No debris in the street. Doormen walking dogs. The bar at The Drake, with silver dishes of nuts. A country so rich it didn’t even know its own luck. Where anyone could be happy.
At the station, busy with redcaps pushing luggage carts, he saw flashbulbs near the Chief. Not Lasner this time, real stars. Paulette Goddard. Carole Landis. Two girls he didn’t recognize. All of them smiling, holding up a bond drive poster as they perched on the compartment car steps. Other passengers stopped to watch. You’ll never guess who was on the train.
They left at seven fifteen exactly, sliding out so smoothly that it wasn’t until they began clicking over the points in the yard that Ben looked up to see they were moving. Past sidetracked box cars, then clotheslines and coal sheds and scrap metal yards, the backside of the city, until finally the open country of the prairie. Another day before they saw mountains. Los Angeles Monday morning, half a continent in under forty hours. He opened his bag to change. People dressed up for dinner on the Chief. A wash, a drink in the club car. He looked out again at the late summer’s light on the unbroken fields, a pale gold. Farther away from the newsreel with every mile. And then, not paying attention, he nicked his finger on his razor and watched, dismayed, as blood welled out of the cut. Had there been blood? She hadn’t said. A pool spreading under his head? Where had he fallen? But there must have been blood. There always was.
They were three deep at the bar in the club car, talking over each other, a party roar of indistinct voices and ice tinkling against glass. Just a few uniforms, officers with their own money. One of the starlets he’d seen on the platform, lipstick refreshed, was taking a light from a man she’d obviously just met, all eyes and what-are-my-odds. The way every trip should begin, Ben thought, the air bubbling like the tonic in his drink.
“So what happened to you?”
Ben turned to the finger poking at his shoulder.
“I thought you were coming up. Talk some more.”
Lasner had changed suits but seemed to have kept the same cigar, now just a stub between his fingers. He was with a young man whose eyes darted around the car, a quick sweep, before they settled on Ben. He stuck out his hand.
“Lou Katz. Morris Agency.”
“Lou works with Abe Lastfogel,” Lasner explained.
“I’m his number two,” Katz said, evidently a point. “You’re with Continental?”
“The Army,” Lasner said. “He’s making pictures for the Army.”
“Oh,” Katz said, his eyes beginning to move away. “You know who this is?” Lasner said. “Otto Kohler’s kid.”
“Really,” Katz said uneasily, not sure he could admit the name meant nothing.
“The director,” Lasner said. “Silents.”
“Right, silents,” Katz said, relieved. “Let me get us some drinks. You’re fine?” He nodded at Ben’s hand and without waiting for an answer headed into the bar crowd.
“Watch this,” Lasner said. “You want a drink right away, always travel with the Morris office.”
“Sorry about today. I thought you’d be busy.”
“So come now.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ve got the eight seating. It’ll be a help to me. You have dinner with Katz, you always feel a hand in your pocket. Look at this, what did I tell you?”
Katz was slipping through the crowd, drinks in hand.
“Looks like a full train,” he said. “You see Julie Sherman over there?” He nodded toward the starlet from the bond drive. “You know Fox isn’t picking up her option.”
“Lou, don’t peddle,” Lasner said. “Anyway, what would I do with her?”
“Nobody ever lost money showing tits. Your health,” he said, raising his glass.
“Then what happened at Fox?”
“Too much like Tierney. Who needs two? She should be somewhere they work with the talent. You know she can sing? Test her. See what she can do. You can’t run a studio on loan-outs.”
“How many times, Lou? Contract talent’s okay for the programmers. That’s your base,” he said, demonstrating with his hands. “Up here you don’t want to carry around that kind of expense. You get top-heavy. For A pictures, buy what you need. How many A’s do I make? Sell her to Metro, they can afford it.”
Katz shook his head. “You got it backwards. You should do the loan-outs. Look at Selznick-he’s living on his contract list. Every time he loans out Bergman, he’s making what? A couple of hundred?”
“There’s a name for that.”
“Producer.”
“Producer. What’s he doing now, some farkakte Western with that girl played the saint? One picture. You know how many pictures Continental’s releasing this year?”
“That’s my point. You’re not a small studio anymore. People should be coming to you for the talent.”
Lasner held up his hand. “You got something going with her, is that what?”
“Just ten percent.”
“Do you believe this guy?” Lasner said to Ben. “She’s gone down on half the Fox lot and with him it’s still business.”
“You’ve got her wrong. She can sing.”
“You remind me of Gus Adler. The way he was with Rosemary. All he could talk about. Test her, test her.”
“And you did. And signed her,” Katz said smiling, sending a ball over the net.
Lasner shrugged. “All right. Set it up with Bunny. Then we’ll see.” Katz started to speak, but Lasner stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Now take a step back. You push too hard, you knock people over. Learn from Abe. You know what he decided? Act like a gentleman, people always take your calls. There are ways to do things.”
“Jesus, Sol. I was just trying to say thank you.”
There was a stirring in the car, a shift in the air, as if someone were holding a door open. Paulette Goddard was walking toward them, people pretending not to notice as they let her pass. The bond drive dress was gone, traded up for a dark silk top that glittered with sequins, almost as bright as the diamond earrings setting off her face. It wasn’t just being beautiful, Ben thought, amused-she seemed to have brought her own lighting with her, a spot following her through the car.
“Sol, I had no idea you were on the train,” she said, kissing him, the air denser now with perfume.
“You look like a million,” he said fondly.
“I should,” she said, holding up her wrist to show off a strand of diamonds. “You like?”
“If I don’t have to pay for it. What is it, from Charlie?”
“Are you kidding? He still has the first dollar. Well, from him in a way. The settlement.” She laughed, an infectious giggle. “Imagine his face.”
“So everything’s friendly?” Lasner said, a concerned relative.
“Darling, it was ages ago. You know Charlie. He’s wonderful. He’s just impossible to live with.”
“You two go way back,” Lasner said.
“Not that far, Sol,” she said, laughing again, then turned to Katz. “Hi, Lou. How’s Abe?”
“Busy,” he said, almost blushing, grateful to be recognized. Ben smiled to himself. No one was immune to stardust, not even those who lived on it. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Can’t. Date with the Major. To celebrate the end of the drive. Sol, would you believe it, we set a record? And it was just me and Carole and a few other girls.”
“Julie Sherman,” Katz said, getting the name in.
“Yes, Julie.” She had turned her head to him and now took in Ben, her smile as bright as the bracelet. “I’m sorry-”
“Ben Kohler,” Lasner said, the way he now remembered it. “Otto Kohler’s boy.” Ben could tell from the fixed smile that the name meant as little to her as it had to Katz. “He makes pictures for the Army.”
“Really?” A glance to the other wrist, another flash of diamonds. “God, look at the time. I’ll call Fay.” Evidently Mrs. Lasner. “We don’t start shooting for another week.” She looked up at him, suddenly serious. “Milland. What do you think?”
“You’ll make him look good,” Lasner said, then leaned over and kissed her forehead.
“Liar,” she said, smiling. “Love to Fay. If you want to buy a bond I’m in car twenty-two. At least I think it’s
