“It’s not Susan, is it? You’re just jealous.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “See, once, on a warm night in a strange city with music drifting downthat’s fun. Or it was for me. But a live-in arrangement-`house privileges,‘ I think you called it-when you apologize for being”-I made a word-groping gesture with my hands-“inattentive-that’s unfaithfulness.”
“I think it’s nothing that noble,” Candy said. “You’re no different that all the others. You’re jealous. You can’t stand sharing me with Peter.”
“If that were true,” I said, “what better reason to sleep on the couch. If we’ve gone to a point where I’m jealous of you, then I am cheating. I don’t want to be jealous of anyone but Suze. I shouldn’t be.”
Candy shook her head. “That’s crap,” she said. “You insist on making everything sound fancy. Always guff about honor and being faithful and not being ashamed. Everything you do becomes some kind of goddamn quest for the Holy Grail. It’s just selfdramatization. Self-dramatization so you don’t have to face up to how shabby your life is, and pointless.”
“Well, there’s that,” I said.
“And goddammit, don’t patronize me. When I score a point, you ought to be man enough to admit it.”
“Person enough,” I said. “Don’t be sexist.”
“So you’ve decided just to joke about it. You know you can’t win the argument, so you make fun.”
“Candy, I am a long way past the point where I see the world in terms of debating points. I don’t care if I win or lose arguments. Sleeping with you again would be cheating on Susan, at least by my definition, and by hers. That’s sufficient. You’re just as desirable as you ever were. And I’m just as randy. But I am stern of will. So lemme sleep on the couch and stop being offended.”
“You self-sufficient bastard,” she said.
“Yes,” I said.
“But you’ll help me tomorrow?”
“Yes,” I said.
Chapter 24
I WENT WITH Candy to the studio in the morning. She drove. I looked around.
“I am going to stay as close as I can,” I said. “Even if I’m spotted, it’s better than you getting burned.”
“You really think there’s that kind of danger?”
“You betcha,” I said. “Brewster may remember what he told you and if he does, you’re a real threat to him.”
“But he thinks I’m in love with him.”
“After five days?” I said.
“He thinks everyone is in love with him anyway. He assumes conquest.”
“I’ll accept that,” I said. “And I’m willing to concede that Brewster’s not very smart. Tycoons often aren’t, I’ve found. But they are also rarely sentimental. Even if he thinks you are permanently smitten with his wonderful self, what’s he lose by having you shot?”
“Thanks a lot.”
“It’s not denigrating you. It’s denigrating him. He doesn’t cherish you. He doesn’t cherish anything. He can replace you with some worshipful starlet later this evening if he needs to. He wouldn’t differentiate.” Candy was quiet.
“Think about it. What does he want from you?”
“Sex.”
“Yeah, and what else?”
“Admiration. He wants me to tell him how masterful he is. He wants me to go ooh at how much money and clout and perception he has.”
“And if he didn’t have you to do that, what?”
“He’d get someone else.”
“Is it your brains and wit and strength he needs?”
“No.”
We pulled into the parking lot behind the station. “So what is it you give him?”
“I look good in public,” Candy said. “I do good in bed. And I hang on his every word.”
“How many other women in Hollywood could fill that role?”
“A trillion,” Candy said.
“So be careful,” I said. “And don’t get into places I can’t follow.”
Candy nodded and we went into the studio.
There was a staff meeting scheduled for much of the morning, and I left Candy to deal with that. It was probably as deadly in its way as Brewster, but it wasn’t the kind of deadliness I could ameliorate.
