“Two such all-American stories,” Susie said.
“One all-American, one all-English,” he corrected.
She poured herself some wine. “There’s something else you’d better know about me; you may already have heard it, but I’d prefer you had the real story from me.”
“All right.”
“When I was in New York, after college, I roomed with a beautiful girl who, well, preferred other beautiful girls to men. I also saw men, on the sly, but she and I were a couple, sort of, and I liked the sex. Then, just before I came out here, she surprised me by telling me that she was getting married. To a man, by the way.”
“Were you upset?”
“Not really. I knew I was, basically, heterosexual, though I doubt that she was. It came at a good time, since I was coming out here, anyway.”
“I’m glad you told me, but...”
“There’s more,” Susie said. “When I got the part at RKO, I was staying at the Studio Club — a kind of dormitory for aspiring actresses — and a script girl on the picture offered to share her apartment with me. I moved in, and we had pretty much the same sort of relationship that I had had in New York, except I was not as comfortable with it. I resolved to move out when I got back from our location shoot, and I had planned to do so tomorrow.”
“Anything else?” Vance asked.
“Nope, that’s it. I wanted you to know.” She laughed. “I don’t ever want anyone else to know, though, so promise me you’ll keep it to yourself.”
“Of course I will.”
“Any questions?”
“Will you move in with me? Just you, no girls. Unless we share them, of course.”
She laughed. “You betcha I will, starting right now. I do want to keep the pretense of having my own place, though, which will be easy, now that Rick has given me the little half cottage.”
“That’s fine with me. I don’t want to live on the lot forever. I’d like to buy a house as soon as I can afford one.”
“Let’s cross that bridge when we burn it behind us,” she said. “Now can we go into the bedroom and fuck each other’s brains out?”
“Oh, yes.”
And they did.
28
Rick called Hyman Greenbaum when he couldn’t reach Sid Brooks by phone, then Sid called him back, and they made a dinner date at a little place on Santa Monica Boulevard.
Rick went into Eddie Harris’s office. “I have a dinner date with Sid Brooks,” he said.
“I’ll get that check cut,” Eddie replied, picking up the phone.
“Can you raise that much cash?” Rick asked. “If Sid’s in the middle of a divorce, I think he’d rather not deposit it into a bank account.”
“Not to mention avoiding taxes,” Eddie said.
“I’ll spread it among the production costs of Bitter Creek.”
“Okay, but don’t make a habit of this. My girl will bring it to you.” He held out an envelope. “Here’s what Sid needs to sign. Don’t forget to ask him what pseudonym he wants to use.”
Rick arrived at the restaurant on time, and Sid was already sitting at the bar. They shook hands and were led to a booth.
“How are you doing?” Rick asked.
“Better,” Sid replied. “I had a few bad days, especially when I learned that Alice was leaving and that she had taken everything I had with her. Hy sent me to a lawyer named David Sturmack; one phone call from him to her lawyer and my part of the money is back in the bank, and I’m living in my own house again. The phone number will be the same.”
“I’m glad to hear it, Sid. Who is this Sturmack? I’ve never heard of him.”
“Somebody Hy recommended; they’re in the same building. He’s only twenty-nine years old, and he came out of the war a colonel, and Hy says he’s very well connected, whatever that means.”
They ordered drinks and got menus. When their order was in, Rick got down to business. “Have you and Hy talked about what working is going to be like after the hearings?”
“Yes, at some length. What it boils down to is that I’m going to have to work under pseudonyms, and I won’t get my usual price.”
“I don’t want to know the pseudonyms, Sid, but I want to see whatever you want to write. We’ll have to keep it at arm’s length, just in case I get subpoenaed, or if questions arise from other studios.”
“I understand, Rick. I certainly don’t want to cause you and Eddie any embarrassment in the industry.”
“Eddie and I would just as soon tell all of them to go to hell, but there’s another consideration: the American Legion and some new groups plan to boycott and picket any films that have blacklisted writers, directors or actors associated with them.”
“All the more reason for pseudonyms,” Sid replied.
“This means we’re going to have to put a pseudonym on your credit card for Bitter Creek, too.”
Sid looked taken aback but nodded. “I guess that was inevitable.”
“Sid, you have a contract with us that guarantees your single-card credit on this picture, so you can sue us if you want to and probably win. It’s what I’d do in your position.”
“It’s what I would have done a couple of weeks ago, but it wouldn’t be in my interest to do that. I’m just going to have to lump it until things change.”
“I hope they change quickly, Sid. I really do.”
“Look, I’m the architect of my own fate, here; I’m not looking to blame anybody else.”
Rick nodded. Their food came and they ate quietly, making only desultory conversation. When the plates had been taken away and coffee served, Rick spoke up again. “I have a couple of pieces of good news, though.”
“I’ll take all the good news I can get,” Sid said.
“First, the bad news: Alan James’s picture, Dark Promise, was scheduled to open at Christmas at Radio City Music Hall, but because of the circumstances surrounding his death and, of course, because of the hearings, it was cancelled. Yesterday the distributors came to see Eddie, saw the incomplete rough cut of Bitter Creek, and offered us the slot at the Music Hall.”
“That’s wonderful!” Sid said. “I’m delighted.”
“It makes removing your credit all the more painful.”
“Don’t worry about that; it’ll be great for everybody who worked on it. Anyway, a lot of people around town know I wrote it; I’ll get a few pats on the back even if I don’t get a nomination.”
“Oh, Eddie wants you to sign this.” He gave Sid the envelope and watched as he read it and readily signed it.
Rick put a thick manila envelope on the table and shoved it across. “Here’s the other good news: we’re paying you another fifty thousand for your script. The envelope is full of cash, hundreds and fifties. We cleaned out the vault at the studio.”
Sid opened the envelope, peered inside and grinned. “I’ve never seen this much money before.”
“Neither have I. Of course, you don’t have to mention this to Alice or the IRS. If you want to pay Hy his commission, that’s up to you.”
“Of course I’ll pay Hy, but Alice can whistle for it; this is not marital income.” He patted the envelope as if it were a puppy. “Thank you, Rick, and thank Eddie for me, too. This will go a long way toward keeping me on my feet after the divorce.”
“Do you know what that’s going to cost you?”
“I had a second meeting with Doug Sturmack this afternoon, and he tells me, since Alice and I were married for twelve years and all during the time I made any money, I’d better get used to the idea of giving her half of everything. In the end we’ll have to sell the house and the apartment building in Santa Monica and split the proceeds.”