They left the “Garden of Allah” and walked back to Georgia’s apartment.
“What about doing the picture? I hope it’s yes,” he said.
“I have to work out a few personal things before I can give you a definite answer. I’m hopeful.”
“You have made me happy. Everything is going to change in my country. We can get married at my father’s finca. You will like my family and they will adore you. O, mi amor, I love you.” He reached over to kiss her and she responded to him.
Their lovemaking brought them together in unity as they explored their bodies and their souls throughout the night and by morning they had cemented a relationship that would last for a lifetime.
CHAPTER TEN
Clint’s bright red 140 Jaguar roadster swung into Thorton North’s curved driveway and parked under an expansive portico. As he buzzed the front door, a bright light flashed on and a tiny television camera focused on him.
A cheery black maid opened the door.
“Hello, Mister Clint. Mr. North is in his office.”
“Thanks Maisie. Is Marge home?”
“No, she’s out shopping”. Maisie left for the kitchen.
Clint went behind the bar and fixed himself vodka. He peered out to the expansive view of Los Angeles and Beverly Hills below as Thorton entered and sat at a tool at the bar.
“Hello, Thorton, what will you have?”
“Fix me a double.” Clint thought Thorton looked sober so he fixed him a weak scotch. He watched Thorton pick up the drink and gulp it down.
“What kind of calf piss is this?” asked Thorton as he pushed the glass back for more.
“Thorton, are you racing in Havana?”
“Yes, we’re getting the Ferrari ready. I’ve been on the phone with Havana. I got a couple of suites at The Nacional. We can watch the race from our balcony. Don’t have to go near the damn track”.
“I’m going too. My client, Marty Fallon, has a club date at Meyer Lansky’s Riviera, and Fangio’s racing. That I gotta see”.
“Make me another double.” Thorton pushed his empty glass toward Clint. “A little girl Jimmy introduced me to has been calling. I told her to come up.”
“Do you think that’s wise with Marge here?”
“Hell, she’ll never know.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about Marge”
They heard the door latch open and Marshall, Thorton’s business manager, walked in. His open shirt revealed lots of gold around his neck; a chunky gold watch hung from his wrist and a heavy linked gold bracelet on the other.
Gifts from Marge, thought Clint.
“Marshall, I’m glad you’re here. Thorton is about to call one of his whores. Talk him out of it. You can’t fool Marge.”
“Clint’s right. Wait till we get to Cuba. I’ll get you all the whores you want down there,” said Marshall.
“Hell, I woke up this morning with this big throbbing hard on. It won’t go away. I even put on the air-conditioner,” said Thorton as he got up and left the room.
“We’re in for it,” said Clint.
“I’m leaving,” said Marshall.
“No, you’re not. It could be fun,” said Clint.
When the doorbell rang, Clint yelled out, “I’ll get it, Maisie. It’s for me.” Clint made his way to the front door. He checked the monitor and saw a young girl and let her in.
“Hi, I’m Shirley,” said the blonde as she extended her hand. She was sexy, about twenty with big breasts and a cinched small waist. She wore a black and white large polka dot dress, open in the front. A young Mae West, thought Clint. “I’m Clint,” he said. Thorton is in his room.
Follow me.”
He opened the door to Thorton’s bedroom. Thorton sat on the large bed in a pair of long boxer shorts looking like he had just gotten out of a concentration camp. His stick legs were crossed as he peered into a glass of scotch. Clint knew the white plastic dish placed by his feet was used for spit and vomit.
“Hello Mr. North,” the girl said. “I’m Shirley, remember?”
“Why sure, honey. Sit down next to me. I want to tell you a story.” he said. Shirley sat down.
“Thorton, why don’t you and Shirley go to the office? S0MEBODY will be here soon. Have you forgotten?”
“Now that’s a pregnant thought. Why didn’t I think of it?” said Thorton as he pushed himself to his feet while Shirley steadied him.
Clint called into the bar. “Marshall, go to the kitchen and keep Maisie busy. I don’t want her to see Shirley.” Marshall went off to the kitchen.
“Thorton, you lead the way,” said Clint.
“Clint, you’re such a good friend,” he said as he moved slowly toward the rear of the house.
Shirley stayed back and pulled Clint aside. “Is he okay? He’s a no-go to me.”
“You’re in for a big surprise,” said Clint.
“What’s that mean?” she asked.
“You be the judge.”
Shirley was puzzled and caught up with Thorton and followed him into the office.
“Honey”, said Thorton. “Did I tell you, you’re the best looking piece of poontang I ever did see?”
Shirley closed the door behind them.
Clint went back to the bar and poured himself a big drink. Marshall came in from the kitchen.
“The last hooker he had here he wouldn’t pay. So she cleaned the steaks out of the deep freeze before she left,” said Marshall.
“You mean he does this all the time?”
“Yeah, but never with Marge in the house.”
The sound of a latchkey in the front door was heard followed by Marge’s entrance. She was dressed in a light green silk Pucci top with bright fuchsia slacks. Her white blonde hair was done up in a smart do. “Why Clint, I didn’t know you’d be here. Will you stay for dinner? I picked up some divine lobsters at Jurgensen’s. Where’s Thorton?” she asked, as she glanced into the living room for him.
“He’s around, isn’t he, Marshall?” asked Clint uncomfortably.
“Look!” She put her hand forward to show off a large diamond ring.
“Thorton bought me this for my birthday. The girls at Saks just died when they saw it.”
“I don’t blame them, its a queen’s ransom,” said Clint.
“I wanted to go on this cruise to New Zealand, but Thorton thought it was too expensive; I’m sure this ring cost a lot more. Anyway, we’re going to Havana, have you heard?”
“I’m going too,” said Clint.
“How divine! We’ll have so much fun. Fix me a drink. I’ll tell Maisie you’ll be staying for dinner,” said Marge as she left the bar and went into Thorton’s room on her way to the kitchen.
Clint poured himself another strong drink.
A few minutes later Marge was back. She picked up her drink. She stared at Clint and then Marshall suspiciously.
“I went by the office. The door is locked. I smell whore!”
Clint and Marshall exchanged looks.
“I’ve got to go.” Marshall said getting up to leave.
“You’re staying right here,” said Marge. “Thorton has a whore here, doesn’t he?”
Clint and Marshall said nothing.
“I knew it. That dirty old man has brought a whore into my house.
That horrible creature.” She moved fast and left the room for the office.
Clint and Marshall could hear her pounding on the door with her fists.
Clint worried she might hurt herself or have a heart attack.
“I know you’re in there you dirty old man,” she yelled. “Let me tell you. You’re going to stay there. I’m going to sit in front of this door. I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll stay here all night if I have to. There’s no bathroom in there and no windows. You’re going to start stinking soon. How’s that going to go over with your whore, you old bastard?”
Marge came away from the door exhausted. She went to the terrace and picked up a chair and brought it to the d
oor and planted it. Clint joined her. Marshall had disappeared.
“The years I have put up with that old sonofabitch. All the horrible things he’s done to me. I saved his life many a time. I spent years watching out for him. Saw to it that he had proper care when he’d go on a drunk. I kept him alive through it all. I’m so mad I could spit.” She sat in the wrought-iron chair.
Clint handed her a fresh drink. “Marge, this incident could work out for you”.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“You’ve never had Thorton in a more compromising position.”
“Yes,” she said interested.
“You can take that cruise to New Zealand. See your sea-captain friend. Who knows, you might just stay.”
“What would I do for money? Thorton had me sign a quitclaim deed on all his property. I’m screwed.”
“Here’s your opportunity. Get a blank check. Write it for a hundred thousand dollars, paid to you. Push it under the door for his signature.
If he signs, you’ll let him out.”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” She asked excitedly.
“You’re too upset.”
“Do you think he’ll do it?”
“Does he have a choice?”
Marge went into the house and returned with a check and a pen. She wrote out the amount and pushed the check under the door.
“Thorton, you dirty old man, the only way you and your whore are getting out is to sign that check. This will teach you, you old bastard, to honor my home.” Marge started to settle down with her fresh drink.
“You know, I was the best-looking girl in town. Used to walk around with a walking stick. Every one thought I was eccentric. Thorton was the richest boy in town and was crazy about me. We used to have a lot of fun, did a lot of drinking though; you could say we still do. I was nineteen when I married him. He was twenty. He had this red Buick convertible. Now that I think back, I married him for his car.”
“Look, Marge, the check.” The check had been pushed back from under the door.
“Is it signed?” she asked. Clint picked it up.
“Yep,” he said. Marge got up from her chair and went to the door.
“Thorton you old fool. I’m going in and get ready for dinner. You get that whore out of here, or this time I really am leaving for good.”
Clint and Marge left for the main house. Marge stormed to her bedroom and Clint went to the phone to call a cab for Shirley.
A cab drove under the portico. Clint was outside waiting. Marge went to the kitchen checking on dinner when Shirley ran by the window. Marge saw her and raced to the front door to accost her. Snarling she said, “Does your mother know you’re a whore? How could you do it with … with … that dirty old man?” Suddenly Marge became aware of Thorton who stood at the front door looking ridiculous in his baggy shorts.
“What do you say to yourself when you look in the mirror?” asked Marge of the girl.
“Have you looked in the mirror yourself lately, lady?” said Shirley as she got into the back seat.
The cab and drove off just in time, thought Clint.
Marge walked back to the house and took a swing at Thorton with her fist. “You, you … dirty old man.” Thorton took a step backward to miss Marge’s fist and fell to the floor. Marge lost her balance and fell in the opposite direction. Clint went to help Marge to her feet. At first he thought she was crying, but realized she was laughing, hysterically.
Thorton started to laugh too, and so did Clint.
Maisie walked in and in her cheery voice said, “Dinner is served.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Dorothy felt it was about time to find a husband. She dated the cream of Hollywood’s eligible. Producers, directors, a major star or two, playing the field. At the same time Nathan Wise had become stronger in her life. She leaned on him for strength and his good advice. Nathan’s personality had to control, so he introduced her to Morris Marsh, a man he did business with from the east coast.
Morry was attractive, in his late thirties. He wore tailored clothes and worked out in his gym at a newly acquired Beverly Hills house.
Morry had gotten divorced from his childhood sweetheart and moved to California to start a new life and to play. He liked the sun and arranged his business meetings around his pool, where he would sit with a silver sun reflector tilted in his face. He fell hard for Dorothy, his first movie star. Her image on his arm around town gave him the look he needed for his ego.
After their first date, he had a white Rolls Royce convertible delivered to her garage. After getting used to driving the new car, Dorothy wondered when she would get the California ownership registration in her name. The document never arrived. She could have fallen for him, but she discovered he was cheap and a bull shitter; the car was leased.
She realized why Nathan had introduced her to Morry; it had to be one of his control games he liked to play on her.
Nathan had set up a corporation to build and to buy hotels and casinos in Las Vegas. He brought in Morris Marsh to front for him and his syndicate. The gaming commission checked Morry’s past with a sieve.
Morry’s background was on the fringes. He had done business with members of the underworld, buying some of their interests and turning them into moneymakers.
Nathan arranged for Morry to front the points in the casinos for Meyer Lansky and his group. Lansky could not be listed as a casino owner because the Nevada law stated you could not own points in a casino if you owned one in Havana.
Dorothy, through Nathan, was able to acquire a block of stock in the corporation and a hidden half-point in the casino at a low price.
The corporation had acquired eleven acres on the Strip in Las Vegas. The action had moved out in that direction since the Flamingo started the trend. Nathan and his group started building the El Dorado, the world’s largest hotel and casino. The hotel consisted of eight hundred rooms plus fifty high rollers’ suites. Never had so many fine restaurants been in one hotel: a steak house, French gourmet, Oriental, and Italian all under one roof. The casino, the world’s largest, was to be state of the art with a showroom to seat twelve hundred guests. Danny Kaye had been booked to open the Desert High Room. A French nude revue had been booked to open the lounge. The Paris act had never been seen before in the United States. The publicity hype was extraordinary; everyone looked forward to the opening.
With the success of “The Battered Spouse”, Clint had arranged a four-year, million-dollar movie contract for Dorothy with one of the major studios. She would have to make two pictures per year for the studio and could be loaned out to other studios. Dorothy felt secure enough to go house hunting. She found a small, Spanish-style house in the hills overlooking Beverly Hills. She bought it for a hundred thousand. Nathan arranged a large loan with a small interest rate with one of his pension funds. The first thing she did was fill the pantry with canned goods because of her actress insecurities. She had been collecting cookbooks and had a huge collection from every master chef around the world. She could sit and talk recipes with any expert with authority, but she couldn’t cook. But, with her ego she thought she was a gourmet.
After one of her elaborate dinners, attended by nervous guests too polite to say the chicken was raw, only Nathan said, “I can’t eat this shit.” This brought tears to Dorothy’s face and she went to her bedroom to cry. She’d hoped to get an elaborate present from Nathan when he came by again, for her tears.
Dorothy started a new movie at the studio and had finished a scene when she was called to the phone. The assistant told her, her agent was calling. Dorothy picked it up.
“Something has come up. I have to see you.”
“Why can’t you tell me now?”
“I’d rather not.”
“Come to dinner tonight. You haven’t seen my new house.”
“What time?”
“About 8:00. I’ll prepare a dish you’ll die for.”
“I hope not,” he laughed. “See you at 8:00.�
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Clint stopped by David Jones, the florist, on the way and picked up some flowers. He stood at her front door at eight sharp. Dorothy’s maid let him in. Dorothy’s decorating was dark and heavy, he thought. Oak paneling, no feeling of individuality, no pictures of herself, which was odd to him. Her English furniture was covered in dark fabrics. The light outside shined bright, but it didn’t find its way into the house. It looked like a man’s house instead of a glamorous movie star’s, but he knew Dorothy must have a reason. Dorothy came into the room. “How’s the Million Dollar Baby?” he said giving her a kiss on the cheek. She wore a black turtleneck sweater and black slacks. Clint thought back to when he had seen her in the same outfit. The night she turned him into a burglar, but he thought better than to bring it up.
“I love your expression, the Million Dollar Baby. Money has become important to me now. It must be that I know what I can buy with it. What are you drinking?”
“Scotch and soda.”
She poured him a drink. She poured herself some soda water.
“What’s so important you have to see me in person?”
“You got troubles. Confidential Magazine has dug up your time in jail. They’re going to publish it in their next issue.”
“I knew this would happen. It’s public record.”
“You seem calm about it.”
“Well, what do you suggest I do? The timing couldn’t be worse.
Could it? Confidential is a piece of shit.”
“True, but everyone reads it.”
“Nathan will handle it. He has juice on those sleaze bags. There seems to be nobody, even Washington, who will stand up to him, which makes him exciting. Wouldn’t you say?” Clint nodded.
“I’m seeing him tomorrow. He’ll fix it, he always does. He’s paranoid about everybody, even me. I think it’s time for you to meet him.
He could be a big help to you. He finances movies. You could become a producer with him behind you.”
“Thanks. You’re always thinking of me.”
“Why not? Hollywood’s an animal’s world. We need to stick together to survive. I hear you’re going to Havana.”
Confessions of a Hollywood Agent Page 9
