The Last Don - Mario Puzo [148]
“Ernest is a man who does surprising things,” Claudia said. “He is determined to provide for his family. But Eli, he’s a writer and you always loved writers. Think of it as a contribution to art. Hell, you gave twenty million to the Metropolitan Museum. Why not do it for Ernest?”
“And have all the agents on our ass?” Bantz said.
Eli Marrion took a deep breath, the green prongs seemed to go deeper into his face. “Molly, Claudia, we will have to keep this our little secret. I’ll give Vail two gross points to a max of twenty million. I’ll give him a million up front. Will that satisfy you?”
Molly thought it over. Two gross points on all the pictures should yield a minimum of fifteen million but maybe more. It was the best she could do, and she was surprised that Marrion had gone so far. If she haggled he was quite capable of withdrawing the offer.
“That’s wonderful, Eli, thank you.” She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “I’ll send your office a memo tomorrow. And Eli, I do hope you get well soon.”
Claudia could not restrain her emotion. She clasped Eli’s hand in hers. She noticed the brown specks that mottled the skin, the hand chilly with approaching death. “You saved Ernest’s life.”
At that moment Eli Marrion’s daughter came into the room with her two small children. The nurse, Priscilla, rose from her chair like a cat scenting mice and moved toward the children, interposing herself between them and the bed. The daughter had been twice divorced and did not get on with her father, but she had a production company on the LoddStone lot because Eli was so fond of his grandchildren.
Claudia and Molly took their leave. They drove to Molly’s office and called Ernest to tell him the good news. He insisted on taking them out to dinner to celebrate.
Marrion’s daughter and two grandchildren stayed only a short time. But long enough for the daughter to get her father to promise to buy her a very expensive novel for her next movie.
Bobby Bantz and Eli Marrion were alone. “You’re a soft touch today,” Bantz said.
Marrion felt the weariness in his body, the air being sucked into it. He could relax with Bobby, he never had to act with him. They had been through so much together, used power together, won wars, traveled and schemed through the wide world. They could read each other’s minds.
“That novel I’m buying for my daughter, will it make a movie?” Marrion asked.
“Low-budget,” Bantz said. “Your daughter makes quote-unquote ‘serious’ movies.”
Marrion made a weary gesture. “Why do we always have to pay for other people’s good intentions? Give her a decent writer but no stars. She’ll be happy and we won’t lose too much money.”
“Are you really going to give Vail gross?” Bantz asked. “Our lawyer says we can win in court if he dies.”
Marrion said smilingly, “If I get well. If not, it will be up to you. You’ll be running the show.”
Bantz was astonished at this sentimentality. “Eli, you’ll get well, of course you will.” And he was absolutely sincere. He had no desire to succeed Eli Marrion, indeed he dreaded the day that inevitably had to come. He could do anything as long as Marrion approved it.
“It’s going to be up to you, Bobby,” Marrion said. “The truth is that I’m not going to make it. The doctors tell me I need a heart transplant and I’ve decided not to get one. I can live maybe six months, maybe a year, maybe much less with this lousy heart I have. And besides, I’m too old to qualify for a transplant.”
Bantz was stunned. “They can’t do a bypass?” he asked. When Marrion shook his head, Bantz went on. “Don’t be ridiculous, of course you’ll get a transplant. You built half the hospital, they have to give you a heart. You have another good ten years.” He paused for a moment. “You’re tired, Eli, we’ll talk about this tomorrow.” But Marrion had dozed off. Bantz left to check with the doctors and then to tell them to start all procedures