The Carpetbaggers

by Robbins, Harold

"Oh, two, maybe three hundred thousand. You've got to make sure of a year's run. It takes that long for a magazine to catch on."

  "A magazine like that depends on the kind of editor you have, doesn't it? The right kind of editor and you got it made."

  "That's entirely correct, boy," he said heartily. "And I have the finest group of editors in the business. I see you know the publishing business, Jonas. I'm always interested in a fresh point of view. That's what makes the news."

  "Who's going to be your feature editor?"

  "Why, Jonas," he said in wide-eyed innocence. "I thought you knew. The little lady you had dinner with last night, of course."

  I started to laugh. I couldn't help it. The old bastard was smarter than I figured. He even had spies planted in "21."

  After he left, I turned to McAllister. "I don't really have to stay here to sign those Engel papers, do I?"

  He looked at me sharply. "I don't suppose so. Why?"

  "I want to go to the Coast," I said. "Here I'm about to make a picture. What am I doing in New York, getting nothing done?"

  "David and Bonner are here. They've been waiting for a call from you."

  "Get David on the phone for me." A moment later, he handed me the telephone. "Hello, David. How's Rosa?"

  "She's fine, Jonas, and very happy."

  "Good," I said. "I just wanted to tell you what a great job I thought you did on that stock bit. Look, I don't feel right hanging around New York while I'm trying to get The Sinner ready. I'm going to shove off for the Coast."

  "But, Jonas. I brought Bonner into New York."

  "That's fine," I said. "But you get him back to the studio and tell him I'll see him there. That's the only place to handle a picture."

  "O.K., Jonas," he said, a faint disappointment in his voice. "You flying out?"

  "Yeah. I think I can make the ICA two-o'clock flight. That way, I'll be in California tomorrow morning."

  "Give Rosa a call, will you, Jonas? She'd be pleased to hear from you."

  "I will, David," I said. "By the way, how do I get in touch with that Jennie Denton? I think I ought at least to meet the girl who's going to play the lead in The Sinner."

  "She's in Palm Springs, at the Tropical Flower Hotel, registered under the name of Judy Belden."

  "Thanks, David," I said. "Good-by."

  "Have a safe trip, Jonas."

  It was 11:30 a.m., California time, the next day, when I parked my convertible in the driveway of the Tropical Flower Hotel in Palm Springs. I checked at the desk and walked down to Cottage No. 5. When I knocked on the door, there was no answer. But the door was unlocked, so I walked in. "Miss Denton?" I called.

  There was no answer. Then I heard the shower running in the bathroom. I walked through and opened the bathroom door. I could see the outline of her body against the opaque shower curtain. She was singing in a low, husky voice.

  I closed the bathroom door behind me and sat down on the can. I lit a cigarette while I watched her through the shower curtain. I didn't have to wait long.

  She turned off the water and I could hear her sniff at the cigarette smoke. Her voice, from behind the curtain, was calm. "If that's one of the bellboys waiting out there, he'd better go before I come out," she said, "or I report him to the desk."

  I didn't answer.

  She stuck her head through the shower curtain, groping for a towel. I reached over and put one in her hand. Through the curtain, I could see her wrap it around herself, then the curtain slid back and she stared at me. Her eyes were dark gray and unafraid. "The bellboys in this hotel are the worst," she said. "They walk in on you at the oddest times."

  "You could try locking your door."

  She stepped out of the tub. "What for? They all have passkeys."

  I got to my feet. "Jennie Denton?"

  "It's Judy Belden on the register." A questioning look came over her face. "You the law?"

  I shook my head. "No. I'm Jonas Cord."

  She looked up at me, a slow smile spreading over her face. "Well, hey! I've been waiting to meet you."

  I smiled back at her. "What for?"

  She came very close to me and reached up to put her arms around my neck. She drew my face down and the towel slipped from her body to the floor as she stretched up to her tiptoes and kissed me. Then she leaned her head back and looked up at me with mischievous, laughing eyes.

  "Boss," she whispered, "ain't it about time you signed my contract?"

  6

  It was the same bungalow office I'd used ten years ago, when we were making The Renegade. Nothing had changed except the secretaries. "Good morning, Mr. Cord," they trilled in unison as I came in.

  I said good morning and walked through to my office. Bonner was pacing up and down nervously. Dan Pierce was seated on the long couch underneath the window. I looked at him for a moment, then without speaking, walked behind my desk and sat down.

  "I asked Pierce to come over and help convince you," Bonner said. "You can't make a picture costing this much without a name."

  "Dan couldn't convince me to go to the can if I had the runs."

  "Wait a minute, Jonas," Dan said quickly. "I know how you feel. But believe me, I'm only looking out for your good."

  I turned to him. "Like you did when you sold your stock to Sheffield without checking with me?"

  "The stock was mine," he said hotly. "I didn't have to check with anybody. Besides, who could get in touch with you? Everybody knew that you didn't give a damn about the company, that you were unloading part of your own stock."

  I reached for a cigarette. After a moment, I nodded. "You're right, Dan," I said. "The stock was yours; you didn't owe me anything. You did your job and I paid you for it – in full, for the five years your contract still had to run." I leaned back in the chair and dragged on the cigarette. "I just made a mistake. You were a good agent when I met you. I should have left well enough alone."

  "I'm trying to keep you from making another mistake, Jonas. When the script of The Sinner was written, it was a vehicle for a big star – Rina Marlowe. She was the biggest there was. You can't just take a girl with no experience, and who nobody's heard of, and put her in a picture without stars to support her. They'll laugh you out of the theater."

  I looked up quizzically. "What do you think I ought to do, then?"

  I could see the quick look of confidence come into his eyes. "Get a couple of big names," he said. "Use the girl if you want but back her up. Bogart. Tracy. Colman. Gable. Flynn. Any one of them insures it for you."

  "I suppose you can get them for me?"

  He missed the sarcasm. "I think I could help," he said cautiously.

  "Well, bless your little bleeding, ten-per-centing heart. That's very kind of you." I got to my feet. "Get out, Dan. Get out before I throw you out. And don't ever come back on this lot while I’m on it."

  He stared at me, his face turning white. "You can't talk to me like that," he blustered. "I’m not one of your flunkies who you can buy and sell."

  "I bought you and I sold you," I said coldly. "You're the same guy you were when you tried to dump Nevada's show for Buffalo Bill's. You'd sell your own mother if there was anything in it for you. But you're not selling me any more. I'm not buying."

  I pressed the buzzer on my desk and one of the secretaries came in. "Yes, Mr. Cord?" she asked from the open doorway.

  "Mr. Pierce was just leaving- "

  Dan's face was livid with rage. "You'll regret this, Jonas."

  The door slammed behind him and I turned to Bonner. "I'm sorry, Jonas," he stammered. "I- didn't know- "

  "That's O.K.," I said easily. "You didn't know."

  "But the way the picture is shaping up now, it's going over three million dollars. I’d feel better if we had some stars in it."

  I shook my head. "Stars are great, I’m not fighting them. But not this time. We're doing a story based on the Bible. When somebody looks up at that screen at John or Peter, I want them to see John or Peter, not Gable, Tracy or B
ogart. Besides, the girl is the important thing."

  "But nobody ever heard of the girl."

  "So what?" I asked. "What have we got a publicity department for? By the time this picture comes out, there won't be a man, woman or child in the world who won't know her name. You thought enough of her to make the test, didn't you? And all you knew about her was that she was a girl you met at a party."

  A curiously embarrassed look came over Bonner's face. "That was different. It was almost a gag. I never thought anybody would take it seriously."

  "David saw the test and took it seriously. So did I."

  "But a test isn't a whole picture. Maybe she can't sustain- "

  I cut him short. "She'll sustain," I said. "And you know it. You knew it when you asked her to make the test."

  He looked at me with his ugly horse face. Nervously his hand scratched at himself. "She- she told you about the party?" he asked hesitantly.

  I nodded. "She told me how you'd watched her all evening, how you came over and asked her to take the test." I laughed. "You guys beat me. You find a Lana Turner at a soda fountain. You find Jennie at a dinner party. How do you do it?"

  A puzzled look came into his eyes. He started to say something but the telephone on my desk rang. I picked it up. It was one of the secretaries. "Miss Denton is finished in Hairdressing. Do you want her to come down?"

  "Yes." I put down the phone and turned back to Bonner. "I sent Jennie up to Hairdressing. I had an idea I wanted to try out."

  The door opened and Jennie came in. She moved slowly, almost hesitantly, to the center of the office. She stopped in front of my desk. She spun slowly, her long hair no longer a pale brown but a sparkling champagne. It swirled down around her neck and shoulders, spilling a translucent radiance around her tanned face.

  Bonner's voice was an eerie whisper. "My God!"

  I looked at him. There was a strange look on his face. His lips moved silently, his eyes were fixed on her. "It's as if- as if she was standing here."

  "That's right," I said slowly. I looked back up at Jennie. I began to feel a pressure in my heart. Rina.

  "I want Ilene Gaillard to dress her," I said softly to Bonner.

  "I don't know," he said. "She's retired. She's moved back East. Boston, I think."

  I remembered the forlorn, white-haired figure kneeling by Rina's grave. "Send her a picture of Jennie. She'll come."

  Bonner walked over to the desk and stood next to Jennie, looking down at me. "By the way, I heard from Austin Gilbert. He likes the script. He's coming over to see the test this afternoon. If he likes the girl, he'll do the picture."

  "Good," I said. That was the way it was with big directors. The two hundred grand you paid them meant nothing; they could get that on any picture. The important thing was the script. And the players.

  Bonner walked to the door and stood there a moment, looking back at Jennie. "So long," he said finally.

  "Good-by, Mr. Bonner," Jennie said politely.

  I nodded as he went out the door.

  "Can I sit down now?" Jennie asked.

  "Help yourself."

  She sat down and watched silently as I ran through the papers on my desk. The preliminary budget. Set-construction estimates. Bonner was right – this was going to cost money.

  "Do I have to look like her?" Jennie asked softly.

  I glanced up. "What?"

  "Do I have to look like her?"

  "Why do you ask?"

  She shook her head. "I don't know. I just feel funny, that's all. Like it's not me, any more. Like I'm a ghost."

  I didn't answer.

  "Is that all you saw in the test – Rina Marlowe?"

  "She was the biggest thing ever to hit the screen."

  "I know," she said slowly. "But I'm not her. I could never be."

  I stared at her. "For two thousand dollars a week," I said, "you'll be whatever I tell you to be."

  She didn't answer. Just looked at me. Her eyes were masked and somber and I couldn't tell what she was thinking. "You remember that," I said quietly. "A thousand girls like you come to Hollywood every year. I could take my pick of any of them. If you don't like it, go back to what you were doing before Bonner saw you at that party."

  A kind of caution came into her eyes. It wouldn't hurt to have her a little afraid of me. She was entirely too cocky. "Bonner told you about me?"

  "Not a word. He didn't have to. You told me all I needed to know. Girls like you are always looking for a producer to impress. Well, you were lucky – you got one. Don't louse it up."

  She let her breath out slowly. The cautious look had gone out of her eyes. Suddenly, she smiled. "O.K., massa, anything you say."

  I walked around the desk, and pulled her up into my arms. Her mouth was soft and warm and when I looked down, her eyes were closed. And then the damn telephone rang. I reached around behind her and picked it up. It was McAllister, calling from New York.

  "That agency located Winthrop for you," he said.

  "Good. Get in touch with him and tell him to get his ass out here."

  "Their man says he won't come."

  "Then call Monica and have her talk to him. He'll listen to her."

  "I did," Mac said quickly. "But she's already left for California, on the Twentieth Century, this noon. If you want him, you'd better do it yourself."

  "I'm too busy to come running back to New York."

  "You don't have to. Amos is in Chicago. The agency office out there will tell you how to locate him."

  "Chicago? Well, I guess I’ll have to go after him." I put down the telephone and looked at Jennie. "The weekend's coming up," she said softly. "I'm not doing anything. Chicago's a great town."

  "You'll come?" I asked.

  She nodded. "We'll fly, won't we?"

  "All the way," I said.

  7

  Jennie looked at me. "This is the way to travel," she said. "A whole plane to ourselves."

  I looked around the empty cabin of the ICA that Buzz had put on special flight for me when I had called. I checked my watch. It was almost nine o'clock. I moved it forward two hours to Chicago time. I felt the slight change of pressure in my ears. We were starting to come down.

  "It must be great to own an airline," Jennie said, smiling.

  "It comes in handy when you have to get someplace in a hurry."

  "I don't get you."

  ''What don't you get, girl?"

  "You," Jennie said. "You baffle me. Most guys I understand. They got their eye on the ball and they're always for making points. But you, you're different. You already got everything."

  "Not everything."

  She nodded at the lights of Chicago below us. "By that, I suppose you mean you don't own what's down there."

  "That's right. I don't want much though, I'm satisfied just owning what's in here."

  Her eyes grew cloudy. "What happens if we go boom?"

  I snapped my fingers. "What the hell! Easy come, easy go."

  "Just like that?"

  "Just like that."

  She glanced out of the window for a moment, then turned back to me. "I guess you do own me in a kind of way."

  "I wasn't talking about you," I said. "I was talking about this plane."

  "I know, but all the same, it's true. You do own everybody who works for you, even if you don't feel you do. Money does that."

  "Money does lots of things for me," I said.

  "Why don't you let it buy you a pair of shoes?"

  I looked down at my stockinged feet. "Don't worry," I said. "I got shoes. They're somewhere on this plane."

  She laughed, then became serious again. "Money can buy you time. It also lets you make people over, into what you want them to be."

  I raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know you were a philosopher as well as an actress."

  "You don't know that I'm an actress – yet."

  "You better be," I said. "Otherwise, I'm going to look awful foolish."

  Again, her eyes were serious. "Y
ou wouldn't like that, would you?"

  "Nobody likes it," I said. "I'm no different than anybody else."

  "Then why do you do it, Jonas? You don't need to. You don't need the money. What do you want to make pictures for?"

  I leaned my head back against the seat. "Maybe because I want them to remember me for something else besides gunpowder, airplanes and plastic dishes."

  "They'll remember you longer for that than a movie.

  "Will they?" I turned my head to look at her. "How do you remember a man? Because of the thrill he gave you? Or because he built the tallest building in the world?"

  "You remember all those things," she said softly. "If those were the things he did."

  "You are a philosopher. I didn't think you understood men so well."

  She laughed. "I’ve been a woman all my life. And men are the first thing a girl tries to understand."

  I felt the wheels touch and we were on the ground. Unconsciously I felt myself leaning forward against the wheel to keep her from bucking. Then I relaxed. Habit was a funny thing. You landed every plane, whether you were at the controls or not.

  Jennie shivered and pulled her thin coat around her as the first cold blast of air came through the open door. There was snow on the ground as we walked across the landing strip to the terminal.

  A chauffeur stopped me, his hand touching his cap respectfully. "Your car's right outside, Mr. Cord."

  Jennie was still shivering as we got into the car. "I forgot how cold winter can be," she said.

  In forty-five minutes, we were at the Drake Hotel. The assistant manager greeted us at the door. "Good to see you again, Mr. Cord. Your apartment is all ready. Your office called from the Coast." He snapped his fingers and an elevator appeared by magic. We sped up with him in solitary splendor.

  "I took the liberty of ordering a hot supper for you, Mr. Cord."

  "Thank you, Carter," I said. "That was thoughtful of you."

  Carter held open the apartment door. A small table was set up in the dining alcove and there were fresh, gleaming bottles on the bar.

  "If you'll just call down when you're ready, Mr. Cord, we'll send it right up."

  "Give us a few minutes to wash up, Carter," I said.