"Goddamn, now I'll have to have my pants pressed. You're soaking!"
"I'm not worth it to you to have your goddamned pants pressed? Go to hell!"
"I don't know if you know this or not, but when you sit down wearing a towel, people can see everything you've got-Alejandro, for example."
"Why do I think Poppa has had a bad day?" Veronica asked.
"Because it was a bitch," he said. "I now know what the Marine Corps does when they get stuck with idiot officers; they put them in public relations."
"You're in public relations, Poppa. What does that make you?"
"An idiot," he said, and laughed. "How was your day?"
"We looped, all goddamn day," she said. "Jean Jansen can't remember her lines when she's reading them from a script. And Janos, of course, had to be there.... It was the first time I ever looped anything, of course, and he had to tell me how to do it."
"You're almost finished, aren't you?"
"We were supposed to be finished today. I told that pansy sonofabitch to get one of his boyfriends to dub it for me, if he can't finish it by noon tomorrow."
"You didn't really?"
"No. I wanted to. But I knew that if I did, he'd throw a hysterical fit, and we'd be in there for the rest of the week. I did tell him I don't give a good goddamn how inconvenient it is, or who else he has to reschedule, if he can't finish my part by tomorrow, I'm going to get sick."
Alejandro opened the balcony door, and Veronica quickly slid out of Jake's lap.
"I wish you hadn't said what you did about the towel," she said. "Not that he hasn't seen something like that before."
"Something similar, maybe," Jake said, "but not something like that."
"Aren't you sweet!"
"Alejandro, I don't care if the Pope calls, I'm not here," Jake said.
"Si, Se¤or Jake. You eat here?"
"What have we got to eat?"
"We got fish for broil, and a piece pork. Can either roast or make chops?"
"Honey?" Jake asked.
"What did you call me?"
"Slip of the tongue," Jake said.
"Your tongue never slips, Jake, my darling," she said, and turned to Alejandro. "Whichever is easiest, Alejandro."
"Si, se¤ora."
He left.
"What did he call me? 'Senora'?"
"Si, Se¤ora."
"What does that mean in Spanish?"
"Lady Who Goes Around In Towel Showing Everything."
"It means 'Missus,' not 'Miss,' you bastard."
"Slip of the tongue."
"I like that: 'Se¤ora Dillon.' How does that sound to you?"
"Don't start that kind of thing now," Dillon said.
"Why not? You've got a wife or something I don't know about?"
"Just to keep the record clear. No wife. Ex or otherwise."
"Then why not?"
"Come on, Veronica."
"If it's supposed to be so goddamned self-evident, how come I don't understand?"
The telephone rang.
Now I'm sorry I told him to say I'm not here. What I need right now is an interruption.
"Jake?"
Alejandro appeared, carrying a telephone with a very long cord.
"Is four eleven, Senor Jake," he said, handing him the handset and setting the base down on the table beside him.
"I thought you told him no calls."
"This is my private line," he said, and then, "Hello?"
"Jake, I hope I'm not interrupting anything," said James Allwood Maxwell, Chairman of the Board of Metro-Magnum Studios, Inc.
"How are you, Jim? Of course not."
"Who is that?" Veronica asked, and tried to put her ear to the handset.
"Jake, there were those on the board who thought I was carrying corporate loyalty a step too far when I announced we would continue you on full salary when you went in uniform...."
What the hell is this? What comes next? "We've had a bad year, and there's nothing I can do about it. I tried. But New York, those bastards say there is no way we can justify that nonproducing expense any longer"? Shit, that's all I need. What The Corps is paying me won't pay the taxes on this place. I'll have to let Alejandro and Maria go. What the hell will they do? Shit!
"... but my position then, my position now, and what I told them, was that I never-Metro-Magnum never-paid Jake Dillon a dime that didn't come back like the bread Christ threw on the water."
But? Is this where we talk about those cold-blooded bastards in New York who don't understand because they are incapable of understanding? All they know is the bottom line?
"I don't mind telling you, Jake, that when you smoothed things over between Veronica and Janos Kazar, I felt my decision to keep you on as a member of the Metro-Magnum family was absolutely justified.... The way those two were at each other's throats, it was costing us more money than I like to think about...."
"Veronica is a sensitive artist, Jim. I really don't think Janos fully appreciates that."
Hearing her name, Veronica made another attempt to place her ear against the headset. Jake stood and walked away from her.
"Jake, I certainly don't want to argue the point, but calling him a Hungarian cocksucker at the top of her lungs in the commissary didn't make him look fondly at her. He's sensitive, too."
"Who is that? Are you talking about me?" Veronica asked.
She caught up with Jake, and he gave in. He held the receiver an inch from his ear so she could hear.
"Well, Jim, I think that's all water under the dam. I talked to Veronica today, and she tells me that they're going to wind up the looping tomorrow."
"So I understand," he said. "But let me continue. My point is that my judgment in keeping you on salary was justified by what you did for Metro-Magnum when you made peace between Veronica and Janos. And now this!"
Now this what? What the fuck is he talking about?
"She photographs like Bergman," Mr. Maxwell went on. "And her speaking voice. I wouldn't want that you should repeat this, but I ran the test again for Shirley, for her opinion..."
Shirley was Mrs. James Allwood Maxwell, a long-legged blonde who was almost a foot taller than her husband.
"... and Shirley said, about her voice, I mean, that it would even make Janos horny."
This can't be what I think he's talking about.
"Well, we all respect Shirley's judgment, Jim."
"So I thank you, my friend, on behalf of the entire Metro-Magnum family, for Dawn Morris."
"I thought that you would appreciate the same things I saw in her, Jim."
"We have major plans for her, Jake. Major plans. She's our answer to Lauren Bacall."
"I'm pleased it turned out well, Jim."
" 'Well' is a gross understatement," Mr. Maxwell said. "And Mort Cooperman had a splendid idea, Jake. And I'm sure it will please you. We can get some instant publicity out of it, and so can you. By you I mean the Marines. Mort wants to send her on the war bond tour with you. I told him I thought you would be pleased."
"Delighted."
"Good. Mort will be in touch. Such a pleasure hearing your voice, Jake."
"Good to talk to you, Jim."
The line went dead.