Serenade - James M. Cain [43]
"What's your idea of dough?"
"I've told you. But I've been wanting to break into pictures, and to get the chance, I'll split the difference with you. I'll do a little better than that. A thousand a week, and it's a deal. But that's rock bottom. I can't cut it, and I can't shade it."
We had it hot for a half hour, but I stuck and they came around. I wanted it in writing, so Stoessel took out a notebook and pen and wrote a memo of agreement, about five lines. I got a buck out of my pants and made him a receipt for that, first of all. That bound them. But when we got that far I had to tell my name. I hated to say John Howard Sharp, but I had to. He didn't say anything. He tore out the leaf, waved it in the air, handed it to Ziskin to sign. "John Howard Sharp--sure, I've heard of him. Somebody was telling about him just the other day."
***
They went, and a boy came in for Sabini's trunk, and Lahr went out and came back with a bottle and glasses. "Guy has broke into pictures, we got to have a drink on that...Where did you say you were booked?"
"With the Santa Fe, mashing down ballast."
"Happy days."
"Happy days."
"Happy days."
The crowd was gone and she was all alone when I ran down the hill, waving the cape at her. She turned her back on me, started to walk to the bus stop. I pulled out the wad of five Lahr had given me. "Look, look, look!" She wouldn't even turn her head. I took my coat off her, put it on, and dropped the cape over her shoulders. "...I wait very long time."
"Business! I been talking business."
"Yes. Smell very nice."
"Sure we had a drink. But listen: get what I'm telling you. I been talking business."
"I wait very long."
I let her get to the bus stop, but I didn't mean to ride on a bus. I began yelling for a taxi. There weren't any, but a car pulled up, a car from a limousine service. "Take you any place you want to go, sir. Rates exactly the same as the taxis--"
Did I care what his rates were? I shoved her in, and that did it. She tried to stay sore, but she felt the cushions, and when I took her in my arms she didn't pull away. There weren't any kisses yet, but the worst was over. I halfway liked it. It was our first row over a little thing. It made me feel she belonged to me.
We went to the Derby and had a real feed. It was the first time I had been in a decent place for a year. But I didn't break the big news until we were back at the hotel, undressing. Then I kind of just slid into it. "Oh, by the way. I got a little surprise for you."
"Surprise?"
"I got a job in pictures."
"Cinema?"
"That's right. A thousand a week."
"Oh."
"Hell, don't you get it? We're rich! A thousand a week--not pesos, dollars! Three thousand, six hundred pesos every week! Why don't you say something?"
"Yes, very nice."
I didn't mean a thing to her! But when I took the cape, and stood up there in my drawers, and sang the Toreador song at her, like I had at the Bowl, that talked. She clapped her hands, and sat on the bed, and I gave her the whole show. The phone rang. The desk calling, to ask me to shut up. I said O.K., but send up a boy. When he came I gave him a five and told him to get us some wine. He was back in a few minutes and we got a little tight, the way we had that night in the church. After a while we went to bed, and a long while after that she lay in my arms, running her fingers through my hair. "You like me?"
"Yes, much."
"Did I sing all right?"
"Very pretty."
"Were you proud of me?"
"...You very fonny fallow, you, Hoaney. Why I be proud? I no sing."
"But I sang."
"Yes. I like. Very much."
Chapter 8
I didn't like Hollywood. I didn't like it partly because of the way they treated a singer, and partly because of the way they treated her. To them, singing is just something you buy, for whatever you have to pay, and so is acting, and so is writing, and so is music, and anything else they use. That it might be good for its own sake