Sidney Sheldon - A Stranger in the Mirror

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Hunt said. “It’s been a long time, Sam.”

“Much too long. That’s the trouble with this business, Bill. You never have time for the people you like.”

“Too true.”

Sam made his voice sound offhand. “By the way, did you happen to see that silly article in Peek? ”

“You know I did,” Hunt said quietly. “That’s why we’re canceling the show, Sam.” The words had a finality to them.

“Bill,” Sam said, “what would you say if I told you that Jack Nolan was framed?”

There was a laugh from the other end of the line. “I’d say you should think about becoming a writer.”

“I’m serious,” Sam said, earnestly. “I know Jack Nolan. He’s as straight as we are. That photograph was taken at a costume party. It was his girlfriend’s birthday, and he put the dress on as a gag.” Sam could feel his palms sweating.

“I can’t—”

“I’ll tell you how much confidence I have in Jack,” Sam said into the phone. “I’ve just set him for the lead in Laredo , our big Western feature for next year.”

There was a pause. “Are you serious, Sam?”

“You’re damn right I am. It’s a three-million-dollar picture. If Jack Nolan turned out to be a fag, he’d be laughed off the screen. The exhibitors wouldn’t touch it. Would I take that kind of gamble if I didn’t know what I was talking about?”

“Well…” There was hesitation in Bill Hunt’s voice.

“Come on, Bill, you’re not going to let a lousy gossip sheet like Peek destroy a good man’s career. You like the show, don’t you?”

“Very much. It’s a damned good show. But the sponsors—”

“It’s your network. You’ve got more sponsors than you have air time. We’ve given you a hit show. Let’s not fool around with a success.”

“Well…”

“Has Mell Foss talked to you yet about the studio’s plans for ‘The Raiders’ for next season?”

“No…”

“I guess he was planning to surprise you,” Sam said. “Wait until you hear what he has in mind! Guest stars, big-name Western writers, shooting on location—the works! If ‘The Raiders’ doesn’t skyrocket to number one, I’m in the wrong business.”

There was a brief hesitation. Then Bill Hunt said, “Have Mel phone me. Maybe we all got a little panicked here.”

“He’ll call you,” Sam promised.

“And, Sam—you understand my position. I wasn’t trying to hurt anybody.”

“Of course you weren’t,” Sam said, generously. “I know you too well to think that, Bill. That’s why I felt I owed it to you to let you hear the truth.”

“I appreciate that.”

“What about lunch next week?”

“Love it. I’ll call you Monday.”

They exchanged good-byes and hung up. Sam sat there, drained. Jack Nolan was as queer as an Indian dime. Someone should have taken him away in a net long ago. And Sam’s whole future depended on maniacs like that. Running a studio was like walking a high wire over Niagara Falls in a blizzard. Anyone’s crazy to do this job , Sam thought. He picked up his private phone and dialed. A few moments later, he was talking to Mel Foss.

“‘The Raiders’ stays on the air,” Sam said.

“What?” There was stunned disbelief in Foss’s voice.

“That’s right. I want you to have a fast talk with Jack Nolan. Tell him if he ever steps out of line again, I’ll personally run him out of this town and back to Fire Island! I mean it. If he gets the urge to suck something, tell him to try a banana!”

Sam slammed the phone down. He leaned back in his chair, thinking. He had forgotten to tell Foss about the format changes he had ad-libbed to Bill Hunt. He would have to find a writer who could come up with a Western script called Laredo .

The door burst open and Lucille stood there, her face white. “Can you get right down to Stage Ten? Someone set it on fire.”

8

Toby Temple had tried to reach Sam Winters half a dozen times, but he was never able to get past his bitch of a secretary, and he finally gave up. Toby made the rounds of the nightclubs and studios without success. During the next year, he took jobs to support himself. He sold real estate and insurance and haberdashery, and in between he played in bars and obscure nightclubs. But he was not able to get past the studio gates.

“You’re going about it the wrong way,” a friend of his told him. “Make them come to you .”

“How do I do that?” Toby asked, cynically.

“Get into Actors West.”

“An acting school?”

“It’s more than that. They put on plays, and every studio in town covers them.”

Actors West had the smell of professionalism. Toby could sense it the moment he walked in the door. On the wall were photographs of graduates of the school. Toby recognized many of them as successful actors.

The blond receptionist behind the desk said, “May I help you?”

“Yes. I’m Toby Temple. I’d like to enroll.”

“Have you had acting experience?” she asked.

“Well, no,” Toby said. “But, I—”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Tanner won’t interview anyone without professional experience.”

Toby stared at her a moment. “Are you kidding me?”

“No. That’s our rule. She never—”

“I’m not talking about that,” Toby said. “I mean—you really don’t know who I am?”

The blonde looked at him and said, “No.”

Toby let his breath out softly. “Jesus,” he said. “Leland Hayward was right. If you work in England, Hollywood doesn’t even know you’re alive.” He smiled and said apologetically, “I was joking. I figured you’d know me.”

The receptionist was confused now, not knowing what to believe. “You have worked professionally?”

Toby laughed. “I’ll say I have.”

The blonde picked up a form. “What parts have you played, and where?”

“Nothing here,” Toby said quickly. “I’ve been in England for the last two years, working in rep.”

The blonde nodded. “I see. Well, let me talk to Mrs. Tanner.”

The blonde disappeared into the inner office, returning a few minutes later. “Mrs. Tanner will see you. Good luck.”

Toby winked at the receptionist, took a deep breath and walked into Mrs. Tanner’s office.

Alice Tanner was a dark-haired woman, with an attractive, aristocratic face. She appeared to be in her middle thirties, about ten years older than Toby. She was seated behind her desk, but what Toby could see of her figure was sensational. This place is going to be just fine , Toby decided.

Toby smiled winningly and said, “I’m Toby Temple.”

Alice Tanner rose from behind the desk and walked toward him. Her left leg was encased in a heavy metal brace and she limped with the practiced, rolling walk of someone who has lived with it for a long time.

Polio , Toby decided. He did not know whether to comment on it.

“So you want to enroll in our classes.”

“Very much,” Toby said.

“May I ask why?”

He made his voice sincere. “Because everywhere I go, Mrs. Tanner, people talk about your school and the wonderful plays you put on here. I’ll bet you have no idea of the reputation this place has.”

She studied him a moment. “I do have an idea. That’s why I have to be careful to keep out phonies.”

Toby felt his face begin to redden, but he smiled boyishly and said, “I’ll bet. A lot of them, must try to crash in here.”

“Quite a few,” Mrs. Tanner agreed. She glanced at the card she held in her hand. “Toby Temple.”

“You probably haven’t heard the name,” he explained, “because for the last couple of years, I’ve been—”