Stuart Woods - Swimming To Catalina

Stone laughed. “Lou Regenstein tells me I’m too old to be a star.”

“God forbid I should contradict Lou, but the mature leading man isin right now-look at Harrison Ford-Christ, look at Clint Eastwood! The man is in his late sixties! And you’re what, thirty-eight?”

“I’m forty-two.”

Swims leaned forward and spoke conspiratorially. “Promise me that number will never pass your lips until you’re fifty,” he said. “That number will be between you and me; you’re thirty…well, in your late…in yourearly late thirties.”

“I promise,” Stone said gravely.

Swims slipped a card into Stone’s jacket pocket. “I want you to call me tomorrow morning, early, and we’ll do lunch and talk about what the future holds for you. Believe me, it’s very bright, but I don’t want to impose on my host’s good nature by talking business in his house.” He gave a Boy Scout salute and wandered off in pursuit of a waiter.

Stone was finally able to find Betty Southard, who was still talking with the only other unaccompanied woman in the room.

“Hello,” Betty said warmly. “Stone, this is Arlene Michaels of theHollywood Reporter.”

“So you’re the newactor in town,” the woman said, shaking hands. “I’ve heard about your test.”

Stone shook his head. “I think that test is going to turn out to be a great embarrassment,” he said.

“My dear, whyever would it be embarrassing? I saw Fred Swims buttonhole you. He’s tops, you know; you couldn’t do better for an agent. Your dreams are about to come true.”

“I’m afraid my dreams don’t run in that direction,” Stone said. “I’m a lawyer, and I like to confine my acting to the courtroom.”

“Well,” Betty said, “thatis where you’ll be doing your acting. They’re working overtime tonight to build the set; the scene wasn’t scheduled for another three weeks, but I guess Lou Regenstein really wanted to get you into that part while you’re here.”

Stone was surprised. Regenstein had told him that the scene had already been scheduled for the next day. “I’m baffled by the whole experience,” Stone said.

Arlene Michaels suddenly produced a notebook. “It’s two r’s, is it?”

“That’s right.”

“And you’re a New York lawyer?”

“Right again.”

“You used to live with Arrington, didn’t you?”

“I live in my own house,” he replied. “Arrington and I are good friends.”

“Well, ‘good friends’ can meananything in this town,” she said, scribbling away. “This your first movie part?”

“Oh, yes.”

“You sure?”

“I think I’d remember if I’d been in a movie.”

“Tell me, how does Vance feel about having Arrington’s old beau in town?”

“You should ask Vance; I’m here at his invitation.”

“A little male bonding while the wife is out of town, huh?”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Stone said.

“Really, Arlene,” Betty broke in. “You’re grilling Stone.”

“It’s what I do, honey,” Michaels said. “What are your first impressions of L.A., Stone?”

“I’m very favorably impressed,” Stone said, looking around the room.

“Well, it’s not all like this,” she said. “My first time in this house, I can tell you. Vance isn’t known for inviting the press into his home.”

Betty spoke up. “Arlene, you know Vance is a very private person.”

“Shy, you could say.”

“You could say. I’d think you’d be pleased to be the first reporter in this house for years.”

“Well, there was theArchitectural Digest piece last year, wasn’t there?”

“It’s hardly the same thing.”

Stone took Betty’s arm and guided her away. “Arlene, would you excuse us for just a moment? There’s something I have to discuss with Betty.”

“Sure,” Michaels replied.

Stone made sure his back was to the woman. “I understand that L.A. parties end early.”

“Always,” Betty said. “It’s an early town; everybody is at work at the crack of dawn.”

“Do you think you and I could have a drink somewhere later?”

“All right, but I have to be at work early, too. Let’s meet at the bar in the Bel-Air Hotel,” she said.

“Fine.”

“Now, we’d better rejoin Arlene; we don’t want her to go away miffed.”

They turned back to the woman and found her gone. She’d cornered Vance, and he was saved only by the tinkling of a silver bell.

“Dinner is served,” the Filipino butler called out.

The crowd, which had grown since Stone had arrived, moved out of the rear doors to a wide terrace, where tables of eight had been set. Stone looked at the place cards and found his seat, between Barbara Sturmack and a man who appeared, like Stone, to be alone. He helped Mrs. Sturmack with her chair, then turned to meet the man next to him.

“I’m Onofrio Ippolito,” the man said. He was shorter than Stone, heavily built without being fat, with thick, short salt-and-pepper hair.

“I’m Stone Barrington.” They shook hands.

“What brings you out here, Mr. Barrington?” the man asked.

“Just visiting friends,” Stone replied.

“That’s not what I heard,” Ippolito said.

Stone was about to ask what he’d heard when Barbara Stunnack tugged at his sleeve and began introducing him to others seated at the table. Stone never did resume his conversation with Ippolito.

When dinner was finished, they rose to go into the house for coffee, and Stone found David Sturmack walking alongside him. “Could I have a word with you alone?” he asked.

“Of course,” Stone replied and allowed himself to be steered into what he thought must be Vance’s study, a medium-sized room paneled in antique pine, with many fine pictures on the walls. When they were comfortably seated, Sturmack began.

“Stone, I do a great deal of business on the West Coast and some business in New York. I’m considering changing my legal representation in the city, and I wondered if you might be interested in representing me?”

“That’s very flattering, Mr. Sturmack-”

“David, please.”

“David. What sort of business do you do in New York?”

“Some real estate; I have interests in a couple of restaurants, and I may want to develop more with some friends; I invest in businesses; I buy, I sell; occasionally I litigate something. I’m a lawyer myself by training, but I haven’t practiced in years.”

“I should tell you that I don’t have any extensive experience in real estate and none at all in restaurants.”

“I’m aware of that; I spoke at some length with a Mr. William Eggers at Woodman and Weld this afternoon. He says that since you’re of counsel to his firm, they’d be willing to lend backup support and expertise in various specialties as needed.”

Stone was off balance; he hadn’t expected this. “Who represents you at the moment?”

“My principal attorneys are Hyde, Tyson, McElhenny and Wade, but I’ve been contemplating a move for some time.”

“What sort of billing have they experienced with you?”

“In excess of a million dollars a year. Of course, you’d have to take care of Woodman and Weld, but all the billing would be through you, and I imagine you’d be able to hang on to most of the fees. Also, there would be opportunities to invest some of your fees in various ventures, at an extremely good rate of return.”

“Mr. Sturmack, may I be frank?”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“You and I have met only this evening; you know little about me or my skills; why do you want me to represent you?”

“Stone, I know a great deal more about you than you think: I know about your record with the NYPD, I know about the major cases you’ve handled, and I know about how you handle yourself”