“You poor guy,” I said to myself. “I feel so sorry for you.”
Then I pressed the starter and drove to the Writers’ Club.
The usual crowd was not in the club today. I said hello to the steward and went into the bar.
“A double Scotch,” I said, pulling up a stool and sitting down.
“Yes, Mr. Thurston,” the bartender said. “Would you like a little ice?”
“Listen,” I leaned forward, “if I wanted ice, I’d ask for ice. I don’t want a lot of talk from you or anyone else.”
“Certainly, Mr. Thurston,” he said, going red.
I drank the whisky neat and shoved the glass back at him. “I’ll have it again without ice and without a lot of talk. You don’t even have to mention the weather.”
“Certainly, Mr. Thurston.”
If I did not sell Gold my story I would be like this guy before long. I would be so hard up for money that I would have to take anything anyone liked to hand out to mc.
I finished my whisky. “Fill it up again.”
Just then Peter and Frank Imgram came in.
It was too bad that they had to come in at that moment because I was very angry and rather drunk. I got off my stool.
Peter smiled at me. “Hello there, Clive,” he said. “Have one with me? You know Frank Imgram, don’t you?”
I know him all right.
“Sure,” I said and took a step backwards and got into position. “The Hollywood gossip writer, isn’t he?” And I let Imgram have it, full in the mouth. He fell back and gurgled and reached fingers in his mouth to keep from choking on his bridgework. He may have written The Land is Barren, but his teeth weren’t his own. That was something I had over him.
I didn’t wait to see what happened. I just walked out of the bar. I went through the lobby and into the street. I got into my car and started the engine. I had to control myself because I wanted to go back and hit the little louse again. I wanted to hit him again so badly that I ached behind my eyes and nose and at the back of my neck.
I thought: Merle Bensinger, Carol, dear, sweet Carol and now Frank Imgram . . . possibly Peter Tennett. They would all hate my guts now. I was certainly making a mess of things. If I went on like this I would be getting quite a name for myself.
I drove fast down Sunset Boulevard. In a few days, perhaps, no one would want to talk to me. Perhaps I would have to resign from the Club. Never mind, I said to myself, you still have Eve. I slowed down, because I suddenly wanted to talk to Eve. That was something no one was going to do anything about. They might stop me from beating up Imgram, but they certainly would not stop me telephoning Eve.
I pulled up outside a drugstore, left my car and went in.
I had trouble with the dial. I was tighter than I thought. I mis-dialled three times before I got it right. By that time I was sweating and angry.
Marty came on the line.
“Miss Marlow,” I said.
“Who is that?”
What the hell was it to do with her? Why didn’t Eve answer the telephone herself? Did she think I wanted to talk to her servant every time I called? Did she think I wanted to give my name to a servant who would tell the milkman, the iceman and all the guys she got drunk with?
“The man in the moon,” I said, “that’s who it is.”
There was a pause, then she said, “I’m sorry, but Miss Marlow’s out.”
“No, she isn’t,” I said, angrily. “Not at this time, she isn’t. Tell her I want to talk to her.”
“What name shall I give?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Mr. Clive . . . now are you happy?”
“I’m so sorry, but Miss Marlow’s engaged.”
“Engaged?” I repeated stupidly. “But it’s not yet two o’clock. How can she be engaged?”
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I will tell her you called.”
“Now wait a minute,” I said, feeling sick and empty, “you mean she has some guy with her?”
“I will tell her you called,” Marty said and hung up. I dropped the receiver and left it swinging on its cord. I felt like hell.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I CAME out of a heavy sleep to find Russell drawing the curtains. I sat up with a groan, aware that my head was aching and my tongue was like a strip of leather.
“Mr. Tennett’s asking to see you, sir,” Russell said, plodding over to stand at the foot of the bed. His fat face was full of foreboding.
Then I remembered Imgram.
“Oh hell,” I said, flopping back on my pillow. “What’s the time?”
“It’s just after ten thirty.” He continued to look accusingly at me.
“Do come off your highhorse, Russell,” I exclaimed. “I suppose you’ve heard what happened at the Writers’ Club?”
“I did, sir,” he said, compressing his lips. “I am very sorry to hear about it.”
“I bet you are,” I said, wishing my head did not ache so violently. I must have got pretty drunk when I had returned to the apartment. I could not even remember going to bed. “The little louse asked for it.”
Russell cleared his throat. “Mr. Tennett’s waiting, sir,” he reminded me.
I groaned. “Very well. Tell him to wait. But I’ve no idea what he can do. I don’t think there’s anything anyone can do.”
When he had gone away, I got up and crawled into the bathroom. A cold shower eased my aching head. After I had shaved, I mixed myself a brandy and soda and by the time I had dressed I felt more myself.
I found Peter in the sitting room.
“Hello,” I said, going to the sideboard and mixing myself another brandy and soda. “I was sleeping. Sorry to have kept you waiting.”
“That’s all right,” he said.
“Drink?”
He shook his head.
I came over and sat down on the settee near him. There was an awkward pause. We looked at each other and then looked away.
“It’s about Imgram of course?” I said.
“Well, yes, it’s about Imgram. I suppose you were tight?”
“Do I have to defend myself?” I demanded, trying to keep calm about the whole thing, but feeling my temper rising.
“Don’t think I’m here to criticize,” he said quickly. “Although I must admit I’m surprised you could have done such a thing. I came to tell you that Gold intends to sue you.”
I stared at him. “Gold intends to sue me?” I repeated. That was something I had not expected to hear.
Peter nodded. “I’m afraid so. You see Imgram’s hurt. He won’t be able to work for some days. The delay’s going to cost the Studio money and Gold’s furious.”
I felt a sudden stab of satisfaction. At least, I had hurt the little louse,” I see,” I said.
“I thought I’d better come round and talk to you,” Peter went on. He was uneasy and embarrassed and I could see by his expression that he found the whole business very distasteful. “R.G. say it’ll cost him a hundred thousand.”
“Quite an expensive punch,” I returned, feeling suddenly cold and scared. “He wasn’t thinking of suing me for that amount, was he?”
“Technically speaking, he couldn’t sue you at all. Imgram would have to do that,” Peter explained. He stared down at his perfectly polished shoes, then added, “R.G.”s seen Imgram.”
“So he’s seen Imgram.” I drank half the brandy and soda. It did not taste so good. “And Imgram’s going to sue me for a hundred thousand dollars? I don’t think he’ll get the money.”
Peter carefully touched off his cigarette ash with his little finger. “Imgram won’t sue you,” he said. “He told Gold he wouldn’t.”
I put my glass down. “What’s the idea?”
“I don’t know,” Peter said frankly. “I think I would have sued you. It was a pretty filthy thing to do, wasn’t it, Clive?”
I waved that aside. “Do you mean he’s turning the other cheek?”
Peter nodded. “Something like that.”
I
got to my feet. “Why the greasy little beast!” I exclaimed furiously. “He can’t treat me like that. Let him sue! Do you think I care? Do you think I care what he does?”
“Look here, Clive, you’d better sit down. You’ve done enough harm as it is without adding to it. What’s the matter with you? Do you realize that Carol’s gone to pieces?”
I stood over him. “Now look, Peter, I don’t have to take anything from you. That’s one thing I am sure of. So keep out of this. Keep right out of it.”
“I wish I could,” Peter said, lifting his hands in a despairing gesture. “Do you think I like any of it? You don’t seem to realize how serious this is. You’re up against Gold. Anything that effects Gold affects the Studio. That punch has caused a lot of trouble. I don’t know why you did it. Probably you had every reason for punching Imgram. I don’t know and I don’t want to know. It’s done now and it’s upset our working schedule. To add to our troubles, Carol’s gone haywire. She can’t concentrate and I believe you’re at the bottom of it all.”
I sat down again. “It looks as if everything’s going to be blamed on to me,” I said bitterly. “What the hell am I going to do?”
“I think you’d better get out of town for a few days,” Peter said. “Can’t you go to Three Point? I don’t want you to run into R.G . . . . not in his present mood. You see Imgram won’t take any action and we’re trying to persuade R.G. to leave you alone. At the moment, Clive, he’s after your blood.”
If that’s the way he’s feeling, I thought, then it looks like curtains for my film script.
“I can’t leave town just now,” I said, after a moment’s thought. “I’ve too much on hand, but I’ll be careful to keep out of his way.”
Peter looked worried. “It’ll probably work out,” he said, getting to his feet. “I’d better be getting over to the Studio. We’re in a frightful mess at the moment and R.G.”s like a bear with a sore head. Be a good chap and lie low for a few days.”
“I will,” I promised. “By the way, Peter, you know I’m working on a story for Gold. Do you think this’ll upset it?”
Peter shrugged. “It may. It depends how long we are held up. If it blows over quickly and the story’s good, then it should be all right. R.G.’s a business man. He’s not likely to pass up a good story. But it has, of course, to be outstanding.”
“Yes.” I walked with him to the door, feeling depressed and worried. I began to realize what a fool I had been to have punched Imgram. It might easily influence my future career.
“Can you do anything about Carol?” Peter asked abruptly.
“I guess not.”
He looked steadily at me and I felt suddenly ashamed.
“She loves you, Clive,” he said quietly. “She’s a great kid and she doesn’t deserve to be treated like this. There was a time when I thought you two were serious about each other. I know it’s not my business, but I hate seeing her go to pieces.”
I didn’t say anything.
He stood hesitating, then said with a little shrug, “Well, I’m sorry. Perhaps she’ll get over it. Good-bye, Clive. Lie low for a while. I’m sure it’ll blow over if you’re careful.”
“Sure,” I said. “And thanks for coming.”
When he had gone I returned to the sitting room and had another drink. I wanted to go to Carol, but, somehow I just could not bring myself to face her. I had hurt her and was sure that if I went to her now, my task would be much harder than if I gave her time to recover. Besides, I had too much on my mind. I was not worried about Imgram, but I was worried about Gold. He could be dangerous if he wanted to be. I sat down and thought about it. Perhaps I should see him and try to explain, but I finally decided that Peter knew best. I would have to make up my mind to keep out of sight until things quieted down.
I looked angrily round the big sitting room, knowing that I could not bear the idea of spending day after day caged in these four walls. I would go mad. It was not as if I could settle down with a book as I did in the old days. Hollywood had made me restless and the thought of being alone, even for a few hours, was intolerable.
I glanced at my watch. It was eleven forty-five. Then I thought of Eve. She would be in bed — probably asleep. I knew what I was going to do. I would call on her and persuade her to have lunch with me. As soon as I had decided to do this, I felt a great surge of relief. Eve would be the solution to my loneliness. As long as I had her I did not care what happened.
I reached Laurel Canyon Drive a few minutes after noon. I pulled up outside Eve’s house, left the car and walked quickly down the path. I knocked and stood waiting.
The door was opened almost immediately and Eve stood there, blinking in the strong sunlight. She stared at me. “Clive!” she said and giggled. “I thought you were the milkman.” She had obviously just got out of bed. Her hair was ruffled and she was without make-up. “What on earth are you doing here at this time?”
I smiled down at her. “Hello, Eve,” I said. “I thought I’d give you a surprise. Can I come in?”
She pulled her dressing gown about her and yawned. “I was just going to take a bath. Oh Clive, you are the limit. You might, at least, have phoned.”
I followed her into her bedroom. The room smelt faintly of perfume and stale perspiration. She went over and jerked open the windows.
“Phew! It stinks in here, doesn’t it?” she said, sitting on the bed and scratching her head. “Oh I’m tired.”
I sat on the bed close to her. “You look as if you’ve had a hectic night,” I said. “What have you been up to?”
“Do I look awful?” she asked, rolling back on the pillow and stretching. “I don’t care. I don’t care about anything this morning.”
“I feel like that too. That’s why I came to see you,” I said, looking down at her white, pinched face. There were smudges under her eyes and the two lines above the bridge of her nose were very pronounced. “Let’s be bored together. Come and have lunch with me.”
She screwed up her face. “No,” she said, “I can’t be bothered.”
“Now, don’t be obstinate,” I said. “We’ll have an early lunch and then you can come back here if you want to. Come on, don’t be a crab.”
She looked up at me and there was hesitation in her eyes. “Oh I don’t know,” she said, a sulky expression darkening her face. “It’s such a bore to get dressed. No, Clive, I don’t think I will.”
I reached down and took her hands, pulling her up so that our bodies were close. “You’re coming,” I said firmly. “I want to see you in your clothes for a change. Now, what will you wear?”
She pulled away from me and slouched over to the wardrobe. “I don’t know,” she said and yawned again. “Ooh I’m tired and I don’t want to go out.”
I opened the wardrobe. Hanging from the centre rail were a half a dozen tailored suits from various patterns.
“Why not wear a dress?” I asked. “Why must you always dress so severely? I’d like to see you in something flimsy and feminine for a change.”
“At least, Clive, let me decide what suits me,” she said, pulling a pin head grey suit off the hanger. “I’ll wear this. All right?”
“Sure, now go ahead and take your bath,” I said, sitting on the bed. “I’ll smoke a cigarette and wait for you.”
“I won’t be long,” she said, closing the cupboard.
While she was upstairs in the bathroom, I wandered around the little room. I opened drawers, glanced inside, then closed them. I moved the glass animals and in doing so I thought about her husband. There was a dark secret atmosphere about the room and I could not help thinking of the many men who came here. Secretive, furtive men who would be ashamed if their friends knew where they had been.
I was worried by these thoughts and I began to feel angry and frustrated. I hated to think that so many men shared Eve with me. The whole atmosphere of the room finally became so unbearable that I went into the passage and called to her to hurry.
“I’m coming,”
she said. “Don’t be so impatient!”
At this moment I heard the front door open and Marty came in.
She gave me a quick, surprised look and then she smiled. “Good morning, sir,” she said. “It’s a lovely morning, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I returned, not looking at her.
I hated seeing her. I hated her servile, knowing expression. I wondered if Eve told her about me. I wondered if these two women discussed the men who came to this little house and whether they sniggered about them. I could not stay in the same room with this woman, suspecting that sometimes she sniggered about me.
“Tell Miss Marlow I’ll be in the car,” I said curtly and let myself out of the house.
Eve joined me in less than half an hour. She was smart and trim, but in the hard sunlight I thought she looked older and a little tired.
I opened the car door and she slid in. We looked at each other.
“Do I look all right?”
I smiled at her. “Wonderful.”
“Don’t lie. Do I really look all right?”
“You could go anywhere, Eve, and with anyone.”
“Do you really mean that?”
“Of course. The trouble with you is you’re ashamed of what you do,” I said, stubbing the self-starter. “That’s one of the reasons for your inferiority complex. You want it both ways, don’t you? Well, so far, it’s all right. You have nothing to worry about.”
She looked searchingly at me, decided that I was telling the truth and sank back against the cushions. “Thank you,” she said, with a little nod. “Where are we going?”
“Nikabob’s,” I said, turning into Sunset and going in the direction of Franklin. “All right?”
“Mmmm, I suppose so.”
“I tried to call you yesterday at two o’clock, but Marty said you were engaged.”
She grimaced, but did not say anything.
“You must work all day and all night,” I said, secretly torturing myself.
“Don’t let’s talk about it,” she said shortly. “I wonder why you men must always talk about it.”
“Sorry . . . I was forgetting it was shop to you.” I drove in silence for a couple of blocks and then said, “You puzzle me, Eve. You’re not really hard, are you?”
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