CHAPTER SEVEN
WITH THE BEGINNING of the season, there was some rain, not a great deal, but enough to put the desert flowers into bloom. Which brought the crowd from the capital. The movie people filled the hotels, and the season residents opened their homes. Movie stars were on the street, and gamblers, criminals with social cartel, models, entertainers, athletes, airplane manufacturers, even an artist or two. They came in all kinds of cars: in Cadillac limousines, in ruby convertibles and gold-yellow convertibles, in little foreign cars and big foreign cars. Then with the start of the season on me, I came to like the wall around my house which was always safe in the privacy it gave, and I would think at times how confusing the town must be to the day tourist who could drive through street after street and know no more of the resort than the corridors of an office building would tell about the rooms.
Eitel did not take to this invasion. He had come to prefer being alone, and was rarely to be seen at the hotel. One day when I stopped by his house, the phone rang in Eitel’s bedroom. From the den I could hear him talking. He was being invited to visit somebody who had just arrived at the Yacht Club, and after he hung up, I could feel his excitement. “How would you like to meet a pirate?” he said with a laugh.
“Who is it?”
“The producer, Collie Munshin.”
“Why do you call him a pirate?” I asked.
“Just wait until you meet him.”
But Eitel could not keep himself from saying more. I think he was irritated at how much pleasure the invitation gave him.
Munshin was the son-in-law of Herman Teppis, Eitel explained, and Teppis was the head of Supreme Pictures. Munshin had married Teppis’ daughter, and it had helped to make him one of the most important producers in the capital. “Not that he wouldn’t have made it anyway,” Eitel said. “Nothing could stop Collie.” He had been, I learned, a little bit of many things, a salesman, a newspaperman, a radio announcer for a small station, a press-relations consultant, an actor’s agent, an assistant producer, and finally a producer. “Once upon a time,” Eitel went on, “he was practically an office boy for me. I know the key to Collie. He’s shameless. You can’t stop a man who’s never been embarrassed by himself.”
Eitel began to change his shirt. By the way he picked his tie, I knew he did not feel nearly as casual as he was hoping to feel. “Wonder why he wants to see me?” he said aloud. “I suppose he wants to steal an idea.”
“Why bother?” I asked. “Nothing is cheaper than ideas.”
“It’s his technique. Collie gets a feeling about a story. Not anything you can really name. Some cloud of an idea. Then he invites a writer who’s out of work to come to lunch. He listens to the writer’s suggestions, and they talk the thing up. The next day he invites another man to lunch. By the time he’s talked to half a dozen writers he has a story and then he uses one of the peons he keeps locked in a hole to write the thing. When Collie is done, he can sell the story to the studio as his own creation. Oh, he’s clever, he’s tenacious, he’s scheming …” Eitel ran out of words.
“What’s to keep him from running the studio?” I asked.
“Nothing,” said Eitel, putting on a jacket, “he’ll run the world someday.” Then Eitel smiled. “Only first he has to learn how to handle me. Sometimes I can set him back.”
As he closed the door behind us, Eitel added, “There’s another thing which might hold him up. He’s having woman trouble.”
“Does he run around with so many?”
Eitel looked at me as if I had a lot to learn about the psychology of prominent men in the capital. “Why, no,” he said, “Collie has too many decisions to juggle, and that slows a man up, don’t you know? Besides, it’s not so easy to keep a harem when your wife is Herman Teppis’ daughter. You don’t even keep a fancy girl. Just a child in a cubbyhole and she’s caused him trouble enough with H.T. It’s some poor dancer. She’s been his girl for several years. I’ve never met her, but Collie will be the first to tell you the trouble she gives him. It’s a conventional relationship. She wants him to divorce his wife and marry her, and Collie lets her believe that he will. Poor boy, he can’t bear to let go of anything.” Eitel chuckled. “Of course, the girl friend makes him pay. When Collie’s not around, his little kitten will go for a romp. A couple of actors who’ve worked for me have been with her. They tell me she’s extraordinary in bed.”
“Isn’t that rough on him?”
“I don’t know,” Eitel said, “there are parts and parts to Collie. He enjoys being a martyr.”
“Sounds like a sad character to me.”
“Oh, everybody’s sad if you want to look at them that way. Collie’s not so bad off. Just remember there’s nobody like him in the whole world.”
We came to Munshin’s bungalow, and Eitel tapped the knocker on the pink-colored door. After a wait I could hear somebody running toward us, and then it flew open, and I had no more than the sight of the back of a fat man in a dressing gown who went bounding away to the phone, the gown flapping against his calves while he called over his shoulder, “Come in. Be with you in a minute, fellows.” He was talking in a high-pitched easy voice to somebody in New York, holding the receiver in his left hand while with his right he was neatly mixing drinks for us, not only carrying on his business conversation but opening a big smile across his face at the introduction to me. A little under medium height, with short turned-up features, he looked like a clown, for he had a large round head on a round body and almost no neck at all.
The drinks made, he passed them over with a wink, and his right hand free again, he began to tickle his thin hair, discovering a bald spot on his head and then patting it into hiding again, only to leave his head for his belly which he prodded gingerly as if to find out whether it concealed an ache. He certainly had a lot of energy; I had the idea it would be rare to see him doing one thing at a time.
Eitel sat down with a bored look and smiled at the producer’s calisthenics. When the call was done, Munshin bounced to his feet and advanced on Eitel with an outstretched palm, a grin on his face. “Charley!” he said, as if Eitel had just come into the room and he was surprised to see him. “You look great. How have you been?” Munshin asked, his free hand covering their handclasp. “I’ve been hearing great things about you.”
“Stop it, Collie,” Eitel laughed, “there’s nothing you can steal from me.”
“Steal? Lover, I just want to steal your company.” He clamped a bear-hug on Eitel’s neck. “You look great,” he repeated. “I’ve been hearing wonderful things about your script. I want to read it when it’s done.”
“I want to buy it.” He said this as if nothing was in the way of buying anything from Eitel.
“The only way I’ll let you buy it is blind.”
“I’ll buy it blind. If it’s from you, Charley, I’ll buy it blind.”
“You wouldn’t buy Shakespeare blind.”
“You think I’m kidding,” Munshin said in a sad voice.
“Stop it, Collie,” Eitel said again.
As he talked, Munshin kept on touching Eitel, pinching his elbow, patting his shoulder, jabbing his ribs. “Charley, don’t show your script to anybody. Just work on it. Don’t worry about your situation.”
“Get your greedy little hands off me. You know I’m going to make the picture by myself.”
“That’s your style, Charley,” Munshin said with a profound nod. “That’s the way you always should work.”
He told us a joke, passed a bit of gossip, and kept his hands on Eitel’s body in a set of movements which called up the picture of a fat house detective searching a drunk. Then Eitel walked away from him, and we all sat down and looked at each other. After a short silence, Munshin announced, “I’ve thought of a great movie to make.”
“What is it?” I asked, for Eitel only made a face. The producer gave the name of a famous French novel. “That author knows everything about sex,” Munshin said. “I’ll never be able to think I’m in love again.”
“Why don’t you do the life of the Marquis de Sade?” Eitel drawled.
“You think I wouldn’t if I could find a gimmick?”
“Collie,” Eitel said, “sit down and tell me the story you really have.”
“I don’t have a thing. I’m open to suggestion. I’m tired of making the same old stuff. Every man has an artistic desire in this business.”
“He’s absolutely unscrupulous,” Eitel said with pride. Collie grinned. He cocked his head to the side with the cunning look of a dog who is being scolded.
“You’re a born exaggerator,” Munshin said.
“You can’t stop Collie.”
“I love you.”
Munshin poured another drink for us. Like a baby, his upper lip was covered with perspiration. “Well, how are things?” he said.
“Just fine, Collie. How are things with you?” Eitel asked in a flat voice. I knew him well enough to know he was very much on guard.
“Charley, my personal life is in bad shape.”
“Your wife?”
Munshin stared into space, his hard small eyes the only sign of bone beneath his fat. “Well, things are always the same between her and me.”
“What is it then, Collie?”
“I’ve decided to give the brush to my girl friend.”
Eitel began to laugh. “It’s about time.”
“Now, don’t laugh, Charley. This is important to me.”
I was surprised at the way Munshin talked so frankly. He hadn’t known me fifteen minutes, and yet he was as ready to talk as if he were alone with Eitel. I was still to learn that Munshin, like many people from the capital, could talk openly about his personal life while remaining a dream of espionage in his business operations.
“You’re not really giving her up?” Eitel said lightly. “What’s the matter, has Teppis laid down the law?”
“Charley!” Munshin said, “this is a personal tragedy for me.”
“I suppose you’re in love with the girl.”
“No, now I wouldn’t say that. It’s hard to explain.”
“Oh, I’m sure of that, Collie.”
“I’m very worried about her future,” Munshin said, his fingers prodding his belly again.
“From what I’ve heard about her, she’ll get along.”
“What did you hear?” Munshin asked.
“Just that while she’s known you, she’s had her extracurricular activities.”
Munshin’s round face became tolerant and sad. “We live in a community of scandal,” he said.
“Spare me, Collie,” Eitel murmured.
Munshin was on his feet. “You don’t understand this girl,” he said in a booming voice. I was left behind by the sudden transition. “She’s a child. She’s a beautiful, warm, simple child.”
“And you’re a beautiful, warm, simple father.”
“I’ve defended you, Charley,” Munshin said. “I’ve defended you against stories which even you wouldn’t want to hear about yourself. But I’m beginning to think I was wrong. I’m beginning to think you’re nothing but rottenness and corruption.”
“Honest corruption. I don’t play the saint.”
“I’m not claiming I’m a saint,” Munshin bellowed again. “But I have feelings.” He turned in my direction. “What do you see when you look at a fellow like myself?” he asked. “You see a fat man who likes to play the clown. Does that mean I have no human sentiments?”
He was far from a clown at the moment. His mild high-pitched voice had swollen in volume and dropped deeper in tone. Standing over us, he gave me the feeling that he was a man of some physical power. “All right, Charley,” he said, “I know what you think of me, but I’ll tell you something. I may be a businessman, and you may be an artist, and I’ve great respect for your talent, great respect, but you’re a cold man and I have emotions, and that’s why you can’t understand me.”
Through this tirade, Eitel had been drawing on his cigarette. Nonchalantly, he put it out. “Why did you invite me over, Collie?”
“For friendship. Can’t you understand that? I wanted to hear your troubles, and I wanted to tell you mine.”
Eitel leaned forward, his broad body hunched on itself. “I have no troubles,” he said with a smile. “Let me hear yours.”
Munshin relaxed. “There are pluses as well as minuses to this affair. It’s easy to sneer at the girl,” he said. “I’ve sneered at her myself. When I first set her up, I thought, ‘Just another night-club dancer. A hot Italian babe with that hot Latin blood.’ Well, it’s a story, Charley. She may not be so brilliant, and she’s obviously from a poor background.” He looked at me. “I’ve always been full of prejudices about women,” Munshin said humbly. “You know, I’ve wanted girls with some class and distinction to them, and I’ll admit it, it’s what I still hold against Elena. She doesn’t match up to the people I know. But that doesn’t keep her from being very human.”
“Still, you’re giving her the brush,” Eitel said. “You’re giving the brush to a very human girl.”
“There’s no future for us. I admit it, you see, I admit my faults. I’m a social coward like everybody else in the industry.”
“So like all cowards you got tired of turning down her marriage proposals.”
“Elena’s not a schemer,” Munshin said firmly. “You want to know something? Just a couple of days ago I tried to give her a thousand dollars. She wouldn’t take it. Not once did she ever ask me to marry her. She’s not the kind who threatens. It’s just that I can’t stand the thought she has no future with me.”
“Herman Teppis can’t stand the thought either.”
Munshin allowed this to pass. “Let me tell you about her. She’s a girl who’s composed of hurts and emotion and dirt and shining love,” he said in the round categorical style of a criminal lawyer who wishes to attract all the elements in a jury. “I had my analyst send her to a friend of his, but it didn’t come off. She didn’t have enough ego to work on. That’s how serious the problem is.” Munshin held out a heavy palm as if to draw our attention. “Take the way I met her. She was doing a fill-in number at a benefit I ran. I saw her in the wings, dressed up, ready to go on. A real Carmen-type. Only, a Carmen shuddering with fright,” said Munshin looking at us. “She was practically clawing the hand off her partner. ‘There’s a human being in torment,’ I said to myself, ‘a girl who’s as wild and sensitive as an animal.’ Yet when she got up on the stage, she was all right. A good flamenco dancer. In and out, but talent. Afterward, we started talking, and she told me she couldn’t even eat a piece of bread on a day she was working. I told her I thought I could help her with some of her problems and she was grateful as a puppy. That’s how we started.” Munshin’s voice became heavy with emotion. “You, Eitel, you’d call that scheming, I suppose. I call it sensitivity and heartbreak and all kinds of hurts. She’s a girl who’s all hurts.”
As Munshin kept on talking, I had the idea he was describing her the way he might line up a heroine in a story conference, the story conference more interesting than the film which would come from it.
“You take the business of being Italian,” Munshin lectured us. “I can’t tell you the things I’ve learned, the human subtleties, and I’m a good liberal. For instance, if she was served by a Negro waiter, she always had the idea that he was being a little intimate with her. I talked to her about such problems. I explained how wrong it is to have prejudice against a Negro, and she understood.”
“Like that,” Eitel said, snapping his fingers.
“You stop it, Charley,” Munshin said, bobbing in his seat. “You understand what I mean. She was ashamed of her prejudice. Elena is a person who hates everything that is small in herself. She’s consumed by the passion to become a bigger person than she is, consumed, do you understand?” and he shook his fist.
“Collie, I really think you’re upset.”
“Take her promiscuity,” Munshin went on, as if he had not heard. “She’s the sort of girl who would love a husband and kids, a decent healthy mature relationship. You think it didn’t bother me, her seeing other men? But I knew it was my fault. I was to blame and I’ll admit it freely. What could I offer her?”
“What could the others offer her?” Eitel interrupted.
“Fine. Fine. Just fine coming from you. I’ll tell you, Charley, I don’t believe in double standards. A woman’s got just as much right as a man to her freedom.”
“Why don’t we start a club?” Eitel jeered.
“I’ve gone to bat for you, Eitel. I pleaded with H.T. not to suspend you after Clouds Ahoy. Are you so ungrateful that I have to remind you how many times I helped you make pictures you wanted to make?”
“And then you cut them to ribbons.”
“We’ve had our disagreements, Charley, but I’ve always considered you a friend. I don’t care what transpires between us today, it won’t affect my attitude toward you.”
Eitel smiled.
“I’m curious.” Munshin put his hands on his knees. “What do you think of Elena the way I’ve described her?”
“I think she’s better than you deserve.”
“I’m glad you say that, Charley. It means I’ve been able to convey her quality.” Munshin paused, and loosened the cord of his dressing gown. “You see, about an hour ago I told Elena we couldn’t go on.”
“An hour ago!”
Munshin nodded.
“You mean she’s here?” Eitel asked. “Here in town?”
“Yes.”
“You brought her out here to give her the brush?”
Munshin started to pace the floor. “I didn’t plan it. A lot of times I bring her along on my trips.”
“And let her stay in a separate hotel?”
“Well, I’ve explained the situation.”
“She’ll be here tomorrow.” Munshin blew his nose. “I had no idea it would happen like this. For months I knew I couldn’t go on with Elena, but I didn’t expect it for today.”
Eitel shook his head. “What do you want me to do? Hold her hand?”
“No, I mean …” Munshin looked miserable. “Charley, she doesn’t know a soul in this place.”
“Then let her go back to the city.”
“I can’t stand the thought of her being alone. There’s no telling what she’ll do. Charley, I’m going out of my mind.” Munshin stared at his handkerchief which he kept wadded in his hand. “Elena was the one who said we should break up. I know what it means to her. She’ll put the blame on herself. She’ll feel she wasn’t good enough for me.”
“It’s the truth, isn’t it?” Eitel said. “That’s how you feel.”
“All right, I’m the rotten one. I’m no good.” Munshin came to a stop in front of Eitel. “Charley, I remember you saying, its your exact words. You said that when you were a kid you always wondered how to get a woman, and now you wonder how to get rid of one.”
“I was bragging.”
“Can’t you sympathize?”
“With you?”
“Could you pay her a visit?”
“I don’t know her,” Eitel said.
“You could be introduced as a friend of mine.”
Eitel sat up. “Tell me, Collie,” he said, “is that why you loaned me the money two weeks ago?”
“What money?” said Munshin.
“You don’t have to worry about Sergius,” Eitel said, and he began to laugh. “I’m ashamed of you. Two thousand dollars is a lot of money for Carlyle Munshin to pay to have a broken-down director take a girl off his hands.”
“Charley, you’re a corrupt man,” Munshin said loudly. “I loaned you that money because I consider you my friend, and I oughtn’t to have to tell you that you could be more discreet. If word ever got around, I’d be in trouble up to here.” The producer held a finger to his throat “It’s Elena I’m thinking about now. Let this boy be the witness. If anything happens to her, part of it will be your fault.”
“There’s no limit to you, Collie,” Eitel started to say, but Munshin interrupted. “Charley, I’m not kidding, that girl should not be left alone. Do I say I’m in the right? What do you want, my blood? Offer a solution at least.”
“Turn her over to Marion Faye.”
“You’re a stone,” Munshin said. “A human being is in pain, and you say things like that.”
“I’ll see her,” I blurted suddenly.
“You’re a beautiful kid,” Munshin said levelly, “but this is not the job for you.”
“Keep out of this,” Eitel snapped at me.
“Even the kid here will go,” Munshin said. “Charley, tell me, is all the heart cut out of you? Isn’t there even a little bit left? Or are you getting too old to handle a real woman?”
Eitel lay back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, his legs spread before him. “Okay, Collie,” he said slowly, “okay. One loan deserves another. I’ll get drunk with your girl.”
“You’re a jewel, Charley,” Munshin said huskily.
“What if you-know-what happens?” Eitel drawled.
“Are you a sadist?” Munshin said. “I don’t even think of things like that.”
“Then what do you think of?”
“You’ll like Elena and she’ll like you. It’ll make her feel good to know that a fellow with your reputation and your presence admires her.”
“Oh, God,” Eitel said.
The phone was ringing.
Munshin tried to say something more as if he were afraid Eitel might change his mind, but the noise of the telephone was too distracting. Obeying the irregular rhythm of the switchboard operator, it would stop, it would be silent, and then it would ring again.
“Answer it,” Eitel said irritably.
Munshin pinched the receiver against his jowl. He was preparing to make another drink, but the sounds he heard through the earpiece stopped everything. We listened to a woman who was crying and laughing, and her fright quivered through the room. There was so much terror in the voice and so much pain that I stared at the floor in shock. One cry sounded, so loud in its loneliness I couldn’t bear it.
“Where are you, Elena?” Munshin said sharply into the mouthpiece.
Some climax passed. I could hear the sound of quiet sobbing. “I’ll be right over,” Munshin said. “Now, you stay there. You stay there, do you understand, Elena?” He had no sooner hung up the phone than he was drawing on a pair of trousers, fastening the buttons to a shirt.
Eitel was pale. “Collie,” he said with an effort, “do you want me to come along?”
“She’s in her hotel room,” Munshin said from the door. “I’ll call you later.”
Eitel nodded and sat back. We were silent once Munshin was gone. After a few minutes, Eitel got up and mixed a drink. “What a horrible thing,” he muttered.
“How does a man,” I asked, “stay with a woman who is so … It’s messy.”
Eitel looked up. “A little compassion, Sergius,” he said. “Do you think we choose our mates?” And, moodily, he sipped on his drink. “I wonder if I’ll ever know the answer to that one?” he said almost to himself.
Time passed, and we kept on drinking Carlyle Munshin’s liquor. Slowly, the afternoon went by. It seemed pointless to remain there, just as pointless to move on. Outside, there would only be the desert sun. “I’m depressed,” Eitel said with a broad grin after half a dozen drinks. I had the feeling his face was numb; slowly, with pleasure, he was patting the bald spot on his head. “Wonder how Collie is making out?” Eitel said after another pause.
As if to answer, there was a knock on the door. I went to open it, and an elderly man shouldered me aside and walked into the living room. “Where’s Carlyle?” he asked of nobody in particular, and left me to follow behind him.
Eitel stood up. “Well, Mr. Teppis,” he said.
Teppis gave him a sour look. He was a tall heavy man with silver hair and a red complexion, but even with his white summer suit and hand-painted tie he was far from attractive. Underneath the sun tan, his features were poor; his eyes were small and pouched, his nose was flat, and his chin ran into the bulge of his neck. He had a close resemblance to a bullfrog. When he spoke, it was in a thin hoarse voice. “All right,” he said, “what are you doing here?”
“Do you know,” Eitel said, “that’s a good question to ask.”
“Collie’s up to something,” Teppis announced. “I don’t know why he saw you. I wouldn’t even want to breathe the air a subversive breathes. Do you know what you cost me on Clouds Ahoy?”
“You forget the money I made for you … Herman.”
“Hah,” said Teppis, “now he calls me by my first name. They leave me and they go up in the world. Eitel, I warned Lulu against you. Marry a fine young American actress, a girl who’s too good for you, and you just drag her name through the muck and the dirt and the filth. If anybody saw me talking to you, I’d be ashamed.”
“You should be,” Eitel said. “Lulu was; a fine American girl, and you let me turn her into a common whore.” His voice was cool, but I could sense it was not easy for him to talk to Teppis.
“You have a dirty mouth,” Herman Teppis said, “and nothing else.”
“Don’t speak to me this way. I no longer work for you.”
Teppis rocked forward and back on the balls of his feet as if to build up momentum. “I’m ashamed to have made money from your movies. Five years ago I called you into my office and I warned you. ‘Eitel,’ I said, ‘anybody that tries to throw a foul against this country ends up in the pigpen.’ That’s what I said, but did you listen?” He waved a finger. “You know what they’re talking about at the studio? They say you’re going to make a comeback. Some comeback. You couldn’t do a day’s work without the help of the studio. I let people know that.”
“Come on, Sergius, let’s go,” Eitel said.
“Wait, you!” Teppis said to me. “What’s your name?”
I told him. I gave it with an Irish twist.
“What kind of name is that for a clean-cut youngster like you? You should change it. John Yard. That’s the kind of name you should have.” He looked me over as if he were buying a bolt of cloth. “Who are you?” said Teppis, “what do you do? I hope you’re not a bum.”
If he wanted to irritate me, he was successful. “I used to be in the Air Force,” I said to him.
There was a gleam in his eye. “A flier?”
Standing in the doorway, Eitel decided to have his own fun. “Do you mean you never heard of this boy, H.T.?”
Teppis was cautious. “I can’t keep up with everything,” he said.
“Sergius is a hero,” Eitel said creatively. “He shot down four planes in a day.”
I had no chance to get into this. Teppis smiled as if he had been told something very valuable. “Your mother and father must be extremely proud of you,” he said.
“I wouldn’t know. I was brought up in an orphanage.” My voice was probably unsteady because I could see by Eitel’s change of expression that he knew I was telling the truth. I was sick at giving myself away so easily. But it is always like that. You hold a secret for years, and then spill it like a cup of coffee. Or maybe Teppis made me spill it.
“An orphan,” he said. “I’m staggered. Do you know you’re a remarkable young man?” He smiled genially and looked at Eitel. “Charley, you come back here,” he said in his hoarse voice. “What are you flying off the handle for? You’ve heard me talk like this before.”
“You’re a rude man, Herman,” Eitel said from the doorway.
“Rude?” Teppis put a fatherly hand on my shoulder. “Why, I wouldn’t even be rude to my doorman.” He laughed and then began to cough. “Eitel,” he said, “what’s happened to Carlyle? Where’d he go?”
“He didn’t tell me.”
“I don’t understand anybody any more. You’re a young man, Johnny,” he said, pointing to me as if I were inanimate, “you tell me, what is everything all about?” But long before I could answer that question, he started talking again. “In my day a man got married, and he could be fortunate in his selection, or he could have bad luck, but he was married. I was a husband for thirty-two years, may my wife rest in peace, I have her picture on my desk. Can you say that, Eitel? What do you have on your desk? Pin-up pictures. I don’t know people who feel respect for society any more. I tell Carlyle. What happens? He wallows. That’s the kind of man my daughter wanted to marry. A fool who sneaks around with a chippie dancer.”
“We all have our peculiarities, Herman,” Eitel said.
This made Teppis angry. “Eitel,” he shouted, “I don’t like you, and you don’t like me, but I make an effort to get along with everybody,” and then to quiet himself down, he made a point of looking me over very carefully. “What do you do?” he asked again as if he had not heard my answer. “Are you an actor?”
“No.”
“I knew it. None of the good-looking clean-cut ones are actors any more. Just the ugly ones. Faces like bugs.” He cleared his throat with a barking sound. “Look, Johnny,” he went on, “I like you, I’ll do you a good turn. There’s a little party tomorrow night. I’m giving it for our people out here. You’re invited.”
The moment he gave this invitation, I knew I wanted to go to his party. Everybody in Desert D’Or had been talking about it for the last few days, and this was the first big party at the resort which I had been invited to. But I was angry at myself because I was ready to say yes, and in that second I almost forgot Eitel. So I told myself that I was going to play it through, and if Teppis wanted to invite me, and I didn’t know why, I was going to get him to invite Eitel.
“I don’t know if I want to go alone,” I said to him, and I was satisfied that my voice was even.
“Bring a girl,” Teppis offered. “You got a sweetheart?”
“It’s not easy to find the right girl,” I said. “I lost too much time flying airplanes.”
My instinct about Herman Teppis seemed to be working. He nodded his head wisely. “I see the connection,” he said.
“I was thinking Charley Eitel could help me find a girl,” I added.
For a second I thought I had lost it and Teppis was going to fly into a rage. He glared at both of us. “Who invited Eitel?” he said furiously.
“You didn’t invite him?” I said. “I thought maybe you did.”
With what an effort, Teppis smiled benevolently. “Johnny, you’re a very loyal friend. You got spunk.” In practically the same breath he said to Eitel, “Tell me, cross your heart, Charley, are you a Red?”
Eitel didn’t rush to answer. “You know everything, Herman,” he murmured at last. “Why ask questions?”
“I know!” Teppis shouted. “I know all about you. I’ll never understand why you made such a spectacle of yourself.” He threw up his arms. “All right, all right, I know you’re clean deep-down. Come to my party.” Teppis shook his head. “Only, do me a favor, Charley. Don’t say I invited you. Say it was Mac Barrantine.”
“This is one hell of an invitation,” Eitel answered.
“You think so, well don’t look a gift horse, you know what I mean? One of these days go clear yourself with the American government, and then maybe I’ll work with you. I got no objection to making money with people I don’t like. It’s my motto.” He took my hand and shook it firmly. “Agree with me, Johnny? That’s the ticket. I’ll see both you boys tomorrow night.”
On the drive back to Eitel’s house I was in a good mood. Teppis had been just right for me. I was even overexcited, I kept talking to Eitel about how it had felt the time I took my first solo. Then I began to realize that the more I talked the more depressed I made him feel, and so looking for any kind of question to change the subject I said, “What do you say about our invitation? Maybe there’s going to be just a little look on people’s faces when you turn up.” I started to laugh again.
Eitel shook his head. “They’ll probably say I’ve been having private talks with the Committee, or else why would Teppis have me there?” Then he grinned at the frustration of it. “Man,” he said, mimicking me, “don’t you just have to be good to win?” But there was more than enough to think about in this thought, and neither of us said another word until we turned into his garage. Then Eitel stopped the car with a jerk. “Sergius, I’m not going to that party,” he said.
“Well, if you won’t change your mind …” I wanted to go to the party, I was ready for it, I thought, but it was going to be harder without Eitel. I wouldn’t know anybody there.
“You did well, today,” he said. “You go. You’ll enjoy it. But I can’t go. I’ve been a bus boy to Teppis for too many years.” We went inside, and Eitel dropped into an armchair and pressed his hands to his forehead. The script was on the end table next to him. He picked it up, rustled the pages, and dropped it to the floor. “Don’t tell anybody, Sergius,” he said, “but this script stinks.”
“Are you sure?”
“I don’t know. I can’t get out of myself long enough to look at it.” He sighed. “If I ever bring it off, remind me, will you, of this conversation? You see, I’ve been trying to remember if I was as depressed in the old days when the work would come out well.”
“I’ll remind you,” I said.
A short while later, Munshin phoned Eitel. Elena was all right, he told him. She was sleeping. Tonight, he would take care of her. But for tomorrow he begged Eitel to show her a good time.
Eitel said he would. When the call was finished, his eyes were dancing. “Do you know,” he said, “I can hardly accuse myself of running after Teppis if I take Collie’s girl along.”
“But what about the girl?”
“It could be the best way to get over Mr. Munshin. She’ll see that a stranger will do more for her in a night than he did in three years.”
“What are you up to?” I asked.
“Yes, I’m going to take her to the party,” Eitel said.