Just Dog,” Reuben said sorrowfully. “Maybe Jake, maybe not.” He stretched out on the leather couch. “G’night,” he mumbled.
Within minutes three sets of lusty snores permeated the room.
At 7:30 the following morning, before the building came to life, Irene unlocked the office door and shook the three men awake.
Reuben sat up, instantly aware of where he was and what had transpired during the previous hours. His stomach felt sour, and the pounding in his head was equal to that of a thousand drums. He struggled to a standing position, then wished he hadn’t. His shoulders shaking with exertion, he looked down at the floor where Rocky and Jerry were cursing to each other. He stretched one long arm toward Rocky, who reached for it after a moment’s debate. Jerry was next, his eyes holding a mixture of respect and suspicion.
“Now what?” he grumbled.
“I don’t know what you two Harvard boys are going to do, but I’m going back to the Ambassador and clean up.”
“Hold on, Tarz, I thought we left all that crap at the crossroads last night. I thought we were friends waiting for news of a mutual friend. What the hell kind of a son of a bitch are you that you can turn your emotions on and off at a second’s notice?”
Reuben wished he could squeeze the pain out of his head. Although he deserved what Rocky said, it didn’t make things better in his mind. Daniel, loyal, wonderful Daniel, had gone to them for help instead of him when the chips were down. But it wasn’t their fault. “I was out of line, sorry.”
“We’ll be in touch the minute we hear anything. You can stop by, camp out here, whatever you want. Do you need a car?”
Gingerly he shook his head. “No, I think I’ll take on the city by foot; I can use the exercise. But thanks for the offer.” He hesitated a fraction of a second before he held out his hand. The surprise on the faces of both men was worth the effort. Before the door closed behind him, Reuben heard Jerry mumbling about paying for two virgins and getting only one. He would have laughed, but his head hurt too much.
The only thing to do now, the only thing he could do, was wait.
Chapter Six
Bebe woke in slow degrees. First her eyes opened and then closed. It always took a good five minutes before she realized that she felt terrible, sick really. After another five minutes she’d succeeded in forcing the bile back to her stomach. Her second conscious thought was that she needed a drink to start the day more than she needed to brush her teeth and take a shower. Her third thought, always realistic, was how lucky she was that there was no one around to see how she looked and felt.
The diamond-studded watch on her wrist told her it was seven A.M. Usually she was just getting in at this hour, and here she was getting up with the roosters. Why, she asked herself, her foggy brain whirling. Oh, yes…she had something to do today that was important, something she’d promised herself she would do—early. Searching the pretty bedroom for the answer, she happened to glance at the little silver picture frame. Lily, sweet little Lily, Reuben’s daughter by his mistress, Rosemary. Rosemary with the big red bow. Rosemary had died in childbirth, and…she had agreed to take the baby when Reuben said they would make a fresh start in their marriage. Lily was a robust baby with fat pink cheeks that gobbled up bottle after bottle, never crying unless she was hungry. And then…and then…one morning she had stopped breathing. What was it the doctors said? Something about infant deaths with no reason. Unexplained. The casket had been small and white, the top covered with yellow-and-white daisies. She’d mourned—God, how she’d mourned!—not just for Lily, but for what she recognized as the final failure of her marriage. Lily had been her last chance to make Reuben love her, and…she was filing for divorce today. That was the important thing she couldn’t remember.
It was almost noon before Bebe had herself sufficiently together to leave the house. In the full light of day, her appearance had shocked her witless, so much so that she’d almost canceled her appointment with her attorney. Living the party life generally meant that she slept all day and partied all night. Lamplight and twilight were always kind to her ravished features, and makeup hid a multitude of flaws. Today, the harsh reality slammed her full in the face. She wanted to cry, to blubber, to wail and stamp her feet at what she’d become, but she didn’t. She’d done it to herself…with Reuben’s help. From somewhere deep inside her a warning bell sounded. It was the end of the road for her; either she straightened out her life, or she would be joining Lily in that never-never place everyone feared. Initiating divorce proceedings was to be her first step in her personal survival. From there she would take it one day at a time.
The lawyer’s name was Chester Rogal. He was considered small-time by most Hollywood standards, but he was successful by his own standards and that was all that counted. When he closed his office at night, he often bragged to himself that he’d never short-changed a client or lost a case. He’d settled cases out of court, but always to his client’s advantage. He was short and rotund, with a beak for a nose and an Abraham Lincoln beard that he constantly massaged while he was thinking. And he was thinking now as he listened to Bebe Tarz. Of course, he’d heard all the stories before, everyone had, and he was smart enough to know that there were two sides to everything and then there was the truth. But Chester never passed judgment. Ever. Now he was listening with what he called his third ear for some telltale sign that Bebe was going to prove less than profitable.
“It’s very simple, Mr. Rogal. The settlement can be one or the other. I see it as cut and dried. I want my father’s half of the studio returned to me and my brother, or else I want half of everything Reuben owns. Either way, I want his resignation from the studio. If we settle for half and he fights for his seat on the board, I’ll give that up if I have to, but I want him out of there. What I really want is the studio; it belongs to my family. He robbed my father, and I don’t care what the media says about him being Fairmont Studios. Do you foresee a problem with any of this?” Bebe asked.
“Well, I’d be lying to you if I said the man won’t put up a fight. He’s given his life to the studio, and you want to yank it out from under him. Of course, he’s going to put up a fight. But we’ll work something out,” Chester said confidently.
“Mr. Rogal, I want you to cut him off at the knees. And I want to take back my maiden name after the divorce.” Bebe scribbled out a check for an outrageous sum of money and placed it on the desk with a trembling hand. “You will earn every cent of this, and if things go the way I want them to go, there will be a bonus in it for you. I’ll be in touch, Mr. Rogal.”
Chester buzzed his secretary after Bebe had left. When he heard her voice he smiled. “Helen, I want you to get me every word that’s ever been printed about Hollywood’s golden boy, Reuben Tarz.” He continued to smile as he stared at the check in his hand. Four lovely zeros, all in a row.
The moment Bebe swung the powerful car into the driveway leading to the house, she knew something was wrong. Her brother Eli and Clovis Ames, Fairmont’s leading lady of silent films and Sol Rosen’s second wife, were talking together on the front steps. Bebe felt her throat constrict. Something had happened to her father.
“We’ve been waiting, sis. Sit down. It’s Pop, he’s had a stroke. He…didn’t make it. Clovis was with him in the ambulance.”
“He didn’t suffer, Bebe,” Clovis said gently. “It was quick and…merciful, if you can say that about death. I…I want to do the right thing…. I’m not Jewish…Eli said he would handle things, so perhaps you two should talk about this. I can go back to the house or…I can stay, it’s up to you.”
In
