The Last Don - Mario Puzo [46]
Marrion listened to her with a benign smile. He felt very comfortable. He realized that an essential part of his life was over, finished by an approaching death. That he would never again make love to a woman, or even try, was not humiliating. He knew Claudia would not talk about this night, and if she did, what would it matter? He still retained his worldly power. He could still change the destinies of thousands, as long as he remained alive. And now he was interested in her analysis of the film.
“You don’t understand,” he said. “I can bring a picture into existence but I can’t execute the picture. You’re quite right, I will never hire that director again. The Talent doesn’t lose money, I do. But Talent has to take the blame. My question is, Will a movie make money? If it becomes a work of art, that’s just a happy accident.”
As they spoke, Marrion got out of bed and began to dress. Claudia hated it when men put on their clothes, they were so much more difficult to talk to. Marrion, to her, was infinitely more lovable naked, strange as that seemed; his spindly legs, his meager body, his huge head, all made her feel an affectionate pity. Oddly enough, his penis, flaccid, was bigger than that of most men in a similar state. She made a mental note to ask her surgeon about that. Did a penis grow larger as it grew more useless?
Now she saw how fatiguing it was for Marrion to button his shirt and put in his cuff links. She jumped out of bed to help him.
Marrion studied her nakedness. Her body was better than many of the stars he had gone to bed with, but he felt no mental flicker and the cells of his body did not react to her beauty. And he did not really feel regret or sadness.
Claudia helped put on his trousers, button his shirt, put in the cuff links. She straightened his maroon tie and brushed back his gray hair with her fingers. He slipped on his suit jacket and there he stood, all his visible power restored. She kissed him and said, “I had a good time.”
Marrion was studying her as though she were some sort of opponent. Then he smiled his famous smile that erased the ugliness of his features. He accepted the fact that she was truly innocent, that she had a good heart, and he believed that it was because of her youth. It was just too bad that the world she lived in would change her.
“Well, at least I can feed you,” Marrion said. He picked up the phone to call room service.
Claudia was hungry. She polished off a soup, duck with vegetables, and then a huge bowl of strawberry ice cream. Marrion ate very little but did his share in polishing off the bottle of wine. They talked about movies and books, and Claudia learned to her astonishment that Marrion was a far better reader than she was.
“I would have loved to be a writer,” Marrion said. “I love writing, books give me so much pleasure. But you know I’ve rarely met a writer I could like personally, even when I adore their books. Ernest Vail for instance. He writes beauti-ful books but he’s such a pain in the ass in real life. How can that be?”
“Because writers are not their books,” Claudia said. “Their books are the distillation of the very best that is in them. They’re like a ton of rocks that you have to crush to get a little diamond, if that’s what you do to get a diamond.”
“You know Ernest Vail?” Marrion asked. Claudia appreciated that he said this without a trace of salaciousness. He must have known about her love affair with Vail. “Now, I love his writing but I can’t stand him personally. And he has a grudge against the Studio that is insane.”
Claudia patted his hand, a familiarity that was permissible since she had seen him naked. “All the Talent has a grudge against the Studio,” she said. “It’s not personal. And besides, you’re not exactly a sweetheart in business relationships. I may be the only writer in town who really likes you.” They both laughed.
Before they parted, Marrion said to Claudia, “Any time you have a