Silent Truths

by Susan Lewis

  ‘You’re so cynical,’ Ava laughed, poking her in the ribs. ‘But we’re the ones who really stand to gain from this, in every way. God, I feel so horny tonight. Don’t you?’

  ‘Rampant, darling,’ Mitzi grinned, affecting an English accent.

  ‘I wonder if Theo ever has sex,’ Ava said, letting her head fall back. ‘One thing we know for certain, he’ll have read all the books.’ And they burst into hysterical laughter.

  ‘Tell me about his wife again,’ Ava demanded when she’d managed to get her breath back.

  ‘Oh God, didn’t I tell you?’ Mitzi cried, having to shout above the wind. ‘I just heard the other day, that she’s trying to take him for every penny now. You’ve just got to hate the woman, because he’s such a regular guy. You know – great dad, model son, more scruples than a Sunday school, he’s even a great husband. He’s just not the type to play around, is he? I mean, can you imagine it? But she’s trying to make out he’s had orgies in front of the kid, drug-taking, you name it, and to the best of my knowledge the man’s never even smoked pot, never mind the rest of it.’ After slowing up behind a truck, she put her foot down, whizzed round it and they both cheered and waved as the driver honked them. ‘What were we saying?’ Mitzi laughed. ‘Oh yeah. Mrs Theo Kennedy is what we refer to here as a Valley girl. Zero brains, laughable talent – she calls herself an actress – giant jugs, that are real by the way, so are going to start looking pretty gross any time now, and two ex-husbands who she’s already managed to fleece. What was he thinking when he married her? But we all know men are suckers for tits, which is why we’ve got them, babe.’ She performed a lewd, masculine growl as she chucked a hand under one of her own. ‘Just thank God we’ve got brains and talent too. Now, enough of all these worthy cerebral insights, let’s get down to the wonderful Carlotta and the way we’re going to handle tonight’s investors.’

  ‘Remind me who they are again.’

  ‘OK. There’s Abe Kleinstein, he’s the one giving the party. Apparently he put up the money for Eric’s last film, which is the real hot talk of the town, expected to win a handful of Oscars next March, and to gross over a hundred mill, so he’s a definite contender for a second time around. And then there’s going to be some rich Texan oil guy who’s considering getting into the entertainment business, and it’s going to be our job to make sure he does.’

  Ava threw out her arms to the rushing wind. ‘Stand by, roll camera, action!’ she cried.

  ‘Wrong order,’ Mitzi laughed, ‘but it’ll do. Did you bring some with you, by the way? I’m not sure how much I’ve got left.’

  Ava waggled her tiny heart-shaped purse.

  Mitzi blew her a kiss, then drove recklessly on along the twisting mountain-top road where millionaires’ mansions nestled way back in the seclusion of their tree-lined estates, and glimpses of the canyons and valleys below glittered like fallen skies full of stars.

  ‘Are we there already?’ Ava frowned, looking around as Mitzi steered the car in through an enormous set of gates, and accelerated up the steeply winding drive.

  ‘I told you, it was just past Beverly Ranch,’ Mitzi answered.

  ‘We could have walked.’

  Mitzi shrieked in horror. ‘Did you hear her? Did the girl say walk? Did no one ever tell her, you don’t walk in LA?’

  Rolling her eyes, Ava gazed out at the dense oaks whose giant trunks stood like sentries along the way, while their branches entwined overhead like wild hairstyles tangled in the wind. In her mind she was composing a sonnet to its splendour, effusing gratitude to God for this perfection, and hugging her hands to her shoulders as though embracing its charm.

  ‘Anyone for tennis?’ she suddenly cried, as they reached a fork that directed them right for the tennis courts and left for the residence. Mitzi spun them off to the left, steered them round several more bends, until the trees ended and a full-scale, perfect copy of a seventeenth-century French chateau appeared at the other end of a vast circular lawn that was lit up like a football field.

  ‘Unbelievable,’ Ava declared, slightly stunned by the sheer size and magnificence of the place. ‘It doesn’t look so big from the road.’

  ‘Because you can only see the turrets from the road,’ Mitzi reminded her, looking up at the clusters of tall grey steeples that might have appeared more authentic without the American flag flapping about in front of them. ‘Awesome, isn’t it?’ she stated. ‘Apparently it’s a copy of one in the Loire Valley. Chinon, I think.’

  ‘Chinon’s a ruin,’ Ava told her.

  ‘Oh well, it can’t be that one then, can it?’ and they dissolved into more uncontrollable laughter.

  ‘I read somewhere that most of the ceilings and fireplaces and stuff are originals from other chateaux, which he’s had shipped over,’ Mitzi said, dabbing the tears from under her eyes. They were driving around the lawn now, crunching slowly along the gravel, with several other cars behind and a few in front. ‘Oh, wow! Will you just check out all those limos,’ she suddenly cried, as they passed a small turning that led into some kind of parking zone. ‘There’ve got to be at least a dozen.’

  ‘We need to have sex in the back of one of those,’ Ava decided, reaching inside the bustier top of her dress to plump up her cleavage. Just to look at it made her heart skip with pleasure. How did women with small ones ever have fun?

  ‘You are so high!’ Mitzi laughed, as they abandoned the car to a valet and Ava slipped him a twenty-dollar bill. ‘You’re supposed to tip when we pick it up, not before.’

  ‘But he was so cute,’ Ava cried, twirling and skipping towards the open front doors.

  ‘You wearing panties?’ Mitzi whispered, smoothing her hands down over the clinging spandex of her own dress.

  ‘Yes. Are you?’

  ‘What in this?’ Mitzi laughed.

  Laughing too, Ava tossed her little purse over one shoulder and followed Mitzi to where a uniformed butler, with a clipboard and small round spectacles, was waiting to greet the guests.

  ‘Can I have your names, please?’ he politely enquired. Mitzi gave them and, after searching the list, he said, ‘Ah yes. Mr Kleinstein is expecting you. Ezra here will show you the way.’

  Ezra was a liveried footman who gestured for them to go ahead of him, across the dark maple wood hallway with all its dour portraits and antique furnishings, towards an open door where several people were already gathered, and loud music was making the place throb. As they passed a mirror in a pillar Mitzi stopped for a quick check over. Ava came to stand beside her, and as they caught each other’s eye in the reflection they started to laugh. Hollywood might be full of blonde bombshells, but they had to be two of the most explosive.

  ‘OK, baby, let’s go tear up that dance floor,’ Mitzi growled.

  They were already jigging in time to the beat, but as they headed for the bar Ezra stopped them. ‘Mr Kleinstein has requested you be shown straight through to the conservatory,’ he explained. ‘It’s this way.’

  Mitzi’s eyebrows arched. Then, beckoning for Ava to follow, she wiggled along after him, out to the pool, where another bar had been set up, different music was playing, and nude swimming had already begun.

  ‘Check out the blond guy next to the fountain,’ Mitzi whispered over her shoulder. ‘Got to get those shorts off, what do you say?’

  ‘Consider it done,’ Ava responded, giving a little wave to the Matthew McConaughey lookalike who’d just spotted them too.

  Head in the clouds, Mitzi stalked on behind Ezra, passing lushly cushioned loungers where clothes and drinks had been abandoned, until they reached a set of giant glass doors at the far end of the pool. A dark tint made it impossible to see in, but all was revealed as the footman slid one of them open and gestured for them to step into the stark, white interior, with all its moist green ferns and exotic palms, thickly padded bamboo furniture and exquisite marble statues that had to be copies because the originals were known to be in museums.

  ‘Now this is what you ca
ll style,’ Mitzi murmured, as a tall, carefully groomed man in his early sixties got up to greet them.

  ‘You’ve got to be Ava and Mitzi,’ he said, showing his perfectly aligned and overbleached teeth in a twinkling, paternal smile.

  ‘She’s Ava, I’m Mitzi,’ Mitzi informed him, taking his outstretched hand.

  ‘Good to meet you, ladies,’ he said warmly. ‘I’m Abe Kleinstein, your host for this evening.’

  As he shook Ava’s hand she treated him to one of her more seductive appraisals. ‘You have a beautiful home,’ she told him, holding on to his eyes.

  ‘Aaah,’ he sighed, putting a hand to his heart. ‘An English accent.’ He turned to the group of five or six men who were smoking long, fat cigars and drinking malt whisky. ‘She’s from England,’ he told them. ‘London’s one of my favourite cities. I get there as often as I can.’ As he spoke his eyes were sweeping the length of her, and it was obvious he liked what he saw, while Ava was overflowing with affection for his kind, lived-in face, and the way he dressed in such elegantly tailored clothes, that suggested he wasn’t only rich, but had class. She suddenly wanted to put her arms around him and tell him how happy and honoured she was to be here, that she would do anything to show her appreciation, just anything.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ Kleinstein said, taking her and Mitzi by the elbows, ‘let me introduce two very special ladies. Ava here wrote the book that Theo Kennedy’s bought an option on, and that Eric here’s in line to direct.’

  ‘Hey!’ Eric said, raising his glass towards them.

  ‘Hey,’ Mitzi responded. ‘Cool shirt.’

  Eric glanced down at the vibrant colours of his Hawaiian vacation purchase that was at least one size too big and so wrong for his newly dyed orange hair. ‘Glad you like it,’ he said. ‘Cool dress. Mitzi’s doing the screenplay,’ he informed everyone.

  Kleinstein was beaming. ‘Did you ever see a couple of writers who looked like this?’ he demanded.

  There was a general murmur of approval, which everyone seemed to enjoy, then Kleinstein said, ‘Ava, I want to introduce you to Hank Wingate. He’s an old buddy of mine from Texas, and we’re trying to get him interested in the movie world. Maybe you can help us out here.’

  ‘I’d be delighted,’ she responded, taking Wingate’s hand as he heaved his bulk out of the chair and doffed his ten-gallon hat. Though large, he was almost aggressively handsome, and his fist, as it closed around hers, was like a five-pronged steel vice.

  ‘Sure am glad to meet y’all,’ he told her, his blue eyes boring hard into hers.

  Ava laughed at his accent, then told him earnestly and soulfully how much she admired it, and him, and everyone from Texas, which was a place she longed to visit.

  ‘OK, so what’ll you ladies have to drink?’ Kleinstein offered, breaking into her eulogy. Then to the barman who was behind an all-glass oval bar, ‘Fix the ladies whatever they want, Manny. Manny’ll take care of you,’ he told them. ‘We got some business to finish up here, then we’ll move on to your project. Is that OK with you? I thought it’d be a good idea to get all the serious stuff out of the way before we get down to some partying.’ He grinned. ‘And I hear you two ladies know how to party.’

  ‘You better believe it,’ Mitzi responded, and with a quick shake of her shoulders she made for the bar.

  Ava’s hand was still in Wingate’s, so looking up at him from under her lashes, she blew him a Marilyn kiss, and went to join Mitzi, peering back over her shoulder as she heard his rumble of laughter.

  ‘I’ll have a vodka martini,’ she told the barman, climbing on to one of the stools.

  ‘That’ll be two vodka martinis,’ the barman responded.

  Behind them Kleinstein and his cronies returned to their meeting.

  ‘Are you OK with this?’ Mitzi whispered. ‘It seems they’ve already got it all set up for you and Wingate.’

  ‘If he can make the movie happen, then he’s my man,’ Ava trilled happily. ‘Actually, he’s quite cute, in a grisly bear sort of way.’ She glanced over in his direction, but he was engrossed in whatever they were discussing.

  ‘Look out, here comes Eric,’ Mitzi warned, so he could hear too.

  ‘You girls are just dynamite,’ he told them in a quiet voice. ‘I’m telling you, Wingate’s going to come through on this. Kleinstein’s put him in the frame for the full five million, and provided we treat him right –’

  ‘Where’s the “we”?’ Mitzi demanded, picking up her martini.

  He had the grace to look chastened as he said, ‘If I had your talents, believe me, I’d be sitting here dressed like that right now. But you’re cool about this, right? These guys are the make or break –’

  ‘Yeah, we know,’ Mitzi told him. ‘You just joined the project, remember? We know where it’s at.’

  ‘Do you? Did Theo tell you he’s paying you out of his own pocket now? The five million promised amounts to zip until it turns into cash. And there’s none of that yet, so right now he’s financing everything himself, which is how come he can’t pay me.’

  Ava was frowning. ‘I didn’t realize he was doing that, did you?’ she said to Mitzi.

  Mitzi shook her head. ‘But hey, it happens. Producers are doing it all the time. He’ll more than make his money back once we get these guys to green-light us.’

  ‘We need the right distributors for that,’ Weston reminded her. ‘Which is where Kleinstein comes in. He’s got more connections in this town than Pac Bell.’

  ‘Hey, what do we have here?’ Ava demanded, as the barman slid a silver filigree bowl, lined with blue glass and filled with white powder in front of them. ‘Is this what I think it is?’ She looked at Mitzi.

  ‘It’ll be the best,’ Eric assured them.

  ‘Help yourselves, ladies,’ Kleinstein called from where he was sitting.

  Ava blew him a kiss, then watched as Mitzi filled the tiny silver scoop and lifted it to each nostril. ‘Bliss,’ she declared, when finally she exhaled. ‘Oh God, I think I’m going to come.’

  Ava went next, inhaling deep and long, then dipping a finger into the bowl to rub more powder into her gums.

  ‘She was already high as a kite before we came in here,’ Mitzi confided to Eric. ‘There’ll be no holding her back now.’

  ‘That’s what I want to hear,’ he responded, reaching for the scoop.

  Ten minutes later they were euphorically engaged in high praise of each other’s talents, talking loudly and forcefully about Mitzi’s brilliance, Ava’s subtlety and Eric’s movies, that were right up there in the realms of serious art. ‘And what about Theo?’ Ava demanded. ‘Isn’t he something else, putting his own money into the project? He really deserves to see it made. We’ve got to get this made!’

  By the time Wingate and Kleinstein joined them, they were attempting to outdo each other in expressing their stupendous good fortune of actually being right here, in this room, the very heartbeat of Hollywood, where most people wouldn’t even get past the mailbox, never mind into the C dip.

  Listening with some amusement, Kleinstein helped himself to C dip from the silver bowl, then handed it to Mitzi with the suggestion they go pass it around the other men. Taking Eric with them, he left Wingate to perch on the stool Mitzi had just vacated, while the barman fixed him another large malt.

  ‘So, young lady,’ he said, looking right into Ava’s eyes, ‘I guess you better tell me about this book of yours, and why it’ll make a great movie.’

  Tilting her head playfully to one side, she said, ‘How long have I got?’

  ‘I’d say as long as it takes,’ he told her. ‘But I’m going to let you into a secret. It’s going to help your case a lot if I can look at those there puppies while you’re a-telling me.’

  It was a moment before she realized he meant her breasts and, smouldering at the vulgarity of his expression, she hooked a finger into the zipper ring and, keeping her eyes fixed on his face, pulled it slowly down to her waist.

  ‘Now that�
�s what I call puppies,’ he declared, as the top of the dress descended on to her hips like wings.

  ‘I’m glad you like them,’ she responded.

  ‘How about you take the whole thing off?’ he suggested, sweeping a hand down over the rest of the dress.

  Her eyebrows went up, but obediently she got to her feet, drew the zip down to the hem, then let the dress fall to the floor. The silver monograms on her thong matched those on the toes of her shoes. Then, laughing as the others whistled and cheered, she made a graceful curtsy, spun round a couple of times, curtsied again then climbed back on to the stool.

  ‘The book,’ he reminded her as she picked up her drink.

  As she talked he began fondling her, rotating her nipples with his fingers and cupping each heavy breast with his massive hands. She kept on with the story, sipping her martini and feeling the overwhelming love she had for Carlotta infusing her heart more deeply than ever with every word she spoke. Now and again, above her own voice, she heard Mitzi or someone else laughing, then she was vaguely aware of the doors sliding open and the room filling with noise from the pool as the others left. She was still talking, passionately, brilliantly, persuasively about Carlotta and Rodrigo and the terrible fate they had suffered, then finally overcome. And all the time she talked, he stroked and squeezed, pressed and tugged, while Manny, the barman, refilled their drinks and kept the white stuff handy.

  When at last she finished his hands were on her thighs, and his mouth was clamped greedily to one nipple. She ran her fingers through his thick, greying hair and pulled him in tighter. ‘God, I love you,’ she seethed. ‘You’re such an animal, you make me feel sexier than sex itself. I want you to do everything to me that you ever dreamt of.’

  ‘That’s where I’m a-going baby,’ he told her, raising his head and wiping the back of a hand across his mouth.

  ‘I want you to come to Italy with us when we go,’ she said, fumbling with his belt. ‘I want you to know that I’m going to be there for you. Whatever you want –’