Marilyn's Ghost Read online

  “Thank you very much. I’ll call Robert today and as soon as I have the photos I’ll come back.”

  “Perfect. It was a pleasure, Pam.”

  “Also, Samantha.”

  Pam left after Samantha fired the assistant’s assistant without hesitating in front of her for not let the aspiring actress in. Marilyn laughed, Pam however, felt guilty for them firing her and looked sadly at the assistant’s assistant, whose smile had disappeared.

  When they got home, Marilyn made Pam called the photographer.

  “You are worse than my mother,” said Pam, rolling her eyes.

  She called and Robert, photographer of prestigious actors in Los Angeles, also had the help of an assistant’s assistant who gave her an appointment for the following week in his studio when she heard Samantha Moore’s name.

  “That’s great!” said Marilyn, enjoying herself. “Now you can rest a little.”

  “Finally! I have a date with Brad in three hours.”

  “I had forgotten about that madman.”

  “Madman? Marilyn!”

  “You will prove me right.”

  For the date with Brad, Pam picked a low-cut, fluffy, navy blue dress.

  “So for this date you decide to put a vintage dress on,” Marilyn laughed. “You’re too funny.”

  “Are you not coming with me?”

  “No, no, I don’t want to know anything about dates, men or love.”

  “Why not?”

  “We haven’t even spent twenty-four hours together. I’m not going to tell you about my life yet.”

  “You already told me some bits.”

  “Only the bits that people know. But remember this: a wise girl kisses but doesn’t love, listens but doesn’t believe, and leaves before she is left. I came to this conclusion after being disappointed many times. It is up to you to make mistakes and learn from them, or to listen to me and not suffer.”

  Pam rolled her eyes again. To kiss without falling in love? Marilyn’s ghost had a worrying coldness.

  After a while, Pam left and said goodbye to Marilyn’s ghost, who asked her to drink a Dom Perignon to her health. The platinum blonde returned to sit on the sofa like a disconnected robot. But on this occasion, she was absorbed by the Seven Year Itch from 1955, one of her films that Pam had left playing on the television.

  CHAPTER 6

  IF IT MAKES YOU HAPPY,

  IT’S CAN’T BE THAT BAD

  (Marilyn Monroe)

  When Pam got to her date, Brad was waiting for her at one of the tables of the St Felix Hollywood restaurant, wearing a worn black shirt and ripped Jeans. He looked irresistibly modern, irresistible in every way.

  “How are you?” Brad asked, standing up from his seat and kissing her cheek.

  “Very good. It’s been a busy day. And you?”

  “Practicing with the group,” Brad answered, wheezing.

  Pam explained her morning adventure at the agent’s office and Brad told her with enthusiasm, details of the acting classes at the studio, secrets of his band and family details. It was as if they had known each other forever, there was a magic connection between them that it seemed not only Pam felt. Brad also seemed enchanted with the young aspiring actress. Pam thought about Marilyn, what if she was right? Should she not trust Brad? What if he did this with all the girls? She decided to forget the diva’s warnings and enjoy the night. She suddenly realized Brad awakened passion in young women. Many of those that entered the restaurant looked at him sideways, smiling unashamedly. But not him. He was centered on his date with Pam, observing every movement, every smile. Would she be the one? Aged twenty-five, Brad was not looking to find the one. He did not believe in fairytales, nor in princes and princesses, not even in love at first sight or in soulmates. He did not even know what it was to love a woman that was not his mother. From a well-to-do family in New York, Brad had always had everything comes easily to him. He did not need to work, his parents paid for his acting classes and for his spacious apartment in a good area of Los Angeles. With the band, he had started to earn some extra money that he used for his whims. His last had been a magnet to women, a red convertible.

  They ate delicious hamburgers with french fries. They both laughed when they accidentally spilled ketchup on themselves. They had a lot in common, a lot to talk about, many reasons to feel irremediable attraction for each other.

  “What type of films would you like to star in?” Brad asked.

  “Romantic comedies, I love them. You?”

  “Action films. Although I love horror movies too.”

  “Yes? I don’t know if I would be able to, especially with all the curses that exist on horror movie sets.”

  “Curses? Do you believe in those things?” Pam shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t even believe in spirits.”

  “Well, look what happened to the stars of poltergeist.”

  “That’s what they say. But no, you’re not going to convince me,” said Brad laughing. “Imagine they offer you five million dollars for a horror movie, would you turn it down?”

  “Five million?” Pam laughed. “I would do it even if a curse of fifty years fell on me!” she exclaimed, eating a fry.

  “There you go. That’s how it works in Hollywood.”

  “Do you think we have a shot?”

  “We are young good-looking, why not?”

  “You think I’m good looking?” Pam asked, blushing.

  “Very much. You’re the most beautiful girl I have seen in actors studio.”

  “You tell all girls that,” said Pam, remembering the perfect young women she saw when she entered the studio.

  “Who do you take me for?” asked Brad, offended.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. But I don’t want you to think that of me. It annoys me. I don’t say it all the girls, in fact I don’t say it ever to anyone.”

  “Then I should feel flattered,” whispered Pam, although a small voice inside her head told her that Brad played his role very well.

  At eleven, they headed to the piano bar that Pam knew and where an hour later Brad would play with his band. The other three boys were just as handsome as Brad, although shy and reserved, they didn’t pay too much attention to her. The bar filled up with young people, especially fans of Brad’s band, something that surprised Pam as she thought they would be less well-known. The audience, mostly young women, knew the songs by heart. Pam was in the first row like another fan, and was proud to be the center of Brad’s attention, who often sang with his eyes closed, enjoying the moment. It was easy to tell he felt true passion for what he did and it was a gift to the ears of everyone present in the piano bar. When the moment came that he began to sing a ballad called My Heart Beats Strongly for You Pam’s hair stood on end and at that point her gaze met Brad’s, she could understand each and every love song. She did not know if she had fallen for Brad, his voice, the lyrics of his songs, the powerful scene or his magnetic gaze… that gaze that had her bewitched. She was lost. She had ignored Marilyn, but just as the young woman had told her, love is a feeling that is not decided. It is inevitable, it appears like the fury of a hurricane and when it is felt, it is impossible to find a time machine to go back and completely forget it.

  Brad came off the stage sweaty, and after taking photos with his fans, he ran up to Pam who was waiting for him with her navy blue dress and and invisible ketchup stain that darkened the tissue.

  “What did you think?”

  “I loved it,” Pam answered, still euphoric after the hour and a half of concert she had just lived through.

  “Do you want to come back to my place?”

  “No, I’m going home. I have a long day tomorrow,” Pam answered.

  The truth is that she did want to go to Brad’s apartment, to take off her dress, kiss him passionately and loose her virginity. With him. Just with him. At this moment, she decided to listen to Marilyn in case Brad really was one of those boys that when they got what they wanted, would lose interest
and go in search of another dumb girl that would lose their head for him.

  “Really? The night could end so well!” Brad exclaimed, frowning.

  “It has ended well. I really liked your concert but it’s late and I have to go home.”

  “As you wish,” Brad said, disappointed, flicking back a lock of brown hair from his sweaty forehead.

  “I’ll see you around,” said Pam, giving him giving him a kiss on the cheek.

  When Pam turned to leave, Brad took her arm and quickly pulling her closer to him, he gave her the best kiss the young woman had ever had. The band’s fans hissed her from afar but Pam, savoring this precious romantic and intense kiss that she had only seen in films, did not listen to them. When their lips separated, Pam looked at Brad’s honey-colored eyes, mesmerized, that were looking at her with desire. But no, she would not go to his apartment. Not that night. Wanting to kiss him again, Pam smiled and left.

  “That one is not going to be easy, Brad,” said Stuart, one of the guy’s from the band.

  “That’s what makes it more interesting,” Brad answered with a grin.

  CHAPTER 7

  A PRETTY WOMAN DOESN’T FLIRT,

  JUST SMILES

  (Marilyn Monroe)

  Pam got home at 2.15 in the morning. It surprised her to see Marilyn watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s. How had she managed to put the DVD in the player?

  “Shouldn’t you’ve gone to bed with him?” was the first thing the ghost asked, without taking her gaze away from Audrey Hepburn sat at the window singing with her guitar. This was Pam’s favorite scene.

  “No. I listened to you.”

  “But…”

  “But it’s just he is so…”

  “So?” Marilyn asked, arching her eyebrows.

  “Anyway, forget it.”

  Pam sat at her side, determined to watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s again, until fatigue beat her and halfway through the film she fell asleep on the sofa. Marilyn covered her with a blanket and looked at her with fondness as if she were the daughter she had never had.

  “Sleep well, Pam. Sleep and may your dreams become reality,” she whispered in her ear.

  When she woke up, Pam looked at her cellphone with the hope of having received a message from Brad. She was disappointed when she realized she had not. Brad had not remembered her when he woke up.

  “Don’t write to him,” Marilyn advised.

  “I wasn’t going to. But not because you’re telling me.”

  “What are you doing today?”

  “Nothing! I’m tired.”

  “Tired? Age twenty-four you’re tired? I don’t understand the youth of today, really.”

  “Says the one that even God couldn’t wake up and help get out of bed to get to a shoot on time.”

  “Those were other times,” Marilyn said in her defense, smiling.

  They spent the day watching cinema classics, talking to pass the time and between many smiles, especially when they saw the photo sales through the image bank on the web domain and that Pam would no longer need to work as a waitress thanks to this extra income.

  “ And without doing anything!” she exclaimed, seeing how her photo income increased with the passing hours.

  “It’s stupendous. Invest in yourself with this money,” Marilyn advised. “You have a photo session on Thursday, Wednesday go to the hairdresser’s. In Hollywood a girl’s virtue is much less important than her hair-do, always remember that.”

  “Yes! I will go.”

  “I thought I was annoying.”

  “You are, Miss Monroe.”

  “It’s for your own good, Miss Miller. Curiously, I haven’t thought that you have the last name of one of my husbands, Arthur Miller,” she recalled sadly.

  Pam did not want to get into much detail. She knew that Arthur Miller had come to a tragic end and that his relation with Marilyn had surely not been a walk in the park. She had always read that Marilyn’s relations were difficult and that she had always felt alone. However, at least the spirit she did not show this frailness or sadness that she had shown in many points of her life. She was happy, self-confident and wise. Pam did not yet know it, but the presence of Marilyn’s ghost would change her life completely. At midday, the awaited WhatsApp message from Brad arrived.

  “Don’t answer immediately,” said Marilyn, looking at her red nails. “He will know you were waiting for his message.”

  “I know!” answered Pam, annoyed. “How long…”

  “Two hours.”

  “Two hours? That’s too much!”

  “It’s enough. Unobtainable kisses are those that make the heart tick.”

  “That sounded nice.”

  “I know. You know what? The best thing about being dead is that I don’t need to go get a manicure. These red nails are eternal!”

  “What luck you have,” said Pam, bored, scratching underneath the cast of her broken arm with the help of a stick.

  Just as Marilyn had recommended, Pam answered Brad’s message after 2 hours. She told him that she also had a good time and that yes, they should go out again soon. When? He responded immediately. “And now what do I tell him?”

  “What would you do without me, Pam?” the diva laughed, looking at Pam with her usual coquetry.

  Pam looked at her sideways, sighing.

  It was true, although it seemed impossible after the initial shock here when she saw Marilyn’s ghost for the first time. Although she had been here with her for such little time, she could no longer imagine her sad life without the divine Madonna. But she was still worried about her mental-health. Was there any possibility it was a hallucination? When she stopped taking the medicine the doctor had prescribed, would Marilyn disappear?

  “Tell him you have a lot of things to do. And that you will make a space in your agenda when you can.”

  “But that sounds like I’m not interested in him… and I’m dying to see him again.”

  “Do it.” When Marilyn ordered, her soft and velvety voice disappeared. She sounded more powerful, stronger. Less peaceful.

  She did it. Once again, she obeyed Marilyn. And it seemed to work. Brad filled Pam’s cellphone’s screen with sad emoticons, who did not know what to say to him and decided to turn off her phone and upload more photographs to the webpage that was making her life much easier, financially speaking. What a discovery! Her account kept going up, Pam continued to ask for her checks insistently, imagining a bank account without red numbers for the first time.

  It was not a special day until Pam sent a message to Brad secretly saying that she wanted to see him that same night. He answered immediately, as usual, and said that he would come pick her up at 8.

  “Where are you going?” Marilyn asked, seeing that Pam was starting to get ready.

  “I’m going out with some friends.”

  “Liar! You’re going out with Brad.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I am an old soul,” Marilyn laughed. “Enjoy the night, dear.”

  “Brad was waiting for Pam at the gate, with his best smile. Without giving her time to say hi, Brad surprised her with a romantic and passionate kiss in the night streets of Los Angeles.

  “Why do you have to do those things?” Pam asked, smiling and trying to imitate Marilyn’s whispering and sexy tone.

  “You don’t like it?”

  “That’s the problem. I like it too much,” the young actress said sincerely.

  Brad and Pam went to eat at a McDonald’s. Nothing romantic but it was appealing. They stained themselves with ketchup again and laughed again. They seemed like too silly teenagers enthralled with each other, wanting to experiment and leave quickly. The hands of the clock struck eleven when Pam let herself be taken to Brad’s apartment. It was nothing like she had imagined. In one of the best areas of Los Angeles, Brad’s apartment seems more like that of a rich executive than that of an acting student that played pop music with his band at local bars of the city.

  “Come h
ere,” Brad said, whispering in her ear and pulling her to the sofa, still kissing the young woman’s full lips.

  Brad pulled Pam on top of him and started to delicately kiss every corner of her skin. Pam wanted to remember this moment for the rest of her life. It was intimate, passionate, sweet, romantic. She gazed fixedly at Brad. It was him. He was the love of her life. The boy with whom tonight she would loose her virginity. Brad was delicate throughout, wild to the point that he caused Pam excitation she had ignored to this point and expert enough to make this young woman want to repeat this experience every day of her life. Brad had become an addiction. Each kiss was a dream and having him inside her made her feel like a new woman. The woman she had always wanted to be.

  Elated, they fell asleep on top of each other at two in the morning. At seven, Brad woke Pam up with a kiss, asking her to leave as he had to go to class. Pam, a little disappointed she was not going to get breakfast in bed as she had seen in romantic Hollywood films, went messy-haired and sleepily back to her apartment, where Marilyn was waiting for her as ever, sat on the sofa.

  “Get ready to suffer,” Marilyn warned her, when she saw Pam arrive home hollow-eyed and tired.

  “I’m not here to talk. I’m going to bed.”

  Pam slept till one in the afternoon without waking up and with Brad on her mind. Deception and anger took hold of the young woman when she saw that he was online but had not written to her.

  “I told you,” Marilyn reminded her. “It’s okay Pam, consider it a new experience.” Marilyn looked at her friend’s eyes fixedly. “You didn’t fall in love, did you?”

  “A little…” Pam admitted, on the verge of tears.

  “No! This one just likes chasing skirts, Pam. He is that kind of guy that you wanted to see something very different in.”

  “It was so nice…”

  “Yes? Your first time was a good experience?” Pam nodded, disillusioned. “I’m happy for you. Do me the favor of changing that expression and smiling. You are young, you have your whole life ahead of you and a thousand boys to get to know.”

  “Okay, maybe he’ll write to me tonight.”

  “Maybe, who knows?” Marilyn said, trying to console her.