«That sounds better—»
«But, Hawk, you listen to me,» broke in Madge of Worm City. «I know you sometimes get a little overprotective about us girls, and we love you for it, but you’ve got to promise me something.»
«What is it?»
«Don’t beat the shit out of Manny Greenberg. Don’t give him the deal, but don’t break his face.»
«Now, Midgey, that’s plain vulgar—»
«Gotta go, Mac. I’m getting near the finish line here and my word processor’s smoking. Call Ginny, darling. Love, as always.»
«The residence of Lord and Lady Cavendish,» announced the adenoidal Anglican on the line from California. «The name, please?»
«Guy Burgess calling from Moscow.»
«It’s all right, I’ve got it!» Ginny broke in quickly. «He’s such an old tease, Basil.»
«Yes, madam,» said the butler in a devastating monotone as he hung up the phone.
«Mac, sweetie, I’ve been waiting hours for your call. I’ve got wonderful news!»
«Which, I gather from Madge, includes not engaging Manny in hand-to-hand combat.»
«Oh, him—no, don’t, he can be useful in an auction but not if he’s in the hospital. To tell you the truth, I started with Manny, breaking my rule never to talk to ex-husbands while my lawyers are talking to their lawyers, and it worked.»
«What worked? What’s an auction?»
«Midgey says the concept is not only sensational, it’s a landmark in the worldwide gold stakes! She says it’s all there, everything—and it’s got everything! Actors—hunks, six of them—flying all over freeing hostages, capturing terrorists, and it’s all true. I gave Manny just a hint … after he agreed to leave the paintings alone, naturally … and when I told him that Chauncey was reaching some ‘cinema chaps’ in London, Manny screamed for his secretary to schedule the studio plane.»
«Ginny, for God’s sake, slow down! You’re grasshopping from one thing to another and not making sense… Now what’s Manny doing, and what did this ‘Chauncey’ do, and who the hell is he?»
«My husband, Mac!»
«Oh, the Grenadier, yes, I remember now. Damn fine regiments, all of ’em; first rate in combat. What did he do?»
«I told you, he’s a great admirer of yours, and when Madge called and began explaining what you had on those tapes, I asked him to get on the line—what with his being so military and everything.»
«What did he think?»
«He said it was similar to the Fourth or Fortieth Royal Commandos who were recruited from the Old Vic and had what he called ‘only marginal success,’ because they kept ‘breaking silence.’ He wants to talk to you about it and compare notes.»
«Goddamn, put him on the phone, Ginny!»
«No, Mac, there isn’t time. Besides, he’s not here. He’s over at the armory in Santa Barbara playing polo with the British colony.»
«So what did he do?»
«Hawk, you must be tired and need to have your shoulders massaged. I told you. He thought the whole thing Midgey’s putting together for you has the earmarks of a megahit and called some friends of his in London to let them know about it.»
«So?»
«They’re taking the early morning Concorde and will be here before they took off from London.»
«Be where?»
«In New York. To see you.»
«Tomorrow … today?»
«Where you are, yes.»
«And your ex, Greenberg?»
«Tomorrow morning—this morning for you. Also, since I had Manny and Chauncey’s friends on the record—out here everyone checks out everything, including airline passenger lists and the schedules of studio planes—I called a few other hotshots who want Chauncey at their dinner tables, and gave out a little inside information. You’re going to have a busy day, sweetie.»
«By Caesar, you’re on the mark, it is wonderful! But frankly, Gin-Gin, I knew you girls would come through for me, except I sort of figured later on, like early next week—not Friday to Monday, of course, because I’m kind of tied up with other endeavors—»
«Mac, you said, and I quote! ‘In a day!’»
«Well, surely I did, but that was to get the writing stuff out of the way and somehow have it in the hands of those Beverly Hills buddhas over the weekend and get things rolling on Monday or Tuesday.»
«Look here, once-great husband of mine and dearest friend I’ve ever had, what the hell are you trying to tell me?»
«Well, Gin-Gin—»
«Cut the ‘Gin-Gin’ crap, Hawk. When you found Lillian in that run-down gym and decided she needed more help than me, that’s how you started with us, with the Gin-Gin. Then Lil told me that when you ran across Midgey in that coke bust where you wondered where the cola was, she said you began by saying ‘Lilly-Lilly.’ What is it, Mac? We love you, you know that. Why is tomorrow morning a problem? If it’s another wife, we’ll understand and take her under our wings when the time comes.»
«It’s nothing like that, Ginny. But it’s goddamned important—for a lot of people, a lot of underprivileged people.»
«You’re tilting at windmills again, aren’t you, my dearest friend?» said Lady Cavendish softly. «I’ll call everything off, if you like. I can do it—actually, you can do it by not answering the phone or the door. The vultures have only a room number, Suite Twelve A, no name, no identification.»
«No, no, I’ll handle it—we’ll handle it.»
«We?»
«I’ve got the boys all here. I just figured on keeping them here until my other problem is solved.»
«The Suicidal Six?» cried Ginny. «They’re there at the Waldorf?»
«The whole half dozen, kid.»
«Are they hunks?»
«They’re that and more than that in varying sizes. What’s more important, they expect something from me.»
«Then deliver, Mac. You never failed any of us.»
«One, maybe.»
«Annie?… Get off it, Hawk. She got through to me last week on some radio phone with a lot of static. She managed to fly out a dozen really sick children from an island in the Pacific for treatment in Brisbane. She’s happy as can be. Isn’t that what it’s all about? Being happy with yourself? That’s what you taught us.»
«Tell me, does she ever mention Sam Devereaux?»
«Sam …?»
«You heard me, Ginny.»
«Well, yes, she does, but I don’t think you want to hear it, Mac. Leave it lie.»
«I want to hear it. He’s my friend.»
«Still?»
«By circumstance, yes.»
«All right… She says she remembers him as the only man she ever slept with—it was ‘a communion of love,’ that’s the way she put it. All the others are forgotten.»
«Will she ever come back?»
«No, Mac. She’s found what you wanted her to find—what you wanted all of us to find. Comfort in our own skins, remember telling us that?»
«Damned psycho-bullshit!» exclaimed Hawkins, once again wiping a tear from his eye in front of a pay telephone. «I’m no goddamned savior of goddamned souls, I just know who the hell I like and who the hell I don’t like. Don’t put me on any goddamned pedestal!»
«Whatever you say, Hawk, and anyway, you’d crush it.»
«Crush what?»
«The pedestal. Now what about tomorrow morning?»