Executioner's Song, The - Norman Mailer [294]
In the restaurant, Schiller kept asking if this is the way Gary acted all the time. Everybody started saying, "Man, he's never talked to anybody the way he talked to you." Schiller didn't know if they were saying that to stroke him, but Vern said quietly, "I think he really likes you." So, Schiller's confidence was building. When they went back he started talking to Gary about a number of subjects, only the conversation hadn't gone fifteen minutes when there was an interruption on the phone, and a long conversation between Moody and somebody at the other end. The Warden or the Assistant Warden.
Schiller was terminated.
Gary was very upset. Kept asking, "Who said that? Who gave the order? He's on my lawyer's team. He's allowed to be here." Schiller said, "Don't worry about it, Gary, we'll have plenty of time." Then Moody got up and said, "Here, Gary, is the contract we've discussed."
They held up this long piece of paper and started reading the money figures over the telephone, and Gary said, "Yes, have the thing typed up. I'll look it over again and sign it."
After the lawyers and Schiller had left, Gary asked Vern, "In your opinion, is he the right fellow?" Vern said, "I don't know just exactly yet, but I think he is."
"What about Susskind?" asked Gary, and answered himself. "I feel like Mr. Schiller is the one. I like his way of doing business."
That Saturday night and Sunday morning, Schiller worked with Moody and Stanger doing the contracts, making the changes, bringing in secretaries, working the goddamn computer typewriters. The lawyers didn't go to church, and there was a lot of kidding about that.
But by Sunday afternoon, the contracts were drawn, and Schiller went back in his motel to wait for the signing.
About then, Boaz called Susskind collect. He always called collect.
Susskind said, "Don't you even have a phone?" Dennis giggled.
"No, look," said Susskind, "you've gone too far. I don't know what you've done, but you're out and other men are in. You have no more rights in this matter." "Oh, yes," said Boaz, "it can't be done without me."
"Oh," said Susskind, "it can, and it will. But it isn't going to be done by me." "Listen," said Dennis, "maybe I'm no longer the lawyer in the case, but I have a few documents and I got . . ." Susskind decided he was raving. "You are a poseur," he said, "and a liar and a flaky man. I think you're a very nasty person. Don't ever call me again, collect or otherwise." Things had certainly ended up on an extremely sour note, rancid.
Moody and Stanger got a little rest, and then went up to the prison late Sunday afternoon. Talking on the telephone across the hall, they went through the terms of the contract. Gary didn't want many changes and it was only when they discussed access to his letters that he became angry. He scratched out the clause with his pen and wrote on the contract that no such access was granted until he had spoken to Nicole. The attorneys tried to argue. "You don't have anything to say about it," Moody told him, "they're Nicole's letters now."
"Well, goddammit," said Gary, "they are not going to be read until I give my consent."
All the while, Schiller was waiting in his room. He sat in that motel until 3 A.M. Monday morning, waiting for them to call. Even phoned the prison to discover they were not there. So, he called Moody's home and woke him up. They'd been back for hours. Back, in fact, since eight-thirty in the evening. It just never occurred to them that he was waiting. All the while he'd been going through desperate scenarios in his head.
Big Jake came back to the tank with a large jar of instant coffee, a large jar of Tang, and a carton of Gibbs's brand of cigarettes, Viceroy Super Longs. He told Gibbs that Gary had asked Vern Damico to drop them off at the jail. Also a message: Geebs, all of a sudden, i've become rather rich if you