Authors: Robbins Harold
The baron looked down for a moment, then opened his desk drawer and took out a single sheet of paper. He wrote the date in his own hand across the top, then turned to Robert with a smile. "And I have something for you."
Robert looked down at the sheet of paper. Below the date were the typewritten words:
The De Coyne Bank announces today the retirement of the Baron Henri Raphael Sylvestre de Coyne from his office as President of the Bank, and the election of his son, Robert Raymonde Samuel de Coyne, as his successor. In so doing, the De Coyne Bank announces with pride, the office of President has now passed directly from father to son for the fourth generation.
There were tears in the old man's eyes as he looked at Robert. "It is my fondest wish," he said quietly, "that one day you will be able to do this for your son."
Robert leaned over his father's chair. He tasted the salt of the old man's tears as he pressed his lips first to one cheek, then the other. "Thank you, Father," he said humbly. "It is also my fondest wish."
CHAPTER 18
Dee Dee came into the bedroom holding a newspaper. "Have you read this column of Irma Andersen's?"
Dax rolled over on his bed. "You know I don't read the columns."
That was something Dee Dee would never understand. As an actress she was constantly searching the papers for mention of herself. She subscribed to at least three different clipping services and would no more think of coming down to breakfast without the morning columns than she would of leaving the house without makeup.
The jet plane has given society a new freedom. Freedom from boredom. Bored? Get on a jet and tomorrow you're anywhere in the world you want to be. You could be in Paris attending the latest showing of the new Prince Nikovitch collection with Robert de Coyne, the new young head of the ancient De Coyne Bank, and his lovely wife, Denisonde, and charming sister, Caroline. You could be in London at Claridge's and lunching on the roast beef at the next table might be the Earl of Buckingham and Jeremy Hadley and perhaps even one or two visiting American congressmen. London is very 'in' politically this year. Or you could be on the Via Veneto in Rome rubbing elbows with Dee Dee Lester or any one of your favorite Hollywood movie stars flocking to what many think is rapidly becoming the new cinema capital of the world. Or you could be lying on the sand soaking up the sun on the Riviera, not even knowing that the man with the beautiful tan lying next to you is the famous South American playboy Dax Xenos, and the beautiful girl in the brief bikini next to him Sue Ann Daley, probably the richest heiress in the world.
You, too, can join the fabulous jet set. You don't have to be a movie star, born into the four hundred, or a politician or a playboy. You don't even have to be rich. All you need is a ticket. The jets fly day and night.
Dee Dee put down the newspaper and looked at Dax. "What do you think of that?"
"If it's all that damn exciting, what the hell are we doing in New York?"
"That's not what I mean."
"The old dike must have a new client, the airlines."
"You're being deliberately stupid."
"Stupid? Let me see that newspaper." Dax took it from her hand and rapidly glanced at it. "I don't know what you're complaining about. She spelled your name right."
"Damn! You know perfectly well what I mean. Me in Rome, you on the Riviera!"
"Wrong on both counts as usual," Dax said, shaking his head. "We're in New York. Very bad reporting."
Dee Dee pulled the newspaper from his hand and hit him across the head with it. "With Sue Ann Daley, that's what I mean! The old bitch did that deliberately. She wanted to show we were apart."
"Well, we were."
"Then you admit you were on the Riviera with Sue Ann?"
"Of course. You didn't expect me to stay in all that accursed heat in Rome while you were making a picture, did you?"
"You came to New York with her; that's why I had to come here to find you."
Dax shrugged. "I was coming to New York anyway."
Dee Dee sat down suddenly. "I don't like it."
"Careful, you're beginning to act possessive."
Dee Dee looked at him with troubled eyes. "I think I'm beginning to fall in love with you."
"Don't! Love is not the 'in' thing this year, not even in the jet set."
Dax followed the maitre d' into the bar. As usual, "21" was crowded. He nodded pleasantly to several people he knew on the way to his corner table.
"Sorry I'm late," he apologized as Jeremy Hadley rose to greet him.
"That's all right. I just got here myself."
They both sat down and Dax ordered a Bloody Mary. When the captain went away the two men looked at each other. "Well?"
Jeremy smiled. "I'm a little surprised that when I suggested lunch you chose '21' instead of the Colony."
Dax laughed. "I only take girls to the Colony."
"I bow to the leader."
"The leader?"
"Didn't you know? That's what they're calling you now."
Dax was honestly puzzled. "I can't see why."
"I suppose the newspapers started it. You've become the columnists' darling."
Dax grinned. "Oh, them. They're a bunch of old women. They have nothing else to write about."
"Not true," Jeremy replied quickly, "they have their pick of the field. They can write about any celebrity. But they write about you because you represent to them the new way of life. Somehow you always turn up at the right places, with the right people, at the right time. Do you know how many times a week your name is in the columns?"
"You mean I'm 'in'?"
"You're more than that." Jeremy smiled. "As far as the columns and their millions of readers go, Eisenhower could be in Topeka, Kansas, instead of the White House."
The waiter brought Dax's drink. He tasted it and nodded, and the waiter, who was hovering nearby, went away.
"As a matter of fact, that's why I suggested lunch."
"You mean you want to interview me?"
Jeremy laughed. "You think it's such a bad idea? Might be just the thing I need to hype up my readership."
"You're doing all right."
"I suppose so." Jeremy waited until Dax put down his drink. "This is off the record," he said, leaning forward, his voice lowering confidentially. "My friend the senator is thinking of getting married."
"I know, to that Back Bay girl. She's very nice."
Jeremy stared at him in amazement. "How did you know? It's all been kept very quiet. Not a word has appeared in the newspapers."
"Why should you be so surprised?" Dax asked. "If I'm as 'in' as you say, it's only normal that I hear things."
When he saw that Jeremy was still puzzled, he smiled. "It's really quite simple. When I was in Capri last month I went water-skiing with a girl who used to be what you Americans call his 'girlfriend.' I must say she was quite philosophical about it. Apparently she's been well taken care of."
"Oh, brother! I suppose you also know why we're lunching?"
"Not yet."
"If you know the girl he's going to marry you know the kind of a girl she is. Good family. Educated at the best schools, here and abroad. A very nice girl really, but a little distant, reserved, and cool. Slightly snobbish, the average American might think." He fell silent.
"I see," Dax said reflectively. "Not quite the image a man with ambitions to be President wants his wife to project."
"That's it in a way," Jeremy admitted.
"I still don't see what it has to do with me."
"I'm getting to that. There's a big flap going on about her clothes. She wants to go to Paris for her trousseau but he's against it. He's afraid there might be some political reaction. You know what I mean?"
Dax nodded. He had some idea of the complexities of American politics. In many ways the ILGWU commanded a great deal of respect.
"The senator asked me as a friend to help resolve the impasse," Jeremy continued, "and I came up with the idea of Prince Nikovitch. She'd purchased some things from him last year in Paris, so she approved of the idea. The senator was satisfied, too, since the prince is now American based."
"Sergei would be delighted."
"I'm sure, but the senator had one further reservation. He thought it might be more acceptable if the prince announced his intention of becoming an American citizen before any announcement was made. That way there should be very little criticism."
"That shouldn't present any problem. I'm sure he'd be agreeable."
"Would you speak to Sergei for us?" Jeremy asked. "I can't, my association with the senator is too well known."
"I'd be glad to. That's simple enough."
"There's another thing."
"Yes?"
"This may be trickier. My youngest brother, Kevin, is graduating from Harvard this year."
"The baby?"
Jeremy laughed. "The baby? You should see him, he's six foot two. Anyway, he and the senator's brother, who is in the same class, are going to Europe on their own this summer. And if I know those two, they won't be twenty minutes off the plane before the roof blows off."
"That sounds healthy."
"If it were just Kevin it wouldn't be so bad," Jeremy said, "but the senator's brother will attract the reporters."
"I see." Dax looked at Jeremy. "Your friend has many problems."
"We both know our younger brothers."
"What would you like me to do?"
"I was wondering if there is some way we could sort of keep an eye on them, see they don't get into trouble."
"That wouldn't be easy," Dax replied thoughtfully. "Young men move pretty quickly."
They sat silently for a moment, then Dax said, "If we could somehow control where they went and whom they met it would help."
Jeremy didn't answer.
"That might just be the way to do it." Dax looked at Jeremy. "I'll get in touch with an old friend of mine. She'll see to it that they are occupied from the moment they land."
"But how?"
Dax smiled. "You don't know Madame Blanchette. She's retired now but she will do it as a favor to me."
"They must never know that everything is set up for them. If they do, it will be the end."
"They'll never know what hit them." Dax laughed. "All I can say is that they may never want to come home. No matter where they go in Europe they'll be up to their elbows in cunt."
CHAPTER 19
Dee Dee came into Dax's hotel suite in Rome while he was eating breakfast. "Where were you last night?"
He paused in the act of buttering a roll. "Out."
"With Sue Ann." She threw a newspaper down on the table in front of him. "Your picture is on the front page."
Dax looked down at it, then back at her. "Those paparazzi never really take good pictures, do they?"
"You didn't tell me Sue Ann was here."
Dax took another bite of the roll and a swallow of coffee. "I didn't think you cared about her that much."
"But we were supposed to have dinner last night," she all but wailed.
"That's right. I waited here for you until ten o'clock, then I called the studio. They said you'd be working until midnight finishing the picture so I figured you'd be too tired to do anything but go to sleep."
Dee Dee stared at him silently.
Calmly Dax buttered another roll. "Now be a good little girl and go back to your room and get some more sleep. You know I don't like arguments at breakfast."
"I'm getting sick and tired of having Sue Ann show up everywhere we go."
"I can't tell Sue Ann where to go. She pays her own way."
"You like having her follow you around."
Dax smiled. "It's not exactly bad for my ego."
"Oh, I hate you!"
"I have a theory," Dax replied. "She's really not following me, she's following you. I think she's in love with you."
Dee Dee was suddenly really angry. "You'll have to make up your mind. I won't have any more of it!"
"Don't push it," Dax said, his voice suddenly cold. "I don't like being pushed."
"I don't know what you see in her. She's like an animal."
"That's just it." His voice was still cool. "You go out with Sue Ann, you have a few laughs, you go to bed, that's all there is to it. No bullshit, no romance or lies about love —tomorrow is your own, no promises, no demands. Besides, she doesn't require applause every time she farts."
"And you think I do?"
"I didn't say that. You asked about Sue Ann, and I told you." Dax picked up another roll. "Now go away. I told you I don't like arguments at breakfast."
"You egotistical bastard!" Dee Dee exclaimed, her hand raised as if to swing at him.
Instinctively his arm shot up to ward off the blow, and by accident his half-closed fist caught her on. the cheek. She stepped backward in surprise.
"You hit me!" she said in a shocked voice. She turned and ran to a mirror. "In the eye too." She studied herself. "It's turning black and blue!"
Dax got up curiously. He didn't think he had hit her that hard. Besides, he knew how prone she was to overdramatize anything. "Let me have a look at it."
Dee Dee turned to face him.
"It's nothing," he said, and began to laugh. "But it does look like you're getting a shiner. Let me get you something for it."
"Stay away from me, you beast! You're going to hit me again!"
"Come off it, Dee Dee. The picture was finished last night. Stop acting."
She turned and ran to the door. He caught her by the arm just as she opened it. She glared at him. "Make up your mind! It's me or her!"
Dax was still laughing as he tried to pull her back into the room. Angrily she pulled her arm free. "You'll never beat me up again!" she cried, and opened the door wide. She stepped out into the corridor just as the flashgun went off.
It made the newspapers all over the world.
There were even more photographs when she got off the plane the next day in New York wearing an eyepatch. For the first time in her life Dee Dee received all the publicity she had ever wanted. But it wasn't until a week later, when a reporter thrust a newspaper at her with a terse "Any comment, Miss Lester?" that she realized what she had done.