The Last Don - Mario Puzo [132]
Dita Tommey shrugged. “I’m not into asses as much as men are. But I think you’re charming and a very good actress. Good enough so that I think you can carry more than one line in this picture. And if you come to my house tonight, we can talk about your career. I’ll give you dinner.”
That night, after Dita Tommey and Falene Fant spent two hours in bed, Dita cooked dinner and they discussed Falene’s career.
“It was fun,” Dita said, “but I think from now on we should just be friends and keep this night a secret.”
“Sure,” Falene said. “But everyone knows you’re dykey. Is it my black ass?” She was grinning.
Dita ignored the word dykey. That was a deliberate impudence to pay back for the seeming rejection. “It’s a great ass, black, white, green, or yellow,” Dita said. “But you have real talent. If I keep casting you in my pictures, you won’t get credit for your talent. And I only make a picture every two years. You have to work more than that. Most directors are male and when they cast somebody like you they’re always hoping for a little screw. If they think you’re dykey, they may pass.”
“Who needs directors if I have a producer and the head of a studio,” Falene said cheerfully.
“You do,” Dita said. “The other guys can get you a foot in the door, but the director can leave you on the cutting-room floor. Or he can shoot you so that you look and sound like shit.”
Falene shook her head woefully. “I have to fuck Bobby Bantz, Skippy Deere, and I’ve already fucked you. Is this absolutely necessary?” She opened her eyes wide, innocently.
Dita really felt fond of her at the moment. Here was a girl who didn’t try to be indignant. “I had a very good time tonight,” she said. “You hit exactly the right note.”
“Well, I never understood the fuss people make about sex,” Falene said. “It’s no hardship for me. I don’t do drugs, I don’t drink a lot. I have to have a little fun.”
“Fine,” Dita said. “Now, about Deere and Bantz. Deere is the better bet and I’ll tell you why. Deere is in love with himself and he loves women. He will really do something for you. He’ll find you a good part, he’s smart enough to see your talent. Now Bantz doesn’t like anybody except Eli Marrion. Also he has no taste, no eye for talent. Bantz will sign you to a studio contract and then let you rot. He does that with his wife to keep her quiet. She gets a lot of work for top dollar but never a decent part. Skippy Deere, if he likes you, will do something for your career.”
“This sounds a little cold-blooded,” Falene said.
Dita tapped her on the arm. “Don’t bullshit me. I’m a dyke but I’m a woman too. And I know actors. They will do anything, male or female, to go up the ladder. We all play for big stakes. Do you want to go to a nine-to-five job in Oklahoma or do you want to become a movie star and live in Malibu? I see by your sheet that you’re twenty-three years old. How many have you fucked already?”
“Counting you?” Falene said. “Maybe fifty. But all for fun,” she said in mock apology.
“So a few more won’t traumatize you,” Dita said. “And who knows, it may be fun again.”
“You know,” Falene said, “I wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t so sure I’d be a star.”
“Of course,” Dita said. “None of us would.”
Falene laughed. “What about you?” she asked.
“I didn’t have the option,” Dita said. “I made it on sheer overwhelming talent.”
“Poor you,” Falene said.
At LoddStone Studios, Bobby Bantz, Skippy Deere, and Melo Stuart were meeting with Eli Marrion in his office. Bantz was enraged. “That silly prick, he scares everybody to death and then commits suicide.”
Marrion said to Stuart, “Melo, your client is coming back to work I assume.”
“Of course,” Melo said.
“She has no further requests, she doesn’t need any extra inducements?” Marrion asked in a quiet, deadly voice. For the first time, Melo Stuart became aware that Marrion was in a rage.
“No,” Melo said. “She can start work tomorrow.”
“Great,” Deere said. “We may still come in under budget.”
“I want you all to shut up and listen to me,” Marrion said. And this rudeness,