“I don’t think I’ve ever felt so helpless,” Stone said. “I had it all together, and now it’s gone. Centurion is going to become a shell of a studio and will probably get snapped up by some conglomerate that knows nothing about making movies.”
“At least Arrington will come out unscathed in the deal,” Ed said.
“Yes, but the studio that produced all the films that made Vance Calder rich, then Arrington, will be gone.”
“Companies come and go,” Mike said. “It’s the American way. Used to be a successful business could endure for a century or more; now they last about as long as restaurants.”
“I’m glad Vance Calder isn’t alive to see this,” Stone said. “He did as much as anyone alive to ensure the success of Centurion. Did you know that he made more than seventy films there, not one of them for another studio?”
“I didn’t know that,” Ed said. “It’s a remarkable record.”
“He also made nearly every one of them for a minimal fee and a percentage of the gross. Every time one of his movies is shown anywhere, Vance-or rather, Arrington-gets a nice check.”
“I guess that in a few years, young Peter will be a very rich fellow,” Mike said.
“Yes, and I’m now his trustee, so it will be up to me to help him hold it together-what’s left of it.”
“Good luck dealing with all that,” Ed said. “It’s more than enough to destroy any young man with too much, too soon.”
“I’m going to try to write the trust documents-with Woodman amp; Weld’s help-in such a way that he’ll be eased into it gradually.”
“I hope, for your sake, Stone,” Ed said, “that nothing happens to Arrington for a long time. You could end up running what’s left of Centurion for Peter.”
“Perish the thought,” Stone said.
“I wish I had something to offer that would help you tomorrow,” Ed said.
“So do I,” Mike echoed.
“At this point,” Stone said, “Nobody can do anything. We’ll just have to let avarice take its course.”
Driving back to the Calder house, Dino said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so sad.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so sad,” Stone said.
50
Stone slept fitfully, when he slept at all. He had a recurring dream of Terry Prince on a bulldozer, razing the soundstages at Centurion. He finally got out of bed, shaved, showered, dressed, and walked out to the patio.
It was too early for Manolo to be about, but Dino had made a pot of coffee in the guesthouse kitchenette, and he held up a cup for Stone. “Feeling any better?” he asked as Stone took a seat.
“No,” Stone said, “not at all.”
“I wish there were something I could do to help,” Dino said, then he brightened. “Actually, there is something I can do.”
“What?”
“You’ve got Arrington’s signature on the agreement to sell this property to Prince, haven’t you? And his check for twenty-five million dollars?”
“Yes.”
“Here’s my advice: cash the check, get it cleared as quickly as possible, and give Prince the agreement as soon as you see him.”
“Why are you giving me that advice?” Stone asked.
Dino shrugged. “Suffice it to say that it’s my best advice, and I don’t think you would regret taking it.” Stone started to respond, but Dino held up a hand. “That’s all I have to say on the subject.”
“All right, I won’t press you. I’ll call Eggers when New York opens for business and get it done.”
Dino smiled happily. “This is going to be a good day,” he said. “I can feel it coming.”
“I wish I could share your optimism,” Stone said.
“What’s the song say? ‘Don’t worry, be happy!’ ”
“That’s mindless optimism,” Stone said.
“No, it’s not. I told you, I have a feeling.”
“You get these feelings all the time, do you?”
“No, just once in a while, but they’re always right.”
“How about the Centurion business? You have a feeling about that?”
“Nope, just about the day in general. I think we should have a celebratory dinner.”
“Even if you don’t know what we’ll be celebrating?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t know anything,” Dino said. “I just don’t know how the Centurion thing is going to play out.”
“You’re making me crazy,” Stone said. “I’ve never seen you like this. Did you take some weird kind of sleeping pill that hasn’t worn off yet?”
“Nope, I never need sleeping pills. I sleep like a Labrador retriever.”
“Why do you say that? You don’t have a Labrador retriever.”
“No, but I met one, once, and I was impressed with the way he slept.”
Stone’s cell buzzed, and he picked it up. “Hello?”
“Good morning, it’s Eggers. This is your big day, isn’t it?”
“That’s what Dino says, but I’m not too sure. Things haven’t gone well here the past couple of days.”
“So why is Dino so up?”
“Who knows? He says he has a feeling.”
“He’s Italian; I wouldn’t discount it.”
“Why did you call, Bill?”
“Just to wish you luck at your stockholders’ meeting today.”
“Well, I was going to call you at nine, New York time, so I’m glad you called.”
“What can I do for you, Stone?”
“I have a check from Terry Prince made out to Arrington in the amount of twenty-five million dollars. How can I cash it before he changes his mind?”
“Jesus, what’s it for?”
“It’s a non-refundable deposit on the sale of her Bel-Air property to him.”
“What bank is it drawn on?”
Stone got out the check and looked at it. “Wells Fargo,” he said.
“What branch?”
“It’s on Wilshire, near Prince’s offices.”
“Here’s what you do: you be at the branch when it opens and ask for the manager. You show him the sales contract-has Prince signed it?”
“Yes, it came already signed.”
“Has Arrington signed it?”
“Yes.”
“Get her to endorse the check, too. Then you tell the manager you want the funds wired to our trust account immediately. Got a pen?”
Stone got out his pen and jotter pad. “Ready.”
Eggers dictated the account number. “He’ll feel better about wiring it to our account, instead of a private account. Tell him to make the wire to my attention.”
“What, so you won’t get it mixed up with all the other wires for twenty-five million dollars?”
“Yeah. I’ll have somebody call you when the funds are in our account, and we’ll transfer the money to Arrington’s account at Chase this morning.”
“Okay, I’ll follow your instructions.”
“Good. By the way, I sent you a little gift package; you’ll get it by FedEx, early delivery.”
“Is it a fruit basket, Bill?”
“Not exactly, but you could look at it that way.”
“Chocolates?”
“Again, not exactly.”
“Well, I just can’t wait! I’m on pins and needles!”
“Oh, shut up. I have to go to work, now; they get up early at Boeing.” He hung up.
Stone turned to Dino. “I have to be at Prince’s bank, on Wilshire, when it opens.”
“You do that,” Dino said.
Arrington came out to the patio in pajamas and a dressing gown, glowing, in spite of no makeup. “Good morning, all,” she said. “I think this is going to be a wonderful day!”
“Talk to Dino,” Stone said, handing her Prince’s check. “In the meantime I need you to endorse this check.”
“Of course,” she said, signing it with a flourish.
Manolo appeared to take their breakfast order, and he was holding a FedEx box. “This just came for you, Mr. Stone,” he said, handing it to him.
Stone looked at the waybill. “It’s a gift from Bill Eggers,” he said. He ripped open the box and shook another, more elegant box from it. He opened the box and removed some tissue paper. Underneath was a stack of Woodman amp; Weld stationery and envelopes and a smaller box. Stone shook that open, and it was filled with cards. He held one up and read it: it proclaimed him a partner of Woodman amp; Weld. He handed one each to Arrington and Dino. “My card,” he said, then he looked at the letterhead and found his name among those of the partners listed there. “Congratulations!” Arrington and Dino said simultaneously. Stone glowed.