The Carpetbaggers (26 page)

I heard footsteps approaching and opened my eyes. It was Dan Pierce. He'd been on the phone trying to borrow a star from one of the other studios. "Well?" I asked.

He shook his head negatively. "No dice. MGM wouldn't lend us Garbo. They're planning a talking picture for her themselves."

"What about Marion Davies?"

"I just hung up on her. She loves the part but it isn't the kind of thing she feels she can do. Maybe we should've stuck with Cynthia Randall. It's costing you thirty grand a day to sit around like this."

I lit the cigarette and stared up at him. "I’d rather drop it now than be laughed out of the theater and lose it all later."

"Maybe we could bring an actress in from New York?"

"We haven't the time," I said. "Ten days, three hundred grand."

Just then, Rina came up with some sandwiches. "I thought you'd be hungry," she said, "so I sent out for these."

I took one and bit into it somberly. She turned and gave one to the second man. "Thanks, Miss Marlowe."

"You're welcome," she said and walked back to where she'd been sitting with Nevada.

"Too bad you can't find one that sounds like her," the sound man mumbled through a mouthful of sandwich.

I looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"She's got somethin' in her voice that gets yuh," he said. "If it came through on the sound track like that, you'd have them falling out of the balconies."

I stared at him now. "You mean Rina?"

He nodded and swallowed his mouthful. "Yeah." A slow, meaningful grin came to his lips. "An' if I ain't crazy, she'd photograph like a roll in the hay, too. She's all woman."

I turned to Dan. "What do you think?"

"It's possible," he admitted cautiously.

"Then, let's go," I said, getting to my feet. "Thirty grand a day is a lot of money."

Rina took it as a big joke when I asked her to speak a few of the lines into the microphone. She still didn't think I meant it when I called the crew back for a full-scale screen test. I don't think she took me seriously at all until we sat in the screening room at two that morning and watched her and Nevada play one scene.

I’d never seen anything like her on the screen before. Whatever it was she had, it was twice as strong up there on the screen. She just plain made your mouth water.

I turned to her. "Go home and go to bed. I want you in wardrobe at six o'clock tomorrow morning. We start shooting at nine."

She shook her head. "Uh-uh, Jonas. The joke's gone far enough. I won’t have any part of it."

"You be on that set ready to shoot at nine!" I said grimly. "You're the one who called, not me, remember?"

I looked at Nevada. There was a puzzled expression on his face. And something about the clear innocence in his eyes hit me wrong. "And you better see to it that she shows up!" I said angrily.

I turned and stormed out of the projection room, leaving them staring after me with shocked faces.

I OPENED ONE EYE SLOWLY AND PEERED AT my wrist watch. Two o'clock! I sat up quickly and the pain almost split my skull. I groaned out loud and the door opened.

It was Dan, already dressed in cream-colored slacks and a loud sports shirt. He held a glass of what looked like tomato juice. "Here," he said. "Drink it down, pal. It'll wash the fuzz away."

I lifted the glass to my lips. It tasted awful going down but he was right. A moment later, my head began to clear. I looked around the bedroom. It was a shambles. "Where are the girls?" I asked.

"I paid them off an' sent them home."

"Good." I got to my feet woozily. "I gotta get down to the studio. They were going to start shooting at nine."

Dan smiled. "I called and told them you were tied up but would get down there this afternoon. I figured it was better if you got some sleep. That was a hectic night."

I grinned at him. It sure was.

Dan and I had really tied one on the night before. I'd met him coming off the set and offered to give him a lift downtown. But on the way we'd decided to stop and eat. I was wound up tighter than a dollar watch and he'd offered to help me unwind. Steaks at a spot he knew, which ought to have been closed but wasn't, along with bourbon and later the works. The works came out of his little black book, which all agents seem to carry. I'd unwound all right but now I wondered if they'd ever be able to wind me up again.

His Jap houseboy had shirred eggs and sausages ready when I came out of the shower. I was starved. I ate six eggs and about a dozen of the little bangers. When I put down my fourth cup of coffee Dan smiled and asked, "How are yuh feeling now?"

I grinned back at him. "I never felt better in my life." It was true. For once I felt relaxed and loose. There wasn't the usual tightening in my gut as I thought about the day. "You said something about getting down to business?"

We'd talked the night before, more than I usually did with a stranger. But Dan Pierce was different. He was a type I hadn't encountered before and he fascinated me. He was tough, shrewd and knew what he wanted. I was in over my head and I knew it. I wouldn't be for long, but until I got the hang of it I could use someone like Dan Pierce.

"I sold my agency this morning to MCA."

"What for?"

"Because I'm coming in with you."

"Aren't you jumping the gun a little?" I asked. "I'm only in for this one picture. What’ll you do after that?"

Dan smiled. "That's what you say. It even might be what you really believe, right now. But I know different. You got a feel for this business — a natural feel for it that not many people have. And there's a challenge that you can't resist. You just found another gambling game. You'll stick."

I sipped at the coffee. It was strong and black, just the way I liked it. "And just how do you figure you can help?" I asked.

"Because I know all the angles in this business, all the dirty tricks it would take you a long time to find out about. You're a busy man and time's the most valuable thing you've got. I wouldn't be worth half as much if motion pictures were your only business. But it's not. And it never will be. It's just another game of craps."

I stared at him. "Give me a free sample."

"For one thing," he said quickly, "I wouldn't have started the picture until I'd had a sound test on everyone."

"That's something I already learned. I want a sample of what I don't know."

He reached around behind him for a blue-covered script. "If Rina comes off on the screen like that test indicates, we can make a few changes in this and save ourselves four hundred thousand dollars."

"How?"

"By building up her story and confining more of the picture to the New Orleans episode. It'll save five weeks of exteriors and nobody knows yet how good those microphones work outside."

I reached for a cigarette. "If we did that," I said slowly, "what happens to Nevada? His part would be cut way down."

Dan's eyes met mine steadily. "Nevada's not my problem any more, he's MGA's. I'm workin' for you now an' I figure you already used up all the sentiment you're entitled to on this picture. This is just like any other kind of business. The big thing is to make money."

I dragged on the butt and sipped at the coffee. For the first time since Rina called, I was back to normal. For a while, she'd had me spinning like a top. I didn't know whether I was coming or going. I felt different now. "What kind of deal do you have in mind?"

"No salary. Just a ten-per-cent piece of the action and an expense account."

I laughed. "I thought you said you sold your agency."

"That's the only way I can figure my compensation without adding to your overhead."

"Don't kid me," I said. "You'd be living off the expense account."

"Sure I will. But even with a salary, I would. How do you expect me to do a job for you if I can't spend money? Money is the only thing in this town nobody talks back to."

"I’ll give you a ten-per-cent participation in profits. But no stock interest."

He studied me for a moment. "What about the expense account?"

"That's O.K."

He stuck out his hand. "It's a deal."

* * *

It was after three o'clock when we walked onto Stage Nine. The place was jumping, a mumble of buzzing, efficient noise, as they got ready for the next take. Nevada was standing on the edge of the set; Rina wasn't anywhere in sight. I stopped near the sound man. "How's it coming?"

He looked up at me and grinned. "Sounds great," he said, tapping his earphones.

I smiled and walked over to Nevada. He was talking to the director and they both turned as I came up. "How's she doing?"

The new director shrugged. "She was a little nervous at first but she's settling down. She'll be O.K."

"She’ll be great," Nevada said warmly. "I never figured all the times she cued me on the script that it would come in handy for her too."

One of the assistant directors hurried up. "We're ready now, Mr. Carrol."

The director nodded and the assistant turned around and yelled, "Places, everybody!"

The director walked over to the camera as Nevada moved out on the set. I turned and saw Rina entering from the side. I stared, unable to believe my eyes. Her long, white-blond hair was tied up on top of her head and they'd bound her breasts so tight she looked like a boy. Her mouth was painted in a tiny Cupid's bow and her eyebrows were penciled to a thin, unnatural line. She was no longer a woman — she was a caricature of every ad in
Vanity Fair
.

Dan's face was impassive. He stared at me, his eyes unrevealing. "They did a good job," he said. "She's right in the image."

"She don't look like a woman."

"That's what they go for."

"I don't give a damn what they go for! I don't like it. Broads that look like that are a dime a dozen in this town."

A faint smile came into Dan's eyes. "You don't like it, change it," he said. "You're the boss. It's your picture."

I stared at him for a moment. I felt like walking out onto the set and blowing a fuse. But instinct held me back. I knew one more display like yesterday's would demoralize the whole crew. "Tell Carrol I want to see him," I said to Dan.

He nodded approvingly. "Smart," he said. "That's the right way to do it. You may need me even less than I thought!" He walked over to the director.

A moment later, the director called a ten-minute break. He came over to me and I could see he was nervous. "What seems to be the trouble, Mr. Cord?"

"Who O.K.'d that make-up and costume?"

The director looked at me, then over his shoulder at Rina. "I'm sure it was approved by wardrobe and make-up," he said. "Nevada told them to give her the full treatment."

"Nevada?"

He nodded. I looked at Dan. "I want everybody concerned in my office in ten minutes," I said.

"Right, Jonas."

I turned and walked out of the building.

I LOOKED AROUND THE OFFICE. I GUESS THE STUDIO knew what they were doing after all. It was just large enough to hold all of us.

Dan sat in an easy chair to the left of my desk, Carrol, the new director, beside him. Rina and Nevada were on the couch, and across the room from them was the cameraman. On the other side of the room were the make-up man and the head of the wardrobe department, a slim woman of indeterminate age, with a young face and prematurely-gray hair, wearing a simple tailored dress. Finally, my secretary was on my right, with the inevitable pencil poised over her pad.

I lit a cigarette. "All of you saw that test last night," I said. "It was great. How come that girl wasn't on the set this afternoon?"

Nobody answered. "Rina, stand up." Silently she got to her feet and stood there looking at me. I glanced around the room again. "What's her name?"

The director coughed and laughed nervously. "Mr. Cord, everybody knows her name."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Rina Marlowe."

"Then why don't she look like Rina Marlowe instead of an ass-end combination of Clara Bow, Marion Davies and Cynthia Randall? She sure as hell doesn't look like Rina Marlowe!"

"I’m afraid you don't understand, Mr. Cord."

I looked around. "What's your name?"

She stared right back at me. "I’m Ilene Gaillard," she said. "I’m the costume designer."

"All right, Miss Gaillard. Suppose you tell me what I don't understand."

"Miss Marlowe has to be dressed in the very forefront of fashion," she said calmly. "You see, Mr. Cord, though we make certain concessions to the period in which the picture takes place, the fundamental design must carry forward the latest in high fashion. That's what most women go to the movies to see. Motion pictures set the style."

I squinted at her. "Style or no style, Miss Gaillard, it doesn't make sense that a girl should have to look like a boy to be in fashion. No man in his right mind could be interested in a figure like that."

"Don't blame Miss Gaillard, Jonas. I told her to do it."

I turned to Nevada. "You told her?"

He nodded.

Sooner or later, it was bound to happen. I let my voice grow cold. "It's my money that's on the line now and the deal was that I'm the boss. So from now on, you worry about your acting. Everything else is my headache."

Nevada's lips tightened and deep in his eyes I could see the hurt. I turned away so that I wouldn't have to see it. Rina was watching with a curious kind of detachment.

"Rina!" She turned to me, an impassive mask dropping quickly over her eyes. "Go into the bathroom and wash all that muck off your face. Put on your usual make-up."

Rina left the room silently and I went back behind my desk and sat down. Nobody said a word until she came back into the room, her mouth wide again, her lips full and her eyebrows flowing into the natural curve of her brow. Her hair spilled like white shimmering gold down to her shoulders. But there was still something wrong. Underneath the negligee, her body was still a straight line.

"Go back in there and get out of that harness you're wearing."

Still silent, she did as I told her. And this time when she came out, she moved. Nobody could miss the fact that there was a woman underneath that negligee.