The Inheritors

by Harold Robbins

  The steaks weren’t too bad and once when Angel started to talk shop, I stopped him. “Tomorrow. Time enough.”

  The waiter took out the table and for a moment there was a silence. Then Angel got to his feet. “Come on, Faith, baby. Time for us to go.”

  I made no move to stop them. After they were gone, she still sat there. We stared at each other for a long time. “What are you thinking?” she finally asked.

  “I don’t get it,” I said. “Why are you coming on so strong?”

  She smiled. “Maybe I like you.”

  “Again. Why?”

  “It’s a long story.” She got to her feet and walked toward the bedroom. “Someday I’ll tell you.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  I sat there at the bar drinking Scotch. Everything seemed down for me. I just didn’t want the effort. It could have been a half hour before she came back.

  “Hey,” she called from the doorway. “You goin’ to sit up all night drinking?”

  I turned to look at her. The only thing she had on was her boots. I stared at her. She had painted her nipples purple to match her costume.

  She smiled. “Like it?”

  “It’s different.”

  “I have some smack,” she said. “I rubbed it on my nipples. It makes them tingle.” She came into the room and put a cigarette in her mouth. “Give me a light,” she said, leaning toward me.

  I held the match for her. The acrid odor of pot filled the room quickly. “Want a drag?” she asked.

  Silently I took the joint from her. I pulled the smoke into my lungs. I felt nothing. Nothing was working.

  She took the reefer back from me. “Man, you’re way down.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Do you want I should go?” she asked.

  I took a long time making up my mind. “No.”

  She dragged on the reefer. Her eyes were beginning to darken. “You goin’ to look at me all night?” She was beginning to slur her words.

  “Maybe,” I said.

  She nodded. “Okay, if that’s what you want.” She crossed the room and put on the record player. “You won’t object if I have some fun?”

  I smiled. “Be happy.”

  She began to sway in time to the music. She dragged again and passed the reefer to me. I sat there on the bar stool watching her dance. She moved around the room, turning off the lamps until there was only a faint light coming from behind the bar. She cut into the bedroom and I put the reefer in my mouth and dragged on it.

  She was back in a moment, holding something in her hand. I couldn’t see it in the dim light. She moved toward me. “I’d like you to meet my true love,” she said.

  I looked down at her outstretched hand. The slim pink vibrator shone faintly. She turned the base handle and it began to hum.

  “Steve, meet Steve,” she said.

  I looked at her. She was completely serious. “We really met when I was fourteen,” she said. “And he’s been with me ever since.” She pressed it to her cheek, then down the side of her neck and around to her breasts. She reached for the roach with her free hand.

  I gave it to her. She dragged once, then gave it back to me. Her eyes were swimming now.

  I put the roach out in a tray and refilled my glass. I watched her in the shaded mirror behind the bar.

  She was moving with the music, her eyes half shut, passing the vibrator down across her stomach. She stopped suddenly and pressed it into the neatly trimmed, dark pubic patch.

  Suddenly she opened her eyes wide and stared at me. Her legs began to tremble. “Steve!” she cried out and sank to her knees, the vibrator falling from her hands to the carpet where it lay humming obscenely.

  After a moment, she picked it up and turned it off. She looked up at me, a faint smile coming to her lips. “That’s crazy, isn’t it?”

  I shook my head.

  “It’s a wild orgasm,” she said.

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  She got to her feet. “I’ve got to go to the bathroom.”

  I turned back to the bar. The room was a strange mixture of odors. Female, pot, whiskey. I picked up my drink.

  “Fix me one,” she said from the doorway. I turned to look at her. She was completely dressed. I threw some ice into a glass and poured the whiskey over it.

  She took it from my hand. “Bang, bang,” she said. She swallowed the drink in one gulp and walked toward the door. She picked up her fur coat from the chair and wrapped it around her. She stood there looking back at me. “Good night,” she said.

  “Good night,” I said.

  The door closed behind her and a few minutes passed while I sat there with the drink in my hand. Then the house phone rang. I picked it up.

  She was calling from downstairs. “I forgot to tell you something.”

  “What is it, Darling Girl?”

  “I love you,” she said and hung up.

  ***

  The dreams socked in that night. It happened every time I returned to the apartment. Barbara was there. Maybe Sam was right. I should have moved.

  But I hadn’t and there she was. We were that close and then—nothing. She was gone and would never come back.

  I rolled over on the bed and pushed the dreams away. No more. I let myself open wide once and blew it. I was not about to make the same mistake again.

  It was better the way it was. No ties. No hangups. Everything cool. You came and went as you pleased. No guilt feelings because you had something else to do or something else on your mind.

  But still I remembered the way it was when we began to make it. Beautiful. Like nothing I had ever known before or since. But, after that, the pain. Only the pain.

  No more. I pushed at the dream and tried to sleep. Then the dream went all crazy and Darling Girl was dancing again. Only this time she wore Barbara’s face and kept smiling at me with Barbara’s smile.

  The slow teasing smile she had when she was putting me on. I reached for her and Barbara vanished. I sat up in bed, looking into the dark.

  The room was silent and empty. After a moment I got out of bed and took a sleeper. That did it. I went out like a light.

  ***

  I woke up to the music of the telephone. I was still logy when I answered it.

  It was Angel calling from the lobby. “I kept ringing your bell,” he said. “I finally went downstairs and called.”

  “Come on up,” I said. I pressed down the bar and released it. The operator came on and I ordered breakfast. Then I staggered into the bathroom and threw some water on my face.

  Angel was bugged with curiosity, but he didn’t ask any questions. I didn’t volunteer any information. I swallowed some coffee and we got on the trolley.

  He moved fast. He had all the ratings, all the costs, and all the answers. He was bright, tough, and ambitious, and not about to let this one get away from him. Not while Sinclair was watching.

  The pattern began to come clear as I listened to Angel. As smart as he thought he was, he lived on the surface. Underneath, Sinclair was already churning up the waters. All Angel could see was that the old man had called on him.

  The arithmetic was simple. The specials blew two nights a month for us. At first there had been a great deal of enthusiasm on everyone’s part, even the sponsors. At last something was being done that they could be proud to be a part of. Then the ratings came in.

  Pride went before ratings. Down. They translated them immediately into sales response and were beginning to have second thoughts and were looking for a graceful way out. Up came the same old reasons. Blame it on the public. After all, it was they who switched channels.

  Sinclair knew of my commitment to the project and this was his way of telling me that he was unhappy. He made the opening move. Angel was just a piece on the chessboard.

  But the old man was losing his touch. King’s knight pawn to four was a bad opening for him. He was about to lose Angel.

  “Good work,” I said. “I like the way you’re thinking an
d your approach is sound.”

  “Thanks, Steve,” said Angel, creaming visibly.

  I sat and thought for a moment. “Got a good backup man in Daytime?”

  “Pete Reiser,” he said. “I had him on game shows, but I think he’s ready.”

  “Good,” I said. “I’m moving you to Special Programming. That’s one flight up and fifteen grand more a year. I’m going to let you handle the whole thing. I have every confidence that you’ll straighten it out.”

  He stared. “You won’t regret it, Steve. I’ll work my ass off.”

  “I know you will. But you’ll still have to keep an eye on Reiser until we’re sure he can do the job.”

  “No sweat, Steve. I understand.”

  “I think you better get out to the coast and grab a firsthand look at the rest of the shows. I want to get your comments.”

  “I’ll be on the plane tonight.” He got to his feet. “By the way, I have the report ready for Sinclair. What shall I do with it?”

  “Send it to him, of course.”

  “There’ll be a copy for you as soon as my girl finishes typing it.”

  “Thank you.”

  I waited until he had left the apartment before I picked up the telephone. I didn’t even have to check to find out the report had already gone to Sinclair. I would get it when he figured a safe enough time had elapsed. I woke Jack Savitt up at home.

  “Angel Perez is coming out there,” I said. “Bury him.”

  “He’ll get the ‘A’ treatment,” Jack said.

  “When you complete those arrangements, you get on a plane and come in here.”

  “What for?”

  “I want you to handle the Ritchie-Benjamin deal.”

  “Wait a minute,” he said. “That started top level. That means you’re elected. Sinclair won’t have anyone but the network president handle it.”

  “You come in,” I said. “I’ll take care of Sinclair.”

  I put down the telephone and lit a cigarette. Sinclair wanted to play. He was entitled. After all, it was his bat and ball.

  But he was going to be in for a few surprises. There was a whole new set of rules. And he would have to learn them, the first being that he shouldn’t play games.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Angel’s report was on my desk when I went into the office the next day. I picked it up and skimmed through it. He was busy making points. The only person he didn’t try to assassinate was Sinclair himself.

  I grinned to myself. Angel was too eager. Sinclair could read right through this one. It was too obviously self-serving. But he did make one good point. With me at the coast most of the time, there was a lack of direction in New York.

  It was nothing new. We had all seen it coming for a long time. I had brought it up to Spencer almost two years ago. But he had sloughed it off then. “Spread yourself,” he had said.

  I didn’t even bother. I merely concentrated on what I thought were the major items on the agenda. The rest had to drag behind. But no more.

  I threw the report into the trash basket. Reports didn’t make television programs. I pressed down the intercom. “Let me know when Sinclair comes in,” I said.

  “He’s right here,” Spencer’s voice came from the doorway.

  I looked up and smiled. I got to my feet and held out my hand. “Mr. Sinclair,” I said.

  He made a wry face as he took my hand. “I recognize that tone of voice,” he said. “So it’s going to be a formal meeting?”

  “It’s time,” I smiled.

  “Before we begin, am I allowed to say that I’m glad to see you, Steve?”

  I grinned. “I’m glad to see you, Spencer.”

  He nodded and sank into a chair in front of my desk. “Why did you send Perez to the coast?” he shot at me.

  “To kill him,” I said. “I don’t like shits.”

  “I asked him to do a job.”

  “That was your mistake. He was working for me. It was me you should have asked.”

  “His report makes sense.”

  “So did mine two years ago. But you didn’t want to do anything then. I predicted we would have problems. Now that we have them, you’re ready to do something. You weren’t then.”

  “He can’t be too bad,” he said. “After all, he did call you.”

  “After he gave you the report. He was just playing it safe.”

  “I’m chairman of the board and responsible for the financial affairs of the company. You can’t say this year has been a roaring success.”

  “You forgot something,” I said.

  “What’s that?”

  “When you made me president of the whole company, I automatically became its chief operating officer. I don’t like anyone usurping my authority. Not even you.”

  “Don’t be so touchy, Steve, I was only trying to help.”

  “I know that. But you broke the rules. And you can’t do that anymore. It’s another kind of ball game now.”

  “You mean to say I can’t take corrective measures when I see something wrong?” He was beginning to lose his temper.

  “There is something you can do,” I said. “Tell me.”

  “How the hell can I tell you anything when you’re out of the office all the time?”

  “Did you ever hear of the telephone?” I was deliberately nasty.

  He cooled off. “What are you going to do now? The board is looking for answers. Our billings are off by eleven million dollars this year.”

  “Pressing the panic button won’t get it back.”

  “You’re spending too much time at the coast,” he said. “Sales are suffering because of that.”

  “They won’t hurt next September when our new programs begin.”

  “That’s a long time off. It’s less than a week to the new year. We still have this winter and summer figures to worry about. Let’s face it, Steve. No one knows the agencies as well as you do. You have to come back here. You can’t be in two places at once.”

  “Now you’re making sense,” I said. “I can’t be in two places at once. But you’re wrong about the other. There is someone who knows the agencies as well as I do.”

  He looked his question.

  “Jack Savitt,” I said. “You’ve forgotten that he’s spent his life on Madison Avenue selling agencies as well as sponsors and networks his programs.”

  “But what about the studio?”

  “He’s done his job there,” I said. “He got it started and running. He’s also brought along some top backup men ready to take over. I think it’s time we moved him up.”

  He was silent for a moment while he thought that one out. “What do you intend to give him?”

  “I’ve asked him to come in and handle the Benjamin proposition.”

  “Wait a minute,” he protested. “That’s your job.”

  “It’s the job of the president of Sinclair TV,” I said.

  “But you’re still the president.”

  “That was my mistake,” I said. “When I took over your job as president of Sinclair Broadcasting, I should have put another man in my old job. I think it’s about time Sinclair TV had a new president.”

  “And what will you do?”

  “The same thing you did when you had my job,” I said. “Drive everybody crazy.”

  He began to laugh and got to his feet. He started for the door, then turned back to me. “Come up to Greenwich for dinner on Sunday?” he asked. “The snow is very pretty up there.”

  “I will, if I’m not back on the coast by then.”

  He nodded. “Just one more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “Have you figured out yet when I can retire?”

  I answered promptly. “When you’re sixty-five.”

  He laughed and went out the door. I looked after him and then began to smile to myself. He lost the skirmish and won the war. He was still smarter than I was. I suddenly realized that he had gotten everything he wanted.

  ***

  It was d
ark by the time I left the office, and I didn’t see her as I came out of the building. I crossed the curb to the car and was about to get in when she tapped me on the shoulder.

  “You work late, Mr. Gaunt,” she said.

  I turned to her. She wore another kind of fur coat this time. Red fox, I think. With a hood that covered almost all her face and all I could see were her eyes, dark and shining.

  “I’ve been waiting since five o’clock,” she said.

  “That’s stupid. If you wanted to see me, why didn’t you come upstairs?”

  “Would you believe—I was afraid?”

  “Of what?”

  “That you wouldn’t—didn’t—want to see me.”

  “It still would have been better than standing out here all evening and freezing your ass off.”

  “It wasn’t so bad,” she said, taking an old-fashioned pocket flask out of her pocket. She held it upside down to show me it was empty. “After a while I didn’t even know it was cold.”

  “You’d better get in the car,” I said, taking her arm. She didn’t move. “No. I wasn’t waiting for that. You don’t have to take me with you. I just wanted to tell you I was sorry I made such an idiot of myself last night.”

  I didn’t speak.

  “I don’t know what happened to me,” she said. “It was like—all of a sudden—I came unglued.”

  There was something very young in her face. I took her arm again. “Get in the car.”

  Quietly she got into the big Continental limousine. I followed her and closed the door. The chauffeur turned and looked back at us. “Where to, Mr. Gaunt?”

  “Where do you live?” I asked her.

  “Riverside Drive and Seventy-eighth,” she answered. She began to shiver and drew back into the corner of the seat, making herself very small.

  The limo pulled out into the traffic. I turned the heater on full blast. The warm air poured over us. By the time we were in Central Park, it was like an oven.

  “That better?” I asked.

  “Y—yes,” she said. “Do you have a cigarette?”

  I lit one and passed it to her. She dragged on it. After a moment, she stopped shivering. She looked out the window at the snow in the park. “Where are we going?” she asked.