“I said calm down.”
“You always do this.”
“You’re getting incoherent.”
“You just go to hell, huh?”
“This conversation was just terminated,” Tony said.
“You’re too late,” Walt told her, “I’m hanging up on you.”
“You hang up on me and you’re going to be very sorry—”
“So long, kiddo.”
“I mean it, Walt. I can be very stubborn. I’ll never call you again—”
“I’m gonna hang up now.”
“You’ll come crawling back inside five minutes,” Tony said. “You always do.”
Walt slammed the phone down on her laughter.
His throat felt dry and he really wished he knew exactly what you were looking for when you put the back of your hand to your forehead, because if he got sick now, well, he just wouldn’t and that was all there was—damn her! He should have known she’d put him down before he ever called her. He understood Tony. Every time they were together and he got excited over a movie or a painting or a great-looking mother walking with a baby—every time anything like that happened she’d put him down. Cut at him, draw blood some way, any way. She had to. Walt understood Tony. She had to be what caused excitement, whether by use of her body or her mind, and the minute anything else crept in, she had to kill it. Like last night, when he’d wondered why Branch was coming down and had started getting excited, she’d made herself almost available to him, got him hot and bothered, the juices flowing like crazy, until he’d begged her to stay, until she was back in stage center again. Hell, he understood her all right.
He just couldn’t do anything about it.
Walt sighed, listening to the echoes of Tony saying, “You’ll come crawling like you always do.” Walt nodded. “Like always,” he said. He knew she’d never call him, not ever again, or make any kind of appearance until he called; she was that stubborn. God, she could get to him. Walt ran his hand over his eyes. He felt really rotten and he would have loved not to call her, loved to finesse crawling just once, but what had to be done had to be done, so he reached for the phone and was halfway through dialing before he wondered if maybe the last scene of the play, the one where the brother Clare goes off with the pregnant sister, Loretta, oughtn’t be longer, a fuller scene. Walt scrambled out of bed for a yellow pad and pencil and made five column headings at the top of a blank page, one for each of the five characters in the play. Then he wrote, “Who wants what and why?” and began noting down answers for the five people until his eyes really hurt and he put his pencil down and in a second he was asleep.
He woke at half past two, rubbed his eyes, thought immediately, “Hey, I never called Tony, how about that” and immediately after that he got back to work on his note-taking, filling page after page. He stopped and made himself a sardine sandwich and took four aspirins just to be on the safe side and wrote down more notes until close to five when Branch buzzed.
Walt let him in and put his finger to his lips. “I gotta tell you something,” he said. “Before we say a word.” He got back in bed and pulled the quilt up. “I’m a little fuzzy, so don’t hold this against me, but I gotta explain why I was a horse’s ass on the phone this morning.”
“But you don’t—”
“Please,” Walt said, almost whispering. “This’ll just take a sec. See, I came here like everybody, running away—it doesn’t matter from what—and I said I was a director and then I sat on my ass a few years. Because I didn’t know if I was a director or not, and if I just sat quietly long enough, I figured, I’d never have to prove it. One way or the other. Now this—” he touched the manuscript—“this scared me, Branch, because all of a sudden the possibility of failure was there. Well O.K. it’s there, I accept it, I’ll take the chance and gladly. This is going to sound very corny, Branch, but I belong in the theater now, and God knows what that’s worth, but thank you.”
Branch nodded.
“O.K., let’s get to work.”
“First there’s something,” Branch said. “A little trouble.”
“What kind?”
“Money,” Branch said. “My backers are gone.”
Walt said nothing. Then he said, “Wait’ll Tony hears, won’t she smile?”
“I’m sorry,” Branch said.
“When did this happen?”
“Just this afternoon. I got several totally unexpected phone calls and ...” He shrugged. “Gone. All my contacts. Gone.”
Walt pulled the quilt up around his neck. “Nuts,” he said.
Branch sat down in the overstuffed chair and rubbed his neck with his handkerchief.
“I feel like such a fool,” Walt whispered. “How my little speech must have embarrassed you. I had no right to do that, Branch. I’m sorry.”
Branch continued to mop his neck.
“Hey, I tell you what. Let’s go to the drugstore and get me a thermometer.” He started to get out of bed. “I just regret being an ass, that’s all!”
“I never had the money,” Branch said then. “It was never raised. I lied.”
Walt lay back down.
“I don’t like lying. I’m not that good at it. I didn’t mean to upset you like this, Walt. I’m the one that’s sorry.”
“Tell me.”
Branch jammed his handkerchief into his pocket. “I thought, whenever I needed the money, that my mother would, well, assist me, but ... we aren’t on the best of terms just now. I tried getting the money other places ... but all my contacts failed me. No one saw enough in the play. They turned me down, but I did try.”
“So you came to me because you knew I had loot.”
“No. I came to you because I wanted you to direct the play. And because I knew you had loot.”
Walt nodded.
“There’s something else you ought to know. The part of the deaf boy. Clare. It’s already cast.”
“Why tell me?”
Branch sat forward. “This play is ... highly important to me ... I cannot stress that enough ... I have ... of my own money ... six thousand dollars ... I’ll keep one to live on ... leaving five ... the play will cost approximately ten ...”
“And I’m supposed to put up the other five?”
Branch nodded. “If you believe in the play ...” No one would ever know, I promise you. You put up five and all the money will be raised.”
“Why do you think I live this way, Branch?”
“I don’t know.”
“I live this way because I swore I would never get anywhere in this world because I bought my way in.”
“This ... kind of thing happens ... frequently.”
“I called my father!” Walt said. “What the hell kind of fool would do a thing like that?” He began rolling back and forth across the bed.
“I have only ... that money I spoke of ... You have so much more ... If I’m willing to risk ... everything ... I should think you might do the same with ... a fraction.”
“You came to me because I had money and that’s the only reason!”
“No! I want you to do this play. If you were ... just rich, I would never ... are you all right?”
“I feel kinda funny, that’s all.” He tried sitting up, made it.
Branch crossed to him. “What can I do?”
Walt shook his head. “Nothing. Too many sardines maybe. What the hell do I need a thermometer for?”
“Say ‘the money’s all raised,’ Walt. No one will know ... ever ... please ...”
“I took some notes. They’re here someplace and you’re welcome—who?” he shouted as there was a knock on the door.
“Western Union with a singing telegram.”
“Nuts,” Walt said.
Branch let Tony in. “Hmmmmm,” she sang, getting the pitch. Then: “To the tune of Happy Birthday’: We apologize to you, we apologize to you, we apologize, Egbert Kirkaby, we apologize to you.” She smiled quickly at Walt. “Somehow I thought that might draw applause.”
>
“There’s been a little trouble with the play,” Branch explained.
“Walt, I’m sorry,” Tony said, and she ran to him.
He looked at her.
“I am, I am. I really am. I’m not going to say I told you so. I’m just so sorry, Walt, I swear to God.”
“It’s just that Branch and I don’t quite see how to cast the girl,” Walt said, still looking dead at her. “Hell, it’s not important, not really, not when you consider that the money’s all raised.”
“Well, what ... did you think?” Branch asked as soon as the three men were alone. Walt pushed his glasses up snug against the bridge of his nose with his left thumb. Aaron stared at the wall.
“Obviously she’s a helluva good actress,” Walt said.
Branch mopped his neck with his handkerchief. “I liked her,” he said. They were sitting in the rear of a rehearsal hall in midtown. It was almost three o’clock and they had been holding auditions since a little after nine. “Her quality, I mean.”
Walt nodded.
Branch continued mopping his neck. “What was her name again?”
Walt consulted a three-by-five card. “Devers. Jenny.”
“Shall we sign her?” Branch said. He gestured up to the front of the room where the actors had auditioned. “She certainly works well with Rudy, don’t you think?”
“I’m not worried about Rudy,” Walt said. “Rudy’s gonna be fine no matter who he plays against. In this part he’s a natural.”
“Of course,” Branch said. “He’s been wonderful auditioning with all the Lorettas we’ve looked at. I just thought ... up there ... something happened between those two.”
“Balls,” Aaron said.
Walt looked at him. “That’s your considered opinion?”
“Nothing happened up there,” Aaron said. “That’s a lot of crap—‘something happened.’ ” He lit a cigarette and stuck it in the far corner of his mouth. “Some broad comes in and reads a few lines and all of a sudden Branch has gotta make it a mystical experience.”
“You didn’t like her, then,” Walt said to Aaron.
“I liked her,” Branch said. “I liked her quality.”
“Her quality reminded me of European toilet tissue,” Aaron said.
“We must put that line in the play,” Branch said.
“You’re such an ass,” Aaron said.
“And you’re a phony,” Branch said. “You’ve never even been to Europe, so—”
“What is it with you two?” Walt wanted to know. “Let’s stick to, business. What about this Devers girl?”
“I’m satisfied with her,” Branch said.
“No, nein, negative, never.” Aaron inhaled deeply, then coughed.
Branch mopped his neck with his handkerchief. “You’re so obvious, Aaron, really you are.”
“Why is he obvious?” Walt said.
“Oh, because if I’d said I didn’t like her, then he would have fallen down and died unless we hired her on the spot.”
“Try me,” Aaron said.
“What is it with you two?” Walt wanted to know. “Come on now. Let’s act professional just for five minutes.” He got up and began to pace.
“We’ve only got five minutes,” Branch said. “She was the last audition today, and if we wait much longer we’ll have to pay for the room another hour.”
“O.K.,” Walt said. “I’m not sure about her. She’s a good actress.” He ran over and got the three-by-five card. “She studies with Eli Lee and he’s tops. Experience? She understudied in The Left Hand Knows, the Stagpole thing.”
“That was years ago,” Aaron said.
“Right.” Walt nodded. “The point is, somebody else at some time or other must have thought she had talent. She does. She’s good. Whether she’s good for us or not, I’m not sure.”
“I liked—” Branch began.
“If you say you liked her quality one more time,” Aaron cut in, “I’m gonna bust you one.”
Branch mopped his neck. “I was going to say I liked the way she worked with Rudy.”
“I told you,” Walt said. “Don’t worry about him. He’s a natural; he’s like the part was written for him.”
“I’m dying of the heat,” Aaron said, starting to pace. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“We’ve still got almost four minutes,” Branch said. “Let’s be thrifty and finish our discussion here.”
“There is nothing to discuss. I will not have that girl in my play!”
“Why?” Walt asked.
Branch got up and started to pace.
“Because I said so,” Aaron answered. “I’m the playwright. I’m allowed unlimited preemptive refusals.”
“Will you listen to that?” Branch said. “Will you all just please listen to that?”
“Why?” Walt repeated.
“I don’t have to answer you,” Aaron said. “I don’t have to do anything but give my opinion. You’ve got my opinion, so let’s get the hell out of here.”
“What have you got against her?” Walt asked.
“Aside from the fact that I liked her quality,” Branch said.
Aaron lit another cigarette, jammed it between his lips. “Goddammit, I just don’t like her, that’s all. She’s too big, for crissakes. How’s that?”
“Go on,” Walt said. “What else?”
Aaron turned on him. “What? Now you’re on Branch’s side all of a sudden?”
“I’m not on anybody’s side! We’re all on the same side, Aaron! What is it with you two? Whatever it is, please stop it. We-are-all-on-the-same-side-Aaron-goddammit!”
“I’m sorry,” Aaron said. “It’s a hot day. She’s just too big, Walt. She’s nine feet tall with boobs out to here. That’s not Loretta.”
“I agree with the descriptive passages,” Walt said. “I’m not quite so sure about the conclusion.” He started walking quickly in a circle. “What else?”
Aaron started his own circle on the far side of the room. “She’s clumsy.”
“I don’t think so,” Walt said. “What else?”
“She’s not pretty enough,” Aaron said. “Loretta’s supposed to be pretty.”
“Correction,” Walt said. “Loretta’s supposed to be attractive. This girl’s attractive. In our society, anybody with boobs out to here—”
“What are you getting at?” Branch said, choosing a straight line between the circles, tracing it back and forth across the room, mopping his neck with a fresh handkerchief now.
“I don’t know,” Walt said. “I don’t know. I just want to hear Aaron.”
“She’s not what I picture, that’s all,” Aaron said. “I don’t see her in the part.”
“I think she’d be wonderful,” Branch said.
“Nobody cares what you think,” Aaron said.
“Aaron’s spoken,” Branch said. “I must face east a while.”
“Goddammit, you two—”
“He gets to me sometimes,” Aaron said, circling around and around.
Walt followed his own perimeter. “Did you think she was sad, Aaron? Think a minute. Did you find her at all poignant? Or lost? Anything like that?”
Before Aaron could answer, Branch said, “Not so much.”
Aaron glared at him. “Yes. I did.”
“We’ve really got to decide soon,” Branch said. “They’re liable to throw us right out on our canny-can-cans.”
Walt waved him quiet. “I’ll tell you what I think,” he said. “Aaron, you listen, all right?”
“All right.”
“All right!” Walt stopped circling. “Now Loretta is a girl who gets pregnant, solid? And she can’t make the man she wants, the man who did it, marry her. Not only that, she gets bulldozed into trying to slip it to this innocent rich guy, solid? O.K., now what can we say about a girl like that? What conclusions can we draw? I really think I’m onta something.” He began circling again, around Aaron now, who turned as Walt walked, the two of them turning, keeping fac
e to face. “She is weak! Right!”
“Right,” Aaron said.
“O.K., now get this: Ordinarily you want to cast a weak girl—you get some goddam skinny ingénue and have her flutter around the stage and the audiences says, ‘I get it, I’ve seen her before, she’s weak.’ So what I say, Aaron old buddy, is that we cast this Amazon. Yeah. Remember Of Mice and Men? Lenny? He broke your heart because he was so goddam big and strong. Who’d have given a crap if he’d been little? I mean it. It’s great casting. Great big weak girl—that’s fresh. Little teeny weak girl—I’ve been there before. What do you think, huh, Aaron, huh?”
Aaron said nothing.
“I think you’re really off the track there, Walt,” Branch said.
“Let’s hire her,” Aaron said.
“Just in time,” Branch said, skipping out of the room and down the stairs, trying not to laugh too loud. Rudy was waiting on the sidewalk. “I got her the part,” Branch said.
Rudy nodded. “Thank you.”
Early that evening there was a knock on the door of the apartment on Seventy-second Street. Then the doorbell rang. Then the knock again, louder this time. Branch answered. “Yes?”
“Rudy Miller.”
“You’re the editor,” Branch said. “Fiske.”
“That’s right. And I want to talk to Rudy.”
“He’s not feeling all that well,” Branch said. “I’ll see if he’ll see you.” He turned and walked down the corridor while Charley moved into the living room and looked out the window at the Hudson. Then Branch came back. “This way, please.”
Charley followed him down the corridor. The first room on the right was the kitchen. Then, on the left, a large bedroom, also facing the Hudson. Then, past that on the right, a small, dark study. Branch gestured toward the study. Charley entered it and looked around. “Rudy?” he said.
“I was expecting you.”
Charley went to the window. “Jenny quit this afternoon.”
Rudy sat on a step of the fire escape, staring out, his legs tucked up tight, his chin on his knees. He said, “I know.”
“You got her a job in this play, that right?”
“She would have gotten it anyway.” He turned his head slowly, looked at Charley.
“What the hell business was it of yours?”
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