Mitla Pass - Leon Uris [41]
Penny and Roxy adored him, partly because of his extravagant presents. Valerie tolerated him because she’d grown up with so many colorful characters in the Navy. On the other hand, she detested him because when he blew into town I was always bound to go out on a real twister for a few days.
We started out at Tail o’ the Cock, and ended up at his cottage at the Beverly Hills, with numerous intermediate stops.
“You haven’t drawn a happy breath since you’ve been down here but I’ve never seen you like this,” Junkyard said.
“I saw six hundred that’s six zero zero—screenwriters bow like sheep in the face of a loyalty oath. When I refused to sign, Colonel Gold recited to me, for the first time, those immortal words, ‘You’ll never work in this town again.’ Son of a bitch hired me two weeks later to get a bungled script into order.”
Junkyard unpeeled the top of a new vodka bottle. I was on the stuff, straight, now.
“And furthermore,” I emoted, “I saw a casting call go out for dumb, big-titted redheads answered by five hundred big-titted redheads who went down on forty-two producers and a partridge in a pear tree.”
I banged down some hors d’oeuvres and a shot.
“Speaking of big-titted redheads, the girls should be showing up pretty soon.”
“Why don’t you give them a call and tell them we’ll catch up with them tomorrow night. I think you need to talk to your buddy,” Junkyard said.
“I’m running off at the mouth. Better shut up.”
“It’s hidden down there pretty deep. It’s got to find its way out of you, Gideon.”
I dialed. “Hello, Brenda, Gideon. Sorry to break your heart, lover, but we’re not going to be able to get together tonight. We’ll take care of the tab. Hold tomorrow night open. You’re a real doll.”
I couldn’t look Junkyard in the eyes. “Actors,” I said. “Ever see a peacock spread its fan and shriek? Horrible sound. You whore writers aren’t making me beautiful enough. And the broads come after your nuts with switchblade knives. I owe this Oscar to all the little people, the grips, the cameramen, the wardrobe mistress, but most of all to MY writers.”
“You was always a big pain in the ass, Gideon. Always hustling. If it had been up to you, you would have turned the whole regiment into dancing boys and staged the biggest fucking review the world had ever seen.”
“Let me tell you something. It’s not normal, or human, or decent, to ask a man to write a novel. Three to five years in that God-damned darkness!”
“Then stop crying in your beer and be thankful for what you’ve got.”
“Shit! Go to Hong Kong! I don’t have to listen to your shit! You were always full of shit!”
“What’s scaring you, son?”
Junkyard was a big strong man and when he grabbed you, you knew it. He took my shoulders and shook me.
“What’s scaring you!”
I tore out of his arms and could feel my chest tightening up. I was going to have a goddam asthma attack! He came up behind me.
“We’re coming into the beach! The Japs have opened fire! The ramp drops! What’s scaring you? Is it the Jew business? Are you haunted by dreams about Pedro? You’re the biggest man to come out of our regiment! We’re proud when we can just touch you! Now what’s scaring you?”
“Loneliness!” I screamed.
It grew very quiet. His eyes were filled with the kind of sorrow he had after the battle. I realized then, I meant something special to a lot of Marines. “God,” he whispered.
“It’s a terrible fear, so awful. I don’t know how to whip it.”
“Be a Marine,” he said.
“Fuck all, I can’t make it.”
“You’ve got to get your ass out of this town and prove you can bear your loneliness. Look at you, son. You’re so unhappy you’re going to put a gun to your head.”
“I don’t know if I can, man.”
“I’ve got a nice setup on St. Barthélemy. I want you to go down there and get your shit together.”
“I don’t know, man, I