The Carpetbaggers (86 page)

"I'm at the plant in Burbank. I want to see you."

"Oh, Jonas, I want to see you, too. It will seem like such a long day."

"Why wait until tonight? Can't you come over here for lunch?"

"You know I can."

"One o'clock?"

"I’ll be there," she said, putting down the telephone.

* * *

"You can leave it here, John," Jonas said. "We'll help ourselves."

"Yes, Mr. Cord." The porter looked at Jennie, then back at Jonas. "Would it," he began hesitantly, "would it be all right if I troubled Miss Denton for her autograph?"

Jonas laughed. "Ask her."

The porter looked inquiringly at Jennie. She smiled and nodded. He took a pencil and paper from his pocket and quickly she scrawled her name on it. "Thank you, Miss Denton."

Jennie laughed as the door closed behind him. "Signing my autograph always makes me feel like a queen." She looked around the office. "This is nice."

"It's not mine," Jonas said, pouring coffee into two cups. "It's Forrester's. I'm just using it while he's away."

"Oh," she said curiously. "Where is yours?"

"I don't have any, except the one that used to be my father's in the old plant in Nevada. I'm never in any one place long enough to really need one." He pulled a chair around near her and sat down. He drank his coffee and looked at her quietly.

She could feel an embarrassed blush creeping over her face. "Do I look all right? Is my make-up smeared or something?"

He shook his head and smiled. "No. You look fine."

She sipped at her coffee and an awkward silence came between them. "What have you been doing?" she asked.

"Thinking, mostly. About us," he answered, looking at her steadily. "You. Me. This last time I was away from you, for the first time in my life I was lonely. Nothing was right. I wanted to see no other girls. Only you."

Her heart seemed to swell, choking her. She felt, somehow, that if she tried to move, she would faint. Jonas put his hand in his pocket and came out with a small box, which he handed to her. She stared down at it dumbly. The small gold letters stared up at her.
Van Cleef & Arpels
.

Her fingers trembled as she opened it. The beautifully cut heart-shaped diamond suddenly released its radiance. "I want to marry you," he said softly.

She felt the hot, grateful tears push their way into her eyes as she looked at him. Her lips trembled but she could not speak.

It was the headline and lead story in Louella's column the next day. The telephone had been ringing in her dressing room all morning, until finally she'd asked the switchboard to screen all her calls. The operator's voice had a new respect in it. As Jennie started to put the telephone down the operator said, "Miss Denton?"

"Yes."

"The girls on the switchboard all wish you the best of luck."

Jennie felt a sudden happy rush of warmth go through her. "Why, thank you."

Later in the afternoon, Rosa called. "I'm so happy for both of you."

"I'm in a daze," Jennie laughed, looking down at the diamond sparkling on her finger.

"You know that dinner invitation?"

"Yes."

"David and I were just thinking. How would you like to make it an engagement party? At Romanoff's with all the trimmings."

"I don't know." Jennie hesitated. "I’d better check with Jonas."

Rosa laughed. "Jonas? Who's he? Only the groom. Nobody ever asks the groom what he wants. It doesn't have to be a big party, if you don't want one."

"All right." Jennie laughed. "You've twisted my arm."

"And you'll have a chance to show off your engagement ring. I hear it's a real smasher."

Jennie held out her hand and the diamond winked at her. "It's very nice," she said.

"Bernie is yelling for his dinner. I’ll call you at home tonight and we'll make the arrangements."

"Thanks, Rosa. 'By."

There was a strange car parked in the driveway when she got home from the studio that night. She drove into the garage and entered the house through the back door. If it was another reporter, she didn't want to see him. The Mexican woman was in the kitchen. "A Señor Pierce is in the living room, señorita.

What could he want, she wondered. Perhaps he hadn't received the script yet and had dropped by for it. Pierce was seated in a deep chair, a copy of the script open on his lap. He got to his feet and nodded. "Miss Denton."

"Mr. Pierce. Did you get the script? I sent it out several days ago."

He smiled. "I got it. But I thought perhaps we might discuss it further. I'm hoping I can talk you into changing your mind."

She shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Before we talk about it," he said quickly, "may I offer my congratulations on your engagement?"

"Thank you. But now I must ask you to excuse me. I do have an appointment."

"I'll only take a few minutes of your time." He bent over and picked up a small carrying case that had been lying on the floor behind the chair.

"But; really, Mr. Pierce— "

"I'll only be a few minutes." There was a peculiar sureness in his voice. It was as if he knew she would not dare to refuse him. He pressed a button and the top of the carrying case popped open. "Do you know what this is, Miss Denton?" he asked.

She didn't answer. She was beginning to get angry. If this was his idea of a joke, she wasn't going to like it. "It's an eight-millimeter projector," he said in a conversational tone, as he snapped on a lens. "The kind ordinarily used for the showing of home movies."

"Very interesting. But I hardly see what it has to do with me."

"You will," he promised, looking up. His eyes were cold. He turned, looking for an electrical outlet. He found one against the wall behind the chair and swiftly plugged the cord from the projector into it.

"I think that white wall across from you will do very well for a screen, don't you?" He turned the projector toward it and flicked a switch. "I took the liberty of putting on the reel of film before I came here."

The whir of film sounded and Jennie turned to watch the picture being thrown against the wall. The scene showed two naked girls on a couch, their arms around each other, their faces hidden. A warning bell echoed in her mind. There was something curiously familiar about the scene.

"I got this film from a friend of mine in New Orleans." Pierce's voice came casually from behind her as a man walked into the scene. He, too, was nude and one of the girls turned toward him, facing directly into the camera.

Unconsciously Jennie let out a gasp. The girl was herself. Then she remembered. It had been that time in New Orleans. She turned to stare at Dan Pierce, her face white.

"You were photogenic even then. You should have made sure there was no camera."

"There wasn't any," she gasped. "Aida would never have permitted it." She stared at him silently, her mouth and throat suddenly dry.

He pressed a switch and as the film stopped, the light faded. "I can see you're not very interested in home movies."

"What do you want?" she asked.

"You." He began to close up the machine. "But not in the usual sense," he added quickly. "I want you to play Aphrodite."

"And if I don't choose to?"

"You're lovely, you're a star, you're engaged," he said casually. "You might not be any of the three if this film should happen to fall into the wrong hands. Together with a summary of your professional activities." His cold eyes flashed at her. "No man, even one as crazy as Jonas Cord, wants to marry the town whore."

"I'm under contract to Norman. My contract doesn't allow me to make any outside pictures."

"I know," Dan said calmly. "But I'm sure Cord would authorize the purchase of this script if you asked him. Bonner will make the picture."

"What if he won't? Jonas has pretty definite ideas about pictures."

A faint smile came to his lips. "Then, make him change them."

She drew in her breath slowly. "And if I do?"

"Why, then you get the film, of course."

"The negative, too?"

He nodded.

"How do I know that there are no dupes?"

His eyebrows went up approvingly. "I see you've learned," he said. "I paid five thousand dollars for that little can of film. And I wouldn't have done that if I hadn't been sure there were no other copies. Besides, why kill the goose? We may want to do business together again sometime."

He packed up the projector. "I’ll leave the script with you."

She didn't answer.

He turned, his hand on the door, and looked back. "I told you I'd only be a few minutes," he said.

Dan Pierce got to his feet, rapping his cup with a tiny spoon. He surveyed the table owlishly. He was drunk, happy drunk, as much on success as on the Scotch whisky he had so generously imbibed.

He nodded his head as they all looked up at him. "Dan Pierce doesn't forget who his friends are. He does things righ'. I brought the engaged couple each a presen'." He turned, snapping his fingers.

"Yes, Mr. Pierce," the maître d' said quickly. He gestured and a waiter came up with two packages, looked down at the tag on each and deposited the large gold-wrapped box in front of Jonas, the smaller silver-wrapped package by Jennie.

"Thank you, Dan," Jonas said.

"Open it up, Jonas," Dan said drunkenly. "I wan' ev'ybody to see the presents."

Jennie felt a strange foreboding. "We'll open them later, Dan."

"No," he said insistently. "Now."

She looked around the table. They were all watching curiously. She looked at Jonas. He shrugged his shoulders and smiled at her. She started to open her gift. It was wrapped so tight, she reached for a knife to cut it just as Jonas finished taking the wrapping from his. "Hey," Jonas said, laughing, as he held it up for all to see. "A magnum of champagne!"

Her present was in a small but beautifully inlaid mahogany case. She opened it and stared down, feeling the color drain from her face. Jonas took the case from her hands and held it up for everyone to see. "It's a set of English razors," he said and grinned at Dan. "The waiter must have got the labels mixed. Thanks again, Dan."

Abruptly Pierce sat down. He was smiling.

Jennie felt them all watching her. She raised her head and looked around the table. It was as if she knew what they were thinking. Of the twelve other couples seated around the large table, she had known five of the men before she'd made the test. Irving Schwartz, Bonner, three others, who were top-ranking executives with other companies. The other seven men all knew. Some of their wives, too. She could see it in their eyes. In only two of the men could she see any sympathy. David and Nevada Smith.

David she could understand. But she did not understand why Nevada should feel sorry for her. He scarcely knew her. He had always seemed so quiet, even shy, when they met at the studio. But now there was a wild sort of anger deep in his black Indian eyes as he looked from her to Dan Pierce.

Thirteen men, she thought and all but one of them knew her for what she'd been. And the thirteenth was the unlucky one. He was going to marry her. She felt a light touch on her arm. Rosa's voice broke the silence that threatened to engulf her. "I think it's about time we went to the little girl's room."

Jennie nodded dumbly and followed her from the table silently. She could feel the eyes of other diners following her. Without even returning their glances, she recognized several other men she had known and saw their wise, knowing smiles. She began to feel sick. Rosa drew the curtain in front of the small alcove in the corner as Jennie sank silently onto the couch. Rosa lit a cigarette and handed it to her.

Jennie looked up at her, the cigarette in her fingers already forgotten. The tears started to come into her eyes. "Why?" she asked in a hurt, bewildered voice. "I don't understand. What did I ever do to him?"

She began to cry silently as Rosa sat down beside her and drew her head down to her shoulder.

* * *

Dan Pierce chuckled to himself as he threaded his way to his car through the dark and deserted parking lot. Wait until he told the story in the locker room at Hillcrest tomorrow morning. The men would laugh their heads off. None of them really liked Jonas, anyway.

True, they tolerated him. But they didn't accept him. There was a difference. They all respected Jonas' success but they wouldn't lift a finger to help him. Not like they would for Dan Pierce if he needed their help, which he didn't. He was one of them, he'd grown up in the business with them. They had their rules. They stuck together.

Wait until he told them how the broad looked. Like she was ready to sink through the floor, while all the time, Jonas stood there like a
shmuck
, smiling and thinking how nice everybody was. It would break them up.

A dark figure suddenly appeared out of the shadows in front of him. He peered anxiously through the darkness as it silently came closer. "Oh, it's you, Nevada. I didn' know who it was."

Nevada stood there silently.

Dan laughed aloud as he remembered. "Wasn' that a bitch, though?" He chortled, reaching out a hand toward Nevada to steady himself. "I thought she'd bust when she opened the case and saw the razors. An' Jonas, the jerk, he don' even know what he's gettin' into— "

Dan's voice suddenly choked off in a grunt of pain as Nevada sank his fist into his belly. He fell back against a car, clutching at it to hold himself up. He stared at Nevada. "Wha' you go an' do that for?" he asked in a hurt voice. "We're ol' buddies."

He saw Nevada's hand coming toward his face and tried to duck. He wasn't quick enough and felt the pain explode in his eyes. Again the hammer tore into his belly: He bent over, retching, and another blow on the side of his face sent him sprawling into his own vomit. He looked up at Nevada with frightened eyes.

It was not until then that Nevada spoke, and an icy fear came up and clutched at Dan's heart. "I should've done this a long time ago," Nevada said, looking down at him. "I oughta kill you. But you ain't worth goin' to the gas chamber for."

He turned his back contemptuously and walked away. Dan waited until the sound of the high-heeled boots faded away. Then he put his face down on his hands against the cold concrete. "It was only a joke," he cried drunkenly. "It was only a joke."