It was two minutes to seven. He went to the bar and mixed a light Scotch-and-soda for himself, a vermouth on the rocks for Judith. He wondered how she could drink the stuff. It tasted like varnish. But Judith claimed that all the great beauties in Europe only drank wine or vermouth. Of course, Judith meant the great beauties over forty. Funny how a beautiful woman like Judith could have an age complex. She entered the den after knocking lightly. This tapping was a joke—asking permission to come into “his” den. But he went along with it. He realized in some way it nullified any guilt she felt for taking over the library.
She took her place on the twin leather chair across from him. And he thought as he did every night when he saw her sitting there, “God, she’s a beautiful woman.” She was forty-six and looked barely thirty-five. He felt a sudden swell of pride and sense of well-being. He loved the goddam den—it had become a part of their lives. Even if they were going to the theater or giving a dinner party, they had their drink together in his den while they watched the seven o’clock news. To Gregory Austin, nothing got going until after the seven o’clock news. And Judith had dutifully built their social life around this order.
The news began: “Good evening and welcome to News at Seven. We are saving the last five minutes of our program for an unscheduled appearance of the president of IBC News, the star of In Depth, Mr. Robin Stone.”
“What the hell!” Gregory sat on the edge of his chair.
“Since when has Robin Stone appeared on the seven o’clock news?” Judith asked.
“Since one second ago when I heard the announcement.”
“He’s a very handsome man,” Judith commented. “But when I watch him on In Depth I get the feeling that he takes extreme care to let nothing of himself ever leak out before the camera. How do you find him?”
“Exactly like he is on television. You hit it right on the head. He’s an enigma. Great surface charm, but everything else locked in.”
Judith’s eyes glinted with a touch of interest. “Let’s invite him to dinner one night. I’d like to meet him.”
Gregory laughed. “You can’t be serious.”
“Why not? Several of my girl friends are dying to meet him. He’s never seen in public. And he’s really catching on.”
“Judith, you know my rule. I don’t mix with hired help.”
“When we go to the Coast we attend their parties.”
“I do that because I figure you get a bang out of it. Besides, that’s different. They’re throwing the parties for us. We’re not inviting them to our home. The New Year’s Day bash we give takes care of them. And it’s great that way. Makes them feel they’re being presented at court.”
She reached over and patted his hand. “For a man who was raised on Tenth Avenue, you’re the biggest snob in the world.”
“No, it’s just business sense. Hell—I couldn’t care less about dinner parties or social status. But anything that’s hard to get is sought after.”
She laughed. “Gregory, you’re a wheeling-dealing bastard.”
“I sure am. Even our New Year’s Day party is no open house. Very few people from IBC make it.”
She smiled. “The eggnog party is so square that it’s in. And it was my idea. Do you know Women’s Wear Daily said it was becoming an annual event? It even made Ernestine Carter’s column in the London Times”
“I think we had too many show-business names this year.”
“We need them, darling. A few of them add dash to the party. And it isn’t easy, Greg, getting the right people together at that time of the year.”
He waved his hand, and listened to a news item that interested him. She was silent until the commercial came on.
“Greg, when can we leave for Palm Beach? We’re usually there by the end of January. But you insisted on staying in town for the premiere of that dreadful Christie Lane Show”
“I want to stay here for a few more weeks. I think we can build that show into a real winner. But you can go. I’ll get there by the beginning of March at the latest.”
“Then I’ll leave Thursday—I’ll have the house all set when you get there.”
He nodded absently. The news had returned to the air.
Judith stared at the screen without really watching. “Well, 1 guess Robin Stone will have to keep until next New Year’s Day …”
“Not even then.” Gregory handed her his glass for a refill.
“Why not?”
“Because I’d have to invite all the presidents of the other departments. Christ, Danton Miller only made it for the first time this year.” He leaned over and turned up the volume.
She handed him his drink. Then she hung over his shoulders. “Greg darling, my girl friends don’t want to meet Danton Miller. But they do want to meet Robin Stone.”
He patted her hand. “We’ll see, that’s a year away. Anything can happen by then.”
Suddenly he sat forward. The camera came in for a tight close-up of Robin. Gregory could see why Judith’s friends were interested. He was a hell of a good-looking guy.
“Good evening”—The clipped voice filled the room. “We’ve all been fascinated by the news story of a genuine adventure of modern-day piracy. I’m speaking of the Portuguese cruise ship Santa Maria that was seized at gunpoint in the Caribbean by twenty-four Portuguese and Spanish political exiles and six crew members. This raid was led by Henrique Galvão, a former Portuguese army captain. Three days ago, January thirty-first, Admiral Smith went aboard the Santa Maria thirty miles off Recife, Brazil, and held a mid-ocean conference with Galvão. Word has just reached me that Galvão has agreed to allow the passengers to leave the ship today. Galvão has been promised, along with his twenty-nine followers, asylum in Brazil by President Janio Quadros. There were also American tourists on board. But most of all, this reporter is interested in obtaining a filmed interview with Henrique Galvão. I am leaving tonight. I hope to bring back an In Depth interview with Galvão and perhaps some of the American passengers who were on the pirated ship. Good night, and thank you.”
Gregory Austin clicked off the set in rage. “How dare he just take off like that without reporting to anyone! Why wasn’t I told? He just returned from London a few weeks ago. I want live shows, not tape—that’s our main selling point against the competition.”
“Robin can’t do all his In Depth shows live, Greg. It’s the world-famous people who give it stature. I, for one, would be fascinated to see an In Depth on this Galvã;o. I’d like to see the man who at sixty-five has the courage to pirate a luxury liner with six hundred passengers.”
But Gregory was on the phone, demanding that the IBC operator track down Danton Miller. Five minutes later the call came through.
“Dan!” Gregory’s face was red with anger. “I’m sure you have no idea what’s going on. You’re sitting at ‘21’ relaxing—”
Danton’s voice was cool. “Yes, I was relaxing on a nice sofa in the lobby, watching our IBC seven o’clock news.”
“Well, did you know about Robin’s trip to Brazil?”
“Why should I? He doesn’t have to report to anyone but you.”
Gregory’s face went a shade darker. “Well, damn it, then why didn’t he tell me?”
“Perhaps he tried. You weren’t in the office today. I tried to reach you several times during the afternoon with some further reports on The Christie Lane Show. The out-of-town notices were great. I had them put on your desk.”
Gregory’s face went rigid with anger. “Yes, I was out this afternoon,” he shouted. “And I have a right to be out one afternoon in a month!” (He had purchased two new horses and had driven to Westbury to see them.) “Goddammit,” he went on, “you mean, if I’m not there one day the whole network falls apart?”
“I don’t think the network is going to fall apart because one guy takes off for Brazil. Still I don’t like the idea of Robin Stone using the seven o’clock news as a publicity bulletin for himself. Gregory, I don’t like the president of any departmen
t having this kind of authority. But, unfortunately, Robin does not have to check with me. Since you were unavailable, the announcement might have been his way of telling you. It’s faster than Western Union.”
Gregory slammed down the receiver. Danton Miller’s obvious pleasure over the situation spiked his anger into a helpless rage. He stood staring into space, his fists clenched. Judith walked over and handed him a fresh drink. Then she smiled at him. “Aren’t you being childish? The man has pulled a big coup, for your network. Everyone who heard the seven o’clock news will be looking forward to the interview. Now relax and have your drink. We’re due at the Colony at eight fifteen for dinner.”
“I’m dressed.”
She patted his face gently. “I think you might have one tiny run-over with the electric razor. We’re having dinner with Ambassador Ragil tonight. And he’s got three Arabian horses you’re keen on. So come on. Smile! Let me see the Austin charm.”
His frown disappeared. “I guess I like to be Big Daddy all the way,” he said grudgingly. “And you’re right. Making that announcement was a superb piece of showmanship. It’s just that it’s my network—I created it, built it. I don’t like anyone making decisions without my approval.”
“You also don’t like your trainer to buy horses unless you personally inspect them. Darling, you can’t be everywhere.”
He grinned. “You’re always right, Judith.”
She smiled. “And I think by next New Year’s Day Robin Stone will be big enough to rate an invitation… .”
When Amanda heard the news, she stood staring at the set. It couldn’t be true. Any second the buzzer would ring and Robin would be standing at the door. He was probably on his way now, and she’d drive to the airport with him.
She waited ten minutes. By eight fifteen she had smoked six cigarettes. She called his apartment. It rang monotonously. She dialed IBC. They had no idea of what flight Mr. Stone was using, but suggested she try Pan Am.
At eight thirty the phone rang. She banged her ankle against the table, rushing to it.
“This is Ivan the Terrible.”
Her face fell. She loved Ivan Greenberg, but tears ran down her face from disappointment.
“You there, Mandy?”
“Yes.” Her voice was low.
“Oh—did I interrupt anything?”
“No, I was just watching television.”
He laughed. “That’s right, now that you’re a big TV star you’ve got to keep up with the competition.”
“Ivan, I adore you, but I want to keep my line open. I’m expecting an important call.”
“Okay, pussycat, I know—I heard the seven o’clock news—the Great Stone Man is off, so I thought you might grab a hamburger with me.”
“I’ve got to get off the phone, Ivan.”
“All right, get a good night’s sleep—we have an eleven o’clock sitting tomorrow.”
She sat and stared at the phone. At nine fifteen she checked with Pan Am. Yes, there was a Mr. Robin Stone booked on the nine o’clock flight. The flight had gone on schedule—it had been airborne for fifteen minutes. She flopped into a chair while the tears ran down her face in black rivulets. Her mascara was all but gone and her false lashes were coming loose. She pulled them off and put them on the coffee table.
She got up slowly and walked into the living room. She had to talk to someone. Ivan had always been her confidant.
She dialed nervously and gasped in relief when he picked it up on the second ring.
“Ivan, I want that hamburger.”
“Great, I was just leaving. Meet me at the Tiger Inn: it’s a new joint on First Avenue, at Fifty-third. Right near you.”
“No, you get the hamburgers and bring them here.”
“Oh, I dig. Torture time.”
“Please, Ivan, I’ve got steaks if you like, and a salad—”
“No, baby, if you stay home it’ll be like real hysterics—and that means swollen eyelids tomorrow. Not when you’re sitting for me, pussycat. I had to work an hour on the lights when the Stone Man took off for London a few weeks back. You want a hamburger, meet me at the Tiger Inn. At least there you’ll have to keep your composure.”
“I look awful. It would take me an hour to redo my eyes.”
“Since when have you run out of dark glasses?”
“Okay.” She felt too weary to resist. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
The Tiger Inn was enjoying a flash of popularity. It was almost filled. Amanda recognized some models and some advertising men. She toyed with a hamburger and stared at Ivan, mutely demanding an answer.
He scratched his beard. “There’s no answer. He loves you this morning—and disappears this evening. With all the great cats in this town, you have to pick a character like Robin Stone. I mean, it’s not even your scene. After all, who is he, what is he? Just a newscaster.”
“He’s not just a newscaster. He’s president of IBC News!”
He shrugged. “Big deal! I bet if I mentioned both your names at every table here, they’d all know you and say ‘Robin who?’ When you walk into a restaurant, everyone knows you. But Robin Stone?”
Her smile was weak. “Robin doesn’t care about things like that. We don’t even go to the right restaurants! He has an Italian place he adores and the Lancer Bar. Sometimes I cook.”
“God, what a thrilling life you have.”
“I love it, Ivan! Look, I’ve been in this town five years. I’ve seen every place and nothing matters but being with the man you care about. I love him.”
“Why?”
She scratched Robin’s initials on the wet paper napkin. “I wish I knew.”
“Is he better than anyone else in the feathers? Like, does he have a new scene?”
She turned her head away and the tears slid down under the rims of her dark glasses.
“Cool it, Mandy,” he said. “Those cats across the room are staring.”
“I don’t care. I don’t know them.”
“But they know you! Christ, baby, you’re on two covers this month. You’re really hot. Enjoy it—make it pay!”
“Who cares?”
“You’d better care. It’s a cinch that Robin Stone isn’t about to pay your rent or buy you any fur coats. Maybe making money doesn’t mean anything to you? Or maybe you have rich relatives or something like that going for you.”
“No, I have to work. My mother’s dead. I was raised by an aunt. I have to support her now.”
“Then you’d better get with it! Make this year pay off. Because next year there could be a new girl. If you make it to the very top—play it smart and establish a top salary—you’ll be a top model for maybe ten years.”
The tears slipped down her cheeks again. “But it’s not going to get me Robin.”
He stared at her. “What’s your scene, baby? Self-destruction? You enjoy sitting around and crying for him? Is that going to turn him on?”
“You don’t think I’ve already lost him?”
“I only wish you had. Because he’s bad news. A guy who walks through life without getting turned on destroys everything he touches.”
“No, I ruined it. I know I did, this morning on the phone. I smothered him.”
“Mandy, you’re sick. Look, nothing is ruined. Maybe he’s not so bad. Maybe you’re just some kind of nut.”
“Why? Because I’m hurt? I have a right to be. Look what he did to me!”
“Okay, what did he do? He left on a job without calling to say goodbye. Big deal! How many times have I done the same thing? And you’ve understood, because we’re friends.”
“That’s different than love,” she argued.
“You mean love fucks up everything.”
She managed a weak laugh.
“Look, maybe Robin is a nice cat. I’m only reading him from you. But you should work your pretty little ass off to be a big smash. Make him proud of you—that’s the way to hold a guy!”
“Oh, Ivan, you make it sound so simple.
In a few minutes you’ll have me waiting for his cable to arrive.”
“Could happen. But you’ll be a loser if you just sit around crying. Let word get to him that you’re having a ball.”
“Then he’d have a real excuse for dropping me.”
“The way it sounds, this cat doesn’t need an excuse for anything. He does what he wants to do. Try playing it cool. Go out with other guys while he’s away.”
“With whom?” she demanded.
“I’m not running an escort service, pussycat. You must know plenty of guys.”
She shook her head. “I’ve been seeing no one but Robin for a year.”
“You mean no one else has ever made a pass?”
She smiled slightly. “No one that I’ve paid any attention to, including that horrible Christie Lane. But that wasn’t a real pass. He just asked me out.”
“You could do worse.”
She looked at him to see if he meant it. When she realized he was serious, she made a wry face.
“What’s so bad about Christie Lane?”
“You saw the show. He hasn’t an ounce of sex appeal. He’s a slob.”
“Well, I wouldn’t exactly rush and ask him to pose for Esquire. He’s a nice average guy who happens to be a big star.”
“He’s not a star. I mean he’s star of The Christie Lane Show. But did you see the notice in the Times? He has to be canceled after thirteen weeks.”
“In thirteen weeks you could get a hell of a lot of publicity going out with him.”
“But I can’t stand him.”
“I’m not telling you to go to bed with him. Just let some of his publicity wash off on you.”
“But it wouldn’t be right to go out with him just for publicity.”
He took her chin in his hand. “You’re a nice girl. A nice, stupid girl with an unlined face. A nice, stupid girl who thinks that face will stay intact forever. Honey, I’m thirty-eight and I can still get all the eighteen-year-old chicks I want. And when I’m forty-eight or fifty-eight with gray in my beard, I’ll still get them. But when you’re thirty-eight, you’ll only get high-fashion jobs—full length, that is. If you’ve taken care of yourself! But no more face ads, or hands—the ugly brown age freckles will have started. And even a slob like Christie Lane won’t look at you. But right now, and maybe for the next ten years, you can have anything and anyone.”
The Love Machine Page 11
