Thorton left his seat and went down front and hung his chin on the stage to get a better view, which upset Marge.
“Look at that old fool. He is disgusting. He makes me so mad I could spit,” she said to Marshall, who said, “I think he’s funny.”
“You would,” said Marge.
After Superman finished up with the last girl he got up from the couch, his penis still erect, and bowed.
The lights went up and dance music started. The three girls went into the audience and brought some men onstage to dance. One of the young women pulled Thorton up on the stage. He shuffled after her, dragging his leg. Superman came down into the audience and took Marge’s hand and tried to pull her on stage. Marge was reluctant, but she went along with it. Superman led her to dance. His long penis banged against her beaded dress.
Dorothy came over to Clint and sat down.
“I want to go. This is the most disgusting event I have ever witnessed. These Norths are the sickest and most despicable perverts I’ve ever met. Are you coming?” she asked. Dorothy got up from the seat and walked out of the theater with Clint following.
She wanted us to come here, Clint thought. Now, she’s the Blessed Virgin.
There was a cab waiting in front, and they took it back to the Riviera. Neither of them said a word.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
After the visit to Superman, the Norths were back in their suite at the Nacional.
“Do you realize what time it is? The race is going to start in a few hours, if there is a race,” said Marge as she poured a scotch and water from the bar.
“I wish I had a camera. You should have seen yourself dancing with that big-dicked nigger. You liked that big prick,” said Marshall.
“What’s a matter, you jealous? Cause you know you got nothing down there,” answered Marge as she walked away and sat down next to Tana.
“Sorry, Tana. Marshall has no class. Using nigger like he does.”
“I’ve heard the term before,” said Tana.
“Some of my best friends are niggers,” said Thorton. Marshall, Jimmy and Tana exchanged looks.
“Get off this nigger crap, for God’s sake. Don’t you think Georgia’s a darling girl?” asked Marge.
“Poor Marty. It will never last,” said Marshall.
“What makes you make a crack like that, you shit heel?” said Marge.
Jimmy stood. “What’s wrong with all of you? We came here to have fun and go racing. What’s getting into everybody? Tana, it’s time for bed. Tana joined Jimmy, said goodnight and left.
“What do you suppose is wrong with him?” asked Marshall.
“He doesn’t like that kind of talk,” said Marge.
“He’s right. You shouldn’t talk that way. They all got pussies and they all have pricks. They’re just like you and me,” said Thorton.
“Oh, my God. Isn’t Thorton just brilliant,” said Marge.
The race was to start at two PM, but Fangio had not been released from his captors, which made for a delay. The time trials had taken place for starting positions. The laps went slow because of the layout of the course and danger of the crowds being close to the road. Roman and his crew were elated with their time; they had been able to get second-row position. Sterling Moss from England in a small Ferrari and Masten Gregory in a big Ferrari placed first row lineup.
The race fans arrived along the Malecon. Grandstands were assembled for five thousand spectators in front of the Nacional and the U.S.
Embassy. A section was roped off for President Batista’s family and friends.
The Norths asked Dorothy, Clint, Marty and Georgia to watch the race from their suite at the Nacional. Marty and Georgia declined.
Nathan stayed with Meyer Lansky for the day, involved in a business meeting. Dorothy was on her own. She wasn’t happy being in Havana, but it could have been worse if Clint and the racing crowd weren’t here. She would have been by herself sitting in her room.
Nathan told Dorothy that Meyer was coming through for him in Las Vegas.
Clint said he’d have a late breakfast with the newlyweds. He felt hung-over and tired. He was feeling exhausted lately. Maybe I need a vacation; this place is no vacation, he thought. Or I could take some vitamin pills, they could pick me up. Yesterday had been hectic. Today he wanted to relax, he told himself, and watch the race.
Bodyguards stood in front of Marty’s suite when Clint rang the buzzer. They recognized him and let him pass.
Marty let him in.
“I’m so happy. You know what my baby said to me?”
“No?”
“She wants to have a big family. You don’t know how happy that makes me. And she told me she’s giving up acting.”
Georgia came into the living room, dressed in a peach satin dressing gown. She gave Clint a big smile.
“Thanks, Clint, for all you did yesterday. There wouldn’t have been a wedding if it wasn’t for you.” She held up her hand.
“I love my wedding ring. Marty wants to get me a real one, but I like this one. I’ll never take it off.” She went to Clint and kissed him on the cheek.
“You will when your finger turns green,” Clint said with a laugh.
The buzzer in the room sounded. Clint went to the door. The waiter stood in the hallway with their breakfast. One of the guards lifted the silver cover and checked it. He put the cover back and the waiter came into the suite and set up the table. Everyone sat as the waiter served them.
“Did you hear about the Cinerama Theater last night?” asked Marty.
“No,” said Clint.
“They threw bombs into the place,” said Marty. “I want you to be the first to know, we’re leaving in the morning or as soon as Georgia and I can get out of here.”
“You have another we50182201ek on your contract,” said Clint.
“Bullshit! You put the makeup on; you do the show,” said Marty.
“I’m not Marty Fallon,” said Clint.
“Let me ask you something. Do you want a live Marty Fallon or do you want a dead Marty Fallon for a client? Cut the crap. Nobody, I say nobody, is going to blame me for walking out of this place.”
“I agree, but first I want to talk to Meyer. Just to be safe. We don’t want to piss him off. He carries a lot of weight around the world,” said Clint.
“Tell him to go fuck himself.”
“I won’t do that. These guys pay the best money in show business.
I’m not going to let you screw up with them. In fact they’re going to open the El Dorado in Las Vegas next year, I’ve been talking to them about you appearing there, for BIG money,” said Clint.
“Listen to Clint, Marty. Now that we’re married and we’re going to have a family, that costs money. And let’s face it, you’re not divorced yet. Your wife will stick it to you now when she finds out I’m pregnant,” said Georgia.
Clint thought, She’s pregnant, I should have known. That explains the fast marriage.
“Why should she have to know? You’re not going to be in her company,” said Marty.
“There’s no secrets in Hollywood, Marty. Our kind of gossip gets around. I won’t feel secure until I see our names on a California marriage license.”
“I’m trying to please you, honey. Don’t give me any more problems,” said Marty.
“I’m sorry, I’m just thinking ahead,” said Georgia.
“What do you think I should do, Clint?”
“The sooner you clear up your marriage with your wife the better.
If I were you I’d call your lawyer and have him file the papers.”
Georgia was pleased.
“Get him on the phone,” said Marty. Clint got on the phone.
“Operator, Ingles, por favor. Mr. Mike Murphy in Los Angeles, California. His number there is CR 1777. I’ll wait. Hello, Mike. Sorry to get you up. It’s Clint Nation in Havana. Marty wants to talk to you.”
Clint handed Marty the phone.
“Mike, put the papers together
for my divorce. WHAT!” Marty’s face went to a scowl. “Why? I fired the son-of-a-bitch three years ago.
What am I going to do? We’ll leave here today. Bye.” Marty came back to the table.
“What’s wrong?” asked Clint.
“The IRS has taken my house, my bank account and tied up all of my assets. I’m broke.”
A big explosion rattled the windows of the room. Clint got up and ran to the window. He peered down on the street. A city bus was on fire.
Black smoke traveled into the air. The crowd below screamed and ran into the street.
“It’s a bomb,” said Clint.
“We’re leaving today. Call the airport,” snapped Marty.
Clint found Meyer Lansky in a meeting in the Lounge. Meyer saw Clint approach. He gave him a sign to wait until he was through. Clint nervously waited for him to finish. After a few minutes the men left.
Meyer motioned for him to come and sit.
“Doz guys told me Castro was on the radio dis mornin’ telling the people to go on strike and stop the Gran’ Premio race. He says the army is coming over to his side. Do you believe that crap? Whatsa matter?
Are ya sick?” said Meyer.
“Marty wants to leave today.”
“Well, I’d leave too, if I could, but look at dis place. Cost me millions. I havta to stay here, and try to negotiate a deal with Castro. If he says “NO”, I crap out. I like your guy Marty. Great talent. The gamblers like the guy too. He’s good for business.”
“Thanks Meyer. I’ll pass it on.”
“I checked the books this morning. Didja know his losses are over twenty grand? I’m givin’ him fifteen grand a week. As of today he owes me five grand. If he pays the five grand he owes me, I’ll cancel the contract. You know I could hold him to it, and I’d collect in the States.
The way I sees it, it could cost him the fifteen he owes me for the week and the five grand he owes the house, which comes to twenty grand plus his lawyers. See, I’m being a nice guy, don’t ya think?” asked Meyer, smiling.
Clint had been through this before. When you’ve got a star like Marty who’s an irresponsible gambler, they leave their money at the crap tables of the gambling clubs they play. He ends up losing all his salary for the date, plus having to pay the IRS, and owing the casino more dates for nothing, to pay off his debts.
“I’ll work it out with you, Meyer.”
“By da way. Nathan Wise wanted to know what kinda guy are ya.
Vot I think of ya. If he could trust ya. He’s thinking about ya handling some deals for him. I told him you vere a OK kind of guy.”
“Thanks for the reference. I’ll get back to you.” Clint got up and gave Meyer a handshake. Meyer’s handshake was like a limp rag. How could a man that powerful have a handshake like that, he thought. He doesn’t have to impress anybody. That’s why! Clint had answered his own question. He left the noisy lounge and went to the house phone to call Dorothy.
“I’m in the lobby. Are you ready? We’d better get started. They’ll be closing off the streets soon for the race. I’ll be waiting in the lobby.
Bye.” He then called Marty.
“Meyer is letting you out of the contract. You and Georgia can leave today if you can get out. There’s a catch. He figures you owe him twenty thousand dollars.” Clint held the phone from his ear. “Calm down … It’s the gambling. It’s five grand. Don’t you call him. You’re not going to tell him to go fuck himself. Don’t do anything. I’m on my way to your room … I’ll explain everything. Bye.” Clint put down the phone, and brought a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow.
He said to himself. “What a revolting day this is going to be.” He went and rang for the elevator.
Dorothy and Clint arrived at the Nacional at one-thirty. They had to go through the back streets because of the crowds. The main boulevards were closed. When they could go no farther by cab, they got out and walked the rest of the way. When they arrived at the Nacional, a mass of people stood in front of the hotel making it almost impossible to enter. The police and the military used a long thick rope to hold back the crowds. They gave them space so they could get in. When they got inside the lobby, it was packed with tourists wanting to leave the city.
Their bags were everywhere, making it difficult to maneuver around.
“Where are the fucking elevators?” asked Dorothy, looking around.
“Follow me,” said Clint. He led her to the rear of the lobby near the gardens and they saw the elevator. The bronze doors opened and a packed crowd surged forward pushing them backward. Dorothy looked to Clint like she was having an anxiety attack.
“Clint, this place is scary. We could be trapped here,” she said as they got into the elevator.
“Diez,” said Clint as he held up ten fingers to the frazzled elevator boy.
Some Cuban soldiers got on with them. The old elevator climbed slowly to the tenth floor. The smell of sweat and garlic coming from the soldiers had Dorothy sick by the time they reached the top floor. Dorothy was aghast at seeing all the soldiers in the hallways. Clint knocked on the door of the suite and Marshall opened the door. He had a big smile on his face.
“What’s the smile for? I hope what’s funny rubs off on me. I’ve been frightened to death trying to get here,” said Dorothy. Thorton sat on the sofa, dressed in his underwear, next to a man who was about fifty, on the heavy side. He had a sun-lined face with deep furrows and a shock of sandy-brown gray hair. When he saw Dorothy come into the room, he took a couple of gulps.
“This is Corky Miller from Texas, he’s a wildcatter. He got here early this morning. He and Thorton haven’t been to bed yet,” said Marshall. Corky tried to get up and then fell back again.
“P-p-pleased to m-meetcha all,” said Corky, stuttering. When Marshall said Corky was a oilman, Dorothy took an immediate interest in him.
“You poor darling man. What an experience you must have had,” said Dorothy sitting down next to him.
“It w-was k-kinda hairy, ma’am,” stuttered Corky.
“What a nice attractive friend you have, Pappy,” she said to Thorton.
“He’s all right, if you can understand him. I can never understand the old bastard half the time,” said Thorton.
“The hell you d-don’t. I t-talk to you all the time. Y-you n-never said n-nothing before,” said Corky.
“He gets worse when he gets around fancy pussy, dontcha, Corky?” asked Thorton smiling at him. Corky started to blush.
“Hot d-dam, Thorton, you don’t have to embarrass me like that you know, huh.”
“Pappy, be nice. You’re a bad boy. I like this nice man. How many oil wells do you have, Corky?”
“I got ten, m-ma’am.”
“Ten! How wonderful,” replied Dorothy.
Clint had been on the balcony watching the activities below. He came back into the room.
“Come, quick! Take a look. President Bastista and his family are getting into the stands,” he said.
“Fuck him and the ship that brought him over,” said Thorton.
There was a knock at the door. Marshall went to open it. It was Jimmy and Tana.
“You sure took your time getting here. Thorton has been up all night. Corky surprised us. They’re both drunk. Corky is after Thorton for money to finish the well he’s drilling. He’s driving Thorton nuts. I got to get down to the pits before the race starts. Thorton is drinking straight scotch. I wanted to give him an IV this morning, but he wouldn’t do it. You got your hands full,” said Marshall as Jimmy entered the suite. Marshall picked up his gear and went to the door.
“I’ll be back after the race. I’m taking the two-way radio with me. I’ll keep in touch from the pits with the race details. The other receiver is by the window and it’s on. Bye.” Marshall left the suite.
Tana walked to the back of the sofa and rubbed Thorton on the top of his head. Thorton grabbed her hand. She wore tight black capri pants, black high heel shoes and a sexy off the sho
ulder blouse that showed off her sleek figure. Her hair was pulled back tight from her face into a bun, showing off her large, sloe, almond-shaped eyes.
“Did you know, Tana is the first negress they ever let in the Coconut Grove in Los Angeles. Who was that nigger you were with that night, honey?” asked Thorton.
“He’s no nigger. His name is Adam Clayton Powell. He’s a Negro gentleman and a representative of the United States Congress, if you please. Thorton, you’re BAD. Why do I put up with you?” Tana walked to the bar and made herself a drink.
“You like my money, honey. That’s why.”
Dorothy got up from the sofa and went to the bar and scowled back at Thorton. “Pappy, you’re a nasty old man. If I hear one more nigger out of you, I’m leaving and taking these nice people with me. Do you understand?”
Thorton quieted down acting uncomfortable. Dorothy and Tana stood at the bar talking quietly to each other.
“Thanks, dahlin, for sticking up for me. You didn’t have too.”
“I hate prejudice. I won’t put up with it. Anyway, let’s try to forget how awful Thorton is. You sure do get around. I understand you know Clint, too. Do you think he’s a good fuck?”
Tana broke into a laugh. “You’re asking me! He’s your boyfriend.”
“He’s my agent. We don’t fuck. I don’t mix up my priorities,” said Dorothy.
“Clint is a bit kinky,” said Tana.
“Oh, how’s that?” asked Dorothy.
“He’s asked me to bring a man to bed with us.”
“Do you think he’s gay?” asked Dorothy
“No … but he could be bisexual,” said Tana.
“Did you ask him?”
“No.”
“I’ve always been curious about black women, about their sexual anatomy, I heard you have a giant clitoris, almost like a penis. Is that true?”
“If you come to bed with me, dahlin, I’ll show you first-hand.”
“I’m not that curious. You’re a beautiful girl, but I’m not into women.”
“I like you and your honesty. I feel I could trust you. There’s this friend of mine who’d like you. He’s a German industrialist, tons of money and handsome. He comes to California a few times a year. The next time he’s in town, I’ll introduce you. You’d make a great couple, dahlin,” said Tana.
Confessions of a Hollywood Agent Page 13