CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
… Eitel on a particular night, a period of years after he returned to the capital. It was evening, and he had been busy since eight in the morning on his latest film. Now, as the cameramen were storing their equipment for the following day, and the electricians were wheeling the floor lamps into position on the set which would be used tomorrow, and the actors were quitting their portable dressing rooms and nodding good night to him, Eitel felt the gentle melancholy which always came over him when work was ended and the giant sound stage began to close down, almost as if he were recapturing a mood from childhood when he was hurrying back from school on a winter afternoon and a gray wind carried him in its path, blowing him home before the approaching night. One of his assistants was holding a scratchboard at his elbow with some mimeographed requisition that he was supposed to sign, and the wardrobe man was beckoning to him from a yard away, expressing an odd frustration in the little dance he made, as though for weeks he had been trying to get a word with Eitel. Actually, they had had a five-minute conference at lunch, but the wardrobe man was changeable, and whatever they had decided was probably to be decided again.
“No, that’s all, that’s all,” Eitel shouted, “we’ll work everything out in the morning,” and then with a wide wave of his hand which included the scenery and the equipment and the cave of the sound stage as much as any of the film crew who still were left, he pulled away from the ten minor decisions which nipped at his attention, clapped another of his assistants on the back, and pushed through one of the sound-proofed doors out to the studio street. In their Cadillac convertibles, studio executives were moving by at ten miles an hour, and the stenographers and secretaries were coming through the wide marble exit of the administration building, while along one of the alleys, quitting still another sound stage, a covey of lascars and pirates with their make-up vivid in the twilight came brawling toward him, talking with loud voices, their bright rags of costumes soon to be shucked in the studio’s storage rooms. A dozen or more said hello to him. Like a politician, Eitel accepted their greetings, nodding to one, smiling to another, catching a confused and tired view of bloodstained handkerchiefs wound about their heads, and crimson shirts, and full bloused pants with cinematic patches.
When he got to his office in one of the private bungalows reserved for directors he told his secretary to get Collie Munshin on the phone, and then Eitel poured himself a drink and began to shave.
Before he was done, the call came through. “How’d it go today, lover?” said the producer in his high-pitched voice.
“It was all right, I think,” Eitel said. “We’re still on schedule.”
“I’ll be down tomorrow on the set. I saw H.T. today, and I told him this picture was going to be good.”
“Everybody’s aware of that, Collie.”
“I know, I know, baby. But this has got to be good.”
“They all have to be good,” Eitel said irritably. As he spoke, he continued to shave with his free hand. “Look, Collie,” he said in a somewhat different tone, “I called Elena at lunchtime and told her you wanted a story conference with me tonight. I don’t believe she’ll call you, but if she does, will you run interference?”
He could feel Munshin’s hesitation. This was the third time in a month he had asked such a favor. “Charley, I’ll do whatever you want,” Munshin said slowly, “but don’t forget that tomorrow’s important too.”
“Stop being a bully,” Eitel said sharply. “Why do you think I’m going out tonight?”
Munshin sighed. “Give the lady my regards.”
By the time Eitel reached the executive parking lot and stepped into his car, it was already dark. He maneuvered through the few streets of heavy traffic which circulated about the studio, and then accelerated his automobile onto one of the wide boulevards which led to the ocean. In her beach house, Lulu would be waiting, and she would be annoyed that he was late.
He had been having an affair with her for half a year, and they would see each other sometimes as often as once a week. The biggest problem was to find a place to meet. Lulu’s home, in one of the suburbs of the capital, had proved impractical, there were always friends coming in for a drink, and they had been obliged to settle for the beach house. Since it was winter, the weather was rainy, and most of the film colony who lived at the beach had moved back to the city. This left the house more or less secluded, yet it was not impossible that someone he knew would see him enter, and Eitel would park his car a distance away and walk up on foot. By another month, spring would come, and they would have to arrange some other meeting place.
On the drive, Eitel tried not to think about the movie he was making. It was the fourth picture he had directed since Saints and Lovers, and it was nothing remarkable. A comedy about two people who find themselves married by accident, there was very little which was not cliché, but the film had a large budget, the largest of any picture which had been assigned to him since he had returned to the capital, and two of the biggest stars at Supreme were acting in it. His career depended to an extent on this comedy, for the partial success of Saints and Lovers and the middling returns on his other three pictures had not hurt him, but they had not helped him either. Given the situation, there was more than enough pressure. So, as he rode to Lulu’s house, Eitel brooded over what he must face in the next few days, worrying about the animosity which was developing between the female star and a young actress who was giving a good supporting performance, too good—it could overshadow the star—thinking that over the week end he would have to work with the writer on the dialogue of a climactic scene, it was just not comic enough, and all the while Eitel was wondering with a dull fear whether the pace was too fast or too slow. That was the question one could never answer until the cutting was done, but if his instinct was not serving him right, he could only hope it would be possible to patch the picture. Eitel sighed. He had come in sight of the beach house, and still had not rid himself of the day’s work.
Lulu was waiting impatiently. “I thought you’d never get here,” she said.
“It was an awful day,” Eitel said. “You don’t know how much I was looking forward to this.”
Lulu did not react properly. “Charley,” she said, “would you be very angry if we let things go for tonight? I’m sort of upset.”
He controlled his resentment. He had gone to considerable trouble to arrange these few hours and she should realize that. However, he merely smiled. “We’ll do whatever you want,” Eitel said.
“Charley, you know I have a tremendous physical feeling for you. My God, you’re the only man I have outside of Tony, and I don’t have to tell you what that’s like.”
Eitel gave his tender smile again. He had heard she was having two other affairs, but then, one never knew.
Lulu began to walk up and down the living room, picking her way through the beach-house furniture. “I need your advice,” she said abruptly. “Charley, there’s a crisis on.”
“A crisis?” Eitel was on guard. Could Lulu be about to make demands?
“Tony’s in trouble.” Quietly, Lulu began to cry. “I could kill him,” she said.
“What happened?”
“My press agent, Monroney, was on the phone for half an hour just now. He says I’ve got to release a statement to the papers, but he doesn’t know what I should say. Charley, I don’t either, and I have to give the statement in the next ten minutes.”
“But what is it?”
“Tony beat up a waitress in a restaurant in Pittsburgh.”
Eitel clicked his tongue. “That is a mess.”
“It’s terrible,” Lulu said. “I knew Tony would get in trouble on his tour. Why does the studio send him out on personal appearances? They ought to keep him in a cage. He’s been drunk for two days, Monroney said.”
“Well, what do you think you ought to do?”
“I don’t know. If I make the wrong move, this could finish my career.”
“More probably,
it’ll finish Tony.”
She shook her head. “Not with his luck. He’s the biggest thing in town. The studio has to save him. But I can’t afford this.” Lulu cried out in anger, “Why does Tony have to do these things?”
“Don’t you think you ought to get in touch with Supreme?”
“No,” she said, “Charley, you’re not thinking. Don’t you see it’s Tony they’re going to protect. They haven’t even tried to call me. That’s the proof. They’re going to spread the story that I drove Tony to it because I’m a bad wife.”
“Supreme can’t afford to sacrifice you,” Eitel said.
“The hell they can’t. Tony’s Bimmler is higher than mine.”
“That’s only temporary.”
“Charley, stop giving me a sermon,” Lulu shrieked.
“Don’t scream at me, Lulu.”
By an effort she calmed herself. “I’m sorry,” she muttered.
“What does Monroney say?”
Lulu put her drink down. “He’s an idiot. I’m going to fire him when this is over. He thinks I should make a statement that I wash my hands of Tony, and that Tony’s brutal, and that I know exactly what that waitress went through, and so forth and so forth.”
“People won’t like it,” Eitel said.
“Of course they won’t. But Monroney says that’s the best I can do. His theory is that I have to attack before Supreme attacks me.” She threw her arms out widely. “Charley, I can’t think straight.”
“Lulu, baby,” Eitel said, “let me fill your glass. It’s not as bad as you think.”
“I’m so wound up, Charley. Please help me.”
He nodded. “I’m no expert on public relations but I have picked up a little bit.” Eitel smiled. “Offhand, I’d say it’s a mistake to try to fight Supreme’s publicity. They’re too strong for you.”
“I know they are,” she shouted in exasperation.
“But you don’t have to oppose their strength. You can use it.” Eitel paused significantly. “They don’t want to lose you unless they have to. If you make it possible, Supreme will be happy to save Tony and you.”
“Charley, be specific.”
“Well, you know, people love certain kinds of confessions,” Eitel said. “What I would suggest is to take the blame on yourself. Only do it in such a way that everybody feels sympathy for you.”
“I think I see what you mean,” Lulu said. “But will Monroney know how to exploit it?”
“Have you got a typewriter?” Eitel asked. “I can work it out in five minutes.”
She sat him down at a desk in her den, and he lit a cigarette, took a swallow of his drink, and began to write:
Reached at her home, Miss Meyers who was busy entertaining some children from the Bonny-Kare Society for Under-privileged Children, said today, “It’s all my fault. Tony must not be blamed. I feel terrible about that poor waitress, and I know Tony feels even worse. But the emotional and psychological difficulties which led Tony to commit such an act are all of my making. Deep down, Tony has a wonderful character, but I’ve failed to give him the love and unselfishness he needs, although in my own cockeyed childish way I love him very much. Perhaps, out of this trouble, which is my responsibility more than Tony’s, I will achieve the maturity and humility I’ve been looking for so long. I’m flying to Pittsburgh right away to be with Tony, and I hope that out of all this something good may come for Tony even more than me.”
“Charley, you’re a great man,” Lulu said and hugged him again. “I’ll call Monroney right away.” The phone in her hand, however, she hesitated. “What about this Bonny-Kare thing?” she asked.
“I know Gustafson very well. It’s one of the charity drives he manages. Send him a check for five hundred, and you won’t have any trouble there. He’ll even release his own statement. ‘One of the most kindhearted actresses in this town.’ ” Eitel grinned. “Only have Monroney call him right away. While you’re at it, tell him to get the airplane reservation too.”
When the phone calls were finished, Lulu came and sat on his lap. “I don’t have to be at the airport for two hours,” she said, “but I ought to call my maid to pack a bag and meet me there.”
“Let it wait.”
“Oh, Charley, you’re really a man,” Lulu said. “Monroney thinks it’s so good that he tried to tell me he was working on the same angle himself. He’s going to send a copy to Supreme as soon as the wire services release it.”
“If the newspapers take it on, and I’m sure they will,” Eitel said, “you’ll be publicity for a week at least.”
“I’ll never be able to thank you enough. Why did I know it was you who could do it?” she asked fondly.
“Because we’re just old thieves,” he smiled.
“Charley, let’s make love,” Lulu said. “Right now you look good enough to eat.”
They spent a pleasant quarter of an hour, and when they were done, Lulu gave him three quick kisses on his bald spot. “You’re the youngest man I know,” she said.
He felt comfortable. It was warm in the room and warm next to her body and the tension of the day’s work had passed from him. He held Lulu fondly and smiled when she began to meow like a kitten. Let her have this rest, he thought; she would be busy enough the next ten days.
Lulu stirred in his arms and he sighed for her. Now her mind was active again. “Charley,” she said slowly, “there’s one trouble.”
“Only one?” he asked gently.
“Well, you know I was planning to divorce Tony, and now I won’t be able to. Not for a year at least.”
“Would you really have divorced him so soon?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know really. Maybe I do love him.”
“Maybe you do.”
“It’s just I hate the idea how he used me. I never should have let you go.”
“We were meant to be friends,” Eitel said. “It’s better this way.”
“Sometimes I’m scared, Charley. I never used to be scared.”
“It comes and it goes.”
She propped herself up and lit a cigarette. “I saw Teddy Pope yesterday,” she said. “It’s funny. I never liked him but now I feel sorry for him.”
“What is he doing?” Eitel asked.
“He’s still looking for work. He told me he might have a job in an independent production. I told him to go East and he said he would, but he won’t. I think he’s afraid of the theater.”
“I wish I could do something for him,” Eitel said.
“Teddy’s really nice in his own way,” Lulu said, and blew cigarette smoke toward her belly. “Right in the middle of all his trouble with Teppis, it took courage to go see Marion in jail. Only he was a fool to give that crazy statement. He didn’t have to throw it in everybody’s face that Marion was his friend,” She touched Eitel’s arm. “I’m sorry, Charley.”
“Whatever for?” He resented this, however.
“Well, I’d forgotten about Marion and Elena.”
“It’s all light. Everybody has forgotten.” Eitel shrugged.
“Elena’s a good girl,” Lulu said.
“Yes.”
Lulu looked sad. “After I left Teddy, I kept thinking that H.T. was right. Maybe I should have married Teddy. We might have worked out, and we’d both be better off today.” Lulu began to cry. “Oh, Charley, I’m depressed. I wish I hadn’t seen Teddy.”
Eitel comforted her. For a while they chatted, and then he looked at his watch. “You better get dressed if you’re going to make that plane.”
“I almost forgot,” she said. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”
She talked to him while she was in the shower. “Good luck on your picture while I’m gone,” Lulu called out.
“Thank you.”
“When I’m in Pittsburgh can I phone your house if I need advice?”
“I guess so. Under the circumstances I can find some explanation for Elena.”
“She’s jealous, isn’t she?” Lulu asked.
“Sometimes.”
“Charley, I hope you have luck with this picture. Lord knows you’re due. I thought Saints and Lovers was one of the greatest pictures I ever saw, and so did everybody else in town. You should have gotten a Hercules for it.”
“Well, I didn’t.”
There was silence while she powdered her feet. “Charles, are you happy with Elena?” Lulu asked.
“I’m not unhappy,” he said.
“Elena’s improved a lot.”
“I suppose her analyst helped her.”
“Don’t believe it,” Lulu said. “I’ve been going to my head shrinker for five years and he’s never done a thing for me. It’s you. You’ve been good for Elena. You’re good for everybody.”
“That’s a novel role for me,” Eitel said.
“You’re always too hard on yourself.”
“Maybe I’m too easy now.”
Lulu opened the bathroom door and stuck her tongue out at him. “Nonsense. You just remember that.” She made a point of leaving the door open. “Charley, tell me about Victor. I was going to send him a present the other day but I forgot to.”
“Vickie,” Eitel said, “ah, I love Vickie.”
“I never could have thought of you as a father.”
“Neither could I, but I love that baby.”
Did he love him? he wondered, feeling a desire to hold the child in his arms. Victor resembled Elena; not Elena as she was now, he thought, but Elena as he had first known her. Yet, what was the truth? There were times when he did not think of Victor for a week at a time.
“How do you know you love him?” Lulu asked curiously.
Eitel was about to answer, “Because I want him to be better than me,” but instead he smiled.
“Maybe I ought to have children,” Lulu said. “I wonder if that’s the answer for me.”
“Better call your maid and tell her to meet you at the airport.”
When Lulu had finished dressing, he drove her car out of the garage and opened the door for her. “Just keep your head, and everything will be all right,” Eitel said.
“Want to follow me to the airport in your car?”