The Raiders

by Гарольд Роббинс

  Anticipating the appearance of Bill Toller at the graduation — and not to be compelled to face his ex-wife in the company of a man while he was alone — Jonas brought Angie. She drew stares and comments as always.

  Bat called Toni Maxim in Washington and asked her to come to Northampton. His father liked Toni. So did Jo-Ann, he thought. If he had shown up in Northampton with Glenda Grayson, he would have made tension and a scandal. Anyway, he wanted to keep his relationship with Toni, and inviting her to be with him on an important family occasion made up for half a dozen occasions when he might have seen her and didn't. Toni was the right choice for this weekend.

  Jonas took note. "Well. Back to this one. Which one counts?"

  "Monogamy is not a Cord family tradition," Bat said curtly.

  Even so, the weekend and the Monday commencement were one prolonged confrontation.

  Monica seemed interested in only one thing about this son Jonas had suddenly discovered: Was he really producing a television show starring Glenda Grayson of all people? As a magazine editor, she was interested in that. She was also interested in seeing Jonas get laughed at — an interest she was unable to conceal.

  Bill Toller was conspicuously out of place and embarrassed. He spent his time trying to find someone who would talk with him and settled finally on Toni. She could talk politics with him and so became a refuge for him.

  Monica was annoyed that Jonas had brought Angie. Jonas was glad she was annoyed. Angie was amused.

  2

  Jonas told Bat to come to his suite for breakfast at 6:30 on commencement morning. Alone.

  "We'll have two breakfasts," said Jonas when Bat sat down at the wheeled table loaded with eggs, bacon, pancakes, fruit, and coffee — also with a bottle of bourbon from which Jonas was sipping sparingly. "The whole crowd is getting together at eight."

  Bat nodded. He took note that Angie had not come out of the bedroom.

  "That girl you've brought with you is first rate," said Jonas. "Toni is first class, in every way I can see and I imagine in some others that only you know about."

  "She's very special," said Bat solemnly.

  "So, when you gonna marry her?"

  "That's none of your business, really; but what would you say if I told you she's not sure she wants to marry a son of Jonas Cord?"

  "She doesn't like me?"

  "Oh, she likes you fine," said Bat. "But she's not sure she wants a husband whose father dominates his life."

  "I dominate your life? I thought you'd declared independence of me, pretty goddamned emphatically. Look. You want out? You want to go back to practicing law? Why not? You're supposed to be good at it."

  Bat nodded. "I've thought about it."

  "Don't forget something," said Jonas. "You picked up the Jonas Cord way of living pretty damned fast, and you seem to thrive on it. Putting aside some of your expense accounts, do you figure a young lawyer would be humping a big nightclub star ... on the q.t., besides the girl he's supposed —"

  "I've made no commitment to Toni. She's made none to me."

  "Well, that's too friggin' bad. Anyway — Never mind. This television show. Nobody wants it. No sponsor. Right?"

  "We don't know yet."

  "Well, when you gonna know?"

  "I'm working on it."

  "So far, you haven't got a sponsor. Could that be because you don't know fuck about how to build a successful television show? I've dumped more than a million — "

  "You dumped seventeen million into the Pacific Ocean off San Diego in 1945," said Bat. "Could that be because you didn't know fuck about how to build an airplane?"

  Jonas's face stiffened and reddened for a moment. Then he relaxed and smiled. "You son of a — Look, I want you to make a success of whatever you try. You think I don't?"

  Bat hesitated, then said, "You think it's easy being a son of Jonas Cord?"

  "No. Don't forget, I was ... the son of the old man. Maybe I'm gaining a new appreciation of my father. It's not easy to be the father of a Jonas Cord either."

  "Okay," said Bat. "Nothing good is achieved easy."

  Jonas tossed back a gulp of bourbon. "Right. But take a word from me. You say Glenda is no hooker. Well, she's not far from it. Take it easy, mister. Be careful about her."

  "Then send her to you, huh?"

  3

  Over breakfast and for the rest of the commencement weekend, Bat gave his attention to his little sister. The occasion should have been hers, but she seemed lost in the tangle of antagonisms that dominated the group. He watched her drinking. On what should have been a happy day for her, she wasn't happy, and she was anesthetizing herself with Scotch.

  "Where are you going after commencement?" he asked her.

  "I am supposed to go to Monica's apartment in New York," she said.

  "Use our apartment in the Waldorf Towers," said Bat. "Our father is there only a night or so every two weeks, and I'm there not much more."

  "I hear you rented a handsome beach house in California," she said. "Could I move in with you there for a while? I promise to behave."

  Bat glanced toward Toni. "How good are you at keeping a secret?" he asked quietly. "You'll have to behave. I'm not living there alone."

  4

  Glenda loved the beach house, though she did not love the beach. Her white skin did not tan. It burned. Exposed to the sun, it turned bright red and peeled. Anyway, she didn't want to tan. Her white skin was a part of her persona. She even stayed off the deck when it was hot with sunlight. She wore a bikini around the house, only because she knew Bat liked it.

  On a Sunday evening they sat on the deck, in the faint purple-orange light of a sun that had already disappeared below the Pacific horizon. They had Scotches and some cheese with crackers.

  "I've got to fly back to Las Vegas tomorrow," said Bat.

  "Again?"

  "It is my business, you know. The Seven Voyages."

  "Your business is being the producer of our show," said Glenda. "Sam's having trouble selling it. We may have to do some reshooting."

  "I'm president of Cord Hotels," said Bat. "We bought land south of Flamingo Road. My father is flying in tomorrow. We're meeting with the architect."

  "A second Cord hotel," she mused. "What will you call it?"

  "Well, since our airline is Inter-Continental, we may call the hotel Intercontinental — with a capital C in the middle."

  "Plus you own the place in Cuba."

  "Not really. We lease the casino and show room in the Floresta. We have nothing to do with the hotel operation."

  "Bat — " She stared out to sea, abruptly shook her head, and didn't finish what she had started to say.

  "What's the matter, baby?"

  She turned her face toward him. "Bat. Be careful. There are some rough types in Las Vegas."

  "That's something else I've got to look into. Our man Chandler seems to have too many friends among those rough types."

  "Why don't you get rid of him?" she asked.

  "We keep him busy, which gives him less opportunity to make mischief. If we turned him loose, he could become a full-time troublemaker."

  5

  They heard the door open, then heard the voice of Jo-Ann: too enthusiastic and slurring her words. "Where are you guys? Out on the deck?" Glenda pulled on a terry-cloth beach coat to cover her swimsuit. Bat turned around and knocked on the glass door, to indicate that was in fact where they were: out on the deck.

  Jo-Ann was not alone. Ben Parrish was with her. Bat rued the day he had introduced her to Ben. He could not have imagined she would develop a hasty and intemperate infatuation for the man. He'd done it because Ben was a mature man and broadly knowledgeable about the things in Los Angeles and Hollywood that would most interest Jo-Ann. He had expected Ben to introduce her to some people in the film community and give her a good time.

  Glenda had rued the introduction from the moment she heard of it. "My god, Bat! You don't know the man. He's a Hollywood hustler."

  "I
thought he was an agent. That's how I met him. He tried to interest me in a game show. In fact, I am interested in it."

  "You don't know the other element of his reputation," Glenda had said. "He's got the biggest schlong in California. Girls will do anything even to get a look at it."

  "You've seen it?"

  Glenda had grinned. "No, lover, I haven't. But I've heard about it plenty."

  There could be no discounting the man's charm. Ben was a squarish man: broad of shoulders, with a big solid head set on a short neck. His eyes were pale blue. He was deeply tanned. Though he was only a year or so older than Bat, his hair had begun to turn gray, and he had apparently hastened and completed the process by having chemicals applied to it. It was almost white, smooth and handsome. His square open face did not suggest the hustler Glenda said he was. To the contrary, it suggested a man who could not tell a lie.

  Ben and Jo-Ann had spent the afternoon at a pool party. Jo-Ann wore a white terry beach coat like Glenda's. It was open, showing a tiny black bikini. She was drunk. Ben wore damp maroon trunks and a white polo shirt.

  As soon as they were on the deck, Ben lit cigarettes for himself and Jo-Ann. They smoked only on the deck. It was a concession to Bat's pronounced dislike of cigarette smoke.

  Everyone understood that Ben would stay the night. He had been doing that, several nights a week.

  "We were gonna order in some dinner," said Bat. "You going to join us?"

  "On a condition," said Ben. "On me. I buy. What would you guys like? Mexican? Chinese?"

  "Chinee," said Jo-Ann. "With an order of fwied pickled ... cockwoaches."

  "Fried pickled cockroaches it is," said Ben. "How about a nice bottle of champagne to go with that?"

  "That'll make me burp," said Jo-Ann. "How 'bout just reg'lar white wine?"

  Ben nodded. "I'll go and make the calls."

  "I'll go with you," said Jo-Ann.

  "You sit down," said Bat. "I want to talk to you."

  Ben's face darkened for an instant as he heard Bat give his sister a direct order, but he turned and went in the house without a word. Glenda got up and went in after him.

  "Little sister, you're drunk," Bat said. "I'm not your father, but —"

  "Good. That's settled," said Jo-Ann. "I don't have a father. Don't try to play like you are my father."

  She reached for the bottle of Scotch, but he jerked it away from her. "Our father is not that bad," he said. "Maybe the problem is you don't have any basis for comparison." She turned her face away from him and directed her attention to the sunset colors slowly fading on the ocean. He went on. "When I introduced you to Ben, I didn't expect you to start sleeping with him."

  "You should appreciate him," she said dully. "You jerked the bottle away. Last night he slapped me and poured my drink in the toilet."

  "He slapped you? Here? In this house? Last night?"

  She nodded and glanced at him. "I had it coming."

  "I doubt it," said Bat grimly.

  "Don't interfere, big brother. He did it because he cares."

  "Or so he says."

  She shook her head. "He didn't say it. But why else? What difference to him if I get schnocked? Unless —"

  "Do you think nobody else cares about you?"

  "Nevada did," she said quietly. "I guess maybe you do, in your way. Jonas? Monica?" She shook her head.

  "You're too ready to feel sorry for yourself," said Bat. "You're twenty-one years old. Our father has settled a generous allowance on you —"

  "Generous? Is it?"

  "It's as much as I'm paid as a salary," said Bat. "It's exactly the same."

  "Well, tell me something, big brother. Would you accept an allowance from Jonas? He made you vice president of Cord Hotels, then president. You're supposed to earn your money. Would you accept it otherwise?"

  Bat stared hard at her for a moment, before he understood and could respond. "All right. No, I wouldn't."

  "Well, I have to. He won't make me a president of anything. So I have to take his charity."

  "He's a generous man, and he loves you."

  "If you think so. On both scores. I don't think he's capable of either generosity or love."

  "You're wrong. Anyway ... You want a job? Is that the point?"

  "I want somebody to think I could do a job," she said.

  "I'll see what I can do. Now. Ben Parrish —"

  "Why did you introduce me to him?" Jo-Ann asked.

  "I thought —"

  "If I marry him, you and Jonas both can go to hell."

  6

  Three hours later Bat and Glenda lay in bed together. Her hair was not sprayed and spread softly over his shoulder. She was in a sleepy, dreamy mood.

  "Jo-Ann ... and Ben Parrish," she said quietly. "I can't believe it."

  "It was the Scotch talking," he said. "She couldn't be thinking of marrying him."

  "She had some more. Wine and Scotch. And he wasn't in good shape when they went to bed."

  "Be lucky if they don't decide to go swimming in the purple dawn and drown."

  "Water's too cold to drown in," said Glenda. "When he wades out deep enough for the water to reach his balls, he'll run back to the beach."

  When the bedroom was dark, as it was now, Bat touched the switch that drew back the drapes. From the bed they could see the ocean and tonight could see stars in an unusually clear sky, and could see the odd luminescence of the breaking waves.

  Glenda sighed. "The ocean is beautiful," she said. "But I can remember being afraid of it. When I was twenty years old I lived in an apartment with a girlfriend, on Nineteenth Avenue in Bensonhurst. I was working clubs, and I'd come home at night, and out there, just a little distance away, was the ocean. And out there ... Who could tell? Fifty or sixty feet below the surface and only a mile away, maybe a Nazi submarine. Maybe a whole wolf pack of them. An armed force ... of the people who wanted to kill you. I suppose it wasn't realistic. But the Nazis weren't so far away, you see. And if you were a Jew —"

  Bat interrupted her with a kiss. "Honey baby," he said softly. "If any Nazis come ashore — There's a pistol in the nightstand."

  She sighed again, a noisy exhalation. "You protect Golda?" she asked in the voice of a child.

  He brushed back her soft blond hair and kissed her again. "Of course I will, honey baby," he whispered.

  "Uhmm ... You don't want to call me Golda, do you?"

  "I think of you as Glenda."

  "Golda Graustein. And Golda Graustein loves Bat Cord. It promises disaster. Golda Graustein, the daughter of Rabbi Mordecai Graustein, is in love with the son of Jonas Cord, the grandson of Jonas Cord. Love has never brought me anything but ... ill fortune. It's never brought me anything but hurt. I'm hesitant to confess it, for fear it will drive you away."

  "Golda —"

  "No. You must call me something else. Not Glenda, either. I'm somebody else! Call me Christy! What could be more Christian?"

  "Who asked you to be a Christian?"

  "But —"

  "No, Golda. I don't ask you to be anything but what you are. Hell, I'm what I am, and some people think that's not so great. Golda ... Golda ... Hey, I love you, Golda. You love me — Well ... I love you, too. C'mere ... Christy, my achin' ass!"

  7

  Sponsorship and a network spot were the first big problems for the Glenda Grayson Show. Cord Productions filmed a pilot program on the Cord soundstages in March 1955, using the format and plot Bat had suggested to his father when he first told him about the idea.

  Plot — A Glenda Grayson Show is in rehearsal in a Broadway studio. The guest star is to be Danny Kaye, but three days before the broadcast he is taken to the hospital for an emergency appendectomy. Glenda's predicament comes to the attention of her fellow nightclub performer Liberace, who rushes in to help her. At home Glenda faces a personal crisis in the life of her daughter Tess, played by Margit Little. Tess's prom date has announced he has been grounded for knocking a fender off his father's car. Glenda's c
all to the angry father doesn't help. Glenda consoles Tess by letting her do something she has always wanted to do — appear on the Glenda Grayson Show. Tess dances a solo number to the music of Liberace, then joins her mother to dance in the finale. The date calls to tell Tess his father saw her on television and is so impressed by the idea of his son going to the prom with a television star that he has relented.

  "A catalog of venerable showbiz cliches," Jonas grunted. "Probably be a big success."

  Glenda appeared in a variation on her signature costume, that is in a black body stocking under a lace-trimmed black corselette, with the black fedora atilt over her forehead. On that show she used for the last time her line "Change your name, Golda. Please!" It was worn out now, and she would not use it again.

  Sam Stein took a print of the show to New York and offered it to a score of prospective sponsors. They liked it, but — Combining situation comedy with a variety show was a bold idea, and they were not sure audiences would like it. Glenda Grayson was too ... Well, sophisticated for television audiences. ("Y' know, this gets beamed into people's living rooms.") Her costume looked too much like underwear, even though the body stocking covered everything. Anyway, no one had ever appeared on television in a body stocking. Margit Little's leotards rode too high on her hips. One of the lines suggested she had been intimate with this boy she was dating. Some of Glenda's lines could be understood two ways. Too many shows were set in New York. Would people buy a refrigerator Glenda Grayson recommended — any more than they would buy one Sophie Tucker recommended? American housewives would not identify with Glenda Grayson.

  And so on.

  Without a sponsor, none of the networks could commit a time slot. When Bat returned to California from Northampton, Sam had not yet found a sponsor.