Stuart Woods - L.A. Dead

The woman to Stone's left seemed to be in her eighties and deaf, while the handsome and chilly Livia, to Stone's right, seemed disinclined to acknowledge his presence. Dolce, across the table, shot him long, hostile looks whenever his eyes wandered her way. Only Charlene seemed happy. She had drawn Eduardo, to her left, and between her large eyes and her beautiful breasts, she seemed to have him mesmerized.

"How long have you known that woman?" a deep, whiskey-scarred voice asked.

Stone jerked to attention. Livia had spoken to him. "Oh, we met only recently. This is the first time we've been out." That was, strictly speaking, the truth. They had done all sorts of things at home, but they had not been out.

"I would be careful, if I were you," Livia said. "She probably has a social disease."

"I beg your pardon?" Stone said, astonished that a hostess would say such a thing to her guest about his companion.

"More than likely, a fatal social disease," Livia said, ignoring his reaction.

"Mrs. Regenstein…"

"I detest that name; call me Livia."

"You detest your husbands name?"

"And my husband, as well."

"Then why are you married to him?"

"I find it convenient; I have for more than twenty years. But enough about me; let's talk about you. What did you do to little Miss Bianchi that would invite a drink in the face?"

"My private life," Stone said, "unlike yours, is private."

"You're going to be a bore, aren't you?" she asked.

"You will probably think so."

"Who are you, anyway?"

"My name is Stone Barrington."

"Ah, yes, Louis has mentioned you. You're that disreputable lawyer from New York who was screwing Arrington Calder just before she married Vance, aren't you?"

Stone looked across the table, caught Charlene's eye and jerked his head toward the door. Then he turned to Livia Regenstein. "Goodbye, you miserable bitch," he said quietly, then he got up and walked out of the dining room. He waited a moment for Charlene to catch up, then led her toward the front door.

While Charlene was waiting for her wrap, and the valet was bringing Stone's car, Lou Regenstein caught up with them. "What's wrong, Stone? Why are you leaving?"

"Lou, I must apologize; I'm afraid I don't have a scorecard for the games that are played in this town. I'm sorry if I made your wife and your guests uncomfortable."

"It's I who should apologize," Lou said. "Livia can be hard to take."

"I'll see you soon," Stone said. They shook hands, and he and Charlene left the house.

Stone put the top down. "I need some air," he said, turning down the street. "I hope it won't disturb your hair."

"Don't worry about it," Charlene replied. "Well, that was quite an evening. What were you and Livia talking about, dare I ask?"

"You, mostly," Stone said.

"Oh. I may as well tell you. For a short time Livia and I shared a lover."

"Not Lou, I hope."

"No, someone much younger. Shortly after I came into the picture, the man stopped seeing Livia. Livia has been livid ever since."

"This is my fault; I should have told you where we were having dinner."

"Listen, Sugar, don't worry about it; I didn't have half as bad a time as you."

"What were you and Eduardo talking about?"

"The movie business, mostly."

"He seemed fascinated."

"I'm sure he was. He spoke well of you, too."

"Did he?"

"He said you were a gentleman."

"And that was just before I caused a scene by walking out of an elegant dinner party."

"I'm sure his opinion of you hasn't changed."

"You know, until this week, I had never in my life walked out of any dinner party, and now, in the space of three days, I've walked out of two."

"Are you upset?"

"Not really; I must be getting used to it."

"I guess folks out here aren't working with quite the same social graces as their counterparts in New York."

Stone reached Sunset and turned toward the studio. "How'd you happen to come out here?"

"You want the fan magazine version, or the truth?"

"The truth will do nicely."

"Hang a left here," she said. "There's a nice little restaurant down the street, and we haven't had dinner."

Stone followed directions. "No, we haven't."

The restaurant was not all that small, but it was very elegant, and the headwaiter, spotting Charlene, had them at a special table in seconds. They ordered drinks and dinner.

"Okay, now tell me your story," he said.

"It's a strange one," she said. "I'm from Meriwether County, Georgia, near a little town called Delano."

"That's where Betty Southard, Vance's secretary, is from."

"True, but she was older than I, so we didn't really know each other. Anyway, I was pretty much a country girl, and I had this boyfriend who murdered a girl, in Greenville, the county seat. The court appointed a lawyer named Will Lee to defend my boyfriend."

"Wait a minute, is this the Senator from Georgia? The presidential candidate?"

"Yes, but not at that time. Old Senator Carr, who Will worked for, had a stroke, and Will ran for his seat, but the judge wouldn't let him out of defending Larry, my boyfriend, even though it was during the campaign. As you might imagine, the trial attracted a lot of press coverage."

"I think I remember this vaguely," Stone said, "but not the outcome."

"Larry was convicted and sentenced to death. A tabloid paid me for my story, and all of a sudden, Hollywood was sniffing around. Next thing I knew I was out here, with a part in a movie. Then there was another part and another, and the rest is pulp fiction."

"Amazing. Was the boyfriend executed?"

She shook her head. "I went to see the governor of Georgia and personally, ah, interceded on his behalf. His sentence was commuted to life without parole. We still correspond."

"Was he guilty?"

"Oh, yes."

"That's the damndest story I ever heard."

"There's more.

"Tell me."

"Will Lee and I had a little one-time encounter that became a side issue in the presidential race."

"That was you?"

"I'm afraid so. When I'm old and washed up, somebody's going to make a really bad TV movie about all this, and then I'm going to write my memoirs."

"I'm sure it will be a hot seller."

"You better believe it, Sugar."

After dinner, he drove her back to her car at Centurion, and they said good night.

"One thing," he said to her.

"What's that, Baby?" she asked, putting her arms around his neck.

"Dolce has taken this whole business hard. After tonights events, I think you should be careful."

"You mean, watch my back?"

"Yes, that's what I mean."

She kissed him. "Sugar," she said, "Dolce doesn't want to mess with me."

"I hope you're right."

She kissed him again. "Should I go armed?"

"Do you own a gun?"

She nodded. "All legal-like, too."

"Try not to shoot at anybody; you might hit me."

"I shoot what I aim at, Sugar." She kissed him again, then got into her car. "By the way," she said, as she put the top down. "There's going to be a kind of memorial for Vanessa tomorrow at my house. Will you come?"

Stone nodded. "Sure."

"Just a few people. Six o'clock."

"I'll be there."

She gave a little wave and drove away.

The memorial for Vanessa Pike at Charlene's house seemed more of a memorial cocktail party, Stone reflected as he walked into the well-populated living room. Everyone had a drink, even if, in the California style, it was designer fizzy water, and there was a buffet at one end of the room laden with raw vegetables, melon, and other low-fat delicacies.

Charlene came and gave him a virtuous peck on the cheek. "I think you'll know a few people," she said. "Mingle while I greet."