Bat sighed. "There are things that— "
"Bat," Jonas interrupted firmly. "Marry Toni. Take a nice honeymoon. I mean, really nice: out of touch with the phones." He paused. For a moment he seemed to have difficulty with his voice. "You're my son. You're more important to me than things that might go to hell while you're away. I'm sorry I didn't say it before now, but ... you see ..." His voice broke. "I love you, son." His eyes shifted to Toni. "I love you, too. And Angie. Bat— It's not a business order. It's a father-to-son order."
"All right," said Bat softly. "And— And, I hope you understand— No, why should you understand? I'll say it, flat out. I love you, too."
Jonas grinned. "We've just broken a Cord family tradition." He laughed through tears.
EPILOGUE
JONAS AND ANGIE RETURNED FROM EUROPE FOR the grand opening show in the Follies Cabaret of the Cord InterContinental Vegas Hotel.
The headliners opening night were Maurice Chevalier, Glenda Grayson, and Margit Little. The theme of the show was Folies-Bergère, and the revue had been designed under the personal supervision of Paul Derval, owner and manager of the Folies in Paris.
Never before had so many showgirls appeared on a nightclub stage. Never before in America had so many showgirls performed in such elaborate costumes and yet so nearly nude. In one scene the showgirls swam in an onstage pool. In another some of them ice skated on real ice.
Margit performed a ballet solo. Though her leotards were high cut, they were modest by comparison with anything else in the show. Her television show was opening in October, and Bat would take no chance of damaging her television career.
Chevalier was his usual charming self with cane and straw hat, dancing a little but mostly singing his signature songs, such as "Valentina," "C'est Magnifique," and his new hit "Thank Heaven for Little Girls."
Glenda Grayson did her monologue in the first half of the show, coming on a bare stage in the tightly focused beam of a spotlight, wearing her black hat, a black corselette, showing the white skin of her upper thighs above dark stockings held up by red garters. She sang, but mostly she kept the audience roaring with laughter with a string of original one-liners. She returned to one of her favorite lines — "Y' wouldn't b'lieve it!" She finished with a line she had killed and now revived — "Golda, change your name. Please!" That line had always been poignant. The audience, who knew something of her history, was moved by it.
"It's been said of a great comic that he can make you laugh, then make you cry," said Jo-Ann, who sat at the table with Bat and Toni, Jonas and Angie. This was her first night out since the birth of her daughter.
For Glenda's second appearance, she was delivered on the stage in the middle of the finale, by a three-quarter-scale helicopter that descended over the audience at their tables and landed on the stage — on wires of course but realistic enough to draw loud applause just for the helicopter.
Four young male dancers lifted her from the helicopter and put her down on the stage. She was wearing the costume that had made her poison for television: the fifty strings of tiny, glittering black beads cascading from her shoulders over her body, down to her ankles. Only now, she wore nothing underneath; the thousands of beads fell over her body, not over a sheer black gown. Her modesty, if any, was protected by the tight control of the light that touched her. Her audience understood she was naked; but peer and squint though they might, they got no clear view of her. As she moved, the light dimmed, it changed color; lighting technicians had worked for two weeks to achieve the effect.
Chevalier came onstage in white tie and tails. They sang together, songs identified with both of them.
The dancers of the chorus worked around them, they upstage in bright light. They wore feathered headdresses and feather boas, but their breasts, bellies, and hips were bare. The muscular male dancers wore feathered and jeweled jockstraps.
The music of the pit orchestra rose and overwhelmed the singing. The revue was ending. The helicopter came down on its wires again and landed on the stage. Chevalier led Glenda to it. Her four dancers surrounded her and made ready to lift her into the helicopter. At the final moment, Glenda reached behind her neck and unfastened a clasp. The beads fell to the floor. The dancers lifted her. Her back was to the audience, but she was completely naked. They stood to applaud as the helicopter rose and swept out of the room.
Jonas grinned at Bat. "You've made her a big star again. And she'll schnook you again."
Bat shrugged. "Maybe."
"I'll promise you one thing," said Toni. "She won't screw him."
Jo-Ann laughed. "He's a Cord," she said.
"Dad, I want to thank you for renewing your contact with Paul Derval at the Folies."
"Interrupted my vacation," said Jonas.
"Speaking of which, when are you going to take a vacation?" asked Toni. "When are we going to take one?"
"That's hard to say."
"Have you become the indispensable man, son?" Jonas asked. "Haven't you learned better than that? I thought for Christ's sake that you'd— "
"Easy ..." whispered Angie, taking Jonas's hand.
Jonas pointed at Toni. "Before she gets too heavy," he said. "I never did get to Acapulco. Now, that'd be a good place for you two to go swimming— "
"I don't want to go swimming," said Toni. "I want to see Paris in the fall. I want to be able to take long walks in the streets, before the baby gets so big I can't do it."
"You do it, Bat," Jonas barked. "By God!"
"I thought you didn't give me orders anymore," said Bat gently.
"I don't try to be your boss anymore, but I'm still your fuckin' father! You take this girl wherever she wants to go!"
"You want to stay in Vegas and run things while I'm gone?"
Jonas shook his head. "Angie and I are flying to Honolulu on Monday. Then on to Tahiti. Then Australia and New Zealand."
Bat frowned at Toni. "Paris ... A week?"
"Two weeks," she said firmly.
The End