Stuart Woods - Swimming To Catalina

“You must understand that Woodman and Weld make some demands on my time, and it’s an association I value; I couldn’t undertake to represent you as my only client.”

“Of course I understand that, Stone. I’m not making this offer off the top of my head.”

“You don’t seem the sort of man who would do that,” Stone said.

“You’re right. Understand, a great deal of what I want from a lawyer is his personal skills-the way he handles himself in a situation. I like to avoid litigation when possible, but I like to get my way, too.”

Stone smiled. “All clients do. David, I really don’t think I can give you an answer immediately. Of course, your proposal is extremely attractive, but I think I’d have to talk with Bill Eggers about it, preferably in person, and I expect to be here for another week, maybe longer.”

“Of course. Tell you what: I’m jammed up for the next few days, but I expect to be in New York late next week. Why don’t you and I sit down and talk about it then. I’ll gather some specifics on my current situation, and we can discuss the workload.”

“That sounds very good.” They exchanged cards, shook hands, and rejoined the other guests.

Over coffee, Stone exchanged a glance with Betty Southard and nodded toward the door. She smiled and nodded, and after a moment, he said his goodbyes to his host and left, a minute behind her.

Stone pulled into the Bel-Air parking lot and surrendered the car. In the lobby, he had to ask where the bar was. The room surprised him; it was more English than Californian, darkly paneled, with a blazing fire in a handsome fireplace. He found Betty already seated on a small sofa near the fireplace, a waiter hovering nearby; it was only a little after ten, but there were few people in the room.

He sat down beside her and ordered a brandy. “Thanks for coming; I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk more at the party.”

“Oh, it was my job to shepherd Arlene, the journalist, around the place; Vance didn’t want her talking to any one person for too long. He was very nervous about having her there at all; I still can’t figure out why he wanted her, and he wouldn’t tell me when I asked.”

“I’m sure he had his reasons,” Stone said, a little uncomfortable with knowing something she didn’t. “Does he confide in you about everything?”

“Not necessarily; it’s just that I work so closely with him that it’s hard to hide anything.” She smiled. “Say, you were quite a hit at the party.”

Stone squirmed in his seat. “Aren’t they that nice to everybody?”

She shook her head. “Normally, an out-of-town lawyer at a party like that would find himself talking to the wallpaper.”

“So how come I’m so popular?”

“You’re a handsome man they’ve read about in the papers, you’re younger than most of the other men there, and you’re the personal guest in town of their host, who is a major movie star.”

“And what was all that about the screen test?”

“Have youseen the test?”

“Yes. I found it excruciating.”

She laughed. “I saw it in a room with a dozen secretaries who’d heard about it, and there was a heavy scent of vaginal juices in the air.”

“Stop it!” he groaned.

“I believe you really are embarrassed,” she said, surprised.

“The whole thing is humiliating.”

“Forgive me; I’m accustomed to actors, any one of whom would have understood immediately what that test meant to his future in this town.”

“I don’t have a future in this town.”

“You do if you want it.”

“That’s what Fred Swims said,” Stone replied disconsolately.

“Come on, Stone, cheer up! It’s not as though you’re being tarred and feathered and ridden out of town on a rail. You’re having a moment in the limelight; enjoy it! Most men would be jumping up and down with glee!”

Stone laughed. “I suppose you’re right, but it’s a lot more than I’m accustomed to. I’m a bit at sea.”

She put a hand on his cheek. “What is it, baby?” she asked as if talking to a small child.

“Well, the test is pretty strange,” he said. “Then there’s the party tonight.”

“What about the party?”

“Look, I’m in town for hardly more than twenty-four hours, and I get a screen test and a part in a movie for very nice money. Then an agent-apparently a top one-wants to represent me, and then…” He stopped himself.

“Go on.”

“Here we get into a confidential area.”

“Most of my job is keeping Vance’s secrets; I suppose I can keep yours, too.”

“What do you know about David Sturmack?”

She shrugged. “He’s very important in these parts-behind the scenes, mostly.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, you never see anything in the trades about how Sturmack made this deal or even made a movie, but you hear stories…”

“What sort of stories?”

“Did you see Vance’s movieParting Time?”

“Yes, a long time ago.”

“Vance wasn’t supposed to be in that movie; he was under contract to another big studio, and they wouldn’t release him. Story is, Sturmack made one phone call and ten minutes later, Vance was inParting Time. It got him his first Academy Award, and the picture did half a billion dollars worldwide. A lot of informed opinion says that the picture would have tanked without Vance. So you see the kind of power that Sturmack can wield in a single phone call.”

“How did he come by all this power?”

“He had something to do with the unions.”

“What unions?”

“The craft unions, the ones that have all the technicians in the business as members. He got a reputation early on for solving the most difficult contract negotiations-he represented at least two of the unions, I forget which ones. That’s really about all I know about him, except that he and Vance are very close. I can tell better than anybody who Vance is really close to by the way he responds to their telephone calls. He dropseverything when Dave Sturmack calls. The only other person who gets that kind of attention from Vance is Lou Regenstein. And right now, you.”

“Me?”

“You’re on the hot list right now.”

“You mean, for the moment.”

“Nobody stays on Vance’s hot list forever, but right now, you’re up there.” She frowned. “Why is that, Stone?”

“Beats me,” Stone replied.

“Yeah, sure. I know it’s something to do with Arrington, but I can’t figure out what.”

“I haven’t spoken to Arrington for months.” Not many months, he thought, but months.

“You’re not going to tell me, huh?”

He shrugged. “I’m a lawyer, Betty; some things have to remain…”

She patted his hand. “I understand. I operate under pretty much the same strictures. When you work for somebody like Vance, confidentiality is currency. If Vance suddenly clutched his chest and turned blue, half the town would be trying to hire me before the paramedics arrived. But if I talked out of turn about Vance…”

“I understand,” he said.

“Then we both understand.” She smiled. It was sowthing she did well.

“Will you give me some advice?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“Should I actually do this part in the movie?”

She placed a hand on her chest. “Good God! If you don’t, Lou Regenstein will have a stroke. Mind you, he strokes very quietly: he’ll lift an eyebrow and you won’t ever get a dinner table in this town again.”

“So I’m stuck?”

She put her hand back on his cheek. “Don’t take it so hard, baby; it’s only fame and fortune. Most men would jump at the chance.” She lowered her voice. “And most men would have propositioned me by now.”