Free My Story by Marilyn Monroe, Ben Hecht

your wife on your yacht, Mr. X.,” I said.
    The great man looked fiercely at me.
    â€œLeave my wife out of this,” he said. “There’ll be nobody on the yacht except you and me. And some expensive sailors. We’ll leave in an hour. And we’ll take a cruise overnight. I have to be back tomorrow evening for my wife’s dinner party. No way of getting out of it.”
    He stopped and scowled at me again.
    â€œWhat’s the idea of standing there and staring at me,” he demanded, “like I had insulted you. I know who you are. You’re Joe Schenck’s girl. He called me up to do him a favor and give you a job. Is that a reason for you to get insulting?”
    I smiled at the great man.
    â€œI don’t mean to be insulting, Mr. X,” I said.
    â€œGood,” he was beaming again. “We’ll have a fine cruise, and I can tell you now, you won’t regret it.”
    He put his arms around me. I didn’t move.
    â€œI’m very grateful to you for the invitation, Mr. X,” I said, “but I’m busy this week and so I shall have to refuse it.”
    His arm dropped from me. I started for the door. He stood still, and I felt I had to say something else. He was a great man, and he held my future in his hands. Seducing employees was just a normal routine for him. I mustn’t act as if I thought he was some kind of monster, or he would never—
    I turned in the doorway. Mr. X was standing glaring at me. I had never seen a man so angry. I made my voice as casual and friendly as I could.
    â€œI hope you invite me some time again when I can accept your invitation,” I said.
    The great man pointed his finger at me.
    â€œThis is your last chance,” he said fiercely.
    I walked through the door and out of the office where movie stars were made.
    â€œMaybe he’s watching me,” I thought. “I mustn’t let him see me upset.”
    I drove to my room in my car. Yes, there was something special about me, and I knew what it was. I was the kind of girl they found dead in a hall bedroom with an empty bottle of sleeping pills in her hand.

14
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the police enter my life
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    But things weren’t entirely black—not yet. They really never are. When you’re young and healthy you can plan on Monday to commit suicide, and by Wednesday you’re laughing again.
    After lying around for a few days feeling sorry for myself and feeling what a failure I was, something would come back into my heart again. I wouldn’t say things out loud, but I could hear them as if voices were talking to me, get up, you haven’t begun yet, you’re different, something wonderful is going to happen.
    And wonderful things did happen on the ocean bottom—in a small way.
    I met kind people.
    I had met a married couple who lived in Burbank in a small house. They said to me one evening while I was visiting them, “We’re going away for a few months. Why don’t you just live in our house while we’re gone and save rent?”
    I moved my suitcase and make up box to Burbank. I owned one suit, two plain dresses, two pairs of shoes, some darned stockings, a little lingerie, and a bathrobe. Moving wasn’t hard.

    It was around Christmas time, and I was worrying about where I would get money to buy a few Christmas presents with. It had been fun buying presents when I was on the studio payroll. I bought them chiefly for Aunt Grace or Aunt Anna.
    When Aunt Grace was ill I would go shopping a whole day for her and buy a silk bed jacket, silk slippers, a fancy nightgown, and a bottle of perfume. I would put them all in one box and take it to her. Her happiness on seeing all the things in the box was worth a thousand times more than what they had cost.
    This Christmas everything seemed extra gloomy. Not only had I flopped in my career, but there was a laziness in me that kept me from getting jobs. I preferred to lie around feeling sorry