Marilyn & Me Read Online Free Page A

little makeup, looked almost ordinary that morning. Pat Newcomb was there, partially silhouetted againstthe window, a lean athletic look about her. Marilyn was preoccupied with the tiles and jumped right into conversation with me. “Larry, let me borrow your one good eye.”
    Pat looked puzzled by this remark, but I thought it was funny.
    “What do you think of these?” Marilyn asked, pointing to a couple of tiles. “I’m redoing the kitchen. I’m picking them out myself.”
    “Hi,” I said to her and looked down at the tiles. “Nice to see you again.”
    “You too, Larry.” Then Marilyn said something like, “You get any badder since I last saw you?”
    Again, I remember Pat Newcomb looking confused. One good eye? Badder? What was Marilyn talking about?
    “Quite a bit,” I said. I was pleased that she remembered our joking, but I knew that this wasn’t the time to talk about myself.
    “So, whaddya think? Which color tiles should I get for the kitchen?”
    “I like the blue,” I said.
    “Nah,” she replied. “That’s swimming pool color.”
    Pat Newcomb was getting restless, and she suggested that we get started on the matter at hand. In time I would come to understand that Pat was fiercely loyal to Marilyn. Her job was to protect Marilyn from the press. But Pat was more than just a protector: she was Marilyn’s friend andconfidante. She had devoted herself to Marilyn and was a true professional in every aspect of her job.
    In the living room, Marilyn got down to business. “I don’t think there should be a lot of photographers shooting me on this movie,” she said in her breathless voice. “Like the studio did on
The Misfits
.”
    Then Pat continued on behalf of Marilyn. “I’m sure you and
Paris Match
can supply other foreign magazines with pictures.”
    “I’ve seen Elliott Erwitt’s pictures.” I didn’t know what else to say.
    “Elliott’s sweet,” Marilyn replied.
    “What did you think of Inge Morath?” I asked, referring to another photographer who had covered that movie. “She’s a pretty extraordinary photographer!” From Marilyn’s expression I could immediately tell that I’d made a mistake.
    “Well,” Marilyn said, holding her breath for a beat, “she wound up marrying my ex-husband just a few months ago.” Then she changed the subject. “I’d like you to shoot me with Wally,” Marilyn said, meaning her co-star Wally Cox. “He’s so funny.”
    “What I’d really like to shoot is—”
    “Wait, let me guess,” she interrupted me. “Splish-splash.”
    “The pool sequence is sure to be published everywhere,” I said. “It’ll be just like Sam Shaw’s photo of you from
TheSeven Year Itch
,” referring to the famous image of her with her white dress flying up and her underwear showing.
    She thought for a while and then continued. “I’ve been thinking about this scene. I’ll have the bathing suit on when I jump in, but I’m thinking about coming out without it.”
    Interrupting, Pat said to her, “You’re joking, aren’t you?”
    Not responding to Pat’s comment, Marilyn went on in a slightly stronger voice. She was now looking at me as she spoke. “Fox should start paying as much attention to me as they are paying to Elizabeth Taylor.” She was referring to the fact that Taylor was receiving $1 million for
Cleopatra
and she was only getting $100,000. Everyone knew the studio was generating publicity from Taylor’s affair with Richard Burton. Now it looked like Marilyn wanted to show Fox that she could get the same kind of coverage without having an affair with someone.
    “Larry,” she said, looking intently at me. “If I do come out of the pool with nothing on, I want your guarantee that when your pictures appear on the covers of magazines, Elizabeth Taylor is not anywhere in the same issue.”
    “You’re really thinking of doing this?” Pat asked.
    “I’m not sure,” Marilyn replied.
    I looked at Pat, remembering newsreel footage of