“See, Joey’s trying to whack her; we’re trying to protect her; Merolla and Hathaway are trying to use her…”
“Can you deliver her?” Bascaglia asked.
I hope so, Joe thought.
“We have influence,” he said. “With the right deal-”
“Yes or no, Mr. Graham.”
This in a voice telling me that I deliver her to a deal or you deliver her to a morgue, and somehow I don’t see Neal standing by waving ole to a hit on this woman.
“Yes,” Graham said. “But-”
“No buts.”
“But I need an absolute guarantee of a truce while we negotiate,” Graham insisted. “You have to put Joey Beans on a short leash… sir.”
“I think you made that point to him already,” Bascaglia said. “You’ll be our guest in New Orleans during the negotiations. My secretary will make hotel reservations for you and you’ll have an office in this building during the day. I’ll have her contact your Mr. Kitteredge to get started.”
“Mr. Bascaglia, with all due respect, I think we better get started right now,” Graham said. “This is one of those things that gets hotter the longer it goes.”
“Oh?”
“Mr. Kitteredge is standing by on his phone,” Graham said.
Bascaglia actually smiled.
“You’re an extraordinary man, Mr. Graham,” he said.
“You’re the extraordinary man. I’m a working stiff.”
“If you ever want to work for me, I’ll have a job for you,” Bascaglia said. He took a piece of paper from the left pile, glanced at it, initialed it, and set it on the right pile. Then he picked up the phone.
Nothing, Graham thought, better go wrong with this deal.
23
“No,” Polly said.
“What do you mean, no?” Neal asked.
“You know-no. N-O,” Polly insisted. She sat on the bed in Neal’s room, looking defensive and hostile. Neal sat on the bed beside her, Candy watched from a chair, and Karen stood beside the television set, on which Jack and Candy were hawking time-shares at Candyland. “No means no.”
“Isn’t that where this whole thing started?” Karen asked.
“Right?” Polly asked.
Candy nodded vigorously.
“If the NOW meeting is over…” Neal said.
“What’s NOW?” asked Polly.
“The National Organization of Women,” Karen explained.
Polly said, “That’s a good idea.”
“You ain’t kidding.”
The exchange stopped at the sound of Neal’s head rhythmically smacking into his hands.
“Polly,” Neal said. “Two million dollars. Two… million… dollars.”
All in all, Neal thought, it’s a good settlement, hammered out over a long night. Polly would get the $2 million in exchange for dropping the suit. Neither she nor Jack would discuss the affair, the paternity, or the alleged rape with the press.
On the business level, Jack would sell enough shares at fair market price to give Peter Hathaway majority ownership, but Jack and Candy would own their show and sell it to FCN at top dollar.
As for Candyland, Hathaway would agree to let the project continue. Foglio would retain his contracts but perform real work at reasonable costs. He would also acquire certain maintenance contracts on the same terms. Kitteredge and Bascaglia would appoint a mutually agreeable comptroller to monitor costs.
It was a good settlement and Neal could see Kitteredge’s careful fingerprints all over it.
“All you talk about is money,” Polly said.
“You launched a civil suit,” Neal reminded her.
“Because he should pay for what he did,” Polly argued.
“Two million freaking dollars!” Neal said. “And he loses control of his company! That’s paying!”
Polly chewed on her bottom lip and thought.
Please take it, Neal thought. So I can go back to my life. So Carmine Bascaglia doesn’t kill us all.
His eyes caught Candy’s.
He wondered what she could be thinking, having okayed a deal that would send her back to her scummy husband for two years. She was apparently willing to trade two years of misery to save her life’s work. Such are life’s bargains.
He didn’t have to wonder what Karen was thinking. She reminded him at every private moment. She was pissed off. She thought the whole thing stank. She was a cowgirl who thought they should just shoot it out, in the courtroom or wherever, and take their chances. He loved her madly, but she just didn’t realize that they didn’t have a chance against Bascaglia.
Polly seemed to be wavering.
“I’ll try to get two-five,” Neal said, hoping to push her over the edge.
Karen grunted in disgust.
“I’ll take it,” Polly said.
Thank you, God.
“If he says he raped me.”
Thanks, God. Thanks a lot.
Karen applauded.
“Good for you,” she said.
“Polly,” Neal started again, “if he admits he raped you, ‘The Jack and Candy Family Hour’ will fall off the charts. The network will lose millions of dollars and Candyland will never be built. There won’t be enough money to finance the deal. Jack might as well take his chances in front of a jury.”
And we can take our chances in front of a firing squad.
“That’s fine with me,” Polly said. “That’s what I wanted in the first place. That’s what you were supposed to be helping me with, wasn’t it?”
“We didn’t know the mob was involved,” Neal said.
“So the mob is involved, that makes it okay to rape me?”
“And keep raping her?” Karen asked.
That’s a damn good point, Neal thought.
“This is not the time for tired feminist cant,” he said. “The point is-”
“Oh, goodie,” Karen said. “Neal’s going to tell us what the point is.”
“The point is that we can talk right and wrong, fair and unfair until the sun goes down, but at the end of the day we have to look at what is possible,” Neal said. “This is about the best deal we’re going to get.”
“What do you think?” Polly asked Candy.
Swell, Neal thought. First she’s boffing her husband, now she thinks the woman is her big sister.
“I’m not the one who was raped,” Candy said.
“I don’t know about that,” said Karen.
“Will you stop?” Neal asked her.
Karen shrugged.
“I don’t know,” said Candy. She watched herself whip up a low-fat noncholesterol ‘His First Night Home from the Hospital Dinner’ while Jack made funny faces to the camera. “I’m kind of tired of cooking for the son of a bitch.”
