Chapter 11

I reread Julie's play the next day, then put it aside for one more day, then read it a third time. My original opinion remained: it was a good play, a very good play. But it needed work.

I tried to call Julie a couple of times, but there was no answer. Either she was refusing to answer the phone or, what was more likely, had gone away for a few days, preferring to be alone while she straightened out her thoughts and feelings. As for myself, I wasn't at all sure how I felt. The night with Julie had been a good one, lots of fun and excitement. But underlying the sheer physical sensation, there had been an emotional reaction on my part-not that same night, but later on when I was sober and had let my mind go back to that night. I couldn't figure it out, couldn't understand my own feelings about Julie, and I finally made a concerted effort and put it out of my mind for a while.

There was the play to think of, and that had to take paramount importance in my mind.

I remembered Jason's words about hiring people with initiative to go ahead and get the job done without his constant supervision. He had also said he would get in touch with me later. With all this in mind, I decided to go ahead on my own.

I had several copies of the play typed up and added to each copy five pages of my own notes on changes I felt were necessary. I mailed one copy to Jason, along with an explanatory letter telling him what I had done. I mailed a second copy to Julie, and in my letter to her I asked her to get in touch with me as soon as possible so we could work on the play together. A third copy went to Carla-after I had first called her up.

I had not spoken to her since she had told me about Jason's visit with her, and both of us were a little cool over the phone. I did sense an undercurrent of warmth in Carla's voice, as though she wanted everything to be back the way it was. But that couldn't be, not right now, anyhow. I kept the call on a strictly friendly, business-like basis. Carla promised to read the script as soon as it arrived and to let me know if it met with her approval. We said good-bye, promising to keep in touch, and that was it.

After I had hung up the phone, I felt a vague sense of dissatisfaction. It had been good to hear Carla's voice again, and there were times during our friendly and business-like conversation that I wanted to break through our mutual reserve and talk about what really mattered to us. But I hadn't done that. Somehow I couldn't erase the memory of the last time I had spoken to Carla, of what she had told me, of the pictures of her and Jason that had flashed through my mind.

I sent the script to Carla air mail special delivery, and then sat back and waited for things to happen.

I didn't have long to wait.

Two days later a call came from Jason's secretary. Jason wanted me there right away. I told the secretary I was on my way, and hurried over.

I was a little out of breath when I got there, and I realized it was not from any physical exertion, but rather was from tenseness and worry at the prospect of the meeting with Jason. I stopped and deliberately took several deep breaths and paused to light a cigarette before I approached his secretary. I didn't like what was happening to me, this fear of Jason that had taken sudden hold of me. I would not let it happen again, I promised myself.

The secretary smiled politely when I gave my name, buzzed Jason on the intercom, and told me to go right in.

I pushed open the door of his office and was surprised to see the chair behind his desk empty.

"Over here, Phil," a voice called out.

I turned and saw Jason sitting on the big, ornate couch against the wall. Sitting with him was a blonde, who looked up at me with big, baby blue eyes.

"Hello, Jason," I said casually.

He nodded and got right to business, pointedly not bothering to introduce me to the blonde.

"I received the copy of the play," Jason said.

"Uh-huh," I answered. "What'd you think of the changes I suggested?"

He waved his hand airily and then let it drop casually to the blonde's knee. "The changes seem all right, Phil," he said, and he curled his fingers over the blonde's knee. She was small-petite would be the fashionable word-with a magnificent chest and perfectly-formed legs. She was wearing a tight dress, light red in color, and it had ridden up on her thighs so that Jason's hand now rested on the sheer nylon of her stocking. She looked a little flustered as Jason massaged her knee with me looking on. but she made no effort to remove his hand.

"I sent a copy of the script to Carla," I said, trying to keep my eyes from the blonde's legs. She was evidently embarrassed enough as it was with Jason feeling her up in front of me.

"Oh?" Jason said. "Have you heard from Carla yet?"

"Not yet. She'll let me know what she thinks of the play as soon as she reads it."

"That's very important, Phil," Jason said, his hand creeping up the blonde's leg. She instinctively tried to close her legs, but Jason's fingers were already caressing her legs, just above the knee, and she had no choice but to keep her legs that way. "Carla's approval of the script means everything, you know," Jason went on. "Without her, there's no point in producing the play. So, to put it bluntly, Phil, you're job depends on Carla."

I felt my face flush, and the blonde looked at me sympathetically, as though she understood what Jason was doing to me and felt sorry for me. Despite my earlier promise to myself not to be afraid of Jason any more, I felt a sudden chill race through me. It was a strange, mixed-up sensation. My face was hot with anger and embarrassment, while my body was cold with fear of what Jason could do to me. I wanted nothing more right then than to walk over to him and clip him one right in the face. But I knew I couldn't do it. Jason held my future in the palm of his hand, and I had to swallow whatever he dished out.

Jason smiled, his eyes mocking me, and I knew he was reading my thoughts. I stood silently before him, looking down at him, trying to fight down the conflicting anger and fear in me.

"Oh, by the way, Phil," Jason said with the air of a man just remembering something, "this is Iris Langford. Iris, Phil Devlin."

The blonde looked up at me and gave me a quick smile and said, "Hi!"

I nodded and mumbled a conventional "Please to meetcha," and then turned back to Jason.

"Iris is an actress," Jason said.

"Oh?"

Jason chuckled. "Let me amplify that statement a bit, Phil. Iris is at the same stage in her acting career as you are in your career as a director."

"I see," I said, ignoring the needling as best I could.

"I think Iris would be excellent in the role of the younger sister in the play," Jason said calmly.

I looked at Iris quickly, but she avoided my gaze, keeping her eyes on the floor.

"Are you hiring her for the part?" I asked Jason.

"Well, I'd like you to audition her first, PhD," Jason said casually. His meaning was clear. I'd better approve Iris-if I knew what was good for me. Well, I thought, at least he had shown good judgment in picking Julie's play. Maybe the same thing would hold true for Iris.

"Sure," I said. "Be glad to audition her. You want her to read for the part right now?"

Jason waved his hand. "I've already heard her read, Phil. You audition her yourself this afternoon."

I glanced at my watch. It was late in the day, after four o'clock. "I don't think we can get a rehearsal hall this time of day, Jason."

He waved his hand again, dismissing my remark. "Audition her wherever you like," he said. He patted her knee, gave it one final squeeze, and got to his feet. "You go with Phil," he said to Iris. "Now, both of you get out of here. I've got some work to do."

Iris looked at me questioningly, and after a moment's hesitation, I nodded my head and held out my hand and helped her to her feet. When she stood alongside me, she barely reached my shoulder. She was small, all right, but well-stacked. Her breasts jutted out sharply, her hips were beautifully rounded, and her legs were intriguingly curved. No doubt about it, she was quite a dish. She'd give Carla plenty of competition on the stage-if she could act as well as she looked.

I helped her on with her coat, and both of us turned to Jason. He ignored us completely, not even bothering to look up from behind his desk as he read through a pile of papers in front of him.

I shrugged my shoulders, took Iris by the arm, and we left the office.

We didn't talk at all until we were out on the sidewalk, then Iris looked up at me and said, "He's a pretty busy man, isn't he?"

I grunted.

"I hope it's not too much of an inconvenience for you to audition me," she said in a small voice.

"It's all right," I said. "I've got plenty of time right now."

"It's nice of you to say that, Mr. Devlin."

"Call me Phil."

"All right ... Phil."

"How about stopping for a drink, Iris?" I said suddenly. I needed a chance to think things over and decide what to do about the audition, and I was in no mood to stand out in the cold on the sidewalk while I thought.

"A drink?" She thought it over for a moment, then nodded her head. "All right. It'll give us a chance to talk, too."

I stepped off the curb and hailed a passing taxi. I gave the driver the address of a small cocktail lounge on the East Side, then settled back on the seat and took a pack of cigarettes from my pocket. I offered Iris one, and she shook her head quickly. "Thanks, Phil," she said with a brief smile, "but I don't smoke."

I shrugged and lit a cigarette for myself and looked at her as I exhaled a cloud of smoke.

She was staring out the window as the taxi made its way downtown. I got the feeling that she was doing this deliberately, giving me a chance to look her over without the awkwardness of meeting her eyes. She had a cute face-dp-tilted nose, big blue eyes, nicely arched eyebrows, a full mouth, and short, curly blonde hair. Her body, as I had seen in Jason's office, was a knockout. All in all, not too bad, I decided. If only she could act.

Iris turned from the window and gave me a tentative smile. I smiled back, but said nothing. We rode in silence the rest of the way.

Inside the cocktail lounge, I ordered drinks for both of us, lit another cigarette, and said, "Tell me about yourself."

"What do you want to know, Phil?"

"Your acting experience, your-"

"Just summer stock," she interrupted.

"How much of it?"

She shrugged lightly. "One season in Maine. It was ... a bit part."

I drew deeply on my cigarette and thought over what she had said. Her professional acting experience was sadly lacking, but there was still a chance. I'd be able to tell after she auditioned for me whether or not she could handle the part. If she could, that would be fine. If she couldn't I left the thought unfinished. The most I could do would be to tell Jason that Iris was not suitable. After that, the decision would be up to him.

Jason had the final say. He had the money. He controlled everything. I couldn't go against him.

"Well," I said, exhaling a cloud of smoke, "well talk more about your acting after the audition."

Iris nodded understandingly. Then she glanced up at me with an odd look in her blue eyes. "Where do you plan to hold the audition, Phil?" she asked in a very low voice.

I scratched at my chin. "I don't know," I admitted.

"We need a copy of the play," she said.

I hadn't though of that, I realized. Jason had a copy, but it wouldn't do to go back to his office for it. I could just picture our reception. He probably would refuse to see us. claiming he was busy. And then, even if he did see us, he would have a field day with me, making sarcastic remarks about what a lousy director I was not to think of needing a copy of the play before conducting an audition. Moreover, he had only one copy. It was likely that he would refuse to let me borrow it, perhaps claiming that he wanted to study it himself. It would be embarrassing, humiliating, and most likely completely futile to go back to Jason.

That left only one alternative.

The remaining copy of the play were in my apartment.

I cleared my throat and glanced at Iris. She was still regarding me with that odd look in her eyes.

"The only available copy of the play is in my apartment," I said.

Her eyes remained on me for a moment, then she glanced down at the table. When she looked up again, her face was impassive, emotionless.

"You'll audition me in your apartment?" she asked tonelessly. It was more a statement than it was a question.

"I can't think of any other place that's available right now," I said.

She looked away from me, and I felt a sudden spurt of anger. Hell, what did she think I had in mind? Did she think this was the old casting-couch approach? Many auditions were held in private apartments, or in offices or spare rooms. In any event, it wasn't at all unusual. Of course, most of the time several people would be present-the director, producer, writer-in addition to the person being auditioned. It just hadn't turned out that way in this case. I thought for a moment of stopping at my apartment, picking up a copy of the play, then going on to Julie's place and holding the audition there. But that would mean trying to call Julie again, and I'd had no luck with that so far. Besides, I wasn't too sure that Julie would even talk to me over the phone now, and I wasn't going to go through that embarrassment in front of Iris.

"We can hold the audition some other time if you'd rather," I said.

"Oh, no!" Iris answered quickly. "It's-it's perfectly all right."

"If you'd prefer to audition at your apartment.. I suggested.

"No. Your place will do just fine, Phil." She gave me a weak smile. "I've only got a furnished room that I share with another girl."

"Suit yourself," I said, and I finished my drink. "Care for another?"

"Yes, thanks." She said it quickly, gratefully, as though she felt a pressing need for another drink.

I ordered the drinks, and both of us were silent while we waited for them. Iris seemed to be lost in thought; her face was solemn and somewhat strained. Then, just after the drinks arrived, she apparently reached some kind of decision. She raised her glass, smiled broadly at me, and said, "Here's to ... to a successful audition, Phil."

"Let's hope so," I responded, and I clinked glasses with her.

We drank, set the glasses down-and then Iris started talking. It was all small talk, cheerful babbling about how anxious she was to succeed in the theater, how much she liked New York, how cold the weather was lately, what a nice cocktail lounge this was, did I come here often-all of this in a rushed, breathless voice. I made a few comments now and then, but took no active part in the conversation. It was evident that she was trying to be bright and cheerful and charming to me, and I sensed immediately that this had a lot to do with the coming audition. Perhaps she had already made up her mind that this was really the old casting-couch approach on my part, and had decided to give in. I wondered for a moment if I looked to her like a director who would do such a thing, but then dropped the thought. It didn't matter what impression she had of me. My intentions were to audition her-and that was all.

At least, that was what my intentions were at the moment.

As the afternoon wore on, we had a few more drinks. Iris kept on talking, and I kept on making polite comments now and then. She laughed heartily when I said something that was supposed to be funny, and she looked appropriately solemn and interested when I said something that was supposed to be profound. She was a good listener as well as a good talker.

But the question was-was she a good actress?

I'd find that out soon, I knew. I'd also find out just how far she was willing to go to get the part. Not that I intended making a pass at her, although I was now beginning to toy with the idea. It was just that, if she had decided to give in, she would more than likely invite a pass. If and when that happened, I wasn't too sure how I'd react. I'd had a few drinks by now, and while I wasn't drunk and certainly was not going to get drunk, I did feel a lot looser.

And I began to think, too.

I thought of Jason and the way he was taking such delight in rubbing my nose in the dirt. I thought of Carla and what she had done with Jason. I thought of Julie and how it had been in bed with her and what had happened the next morning. I thought of all of them and how my life was tied up with them and of how my life was now being twisted because of my relationship with each of them. I felt thwarted, surrounded, put upon, and I even felt a little sorry for myself. I had staked everything on this course of action, on using Jason and the chance he represented for me to direct a play. Everything depended on that.

Everything.

Iris had quieted down a little now, and I looked at her and said, "Well, I guess we'd better get started with your audition now."

She bit her lip, looked at me for a moment, then smiled. "Sure. Anything you say, Phil."

I called the waiter over, paid the check, and Iris and I left the cocktail lounge. It was dark out now, dark and wintry, the kind of an evening to be nice and snug and warm indoors.

"You want something to eat?" I asked Iris.

"I'm not very hungry right now, Phil. Are you?"

"Na Maybe we can fix some sandwiches and coffee at my place later."

Iris smiled. "That sounds fine, Phil."

She was very agreeable to all my suggestions now, I noticed. Merely by offering her sandwiches and coffee, I had changed what was originally strictly an audition into a social occasion Iris was evidently prepared to be as sociable as she had to.

I grunted and hailed a taxi and gave the driver my address. I rested my head on the back of the seat and closed my eyes while the taxi pulled out into traffic, and I was grateful for the fact that Iris had finally stopped talking.

I wanted to think.

I had a lot to think about.