JC2 The Raiders (33 page)

"Is this a value?" asked Rabbi Graustein. "Being
widely heard of?"

"I wish she were
my
daughter,"
said Sam.

Glenda smiled shyly. "You're not old enough, Sam," she
said.

Rabbi Mordecai Graustein glared at his daughter.
By her little smile, her little joke, she had trivialized the
conversation, trivialized
him
. "So," he said curtly.
He stood.

"Uriel Acosta," said Glenda to her father, "was made
to lie down across the doorway of the Amsterdam synagogue, and all
the men of the congregation stepped over him as they walked out. If
you think you can do that to me, you are the klutz Sam says you are."

BAT TOOK TIME OFF FROM THE PROBLEMS OF producing and selling the
first Glenda Grayson show to fly to Northampton, Massachusetts, for
Jo-Ann's graduation.

He met Monica Cord for the first time. She came to Northampton in the
company of a syndicated political cartoonist named Bill Toller, whose
work appeared in more than a hundred newspapers. Like Norman Rockwell
he sometimes drew himself and so had fashioned his own image: that of
a broad-shouldered, heavy-set man in a cardigan sweater, sitting over
his drafting table, smoking a pipe, and peering at blank paper with
an expression of comic frustration. In person he was a better-looking
man than his self-caricature. He did smoke a pipe and had one in his
pocket as he sat beside Monica at the graduation ceremony.

Anticipating the appearance of Bill Toller at the graduation —
and not to be compelled to face his ex-wife in the company of a man
while he was alone — Jonas brought Angie. She drew stares and
comments as always.

Bat called Toni Maxim in Washington and asked her to come to
Northampton. His father liked Toni. So did Jo-Ann, he thought. If he
had shown up in Northampton with Glenda Grayson, he would have made
tension and a scandal. Anyway, he wanted to keep his relationship
with Toni, and inviting her to be with him on an important family
occasion made up for half a dozen occasions when he might have seen
her and didn't. Toni was the right choice for this weekend.

Jonas took note. "Well. Back to this one. Which one counts?"

"Monogamy is not a Cord family tradition," Bat said curtly.

Even so, the weekend and the Monday commencement were one prolonged
confrontation.

Monica seemed interested in only one thing about this son Jonas had
suddenly discovered: Was he really producing a television show
starring Glenda Grayson of all people? As a magazine editor, she was
interested in that. She was also interested in seeing Jonas get
laughed at — an interest she was unable to conceal.

Bill Toller was conspicuously out of place and embarrassed. He spent
his time trying to find someone who would talk with him and settled
finally on Toni. She could talk politics with him and so became a
refuge for him.

Monica was annoyed that Jonas had brought Angie. Jonas was glad she
was annoyed. Angie was amused.

Jonas told Bat to come to his suite for breakfast at 6:30 on
commencement morning. Alone.

"We'll have two breakfasts," said Jonas when Bat sat down
at the wheeled table loaded with eggs, bacon, pancakes, fruit, and
coffee — also with a bottle of bourbon from which Jonas was
sipping sparingly. "The whole crowd is getting together at
eight."

Bat nodded. He took note that Angie had not come out of the bedroom.

"That girl you've brought with you is first rate," said
Jonas. "Toni is first class, in every way I can see and I
imagine in some others that only you know about."

"She's very special," said Bat solemnly.

"So, when you gonna marry her?"

"That's none of your business, really; but what would you say if
I told you she's not sure she wants to marry a son of Jonas Cord?"

"She doesn't like me?"

"Oh, she likes you fine," said Bat. "But she's not
sure she wants a husband whose father dominates his life."

"
I dominate your life?
I thought you'd
declared independence of me, pretty goddamned emphatically. Look. You
want out? You want to go back to practicing law? Why not? You're
supposed to be good at it."

Bat nodded. "I've thought about it."

"Don't forget something," said Jonas. "You picked up
the Jonas Cord way of living pretty damned fast, and you seem to
thrive on it. Putting aside some of your expense accounts, do you
figure a young lawyer would be humping a big nightclub star ... on
the q.t., besides the girl he's supposed —"

"I've made no commitment to Toni. She's made none to me."

"Well, that's too friggin' bad. Anyway — Never mind. This
television show. Nobody wants it. No sponsor. Right?"

"We don't know yet."

"Well, when you gonna know?"

"I'm working on it."

"So far, you haven't got a sponsor. Could that be because you
don't know fuck about how to build a successful television show? I've
dumped more than a million — "

"You dumped seventeen million into the Pacific Ocean off San
Diego in 1945," said Bat. "Could that be because you didn't
know fuck about how to build an airplane?"

Jonas's face stiffened and reddened for a moment. Then he relaxed and
smiled. "You son of a — Look, I want you to make a success
of whatever you try. You think I don't?"

Bat hesitated, then said, "You think it's easy being a son of
Jonas Cord?"

"No. Don't forget, I was ... the son of the old man. Maybe I'm
gaining a new appreciation of my father. It's not easy to be the
father of a Jonas Cord either."

"Okay," said Bat. "Nothing good is achieved easy."

Jonas tossed back a gulp of bourbon. "Right. But take a word
from me. You say Glenda is no hooker. Well, she's not far from it.
Take it easy, mister. Be careful about her."

"Then send her to you, huh?"

Over breakfast and for the rest of the commencement weekend, Bat gave
his attention to his little sister. The occasion should have been
hers, but she seemed lost in the tangle of antagonisms that dominated
the group. He watched her drinking. On what should have been a happy
day for her, she wasn't happy, and she was anesthetizing herself with
Scotch.

"Where are you going after commencement?" he asked her.

"I am supposed to go to Monica's apartment in New York,"
she said.

"Use our apartment in the Waldorf Towers," said Bat. "Our
father is there only a night or so every two weeks, and I'm there not
much more."

"I hear you rented a handsome beach house in California,"
she said. "Could I move in with you there for a while? I promise
to behave."

Bat glanced toward Toni. "How good are you at
keeping a secret?" he asked quietly. "You'll
have
to
behave. I'm not living there alone."

Glenda loved the beach house, though she did not love the beach. Her
white skin did not tan. It burned. Exposed to the sun, it turned
bright red and peeled. Anyway, she didn't want to tan. Her white skin
was a part of her persona. She even stayed off the deck when it was
hot with sunlight. She wore a bikini around the house, only because
she knew Bat liked it.

On a Sunday evening they sat on the deck, in the faint purple-orange
light of a sun that had already disappeared below the Pacific
horizon. They had Scotches and some cheese with crackers.

"I've got to fly back to Las Vegas tomorrow," said Bat.

"Again?"

"It
is
my business, you know. The
Seven Voyages."

"Your business is being the producer of our show," said
Glenda. "Sam's having trouble selling it. We may have to do some
reshooting."

"I'm president of Cord Hotels," said Bat. "We bought
land south of Flamingo Road. My father is flying in tomorrow. We're
meeting with the architect."

"A second Cord hotel," she mused. "What will you call
it?"

"Well, since our airline is Inter-Continental, we may call the
hotel Intercontinental — with a capital C in the middle."

"Plus you own the place in Cuba."

"Not really. We lease the casino and show room in the Floresta.
We have nothing to do with the hotel operation."

"Bat — " She stared out to sea, abruptly shook her
head, and didn't finish what she had started to say.

"What's the matter, baby?"

She turned her face toward him. "Bat. Be careful. There are some
rough types in Las Vegas."

"That's something else I've got to look into. Our man Chandler
seems to have too many friends among those rough types."

"Why don't you get rid of him?" she asked.

"We keep him busy, which gives him less opportunity to make
mischief. If we turned him loose, he could become a full-time
troublemaker."

They heard the door open, then heard the voice of Jo-Ann: too
enthusiastic and slurring her words. "Where are you guys? Out on
the deck?" Glenda pulled on a terry-cloth beach coat to cover
her swimsuit. Bat turned around and knocked on the glass door, to
indicate that was in fact where they were: out on the deck.

Jo-Ann was not alone. Ben Parrish was with her. Bat rued the day he
had introduced her to Ben. He could not have imagined she would
develop a hasty and intemperate infatuation for the man. He'd done it
because Ben was a mature man and broadly knowledgeable about the
things in Los Angeles and Hollywood that would most interest Jo-Ann.
He had expected Ben to introduce her to some people in the film
community and give her a good time.

Glenda had rued the introduction from the moment
she heard of it. "My god, Bat! You don't
know
the man.
He's a Hollywood hustler."

"I thought he was an agent. That's how I met
him. He tried to interest me in a game show. In fact, I
am
interested in it."

"You don't know the other element of his reputation,"
Glenda had said. "He's got the biggest schlong in California.
Girls will do anything even to get a look at it."

"You've seen it?"

Glenda had grinned. "No, lover, I haven't. But I've heard about
it plenty."

There could be no discounting the man's charm. Ben was a squarish
man: broad of shoulders, with a big solid head set on a short neck.
His eyes were pale blue. He was deeply tanned. Though he was only a
year or so older than Bat, his hair had begun to turn gray, and he
had apparently hastened and completed the process by having chemicals
applied to it. It was almost white, smooth and handsome. His square
open face did not suggest the hustler Glenda said he was. To the
contrary, it suggested a man who could not tell a lie.

Ben and Jo-Ann had spent the afternoon at a pool party. Jo-Ann wore a
white terry beach coat like Glenda's. It was open, showing a tiny
black bikini. She was drunk. Ben wore damp maroon trunks and a white
polo shirt.

As soon as they were on the deck, Ben lit cigarettes for himself and
Jo-Ann. They smoked only on the deck. It was a concession to Bat's
pronounced dislike of cigarette smoke.

Everyone understood that Ben would stay the night. He had been doing
that, several nights a week.

"We were gonna order in some dinner," said Bat. "You
going to join us?"

"On a condition," said Ben. "On me. I buy. What would
you guys like? Mexican? Chinese?"

"Chinee," said Jo-Ann. "With an
order of fwied pickled ...
cockwoaches
."

"Fried pickled cockroaches it is," said Ben. "How
about a nice bottle of champagne to go with that?"

"That'll make me burp," said Jo-Ann. "How 'bout just
reg'lar white wine?"

Ben nodded. "I'll go and make the calls."

"I'll go with you," said Jo-Ann.

"You sit down," said Bat. "I want to talk to you."

Ben's face darkened for an instant as he heard Bat give his sister a
direct order, but he turned and went in the house without a word.
Glenda got up and went in after him.

"Little sister, you're drunk," Bat said. "I'm not your
father, but —"

"Good. That's settled," said Jo-Ann. "I don't have a
father. Don't try to play like you are my father."

She reached for the bottle of Scotch, but he jerked it away from her.
"Our father is not that bad," he said. "Maybe the
problem is you don't have any basis for comparison." She turned
her face away from him and directed her attention to the sunset
colors slowly fading on the ocean. He went on. "When I
introduced you to Ben, I didn't expect you to start sleeping with
him."

"You should appreciate him," she said dully. "You
jerked the bottle away. Last night he slapped me and poured my drink
in the toilet."

"He slapped you? Here? In this house? Last night?"

She nodded and glanced at him. "I had it coming."

"I doubt it," said Bat grimly.

"Don't interfere, big brother. He did it because he cares."

"Or so he says."

She shook her head. "He didn't say it. But why else? What
difference to him if I get schnocked? Unless —"

"Do you think nobody else cares about you?"

"Nevada did," she said quietly. "I guess maybe you do,
in your way. Jonas? Monica?" She shook her head.

"You're too ready to feel sorry for yourself," said Bat.
"You're twenty-one years old. Our father has settled a generous
allowance on you —"

"Generous? Is it?"

"It's as much as I'm paid as a salary," said Bat. "It's
exactly the same."

"Well, tell me something, big brother. Would
you accept an allowance from Jonas? He made you vice president of
Cord Hotels, then president. You're supposed to
earn
your
money. Would you accept it otherwise?"

Bat stared hard at her for a moment, before he understood and could
respond. "All right. No, I wouldn't."

"Well, I have to. He won't make
me
a
president of anything. So I have to take his charity."

"He's a generous man, and he loves you."