years. I’ve read the script and heard the score, and you’re perfect for it.”
“How are you going to get him to apologize?” Carrie asked.
“Oh, he’s never going to apologize,” Goodwin said. “The best you can hope for is that he will deign to forget what he did in his office and what you did at the dinner party. If you can forget it, too, he might be willing to call it a draw. I’ve known him a long time, and I know how to handle him.”
“Mr. Goodwin,” Carrie said, “I’m well aware of who you are and how good you are. Get me the part, and I’ll be your new client the same day.”
“It won’t be that hard,” Goodwin said. “After all, you’ve already aced the audition. Come see me tomorrow afternoon at three.” He shook her hand, then Stone’s, and then wandered off into the crowd.
“That sounds promising,” Stone said.
“If I could have picked anybody for an agent, it would have been Mark Goodwin,” Carrie said. “The day before yesterday, I couldn’t have gotten in to see him.”
“Your movie continues,” Stone said. “Next, we’ll have some shots of rehearsals, then a triumphant opening- night scene, then trouble of some sort-alcohol or drugs or an awful man, then recovery and… well, you know the rest.”
“I’m not inclined toward addictions,” Carrie said, “and especially not to bad men. I’ve had one, and that was enough.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
Carrie stood up. “Let’s get out of here. I want to show you something.”
Stone followed her downstairs and into a cab, and she gave the driver an address in the West Fifties, between Fifth and Sixth avenues. Once there, they got out of the cab in front of an elegant building. Taking a key from her purse, she led him up the front steps, opened the front door, then another door.
Stone found himself standing in the large room that had, apparently, been the living room when the building had been a single-family house. It was empty of furniture, but it had recently been painted and seemed in very good condition.
“It’s a duplex,” Carrie said, pointing to a balcony at one end of the room. “The bedrooms are up there, and I signed the lease this afternoon.”
“That was quite a leap of faith,” Stone said. “Maybe you’d better slow down a little.”
“No need; I told you that I got a good divorce settlement and that my ex was a rich man then. I’ve been living downtown with a friend, and when I’ve furnished this place, it will be a good leading lady’s apartment. The lease is for two years, and after that I’ll buy something grander on the East Side.”
“A woman with a plan,” Stone said.
“I’ve learned to make my plans happen,” Carrie replied. “It’s something I’m really good at.”
“What other plans do you have?” Stone asked.
“If I had planned better, I would have had a bed delivered this afternoon,” she replied, standing on her tiptoes and kissing him. “I guess we’ll have to make do with one of your bedrooms.” She took his hand and trotted him out to the street and into another cab.
Stone did not offer any resistance.
5
STONE WOKE SLOWLY to the sound of Carrie on the phone, speaking quietly but urgently. She had been a transcendent lover the night before, and in the middle of the night, too, and he felt a little worn out.
Carrie finished her conversation and hung up. “Oh, you’re awake. Good morning. Your housekeeper made me tea and toast.” She began pulling on clothes. “I’ve got a dance class in half an hour, then I’m meeting my designer at the apartment. I’d like you to attend my three o’clock meeting with Mark Goodwin, if you’re available.”
Stone pressed the button on the remote control that raised his bed to a sitting position. “Good morning, Carrie,” he said. “I should tell you that I have no experience with theatrical work, so I’m not sure what use I’d be to you.”
“I just want you to represent me in dealing with Goodwin. I’m told he has a boilerplate client contract that isn’t entirely client-favorable, and I think I need some help with my negotiations with him.”
“Okay. What time?”
She handed him a slip of paper with the address. “Three o’clock. Be five minutes early, will you?” She bent over and kissed him. “You were just great last night; now I’ve gotta run.”
“You’re going to a dance class in an LBD?”
“I’ve got dance clothes in my locker at the studio. Bye-bye.” Then, with a wave, she fled downstairs.
Stone shaved and showered, got dressed, had some breakfast, and went down to his office. Once again, “Page Six” in the Post awaited him:
Last night at a black-tie dinner for fifty at the home of Broadway angels David and Shirley Medved, Carrie Cox, the new girl in town, continued her sweep through Broadway circles by signing with superagent Mark Goodwin on a handshake. We hear that, before the day is out, he’ll have her signed to her first major role.
My God, Stone thought. How does she do this? His phone rang. “Hello?”
“It’s Dino. You seen the Post?”
“Yeah, just now.”
“How does she do this?”
“I was just wondering the same thing. I was with her continuously from seven last evening until about an hour ago, and I never saw her make a phone call until this morning. She must be communicating psychically with ‘Page Six.’ ”
“Don’t get knocked down in the whirlwind.”
“I’ll try not to.”
“Dinner?”
“See you at eight thirty.”
“Are you bringing the girl?”
“I don’t know yet.” Stone hung up.
MARK GOODWIN’S SUITE of offices was upstairs over a big Broadway theater and reached by a tiny elevator. Carrie was sitting in his reception area, flipping through a fashion magazine.
“Oh, hi,” she said. She turned to the receptionist. “Now you can tell Mr. Goodwin we’re here.”
The woman spoke on the phone. “You can go right in,” she said.
Stone followed Carrie into a large office overlooking Schubert Alley. Mark Goodwin kissed Carrie, shook Stone’s hand, and waved them to a sitting area with a sofa and chairs.
“I had lunch with Del Wood,” he said. “My girl is typing up the contract now.”
“Contract?” Carrie asked.
“Two contracts, actually,” Goodwin replied. “One between you and Del and one between you and me.”
“Tell me about the one between Woodie and me.”
“Oh, we sorted things out over lunch and worked out what may be the best deal for a first-time starring role in the history of the Broadway theater.”
“Tell me about it,” Carrie said.
“It’s a one-year contract with an option for another three months. He wanted a run-of-the-play deal, but I nixed that; you may be getting even better offers after the West Coast crowd sees you onstage. Hollywood is going to be interested, I can promise you.” He ran through the salary and other conditions.
“That does sound good,” Carrie said.
“Listen, I already know Del ’s production costs, the number of seats in his theater, and the kind of money he’s paying the rest of the cast, some of whom are my clients; believe me, this is a good deal.”
“Wonderful,” she said. “Now tell me about my deal with you.”
A young woman walked into the office and handed him a file folder. “Here’s my standard client contract,” he said, handing her two sheets of paper, which she turned over to Stone without looking at them.
Stone read quickly through the agreement while Carrie and Goodwin sat silently, waiting. “Two things,” Stone
