Jason stared at him in a brooding way. “You know, I don’t mind that so much. I can almost understand it. But I can’t ever forgive or forget that little notice you gave me when I married Joyce, or the little sour thing you put in there when Joyce was killed.”
“You sound as if I had some personal interest. Don’t be absurd, dear boy. When you became intimate with Jenny, you became newsworthy. And my public likes to know what happens to the ex-friends of the stars. What do you expect when you marry an alcoholic? Immunity? A conspiracy of silence?”
“Jenny is going to be delighted to see you.”
He finished the sherry, gestured for another. “Don’t be naive, Jason. Really! I’ve talked to Jenny many times since you and she broke up. She’s not a fool. I’m one of the facts of life of her profession, like agents and taxes. We get along quite well. She has a professional attitude. You are an incurable amateur. But what in the world are you doing here?”
Jason knew he did not dare hesitate too long. “I’m working on the script of her next moving picture. I came over to check a few things with her.”
“Didn’t I read she was going to do a Jamison thing?”
“That’s what this script is. And damned good, too.”
Sam Dean frowned. “Then where could you possibly fit into the picture? Don’t answer that question. Let me see. As far as I know, she’s still fond of you. Suppose she was balking at doing the picture. Or she doesn’t care for the choice of director or leading man. She and Wegler don’t get along. Jamison is a spook. This is very interesting. You and George Kogan were friendly, as I remember. Yes, if the lady was dragging her heels, Wegler might well send you over to smooth things out a little. Shooting would start after this tour, I suppose.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me, dear boy, just what trouble is Sid Wegler having with our Jenny?”
“I haven’t heard of any.”
“But there must be some sort of trouble. I’m not a fool. Dear George was too effusive. He never gets such a violent attack of the jollies unless he’s trying to smoke-screen something. And that Marney woman turned pallid and shaky when she heard my name. And you have been glowering at me in a very uneasy way.”
“I glower because I don’t like you worth a damn, Sam.”
“If I went around needing love, that could bother me. I think you should …” He jumped up quite spryly and gestured and smiled and snapped his fingers. The girl in the doorway saw him and came over to the table. Sam introduced them, telling the girl Jason was a famous author. Her name was Lydia Torres. She was very tall and very ripely built and very young. Sam Dean fussed over her, holding her chair, adjusting her wrap, ordering her a drink. She had blank blue eyes, a slack mouth and a dull bovine manner According to rumor, Sam Dean had an endless source of supply of these, all of them equivalently young, big, healthy and slow-witted, evidently interchangeable. His quota seemed to be three or four of them a year. As soon as one disappeared, the next one appeared. And they all seemed to spend their time sitting at tables in night clubs with Sam Dean, sitting nested in fur, their shoulders bare, their hair intricately coifed, sipping their drinks and staring into the distance with a look of mild, patient boredom.
As soon as she was settled, Sam ignored her. He smiled at Jason. “Obviously you aren’t going to tell me a thing. We were flying back Thursday, but I think now we shall stay until we find out what our Jenny is doing to make everyone so edgy.”
“Everybody is edgy before an opening, Sam.”
He smiled more broadly, like a fox reaching to nip the end off an egg. “If you should see darling Jenny before I do, Jason, tell her that Sam Dean hopes she is being a good girl. Tell her he sincerely hopes it, because it always hurts him to have to discipline one of the truly big names of the entertainment world. So nice to chat with you again after such a long, long time.”
It was an effortless dismissal. When Jason looked back at them from the arched doorway he saw the two of them sitting there like wax figures, glossy, inert, staring into their separate segments of distance.
Lois, George and Ida Mulligan were in the sitting room of Jenny’s suite. When George let him in, Jason said, “Is Jenny back?”
“Not yet. What did that little viper say?”
They were all looking intently at him. Jason sat down. Lois brought him a drink. He repeated all of the conversation that he could remember. George paced back and forth, snapping his fingers, cracking his knuckles.
When Jason had finished, George said, “This is just great! This is all we need. He’s been gunning for her for years. He’s written her off at least five times.”
“Seven,” Ida said. “She keeps track.”
“I guess I don’t understand,” Lois said. “I know he writes terrible things about people. But how can he find out … about …”
George said irritably, “He keeps looking. When he thinks there’s something worth looking for, he doesn’t give up. He buys people. He gives them coarse pieces of money and they sign statements. He hires people to watch people. He hires people to bug phones and rooms, and steal letters and diaries. We’ve got to give him something that will steer him away from this situation.”
“Like what?” Jason asked.
George stared at the ceiling for a moment. “Something about this movie?”
“That she doesn’t want to do it? Is that strong enough?”
“He’s a little bit creepy, isn’t he?” Lois said.
George stared at her and gave a harsh and mirthless laugh. He began pacing again. “And where in the hell is our star?”
six
Jason Brown had seen joy. He had seen Jenny Bowman when she was happy. He had seen a great many volatile and excited people registering exuberant pleasure, but he had never seen anything quite like the Jenny Bowman who came into the suite at twenty minutes to midnight. She was glowing, spinning, laughing and crying, in a transport of joy. She wanted to share it all. She hugged and kissed them all, George, Lois, Jason, Ida, twice around, saying, “He’s adorable! He’s a miracle! He’s a charmer! My son! Isn’t that a wild thing to say? My son! I couldn’t ever really say it out loud before. Mathew, my son.”
“What happened to your shoes?” Ida demanded.
“Mud. Lovely gummy gooey mud from the playing fields of Canterbury School. They made him a fly half, you see, because Gregson broke his leg playing Eastbourne. And Matthew is really terribly fast. My very first sight of him was in this Rugger scrum—that even sounds muddy, doesn’t it?—a great writhing mass of muddy little boys, and this little sodden thing came scooting out and the ball was kicked and he grabbed it and ran and David pointed him out and then all the rest of them came swarming down and piled onto him and I thought they would kill him and …”
“Whoa, girl,” George said. “Slow down, girl.”
She spun and dropped into a chair and beamed at them all and said, “I haven’t been this happy in … in thirteen years, people.”
“What kept you?”
“We stayed over for the end of term play. Matthew insisted. I feel so good, George.”
“I don’t want to be the one to fling a fly in the ointment, Jenny, but Sam Dean is registered here.”
Her smile faded. She looked very alert and intent for a moment, her head tilted to the side. “So schedule him, dear. I’ll butter him nicely.”
“Can you handle it?”
“I could handle a dozen of him, believe me. Lois, you look lovely.”
“Thank you, Jenny,” Lois said.
“Throw me them shoes,” Ida ordered.
“Jenny,” George said, “is anything going to mess up the schedule? Let me know right now so I can start lying to …”
She stretched luxuriantly. “I’m all yours, dear. Nothing between now and the opening but all your little chores. But don’t count on me for afterward. David and Matthew are coming to the opening.”
George stared at her. “How did you manage that?”
She winked at hi
m. “It wasn’t easy.”
“But I thought you promised …”
“Fix me a drink and gather round and I shall tell you of my day of adventure. It’s a very old place, and sort of beautiful. Imagine, I saw the little room where David’s grandfather lived when he went there. Anyway, the Rugger thing was on when we got there, and I met Matthew between halves. I should have worn Wellington boots like the other mothers. He is such a truly darling boy. They are so polite, you know. And so … so aware. He looks like David. I said so in front of him. That was a slip of the tongue. He informed me promptly and politely that he was adopted, and then he and David made some silly talk about dogs growing to look like their masters. They are very gruff and manly with each other, and they make odd little inside jokes.”
“Did you let the boy know?” Ida asked.
“Of course not! As far as he could tell, I was one of his father’s patients, and I guess he thought it a little strange his father should bring me to the school, and I could see him deciding that possibly his father was interested in me in a romantic way. All the boys in the school knew I was Jenny Bowman, of course, but I hardly ever caught them staring. They are very courteous. Matthew is dark and … he seems very sensitive and bright and terribly nice. If I had invented a son, he would be like that. Just like that. He was very watchful at first, but then after the game—they lost it, but Matthew said it was a good game, I really don’t see how you could tell a good one from a bad one—after the game, he insisted on showing me around the school, though David wasn’t exactly enthusiastic. I suppose the boy wanted to be seen with me. He was scrubbed rosy by then, and wearing his little school blazer and gray flannel trousers. And I do suppose he wanted to get to know me. It was a very special occasion for him to have his father visit him.” She paused and looked indignant. “I found out that most parents get to the school three times a term, but Matthew is lucky if David visits more than once a year. Maybe I’m being unfair. They do seem to have a good relationship. And his Aunt Beth lives nearby and visits more often.”
“So you got along with the kid?” George said.
“Marvelously! We hit it off well. We even conspired to make David climb the tower of the cathedral with us. He resented every moment of it. Two hundred and thirty-seven steps. Matthew told his father exercise was good for him. You see, the plan was that we would take Matthew to tea, drop him back at school and then David would drop me off here at the hotel. And, according to him, that would be the end of it.”
“Which it should have been,” George said.
She looked at him and her eyes narrowed. “I’ll decide what should be and what shouldn’t be, George.”
“You always do.”
“Don’t spoil things. When we got to the top of the tower, Matthew told us he’d ordered extra tickets for us. They were doing Pinafore, and he was Cousin Hebe, and even David could see that it would be too cruel a disappointment for the boy if we didn’t stay over to see it. So … we did.”
“And they gave you a part,” George said.
“You’re trying to be nasty, aren’t you? It was a good performance, really. Their voices are so clear and true. It was touching. David was beside me, and it was the voice of our son, and I had to fight to keep from crying in the wrong places. I had the feeling it was the way things should be, if David would let them be that way. And he wouldn’t be shunted off like that, either. He would be home with us, where a son that young belongs. Do you know he was bundled off to boarding school when he was eight!”
“That’s reasonably customary here, Jenny,” Jason said.
“It may be customary, but it’s inhuman.”
“Maybe he likes it,” George said.
“He has to. He hasn’t much choice. Afterward there were buns and lemonade and I told him he was wonderful in the part. And I sang some of the songs with them, with my son and his friends. We practically got a whole new version going. They applauded us. I hugged him. It was the first chance I had. I held him in my arms. I … held him … close to me.”
She wiped her eyes and smiled brilliantly and said, “So then I told him turnabout was fair play. I’d come to his opening, so he had to come to mine. His eyes got as big as saucers. He went running to his father and told him they were invited to my opening night. David was very surly about it. He said that Matthew was supposed to spend the first week of his holidays in Canterbury with his Aunt Beth, and then come to London for three days promised him with his father. David took me aside. He wanted to know what made me think I could break my promise about just seeing the boy once. I told him that I was not asking—Matthew was. So the Donnes, father and son, are to have the best seats in the house on Friday, George.”
“Can do.”
“Better do. And David was very sour on the way in. Quarrels and silences. But I do not give a damn. I wanted to see David between now and Friday. I begged him. I humbled myself. But he said no. He is a tiresome man. But on Friday night I’ll sing to those two. How I’ll sing to them!”
Jason’s phone woke him at six on Tuesday morning in his room at the Dorchester. It was Wegler phoning from California, his voice slightly distorted but audible.
“Figuring the time difference, Jase, I thought this would be a good time to catch you. How are things going, my boy?”
“I would say they are going about as you expected, Sid.”
“Now that isn’t the happiest news in the world, is it? You remember who is picking up the tab for you, Jase. The last thing we want is to have that lovely lady, that fine property, endangering herself and a lot of other people who depend on her. I can feel a little better about this whole thing if you assure me that you are talking to her like an uncle. She respects your opinion, you know.”
“I think the time for that kind of talk would have been about three or four months ago. Right now the best thing to do is to try to keep it from getting out of hand.”
“Is she already in touch with him?”
“Yes. With both of them.”
“How is she reacting? What is her mood?”
“Sid, I would say her mood is manic. I would say she is in a highly emotional condition. After all, it is just about the most basic emotional situation you can think of.”
“Is Kogan nervous?”
“We’re all nervous, Sid, and the best we can do is stand by her and help her as much as we can.”
“I would hate to think that you would get a little emotional about this yourself, Jase, and help her make a damn fool of herself and ruin everything she has spent so many years building.”
“I’m doing what I can, and Kogan is doing what he can. But we have a very delicate situation over here right now, Sid.”
“Haven’t I been telling you that?”
“You didn’t tell me that Sam Dean was going to be here, nosing around.” He waited for a few moments. “Hello? Sid?”
“I’m still here, my boy. That came as a blow. Does Sam Dean have any kind of a clue?”
“Not yet. But he has the idea something is wrong.”
“Who gave him that idea?”
“He has a sixth sense for knowing when something is wrong. He came here from Athens. He was leaving the day after tomorrow, but he thinks he might stay and see how Jenny is getting along.”
For a moment Sid’s voice faded and then came back, “… try to keep him in the dark as long as you can, and I will try to stir up something at this end that will decoy him away from you people.”
“I hope you can. We’d all feel better about it.”
“The way you talk, Jase, you sound as if you were a member of that team over there. I would feel better if you sounded like a member of my team.”
“I am here trying to protect your interests.”
“Wholeheartedly, Jase.”
“Yes indeed.”
“Talk up the picture to Jenny, my boy. Tell her how well we will treat her. Tell her we are budgeting it at ten million.”
“If I can get her attention.”
“She’s never been as interested in money as some of the others.”
“My boy, if you can keep the roof from falling in over there, you might well be assigned to that picture for the duration.”
“I would like that, Sid.”
“I’ll be in touch,” he said and hung up.
Jason thumped the pillow and tried to find a comfortable position and go back to sleep. But within a few minutes he knew it was no good. He kept thinking of the odd quarrel he had with Lois just before leaving their hotel. Jenny had kept them up until after one-thirty. She wanted to share the way she felt. George had kept trying to calm her down but she had resisted him. Finally she had said, her eyes blazing, “Okay, okay, okay, George! I’m a star. I’m a smash. I gave away my baby. Sam Dean is here. Okay! I’ll be careful! I’ll wear sneakers. I’ll puff out my cheeks, paint myself blue and limp. But I am going to see my son again, Sam Dean or no Sam Dean, career or no career, scandal or no scandal. Now kindly shut up about it!”
“Jenny, baby, all I’m trying to do is …”
“All I want to be is happy,” she said. “All I ever wanted to be is happy.” And she began to cry. George signaled to Lois and Jason. They started toward the door. Lois paused and went over to Jenny and kissed her on the temple and whispered good night. They went out into the hall and Jason closed the door.
As Jason walked her down toward her room, Lois said, “What are we trying to do to her?”
“What does that mean?”
“George loves to wheel and deal. Ida has eighteen years of security and she’s used to it. I want to see the world. You want to protect that damned picture deal. Mr. Wegler wants his star unsullied. The doctor wants her off his neck. Sam Dean wants to smash her for good.” She leaned against the corridor wall beside her door and looked into his eyes, frowning. “What kind of a ride are we all trying to take at her expense, Jason?” she whispered.
“She made her choices a long time ago.”
“Does that excuse you?”
“Excuse me from what, for God’s sake?”
I Could Go on Singing Page 8
