“It can’t happen fast enough for me,” he replied, kissing her.
They sat on boxes on the rear deck and watched the red ball of the sun sink into the Pacific.
33
The day after finishing the interiors for Bitter Creek, Vance Calder closed on his new house. All he did was take a check for eighty-five thousand dollars to David Sturmack’s office, sign some documents and watch while Sid Brooks signed them as well. Alice Brooks had already sent a power of attorney from New York, so her attorney signed for her. He rode the elevator downstairs with Sid, and they chatted in the parking lot for a moment.
“The house is ready to move into,” Sid said, “and the housekeeper has spent the last three days cleaning it thoroughly and washing the windows. She can tell you anything you need to know about how the place works. You’ve got her number. And here’s the Japanese gardener’s number, too; you’ll need him, since the property is heavily planted.”
“Thanks, Sid,” Vance said. “When will you take the things that you and Alice want?”
“Already done,” Sid replied. “Now all I have to do is sell the apartment house in Santa Monica, and I’m done with Alice. I’ve already signed a lease for my apartment there.”
“We finished shooting Bitter Creek yesterday, and I want to thank you again for that experience.”
“Rick showed me the rough cut, and I think it looks great,” Sid said. “It’s certainly my best work so far. Rick sent me a publicity bio of Harlan Rawlings, which is the pseudonym they’re using for my screen credit. Seems Harlan is a first-time screenwriter who lives alone on his ranch in a remote part of Wyoming and doesn’t give press interviews.”
Vance laughed. “Oh, I’ve met Harlan.”
“It’s funny, especially when the writer is a nice Jewish boy from the Lower East Side who’s never been on a horse.”
Vance held out his hand. “I hope things work out so that I can work in a lot of other Sid Brooks scripts. Good luck to you, Sid.”
“Thanks, Vance, I hope for that, too. Oh, here are your keys.” He held out a clump of half a dozen, all tagged.
The two men parted and went their separate ways.
Vance found a pay phone and called Susie Stafford at her cottage at the studio. “Got a pencil?”
“Yep.”
“Write down this address.” He dictated it. “The place is a couple of blocks above Sunset Boulevard. I’ll meet you there in half an hour.”
“Okay, but why?”
But Vance had already hung up. He had told her nothing about the house.
Vance arrived first and unlocked the front door with his new key. He walked into the house and found everything in pristine order. He noticed a couple of blank spaces on the walls where pictures had hung, and some furniture was missing from the living room, but the place looked just great. He went and sat on the little front porch to wait for Susie.
Susie parked her car beside Vance’s in the circular drive, ran up the front steps and gave him a kiss. “So what’s the big mystery, and whose house is this?”
“It’s mine,” Vance said. “Come on in, and I’ll show it to you.” He led her into the living room.
“You bought this place?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“We closed half an hour ago.”
“But you haven’t been looking at houses; we’ve been too busy shooting.”
“I bought it from Sid Brooks. He and Alice are divorcing and decided to sell.”
“But you said you’d never go into debt for anything, not even a house.”
“I won’t be in debt for long,” Vance said. “My agent and Rick are already working on a new deal for me after we finish two more pictures.”
“Wow. It’s beautiful, Vance.”
“Come on. Let me show you the master suite.” He led her upstairs and showed her the sunny bedroom and the two dressing rooms and baths. “Think you can fit your stuff in here?” he asked, waving an arm at the shelves and closets.
“Are you kidding? I’d have to shop for a month to half fill it.”
“You’d better get started, then.”
She turned and looked at him. “What does all this mean, Vance? You’re not asking me to... I mean, it’s way too soon to...”
“I’m not suggesting anything permanent; we have a lot to learn about each other. I just thought we’d learn it faster if we moved in together full time.” He kissed her.
“We can’t let anybody know about this. If the columnists ever got hold of it they’d be telling the world we’re living in sin, and my parents would read about it in the Atlanta paper.”
“The studio publicity department will handle all that. You think we’ll be the only couple in pictures living together?”
“Come on,” she said. “Show me the rest.”
He showed her the two guest rooms. “Plenty of room for your parents to visit.”
“Are you kidding? They’d take one look and return me to Delano under armed guard!”
“Okay, okay. I get the picture.”
They looked at the study, the dining room and the kitchen.
“I can cook here!” she enthused.
“You cook? I thought you were only good at acting and sex.”
She punched him in the stomach. “Come on, let’s see the backyard.”
They went out the kitchen door, rounded a hedge and were confronted with a pool and a tennis court.
“Holy cow!” Vance said. “I didn’t see this before!”
“Who’s going to keep the place looking like this?”
“Oh, it comes with a housekeeper and a Japanese gardener.”
“I’m going to have to take tennis lessons,” Susie said.
“So am I. I’ve been working since I was fourteen, so I’ve never had time to learn.”
“By the way, buster,” she said, “I got a look at your passport the other day.”
“Uh-oh.”
“I got the shock of my life. Do you know I’m five years older than you?”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, it’s only four years, because today is my birthday.”
“I know it is,” she said, reaching into her handbag and coming out with a small, beautifully wrapped gift. “I saw your passport, remember?”
Vance took her back into the house, they sat on a living room sofa and he unwrapped it. “A Cartier watch!” he said, surprised. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s called the ‘tank’ watch, because it was designed for the tank corps in the first war or something like that. Now, will you please throw away that ratty thing you’ve been wearing since I met you?”
Vance unbuckled his five-dollar watch, tossed it into a nearby wastebasket and put on the new one. “Gorgeous.”
“Now the watch is as nice as that one suit of yours,” Susie said. “By the way, it’s time you went shopping for clothes; you can’t rely on the Centurion wardrobe department to dress you for every occasion forever. I’ll go with you, if you like.”
“That one I can handle on my own,” Vance said.
“Well, if the one suit is any example, I guess you can.”
Vance scooped her off the sofa, carried her upstairs and tossed her on the bed. “Let’s christen the place,” he said, peeling off her sweater.
“You betcha,” she replied, working on his buttons.
34
As Bitter Creek was being completed, Vance’s and Susie’s days were largely taken up with meeting newspaper editors from all over the country who were flown to L.A. for individual meetings and big press conferences. They were all housed at the Beverly Hills Hotel, and Vance and Susie had suites reserved where they did the interviewing. Once, they had nearly been caught in bed together by an editor who arrived early for his interview.