The Carpetbaggers (40 page)

David looked at his uncle. "You all right, Uncle Bernie?"

Slowly Norman opened his eyes. "You still here?" he asked in the voice of a man making a supreme effort to control himself. "Go!" His eyes fell on the papers still on the floor. "First pick up the papers," he added quickly. "Then go!"

"You don't even know why I came here this morning," David said tentatively. "Something very important came up."

His uncle opened his eyes and looked at him. "If it's something important, come to see me like everybody else. You know my door is always open."

"Open?" David laughed sarcastically. "If Christ himself came into this studio, those three harpies wouldn't let him in to see you!"

"Don't bring religion into it!" Norman held up a warning hand. "You know my policy. Everybody's the same as everybody else. Somebody wants to see me, they talk to my number-three girl, she talks to my number-two girl, my number-two girl talks to my number-one girl. My number-one girl thinks it important enough, she talks to me and the next thing you know, you're in my office!" He snapped his fingers. "Like that! But don't come sneaking around in the night, looking at confidential papers! Now go!"

"O.K." David started for the door. He should have known better than to try to do anything for the old bastard. "I’m going," he said bitterly. "But when I walk out this door, you look good — real good, because you're throwing out a million dollars along with me!"

"Wait a minute!" his uncle called after him. "I like to be fair. You said you had something important to tell me? So tell it. I’m listening."

David closed the door. "Next month, before the picture opens, Nevada Smith and Rina Marlowe are getting married," he said.

"You're telling me something?" His uncle glowered. "Who cares? They didn't even invite me to the wedding. Besides, Nevada's finished."

"Maybe," David said. ''But the girl isn't. You saw the picture?"

"Of course I saw the picture!" Norman snapped. "We're sneaking it tonight."

"Well, after the sneak, she's going to be the hottest thing in the business."

His uncle looked up at him, a respect dawning in his eyes. "So?"

"From the papers, I see nobody's got her under contract," David said. "You sign her this morning. Then— "

His uncle was already nodding his head.

"Then you tell them you want to give them the wedding. As a present from the studio. We'll make it the biggest thing ever to hit Hollywood. It'll add five million to the gross."

"So what good does that do us?" Norman asked. "We don't own any of the picture, we don't share in the profits."

"We get a distribution fee, don't we?" David asked, his confidence growing as he saw the intent look on his uncle's face. "Twenty-five per cent of five million is one and a quarter million dollars. Enough to carry half the cost of our whole distribution setup for a whole year. And the beautiful thing about it is we can charge all our expenses for the wedding to publicity and slap the charge right back against the picture. That way, it doesn't cost us one penny. Cord pays everything out of his share of the profit."

Norman got to his feet. There were tears in his eyes. "I knew it! Blood will tell!" he cried dramatically. "From now on you're working for me. You're my assistant! I’ll tell the girls to have the office next door made ready for you. More than this I couldn't ask from my own son — if I had a son!"

""There's one more thing."

"There is?" Norman sat down again. "What?"

"I think we should try to make a deal with Cord to do a picture a year for us."

Norman shook his head. "Oh, no! We got enough crazy ones around here without him."

"He's got a feeling for pictures. You can see it in
The Renegade
."

"It was a lucky accident."

"No it wasn't," David insisted. "I was on the set through the whole thing. There wasn't anything in the picture that he didn't have something to do with. If it wasn't for him, Marlowe would never be the star she's going to be. He has the greatest eye for cunt I ever saw in my life."

"He's a
goy
," Norman said deprecatingly. "What do they know about cunt?"

"The
goyim
knew about cunt before Adam led Eve out of the Garden of Eden."

"No," Norman said.

"Why not?"

"That kind of man I don't want around," Norman said. "He won't be satisfied just to make a picture. Pretty soon, he'll want to run the whole thing. He's a
balabuss
, he's not the kind who would work with partners."

He got up and walked around the desk toward his nephew. "No," he said. "Him I won't do business with. But your other ideas I like. This morning we'll go out and get the girl's signature on the contract. Then we'll tell them about the wedding. Nevada won't like it but he'll do it. After all, he's got his own money in the picture and he won't be taking any chances!"

* * *

David saw to it that a special print of the newsreel of the wedding was sent on to Cord, who was in Europe at the time. When Jonas walked into the small screening room in London, where he had arranged for it to be run off, the lights immediately went down and a blast of music filled the room. On the screen, lettering was coming out of a turning camera until there was nothing else to be seen.

The dramatically somber voice of the narrator came on under a long shot of a church, around which crowds of people swirled.

All Hollywood, all the world, is agog with excitement over the fairy-tale wedding in Hollywood today of Nevada Smith and Rina Marlowe, stars of the forthcoming Bernard B. Norman release
The Renegade.

There was a shot of Nevada riding up to the church resplendently dressed in a dark, tailored cowboy suit, astride a snow-white horse.

Here is the groom, the world-famous cowboy Nevada Smith, arriving at the church with his equally famous horse, Whitey.

Nevada walked up the steps and into the church, with the police holding back mobs of screaming people. Then a black limousine drew up. Bernie Norman got out and turned to assist Rina. She stood for a moment, smiling at the crowd, then taking Norman's proffered arm, began to walk into the church, as the camera moved in for a close-up.

And here is the bride, the lovely Rina Marlowe, star of
The Renegade
, on the arm of Bernard B. Norman, noted Hollywood producer, who will give the bride away. Miss Marlowe's wedding gown is ivory Alençon lace, designed especially for her by Ilene Gaillard, famous couturière, who also designed the exciting costumes that you will see Miss Marlowe wear in the Bernard B. Norman picture
The Renegade.

The camera then cut to the exterior of Nevada's Beverly Hills home, where there was a tremendous tent with throngs of people milling about it.

Here on the lawn of the palatial home of Nevada Smith is the tent erected by the Bernard B. Norman studio workmen as their tribute to the famous couple. It is large enough to shelter and feed a thousand guests and is the largest of its kind ever set up anywhere in the world. And now let us say hello to some of the famous guests.

The camera rolled down the lawn as the announcer introduced many famous stars and newspaper columnists, who paused in the midst of their obviously carefully posed groups to smile and bow in the direction of the camera. The camera moved on up the steps to the entrance of the house as Nevada and Rina appeared in the doorway. A moment later, Norman stood between them. Rina held a large bouquet of roses and orchids in her arms.

Here again is the happy bride and groom, together with their friend, the famous producer Bernard B. Norman. The bride is about to throw her bouquet to the eagerly waiting crowd.

There was a shot of Rina throwing her bouquet and a scramble of pretty young girls. The flowers were finally caught by a red-haired, sloe-eyed girl and the camera moved in for a quick close-up of her.

The bouquet was caught by Miss Anne Barry, a close friend of the bride's. Miss Barry, a beautiful redhead, also has an important role in
The Renegade
and has just been placed under contract by Norman Pictures for her fine portrayal in that part.

The camera then moved in for a final close-up. Rina, Norman and Nevada smiled into the theater. Norman was standing between them, one arm placed in fatherly fashion around Nevada's shoulder, the other hidden from view behind the bride. They all laughed happily as the scene faded.

Lights in the screening room came up as Jonas got to his feet and, unsmiling, walked out of the room. There was a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. If that was the way Rina wanted it, she could have it.

But what Jonas didn't see, and neither could anyone else who had been looking at the screen, was Bernie Norman's left hand, hidden behind Rina's back.

It was comfortably and casually exploring the rounded contours of her buttocks.

It had been after eight o'clock when Ilene heard the door to her outer office open. She put down the small palette and wiped the smudges of paint from her hands on her loose gray smock. She turned toward the door just as Rina came in.

"I’m sorry to hold you up, Ilene," Rina apologized. "We went overtime on the set tonight."

Ilene smiled. "It's O.K. I had some work to finish up, anyway." She looked at Rina. "You look tired. Why don't you sit down and rest a few minutes? I heard from the production office that you'd be late so I ordered coffee and sandwiches."

Rina flashed a grateful smile. "Thanks," she said, dropping onto the big couch and kicking off her shoes. "I am tired."

Ilene pushed a coffee table over to the couch. She opened a small refrigerator and took out a tray of sandwiches, which she set down in front of Rina. Opening a large Thermos of black coffee, quickly she poured a cup for Rina.

Rina held the steaming cup to her lips. "This is good," she said over the rim. She sipped again, then leaned her head against the back of the couch. "I'm really so pooped I'm not even hungry."

"You have a right to be," Ilene answered. "You haven't had a week off in the year since you finished
The Renegade
. Three pictures, one right after the other, and next week you're starting another. It's a wonder you haven't collapsed."

Rina looked at her. "I like to work."

"So do I," Ilene replied quickly. "But there's a point where you have to draw the line."

Rina didn't answer. She sipped at her coffee and picked up a copy of
Variety
. Idly she turned the page. She stopped at a headline, read for a moment, then held the paper out to Ilene. "Have you seen this?"

Ilene glanced down at the paper. The headline caught her eye. It was typical Varietese:

THE RENEGADE'S BIGGEST HAUL   BOX OFFICE

In a year filled with cries from moaning exhibitors and anguished producers about the seemingly bottomless pit into which motion-picture grosses are falling, it's encouraging to note one ray of sunshine. It was reliably learned from informed sources that the domestic gross of
The Renegade
passed the five-million-dollar mark last week, a little less than one year after release. Based on these figures, the Rina Marlowe vehicle, with many subsequents still to be played in the U.S. and the rest of the world still to be heard from, can be expected to gross at ten million dollars.
The Renegade
, a Norman release, was produced and bankrolled by Jonas Cord, a rich young Westerner better known for his record-breaking flight from Paris to L.A. last year, and also features Nevada Smith.

Ilene looked up from the paper. "I saw it."

"Does that mean everyone got their money back?"

"I guess it does," Ilene said. "That is, if Bernie didn't steal them blind."

Rina smiled. She felt a surge of relief. At least, Nevada didn't have to worry now. She picked up a sandwich and began to eat ravenously. "Suddenly I'm hungry," she said between mouthfuls.

Silently Ilene refilled her coffee cup, then poured one for herself. Rina ate quickly and in a few minutes, she had finished. She took a cigarette from the small box on the table and lit it.

She leaned back and blew the smoke at the ceiling. A faint touch of color came back into her cheeks. "I feel better now. We can try on those costumes as soon as I finish this cigarette."

"No hurry," Ilene said. "I have time."

Rina got to her feet. "We might as well get started," she said, grinding her cigarette out in an ash tray. "I just remembered, I have a breakfast layout to do for
Screen Stars
magazine at six o'clock in the morning."

Ilene walked over to the closet and slid back the doors. Six pairs of circus-style chemise tights, each in a different color, hung there. Rina took one down and turned to Ilene, holding the brief costume in front of her. "They get smaller and smaller."

Ilene smiled. "Bernie himself gave the orders for those. After all, the name of the picture is
The Girl on the Flying Trapeze
."

She took the costume and held it while Rina began to undress. Rina turned her back as she slipped out of her dress and struggled into the tight-fitting costume. "Whew!" she gasped. "Maybe I shouldn't have eaten those sandwiches!"

Ilene stepped back and studied the costume. "Better step up on the pedestal," she said. "There are a few things I'll have to do."

Quickly she chalked out the alterations. "O.K.," she said. "Let's try the next one."

Rina reached behind her to unfasten the hooks. One of them stuck. "You'll have to help me, Ilene. I can't get out of this thing."

Rina stepped down from the pedestal and turned her back to Ilene. Deftly Ilene freed the hook. The cloth parted quickly and her fingers brushed against Rina's naked back. They tingled with the firm, warm touch of her flesh. Ilene felt the rush of blood to her temples. She stepped back quickly as if she had touched a hot iron. Too many times had she been tempted to let a thing like this get her into trouble. It had taken too many years to get this job.

Rina dropped the top of the costume to her waist and struggled to get the tights over her hips. She looked at Ilene. "I'm afraid you'll have to help me again."