Hotel lounge. I was so shocked by his physical appearance that at first I didn’t notice he had Charlie Brown with him. Osano must have put on about thirty pounds, and he had a huge gut that bulged out of an old tennis jacket. His face was bloated, it was speckled with tiny white fat dots. The green eyes that had once been so brilliant had faded into pale colorlessness that looked gray, and as he walked toward me, I could see that the curious lurch in his gait had become worse.
We had drinks in the Polo Lounge. As usual, Charlie drew the eyes of all the men in the room. This was not only because of her beauty and her innocent face. There were plenty of those in Beverly Hills, but there was something in her dress, something in the way she walked and glanced around the room that signaled an easy availability.
Osano said, “I look terrible, don’t I?”
“I’ve seen you worse,” I said.
“Hell, I’ve seen myself worse,” Osano said. “You, you lucky bastard, can eat anything you want and you never put on an ounce.”
“But I’m not as good as Charlie,” I said. And I smiled at her and she smiled back.
Osano said, “We’re catching the afternoon plane. Eddie Lancer thought he could fix me up with a script job, but it fell through, so I might as well get the hell out of here. I think I’ll go to a fat farm, get in shape and finish my novel.”
“How’s the novel coming?” I asked.
“Great,” Osano said. “I got over two thousand pages, just five hundred more to go.”
I didn’t know what to say to him. By this time he had acquired a reputation for not delivering with magazine publishers, even on his nonfiction books. His novel was his last hope.
“You should just concentrate on the five hundred pages,” I said, “and get the goddamn book finished. That will solve all your troubles.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Osano said. “But I can’t rush it. Even my publisher wouldn’t want me to do that. This is the Nobel Prize for me, kid, when this is finished.”
I looked at Charlie Brown to see if she was impressed, and it struck me that she didn’t even know what the Nobel Prize Was.
“You’re lucky to have such a publisher,” I told Osano. “They’ve been waiting ten years for that book.”
Osano laughed. “Yeah, the classiest publishers in America. They’ve given me over a hundred grand and they haven’t seen a page. Real class, not like these fucking movie people.”
“I’ll be leaving for New York in a week,” I said. “I’ll call you for dinner there. What’s your new phone number?”
Osano said, “It’s the same one.”
I said, “I’ve called there and nobody ever answered.”
“Yeah,” Osano said. “I’ve been down in Mexico working on my book, eating those beans and tacos. That’s why I got so goddamn heavy. Charlie Brown here, she didn’t put on an ounce and she ate ten times as much as I did.” He patted Charlie Brown on the shoulder, squeezing her flesh. “Charlie Brown,” he said, “if you die before me, I’m going to have them dissect your body and find out what you got that keeps you skinny.”
She smiled back at him. “That reminds me, I’m hungry,” she said.
So just to cheer things up I ordered lunch for us. I had a plain salad and Osano had an omelet and Charlie Brown ordered a hamburger with french fried potatoes, a steak with vegetables, a salad and a three-scoop ice- cream desert on top of apple pie. Osano and myself enjoyed the people watching Charlie eat. They couldn’t believe it. A couple of men in the next booth made audible comments, hoping to draw us into a conversation so they would have an excuse to talk to Charlie. But Osano and Charlie ignored them.
I paid the tab, and when I left, I promised to call Osano when I got to New York.
Osano said, “That would be great. I’ve agreed to talk in front of that Women’s Lib convention next month, and I’ll need some moral support from you, Merlyn. How about if we have dinner that night and then go on to the convention?”
I was a little doubtful. I wasn’t really interested in any kind of convention, and I was a little worried about Osano’s getting into trouble and I’d have to bail him out again. But I said OK, that I would.
Neither one of us had mentioned Janelle. I couldn’t resist saying to Osano, “Have you seen Janelle in town?”
“No,” Osano said, “have you?”
“I haven’t seen her for a long time,” I said.
Osano stared at me. The eyes for just one second became their usual sneaky pale green. He smiled a little sadly. “You should never let a girl like that go,” he said. “You just get one of them in a lifetime. Just like you get one big book in your lifetime.”
I shrugged and we shook hands again. I kissed Charlie on the cheek and then I left.
That afternoon I had a story conference at Tri-Culture Studios. It was with Jeff Wagon, Eddie Lancer, and the director, Simon Bellfort. I had always thought the Hollywood legends of a writer being rude to his director and producer in a story conference were shitty no matter how funny. But for the first time, at this story conference, I could see why such things had happened. In effect, Jeff Wagon and his director were ordering us to write their story, not my novel. I let Eddie Lancer do most of the arguing, and finally Eddie, exasperated, said to Jeff Wagon, “Look, I’m not saying I’m smarter than you, I’m just saying I’m luckier. I’ve written four hit pictures in a row. Why not ride with my judgment?”
To me this seemed like a superbly clever argument, but Jeff Wagon and the director had puzzled looks on their faces. They didn’t know what Eddie was talking about, and I could see there was no way to change their minds.
Finally Eddie Lancer said, “I’m sorry, but if that’s the way you guys want to go, I have to leave this picture.”
“OK,” Jeff said. “How about you, Merlyn?”
“I don’t see any point in my writing it your way,” I said. “I don’t think I’d do a good job with it.”
“That’s fair enough,” Jeff Wagon said. “I’m sorry. Now is there any writer you know that could work on this picture with us and could have some consultations with you guys since you already have done most of the work? It would be very helpful?”
The thought flashed through my mind that I could get Osano this job. I knew he needed the money desperately and I knew that if I said I would work with Osano he would get the assignment. But then I thought of Osano in a story conference like this taking directions from men like Jeff Wagon and the director. Osano was still one of the great men in American literature, and I thought these guys would humiliate him and then fire him. So I didn’t speak up.
It was only when trying to go to sleep that I realized maybe I had denied Osano the job to punish him for sleeping with Janelle.
The next morning I got a call from Eddie Lancer. He told me that he had had a meeting with his agent and his agent said that Tri-Culture Studios and Jeff Wagon were offering him a fifty-thousand-dollar extra fee to stay on the picture, and what did I think?
I told Eddie that it was perfectly OK with me, whatever he did, but that I wasn’t going back on. Eddie tried to persuade me. “I’ll tell them I won’t go back unless they take you back and pay you twenty-five thousand dollars,” Eddie Lancer said. “I’m sure they’ll go for it.”
Again I thought of helping Osano, and again I just couldn’t do it. Eddie was going on, “My agent told me if I didn’t go back on this picture, the studio would put more writers on and then try to get the new writers the credit on the picture. Now, if we don’t get script credit, we lose our Writers Guild contract and TV gross points when the picture is sold to television. Also, we both have some net points which we will probably never see. But it’s just an off chance the picture may be a big hit, and then we’ll be kicking our asses in. It could wind up to be a sizable chunk of dough, Merlyn, but I won’t go back on it if you think we should stick together and try to save our story.”
“I don’t give a shit about the percentage,” I said, “or the credits, and as far as the story goes, what the fuck kind of story it is? It’s schlock, it’s not my book anymore. But you go ahead. I really don’t care. I mean that.”
“OK,” Eddie said, “and while I’m on, I’ll try to protect your credit as much as I can. I’ll call you when I’m in New York and we’ll have dinner.”
