“And what was all that about the screen test?”

“Have youseen the test?”

“Yes. I found it excruciating.”

She laughed. “I saw it in a room with a dozen secretaries who’d heard about it, and there was a heavy scent of vaginal juices in the air.”

“Stop it!” he groaned.

“I believe you really are embarrassed,” she said, surprised.

“The whole thing is humiliating.”

“Forgive me; I’m accustomed to actors, any one of whom would have understood immediately what that test meant to his future in this town.”

“I don’t have a future in this town.”

“You do if you want it.”

“That’s what Fred Swims said,” Stone replied disconsolately.

“Come on, Stone, cheer up! It’s not as though you’re being tarred and feathered and ridden out of town on a rail. You’re having a moment in the limelight; enjoy it! Most men would be jumping up and down with glee!”

Stone laughed. “I suppose you’re right, but it’s a lot more than I’m accustomed to. I’m a bit at sea.”

She put a hand on his cheek. “What is it, baby?” she asked as if talking to a small child.

“Well, the test is pretty strange,” he said. “Then there’s the party tonight.”

“What about the party?”

“Look, I’m in town for hardly more than twenty-four hours, and I get a screen test and a part in a movie for very nice money. Then an agent-apparently a top one-wants to represent me, and then…” He stopped himself.

“Go on.”

“Here we get into a confidential area.”

“Most of my job is keeping Vance’s secrets; I suppose I can keep yours, too.”

“What do you know about David Sturmack?”

She shrugged. “He’s very important in these parts-behind the scenes, mostly.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, you never see anything in the trades about how Sturmack made this deal or even made a movie, but you hear stories…”

“What sort of stories?”

“Did you see Vance’s movieParting Time?”

“Yes, a long time ago.”

“Vance wasn’t supposed to be in that movie; he was under contract to another big studio, and they wouldn’t release him. Story is, Sturmack made one phone call and ten minutes later, Vance was inParting Time. It got him his first Academy Award, and the picture did half a billion dollars worldwide. A lot of informed opinion says that the picture would have tanked without Vance. So you see the kind of power that Sturmack can wield in a single phone call.”

“How did he come by all this power?”

“He had something to do with the unions.”

“What unions?”

“The craft unions, the ones that have all the technicians in the business as members. He got a reputation early on for solving the most difficult contract negotiations-he represented at least two of the unions, I forget which ones. That’s really about all I know about him, except that he and Vance are very close. I can tell better than anybody who Vance is really close to by the way he responds to their telephone calls. He dropseverything when Dave Sturmack calls. The only other person who gets that kind of attention from Vance is Lou Regenstein. And right now, you.”

“Me?”

“You’re on the hot list right now.”

“You mean, for the moment.”

“Nobody stays on Vance’s hot list forever, but right now, you’re up there.” She frowned. “Why is that, Stone?”

“Beats me,” Stone replied.

“Yeah, sure. I know it’s something to do with Arrington, but I can’t figure out what.”

“I haven’t spoken to Arrington for months.” Not many months, he thought, but months.

“You’re not going to tell me, huh?”

He shrugged. “I’m a lawyer, Betty; some things have to remain…”

She patted his hand. “I understand. I operate under pretty much the same strictures. When you work for somebody like Vance, confidentiality is currency. If Vance suddenly clutched his chest and turned blue, half the town would be trying to hire me before the paramedics arrived. But if I talked out of turn about Vance…”

“I understand,” he said.

“Then we both understand.” She smiled. It was sowthing she did well.

“Will you give me some advice?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“Should I actually do this part in the movie?”

She placed a hand on her chest. “Good God! If you don’t, Lou Regenstein will have a stroke. Mind you, he strokes very quietly: he’ll lift an eyebrow and you won’t ever get a dinner table in this town again.”

“So I’m stuck?”

She put her hand back on his cheek. “Don’t take it so hard, baby; it’s only fame and fortune. Most men would jump at the chance.” She lowered her voice. “And most men would have propositioned me by now.”

“You are bold, miss.”

“By this time tomorrow, any woman on the Centurion lot can be yours; I figure I’d better hurry.”

“I live near here.”

“Show me.”

Stone signed the check, and they left the bar and walked through the cool evening toward his suite. She put her hand in his, but neither of them said anything. Along with the scent of frangipani, there was anticipation in the air.

The suite was softly lighted, and she went straight to the bedroom, dropping articles of clothing along the way. A message envelope had been pushed under the door; Stone couldn’t think about that now. He dropped it on the bedside table and started working on his own buttons.

She was naked first. “Leave the lights on,” she said, stripping the bedcover and top sheet off the bed.

He followed instructions.

She stretched out on the bare bed and clasped her hands behind her neck. Her tan ran from top to bottom without interruption, something he wasn’t accustomed to seeing in New York.

“Me first,” she said.

He started with her breasts and worked his way down. She kept her hands clasped behind her neck until he hit bottom, then her fingers were in his hair, pulling, while she made little noises.

After a while, it was his turn. It was worth the wait.

9

Stone woke slowly, at first disoriented in the strange room. The bed was a wreck, with covers everywhere, and he was alone. He stretched and thought about the night before, which was indeed a pleasant memory, then jumped as the phone rang. The bedside clock said six-thirty. He grabbed the phone.

“Hello?”

“It’s Bill Eggers; why didn’t you call me last night? I was up half the night waiting.”

“Why, Bill, I didn’t know you cared.”

“Didn’t you get my message?”

“Oh,” Stone said, ripping open the little envelope. It read:CALL ME TONIGHT, NO MATTER HOW LATE. “Sorry, Bill, I was preoccupied, I guess, and I didn’t even read it.”

“How the hell did you get to know David Sturmack?”

“I met him at a dinner party last night, at Vance Calder’s house.”

“Only last night? He called me about you yesterday afternoon; that was before you even met him?”

“That’s right.”

“Jesus, what are you doing in Hollywood, having dinner with movie stars and fixers?”

“Fixers?”

“Don’t you even know who David Sturmack is?”

“I know he has a lot of influence in the movie business; that’s about it. Who else is he?”

“Stone, if it doesn’t happen on the Upper East Side between Forty-second and Eighty-sixth Street, you don’t have a clue, do you?”

“Am Isupposed to know who Sturmack is?”

“Well, maybe not. Only a handful of people really know, and I happen to be one of them.”

“Why is he so little known for such a powerful fellow?”

“Because he wants it that way. Things usually get to be the way Sturmack wants them.”

“Oh.”

“You bet your ass. That was some conversation I had with him yesterday; he called me right out of the blue. I’m glad I was in.”

“Bill, you were telling me who Sturmack is.”

“He’s the prince of fucking darkness, that’s who he is.”

“You copped that line from a movie.”

“That doesn’t make it any less true,” Eggers said defensively.