Stuart Woods - Insatiable Appetites

“Morning, Dad. The Centurion jet is coming from London this afternoon, and we’re going to meet them at Teterboro tomorrow morning for the ride to L.A.”

“I’ll be sorry to see you all go,” Stone said. “Fred will drive you to Teterboro.”

“Good.”

“How about a farewell dinner tonight?”

“That would be great.” Peter examined a fingernail. “Dad, I need your advice about something.”

“I’ll give you the family rate,” Stone replied. “Shoot.”

“Leo Goldman has been very attentive to us since we’ve been at Centurion,” he said. Goldman, and his father before him, were CEOs at the studio.

“That’s very good.”

“It has been, in lots of ways, but I’m afraid he has designs on Ben.”

“Hand-on-knee designs?”

“No, employment designs. He’s offered Ben the head of production job at Centurion. The current guy is retiring soon.”

“Wow, that’s quite a promotion for a young, independent producer with three movies under his belt.”

“Ben has been spending a lot of time with Leo and the production chief, learning the operation.”

“Is Ben inclined to accept?”

“He’s having trouble making a decision.”

“How do you feel about the situation?”

“I’d hate to lose Ben as a partner,” Peter said.

“Can’t he produce your films and still hold the production chief job?”

“He says he can.”

“Then maybe he can. Maybe he could try the job for a year or two, and if he doesn’t find it satisfying, come back to the partnership.”

“Maybe, but I’ve got a replacement for Ben all lined up.”

“Anybody I’ve ever heard of?”

“Teddy Fay.”

Stone’s eyes widened. “You’re not supposed to know that name. He’s Billy Burnett now.”

“He sat Ben and me down a few weeks ago and told us the whole story. Said he was uncomfortable with us not knowing who we were employing. It’s one hell of a story, isn’t it?”

“He told you about the sealed pardon, then?”

“He did, and he’s very grateful to you.”

“And you think Teddy — sorry, Billy — could replace Ben?”

“Billy has been a very fast learner, and he’s incredibly smart. Ben reckons he’s saved us more production money than we’re paying him.”

“Sounds like he should have a raise.”

“That will happen. So the advice I want is, what should I do? I’m emotionally attached to Ben, but I wouldn’t want to stand in his way. Leo has told him that when he retires, Ben might well become the next CEO.”

Stone nodded. “It sounds to me as though you don’t have a decision to make.”

“Oh?”

“It’s Ben’s decision.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

“His mother and I distributed Eduardo’s estate yesterday, so Ben is now a rich man, and he can do whatever he likes.”

“He told me.”

“My advice is to let Ben make his decision, then, whatever it is, you find a way to live with it. Sounds like his moving up wouldn’t disrupt things, what with Billy waiting in the wings. Does Billy know about all this?”

“No, I haven’t mentioned it to him. But you’re right, it’s Ben’s decision, and I’ll tell him whatever he wants to do is all right with me.”

“I think that’s the way to go.”

“One other thing bothers me, though. What if Billy’s true identity becomes public? What would that do to my company?”

“To the best of my knowledge, there are only six people who know about it: you and Ben, the president, the president-elect, Billy’s wife, and me. It’s not in the interest of any of them for it to become known, so he’s safe, and so are you. Certainly, Billy isn’t going to tell anybody else.”

“That’s a good point,” Peter said, “and I feel better about all this now. I’ll talk to Ben on the way to L.A., and we’ll see how it goes.”

“Peter, do you think Ben has told Dino about Billy?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll find out.”

Peter stood up and gave Stone a hug. “Thanks, Dad. You have a way of cutting through the forest to expose the trees.”

Stone watched his son leave, then buzzed Joan and asked her to book a table for seven in the library at the Writing Room.

Then he contemplated the conversation he had just had with Peter. It made him feel good to have been able to give his son advice.

Dolce was in the kitchen preparing dinner when Father Frank returned from his obligatory visit to the archdiocese, clad in a black raincoat buttoned to the throat, to cover his collar, and a black hat. He was dripping wet.

“Big rain out there,” he said. “What’s that I smell?”

“Garlic, probably,” she said, kissing him.

He hung his coat and hat on a peg by the service entrance and came back with his collar in his hand. “I’m going to change out of this wet uniform. Can I bring you a drink back?”

“I’ll have some of that Irish, please.”

He returned shortly with two drinks, and they clinked glasses.

“Listen, I’m going to get cabin fever if we stay cooped up here all the time.”

“What’s the matter? Not getting enough sex?”

He kissed her on the back of the neck. “Not nearly enough.”

“We’ll work on that in farthest Brooklyn,” she said.

“What’s in farthest Brooklyn?”

“The family,” she said. “We’re moving tomorrow morning.”

“What sort of place?”

“We’ll let that be a surprise,” she said. She had another surprise for him, too; she couldn’t wait to spring it.

The following morning when they were ready to go, Dolce said, “You leave the building now, make two right turns, and wait for me on the next corner. I’ll pick you up.”

“Shall I take my bag?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m off.”

“I’ll be with you in five minutes.”

She got into the rented limo while the doorman put her luggage into the trunk. She had already dispatched half a dozen boxes of her own things by a messenger van. Frank was waiting where he had been told to; he put his case into the trunk and got into the rear seat.

Dolce closed the glass partition between them and the driver. “You’re going to love it out there,” she said.

Pietro was waiting in front of the house when they pulled up, and he took their luggage upstairs.

“Wow!” the priest said, looking around.

“Come, I’ll give you the tour,” Dolce said. She started with her father’s study.

“This is my dream library,” Frank said, scanning the titles on the shelves. “Your father and I even have a lot of the same books.”

“Let me show you the art,” she said, leading the way down the hall and through the living and dining rooms, with their explosion of pictures and sculpture, then she showed him the chapel. “You can pray here, and I can confess,” she said, making him laugh. “Now to my favorite part of the property.”

She led him out the rear doors to the garden, and they walked into the patch of woods past the mausoleum. “My father is in there,” she said. Then they came out of the woods to where the old stone barn stood, on a creek leading down to the bay, the gleaming mahogany runabout in which Eduardo had enjoyed sightseeing trips in the creek and bay with Pietro at the helm bobbed at the little dock. The tide was coming in.

“The barn is not finished yet, but you can get the idea.” She pushed open the big doors at one end.

“What a wonderful space,” Frank said, stepping in and looking around.

“I put in the skylights,” she said. “Now the light is perfect. And I have room to do large pieces here.” They skirted an area where a bucket of paint rested on a ladder and the floor was covered with a plastic drop cloth. “The painting is nearly done. They’ll be back to finish on Monday.” She showed him the fully equipped kitchenette. “So I won’t have to go back to the main house for lunch.”