The Dud Avocado - Elaine Dundy [86]
Then Stefan said, “Well, what do you think of my youngsters?” and Larry shoved Bax and me forward, and the Casting Director looked at us awhile and said, “Remarkable, absolutely remarkable. Let me take their particulars.”
“And who is the other gentleman?” he asked finally.
Larry stepped forward. “Larry Keevil’s my name,” he said suavely. “This is my client. I handle Miss Gorce.”
I waited for them to laugh us out of the room, but they didn’t turn a hair. They acted as if it was the most natural thing in the world for an unknown actress to show up out of the blue, agent in hand.
“And Mr. Baxter, Mr. Keevil? You handle him as well?” Larry said he did.
“Well the position is——” began the Casting Director, but he got no further. Stefan, who had been talking on the intercom, suddenly turned and said dramatically, “He’s here! They arrived an hour ago and he’s outside the office now.” The Casting Director sprang into action, whipped the papers off his desk and said,, “Show him in, old boy, show him in immediatlih.”
The door opened and in came a beautiful little brown boy in a pale gabardine suit two sizes too big, almost completely hidden by several other large Spaniards. They were all smoking cigars. The Bullfighter. I knew it immediately. I tried not to stare but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Stefan asked us to wait outside until they were finished and we filed out of the office, and as I passed, one of them—I think it was the kid himself, took the cigar out of his mouth and said “Wappa,” something like that, and then another one said, “Mwee wappa,” at least that’s what it sounded like.
We sat around outside for about fifteen minutes, and then the door flew open and Stefan poked his head out, winked at me, and called Larry in. Then another fifteen minutes passed, the door opened again, and I heard the Casting Director saying to Larry, “Well, if she wants to do it, we’re delighted,” and Larry answer, “Of course she will. Just let me handle it.” Then they came out and the Casting Director said, “Good-by, Miss Gorce, Mr. Baxter. Good of you to drop in. We’ll be seeing a lot more of you, I expect,” and the door closed again.
“Will I do what?” I asked Larry excitedly.
“Shut up. Wait till we get out.”
We found a café near the wharf and sat down. “I’ll buy us a drink,” said Larry, “we need it.”
“What: happened, what happened? Don’t sit there like that. Come on, tell us, for God’s sake!”
Larry had tilted his chair back from the table and was balancing back and forth looking at us both, shaking his head in wonder. “Whew!” he said. “Wait’ll you get a load of this. I’ve had a lot of shocks in my life but this caps it.” Then his chair came forward with a bang and he leaned over and started playing with his St. Raphael while we breathed all over him with impatience.
Finally he turned to Bax.
“They are crazy about you, boy,” he said simply. “Really crazy. They think you are a find. They want to test you for a big part, and if you shape up right they talk of putting you under contract.”
Bax was calm; almost despondent. “Is that all? No thanks,” he said in a bored sort of way.
“No thanks? It’s the chance of a lifetime!”
“Look,” said Bax, “I only came down today because you thought it would help Sally Jay if I did. I don’t know why, but ever since I can remember I’ve been followed down the street by talent scouts wanting to discover me. I’ve been all through this before. I even resigned from the Mask and Wig Society at college, and I’m crazy about the theater, because every time I wanted to do something artistic like designing scenery or getting on the board that chose the plays