He waited, glaring.
The red cat jumped off its crate and rubbed against his leg. He lifted the cat onthe toe of his shoe and gave him a toss, which was hateful of him except he seemednot aware of the cat but merely his own irritableness.
"But according to you, it already is."
"This is what she wants?" he said, flinging out his arms. "A lot of characters theyarent expected? Living off tips. Running around with bums. So maybe she couldmarry Rusty Trawler? You should pin a medal on her for that?"
She scooped up the cat and swung him onto her shoulder. He perched there withthe balance of a bird, his paws tangled in her hair as if it were knitting yarn; and yet,despite these amiable antics, it was a grim cat with a pirates cutthroat face; one eyewas gluey-blind, the other sparkled with dark deeds.
He expected recognition, and I didnt mind obliging him, it was all right by me,except Id never heard of O.J. Berman. It developed that he was a Hollywood actorsagent.
"Fred knows that already."
"Light me a cigarette, darling," she said, snatching off a bathing cap and shakingher hair. "I dont mean you, O.J. Youre such a slob. You always nigger-lip."
"But you dont."
"Sorry, I dont know him."
Gary Cooper. Jesus. I kill myself, its all set: theyre going to test her for the part ofDr. Wassells nurse. One of his nurses, anyway. Then wham! The phone rings." Hepicked a telephone out of the air and held it to his ear. "She says, this is Holly, I sayhoney, you sound far away, she says Im in New York, I say what the hell are youdoing in New York when its Sunday and you got the test tomorrow? She says Im inNew York cause Ive never been to New York. I say get your ass on a plane and getback here, she says I dont want it. I say whats your angle, doll? She says you gotto want it to be good and I dont want it, I say well, what the hell do you want, andshe says when I find out youll be the first to know. See what I mean: horseshit on aplatter."
"Remember," she said, leaving us, "Im his agent. Another thing: if I holler, comezipper me up. And if anybody knocks, let them in."
Could level with the kid before its too late."
"What scandals are you spreading, O.J.?" Holly splashed into the room, a towelmore or less wrapped round her and her wet feet dripping footmarks on the floor.
Even the famous one, the one can only speak German, boy, did he throw in thetowel. You cant talk her out of these" -- he made a fist, as though to crush anintangible -- "ideas. Try it sometime. Get her to tell you some of the stuff shebelieves. Mind you," he said, "I like the kid. Everybody does, but theres lots thatdont. I do. I sincerely like the kid. Im sensitive, thats why. Youve got to besensitive to appreciate her: a streak of the poet. But Ill tell you the truth. You canbeat your brains out for her, and shell hand you horseshit on a platter. To give anexample -- who is she like you see her today? Shes strictly a girl youll read whereshe ends up at the bottom of a bottle of Seconals. Ive seen it happen more timesthan youve got toes: and those kids, they werent even nuts. Shes nuts."
"Im the first one saw her. Out at Santa Anita. Shes hanging around the trackevery day. Im interested: professionally. I find out shes some jocks regular, shesliving with the shrimp. I get the jock told Drop It if he dont want conversation withthe vice boys: see, the kids fifteen. But stylish: shes okay, she comes across. Evenwhen shes wearing glasses this thick; even when she opens her mouth and youdont know if shes a hillbilly or an Okie or what. I still dont. My guess, nobodyllever know where she came from. Shes such a goddamn liar, maybe she dont knowherself any more. But it took us a year to smooth out that accent. How we did itfinally, we gave her French lessons: after she could imitate French, it wasnt so longshe could imitate English. We modeled her along the Margaret Sullavan type, but shecould pitch some curves of her own, people were interested, big ones, and to top itall, Benny Polan, a respected guy, Benny wants to marry her. An agent could ask formore? Then wham! The Story of Dr. Wassell. You see that picture? Cecil B. DeMille.
"Just the usual. That youre nuts.
"Its not a joke, darling. I want you to call him up and tell him what a genius Fredis. Hes written barrels of the most marvelous stories. Well, dont blush, Fred: youdidnt say you were a genius, I did. Come on, O.J. What are you going to do to makeFred rich?"
"O.J. is a slob," she told me, taking the cigarette Id lighted. "But he does know aterrific lot of phone numbers. Whats David O. Selznicks number, O.J.?"
"If you mean future, youre wrong again. Now a couple of years back, out on theCoast, there was a time it couldve been different. She had something working forher, she had them interested, she couldve really rolled. But when you walk out on athing like that, you dont walk back. Ask Luise Rainer. And Rainer was a star. Sure,Holly was no star; she never got out of the still department. But that was before TheStory of Dr. Wassell. Then she couldve really rolled. I know, see, cause Im the guywas giving her the push." He pointed his cigar at himself. "O.J. Berman."
"Suppose you let me settle that with Fred."
"But young. And with a great deal of youth ahead of her."
He blew a smoke ring, let it fade before he smiled; the smile altered his face,made something gentle happen. "I could get it rolling again. Like I told you," he said,and now it sounded true, "I sincerely like the kid."
"Lay off."
"You dont know Rusty Trawler, you cant know much about the kid. Bad deal," hesaid, his tongue clucking in his huge head. "I was hoping you maybe had influence.
