The Carpetbaggers (66 page)

"Of course, Mr. Bonner. I read the papers. You're one of the biggest producers in Hollywood."

"So maybe I know what I'm talking about, eh?"

"Maybe you do." She smiled. "But I know myself and I'm no actress."

"That wasn't what you said last night."

"That's something else," she said. "That's my business. Besides, you see the way I live. It would be a long time before I could earn a grand a week in pictures."

"How do you know? We've had a script around for five years that we haven't been able to find a lead for. It was written for Rina Marlowe. I think you could do it."

"You're crazy!" She laughed. "Rina Marlowe was one of the most beautiful women on the screen. I couldn't hold a candle to her."

He was suddenly serious. "There are things about you that remind me of her."

"Could be," she said. "I hear she was pretty wild."

"That, too," he said, leaning toward her. "But that isn't what I'm talking about. Come down to the studio tomorrow and I’ll set up a screen test. If it doesn't work, we forget about it. If it does — well, there's just one man's approval I need and you're good for two grand a week."

"Two grand?" She stared at him. "You're joking."

He shook his head. "I don't joke about money."

"Neither do I," she said seriously. "Who is this man whose approval you'd need?"

"Jonas Cord."

"We might as well forget about it," she said. "From all I heard around town from some of the girls, he's a real nut."

Irving followed David into the living room as Rosa began to clear the dishes. "I never saw her looking so good," he said, stretching out in a chair in front of the fire.

David nodded absently. "Yeah."

Irving looked at him. "You got something on your mind, Davy?"

"The usual things," David said evasively.

"That ain't the way I hear it."

Something in his voice made David tense. "What do you hear?"

"The word is out they're giving your boy the squeeze," Irving said in a low voice.

"What else do you hear?"

"The new crowd wants to make you top dog if you throw in with them," Irving said. "They're also saying that Bonner has sold out to them already."

David was silent. He couldn't believe that Jonas didn't know about what was happening. But it was possible.

"You ain't talking, Davy," Irving said quietly. "You didn't bring me out here for nothing."

"How did you find out?"

Irving shrugged his shoulders. "We got stock," he said casually. "Some of the boys called up and told me that their brokers were contacted. They want to know what we should do."

"How much stock?"

"Oh, eighty, ninety thousand shares around the country. We figured it would be a good deal the way you were running things."

"Have you— " David corrected himself. "Have the boys made up their minds yet which way they're going?" That stock could be important. It was over three per cent of the two and a half million shares outstanding.

"No, we're pretty conservative," Irving said. "We like to go where the money is. And they been making it sound real pretty. Complete financing, doubling the profits, maybe even splitting the stock in a couple of years."

David nodded. He reached for a cigarette thoughtfully. It hung in his lips unlit. Why hadn't Jonas replied to his messages? Three times he'd tried to locate him and each time there had been no reply. Surely he must know by now. The last place he checked had sent word that Jonas was out of the country. If that was true, the whole thing would be a
fait accompli
by the time he returned.

"What are you going to do, Davy?" Irving asked softly.

"I don't know," he said. "I don't know what to do."

"You can't ride the fence much longer, chum," Irving said. "There's no way on earth to live with the loser."

"I know." David nodded. He finally struck a match and held it to his cigarette. "But it's like this. I know Cord doesn't pay much attention to us, maybe sometimes he even holds us back a little. But I also know he can make a picture, he's got a real feel for this business. That's why he bought in. It's not just all cold ass like it is with Sheffield and the others. Plain banker-and-broker arithmetic and to hell with everything except the profit-and-loss statement and balance sheet."

"But the bankers and brokers hold all the cards," Irving said. "Only a fool bucks the house."

"Yeah," David said almost savagely, grinding out his cigarette.

Irving was silent for a moment, then he smiled. "Tell you what, Davy. I’ll get all our proxies together and deliver 'em to you. When you decide what's best, vote 'em for us."

David stared at him. "You'd do that?"

Irving laughed. "The way I see it, I got no choice. Didn't you haul that alky for us from Shocky's garage?"

"Here comes the coffee," Rosa announced, carrying in a tray. "Jesus!" Irving exclaimed. "Lookit that choc'late layer cake."

Rosa laughed in a pleased voice. "I baked it myself."

* * *

Irving leaned back against the couch. "Oh, Doctor!" he said, looking at Rosa and rolling his eyes.

"Another piece?"

"I had three already. Another and you'll have to do a plastic job on my stomach to get me back in shape."

"Better have some more coffee, then," she said, refilling his cup. She began to gather up the cake plates.

"I meant to ask you, Davy," Irving said. "You ever hear of a broad named Jennie Denton?"

"Jennie Denton?" David shook his head. "No."

"I forgot," Irving said, glancing up at Rosa. "You been out of circulation."

"What about her?" Rosa asked. "I knew a Jennie Denton."

"You did? Where did you know her, Doc?"

"At the hospital. Four years ago there was a nurse there by that name."

"About five six, dark eyes, long, light-brown hair, good figure and an interesting way of walking?"

Rosa laughed. "Sexy, you mean?"

Irving nodded. "Yeah, that's what I mean."

"Sounds like the same girl," Rosa said.

"What about her?" David asked.

"Well, Jennie is probably the most expensive hooker in L.A. She has her own six-room house in the hills and you want to see her, it's by appointment only and you go there. She won't walk into a hotel room. She's got a real exclusive list and you want a date, you got to wait maybe two, three weeks. She only works a five-day week."

"If you're recommending her to my husband," Rosa interrupted, smiling, "you'd better stop right there."

Irving smiled. "Well, it seems one night, earlier this week, Maurice Bonner went there and she gave him the full treatment. So, nothing will do the next day but he has Jennie down to the studio for a screen test. He shoots her in color, some scenes from some old script he's got laying around. While he's at it, he decides to make it real good. He dresses her in a white silk sheet. It's supposed to be a baptism scene and when she comes up out of the water in the big tank on Stage Twelve, you can see everything she's got. In two days, that test becomes the biggest picture on the home circuit. Bonner's got more requests for it than Selznick's got for
Gone With the Wind
!"

There was only one script David remembered that had a baptism scene. "You wouldn't remember the name of the script?" he asked. "Was it
The Sinner
?"

"Could be."

"If it was, that's the script Cord had written especially for Rina Marlowe before she died."

"I don't care who it was written for." Irving smiled. "You gotta see that test. You'll flip. I sat through it twice. And so did everybody else in the projection room."

"I’ll look at it tomorrow," David said.

"I’d like to see it, too."

David looked at Rosa. He smiled. It was the first time she'd ever expressed any interest in a picture. "Come down to the studio at ten o'clock," he said. "We'll both look at it."

"If I didn't have an important meeting," Irving said, "I'd be down there myself."

* * *

David tied the sash of his pajamas and sat down in the chair near the window, looking out at the ocean.

He could hear the water running in the bathroom basin and the faint sound of Rosa's voice, humming as she rinsed her face. He sighed. At least, she could be happy in her work. A doctor didn't have to survive a war of nerves in order to practice medicine.

The door clicked open behind him and he turned around. She looked at him, a musing expression on her face, as she stood in the doorway.

"You had something to tell me?" He smiled. "Go ahead."

"No, David," she replied, her eyes warm. "It's a wife's duty to listen when her lord and master speaks."

"I don't feel much like a lord and master."

"Is anything wrong, David?"

"I don't know," he said and began to tell her the story, beginning with his meeting with Sheffield the night she had called. She walked over to him and put her arms around his head, drawing him to her bosom. "Poor David," she whispered sympathetically. "So many problems."

He turned his face up to her. "I’ll have to make a decision soon," he said. "What do you think I ought to do?"

She looked down at him, her gray eyes glowing. She felt strong and capable, as if her roots were deep into the earth. "Whatever decision you make, David," she said, "I feel sure will be the right one for us."

"For us?"

She smiled slowly. This new-found strength, too, was what it meant to be a woman. Her voice was low and happy.

"We're going to have a baby," she said.

The bright sunlight hurt their eyes after the dark of the screening room. They walked along silently toward David's office, in one of the executive cottages.

"What are you thinking, David?" she asked quietly. "That test make you sorry you're married?"

He looked at her and laughed. He opened the door to his cottage and they went past his secretary into his private office. David walked around behind his desk and sat down.

She seated herself in a leather chair in front of his desk. The thoughtful expression was still on his face. She took out a cigarette and lit it.

"What did you think of the test?" he asked.

She smiled. "Now I understand why she's driving all the men crazy," she answered. "The way that sheet clung to her when she came out of the water was the most suggestive thing I ever saw."

"Forget that scene. If it weren't in the test, what would you think of her?"

She dragged on the cigarette and the smile left her face. "I thought she was wonderful. She almost tore my heart out in that scene where all you saw was Jesus' feet walking, the bottom of the Cross dragging along as she crawled in the dirt after Him, trying to kiss His feet. I found myself crying with her." She was silent for a moment. "Were those real tears or make-up?"

David stared at her. "They were real tears," he said. "They don't use make-up tears in tests."

He felt his excitement begin to hammer inside him. In her own way, Rosa had given him the answer. He hadn't felt like this since he'd first seen Rina Marlowe on the screen. They'd all been too blinded by the baptismal scene to see it.

He pulled a buck slip from the holder on his desk and began to write on it. Rosa watched him for a moment, then walked around the desk and looked down curiously over his shoulder. He had already finished his scribbling and was reaching for the telephone.

Jonas—

I think it's about time we got back into the picture business. Let me hear from you.

David

"Get me McAllister, in Reno," David said into the telephone. He looked up at Rosa and smiled. She smiled back and returned to her chair.

"Hello, Mac," David said, his voice firm and forceful. "Two questions you can answer for me."

A feeling of pride began to run through her. She was glad she'd come down to the studio. This was a facet of her husband she had never known before.

"First," David said into the telephone, "can I sign an actress to a contract with Cord Explosives? I have specific reasons for not wanting to sign her with us. Important reasons." David relaxed slightly.

"Good. Next question. I have some film I want Jonas to see right away. Can you get it to him?"

He waited a moment. "Can't ask for anything more than that. I'll have the film at your L.A. office in two hours. Thanks, Mac. Good-by."

He pressed down the bar on the telephone and raised it again. "Miss Wilson, get me Jess Lee in printing and developing, then come right in here."

He held onto the telephone and reached for a cigarette. He put it in his mouth. She leaned across the desk with a match. He drew in on the cigarette and smiled at her.

"Jess," he said, as the door opened and his secretary came in. "I’m shooting down a buck slip to you. I want you to photograph it on the title card and splice it onto the end of the Jennie Denton test, right away."

David covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "Take that buck slip down to Jess Lee yourself," he said to the secretary, indicating the paper on his desk. She picked it up silently and walked out.

"I know it's a wild test, Jess," he said into the phone. "Make up one print with my buck slip and shoot it right over to Mr. McAllister's secretary at Cord Aircraft. It's got to be there by noon."

"You've made up your mind?"

He nodded. "I'm playing a long shot," he said. "If I’m wrong, it won't matter which of them wins. I lose."

Rosa smiled. "There comes a time like that in every operation. You're the surgeon, you hold the knife and the patient is open before you. According to the book, there are many things you can do, many ways you can go. But you have only one way to go — the right way. So you make the decision. Your way. No matter what the pressures are, no matter what the books say. You have to go your own way." She looked at him, still smiling. "Is that what you're doing, David?" she asked gently. "Going your own way?"

He looked at her, marveling at her insight and knowledge. "Yes," he said unhesitantly. "I'm going my own way."

He had never thought of it quite like that. She was right, though. He was on his own now.