The Love Machine (25 page)

Robin frowned. “I think you’re a goddam pussyfooted sneak!” Then he slammed down a bill on the bar and walked out.

Amanda was still in the hospital when Jerry arrived on the Coast. She was propped up in bed, looking beautiful, in full makeup. But he was startled when he saw the large bottle of blood and the needle attached to her arm. She noticed his surprise and smiled. “Don’t let it bother you. I’m just taking my bag of tomato juice.”

“Why the blood transfusion?” He asked as he sat on the edge of a chair.

“So I can get back to your show faster.”

Suddenly the door opened and Ike Ryan burst in. “Hi, toots, I got you all the trades and a new book.” He looked at Jerry curiously when Amanda introduced them. Then he held out his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Amanda says you’ve been a hell of a good friend.”

“We go back together,” Jerry said weakly. The man’s energy overwhelmed him. In an effort to reinforce his authority he said, “This is all very nice, and I know Amanda is enjoying the attention, but she
does
have an obligation to me—and above all, to the show.” He turned to Amanda. “When do you plan to leave?”

“The doctor thinks at the end of the week …”

“She’ll go when she’s completely rested,” Ike snapped.

Jerry stood up. “Then perhaps we ought to find a permanent replacement for the rest of the season.” (God, he hated himself for acting this way!)

“No,” Amanda begged. “Oh, Jerry, no, please—I’ll be back next week. Maybe even this week.” She looked pleadingly at Ike.

He shrugged. “Whatever you want, toots. Listen, I’ve got some
calls to make. I’ll use the booth down the hall. Goodbye, friend.” He looked at Jerry coldly.

The moment they were alone, Jerry’s manner changed. His voice was sincere and earnest. “Look, Amanda, maybe you
should
quit the show. This guy seems crazy about you.”

“He hasn’t asked me to marry him …”

He groaned. “We’re back to that game again?”

Her face went taut. “Look, Jerry, right now Ike wants me because he knows Chris wants me. But if I’m without a job, without Chris, Ike might suddenly get disenchanted with me.”

“Where did you get all that faith and trust?”

“I was born with it,” she said coldly. Then her eyes went soft. “Jerry, I’ll be back. I feel wonderful already. I guess I needed this rest. I’ve been going at such a pace for six years. Do you realize I’ve never had a vacation?”

He patted her on the head. “Relax, honey, the job is yours for life. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

He left the room and walked down the hall. Ike Ryan was waiting for him. “In here, buddy,” he said, motioning to the small waiting room.

“I have to get to my office,” Jerry said.

“Not until we have a little talk. You’re some fine friend. She hasn’t got enough trouble—you have to threaten her, yet.”

“Anemia isn’t that serious,” Jerry said.

“She only
thinks
she has anemia.” Ike stared at him. “I’m gonna trust you. No one knows this. Just Doc Aronson and me. And nobody is
gonna
know it—especially Amanda. She’s got leukemia!”

Jerry sank on the couch. His hands were shaking as he reached for a cigarette. Then he looked up, his eyes straining for hope. “I’ve heard of people who live a long time with leukemia.”

“Not the kind she has.”

“How long has she got?”

“It might be minutes. It might be six months.”

Jerry turned away but his composure broke. He hated himself, but he sobbed openly. Ike sat beside him and clasped his shoulder. “Look, they’re trying a new drug. I’ve had it flown here. It costs a thousand a shot. She started on it two days ago and her blood
count has gone up. It’s too early to hope, but if things go right …”

“You mean she has a chance?”

“She has a chance to
walk
out instead of going out in a box. She has a chance for a remission, maybe six months—and who knows, by then they might find the cure, or another miracle drug.”

“What can I do?” Jerry asked.

“Just keep your mouth shut. Make Christie Lane stop heckling her with this show-must-go-on jazz! And you tell her the job is waiting.”

“I already have.”

Ike shook his head. “The damnedest thing is, if the drug works the doc says it will be dramatic. She’ll be fine in like a week. For how long, no one knows. Why in hell does she want to work? She’s got so little time.”

“Because she thinks you might ask her to marry you—but only if she’s working and is independent.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Ike Ryan got up and walked to the window.

Jerry started for the door. “But as you say, she won’t last more than six months. You don’t have to worry about that. And it’s better if she
does
work. She’ll believe the anemia story then.”

Ike turned and held out his hand. They shook solemnly. “If anyone knows about this, I’ll break your head in,” he said.

Jerry promised but he knew he was going to break his word. He was going to tell Robin. Amanda had so little time—and Robin was the only man who mattered to her. He could tell she liked Ike,
liked
him, but she never looked at him the way she had looked at Robin. But he would sit on it for a few days and see how she reacted to the new drug.

Ike Ryan watched him leave, then he walked slowly down the hall to Amanda’s room. He stood very straight and forced a smile on his face, then he opened the door and sailed in. A nurse was removing the needle from Amanda’s arm.

“Tonight I’ll bring champagne and some new books, but now I got to get to work.” He started for the door, then turned. “By the way, toots, there’s something I meant to ask you and it always slipped my mind. Will you marry me? You don’t have to give
me your answer for at least ten minutes. I’ll call you when I get to the studio.”

Amanda responded to the new drug. Within a week her blood count was normal—she was in a state of remission. Ike was jubilant, but Dr. Aronson warned him—a remission was not a cure.

“But for the time, she can live a normal life, right?” Ike asked.

“Let her do anything she wants. God knows how long she’ll feel this well,” the doctor replied. “But I want her to come to the office every week for a blood test. We’ve got to watch her red-corpuscle count.”

“Every week? She’s going to get suspicious.”

“No, she’s in excellent spirits and she has no idea anything is seriously wrong.”

Ike came to bring her home from the hospital. “I just rented a palace on Canyon Drive. Wait till you see the joint—I moved in yesterday. It’s got everything—even a cook and butler. When do you want to get married, toots?”

“When I finish the show.”

“You kidding? That’s six weeks away.”

“It would be rough working with Christie if he knew.”

“Who says you have to work with him? Quit the damn show.”

“That wouldn’t be fair to Jerry—he gave me the show when I wanted it. The girls they tried while I was gone weren’t right. They’re all so thrilled that I’m making it back for tomorrow’s show.”

“I still think you should wait a week or so.”

“Ike, I’ve had almost three weeks’ rest. I feel marvelous.” The happiness suddenly faded from her eyes. “But Dr. Aronson said I have to have blood tests every week. Why?”

Ike shrugged. “Probably to make sure you don’t lose all this health.”

“Well, I’m going to eat liver every day. And I’ve been reading about blood—all the things that are good for you.”

“Now don’t start practicing medicine,” he said.

She tucked her arm in his and the chauffeur took her bag.

“Ike, I’m so relieved. I’ll admit it now: I was scared when I came in. I’ve never been sick before, and when I was lying there that first day, I thought, ‘Wouldn’t it be awful to have to check out now … to die without ever having a child.’ I’m so grateful that I’m well. And I know what it is to be unhappy, to be hurt. That’s why I want to finish out the show.”

Ike dropped her at her hotel. The moment he reached his office he called Jerry. “You’ve got to make her quit the show—she thinks she owes it to you to finish the season. She’s got so little time, I don’t want her to throw away an hour—let alone six weeks. Yet if
I
force it, she may get suspicious. Think of something!”

Jerry stared at the smog-laden sky, at the pale sun trying to burn its way through. It wasn’t like the summer sun in Greenwich—or the sparkling orange sun they had in the fall. Amanda would never see that sun again or know the clear cold of the winter. Tears came to his eyes.

He reached for the phone. Robin’s secretary announced that Mr. Stone was in conference. “Tell her to get Mr. Stone
out
of conference,” Jerry shouted to the long-distance operator. “This is an emergency!” After a few minutes Robin came on.

“Yes, Jerry.”

“Are you sitting down, Robin?”

“Come to the point. I have ten people waiting in the conference room.”

“Amanda has leukemia.”

There was a terrible silence. Then Robin said, “Does she know?”

“Only three people know—the doctor, Ike Ryan and me. You make the fourth. She’s been given some drug and it’s worked wonders. She’s even doing the show tomorrow. But they give her six months top. I thought you’d like to know.”

“Thanks, Jerry.” He hung up.

Amanda enjoyed her first day back at the hotel. The suite was filled with flowers. Dozens of roses from Ike, gladiolas from the hotel, a plant from the cast, and some cheap spring flowers from Christie. His note said, “Am taking publicity pictures—call you at
six. Love, Christie.” At four o’clock a waiter arrived with a baked potato loaded with Iranian caviar and sour cream. The note read, “To hold you till I get there for dinner. Love, Ike.”

She reveled in the luxury and ate the potato, but she knew she would have to start watching her weight. She had gained five pounds in the hospital. The phone rang at six and she picked it up lethargically. It had to be Christie.

“Hello, star—how are you?” The voice crackled across the line.

For a moment she couldn’t speak. It was Robin, just like that, with no explanation for not ever calling… .

“I’ve just come home from the hospital.” She finally found her voice.

“What was the matter?”

“Anemia. I’m fine now. Didn’t Jerry tell you?”

“I’ve been away, I haven’t talked to Jerry. Listen, baby, I have some business in L.A. and I’m flying out Sunday. I should get there around five your time. Think you can spare an evening for an old friend?”

“I’d be delighted, Robin.”

“Good. Dinner on Sunday—that’s a date.”

She hung up and lay back against the pillow. No need to get excited. He probably only had a few days and figured there was good old Amanda, just waiting. So he had called. Why not? She was a sure thing—it was easier than calling around and finding someone.

After all, Hollywood wasn’t his territory. He didn’t know too many people and he didn’t want to waste an evening. Well, she’d see him—you
bet
she’d see him—and she’d show him how it felt when someone else called the shots! But how? Stand him up? Keep him waiting at Chasen’s all alone?

She thought about it for an hour. Suddenly she knew what she was going to do—it would be wonderful! She couldn’t wait until Sunday.

FIFTEEN

R
OBIN CHECKED INTO THE BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL
at five o’clock. The desk clerk handed him an envelope. Inside was a hastily scrawled note from Amanda:

Dear Robin, It’s my birthday and Ike Ryan is having a few people drop by. I have to get there early because I’m guest of honor. I can’t wait to see you
.

When he got settled in his suite he reread Amanda’s note. There was a phone number and an address on North Canyon Drive. His first inclination was to call and leave word that he’d wait for her at the hotel. He hated cocktail parties. Then he abruptly changed his mind. From now on it was going to be whatever Amanda wanted. He reached in his pocket to check the small gold circlet—if they could break away from this party early enough, they’d fly to Tijuana and get married. He called the doorman and ordered a cab.

North Canyon Drive was a maze of parked cars. He paid the driver and walked up the driveway. Hollywood homes were deceiving in appearance: the front was always modest. But when you entered, there was an explosion of unbelievable splendor in the back. Ike’s home was no exception. The marble entrance hall was crowded, the enormous living room had the usual enormous bar and people were clustered around it three deep. Glass doors opened onto a patio with an Olympic-size swimming pool—there
was even a tennis court. He felt slightly disoriented, unprepared for the mob scene he had stumbled upon. Then he grinned: he should have known better. This was Ike’s idea of a little gathering. He saw familiar faces, faces he had seen on the wide screen. There was enough earning power in this room to support a small country—actors, producers, heads of studios and directors, even the top screenwriters, and the usual assortment of beautiful girls.