by Stuart Woods
Susie glowed. “Thank you, Rick. I’ve worked hard on her.”
“Vance is a lucky actor.”
“Listen,” she said, “where did this guy come from? He seems to have been hatched as a working actor, and I’ve never heard of him, not in New York or L.A.”
“He’s English, and…”
“English?”
“Yes, and he toured in rep over there, then did a second lead in the West End and came to New York with the play, which ran for only a few weeks, then he came west.”
“I’m flabbergasted,” she said. “He’s so real I thought you’d found him around here somewhere.”
“I guess that’s what talent is. We’ve got him for a three-picture deal.”
“What are the other two?”
“Sid Brooks is working on adapting a novel for a romantic comedy, and I want to take a look at it. Beyond that, I don’t know, yet.”
“Whatever he does, I hope you’ll consider me; I love working with him.”
“Sure, I will.”
Manny White, the location director approached. “Rick, I’m told we’ll have phones before the day is out.”
“That’s a relief,” Rick said, though they had gotten along perfectly well with only the telegraph connection.
“Alice Brooks got a telegram from Sid this morning,” Manny said. “Alan James killed himself last night.”
Rick was stunned. “He was what, thirty-five?”
“About that.”
“Does anybody know why?”
“The telegram asked Alice to call Sid as soon as possible; maybe we’ll know more after she speaks to him.”
Rick got onto the bus with the others, and they were driven back to the ranch house. He went upstairs to change his clothes and boots, and found Glenna there, doing the same, while keeping up a running conversation with their little girls.
“We need to hire a laundress, maybe two, and buy some washing machines,” she said. “Though I don’t know where we’re going to dry things in this weather.”
“Indoors, I should think.”
She laughed. “Well, yes.”
“Talk to Manny about it. By the way, we just heard that Alan James killed himself last night. Sid telegraphed the news to Alice.”
“Good God, why?”
Rick shrugged. “The phones are going in today; maybe we’ll know more later. But James was one of those who were subpoenaed, and the hearings are soon. That could have had something to do with it.”
“You should call Sid when you can and see how he is.”
“I’ll do that.”
They went downstairs for lunch, and Rick shared the news with those at the table. Only Leo Goldman seemed not to react.
“Rick, did you know James?” Vance asked.
“A little. We were at a dinner party with him once. Nice guy, I thought.”
“Does this have something to do with the hearings?” Vance asked.
“I wouldn’t be surprised. I hope we’ll know more later today, when we have telephones that work.”
Ellie Cooper spoke up. “Now you see why we’ve never had a phone,” she said. “We would have had to pay for the poles and the stringing of the wire for about five miles.”
“I never missed it much,” Mac said. “I’ve lived on ranches all my life and never in a house with a telephone.”
“It’s a great convenience, as long as you don’t give anybody your number,” Rick said and got a laugh.
When the day’s shooting was over, Rick arrived back at the ranch house to hear a phone ringing in the living room. He picked it up. “Hello?”
“Rick? It’s Eddie.”
“Hi, Eddie.”
“You’ve got a phone!”
“We have, for better or worse; you’re our first call.”
“Manny sent me a telegram. How’s it going?”
“It’s been raining like hell, but it’s going to look good on the screen.”
“If you say so.”
“You heard about Alan James, I guess.”
“Yeah, I did. It’s got to be because of the hearings; he was going to testify.”
“I should think so. Anything else back there I should know about?”
“I had a call from Mickey Cohen.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. I told him to go fuck himself.”
“In those words?”
“I told him to go fuck himself politely. You sound tired.”
“Yeah, I am. I think I’ll have a nap before dinner.”
“Go ahead, kiddo. I’m glad you’re in touch now, and I’ll try not to bug you too much. Oh, by the way, the first footage came back from the lab today, and it’s gorgeous. Basil was a good choice.”
“Thanks, Eddie.” They had flown the first few days’ shooting back to L.A. Rick intended to do that once a week. The editor was working at the studio, so by the time they got home he would have assembled a rough cut.
Rick started up the stairs, then he remembered. He went back to the phone, called the operator and placed a call to Sid Brooks’s home.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Sid, it’s Rick.”
“You’ve got a phone!”
“Yes, we do. I heard about your telegram to Alice, and I’m sorry. You were friends, weren’t you, going back to New York?”
“That’s right, though I hadn’t seen as much of him since we both came out here. I had dinner with Al the night before, and he was morose, got very drunk. I took him home, and, apparently, he got up during the night and cut his throat.”
“God, that’s awful. Did this have something to do with the hearings?”
“Yes, it did. Can I tell you something in confidence?”
“Sure, Sid.”
“Al had decided to be a friendly witness before the committee; he was going to name names but ones that the committee already knew about.”
Rick wanted to ask if Sid was one of them, but he didn’t. “That’s terrible, and I have the feeling that Alan is only the first casualty.”
“My phone’s been ringing all day,” Sid said. “We’re getting together a memorial service at Temple Emanuel in Beverly Hills.”
“May the studio send flowers?”
“Some of us have spread the word to make donations to our defense committee instead, but I don’t expect Centurion to do that, Rick; it’s just for individuals.”
“Was Alan a member of Temple Emanuel?”
“Yes, though not a very observant one.”
“We’ll make a quiet donation to the synagogue in his memory, then.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you, Rick.”
“Sid, are you all right? That’s a serious question. I want to know.”
“I’m shaken up some, but I’m all right. Don’t worry, Rick; I’m not going to do anything stupid.”
“If Alice wants to go home now, I’ll get her on an airplane. We’re sending the exposed stock back once a week; there’s one going in the morning.”
“Thanks. I’ll let you know.”
Rick gave him the new phone number. “Call me, if there’s anything you need.”
“Thank you, Rick.”
They said good-bye and hung up. Rick trudged up the stairs, tired and a little depressed.
21
Vance Calder had just gotten out of a bath and was standing at the bathroom sink, naked, shaving. The bathroom door opened, and Vance turned to see Susan Stafford standing in the doorway.
“Hi, Susie,” he said.
Her eyes were not on his. “Sorry, Vance. Didn’t know you were in there.” She started to close the door.
“Come on in and run yourself a bath,” he said, then went back to shaving. She closed the door behind her and turned on the taps. He glanced in the mirror and saw her take off her robe. “You were great in that scene this afternoon,” he said.
“Thanks, Vance. So were you. Rick told me you’re English; I was astonished.”
Vance grinned. “I’ve been sta
ying in character since I got here, working on the accent. I’ve hung around some with the cowboys and wranglers on the place, had supper at their bunkhouse a couple of times. That helped.”
“How old are you?” she asked.
He glanced in the mirror, but he couldn’t see her. He thought she must be sitting on the edge of the tub. “None of your fucking business,” he said, laughing. He splashed water on his face, pulled the plug and reached for a towel. Susie was tall and slender, with not very large breasts. He’d heard a rumor that she had a girlfriend back in L.A. and that she wasn’t interested in men. He didn’t believe it. When she spoke again, her voice was closer.
“What about the business of fucking?” she asked from somewhere around the nape of his neck.
He felt her press against his back, and her arms went around him, one hand on his belly. She reached down and let the hand brush across his crotch. He turned around, and she climbed him like a tree, until her knees were resting on the edge of the sink.
“Seeing as it’s you,” he said, “we’re open for business.”
She reached down and took him in her hand, then slid him inside her. “Yes, we are,” she said.
Vance took hold of her slim buttocks and helped her move. She was making sweet little noises that he loved, and they remained in that position until she came, but he held back.
“Your tub is going to run over,” he said.
“Then we’d better get into it,” she replied.
The two of them nearly made the tub overflow.
“Archimedes would be proud,” he said.
She laughed and snuggled into his shoulder, holding his balls in her hand. “I think I’m older than you,” she said.
“How old are you?”
“None of your fucking business.”
Vance had learned nearly everything he knew about sex from a leading lady with whom he had lived for three months on a tour of the English midlands with a play. He had seen her passport, so he had known that she was forty but never let her know he knew, since he had been sixteen at the time. “That’s okay with me,” he said. “I tend to think of people I like as being about my age, no matter how old they are.”
“A good practice,” she said. “Do you like me?”
“I admired you from the moment we rehearsed our first scene,” he said. “Now, I like you, too.”
“Can you tap-dance?” she asked.
“Is that a euphemism?”
She laughed. “I tend to call things what they are and not employ euphemisms. I mean, can you tap-dance?”
“As it happens, yes. I learned from an old music hall performer—that’s the English version of vaudeville—during a tour of a play we did together.”
“Do you sing?”
“I’m untrained, but I do.”
“Some of the cast are talking about doing a show for everybody on our last night on location. Why don’t you and I work up a number together?”
“I think we’ve already worked up a number together,” he replied, cupping a breast in his hand and pinching her nipple.
“Well, yes, but I don’t think we’d better do this for an audience. People might talk.”
He laughed loudly. “Yeah, I guess they would, wouldn’t they? What sort of number did you have in mind?”
“Well, being a Brit, you must know ‘Burlington Bertie.’ That’s music hall, isn’t it?”
“It is, and it’s one of the numbers my friend taught me. I can choreograph it for us.”
“Like Fred Astaire and Judy Garland?”
“Better.”
“I expect wardrobe could come up with some costumes.”
“I expect so,” he agreed.
“Let’s keep it a secret, though; we’ll surprise everybody.”
“Where will we rehearse?”
“Late at night, in my room,” she said.
“Sounds perfect.”
“No, this is perfect,” she said, climbing on top of him and guiding him inside her again.
“I can’t argue with that,” Vance said.
This time they both climaxed.
That night before dinner, when they had kissed the girls good night, Rick told Glenna about his conversation with Susan Stafford about Vance. “It’s nice that she likes him,” he said.
“Yes, it is, and he likes her, too.”
“He told you so?”
“He didn’t have to; they were fucking in the bathroom an hour ago.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Nope. I caught a glimpse of her walking in on him while he was shaving, and he was stark naked. And then the door closed.”
“Wow.”
“They were in the tub together, too; I could hear the sloshing. They must have got a lot of water on the floor.”
“I guess it’s the old fuck-your-costar-on-location tradition.”
“Could be. I’ll bet they’ll sit next to each other at dinner tonight.”
“Well, it’s nice that they have a diversion while we’re here; makes for a happier shoot, I think.”
“It does, if they continue to get along,” Glenna said. “If they don’t, then your job could get a lot tougher.”
“Ow,” Rick said. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Better watch for signs,” Glenna said. “You don’t want one or both of them stalking off the set if there’s a tiff.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Rick said.
“You know, it’s a while since you and I have had a bath together,” Glenna said.
“Let’s remedy that after dinner.”
“It’s a date.”
Vance and Susie sat next to each other at dinner.
22
Sid Brooks was packing for the trip to Washington when the phone rang. “Hello?”
“It’s Alice.”
“Finally.”
“There’s been a line for the use of the phones.”
“How’s the shoot going?”
“Fine. You’ll be pleased with how your lines sound. How was Alan’s memorial service?”
“It was about what you’d expect: the nineteen unfriendly witnesses were all there but not more than a couple of dozen other people, none of them well-known to the public. No actors, no writers, no producers or directors; no representatives of the studios.”
“I’m not surprised. When are you off to Washington?”
“I’m being picked up in an hour.”
“Are you still determined to be an unfriendly witness, Sid?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Isn’t that what caused Alan to kill himself?”
“No, I think it was his decision to be a friendly witness that made him do that. He was going to name me, among others. He said he had made a deal to name only people the committee already knew about.”
“So the committee knows about you?”
“Apparently so.”
“Sid, if you refuse to talk they’re going to destroy you.”
“No, they won’t; they’ll just convict us of contempt of Congress, then we’ll appeal and the Supreme Court will overturn the convictions. Then it will be over.”
“Over? Do you seriously believe that?”
“What else can the committee do to us?”
“Not the committee; the industry. Nobody’s going to give you work, if you do this. You’ll be branded forever as a Communist.”
“A lot of people will still give me work; there are sympathetic employers in town, you know.”
“You’re deluding yourself, Sid. You’ll be destroyed, and that will destroy us.”
“How will that destroy us?”
“I’m not a Communist, Sid, and I don’t want to be thought of as one. If you’re shunned in the community, I’ll be shunned, too, don’t you see?”
“Alice, I have some more packing to do, so let’s talk about this when I’m back from Washington. It shouldn’t be more than a week.”
“Good-bye, Sid, and good luck; you’re going to need it from now on.”
She hung up.
Sid hung up, too, then the phone rang again. “Hello?”
“Sid, it’s Hy Greenbaum.” Hy was his agent and a powerful one.
“Good morning, Hy.”
“You’re off to Washington this morning?”
“In less than an hour.”
“We have to talk, Sid.”
“Okay, let’s talk.”
“I had a meeting early this morning with the chief investigator of HUAC.”
“I’ll bet that was a nice chat.”
“Did you know that Alan James was going to testify as a friendly witness?”
“Yes, he told me at dinner the night before he killed himself.”
“Did he mention that he was going to name half a dozen people?”
“Yes.”
“Did he mention that you were one of them?”
“Yes.”
“And you understand that means the committee already knows about you from some other source?”
“I understand that; all the people Alan was going to name are known to the committee to be party members.”
“Sid, if you walk into that hearing you’re going to be walking into a buzz saw.”
“I don’t think so, Hy; we’ve talked this through with our lawyers, and we think the Supreme Court will back us in this.”
“And what about when you get back out here? Do you think the studios are going to back you?”
“I think they’ll remain neutral.”
“Sid, I talked to two studio heads this morning. They’re leaving tomorrow for New York. There’s going to be a meeting of all the studio heads at the Waldorf in a few days, and the consensus is, they’re going to institute a blacklist.”
“But Hy, Eric Johnston, the head of their group, the Motion Picture Association, has already said publicly there will never be a blacklist.”
“Johnston doesn’t have a vote. I’m telling you what’s going to happen.”
“I can’t believe they’ll do that to us; we make them too much money, and that’s all they care about.”
“Sid there are other interests working hard to convince them that employing you or any of the unfriendly witnesses will cost them money. If they believe that, how do you think they will act?”
“Hy, I’m already committed to this.”
“Sid, there’s a way out for you. You can come out of this untainted if you’ll just listen to me.”