Chapter 5

The feeling or disgust gradually lessened, and it was almost all gone a week later when Jason called me into his office and offered me five hundred a week. I snapped it up.

There was no contract. Jason told me that he was the kind of man who put great value in a handshake and a promise. He shook hands with me and promised me five hundred dollars a week, and I, in return, promised him that I wouldn't let someone else grab me away from him as a director. He also promised that as soon as the theater was built and Carla had accepted the leading part in the first play, he would give me a regular contract at double the salary he was now offering me.

I would, of course, have preferred having a contract with him right from the start, but I decided against insisting on it. Jason was no fool. He might be nuts over Carla and get stars in his eyes and ants in his pants every time he looked at her, but he was no fool when it came to business. He explained to me that since everything was now just in the planning stage, he saw no need for a contract. He would stick to his word, and he expected me to stick to mine. In other words, I would earn my five hundred by helping him select the opening play for the new theater and by convincing Carla to accept the starring role. Once that was done, then I would get my contract.

I could see that Jason was very wisely leaving himself an out. If I couldn't get Carla for him, then he would have no more use for me, and he wouldn't be bound by any contract.

It was up to me now to show him that I was as good as Carla had intimated I was. It hadn't turned out exactly as I had hoped it would, but five hundred a week was too good to turn down. If I could string Jason along long enough, I'd be able to sock away some money and would also be able to work some future angles, using my connection with him and his new theater as a selling point for some other job. After all, since the agreement between Jason and myself was strictly verbal, I could make up almost any story I wished once the connection with him was broken. I could, I knew, say that Jason and I had had a disagreement over the play or the interpretation of the leading part, or I could say that Jason interfered too much with my work-there were dozens of stories I could invent. Jason would deny every thing of course, but it wouldn't have much affect. In the theater, people are used to clashes of temperament and name-calling and accusations and denials. The mere fact that I had been employed by Jason to direct the first play would be enough to bring me some offers after he and I had parted company. And that was all I wanted-a chance to get started building a reputation.

So Jason and I shook hands, and I had to keep back a smile when he made me promise I wouldn't sign a contract with anyone else without giving him a chance to better their offer. This showed me that although Jason was playing it smart by not offering me a contract, he nevertheless had fallen for Carla's line about me being a good director.

I called Carla that same night. I had her private number, and I waited until late in the evening, New York time, when I knew she would be home.

"Phil!" she squealed when she heard my voice. "I was beginning to think you'd never call me."

"I wanted to wait until I had some news," I said.

"What is it?" she asked excitedly.

I told her about my meeting with Jason and the agreement we had reached.

She was silent for a while, then she said, "That sounds fine, Phil."

"You don't seem very enthusiastic," I said. "I realize that, to you, five hundred a week isn't very much, but-"

"It's not the money, Phil."

"Then what is it?"

"It's just ... well, the whole deal sounds a little shaky to me."

"Shaky?"

"Yes. You don't have a contract, for one thing. For another, Jason can fire you the minute he finds out we've been leading him on."

"Leave that to me," I said abruptly.

"All right, Phil. I-I didn't mean to sound so discouraging."

"Forget it," I said. "I'll handle Jason."

There was a moment of quiet, then she said, "I wish you could be here with me now, Phil."

"Me too," I answered.

She sighed. "I suppose you've read about me in the gossip columns since I got back?"

I smiled thinly. "You mean about you and the producer?"

"Yes."

"I wasn't going to mention that," I said. "Why not, Phil?"

"I figured you didn't want to talk about it," I said, telling her the truth. Less than three days after she had returned to Hollywood, the Hollywood columnists had reported rumors that Carla was carrying on with a big producer. First the director, and now the producer.

"Why shouldn't I want to talk about it, Phil? I'm not ashamed of what I'm doing."

I was about to ask her why, then, she had brought up the subject herself-but I decided not to say that. It was obvious that Carla felt just a little troubled and was trying to get some reassurance from me that I knew she was doing only what she had to do to get ahead.

"Well," I said casually, "I don't mind talking about it, either." I chuckled. "It seems Like you've got your hands full now, Carla."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you want to hang on to the director, I'm sure. But how are you going to keep the director and still get the producer? You know, your director friend may have promised to direct your next picture, but isn't he likely to break that promise now?"

"Not if I handle things right, Phil." She paused, then went on. "I need the producer, too. It's not easy keeping both of them on a string, but I'm managing okay so far. I've had to do something like this before, so I'm not exactly without experience."

"Well, good luck with it," I said, trying to inject a light, cheerful note into my voice, just as though the whole thing didn't really matter.

"Don't believe everything those gossip columnists write about me Phil."

"I never do, Carla."

"Some of them can get pretty nasty, you know, and ... well, I didn't want you to take it too seriously."

"I won't."

"They-they make me seem like a terrible woman, Phil," she said with a slight break in her voice.

"I know you better than that, Carla," I said softly.

I heard her let out her breath, and I knew I had said what she wanted to hear.

"Thanks, Phil."

"You're still my girl," I said reassuringly. "I'd better be," she said, laughing, and I knew that everything was all right now. "I'll call you again," I said. "Make it soon."

"I will."

"'Bye," Phil." There was the sound of kiss over the phone.

"'Bye," I said, and I hung up the phone.

I lit a cigarette and stared at the phone for a long while. Carla's words had been very revealing. She was troubled. She had been cutting corners and using people for so long now that it had finally caught up with her. I knew without any doubt that she would handle both the director and the producer in such a way that she wouldn't lose either one of them. But her actions were taking their toll on her now, filling her with self-doubt, making her wonder what people would think of her, making her seek reassurance from me that I didn't think badly of her for what she was doing to further her career.

Would it be that way with me? I wondered.

Would I, too, begin to doubt myself after a while? Would I become concerned about what people would think of me? Would I have to pay the same price as Carla?

They were questions I couldn't answer.