Part 20 (2/2)

”How should I know?” he asked, his voice still shaking.

”Is Al there?” I asked. ”If he is, ask him.”

I heard Peter turn away from the phone. A few seconds later his voice came on again. ”Al says about twenty-five dollars an acre.”

I could feel the blood running into my face. I let out a sigh. I had guessed right. ”Buy a thousand acres,” I told him. ”That'll cost us about twenty-five thousand dollars. I just sold six hundred acres at a hundred bucks apiece and we'll net thirty-five thousand on the works and have enough dough left over to build a studio with.”

There was a moment of silence at the other end of the wire, then Peter's voice came on again. There was a peculiar tone in it that I didn't quite recognize; if I hadn't known him better, I would have called it awe.

”Johnny,” he said slowly, ”you're a gonif. But a smart one.”

I turned back from the window, sat down behind my desk, and finished my drink. That was a long time ago, but somehow it seemed like only yesterday. Hollywood was built on a swindle and it never changed. It lived on a swindle today, only the swindlers of yesterday were beginning to meet their masters. The swindlers of today were taking them-not as we had in the old days, out of necessity, but because of greed. Today's swindlers not only practiced on one another, but the whole world was their feeding-place.

My eyes were tired. The lids felt hot and heavy. I thought I would shut them for a little while to rest them.

The dull sound of voices kept tugging at my ears. I turned my head to shut them out, but they persisted. I sat back in my chair and opened my eyes and rubbed them. My body ached, my back was stiff from the uncomfortable position in which I had fallen asleep. I stretched and looked around the office. My gaze fell on the clock on the desk and I snapped up with a start. It was three thirty in the afternoon. I had been sleeping almost all day.

I got out of my chair and went into the little room next to my office. I turned on the cold water and splashed it over my face. Its chill woke me up thoroughly. I took a towel from the rack and dried my face in it. I looked in the mirror. I needed a shave.

I turned and started out of the little room to go to the barber shop when Gordon's voice came through the wall.

”I'm sorry, Larry,” it was saying, ”but I don't see how I can agree to that. After all, my agreement with Johnny was that I was in charge of all production. Dividing it up in the manner you suggest will only lead to duplication of work and further unnecessary confusion.”

That put an end to my shave. Something was going on in Gordon's office that I should know about. I put my hand on the door and opened it. Gordon was seated behind his desk, his face flushed and angry. Opposite him Ronsen and Dave Roth were seated. Ronsen's face was as calm and imperturbable as usual, but Dave looked like the cat that had just got away with the canary.

I stepped into the room. Their faces turned toward me with varying expressions written on them. Gordon's showed relief, Rosen's annoyance, Roth's fear. I smiled. ”What's the matter with you guys?” I asked. ”Can't you let a feller sleep?”

They didn't answer. I walked over to Gordon and held out my hand. ”Hi ya, boy, good to see you.”

He played along with me. No sign of our having met last night appeared in his voice. He took my hand. ”What are you doing out here?” he asked. ”I thought you were still in New York.”

”I got here last night,” I answered. ”I came out to see Peter.” I turned to Ronsen. ”I didn't expect you out here, Larry.”

He looked at me searchingly a minute. If he was trying to find out what I knew, he didn't succeed. My face was as bland as his. ”Something turned up after you left, and as you weren't there, I thought I'd fly out here and handle it for you.”

I let interest show on my face. ”Yeah? What was it?”

”We got a call from Stanley Farber,” he replied. I could see that even his calm had been shaken by my unexpected appearance; he seemed to fumble a little for words. ”He made us the proposition that we put Dave here in charge of our top pictures. In return for that he would see to it that we played off in all the Westco theaters and in addition loan us a million dollars.”

For the first time since I walked into the office I looked at Dave Roth. But I spoke to Ronsen. ”I know Stanley,” I said. ”He must want something else from us for a million bucks besides putting his protege in charge of production.”

I didn't take my eyes off Dave's face while Ronsen answered: ”Well, naturally we'd have to give him stock as security. You don't expect anybody to advance us that much money without some sort of security.”

I nodded my head slowly. Dave's face had grown paler under my gaze. Ronsen's voice cut in eagerly; he couldn't keep the tension from showing in it. ”You mean you think it's a good idea?” he asked.

Slowly I turned my head back to look at him. His eyes were burning brightly and fiercely behind his bifocals. More than ever he reminded me of a big, moon-faced tiger waiting to pounce on its prey. ”I didn't say I thought it was a good idea,” I said, my eyes meeting his. ”But I'll think about it. A million bucks is a lot of cabbage.”

Ronsen was pressing now; I could see he wanted me to agree with him. ”That's it, Johnny,” he said eagerly, ”Farber wants an immediate answer. His offer isn't good forever.”

”But once we accept it, we're hooked,” I said dryly. ”I know Stanley, as I said, and it won't be anything we can get out of easily if it doesn't work out. Dave here is a bright boy. I know he can run theaters. But he never made a picture in his life and, with all my respect for him, what do we do if he turns out bad? I've seen it happen to others; it could happen to him.”

I turned to Roth. His face had gone white. I smiled at him rea.s.suringly. ”No offense meant, kid,” I said easily, ”but this is a practical business and it takes a little experience to find out just how a thing is going to work out before you do it. I know Larry means well, but I'll have to think about it first. Supposing we talk some more about it tomorrow.”

With those words I succeeded in impressing Ronsen with my disregard for his judgment, Dave with my opinion of his inexperience, and closed the discussion.

Out of the corner of my eyes I could see the white anger on Larry's face, but by the time I turned to him he had it under control. I smiled at him. ”If you have a few minutes, Larry,” I said, ”I'd like to talk to you after I get a shave.”

His strangely deep voice was back to normal. ”Sure thing, Johnny,” he said. ”Give me a buzz when you get back.”

I walked to the door. At the door I turned and looked back at them. They were all facing me now. Gordon, who sat behind the others, gave me the wink. I smiled at them. ”See you later,” I said, shutting the door behind me.

Gordon was waiting for me when I got back from the barber. I felt good. It's wonderful what a shave and a hot towel can do for you. I grinned at him.

”What'sa matter, boy?” I said. ”You don't look so good.”

He let out a string of curses.

I smiled at him easily. ”I gather you don't think much of our eminent chairman of the board.”

Gordon's face turned red. ”Why in h.e.l.l can't he confine himself to presiding over the lousy board meetings and keep his G.o.d-d.a.m.n long nose out of the studio?” he roared. ”He's only s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up the works.”

I walked over to my chair and sat down behind the desk. I looked at him. ”Now, take it easy, boy.” I reached for a cigarette and lit it slowly. ”You gotta remember that he don't know nothin' about the picture business. You know what he is. A guy with dough who got greedy when he saw there was a fast buck to be made in pictures. When he found out that the racket wasn't all peaches and cream like he thought, he got a little nervous and now he's scratchin' around looking for something that will either guarantee his dough back or give him an out.”

When he saw how calmly I was sitting there, he simmered down a little. He watched me closely for a moment. ”You got an angle?”

”Sure.” I smiled rea.s.suringly. ”I got an angle. I'm gonna sit tight and let him beat his brains out. When he gets tired of that he'll come back to papa.”

He looked skeptical. ”He's a stubborn b.a.s.t.a.r.d,” he said. ”What if he insists on giving Farber an in?”

I didn't answer him for a second. If Ronsen insisted on that, I couldn't stop him and then I was through. Maybe it would be a good thing. I'd spent thirty years here and I had enough dough not to worry no matter what happened. Maybe it would be nice just to sit back and forget about everything. But it wasn't as easy as that. A good piece of my life had gone into this and I couldn't let it go so easy.

”He won't,” I finally answered, more confidently than I felt. ”When I get through with him, he'll be afraid to take Farber in if he was offered the United States mint.”

He walked to the door. ”I hope you know what you're doing,” he said as he went out.

I looked after him. ”That makes two of us,” I thought.

The phone rang and I picked it up. It was Doris.

”Where were you?” she asked. ”I called all over and couldn't get you.”

”I fell asleep in the office,” I answered ruefully. ”I came here after I left you and n.o.body knew I was in.” I changed the subject. ”How's Peter doing?”

”The doctor just left. He's sleeping normally now. The doctor thinks he's improving.”

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