“The usual. I wouldn’t be anything if it weren’t for him. I owe all my success to him. If I leave him now, he’ll ruin my career. He treats me like a possession.”
“What a shit!” Tom exclaimed. “That asshole isn’t responsible for your talent or your beauty. He just wants to own it.”
“You know, Tom, that’s exactly what I think.” Hypatia’s eyes filled with tears.
Tom embraced her, held her close, and whispered in her ear, “I’ll help you get out of this. And I’ll get you out of it now.”
“Oh Tom, I don’t want to cause another scene in public. Let me work this out myself.”
Suddenly, a loud and obviously intoxicated voice rasped at them.
“What do we have here—a rehearsal session for From Here to Eternity?”
It was Reynolds, slurring his words and staggering.
“Derek, this is Tom Butler, an old friend of mine from California.”
“Well, Mr. Butler, I’m also an old friend of hers from California. So where do you fit into the picture?”
“Derek, it’s Commander Butler,” Hypatia said. “Tom is the Commanding Officer of a Destroyer at Pearl Harbor.”
“Tora, Tora, Tora, Commander. Let’s go, honey, you’re going inside now.” Reynolds grabbed Hypatia’s arm and pulled her away from Tom. “I’ve had enough of this tropical paradise shit and these stupid shirts and Aloha or whatever they call it.”
Tom saw Hypatia wince. He also saw the marks that Reynolds’ grip left on her arm.
“Let go of her, asshole,” he said.
“What did you say?” Reynolds asked, raising his voice.
“I told you to take your hand off her or I’m going to stick it so far up your ass you’ll need an oral surgeon to cut your fingernails.”
Reynolds released Hypatia’s arm and looked at her with disbelief. “You know this is going to come back on you. I’ll ruin you and your sister. You’ll end up a ‘has been’ like that Lane broad and her pathetic husband. Go over and talk to them and see how they like living in the middle of the Pacific on a banker’s salary. As for you, Mr. Boy Scout, I wouldn’t count on another promotion. I know the President. And he appointed the Secretary of Defense. And I don’t think either of them would promote an officer who threatened one of their most generous political contributors.”
Reynolds lurched toward the bar where he was immediately surrounded by guests who had not yet met the great man.
“Tom, you shouldn’t have done that. He’ll get you. He’s a powerful man.”
“I’m not worried. The guy’s an asshole, and everybody knows it. He won’t dare go after me. Besides, I’m more concerned about you. And I think I just got you on the road to solving your problem.”
“I don’t know, Tom. I’m worried. He’s a volatile man.”
“I can see that,” Tom said. “But you had to stand up to him sometime and he gave me the perfect opportunity to help you out. I had to do it.”
“I’m actually glad you did,” Hypatia said, starting to laugh. Where did you get that line about the oral surgeon?”
“I was inspired,” Tom said, as he put his arm around her, and looked out over the seawall to the Pacific.
“We’ve got to spend more time together. But, for the moment, let’s talk about how we first met at the Beach and Tennis Club in San Diego.”
“You would remember that one,” Hypatia said with a throaty laugh.
“That’s because I had to get rid of another guy that time too,” Tom said.
“Yes, but he was an old boyfriend I grew up with.”
“They’re the best kind to get rid of.”
“You’re right,” Hypatia said, with a knowing smile. “But I’m still worried about you. Derek knows lots of politicians because he gives them so much money.”
“Don’t worry a bit,” Tom said. “The Secretary of Defense and I are friends. I served as his Naval Aide when he first worked in the Pentagon as an Under Secretary of Defense in the last Administration. He knows a bad guy when he sees one.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Georgia Grant looked at Katherine Sullivan and exclaimed, “Katherine, look over at the bar! Isn’t that someone famous talking to Kulani?”
Katherine glanced at the bar and saw a young man in his mid-to late twenties talking to the Club’s senior bartender.
“I don’t think he’s famous but I think I’ve seen his picture somewhere. Maybe he’s one of the actors,” Katherine said.
“That’s it,” Georgia exclaimed. “His picture was in People magazine not too long ago. He’s somebody’s boy toy in Hollywood. I think it’s Barbara Franklin.”
“You’re right,” Katherine said. “I remember seeing it. I probably still have it at home. But she’s pretty old for him. I’ll bet she’s fifty.”
“I’m going to confirm it,” Georgia announced as she started toward the bar where the young man was still talking to Kulani.
“Well, hello, I’m Georgia Grant. My husband is President of the Club, and we’re your hosts this evening,” she said to the young man while also waving to Kulani behind the bar.
“Good evening, Mrs. Grant,” he responded with a confident air. “My name is Lance Forbes. I’m a member of the cast and I’m pleased to meet you.”
“I’m an actress myself,” Georgia said with a smile, “and I’m thrilled that Derek Reynolds is shooting part of his movie here on Oahu.”
“Do you know Derek?” Lance asked.
“No. I just met him this evening but I’ve admired his movies over the years.”
“So have I,” Lance said. “He’s got a real eye for talent. He can spot potential stars before anyone else and he exploits their abilities better and faster than any producer I know. That’s why I tried out for a part in this movie.”
“You want to be discovered — a commendable, if difficult, goal,” Georgia said with a smile that spoke eloquently of her own experience.
“Yes, but with Derek, it can happen. He knows talent and he’s not afraid to cast an unknown in one of his movies.” Lance spoke in a condescending tone, then turned away and ordered another drink from the bartender.
“Have I seen you in anything else?” Georgia asked.
“No, but you will soon, and in bigger roles.”
“Shall I get your autograph now?”
“No. There will be plenty of time for that later.”
“Well, I hope this is your moment, Lance,” Georgia said graciously. “I’m afraid I have some hostess obligations to fulfill, so I will thank you now for joining us this evening.”
“You’re quite welcome, Mrs. Grant,” Lance said in a slightly dismissive tone.
Georgia returned to Katherine who was talking to another member of the cast.
“Georgia, this is Martha Sutherland. We were just talking about the dresses she wears in her role as a World War II-era socialite here in Honolulu.”
“Why then, you must be playing my mother,” Georgia said.
“Really,” said Martha. “Do you have any photographs of your mother in evening gowns from that period?”
“I certainly do and I’d love to show them to you.”
“I’m going to drop by Katherine’s shop tomorrow morning with Hypatia,” Martha said. “Could we meet there, say at 10:30?”
“Wonderful,” Georgia said. “I’ll bring my photo album and some Kona coffee. And I’ll tell you all about Mother. She was the star of Honolulu’s social scene in her day.”
“I’m not a bit surprised,” Martha said. “I can’t wait! I’m going home right now to get the first decent night’s sleep since we started shooting. The schedule here has us on the set by seven each morning, and it will be such a luxury to sleep in until eight tomorrow.”
As Martha walked away, Katherine turned to Georgia and whispered, “Were we right? Is he Barbara Franklin’s boy toy?”
“I’m sure he is, although I didn’t ask and he didn’t mention her name.”
“I’ll look through som
e old People magazines I have at home. Maybe he’s in there.”
“He kept calling me Mrs. Grant.”
“Well, my dear, he obviously likes older women,” Katherine said. “How old is Barbara Franklin?”
“She’s at least 55,” said Georgia. “I don’t like this ‘Mrs. Grant’ business. I’m not at that stage, am I?”
“Hardly, Georgia. I’m sure he was more than thrilled to talk to you. What man wouldn’t be?”
“Apparently not Mr. Forbes.”
“Enough about him. Let’s go find Mr. Sullivan and Mr. Grant,” Katherine said, taking her arm.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Gordon and Jack were standing at the edge of the Club’s dining room, near the Lanai, and Gordon was chewing on the stick of sugar cane that served swizzle duty in his Mai Tai.
Watching Gordon immerse the stick in his drink, Jack asked, “How long do you have to live in Hawaii before these things look and taste less like wood and more like sugar?”
“This, my good man,” Gordon responded, lifting the stick clear of his Mai Tai, “is an acquired taste.”
Frowning, Jack replied, “As far as I can tell, the only taste that stick has acquired is wood. I don’t know why bartenders even bother putting them in Mai Tai’s. They don’t affect the taste. In fact, they’re misleading. They look sweet but they’re not.”
“You’ve missed the point entirely,” Gordon said. “Mai Tai’s are made with different kinds of rum. And where does rum come from? Sugar Cane. So this humble wooden-like stick reminds us of the genesis of the exotic pleasure and sense of peace that Mai Tai’s bestow on all who consume them, particularly if they were made by Kulani here at the premier club in the Pacific.”
“I see,” Jack said. “Personally, I stand with McNeil on this one. I mean if you’re going to chew on something while you drink a Mai Tai, it might as well be a good cigar.”
“I don’t completely disagree with you,” Gordon said, “although I hate to see you agree with someone I have so badly vanquished on the golf course. If it got out that you agreed with Dave, it could affect your standing at the Club.”
“Where have you two been all night?” Georgia asked as she and Katherine approached the two men.
“Well, we know where the two of you have been,” Gordon responded. “Is there any member of the cast you two haven’t met tonight?”
“I don’t think so. Do you, Katherine?”
“I believe we’ve covered them all,” Katherine said in mock seriousness.
“And not only have we met them, we’ve had very interesting conversations that will continue tomorrow morning at Katherine’s shop over that wonderful Kona coffee Jack brought us from his plantation last week,” Georgia said.
“Yes. Hypatia and Jennifer Adams and Martha Sutherland are coming by the shop tomorrow morning to see some of my things and to see pictures of Georgia’s mother,” Katherine said.
“Well, that’s great,” Jack said. “Maybe one of your dresses will find its way into this movie.”
“You never know,” Katherine said.
“By the way, Jack, that last batch of Kona coffee you gave us is superb,” Gordon said. “I brew it in my office, and the mere aroma of that stuff infuses my staff with the desire to give me spontaneous status reports over coffee.”
“Wonderful! I’m going over to the Big Island in the morning and I’ll bring some more back,” Jack said.
At that moment, the Hawaiian music stopped, and Noa Watson asked for everyone’s attention. Those who were out by the seawall and on the Club’s Lanai moved into the dining room.
“Thank you all for joining us this evening here at the Diamond Head Canoe Club,” Noa said in his mellifluous Hawaiian tones. “We are so happy to have so many friends from all walks of life on this beautiful island, from our political leaders to our business community to our good friends from the Navy to our artists. We are honored that Hollywood’s finest actors, actresses, directors, and producers chose our Club for their cast party, and we wish you the best of luck with this movie and much Aloha.”
Everyone applauded, and then Noa announced, “It is my honor to present the man who brought this production to Hawaii, Derek Reynolds. May I ask all of you to raise your glasses in a toast to the good fortune and health of our honored guest.”
Reynolds moved haltingly toward Noa in a barely controlled lurch and took the microphone from him.
“I didn’t want to make this movie in Hawaii. I’m from California, and we build sets in our studios there that rival any place on earth. And we can generally do it cheaper, too. But my staff came out here, took a look at what you had to offer, and told me I’d be out of my mind not to film most of this movie here on Oahu. So I decided to give it a try.”
As Reynolds paused, Jack leaned over to Katherine and whispered, “Quite an eloquent fellow.”
“And considerate too,” Katherine whispered, “particularly since most of Honolulu’s political and business leaders are here.”
“But I’m not going to pay for one damn night of hotel rooms that I don’t have to, and I’m going to keep this movie on schedule and on budget. It looks to me as if this cast is having a lot more fun out here than they would back in L.A., and that usually means a longer shooting schedule. But not under my rules! As soon as this rewrite is complete, back on the set at seven sharp. That’s my message to the cast. I hope the rest of you didn’t mind that little bit of motivational oratory.”
As Reynolds paused again, Gordon leaned over to Jack and said, “I think old Derek is blasted.”
“Either that or he’s got a lousy personality,” Jack whispered back.
“Or both,” Georgia said, loud enough for those around to hear.
“Mr. Watson,” Reynolds resumed, “my thanks to you and your Club for hosting our cast party. Send the bill to the director. It’ll come out of his share of the profits.” He pointed at Mark Sandish.
Tom Butler glanced at Hypatia, who looked mortified, and observed, “This is going downhill fast.”
Jennifer, who was standing at the edge of the dining room with her sister and Tom, leaned over to Tom and said, “See what an asshole he is.”
By now, everyone had quietly concluded that Derek had had too many Mai Tai’s, but he didn’t stop.
“Mr. Mayor, we might have the premiere here, if the City throws us a big enough party. And maybe the Admiral will give us one of his ships for the evening.” Derek was now slurring his words and having trouble maintaining his balance.
“You can probably get the money out of the bankers here tonight, Mr. Mayor. I’m sure they’d be happy to finance the premiere of one of my movies.” Reynolds, now swaying back and forth, was looking directly at George Lane.
Then he turned and looked at Hypatia, Jennifer and Tom. His eyes narrowed and his face was flushed. He started to speak but suddenly stopped with a sharp intake of breath and fell to the floor, his legs folding underneath him.
The crowd gasped as Noa cleared an area around the crumpled figure. Dave McNeil ran over and examined him closely, putting his hand on Derek’s wrist to feel his pulse. It was weak.
Dave yelled to Kulani who was behind the bar and told him to call an ambulance. Then, with Noa assisting, Dave began to administer CPR. They were still at it ten minutes later when the ambulance arrived and the emergency medical technicians placed Derek on oxygen and took him out of the Club on a gurney.
Dave looked at Noa and didn’t have to say what he was thinking. Noa responded to the look in Dave’s eyes and said, quietly, “He’s not going to make it.”
Gordon Grant had rushed to their side and heard Noa’s diagnosis.
“What do you think it was, Dave, a heart attack?” Gordon asked.
“I guess so. He looked drunk to me, and I could smell rum on his breath. Do you have any idea how many Mai Tai’s he had?” Dave inquired.
“No. I’ll ask Kulani and see if he knows.”
Noa got to his feet and again asked for everyone’s
attention. Then, in his comforting voice, he announced, “Ladies and Gentlemen, it appears that Mr. Reynolds may have had a heart attack. As soon as we know his condition, we’ll let you know. He’s on his way to The Queen’s Medical Center now.”
The party was over. Hypatia rushed over to Noa and asked for directions to the hospital. Tom Butler said he would drive her there. Jennifer remained on the edge of the dining room.
The Grant’s and Sullivan’s stayed behind while the Club emptied out. As President of the Club, Gordon was concerned that Reynolds might have eaten something that made him sick.
“Jack, you’re a lawyer. Do you think I should call the Club’s lawyer tonight?”
“Yes, I do, Gordon. Reynolds is a high profile guy, and you can be sure that his lawyers will be calling you tomorrow morning, if not sooner.”
“Thanks. I’ll get on that right away. Would you excuse me?” Gordon gathered Noa and Georgia and walked toward the Club’s office.
“Well, Katherine, what an evening.”
“I’m drained, Jack. Let’s go home.”
They drove back to the Royal Hawaiian and walked silently, arm in arm, to the elevator. As they waited there, Jack hugged Katherine and she held him tight.
It was nearly eleven by the time they entered their apartment. The Maine Coon was curled up, almost in a circle, on one of their living room chairs. He stirred as they walked in, stood up and yawned, let out a mild chirp, then resumed his lounging position on the chair. Katherine immediately scooped Hugo up and kissed his head. Hugo responded by licking her nose.
“I think I’ll turn on the news to see if they cover it,” Jack said.
“It’s too late, don’t you think?”
“Nothing is too late for TV news these days, especially when Hollywood is involved.”
Jack turned on the local news and, sure enough, there was a short segment that showed the front entrance to the Diamond Head Canoe Club. It reported that Derek Reynolds, the Hollywood producer, had suffered a heart attack and was at The Queen’s Medical Center in critical condition.
Jack turned to Katherine, who was flipping through old magazines, and said “I think this guy’s in trouble.”
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