Beverly Hills Dead (15 page)

"Uh-oh."

"Yeah, it's like that. They want Sid Brooks's credit taken off the screen."

"What are you talking about, Eddie? We can't do that to Sid."

"We're not doing it to him, Rick. Other people are."

"I won't do it. Tell him they take the film with the credits intact, or they can't have it. We'll open next year, the way we planned."

"I've already shaken hands on the deal, Rick; I can't go back on my word."

"What about our word to Sid? He has a contract that specifies a single-card credit; he could sue us.
I
would, if I were in his place."

"I think I have a solution to that problem."

"What solution?"

"Get Sid in here and tell him what's happened; get him to agree to have his credit dropped. We'll insert a pseudonym."

"And why would he agree to do that? It's the best thing he's ever written; he's sure to get nominated."

"Even if he does, he'll never get the Oscar, not the way things are now. He'll see how great this will be for Vance and Susie and you; he won't want to stand in the way of that."

"I don't want to do that, Eddie. I can't do that to Sid."

"Rick, even if we open it next year, we can't have Sid's credit on the screen."

"Why not? I thought you disagreed with the studio heads on the blacklist."

"I did, and I do, and I'll do whatever I can to subvert it, but other forces are at work here."

"What forces?"

"The American Legion, for one, and other organizations are being formed as we speak. They're going to picket the theaters where any film is shown that has Communist actors, writers or directors and that stars any of the Hollywood Ten. We've got more money tied up in this picture than anything we've ever made, and we can't just flush it down the toilet."

"I hate this," Rick said, "and I won't do this to Sid."

"There's something else," Eddie said.

"What?"

"You can offer Sid another fifty thousand, if he'll agree."

"And you think he'd accept that? He'd spit in my eye."

"No, he won't."

Rick looked at Eddie. "What do you know that you're not telling me?"

"Alice Brooks walked out on Sid right after he testified. She's filed for divorce, and she's tied up everything: real estate, bank accounts, the works. Sid has moved into a little apartment building that he and Alice bought in Santa Monica, and for the moment, at least, he's flat broke. Fifty grand would save his life right now."

"He's not going to take his own life; he told me that himself."

"Was that before or after he testified and was cited for contempt? Before or after Alice left him? Before or after the blacklist? Sid is in a bad place right now, worse than the place Alan was in. He might do anything. He needs our help, and having his credit on this picture won't help him. Fifty thousand dollars will."

Rick slumped. "All right, I'll see him, but I won't take his credit off the film without his agreement. I'll resign, first."

Eddie went and put a hand on Rick's shoulder. "I've been over this a hundred times, Rick, and this is the best thing to do for all of us, including Sid. Please believe that."

"I hope you're right, Eddie."

"I'll dictate a one-page addendum to his contract and have a check cut," Eddie said. "See you tomorrow, kiddo."

Rick took his drink back to his office and sat in the darkening room, wondering how he could ever say to Sid what he had to say.

27

When Vance Calder arrived at Centurion after the trip from Wyoming, a letter was awaiting him at the front gate.

Vance,
We're delighted with your work on
BITTER CREEK,
and it seems appropriate that you have better accommodation on the lot. Accordingly, we've moved your things to the bungalow at 1 A Street; I think you'll be more comfortable there. Also, your agent already has a bonus check from us for ten thousand dollars, and your price for the next two pictures will be fifty thousand dollars each. Your contract has been amended accordingly
.
We'll be working very quickly on the interiors, so plan on working straight through the weekend. I'll tell you why when I see you and the rest of the cast at nine o'clock tomorrow morning at the ranch house set on Stage One. Again, you have the thanks of everyone here for a very fine job.
Warm regards,
Rick

Vance, a grin on his face, drove to A Street and made a right. There on the corner was number 1, the bungalow that had been Clete Barrow's dressing room. He guessed that this meant he was now the number one star on the lot. Then he remembered Susie.

He drove quickly to his old half-bungalow and found her waiting on the front porch. "Get in your car and follow me," he called out, then he led her back to his new digs, and they got out of their respective cars.

"This is the old Clete Barrow bungalow," she said. "What are we doing here?"

"The landlord has upgraded me," Vance replied, holding up the key. "Come on, let's get your stuff."

"Wait a minute. You mean
your
stuff, don't you?"

He put his arms around her. "Listen, why should you go on sharing that tiny apartment in Hollywood, when I have all this room? Anyway, I've grown accustomed to sleeping with you in my arms. You don't want to make an insomniac of me, do you?"

"Let's take a look inside," she said.

Vance opened the door and switched on some lights. The place had been newly painted, and the furniture looked new, too. There was a big living room, with a kitchenette and bar in a corner, a bedroom, lots of closet space and a makeup room with a barber's chair and a lighted mirror.

"Wow," Susie said.

"How about it, Hon?"

She smiled and kissed him. "You're on."

He went to their respective cars and hauled in their things, then he picked up the phone and called the studio commissary and ordered dinner for two. "We'll be dining in an hour," Vance said to Susie. He opened the fully stocked bar. "In the meantime, let me fix you a drink."

"I'll have a Scotch and water," she said.

He handed her the drink and made himself one, on the rocks. "To a mutual new era of stardom," he said.

They drank.

"When did they tell you about this?" she said.

"There was a letter waiting for me at the front gate."

"Wait a minute," she said, going to her purse, "there was one for me, too." She opened the letter and giggled. "They've given me a bungalow, too--your old one--and I got a bonus!"

"I don't want you to feel that you have to occupy it," Vance said.

"Well, I'll occupy it some of the time. After all, we don't want to become an item in the columns."

"I think we're going to have to get used to that sort of thing," Vance said.

She giggled. "Let's hope so."

Dinner arrived in a van, and a waiter set Vance's dining table, opened their wine, poured some and left them alone. Vance held her, chair, then sat down.

"You know," Vance said, "we've been so busy working and..."

"Fucking," she said, finishing his sentence.

"Well, yes, fucking, and it's been wonderful. I want it to go on and on. But my point was we don't know much about each other."

"You want my studio bio?" she asked.

"I'd like the unexpurgated version."

"All right. I was born in a little town in Georgia called Delano that neither you nor anybody else has ever heard of. Its claim to fame is that it's five miles from Warm Springs, where Mr. Roosevelt had his Little White House and died."

"Did you know him?"

"Of course not. Did you know Winston Churchill?"

"I met him once, when he came to a performance of a play I was in in the West End and visited backstage."

"Well, I saw Mr. Roosevelt drink a chocolate milk shake, once, while sitting in his car outside the City Drug Company. He used to drive himself around the county and stop for refreshments."

"So we're both politically well connected. What were you like as a little girl?"

"I was bright, pretty, got good grades and studied dancing from the time I was three, because my mother had a dance studio. I got all the best parts in the school plays, and then I went to college at the University of Georgia and got all the best parts there, too.

"After college I went to New York and got into the Neighborhood Playhouse, which got me a couple of supporting roles on Broadway; then a talent scout spotted me, offered me a screen test and I came out here nine months ago. I had a small part in a picture at RKO; then I got
Bitter Creek
. The rest will be history."

"It certainly will."

"Now you."

"I was born in London, but since my father was an Anglican vicar, we moved around the southeast of England several times, mostly in Kent. My mother would take me to the theater in London sometimes, and I was enthralled. When I was fourteen, I made up a fake resume and ran away from my boarding school, joining a repertory company that was passing through town doing
She Stoops to Conquer
.

"I painted scenery, ran errands, ran the lights, pulled the curtain then finally started getting juvenile roles. I looked older than I was, so I was playing early twenties. I was also taken into the bed of the leading lady, who was instructional."

"So that's how you got so good in the sack!" she said, delighted. "I thought maybe you had worked as a gigolo!"

"I never gave up my amateur status," Vance said. "Anyway, I went to London to audition for the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts, failed to get in, but instead someone who saw my audition offered me a supporting role in a new play. We had a good run in London, then the Schuberts brought it to New York, where we had only a middling run. The rest of the cast went back to London, and I stayed on in New York, where I--not to put too fine a point on it--starved.

"Finally, in the dead of last winter, I hitchhiked to L.A., got a job with a construction crew and found a room in a boarding house in Santa Monica. One of the jobs I worked on, fortunately, was the beach house that Rick and Glenna are building in Malibu. Glenna came over to talk to me, introduced me to Rick and the next day I had a screen test that got me
Bitter Creek
. I believe you are acquainted with the rest of my resume to date."

"Two such all-American stories," Susie said.

"One all-American, one all-English," he corrected.

She poured herself some wine. "There's something else you'd better know about me; you may already have heard it, but I'd prefer you had the real story from me."

"All right."

"When I was in New York, after college, I roomed with a beautiful girl who, well, preferred other beautiful girls to men. I also saw men, on the sly, but she and I were a couple, sort of, and I liked the sex. Then, just before I came out here, she surprised me by telling me that she was getting married. To a man, by the way."

"Were you upset?"

"Not really. I knew I was, basically, heterosexual, though I doubt that she was. It came at a good time, since I was coming out here, anyway."

"I'm glad you told me, but..."

"There's more," Susie said. "When I got the part at RKO, I was staying at the Studio Club--a kind of dormitory for aspiring actresses--and a script girl on the picture offered to share her apartment with me. I moved in, and we had pretty much the same sort of relationship that I had had in New York, except I was not as comfortable with it. I resolved to move out when I got back from our location shoot, and I had planned to do so tomorrow."

"Anything else?" Vance asked.

"Nope, that's it. I wanted you to know." She laughed. "I don't ever want anyone else to know, though, so promise me you'll keep it to yourself."

"Of course I will."

"Any questions?"

"Will you move in with me? Just you, no girls. Unless we share them, of course."

She laughed. "You betcha I will, starting right now. I do want to keep the pretense of having my own place, though, which will be easy, now that Rick has given me the little half cottage."

"That's fine with me. I don't want to live on the lot forever. I'd like to buy a house as soon as I can afford one."

"Let's cross that bridge when we burn it behind us," she said. "Now can we go into the bedroom and fuck each other's brains out?"

"Oh, yes."

And they did.

28

Rick called Hyman Greenbaum when he couldn't reach Sid Brooks by phone, then Sid called him back, and they made a dinner date at a little place on Santa Monica Boulevard.

Rick went into Eddie Harris's office. "I have a dinner date with Sid Brooks," he said.