Part 17 (1/2)

The two men looked at each other over clasped hands. Peter saw a small man, swarthy from the sun, a thin black stogie held firmly between strong white teeth.

”Al's going to let us make the picture out at his place,” Johnny explained.

Peter smiled. ”I'm sure glad to know you, Mr. Santos.”

Al took the stogie from his mouth and waved it at Peter.

”Al's the name. n.o.body calls me mister.”

Peter's smile grew broader. This was the kind of man he felt most at home with. Plain, regular, unpretentious. ”Right, Al,” he said, taking a cigar from his pocket. ”I can't tell you how much I appreciate your letting us make the picture at your studio.”

Johnny interrupted. ”Who said he's got a studio?”

Peter almost dropped the lighted match he was holding to his cigar. ”He hasn't got a studio?”

”No,” Johnny answered.

Peter was bewildered. ”So where then are we going to make the picture?”

”On his property,” Johnny answered. ”He has the s.p.a.ce. Just last winter Griffith shot a picture out his way and he says it's perfect for moving pictures.”

Peter looked at Johnny in dismay. ”That picture that Griffith made last year was made in California. We haven't the money to get out there.”

Johnny grinned. ”We have now. Al's lending us the dough.”

Peter turned to Al; his face was serious. ”I appreciate your kindness, Al,” he said slowly, ”but you must know that we haven't any security to offer.”

For a moment Al studied the man in front of him. Having heard from Joe and then from Johnny just how serious the situation was for Peter, he could understand what effort was required for Peter to tell him what he did. Johnny was right. This Kessler was a square shooter. He smiled slowly. ”I've got all the security I need, Peter. Many years I have known Johnny. Since he was a littla boy. Twice now he'sa leave me to work for you. For Johnny to do this, I figure that the man he's work for is alla right. Now from the way you talk I know.”

”You're the man that owned the carnival?” Peter began to understand.

”I used to own the carnival,” Al answered. ”Now, I'ma retired.” He turned to Johnny. ”Look, Johnny, you get things settled with Peter here. I'm gonna back to the hotel and get some sleep. I'm not young like you fellas any more.” He had been up all night talking to Johnny and now he was tired; weariness began to show in his face.

”All right, Al,” Johnny replied. ”We'll get things squared away and call you.”

Al shook hands with Peter. ”I'ma glad to meet you, Peter. Now don't you worry about a thing. Everythinga will be alla right.”

Peter looked at him gratefully. ”Thanks to you it will be,” he said. ”I don't know what we would have done-”

Al didn't let him finish. ”Don't thanka me, Peter. I spend a longa time in show business. To tell the truth, I didn't want to retire, but my brother, Luigi, he insist. 'Al,' he say, 'you gotta enough money. Now stoppa work and come out here and enjoy your life. We make a good wine just like in Italy, we gotta oranges and people like at home. Come outta here and live.' I think it over. He's a right. I'ma getting old. No use to work like horse no more, so I decide to do what Luigi say. But alla time I think a man shoulda have something to do. Something he'sa interest in, to keep busy. This a good thing. I know show business. With the carnival I go all over the country and see the people going to the movies. Every day it'sa getting bigger. When Johnny talks to me, I say to myself; 'It's a good thing.' So I make up my mind.”

Peter smiled at him. He understood all the man had said; he saw the way Al had looked at Johnny as he spoke. His words did not tell Peter half as much as that glance had; they were just the framework upon which Santos hung the real reason for doing what he did.

Al smiled back at him, he could see that Peter understood, and without saying a word to each other each man was drawn closer to the other because of a common bond they had for Johnny. Al turned and left the office.

The three of them looked at each other after he had gone. Joe went over to Peter and grabbed him by the arm. ”What a break!” he exclaimed.

”California,” Peter said dazedly. The import was just beginning to dawn on him. ”Why, that's three thousand miles away.”

”Three thousand or twenty thousand,” Johnny laughed, ”what's the difference? We can't make it here.”

”But Esther and the kids,” Peter said, ”I can't leave them here.”

”Who said we're leaving them here?” Johnny answered. ”We'll take them with us.”

”That's good,” Peter said, beginning to smile. Suddenly his expression turned to dismay, his face grew long and worried.

”Now what's the matter?” Johnny asked.

”I was just thinking,” Peter replied, ”the danger-”

Johnny was bewildered. He looked askance at Joe. ”Danger? What danger?”

Peter's voice grew serious. ”The Indians.”

Joe looked at Johnny and they burst into laughter. The tears began to run down Joe's cheeks, he held his hands to his sides. ”The Indians, he says,” he managed to gasp.

Peter looked at them as if they were crazy. ”What's so funny?”

They went off into another gale of laughter.

Arrangements were made for the cameras and equipment to be packed immediately. It would take almost a week for everything to be made ready for s.h.i.+pment.

Later that afternoon, after the excitement had subsided, Johnny went over to Sam Sharpe's office. With him he had taken the check Sharpe had sent them in the morning mail. He was going to return it and insist that Craig fulfill his share of the bargain.

Jane saw him come into the office. ”If it ain't the vice-president himself!” she wisecracked. ”How's the picture business?”

He stood in front of her desk. There was a hurt look in his eyes. He didn't speak.

She looked up at him. The light from the ceiling lamp shone brightly on him and for the first time she saw how he looked. She hadn't seen him since that night he had taken her for a ride in the park and she had felt hurt. But now when she saw him, saw how thin he had become, the newly formed lines etched into his face around his eyes and mouth, she was suddenly contrite. Now all the things that Sam had told her suddenly became real.

Impulsively she reached out and took his hand. Her voice was low. ”I'm sorry, Johnny, I didn't want to be mean.”

He held her hand. ”It was my fault, Jane. I should have known better.”

”It was mine as much as yours, Johnny. We just want different things. Now that we know, we can forget it.”

He smiled at her. ”It's amazing,” she thought, ”how bright and young he looks when he smiles.”

”You're okay, Jane,” he said.

She smiled back at him. ”You too, Johnny.” Her tone became businesslike. ”You wanted to see Sam?”

He nodded.