They finally made it to the bar. Steve turned back to the room, a Scotch in his hand. Selena was off with some friends. The noise pressed down on him after the quiet of the day on the beach and he moved outside to the terrace. He stood there at the railing looking at the ocean.
On the horizon were the lights of a coastal steamer; the breakers spent themselves on the beach. It had been almost a year since he had seen Sam. Almost a year since Sam made his new deal with Trans-World.
Somehow he could never see Sam in the Hollywood environment. There was something completely alien about the little man. But he had come out and he had the big house in Beverly Hills and the children went to the Beverly Hills School and Denise—. He wondered about Denise. He felt an odd disturbance over the news that Marilu was Sam’s girlfriend. That was not in character for Sam either.
He pushed it from his mind. It was none of his affair anyway. They were all adults and had their own lives to live. Chances were that none of them approved much of his own way of life.
Sam and Marilu arrived late. Late by Hollywood standards. Ten thirty. At that hour the guests were beginning to leave. Monday was a workday and those who were working had to be at the studios early and those who were not working would not let it show.
There was a sound of greeting at the entrance. “I was beginning to worry you couldn’t make it,” he heard Ardis say.
Steve turned to watch. The whole party seemed to gravitate toward Sam and Marilu. Sam was smiling, his face slightly flushed and perspiring. He’d already had a few drinks before he got there.
Marilu was standing beside him. Steve looked at her. There was no doubt about it. Whenever she came into a room all the other women paled by comparison. She stood next to Sam, with the inner air of assurance that only a woman truly secure in her beauty can achieve.
Someone put a drink in Sam’s hand and he gulped it thirstily. “We were held up by a call from Rome,” he was explaining, when he saw Steve watching him from outside. He stopped speaking suddenly, a kind of embarrassment crossing his face. Then he finished his drink and made his way out to the terrace.
“Steve!” he exclaimed. He embraced him and kissed him on both cheeks, European fashion. “Why didn’t you let me know you were in town? We could have arranged something.”
“It was a quick trip,” Steve said. “Just the weekend, I’m back to New York tomorrow.”
“You should have called me anyway. It’s been too long.”
“You’ve been busy.”
“Not too busy for you. Never too busy for old friends.” Marilu came up to them. “By the way,” he added, “do you know Marilu Barzini?”
Steve bowed. “We met at the Academy Awards. But it was brief, almost two years ago, and there were many people around.”
“Steve Gaunt,” Sam said to Marilu.
Marilu nodded. “I remember. You’re the young man who runs the television. Sam spoke of you from Rome when we were talking about making The Sisters.”
Steve stared. The telephone conversation came back to him. So it had begun even then. She had been the girl in the room with Sam. “You have a fantastic memory.”
“I never forget anything.” The way she said it made Steve believe it. She would never forget anything that was important to her or her career.
Someone came and pulled Sam away, leaving Marilu with him. “Can I get you a drink?” he asked politely.
“Champagne,” she said.
He signaled one of the waiters. The champagne was in her hand in a moment. Steve lit a cigarette. “Are you enjoying your stay here?”
She smiled. “I like America.”
“Do you plan to stay long?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Sam has a picture he wants me to do, then they want to sign me for two others afterward.”
“How nice,” Steve. “What picture?”
She made a face. “A Western. Can you imagine that? Me, in a Western. But Sam says it is a very good script. And it is with Gary Cooper.”
Steve looked across the room. Selena was watching them. Suddenly he was tired. He hoped she would not find out tonight that there was no chance for her to get the job.
“I owe you my thanks,” Marilu said.
He was startled. His mind had been away. “Thanks? For what?”
“That time in Rome,” she said. “If you had not encouraged him the picture might never have been made.”
“The picture would have been made.”
Sam came back to them. He took Marilu’s arm possessively. “We have to be going. There’s another party I promised to drop in on.”
“Too bad,” Steve said dryly.
“Yes,” Sam said. “I wish you were staying over a few days. There’s so much I’d like to talk to you about.”
“I have a board meeting in New York that I can’t miss.”
“You call me the next time you get in town,” Sam said.
Steve nodded. His eyes caught a glimpse of Golden Girl. Obeying an impulse, he gestured to her. “Just one moment, Sam. There’s an actress I’d like you to meet.”
Golden Girl came up to them. Sam turned toward her. “Golden Girl, I’d like you to meet Sam Benjamin,” Steve said. “Sam, this is Selena Fisher. She might be just the girl for that Western you’re doing.”
Sam looked at him. “That’s cast already. The announcement’s going out tomorrow. Marilu’s going to do it.” He turned back to Selena. “But you come in to see me, my dear. I’m sure there are other things that I am doing for which you would be right.”
Over Sam’s head, Steve met Marilu’s eyes. They were cool and green. Green like a savage animal in the night. He smiled at her. She did not smile back. It was like a declaration of war.
He knew.
She knew.
Sam did not.
CHAPTER FOUR
They got into the backseat of the limousine. “Dave Diamond’s place in Bel Air,” Sam told the chauffeur.
“No,” Marilu said. “Take me back to the hotel.”
“It will be just a few minutes, honey,” he said. “I promised Dave I’d stop in for a nightcap on the way home.”
“No,” she repeated stubbornly. “I have had enough of those stupid parties.”
“But it’s important,” Sam said. “Dave is coming up with the financing for your next two pictures.”
“If it is that important, then drop me at the hotel and you go.” She drew back into the corner of the seat, turning her face away from him, looking out the window at the traffic on the Coast Highway.
“Okay.” He said to the driver, “Change that to the hotel.”
They were silent until the car turned onto Sunset Boulevard and began to climb into the hills toward Los Angeles. “What’s bugging you?” he asked finally.
“Nothing.”
“It’s got to be something,” he said. “You were fine when the evening started.”
She didn’t answer.
He reached for her hand, but she shook him off. “Okay. Have it your way.”
They didn’t speak until the car reached the outskirts of Brentwood. The lights of a small shopping center faded behind them as she turned to him.
“Are you going to stay the night?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“Jesus, honey. I’ve already stayed out one night this week,” he said. “I only got so many excuses I can pull on Denise. She’d kill me.”
She made her voice deliberately contemptuous. “If she does not know by now she must be stupid.”
He didn’t answer.
“You American men are cowards,” she went on. “I can understand not divorcing. There are many reasons. Property. The tax. But Nickie did not hesitate for one minute. He left his wife and moved in with me.”
“This isn’t Europe,” he said defensively. “It’s different here. They don’t accept things like that.”
“So I must live alone in a hotel like some putana you visit when you h
ave the need?”
He reached for her hand and held it this time. “That’s not true, honey,” he said earnestly. “And you know it. You know how I feel about you.”
“How do you feel about me, Mr. Benjamin the great producer?”
“Don’t get sarcastic,” he said. “I love you.”
“If you love me then you would stay with me tonight. Tonight I need you. You know how I hate to sleep alone.”
“I can’t,” he said desperately.
She burrowed her hand into his lap. “You know how I like to sleep. With my hand holding you. All night.”
“Don’t make it worse for me,” he said. “Maybe I can work something out tomorrow night. I promised I would be home tonight.”
“You promised!” She pulled her hand back violently. She began to cry.
“Marilu!” Clumsily he tried to stroke her hair.
Viciously she struck his hand away. “Don’t touch me!” she sobbed.
He felt the blood come up on the back of his hand where her fingernails had raked him. He put his hand to his mouth and sucked on it.
“I don’t know why I listened to you,” she sobbed. “Nickie told me you were not like him. That you did not care for me as he did. That you only wanted to use me.”
“Use you?” He was angry, the entire scene was too much for him. “Use you, you cheap guinea cunt? I got you up to a half a million dollars a picture and a piece of the gross and you say I used you? You came for one reason only. You go where the money is.”
She stopped sobbing abruptly. This was the first time he had ever raised his voice to her. The expression on her face changed. “You do love me” she said in a suddenly sure voice.
“Of course I love you, you bitch,” he snapped at her. “Why the hell else do you think I am with you? Risking my marriage, the laughter of my friends who think I’m an old man grabbing for his last hard?”
She took his hand and pressed it to her lips, tasting the blood on it. “I hurt you,” she half crooned. “I’m sorry, your baby is sorry.”
He let out a deep breath. “It’s all right. Forget it.”
The limousine turned into the driveway of the Beverly Hills Hotel. She moved closer to him on the seat. “Will you come in for just a little while?”
He didn’t answer.
“I promise not to keep you too long,” she said, turning the palm of his hand to her mouth and letting the tip of her tongue reach into it. “Just long enough to show you I am really sorry.”
Her ideas of a little time and his were completely different. He felt the weariness seeping through him. “Tomorrow night,” he said. “I must be up very early in the morning.”
“You promise?”
He nodded.
“You are no longer angry with me?”
“No.”
The limousine stopped and the chauffeur got out and walked around to the door. He opened it and stood there waiting.
“It was your friend,” she said abruptly.
Sam was surprised. “My friend?”
“Yes,” she said. “The television man. It was the way he looked at me. He did not like me.”
“You’re mistaken,” he said. “Steve is a big fan of yours.”
“No. He does not like me. I could tell. Else why did he call that girl over for the part in the picture?”
“He didn’t know you were going to play it.”
“Yes, he did,” she said. “I told him just before you came back. Still he called her over anyway.”
Sam said nothing.
“It is maybe because he is a good friend of your wife’s that he looks at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I am a tramp,” she said. She got out of the car. “I do not want to see him again.”
He got out beside her. “I’m sure you’re mistaken. Steve isn’t like that at all.”
“He is your friend. I will not say any more,” she said. “It is not right for a woman to come between two friends.”
“The next time he comes out, I’ll arrange a luncheon,” Sam said. “Just the three of us. You’ll see you were mistaken.”
“Maybe.” She turned her cheek for his good-night kiss. “Good night, Sam.”
He stood there until she disappeared into the hotel and then wearily got back into the car. All he could think of was climbing into bed and going to sleep. He hoped Denise was not waiting for him. He wasn’t up to telling a lot of lies about tonight.
***
Denise was in bed when she heard the car enter the driveway. She put down the book she had been reading and listened. She heard the creak of the front door, then his footsteps mounting the stairs. Quickly she turned off the light, pulling up the covers.
The bedroom door opened softly and some of the light from the hall spilled into the room. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to make her breathing soft and even. He came silently into the room and she could sense him looking down at her. She did not move and after what seemed a long time, he turned and went away.
She listened in the dark to the soft, quiet sounds of him undressing. The dull thud of the shoes, the rustle of his shirt and trousers. She heard him go into the bathroom, then into the adjoining guest room to sleep.
She turned her face into the pillow and began to cry. They were soft, stifled sobs. Hollywood. She hated it.
CHAPTER FIVE
“I’m a one-man studio,” Sam bragged uninhibitedly. “When Look, Mama, the Fat Clown’s Crying starts shooting tomorrow, it will make the seventh picture I have in production this year. Not bad for a guy his second year in Hollywood, is it?”
Steve watched him across the table. Sam’s enthusiasm was contagious. “Not bad,” he agreed.
Sam looked around the crowded studio commissary and leaned toward Steve, lowering his voice. “You know when I came out here you could shoot clay pigeons in this restaurant. Now it’s packed with people. Most of them working on my pictures.” His voice lowered still further. “You know they say Rory Craddock would have been out of here if he hadn’t made the deal with me. I’m supporting the whole fucking place.”
Steve laughed. “But what do you have to do to get a drink around here?”
Sam’s face fell. “Damn, that’s one thing I should have thought of before we left my office. All you can get here is wine or beer. But I didn’t want to be late. Marilu is joining us on her lunch break.”
“Can I get a beer?”
Sam signaled the waitress. “Beer for Mr. Gaunt.” He turned back to Steve. “I’m glad you called me. I wanted you to get to know Marilu. She’s a wonderful girl besides being a great actress.”
The waitress put the beer in front of Steve. “How’s her picture going?”
“Fantastic,” Sam said. “The rushes are unbelievable. When Coop couldn’t do the picture because of a conflict, I thought we were heading for the crapper. But then I came up with Jack Claw and he’s great. But it’s Marilu who makes the big difference. She puts the class into it, so that it’s not just another Western.”
“I’m glad,” Steve said. He looked across the table at Sam. “How are Denise and the children?”
“Denise is just fine,” Sam said. “And they’re right about this place. It’s the greatest in the world to bring up children. You should see them. They love it out here.”
“I’d like to see them,” Steve said.
“Sure thing,” Sam said, “I’ll fix it up one night. You’ll come over the house for dinner. I’ll get Denise to send over to the kosher butcher on Fairfax for some of that favorite brust flanken of yours.”
“Just let me know,” Steve said. “My mouth’s watering already.”
A hum of noise came from the entrance. Steve did not have to look to know that Marilu had arrived. She paused there, signing autographs for the visitors, and then came down the aisle toward their table. They rose.
Sam stepped out into the aisle to make room for her between them on the banquette. He kissed her cheek. “You look mar
velous, dear.”
“This makeup is terrible,” she said. “But you’re kind.” She turned to Steve. “So nice to see you again, Mr. Gaunt.”
He took her outstretched hand. “My pleasure, Miss Barzini.”
“We’re so formal it’s not American,” she said. “Please call me Marilu.”
“If you call me Steve.”
She looked at his glass. “Is that beer?”
He nodded.
“I’m so thirsty, do you mind?” She picked it up and drank from it. She put it down with a sigh. “We were on the back lot all morning and the sun was so hot.”
Sam called the waitress. “Two more beers. Aah, the hell with it. Make it three beers. I’ve had enough of this diet-drink crap.”
The waitress nodded. She stood there. “The usual for lunch, Mr. Benjamin?”
“Yes,” he said. He looked at Steve. “The food isn’t bad. You can order almost anything without being poisoned.”
Marilu didn’t eat, she pushed the food around while Sam picked the French fries off her plate. Steve finished his steak and sat back with his coffee.
“Do you spend much time out here, Steve?” Marilu asked.
“Quite a bit,” he said. “Almost half my time. I’m wondering if it isn’t a good idea to move my offices out here.”
“Sooner or later, you’ll have to,” Sam said. “This is where the action is.”
The waitress came to the table. “Your office is on the phone, Mr. Benjamin. Shall I bring the phone to the table?”
Sam shook his head. “Don’t bother. I’ll be quicker if I take it at the desk.”
They watched him go down the aisle and pick up the telephone. He began to talk rapidly into it.
“He works too hard,” Marilu said. “He never stops.”
Steve looked at her without answering.
She returned his gaze evenly. “Do you work like that also?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Yes and no.”
“That’s a very European answer,” she said.
“I try not to. But I get caught sometimes.”
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