Ernie Brachman, tall and distinguished in his dinner jacket, stopped by the table. “Congratulations, Sam.”
“Congratulate yourself, Ernie, you son of a bitch!” Sam shouted at him. “The smartest thing you ever did was to lay off me.”
Ernie smiled again, but this time only with his lips. He bowed to the table and walked away.
“Sam,” Denise reproached him. “You shouldn’t have spoken to him like that.”
“Fuck him!” Sam said. “That prick pisses ice water. The only reason he strung along with me was because it was good business.”
He turned back to the table and began to stand the Oscars upright like toy soldiers in front of him. “Look at that,” he sang. “Five of them.”
His eyes were slightly glazed. “You know what that means? Each and every little one of them is worth a million dollars at the box office. Five million dollars.”
He looked around the table. “Now maybe they won’t think I’m so stupid. Or that they can push me around anymore. I’m just as big as any of them.
“I got the number-one play on Broadway. The number-one book on the best-seller lists. And now I got the number-one picture in the world.
“I’m not Sam Benjamin the fat little shmuck exhibitor anymore. I’m Sam Benjamin, number one in the picture business. Nobody pushes me around.
“And you know what I’m goin’ to do tomorrow?”
The table was silent as he looked around at them. “You know what I’m goin’ to do?
“Tomorrow I’m goin’ to open up the TV bidding for the picture. They’ll pay me a million dollars for the right to show it five years from now.”
He stared belligerently at Steve.
Steve didn’t answer him.
It was Jack who finally spoke. “I thought you had a deal with Steve.”
“Friendship is one thing, business is another,” Sam said, still looking at Steve. “The picture is worth a million dollars. Isn’t that right, Steve?”
Everyone turned to Steve.
His gray eyes were calm as he watched Sam; slowly he nodded. “I guess you’re right, Sam.”
“Are you goin’ to pay me a million dollars for it?”
“No.” Steve’s voice was even. “I’m going to pay you exactly what we agreed on. No more. No less.”
Sam stared at him for a long moment. Then he suddenly smiled. “That’s right.” He took a deep breath. “I’d hate to sit in a poker game with you.” He got to his feet. “Take me home, Mama,” he said to Denise. “I’m drunk.”
Jack watched him go, then leaned over to Steve. “I was right about the little bastard. Like someone once said, ‘Impossible when he’s broke, insufferable when he’s solvent.’”
That Day Last Spring
AFTERNOON
I
She went out of bed like a cat. One moment she was there beside me, warm and purring, the next, like an animal scenting danger, she was at the window. She peered out between the drapes. There was something about the way she stood there, tense and watching, the sun turning her all gold and shining.
I rolled over on my stomach. “Come back to bed, Blonde Girl.”
She didn’t move. “You’ve got a visitor.”
“So have you,” I said.
It was like she didn’t even hear me. “He’s walking around back to the carport. A little guy.”
“Maybe if you’ll stop looking, he’ll go away.”
“He might be somebody important,” she said. “He’s got a silver Rolls.”
I looked at her. The long blonde hair, the blue eyes, the full breasts with tiny nipples, the moist golden fur. And I gave up. “Why don’t you invite him over?”
“That’s an idea.” She pulled back the drapes and stepped outside on the terrace. “Yoo hoo!” she hollered, waving. “Over here!”
This I had to see. I got out of bed and walked over. The moment I saw the car I knew who it was. And that it only meant one thing. Sam Benjamin had not given up. He had sent a persuader. Perhaps the best persuader in the world.
Dave Diamond, a/k/a “The Shtarker,” your friendly neighborhood banker. That is, if you were in a million-dollar neighborhood. Otherwise known as president of the California Consolidated Banks.
She called again and he turned. For a moment he seemed frozen to the spot, his mouth agape. Then he dashed back to his car and jumped in. The next moment he was halfway down the driveway.
I leaned over the terrace railing and yelled as he came past us. “What’s the matter, Dave? Didn’t you ever see a naked girl before?”
The Rolls screeched to a stop. He stuck his head out of the window. “What the hell are you doing up there?”
“Sunbathing,” I said.
“You gotta be crazy,” he shouted. “In broad daylight. The cops’ll grab you.”
“It’s the one thing you can’t do at night,” I said. “Come on up and join us.”
“Not unless you get some clothes on,” he said. “My depositors wouldn’t like it if I was dragged downtown for showing myself off in public.”
I looked at her. “What do you say, Blonde Girl?”
“He’s cute.”
I leaned over the railing. “You heard her. Come on up.”
He was pulling the car against the curb as we went inside. I pulled on my Levis as she went into her closet. The bikini she wore when she came out looked like she had even less on than when she was naked. She went to the door and opened it.
He came into the apartment, his eyes darting suspiciously from side to side. “I thought you had a girl,” he said.
“He’s got a new one now,” she said brightly.
“Blonde Girl,” I said. “I’d like you to meet the guardian of my money. Dave, this is Blonde Girl.”
“He guards my money too,” she said.
He looked at her with new interest. This was his favorite language. “I haven’t seen you in the bank, have I?”
“No, Mr. Diamond,” she said demurely. “I don’t bank in the main office. I have one of those small accounts at the Sunset Plaza Branch. You know, twenty-five-thousand-dollar minimum balance. But I did get the sweetest letter from you when I opened my account.”
He preened visibly. “Well, if there’s anything you need, just call on me. Do you work around here?”
“No,” she answered. “I work in Chicago.”
“Chicago?” he asked. “And you live here? When do you work?”
“Every other Monday,” she said sweetly. “Can I get you something to drink?”
He stared at her for a moment while he digested that. “Scotch. If you have it.”
“I have it.” She left the room.
He looked after her appreciatively, then turned to me. “I don’t know how you do it,” he said. “You always come up with the greatest. How did you find her?”
“She found me,” I said. “Just like you did. Tell Sam the answer is still no.”
“Now wait a minute,” he said. “You didn’t even hear what I was going to say.”
She came back with a bottle of Chivas Regal, ice, and glasses. She put them down on the small table. “You men just help yourselves,” she said, unfastening her brassiere. “I’ll take a shower while you talk.”
Dave couldn’t keep his eyes from her breasts as they sprang free. He watched her until the bathroom door closed behind her, then turned to me. “You put her up to that,” he accused me. “You know I can’t talk when I have a hard on.”
I laughed, filling a glass and giving it to him. I took my own glass. “L’chaim,” I said.
“Up yours,” he said.
We drank.
“Why not?” he asked.
“I won’t be used anymore,” I said. “This time Sam can do it by himself.”
“He still owes me twelve million,” Dave said. “But I’m not worried anymore. He’s got it made.”
“Good for you,” I said. “I wish you both luck. Now you go tell him I’m not interested.”
“You si
t out here three years lookin’ for action an’ when it finally comes your way, you don’t want it.”
“It’s not the kind of action I want,” I said.
“What is it you want?” He was becoming annoyed. “You want to be head of a studio? Everybody wants to be head of a studio. But there are only so many—”
“Okay, Dave—enough. You know better than that. You know what I want. I want my own company. Where I’m the boss. Like Sinclair. Like Sam.”
“Sam says you’ll be boss if you come in.”
“Sam’s full of shit. How can I be boss if somebody else owns the company?” I refilled my glass. “And what the hell does a plate-glass company know about the picture business, even if they are the biggest plate-glass manufacturers in the world?”
“You gotta stay up to date, Steve.” Dave eyeballed me. “This is no longer a game for the little guys. Look around. Trans America, Gulf and Western, the Avco Corporation. With companies like that you need more than peanuts to play in their league.”
“Exactly what are you saying?”
“No hard feelings, Steve,” he said. “But if you’re still looking to buy a company, forget it. Nobody wants your money anymore. They want paper. Backed with the name of a big company, all fancy with gold lettering that they can take down to the Street and play games with. You ain’t got enough money to beat that game. Nobody has.”
I was silent for a moment. “Then you think this is the best I can do?”
He nodded.
I turned and looked out the window. It was as simple as that. Three years shot to hell. Three years of waiting for the right thing to happen. Now it was over. It would never happen.
“What if I could match the offer?” I asked.
Dave was ironic. “Thirty-two million dollars?”
“But it’s mostly paper.”
“So?”
I took a deep breath. “Then what’s in it for me?”
“More than you ever thought,” Dave said. “If I can tell ’em you’re interested I can arrange a meeting.”
“I already met with Sam.”
“Not with him,” Dave said quickly. “With Johnston of Palomar Plate. He’s the emmiss. He’s the one who really wants you and insists that you’re part of the deal.”
“Why me? We’ve never met.”
“He makes it a big point. Says he has known about you all his business life. He thinks you’re the only one in this industry that makes any sense at all.”
I lit a cigarette and looked at Dave thoughtfully. “You know him?”
“We’ve met,” Dave said noncommittally. That meant he didn’t know him at all. In Dave’s position not being on a first-name basis was a cardinal sin. “You’ve heard of him?”
“Yes.” Everyone had. Last month his picture was on the front cover of Time. Along with an article inside on conglomerates. And how he had taken his company from the quiet conservatism of eighty million a year to where it is now, almost eight hundred million a year. All in a short time, merely by exchanging pieces of paper.
I remembered the portrait. It was a typical Time cover. Filled with the symbolism of dollar signs and gold stock certificates and the products of the companies he now controlled.
“Don’t say no until you talk to him,” Dave said. “He promises you complete autonomy.”
“He told you that?”
“Personally,” Dave assured me.
“What else did he promise you?”
Dave looked uncomfortable.
“Come on, you can tell me,” I urged. “We’re friends.”
“Five millions of deposits,” he said reluctantly.
I whistled. “All for talking me into it?”
Dave shook his head. “You have nothing to do with it. He likes the way we operate. We’re not an old-fashioned bank. We swing. Besides, we get our twelve million back from Sam.”
“Is that why you came to see me?”
There was an expression in his eyes that told me he meant what he was saying. “Not only that, but because I think you’ll be good for each other. He respects you and won’t try to run your business for you the way some of the others do.”
I knew what he meant. It was amazing how quickly otherwise normal, competent businessmen get hooked on the film business. Then all the rules they have lived by go out the window. “Not even a girlfriend he wants to make into a star?”
“I can answer that.” Blonde Girl had just come out of the bathroom, a long towel tied sarong-like around her.
I looked up in surprise. Dave peered over the edge of his glasses. “You?” he asked.
She nodded, casually filling a glass with ice and pouring some whiskey over it. “Yes.”
I just watched her. She turned to me. “I know Ed Johnston very well. He’s a straight-up guy. Never once did he say anything about getting me into the movies.”
It was beginning to make sense now. I remembered when she first moved into the apartment about three months ago. Then how she always seemed to be there at the window, never going out. Her casual line about working every other Monday in Chicago. Chicago was Palomar Plate’s home base. I still didn’t speak.
“You angry with me?” she asked.
I shook my head. “You should have come over sooner. We’ve been missing a great thing.”
“You were all wrapped up with that other girl,” she said.
“There’s always room for one more.”
“I’m old-fashioned. Besides I could wait. The money was good. It was no strain.”
“And what did you find out?” I asked.
“Nothing that he didn’t already know. You’re an okay guy and I told him. He’s prepared to like you and I think you’d like him.” She finished her drink and put the empty glass back on the table.
I turned to Dave. “Okay, I’ll talk to him. But no commitment.”
Dave smiled for the first time. “Good. He’s in Vegas. He’s got his company jet out at Burbank in case we want to join him for lunch.”
I looked at my watch. It was a quarter past twelve. “Okay. I was getting hungry anyway.”
“We’ll go out to the airport in my car,” Dave said quickly. “I’ll save the flying until we get to the plane.”
“You’ll go in your car,” I said. “Blonde Girl will come with me.”
***
I learned a little bit more about Ed Johnston on the way down to Vegas. Blonde Girl told me a few personal items. Like he was married, two children, and on the square side of the sheets. Warm but square. No tricks, no kinks, everything simple and straight. Sometimes dull but with a great deal of strength and staying power.
Dave filled me in on the business side. He was the youngest captain ever to command an aircraft carrier. He left the Navy after the Korean War despite the attempts made to keep him in, which included a promotion to rear admiral in the Reserve. He joined Palomar Plate as executive VP and within one year became president and chief officer. Within five years he began his period of diversification and acquisition. First in related lines, then going further and further afield until now Palomar Plate controlled one of the big meat-packing companies and a large hotel chain whose newest hotel was the Flaming Desert in Las Vegas where we were going to meet. He was also reaching for one of the major transcontinental airlines and had just acquired a large tract of land in Los Angeles where he planned to erect another Century City on the style of the Alcoa project.
I could understand all of them. The one thing I did not understand was why he wanted a film company. That made no sense at all in the scheme of things.
It was a quarter to two when we were ushered into his suite in the tower of the hotel. The luncheon table was already set, but he was on the telephone.
He waved us to a seat and kept on talking. I tuned in carefully. “The red herring is already out,” he was saying in a calm voice. “Let’s wait for the reaction before we start fiddling with the points. If it goes well we’re in good shape. Time enough to change if it looks like it’
s dragging ass.” He put down the telephone with finality and got to his feet. He held out a hand. “I’m Ed Johnston. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He shook hands with Dave and kissed Blonde Girl on the cheek. “You just earned your bonus,” he said. He turned back to me with a smile that took the edge off his words. “How do you like the bodyguard we found for you?”
I laughed. He was direct enough. “I couldn’t have done better for myself.”
“Let’s eat,” he said, sitting down at the table. “I ordered delicatessen. They tell me this hotel has the best in the world. Anything to drink?”
A waiter appeared quickly and began taking our orders. I got myself a Scotch and water and felt better with a glass in my hand. He had a diet Coke.
We ate quickly and efficiently and in twenty minutes the table was cleared. He looked at me. I glanced at him, then at Dave. Apparently it was up to me to begin.
“I have just one question,” I said.
“Shoot,” he said.
“Why?”
A puzzled look came over his face. “Why what?”
“The film business,” I said. “It seems to me you have enough on your plate now. Everything solid and real. Why go for something as risky and ephemeral as that?”
He just sat there studying me.
“I could understand if you were after a major studio with land available for development. That would fit into your scheme. But the only assets here are films.” I put my drink down. “You can’t turn that into a construction project.”
“There are other attractions,” he said. “CATV is already here, next there will be Pay TV, soon there will be TV tape cassettes, someone will have to work day and night just to fill the demand. And our tape division is one of the largest in the country.”
It was my turn to sit on my hands.
“The idea isn’t new. Other conglomerates have the same idea and are already in the field. I think the time is right for us. For our kind of operation, especially if we stay loose. My idea is to have a production and distribution company that can supply all media as the demand arises.”
“Sounds good. I’m sure you have a very practical plan.” I got to my feet. “But I’ve taken enough of your time already, Mr. Johnston. May I wish you the very best of success?”
The Inheritors Page 19