by Mario Puzo
Losey unfolded the chair and sat on it. “My ex-wife gave me this chair. I was interrogating and arresting so many surfers she said I might as well be comfortable.” He looked down at Boz Skannet almost kindly. “I just wanted to ask you a few questions. One, what are you doing so close to Miss Aquitane’s house? You’re violating the judge’s restraining order.”
“I’m on a public beach, there’s a fence in between us, and I’m in a bathing suit. Do I look like I’m harassing her?” Boz said.
Losey had a sympathetic smile on his face. “Hey, look,” he said, “if I was married to that broad, I couldn’t stay away from her either. How about if I take a look in your beach bag?”
Boz put the beach bag beneath his head. “No,” he said. “Unless you have a warrant.”
Losey gave him a friendly smile. “Don’t make me arrest you,” he said. “Or just beat the shit out of you and take the bag.”
This aroused Boz. He stood up, he offered the bag to Losey, but then he held it away from him. “Try and take it,” he said.
Jim Losey was startled. In his own estimation he had never met anybody tougher than himself. In any other situation he would have drawn his blackjack or his gun and beaten the man to a pulp. Perhaps it was the sand under his feet that made him uncertain, or perhaps it was the utter fearlessness of Skannet.
Boz was smiling at him. “You’ll have to shoot me,” he said. “I’m stronger than you. Big as you are. And if you shoot me, you won’t have probable cause.”
Losey admired the man’s perceptiveness. In a physical struggle the issue might be in doubt. And there was no cause to draw a weapon.
“Okay,” he said. He folded up his chair and started to walk away. Then he turned and said admiringly, “You’re really a tough guy. You win. But don’t give me a good probable cause. You see I haven’t measured your distance from the house, you may be just out of range of the judge’s order. . . .”
Boz laughed. “I won’t give you cause, don’t worry.”
He watched Jim Losey walk off the beach to his car and drive away. Boz put his blanket into the beach bag and returned to his own car. He put the beach bag in the trunk, took the car key off its ring, and hid it under the front seat. Then he went back to the beach for his swim around the fence.
CHAPTER 5
ATHENA AQUITANE HAD earned her way to stardom in the traditional way that the public seldom appreciates. She spent long years in training: acting classes, dance and movement classes, voice lessons, extensive reading in dramatic literature, all necessary to the art of acting.
And of course the scut work. She made the rounds of agents, casting directors, mildly lecherous producers and directors, the more dinosaur-like sexual advances of studio wheels and chiefs.
In her first year she earned her living by doing commercials, and some modeling, as a skimpily clad hostess for automotive expositions, but that was only her first year. Then her acting skills began to pay off. She had lovers who showered her with gifts of jewelry and money. Some of them offered marriage. The affairs were brief and ended on friendly terms.
None of this had been painful or humiliating to her, not even when the buyer of a Rolls-Royce assumed she came with the car. She had put him off with the joke that she had the same price as the car. She was fond of men, she enjoyed sex, but only as a treat and reward for more serious endeavor. Men were not a serious part of her world.
Acting was Life. Her secret knowledge of herself was serious. The dangers of the world were serious. But acting came first. Not the tiny movie roles that enabled her to pay expenses, but the great acting parts in great plays put on by local theater groups and then the plays at the Mark Taper Forum that finally propelled her toward major film roles.
Her real life was the parts she played, she felt more alive as she brought her characters to life, carried them around inside her while living out her ordinary existence. Her love affairs were like amusements, playing golf and tennis, dining with friends, dreamlike substances.
Real life was only in the cathedral-like theater: putting on makeup, adding one splash of color to her costume, her face contorting with emotions of the lines of the play running through her head, and then, looking into that deep blackness of the audience—God finally showing his face—she pleaded her fate. She wept, fell in love, screamed with anguish, begged forgiveness for her secret sins, and sometimes experienced the redemptive joy of happiness found.
She hungered for fame and success to obliterate her past, to drown her memories of Boz Skannet, of the child they had together, of the betrayal by her beauty; a sly fairy godmother’s boon.
Like any artist, she wanted the world to love her. She knew she was beautiful—how could she not, her world constantly told her so—but she knew also she was intelligent. And so from the beginning she believed in herself. What she really could not believe, at the beginning, was that she had the indispensable ingredients of true genius: enormous energy and concentration. And curiosity.
Acting and music were Athena’s true loves, and to be able to concentrate on these things she used her energy to make herself expert in everything else. She learned to fix a car, became a superb cook, excelled at sports. She studied lovemaking in the literature and in life, knowing how important it was in her chosen profession.
She had a flaw. She could not bear to inflict pain on a fellow human being, and since in this life this was impossible to avoid, she was an unhappy woman. Yet she made hard-nosed decisions that furthered her place in the world. She used her power as a Bankable Star; she sometimes had a coldness that was as intense as her beauty. Powerful men beseeched her to appear in their movies, men begged to climb into her bed. She influenced, even demanded, the choosing of directors and costars. She could commit minor crimes without punishment, outrage custom, defy nearly all moralities, and who was to say who was the real Athena? She had the inscrutability of all Bankable Stars, she was a twin, you could not separate her real life from the lives she lived on screen.
All this and the world loved her, but that was not enough. She knew her inner ugliness. There was one person who did not love her and that caused her to suffer. It is part of the definition of an actress that she will despair if she gets one hundred positive reviews and a single hateful one.
At the end of her first five years in Los Angeles, Athena got her first starring role in film and made her greatest conquest.
Like all top male stars, Steven Stallings had a veto over the female leading role of each of his pictures. He saw Athena in a Mark Taper Forum play and recognized her talent. But even more he was struck by her beauty, and so he chose Athena to costar with him in his next film.
Athena was completely surprised and flattered. She knew this was her big break, and initially she did not know why she had been chosen. Her agent, Melo Stuart, enlightened her.
They were in Melo’s office, a wonderfully decorated room with Oriental bric-a-brac, gold-threaded carpets, and heavy comfortable furniture all bathed in artificial lights since the curtains were closed to cut out daylight. Melo liked an English tea in his office rather than going out for lunch and picked up the little sandwiches and popped them into his mouth as he talked. He only went out to lunch with his really famous clients.
“You deserve this break,” he told Athena. “You’re a great actress. But you’ve only been in this town a few years and despite your intelligence you’re a little green. So don’t take offense about what I’m going to say—here’s what happened.” He paused for a moment. “Usually I would never explain this, usually it’s not necessary.”
“But I’m so green,” Athena said smiling.
“Not green exactly,” Melo said. “But you’re so focused on your art, you sometimes seem unaware of the social complexi-ties of the industry.”
Athena was amused. “So tell me how I got the part.”
Melo said, “Stallings’s agent called me. He said Stallings saw you in the Taper play and was knocked out by your performance. He definitely wants you in
the picture. Then the producer called me to negotiate and we made the deal. Straight salary, two hundred grand, no points, that comes later in your career, and no strings for any other picture. That’s a really great deal for you.”
“Thank you,” Athena said.
“I really shouldn’t have to be saying this,” Melo said. “Steven has a habit of falling madly in love with his costars. Sincerely, but he’s a very ardent wooer.”
Athena interrupted him. “Melo, don’t spell it out.”
“I feel I must,” Melo said.
He gazed at her fondly. He himself, usually so impervious, had fallen in love with Athena at the beginning, but since she had never acted seductively, he had taken the hint and not revealed his feelings. She was, after all, a valuable piece of property that would in the future earn him millions.
“Are you trying to tell me that I’m supposed to jump on his bones the first time we’re alone?” Athena said dryly. “Isn’t my great talent enough?”
“Absolutely not,” Melo said. “And absolutely. A great actress is a great actress, no matter what. But you know how someone becomes a great star in film? At some time they have to get the great part at exactly the right moment. And this is that great part for you. You cannot afford to miss it. And what’s so hard about falling in love with Steven Stallings? A hundred million women all over the world love him, why not you? You should be flattered.”
“I’m flattered,” Athena said coolly. “But if I really hate him, then what?”
Melo popped another tea sandwich into his mouth. “What’s to hate? He’s really a sweet man, I swear to you. But at least dally with him until they’ve shot you enough in the picture so they can’t cut you out.”
“What if I’m so good they won’t want to cut me?” Athena said.
Melo sighed. “To tell the truth, Steven won’t wait that long. If you’re not in love with him after three days, you’ll be out of the picture.”
“That’s sexual harassment,” Athena said, laughing.
“There can be no sexual harassment in the movie business,” Melo said. “In one form or another you’re offering your ass for sale by just going in.”
“I meant the part where I have to fall in love with him,” Athena said. “Straight screwing is not enough for Steven?”
“He can get all the screwing he wants,” Melo said. “He’s in love with you so he wants love in return. Until the shoot is over.” He sighed. “Then you’ll both fall out of love because you’ll be too busy working.” He paused for a moment. “It won’t be insulting to your dignity,” he said. “A star like Steven indicates his interest. The recipient, yourself, responds or shows a lack of interest in that interest. Steven will send you flowers the first day. The second day after rehearsal he invites you to dinner to study the script. There’s nothing forced about it. Except, of course, that you will be cut from the picture if you don’t go. With a full payoff, I can do that for you.”
“Melo, don’t you think I’m good enough to make it without selling my body?” Athena said with mock reproach.
“Of course you are,” Melo said. “You’re young, only twenty-five. You can wait two or three, even four or five years. I have absolute faith in your talent. But give it a chance. Everybody loves Steven.”
It went exactly as Melo Stuart predicted. Athena received flowers the first day. The second day they rehearsed with the whole company. It was a dramatic comedy where laughter led to tears, one of the hardest things to do. Athena was impressed with Steven Stallings’s skill. He read his part in a monotone with no effort to impress but still the lines came alive, and on the variations he invariably picked the one most true. They played one scene a dozen different ways and responded to each other, followed each other like dancers. At the end, he muttered, “Good, good,” and smiled at her with respectful acknowledgment that was purely professional.
At the end of the day Steven finally turned on his charm.
“I think this may be a great movie because of you,” he said. “How about getting together tonight and really doing a number on this script?” He paused for a moment and then said with a boyish smile that was endearing, “We were really good together.”
“Thank you,” Athena said. “When and where?”
Immediately Steven’s face expressed a polite, playful hor-ror. “Oh, no,” he said. “Your choice.”
At that moment Athena decided to accept her role and to play it as a true professional. He was the superstar. She was the newcomer. But all the choices were his and it was her duty to choose what he wanted. Ringing in her ears was Melo saying, “you wait two, three, four, five years.” She couldn’t wait.
“Would you mind coming to my place?” Athena asked. “I’ll make dinner simple so we can work while we eat.” She paused for a moment, then said, “At seven?”
Because she was a perfectionist, Athena prepared for the mutual seduction physically and mentally. Dinner would be light so it would not affect their work or their sexual performance. Though she rarely touched alcohol, she bought a bottle of white wine. The meal would show off her talent as a cook, but she could prepare while they worked.
Clothes. She understood that the seduction was supposed to be accidental, with no prior intent. But they should not be used as a signal to ward him off either. As an actor, Steven would be looking to interpret every sign.
So she wore faded blue jeans that showed her buttocks to advantage, the mottled blue and faded white invitingly cheer-ful. No belt. Above, a frilly white silk blouse that though it showed no cleavage, indicated the milkier color of her breasts beneath. Her ears she decorated with small round clip-ons, green to match her eyes. Still it was just a little too severe, a little standoffish. It left room for doubt. Then she had a stroke of genius. She painted her toenails a scarlet red and greeted him barefoot.
Steven Stallings arrived carrying a bottle of good red wine, not super but very good. He was also dressed for business. Baggy brown corduroy trousers, blue denim shirt, white sneakers, his dark black hair carelessly combed. Under his arm was the script with yellow note slips peeking out demurely. The only thing that gave him away was the faint scent of cologne.
They ate casually at the kitchen table. He complimented her on the food, as well he should. And as they ate they leafed through their scripts, comparing notes, changing dialogue for smoother delivery.
After dinner they moved to the living room and played out specific scenes they had targeted as trouble areas in the script. Through all this they were very conscious of each other, and it affected their work.
Athena noticed that Steven Stallings was playing his part perfectly. He was professional, respectful. Just his eyes betrayed his genuine admiration of her beauty, his appreciation of her talent as an actress, of her mastery of the material. Finally he asked her if she was too tired to play the crucial love scene in the movie script.
By that time the dinner had been comfortably digested. By that time they had become close friends, like the characters in the script. They played the love scene, Steven kissing her slightly on the lips but leaving out the body gropings. After the first chaste kiss, he looked deeply and sincerely into her eyes, and with perfect husky emotion in his voice, he said, “I wanted to do that the first time I saw you.”
Athena held his eyes with her own. Then she lowered them, pulled his head down gently and gave him a chaste kiss. The necessary signal. They were both surprised by the genuine passion with which he responded. Which proved she was the better actor, Athena thought. But he was skillful. As he undressed her, his hands smoothed her skin and his fingers probed, his tongue tickled the inside of her thigh and her body responded. This wasn’t so terrible, she thought as they moved into the bedroom. And Steven was so startlingly handsome, his classic face, suffused with passion, had an intensity that could not be duplicated on film, indeed on film this would be degraded into lecherousness. When he made love on screen it was far more spiritual.
Athena had now worked herself into the pa
rt of a woman overcome with mad physical passion. They were perfectly in sync and in one blinding moment rose to a simultaneous climax. Lying back in exhaustion, both wondered how the scene would have appeared on film and decided it would not have been good enough for a take. It had not revealed character as it should, or advanced the story as it should. It had lacked the inner tender emotion of true love or even true lust. There would have to be another take.
Steven Stallings fell in love, but he often did that. Athena, despite the fact that it was in some sense professional rape, felt pleased that things had turned out so well. There was no real downside except the question of free will. And it could be said of any life that the suppression of free will, judiciously exercised, was often necessary for human survival.
Steven was happy that now in the shooting of his new film he had all his ducks in a row. He had a good working partner. They would have a pleasant relationship, he wouldn’t have to look around for sex. Also, he had rarely had a woman so blessed with talent and beauty as Athena, and also so good in bed. And obviously madly in love with him, which of course could be a problem later on.
What happened next cemented their love. They both jumped out of bed and said, “Let’s go back to work.” They picked up their scripts and, naked, perfected their readings.
However, one disconcerting note for Athena was when Steven put on his shorts. They were scalloped pink, especially designed to show off his shapely buttocks, those buns that were the source of ecstasy to his female fans. Another odd note was when he proudly told her that he had used a condom made especially for him, manufactured by a company he had invested in. You could never detect he was wearing one. They were also absolutely impregnable. And he asked her what would be the best marketing name for them: Excalibur or King Arthur. He liked King Arthur. Athena thought it over for a moment.
Then she said with mock seriousness, “Maybe a more politically correct name?”