she gazed down at the luminosity that was a fantasyland. She thought about all that had happened to her, and the awful things she had done. She had done some terrible things in order to survive. She threw one leg over the railing, holding tightly with one hand. The colored lights seemed to blur into one big blob of glitter, and she thought she might retch. Goodbye, Hollywood, she cried to herself. With that, she let go of the handrail and plunged to her death onto the well-manicured lawn at the foot of the Hollywood Hills.

Chapter 1

The morning sun sparkled high in the sky above Los Angeles, and the summer heat had not yet fully invaded the curious world known as Hollywood. A cool, coastal breeze drifted in from the Pacific Ocean, so the infamous L.A. smog was not going to permeate the atmosphere too severely. The traffic at the intersection of Franklin Avenue and La Brea was typical, bumper to bumper and road rage simmering from tempestuous drivers. But, it was made even worse today by the arrival of a large moving van in front of the building.

The Franklin Regency was a five-story dwelling that loomed on the southwest corner of the crossway, halfway between the sparkling wealth of the Hollywood Hills and the sordid madness that was Hollywood Boulevard.

Everywhere beautiful, young people with fabulous faces and perfect bodies – every single one of them a struggling actor, model or something or other, trying to keep the bitterness at bay – jogged, walked dogs, hurried to auditions and roller-bladed. While the homeless (and other un-lovely denizens of ‘paradise’ almost equal in number) who had long ago lost the spark of life, seemed to blend into the background, completely ignored and snubbed by the bronzed gods and goddesses scurrying to an audition for a laxative commercial.

Awe-filled and often-disappointed tourists took it all in, recording it on film and video for the folks back home, wherever that may be. In the bright, mirrored lobby of the Franklin Regency, however, all was cheerful and sanguine. Rhonda McNutt talked excitedly on a pay phone to her father back in Cordova, Tennessee. Rhonda was nineteen, beautiful, and in the process of moving into the Franklin Regency Apartments.

Yes, poppa, the truck just got here. She spoke into the receiver with her thick Southern drawl. Outside, the large van containing all of her worldly possessions had pulled up to the curb. Rhonda had driven out to Los Angeles the week before, and was still in shock that she was actually here. She looked vigilantly around the lobby, at the longhaired rocker guys covered with tattoos, the sexy, gorgeous blondes, and the older men who could not resist winking at her as they passed by. She knew she was in a whole new place, but that didn’t matter. She was in Hollywood, and she was determined to be an actress. I’m here, and I’m going to make it! I’m going to be a star!

All right, poppa, I’ll call you as soon as the phone is turned on...I love you too, poppa. Bye. She gently hung up the phone, and waited for Marina Edwards, the apartment manager. An older woman stepped out of the elevator, clad in a severe dark business suit, and walked purposefully towards the front door.

She turned and gave Rhonda a nasty look, then stepped outside, chatting deliberately into a cell phone. Rhonda sat on a pink plush couch and waited while the moving men began to unload her furniture. She stared up at the famous James Dean poster on the wall. ‘The Boulevard of Broken Dreams’ was the caption underneath. Not for me, Rhonda thought, my dreams of Hollywood stardom are going to come true. She had dreamt of being a movie star since she was five, and nothing was going to stand in the way of her goals. Finally, the elevator doors opened, and Marina stepped out, accompanied by a tall, beautiful redhead.

I’m glad this place is centrally located, my agent says I need to get to my auditions quickly. She told Marina curtly, glancing down at her watch.

We’re just fifteen minutes from Burbank and Warner Brothers, and five minutes from Hollywood and Paramount. Marina explained. The girl pursed her lips and gripped her designer handbag.

Well, I’ll think about it. I live in Pasadena now, and my agent is on my case about being late to auditions all the time. Things are starting to happen for me, and my agent tells me that I need to be close to the studios, she said a little too loudly, glancing over at Rhonda to make sure she overheard.

She thrust her hand out to Marina, who smiled. I’ll call you. The girl turned sharply on her heel and headed out the front door, not without sneaking a quick glimpse of Rhonda. She gave Rhonda an uppish glance, and darted out the door.

Marina. Rhonda jumped up and cheerfully bounded over to her.

Hey you! Come on in. Marina unlocked the office door and the two of them ambled in. Marina was in her late thirties, blonde and beautiful, with very white teeth and an enormous smile. The two women had met a few days before, when Rhonda noticed the ‘Now Renting’ sign out front as she was driving around. Marina had leased her a single apartment on the first floor, and now it was time to go over little details. The moving men were placing Rhonda’s things in the lobby.

Apartment 122, right? Marina smiled sweetly. She smelled of Noxzema and peppermint chewing gum.

Rhonda was so excited she could barely contain herself. My God, I’m really here!

Yes, ma’am, she answered.

Please, don’t call me ma’am. Marina laughed, taking a swig from her Evian water bottle.

I’m sorry. Rhonda lowered her eyes. Out in the lobby the moving men were growing agitated, waiting for Rhonda to unlock her apartment. A cute brunette and a pretty Asian girl strode through the lobby, looked at the furniture, then glanced at Rhonda in the rental office. They whispered something to each other, burst into laughter and then disappeared into the elevator.

Here are your keys. This one’s for the main door, the small one’s for the mailbox, and this one’s for your apartment. Also, here is your copy of the lease agreement. Marina grinned broadly and handed them to Rhonda. Now, if you need anything, sweetie, please don’t hesitate to call me. I’m as close as the phone.

Thank you. Rhonda smiled, and got up to leave.

Oh, and when you are done unpacking, go hang out on the roof for a while. Marina pulled out a lip-gloss and painted on a shiny pink mouth.

The roof?

Yeah, I didn’t have time to show you yesterday. We have a rooftop pool and spa area. Just take the elevator up to the top. You’ll love it. she winked.

I’ll do that. Rhonda smiled and led the moving men down the hall to unit 122.

After the movers had deposited all her boxes and furniture, Rhonda decided to take Marina’s advice and visit the rooftop pool area. As she ventured into the lobby, she spied Marina in her office, the door closed, having what looked like a serious discussion with a gorgeous blonde in a sexy red dress. Not wanting to disturb Marina, Rhonda looked around the lobby, unsure how to get to the roof area.

Excuse me, but how do you get to the roof? Rhonda asked a middle-aged woman in a dark, designer business suit.

Take the elevator to the fifth floor, the pool area is up there, she grumbled, then went back to her important cell phone conversation.

Thank you, Ma’am. Rhonda smiled, as the woman shot her a nasty look, then hurried on. Rhonda pressed the ‘Up’ button, stepped onto the elevator, and made her way to the fifth floor.

The rooftop pool area was serene, with a sweeping, panoramic city view that swept all the way from downtown Los Angeles to the beach. One could even make out LAX in the distance. The sky was clear, with very little smog, and the sun looked luminous over the Pacific Ocean. The outlines of the buildings in Century City were silhouetted against the turquoise sky, and the flurrying sounds of the great metropolis were bustling all around her.

Rhonda decided to take a much-needed rest and made herself comfortable on a white, plastic lounge chair. She took in the view and beamed, as a warm breeze blew through her long hair.

The rumble of the Jacuzzi whirlpool was comforting and she closed her eyes. She was going to spend the rest of the day unpacking and getting her phone turned on, but first, she needed to collect her thoughts. This is it. There is no turning back now. No going back to Tennessee a failure. I’ve simply gotta make it! She glanced around the roof and noticed a gorgeous blonde girl in a white string bikini, kicking back on a beach towel, listening to her headphones.

There were also two men; one a cute young California dude with long blonde hair and tattoos, the other one potbellied, bald and scary looking. Both were staring at her. She smiled nervously and went back to gazing out at the vast city in front of her.

Hi.

Rhonda turned to see the rocker pulling a chair towards her.

Hello. She smiled.

What’s your name? he asked, grinning.

Rhonda.

Hi, Rhonda, I’m GG Spot. Nice to meet you. He extended his hand. She noticed that he had a ‘Betty Boop’ tattoo on his right forearm and a ‘Mighty Mouse’ tattoo on his left one. I’m the lead singer of a band called ‘Lick’, ever hear of us? He grinned. Rhonda shook her head. We play at the Roxy all the time. You should come check us out. He flipped his waist-length hair and smiled foxily at her, his bangle bracelets jangling.

I just moved here today, she told him.

Actress?

Uh huh.

I would have never guessed.

The blonde on the beach towel had removed her headphones to eavesdrop, as was the weird bald guy. The girl made a nasally sound at Rhonda and pulled out a People magazine.

I have just as good a shot as anybody She shrugged and turned her gaze toward the breathtaking view. It’s my dream, and I’m going after it.

Hey, I’m a musician. I’m one to talk. He winked.

How long have you been out here?

Three years, that’s forever out here. He shrugged, lighting up a cigarette.

Three years? Wow, what do you do for money?

This and that, why?

Just asking.

What are you planning to do for survival cash? He blew smoke rings into the air.

I have some saved, but I will be a star soon, so I am not going to worry about it. She smiled confidently.

Wanna watch me jerk off? a male voice behind them said.

I beg your pardon? Rhonda turned around and spied the homely bald man leering at her.

I own this building, and I have a big dick. Wanna see? He stood up and approached Rhonda, rubbing his crotch.

Fuck off, asshole, GG told him.

Ten thousand dollars says you won’t make it. Ten thousand dollars says you wind up a crack whore. Fuck you, fuck you all, the man bellowed and vanished down a stairwell.

That’s ‘Psycho Joe’. He’s the building nutcase. We actually have several of those, GG explained.

Nice.

He’s harmless, just weird. Came out here to be an actor thirty years ago. He’s still waiting tables at Denny’s. He used to squirt people with a water hose from his balcony. He just went nuts, he told her.

Really? Wow, Rhonda asked wide-eyed. The blonde girl glared at them with contempt, gathered her towel and headed downstairs, flouncing her gorgeous, long hair at Rhonda and snickering as she passed.

Welcome to Hollywood, GG said knowingly.

Rhonda just nodded. I won’t let the other girls bother me. They may all have dreams of being a star, too, but I’m the one that is dreaming the hardest.

Marina sat in the office with the door closed, trying to have her lunch. She turned the phone to voice mail, put away the last of the morning paperwork, and poured herself a cup of coffee from the coffeemaker in the corner. As she sat in her chair to bite into a juicy hotdog from Pinks, there was a frantic pounding on the door.

We’re at lunch. Come back later, she called, over the continuous, annoying banging.

Marina, it’s Marlo Gillotti. We spoke on the phone yesterday. I just got in from New York. My plane was late, a female voice called though the door.

Just a minute. Marina got up and opened the door and Marlo bounded in, pulling her two large suitcases behind her. She plopped on a chair in front of Marina’s desk and exhaled loudly.

Marlo was twenty-five and very pretty in a tough, inner-city kind of way. She ran her hands through her short black hair and withdrew a cigarette from her purse.

No smoking in the office, Marina told her.

Oh, sorry. Those non-smoking flights are torture. Couldn’t smoke in the cab either. California.

How long was it?

Seven hours, with a screaming baby on one side, and a fat man with B.O. on the other. She spoke clearly, but with a New York accent that could sharpen knives.

I can imagine. Marina took a lease agreement out of her desk and handed it to Marlo.

I really appreciate you opening the office for me. The traffic from LAX sucked. Marlo looked over the paperwork. Did you get the deposit I FedEx’ed you?

Sure did. Marina wet her thumb as she flipped through the stack of papers.

Sure is hot outside. I’ve always loved the West Coast weather. Back east it’s still chilly. Marlo smiled. Marina finally found her notes and examined them.

You’re all set. Here are the keys to Apartment 114.

Thank God I rented a furnished apartment. I gotta crash, if you know what I mean.

I’m having a day like that myself. Marina stood up and shook hands with Marlo, anxious to get back to her hot dog.

Marina, thanks again for everything. Renting an apartment to me over the phone and all.

You are one brave lady, taking an apartment sight-unseen.

Hey, anything is better than the Lower East Side dump I came from, Marlo exclaimed, cramming the lease into her over-stuffed purse.

Well, call me if you need anything. Marina smiled before taking a huge bite of her lunch.

Sure. Marlo nodded and proceeded out of the lobby and down the hall.

Marlo pulled her luggage behind her through the pink-carpeted hallway, searching for Apartment 114. A tall, beautiful brunette clad in a tight red dress and sexy high heels sauntered by and scowled at her.

Hiya. Marlo smiled, trying to make nice to her new neighbors, but the girl ignored her. Friendly building, Marlo muttered. She finally arrived at Apartment 114, unlocked the door and stepped inside.

It was a decent single apartment, with a gas fireplace and a postage-stamp sized balcony. She switched on a light and proceeded to unpack, pulling out a nightgown and some bedclothes. She grabbed a small bottle of scotch from her bag and took a long swig. After a second, she wandered over to the balcony, opened the sliding glass door and stepped out.

She watched as a carload of teenagers zoomed by in a red convertible, hooting and whistling at a girl with long brown hair walking her Chihuahua. The girl giggled and waved back coyly. Marla watched with a wry grin, and sighed. A warm summer breeze lightly flowed through her hair, and she closed her eyes and took a long whiff. California, I’m finally here. Are you going to be good to me? A police siren wailed in the distance, and people bustled in and out of the building.

 Exhausted, Marlo went back inside and slid the glass door shut. She removed her belongings from her two suitcases, gently removing a framed picture of herself and a woman who was an older version of her. Marlo held the picture for a moment and reminisced as she placed the picture on the table next to the bed. Too tired to even take a shower, she changed into a tee shirt and sweat pants and flopped onto the single bed, switched on a lamp, and reached for her cigarettes. Lighting one, she slouched back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling and exhaling slowly as the smoke formed into a snakelike coil in the air. She took another gulp of scotch and glanced over at the picture on the nightstand.

Now, Marlo, remember, what did I say to do at the audition? the woman said to the little girl, clad in a pink tutu and slippers.

Make pretty feet for the judges, right, Mommy? Marlo answered.

And, what else?

Smile big.

And?

Dainty fingers.

Very good! You will be the prettiest little dancer there, the woman told her, jerking her daughter by the hand up the rickety stairs to the dance studio. There were about fifteen other little girls there with their mommies, waiting to be seen, and little Marlo began to get scared.

Mommy? What if I mess up?

You won’t sweetie, we went over it a hundred times last night. Now don’t be nervous. The woman turned to the little girl and fussed with her hair and pinched her cheeks. "Remember what I told you, sweetie, Mommy never made it as a dancer because God doesn’t love me. But God loves you, and you will be a famous dancer one day, right, sweetie? The woman pulled out a lipstick and painted a bright red mouth on her daughter. God did not let my dreams come true, but He will help you with yours. God loves you more than He ever loved me." She smiled at the little girl and kissed her affectionately on the forehead.

Right, Mommy, I will be a famous dancer one day.

What else do you say? The woman held the little girl firmly by her shoulders.

I love you, Mommy, the little girl said.

That’s right.

By late afternoon, Rhonda had unpacked most of her things except one box left that would not budge. She tried pulling it apart with every ounce of strength she had, but it was wound with almost a ton of thick, black masking tape. She tried calling Marina to see if she could borrow a pair of scissors, but the office was closed.

The box contained all of her bedding, so she needed to get it open. She tried one more time to tear through the heavy tape, but to no avail. Tentatively, she opened the door and glanced down the hallway. She saw no one. Oh, well, she thought, no time like the present to meet your neighbors. She went next door to Apartment 123 and knocked on the door. There was no answer, but she heard loud music coming from inside. She knocked again, louder. Finally, an irate looking, obese man flung the door open. He eyed Rhonda angrily.

What the fuck do you want, bitch? he shouted at her.

I...I’m sorry to bother you, she stammered

Then don’t! He slammed the door in her face, the noise echoing in the empty hallway. She stood there alone, close to tears. The door to an apartment across the hall opened, and a dark-haired girl poked her head out.

What the hell is all the shouting about? she asked, Are you all right?

Rhonda shook her head and burst into tears. Some fat man just yelled at me and called me the B-word..

Yeah, well, get used to it. Fat, ugly guys hate young pretty girls, especially here. Don’t let it get to you. Hell, take it as a compliment. The girl smiled sweetly at Rhonda, who giggled slightly.

I moved here today, and I just wanted to borrow some scissors.

Hey, I just moved here today, too. I think I might have some scissors, let me check. The girl disappeared into her apartment. Rhonda noticed that it was Apartment 114, right across the hall from her. The girl came back out into the hallway, holding a pair of scissors.

Today is your lucky day. She handed them to Rhonda.

Thank you.

I’m Marlo. The girl smiled and held out her hand.

"Rhonda. I’m in 122, right across from you."

Well, it was nice to meet you Rhonda, but I have to go to bed. Keep the scissors as long as you like, Marlo told her.

Thank you.

And don’t worry about being called the B-word. Know how many times I’ve been called that?

Rhonda laughed, and opened the door to her apartment. I’ll give these back tomorrow, she told Marlo.

Sure, whenever. Good night.

Good night.

Both girls disappeared into their apartments and closed the door as night fell on the City of Angels.

The next morning was a busy one, and Marina sat in the rental office sipping her coffee and going through the notes of the day. It was a little after nine, and the lobby was busy with people leaving for work, auditions and various other activities. The constant ringing of the telephone was almost drowned out by a nearby lawn mower, and the bright morning sunlight shone brilliantly through the window. She had the radio set to STAR98 and was listening to ‘The Jamie and Danny Morning Show’. Both said that the day was going to be a scorcher, over a hundred degrees. Great.

Knock, knock, a pleasant voice said. Marina looked up to see Guyla Bump, one of the building’s many aspiring actress tenants, looking cheery. Guyla was twenty-six and attractive, but not beautiful. She was dressed in a purple business suit and carried a stack of headshots under her arm.

Hey you! How’s the play going? Marina asked her.

We closed last weekend, I’m so glad it’s over. It was getting to be a pain in the ass.

You girls are always in something. What was it called again?

"A Midsummer Night’s Dream," Guyla answered.

And, who wrote that?

William Shakespeare.

Oh. Of course. I read that in high school. I’m sorry I missed it. Marina smiled at her.

Look, I hate to bring this up again, but the weirdo is back up on the roof. Guyla took a more serious tone.

Oh, no. What happened? Marina exhaled sharply and shook her head.

He pulled out his dick and started jerking off.

Oh, God. When did this happen? Marina asked her,

Yesterday, I tried to tell you then, but your office was closed.

We had two new tenants move in yesterday, I was totally busy.

Two more tenants move in? Two more actresses? Guyla raised her eyebrows.

How’d you guess?

Stellar! Guyla rolled her eyes. More competition, not good.

Anyway, about ‘Psycho Joe’, I’ll talk to him again.

Thanks, hon. I just won’t go up to the pool area anymore.

Oh, no! You go up there and enjoy the pool. If he so much as looks at you, I’ll have him evicted.

You’re the best, Marina!