Contract with an Angel

by Andrew M. Greeley

  Unless they had movies in heaven.

  Most important of all, his “honeymoon” romance with Anna Maria had become more intense, more satisfying, and more challenging than he had thought could possibly exist between a man and a woman.

  Neenan was still not certain who he was or where he was going. He was still afflicted by interludes of devastating self-pity, but he usually drove off such emotions before they could cause any harm to others.

  The angels, perhaps convinced that he had reformed his life, appeared infrequently.

  On Friday night, a bitter cold evening, he and Anna Maria were sitting in front of the fireplace in their Lake Forest home sipping port and reading. They were going to try for Paris on the following weekend. The scene that night was one of comfortable domesticity at the end of a busy week before they went upstairs for another exploration of the outer fringes of human passion.

  It was as good a time as any, Neenan figured, to report the good news about Starbridge.

  He removed the manuscript from his briefcase, which leaned against his chair.

  “Good news, Anna Maria. We’re going to produce Starbridge.”

  “Produce it?” she said, suddenly furious. “You didn’t dare give it to other people to read, did you?”

  “Well,” he said apologetically, “I can’t make the decision by myself. I showed it to Joe and Vinny.”

  “You had no right to do that,” she shouted. “None at all. I gave it to you to read. I did not grant permission for you to pass it on to others.”

  “I thought you wanted us to consider it for production.”

  “Did I say that?”

  “Well, no, you didn’t, but I presumed …”

  “You had no right to presume. You should have asked me. If you had, I would have forbidden it.”

  “Then why give it to me?”

  “Because I thought I could trust you to treat it as a private document. It was wrong, terribly wrong of you to violate my confidence.”

  “We all loved it,” he said, trying to be reasonable.

  “That is totally irrelevant. It was for your eyes only.”

  “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “I shouldn’t have had to tell you that.”

  “You’ve never given me a manuscript before in such confidence.”

  She rose from her chair, snatched the thick manuscript from him, and waved it at him as if it were a weapon.

  “I never gave you a manuscript before that I had written.”

  “You didn’t tell me that you wrote it.”

  “Who did you think Marianne Swift was?”

  “I thought it might be you.”

  “Might! … Who the fuck are you trying to kid! You knew it was mine and you still showed it to others without asking my permission. How typically arrogant and oppressive!”

  Neenan knew that there was no point in arguing. He had lost the case. Still he tried to reason instead of listening, not that listening would have changed the situation in the slightest.

  “When you have given me a manuscript before,” he pleaded, “you’ve always wanted to find out whether we agreed with your judgment on whether we should produce it. I had no reason to think that this was a different situation.”

  “No reason! Didn’t the fact that it was a very personal and private document of mine suggest it was different? How did you dare to violate my privacy? I feel like you’ve raped me!”

  She strode across the room and threw the screenplay into the fire. It flamed up immediately, spreading a cloud of smoke in the room. Anna Maria poked at it furiously with a poker.

  The fire alarm system screamed in protest.

  “Shut that damn thing off!” she shouted at him.

  Obediently, Neenan turned off the alarm and called the Lake Forest emergency number to head off the fire department.

  “I’m sorry,” he said when he returned to the smoke-filled parlor. “I thought you wanted a dispassionate, objective view of it from people who didn’t know that it was written by the boss’s wife. If you had told me that it was yours and that you didn’t want me to pass it around, I would not have shown it to anyone.”

  “Sorry won’t do!”

  “What else can I say?”

  “You can’t say anything! You betrayed me! If I wanted an objective opinion I would have asked for it. You are not going to make a film out of this script. Not ever.”

  “That’s clear enough,” he said sadly.

  “I hate you!” she cried. “I hate your stupid male arrogance. I don’t want to live with you anymore.”

  She stormed out of the parlor and up the stairs to the second floor.

  Somehow she had missed the point, Neenan told himself. It was a great screenplay; she had enormous talent not only as a script reader but as a scriptwriter. Why put all the time and energy into composing such a work only to throw it into the fire because his procedure had been clumsy?

  What was he supposed to do now?

  Nothing until her Sicilian temper cooled.

  “You really blew that one.” Michael, in jogging clothes, materialized in the chair Anna Maria had vacated.

  “Apparently I did,” he replied ruefully.

  “You know how writers feel about their first work. You should have proceeded much more cautiously.”

  “So I gather … though I don’t think it would make any difference.”

  “Regardless.”

  “Is this a black mark on my record?”

  “You should follow her upstairs and beg for forgiveness,” the seraph insisted.

  “Not now, not tonight.”

  “Her anger will only increase.”

  “Look, Michael, she’s my wife. She’ll have to calm down before she’ll listen to me.”

  “This is a totally unique situation for her. You are too insensitive to realize how closely she has identified her core self with that screenplay.”

  “Are you invoking the contract?”

  “Contract? Oh, that contract. No, not yet anyway. Play it however you want. Only remember that you don’t have all that much time to effect a reconciliation.”

  “I know,” Neenan said sadly.

  “You should also realize that if you die without a reconciliation, she’ll feel guilty for the rest of her life. Do you want to be responsible for that?”

  “I didn’t start the fight,” he said defensively.

  “That’s hardly the issue, is it?”

  Then Michael vanished. Neenan was patently on his own.

  All right, I was dumb. I didn’t mean to offend her. I thought I was bringing home a pleasant surprise. He felt sorry for himself. Then he realized that was no help.

  He decided that he would go upstairs and see if she had calmed down.

  He found that she had cleared all her things out of what had become their room and shut the door to her own room. Their marital bedroom was now his again.

  He put on a sweater and a jacket and went for a long walk along the lakeshore. It didn’t help.

  She avoided him throughout the rest of the weekend.

  Well, there was surely a copy of the screenplay on her computer. Even if she should delete it, there were also two copies in his office.

  Monday morning she had disappeared from the house. Ms. Neenan had gone to the apartment on East Lake Shore Drive, Maeve told him as he drank his coffee.

  Bad news waited him at the office. A federal judge had vacated the temporary injunction against World-Corp. They were free to raid his executives, his clients, and his potential acquisitions. Tim Walsh’s recalcitrant client had hired another lawyer, a notorious manipulator who would destroy the poor man, not that he didn’t deserve destruction.

  Neenan’s phone buzzed.

  “Ms. O’Connell on the line, Mr. Neenan.”

  “O’Connell?

  “Ms. Jennifer O’Connell.”

  “Hi, Jenny,” he said brightly.

  “You miserable bastard.”

  “Huh?”

&nbs
p; “How dare you try to trick me into a reconciliation after the terrible things you’ve done to my mother through the years!”

  “I wasn’t trying to trick you into anything, Jennifer. You called me first.”

  “Only because you sent your weak little stooge out here to trick me.”

  “I didn’t know he was going to see you. I don’t think he knew either.”

  “I’ll never turn my back on Mom, never! Never! You may have fooled poor Vinny, but you’ll never fool me. I know what you are!”

  “What am I, Jennifer?”

  “You’re a bastard, a fucking asshole, a creep, a genuinely evil man! I will never speak to you again!”

  She slammed down her phone. Neenan replaced his slowly.

  “That one’s not really your fault.” Michael, in jeans and a University of Chicago sweatshirt, was sitting across from him. “Not in the present context anyway. You should have paid more attention to her when she was a kid.”

  “Would it have done any good?”

  The angel lifted his massive shoulders. “Who knows? Maybe. As it is, now she must choose between what her brother says about you and what her sainted and martyred mother has to say. In such a contest, you don’t have a chance. When you’re dead, she’ll blame herself. You’ll leave a lot of guilt feelings behind.”

  “Will I be in trouble if I say I don’t give a damn?”

  Michael burst out in a noisy, seraphic laugh. “You want to argue,” he said when he recovered from his outburst, “that you’ve done your best and that’s that?”

  Neenan became crafty; after all, he’d been dealing with angels for what seemed to have been an eternity.

  “Who does their best?”

  The seraph laughed again. “The Other loves you or we wouldn’t be here,” he said enigmatically.

  “Mr. Vincent Neenan to see you, sir.”

  A warning bell went off inside Neenan’s head. Vincent had barged in all last week without waiting to be announced. He was, after all, the COO and heir apparent. Why was he asking permission this time?

  “Thank you, Amy. Send him in.”

  His son was pale and anxious. “I’ll be up front about it, Dad. I’m resigning my position with National Entertainment to take a high-level position at World-Corp America.”

  Neenan drew a deep breath. “Well,” he said slowly, “there is a family tradition of breaking away from the father. I’m in no position to be critical. It’s your call, Vinny. Best of luck in the job.”

  Michael gasped in surprise.

  Well, just once, I’ve surprised a seraph.

  Vincent plunged ahead with his explanation, almost as though he had not heard Neenan’s initial reaction.

  “Everyone around here thinks that the only reason I got the job is that I’m your son. I’d have to live with that for the rest of my life. At WorldCorp America I will have to survive on my own skills and talent. That will be better for me and better for National Entertainment.”

  In fact, if he were not Vincent Neenan, WorldCorp would not have given him a second thought. Vincent, however, could not permit himself to consider that possibility because then his behavior would be seen as treason.

  “You have to follow your own instincts, Vinny.”

  “If I can’t cut it there, Dad, they won’t hesitate a moment to get rid of me. Here I’d have a lifetime job no matter how bad I was. You’d better change your will again. I don’t want to inherit the firm either.”

  So WorldCorp knew about the new will. If anything should happen to Neenan—and, though WorldCorp didn’t know it, something would happen—a senior executive of WorldCorp would own National Entertainment.

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll hold off on that for a while.”

  “I can’t stand,” Vincent exploded, “the look of hatred on people’s faces around here when they see me. I’m the great man’s son and I’ll never be anything else.”

  “I have no doubt some people feel that way. However, Joe and Norm polled all the senior people with an open-end question about a president and COO. You won in a landslide. I would not have voted for you, but virtually everyone else did.”

  “You should have told him that last week,” Michael insisted. “Remember that I told you to.”

  “I am not likely to forget.”

  “You’ll excuse me, Dad, if I don’t believe that story.”

  “Don’t believe?”

  “Not its implications anyway … . suppose you want me to leave right away? With the federal court order, they are free to sign me.”

  “Take your time,” Neenan sighed. “We’d hardly bring action to prevent you from starting a new career.”

  “I can never be sure, Dad, what you will do.”

  Before his son left the office, Neenan almost asked whether Megan knew of the decision. That bright young litigator would not trust WorldCorp any farther than Irving Park Road. He thought better of it and settled for a handshake, strong on his part, limp on Vinny’s.

  “The tragedy of this,” Neenan said to Michael, “is that he would have been a great success here where everyone knows him and likes him and now he’ll be a failure at WorldCorp.”

  “Doubtless. He’ll also have guilt feelings for the rest of his life.”

  “Nothing I can do about that.”

  “You have to try just the same.”

  “why?”

  “Because in a certain sense all of these problems are your fault. If you had been more sensitive to Annie and Vinny last week, these situations might not have occurred. Worse still, you created an atmosphere for most of your life in which neither of them—nor Jenny for that matter—were really capable of trusting you under pressure.”

  “It’s all my fault?”

  “I’m not excusing them,” Michael said solemnly. “Still, you must assume your own responsibility and strive to change the situation.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  For the first time in what seemed like ages, the seraph boss produced the contract.

  “I won’t change either of their minds.”

  “Probably not. You have to try, however.”

  “All right,” Neenan sighed. “In my own way and in my own time and when my instincts say I should.”

  Michael nodded impassively. “I don’t propose to dictate either strategy or tactics.”

  “That’s generous of you,” Neenan said ironically. “There’s not much hope of success.”

  “In the condition of your species there rarely is.”

  Great.

  “You let yourself be deceived by your early successes,” the angel continued grimly. “Your charm and passion and apparent generosity covered up temporarily their memories of your past failings … . Incidentally, if I were in your position, I would be wary of the possibility of your wife and your son taking Starbridge to WorldCorp.”

  “If they want to, let them,” Neenan said sadly. “If it makes them happy, it’s fine with me.”

  “More guilt feelings for them if they do,” Michael warned.

  “They’ll probably outgrow them,” Neenan said bitterly, “since they’ll figure they got their revenge on me … . What about Leonard, by the way?”

  “That situation is not sufficiently mature at the present time. However, for your wife and your daughter and your older son, the situation is critical. Their future depends on the skill of your efforts.”

  And with that solemn warning, the seraph was not there anymore.

  “And their own free will,” Neenan shouted after Michael. “I can’t force them to do anything.”

  The seraph boss, however, was certainly right. Neenan knew that he had to do something. But he had no idea what. He ought not to panic. Rather he ought to bide his time, wait for the golden opportunity, and then follow his instincts, as flawed as they might be. This was the way he had worked all his life. It was too late to change.

  He assembled his senior executives and announced that he was reassuming his post as president of the company bec
ause his son had resigned and would be taking a senior post at WorldCorp America. Their parting had been amiable and he wished Vincent success and happiness in his new job. He instructed the PR people to get out an appropriate statement, to which they should add his firm statement that National Entertainment was not for sale and never would be.

  There were only a few questions, each delicately worded.

  What about the injunction?

  It is currently vacated by order of the United States Court for the Northern District of Illinois. There is nothing to stop WorldCorp from recruiting any and all of you, if you think the ship is sinking. It’s not, but that’s up to you to judge for yourself.

  Are we going ahead with Light in the Tunnel?

  We certainly are.

  Will Jerry Carter accompany Vinny to WorldCorp?

  He hadn’t thought of that possibility. His response was that Mr. Carter would have to make his own decisions. He is an extremely talented young man, but by no means the only gifted young director in Hollywood.

  Are the rumors about the miniseries true?

  One is pending, yes.

  Is there any hope that Vinny might change his mind?

  While there is life, there is always hope.

  Joe McMahon remained in the conference room after the others had silently filed out.

  “What the hell got into the kid, R. A.?”

  “Fear, I suppose. Hell, I broke with my own dad. I have no cause for complaint.”

  “Do you want me to hunt down the agent for Ms. Howatch and see who has the film rights? They may be floating around out there. Do you know whether the scriptwriter had an option?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  Anna Maria might have written the script on spec. Cautious peasant that she was, that was not unlikely. If NE could get the film rights, that would at least prevent Starbridge being taken over to WorldCorp.

  Would that be a cheap trick of which he ought to be ashamed?

  He thought about it. If it came to a battle with his wife and son over the series, they would never forgive him. On the other hand he had an obligation to protect the company, did he not?

  “Find out,” he told Joe McMahon, “and if there are no options out there, get one for us. Be generous with the price. I want to do that film.”

  “Mr. Jerry Carter on the line, Mr. Neenan.”