The Bear Went Over the Mountain (23 page)

He peeled a piece of bark off the tree and nibbled on its rich interior. The vegetation in Southern California was heavy with juice. That, and the fact that women wore shoelaces between their buns, were strong points in favor of permanently denning here.

A waiter arrived with a serving table on which a breakfast was laid for two. A jar of special honey had been provided, with macadamia nuts floating in it. Beside it lay a folded copy of the
Los Angeles Times
.

“Will there be anything else, sir?” asked the waiter.

“No, that’s all,” said the bear, and signed the bill in his slow, careful style.

When the waiter left, the bear opened the paper and checked the best-seller list.
Destiny and Desire
was still number one.

There was a knock at the door. He opened it for his Hollywood agent.

“Hi,” said Zou Zou Sharr hesitantly, not knowing how things stood between them any longer.

“Come on in,” said the bear genially.

Zou Zou’s outfit—a simple tailored suit—reflected her uncertainty. She didn’t want it to seem as if she were presenting herself as a physical object. He showed her out to the garden, and when she saw the jar of honey, a twinge of melancholy went through her for those first days in New York, before the whirlwind had swept him away to stardom. She laid the tip of her red fingernail on the best-seller page. “You must be very happy.”

He bit into a ten-dollar slice of papaya. “Do you wear a shoelace between your buns?”

“On occasion,” she said nervously. He was the New Presence. He was hot. The A-list actresses were after him. How could she compete? But did the A-list actresses understand him?

“Success has been easy for you, hasn’t it, Hal?” she suggested hopefully.

“Signing my name is tough.”

“What do you mean?” Her emotional antenna folded back down and her business antenna went up. True, he’d signed with her agency, but agreements were made to be broken. Had CAA swept in to grab him? “You’re not going to do better with another agency, Hal, no matter who may be sweet-talking you.”

“If I don’t hold the pen right I make a mess.”

“What kind of a mess?” Her antenna was humming now. CAA
had
moved in, the predatory bastards, and Hal was telling her if he didn’t get what he wanted there was going to be a costly contractual battle. God, he’s such a shrewd negotiator, able to unnerve you with just a few words. “What do you want, Hal? Tell me now before things get ugly. Has CAA offered you a house out here? We’ll get you a better one. With a car, a driver, whatever you want. But we
have
to have your next book.”

“I haven’t been able to find it.”

She saw he was going to stonewall them. There’d be no new book without a new contract. “What have they offered you that we can’t get you too? Whatever you want, Hal, it’s yours. We’ll give you a house, a car, and a maid wearing a shoelace between her buns.” Zou Zou stood, smoothing down the front of her skirt. Any silly romantic notion she’d had when she’d walked in was buried now. She believed in enduring love, but what truly endured was money. “You and I can drive around and look at real
estate. We’d all love to help you settle out here.” She closed her eyes. “I can just see you in Topanga Canyon.”

The telephone rang. The bear cradled it to his ear. “Yes?”

“Hal, this is Elliot. There’s a little problem here in New York.”

“Problem?”

“Some nut is suing you. He claims you stole his book.”

The bear dropped the phone into its cradle. He looked at Zou Zou Sharr, but hardly recognized her.

“Hal, what is it?”

He got up abruptly from the table and looked at the redwood fence.

Now
, said an ancient voice.
While you’ve got the chance. Run!

Primal landscapes flashed past his mind’s eye. He slapped violently at the trunk of the tree, to make loud sounds that would frighten his enemies. Then he grabbed the tree and shook it so violently its roots bulged up from the ground. Zou Zou was only mildly terrified, having seen him in this mood the very first day they’d met. She put out her hand to him. “Hal, it’s me, Zou Zou.”

“Zoo?”

“Zou Zou.”

He swung around, his lips parting in a snarl, and she backed up immediately.

He spied the jar of honey on the table, with macadamias suspended in the golden hue, and he groaned with anguish. My life as a human being, my honey and sunglasses—he groaned again—it’s going to be taken from me.

He leapt toward the table, opened the honey, and drained it down while it was still available. His thoughts went no further than that, the moment was all he had, with its fragments of desires and fears. He started gobbling up the rest of the two breakfasts.

Over the fence!
said the ancient voice.
Follow your nose to freedom!

“Hal,” said Zou Zou, “you can confide in me.”

He looked at her with uncomprehending eyes. What did this female want? Was she connected to the zoo? He let out a roar and tipped over the table.

Zou Zou leapt away. “I’ve caught you at a bad time, Hal. I’ll call later.” She was picking papaya rind off her skirt as she backed up. Her client was clearly out of his mind for the moment, which
can
be a good time to renegotiate. A plateful of eggs came at her through the air. “Call the agency, Hal, we’ll get you anything you want.” She ducked into the hallway and closed the door behind her as another plate struck the wall.

The bear raged around in his private garden, shaking the tree and the fence. Then he bent the iron garden furniture.

There’s no time for that
, said the voice.
Run for your life!

The bear took a last look around at the luxury he must leave behind. He was going to miss feathery pillows and room service. He’d miss lounging around at poolside. He’d miss women’s shiny buns. He picked up the
Los Angeles Times
from the ground, wanting a last look at his name on the best-seller list, but before he found it an advertisement caught his eye.

TITLE FOR SALE

What’s this? wondered the bear. Was it possible he could
buy
his new book? Elliot was always after him for the next title, and here was one for sale. It might solve his current problem of being sued. A second book would make everybody forget about the first one, which he’d stolen. He read the first line of the advertisement.

Nothing wrong with that, thought the bear. A title is a title.

Fine, thought the bear. The previous owner is selling the title. I don’t have to steal it. I buy it.

That’s what I want, thought the bear. Elevated social status, so I can’t be put in a zoo.

The bear set the paper down and called London immediately.

“Bagget and Smallwood.”

“I need to buy a title.”

“One moment, please, I’ll connect you.”
There was a
pause and then a man came on the line,
“Bagget here. How may I help you?”

“I want to buy a title,” said the bear.

“Very good, sir. And you are—?”

“Hal Jam.”

“Calling from?”

“Los Angeles.”

“Yes of course, sir, I see.”
The mention of Los Angeles put a lift into Bagget’s response, for he received many crank inquiries, but Los Angeles was a likely place to sell an English title, of that Bagget had no doubt, and it was for this reason he’d advertised there.

“A bear can own the title, can’t he?” asked the bear nervously.

Bagget pressed the receiver to his ear, thinking there was something wrong with the connection. He winged an answer.
“Most of the newer title acquisitions are made by citizens of other countries.”

“Good,” said the bear.

“The title is a very old and fine one, Mr. Jam,”
said Bagget.
“The pedigree is handsome and without flaws. The first Lord Overlook was granted his title by King Edward the Elder in 923, so you can see we are discussing a hallowed title indeed.”

“That’s what the title is?
Lord Overlook?
”

“Yes.”

The bear probed with his paw in the empty honey
jar.
Lord Overlook
sounded like a historical novel dealing with kings. Kings were dominant males so it should make for lively reading. “Okay, I’ll buy it.”

“Acquisition of the title is only a matter of you transferring $35,000 in U.S. funds to our bank here, which is Barclays of London.”

“How soon do I get the title?”

“Five days should see it in your hands, Lord Overlook,”
said Bagget, now keenly aware that he had a live fish on the line.

“I’ll send the money right away,” said the bear.

“Very good, Lord Overlook. Very good indeed. All the paperwork will be forwarded immediately. It will include your various rights and the complete historical documentation.”

“What rights?”

“There are fishing rights in the streams of Overlook, which I’m told are well stocked.”

“I love to fish,” said the bear, salivating.

“There are possible mineral rights too, though nothing of substantial value has been found in the ground there for several centuries, but it never hurts to look, eh?”

“That’s right,” said the bear. “Squirrels hide things.”

Bagget faltered momentarily. The man sounded like a simpleton. Mental defectives sometimes placed calls such as this.
“You say you’re at—?”

“The Bel Air hotel. I’m an author.”

Bagget’s confidence was renewed, as he classed
American writers beside Russian gangsters, with whom he had done some title business in the past. Gangsters found a title helpful when they were arrested.
“You may put your title on your passport, checkbooks, and credit cards, a nice advantage, Lord Overlook. Imagine the impression you will make at a hotel when you pass across a credit card bearing your title.”

“That’s what I need to make,” said the bear. “An impression.”

“I quite understand. Along those same lines, you can expect to have your application for membership to the most exclusive clubs in the world greatly expedited. And you shall undoubtedly be invited to functions at which royalty will be present.”

“Princess Diana?”

“Very possibly.”

“She has nice buns.”

“I share some of your feeling, sir,”
said Bagget, and pressed forward to safer ground.
“I should alert you—you may also find yourself being offered appointments to company boards. I have no doubt there are many companies in the Los Angeles area who would be honored to have you on their board.”

“How about if I’m being sued?”

“I sincerely hope you are not, but should that be the case, the prestige of a legitimate title will weigh heavily in your favor with any court in the civilized world. I suggest we conclude
our business directly, so the protection your title affords will become operative at once. For that, as I said, we need only your funds wired to our bank.”

“No problem,” said the bear.

“I should tell you that no land comes with the title, but if you wish to purchase a home in North Devon, where Overlook is situated, Bagget and Smallwood stand ready to serve you in this way. Overlook is lovely farm country, and I’m sure we could find you a few acres with a substantial dwelling attached. You could walk on the very land that has been part of your title’s glorious history.”

The bear returned to New York City as Overlook, Twenty-fifth Lord of the Manor, North Devon. Elliot Gadson assured him that there was nothing to worry about as regards the lawsuit. Not only was the legal staff of Cavendish Press already at work, but the legal eagles of the parent company, Tempo Oil, were also on the job, “… and those boys hit hard, Hal. They don’t want their best-selling author troubled.”

The bear understood by now that he’d purchased not a book title but a form of identity, which was even better. He’d instructed Bagget and Smallwood to buy him a stately home in Overlook, so he would soon have a manor to be lord of. Bagget and Smallwood had sent him a plaque bearing the Overlook coat of arms, and it was displayed on his living room wall. He thought such a display was classy. This was because he was a bear.