The Movie (31 page)

They followed her past the polished mahogany tables, biscuit-coloured walls and discreet Impressionist paintings to a large set of double doors at the end of the hallway. Opening it, the woman discreetly ushered them into the Artemis boardroom.

Eleanor took the scene in at a glance. A long, square table polished until it reflected, like a mirror, the sober faces of the seven middle-aged men seated round it. Howard Thorn was the only director Eleanor had met in the flesh, but she recognized all the others from their glossy colour pictures in the annual report: Harry Trasker, Kenneth Rich, Eli Leber, Kit Wilson, Conrad Miles, and Martin Bimbaum.

All of them serious Wall Street players.

All of them only interested in the stock.

Idly, she wondered if a woman had ever sat on the board.

‘Tom, Eleanor, good to see you,’ Howard Thorn said expansively.

What a breathtakingly ugly man, Eleanor thought, smiling sweetly at him.

‘I know you have a report for us. So why don’t we just cut to the chase and get on with it?’ He motioned, to the

248

empty chair at the head of the table. ‘Now, whc presenting first?’

Eleanor took one last look at the room. A porcela coffee service. A mind-blowing view over central Ma hattan, the city laid out behind and beneath them in glittering panorama. And a bunch of financiers, completel uninterested in what she had to say-they were waiting fi Tom’s real numbers.

‘I am,’ she said, clearly and confidently. She strode up the head of the table, clicked open her briefcase, ar unhurriedly hung her brightly coloured demograplz charts on the easel laid out behind her. Then she turned face her multibillion-dollar audience, seven men who h the power to end her career with a stroke of the pen, ar sell her studio out to the Japenese.

‘Gentlemen,’ she said easily. ‘My name is Elean, Marshall,°and I am the President and Chief Operatil Officer of Artemis Studios.’

249

They stumbled into the lobby of the Victrix together, laughing like teenagers. Goldman was still grinning at her when he checked them in, relaxed and loose in the aftermath of the victory high.

It had been a great presentation; his numbers had been ‘scrutinized and analysed by the board and found to be impressive, but the real breakthrough had been Eleanor’s speech. Goldman kept visualizing the surprised, attentive looks on the faces of the staid board members as she talked to them about the undefinable nature of the movie business, the difficulty in calculating future returns by past pei-formance. With fluid gestures and easy words, she had demonstrated to them that just because Martin Webber had produced nothing but flops that did not mean she was going to. And finally she had begun to talk about See the Lights, driving home her point with such passionate enthusiasm that even bankers like Conrad Miles and Harry Trasker had begun to, register what the project was all about, and how much money it could make for them. Howard Thorn had said nice things about loxana Felix; well, Goldman expected that, after the arm-twisting Thorn had done for her earlier. He wondered briefly if lkoxana was screwing the fat jerk, but decided she wasn’t. She was a forty-million-dollar supermodel. Surely it wouldn’t be worth it to her, to fuck Howard Thorn just for help in getting cast. Thorn had only been able to guarantee her tests got seen, not to cast her, and See the Lights would

250

mount to a day’s pay compared with what the woman was already earning as a supermodel. It just didn’t make sense. But anyway the clincher had come when Eleanor pulled out a videotape from her briefcase, asked that a TV be brought into the boardroom, and then played the tests of Zach and loxana together, drawing attention to the huge publicity angle in their relationship.

The suits had paid little attention to her words, though, Tom thought, smiling. They were too caught up in trying to control their erections. By the end of that five-minute tape, Eleanor Marshall had every one of the boys eating out of her manicured hand. As far as See the Lights was concerned, they were believers.

Goldman wasn’t out of the danger zone, he knew that. The Japanese would continue to circle overhead. But at least his president had managed to convince them that selling fight now would be a mistake - See the Lights would lift the stock price, help them to get more for the company later, if they still intended to sell. It wasn’t rescue - it was reprieve. But they bought themselves a little time. And right now, that was as much as he could have hoped for.

‘Here you are, sir. The Presidential Suite and the Emperor Suite,’ the receptionist said, handing him their keys. ‘Would you like a valet for your bags?’

Goldman hefted up his lightweight overnight case and shook his head. He picked up Eleanor’s neat little Gucci case. ‘No, thanks, we’ll be fine.’

‘Are you my porter now?’ Eleanor enquired, amused. Goldman bowed his head in her direction. ‘After the performance you just gave, I’m anything you want me to be, ma’am.’

‘Don’t tempt me,’ she teased, as they headed towards the elevator.

The car hissed up the floors as smooth as silk.

‘Not going to stop it this time?’ Eleanor asked Tom. She was flirting with him, lightheaded with victory. The relief

a

of getting through their presentation was so enormous that it almost made her dizzy. And reckless. A little fun wouldn’t kill them, not in New York, where even Isabelle

Kendrick’s bat-ears couldn’t pick up what she was saying. ‘You can laugh ‘

‘Thanks,’ Eleanor said, smiling.

‘ - but you needed that pep talk. And flit got you results

like those, I reserve the right to stop your elevator car whenever I feel like it.’

‘OK, coach. You got it. And how come I’m only in the Presidential Suite and you’re in the Emperor Suite? Yours sounds way better.’

‘Age before beauty,’ Goldman said airily. ‘And I am the Emperor around here. Bear that in mind.’

‘

‘Maybe it’s about time we had an Empress,’ Eleanor

threatened him. ‘Maybe I’ll do aJake Keller on you.’

They stepped out on the penthouse floor; their suites

were right next to each other. Goldman opened up Eleanor’s door for her.

‘Look at that,’ she murmured, impressed.

The place was a P,.egency fantasy in white and gold; soft cream carpet was laid throughout with a delicate pattern of gold leaves, twisting in some unseen breeze, repeated on the walls and around the edge of the ceiling. Long velvet drapes the colour of burnished bronze hung from windows twelve feet high, offering a magnificent view down the Avenue of the Americas. On a white marble coffee table with gold detailing was a crystal vase fdled with pure white lilies, stamens covered in thick yellow pollen that reflected the general colour scheme. The bathroom, as large a room as the bedroom, was built round a centrepiece of a large jacuzzi, with a sunken Japanese bath right next to it. But the third room was the thing Eleanor found truly luxurious: a perfect reproduction of an English country library, complete with mounted stag’s head, leather-bound tomes and a dark green leather armchair.

‘Jesus,’ Goldman remarked. ‘Want to swap?’ Eleanor laughed. ‘You haven’t seen yours yet. Lo( why don’t you go and get changed. I need to freshen then maybe we can go and have tea together.’

‘What, you mean cute little English sandwiches a scones with cream?’

‘Exactly,’ Eleanor said.

‘And you’re gonna have a shower?’ Goldman enquir, ‘Can I watch?’

She laughed lightly, but felt Tom’s eyes hungry on t nape of her neck. Come on, now, Eleanor, you

imagining things, she told herself firmly.

‘Nothing interesting to see,’ she said.

Tom took a step back from her, staring at her, his eyes taking everything in, from the elegant ash-blonde h fxed nearly in place, past the slight swell of her bre visible under her jacket, to the soft curve of her cal’˘ tapering down into Patrick Cox pumps that emphasi her slender ankles. Eleanor was beautiful and sensual an pleasure to look at. He took his time, and she felt his like a caress on her skin, a sudden lick of sexual h following his eyes, as though he were actually strippi

her, peeling away her clothes to examine her naked go ‘Somehow I doubt that,’ Tom said, eventually.

He saw her blush bright red, and the languid snake lust curling in his belly stirred a little faster. He didn’t kill why he had done that, but it felt good. And it felt good tl she seemed to know what he was thinking.

There was a long pause.

‘I’ll come and get you in

‘ ” ‘

twenty rmnutes, Elea

managed, with an effort.

‘OK,’ Tom Goldman said, and left the room.

Isabelle Kendrick didn’t usually pay house calls. Eitl people came to her, at her convenience, or-more usua - she met with a favoured few at the most highly visil

253

restaurants in town. After all, what was the point of being a social lioness if one didn’t shine in society? But on this occasion she parked her Bendey at the front of the Goldmans’ Beverly Hills mansion without even taking the time to gloat over how much more attractive her own gardens were.

Jordan had called this morning, and it was serious. Extremely serious. So serious, in fact, that for once Isabelle ” had absolutely no desire to discuss the matter in front of a

crowded room. She had no wish to be seen to be discussing it with Jordan at all. And yet, as Isabelle stepped out of her car and walked quickly up to the Goldmans’ pillared front porch, immaculate in her navy Bill Blass dress and Charles Jourdan heels, her heart actually began to beat faster with ‘ the unusual sensation of excitement.

A uniformed maid answered the door. ‘Won’t you come in, Mrs Kendrick,’ she said. ‘Mrs Goldman’s waiting for you in the drawing room.’

Isabelle thanked her briskly and walked straight into the Goldmans’ sub-Palph-Lauren reception room. “Just as she had expected, Jordan Cabot Goldman, overdressed in a glitzy Valentino pantsuit, was leaning tragically against the fireplace, weeping into a lace handkerchief. -‘Isabelle, thank God you’re here,’ she sobbed.

‘My dear, Ijumpei:l in the car the second I hung up on you,’ Isabelle said, trying to feign compassion through the thrill of it all. ,

Forget about the parties. Here she had the opportunity for some real social engineering. And if she succeeded, not only would it be a strike against Eleanor Marshall, but it would mean that Jordan Goldman was indebted to her forever. Indirecdy Isabelle would control not only the Los Angeles establishment society, but also the flavour-of-the week PC crowd that Jordan had started to gather around herself. And Jordan would never be a threat to her position

again.

254

Because Jordan would owe her. Huge.

‘He’s taken her to New York,’ Jordan sobbed, ‘and he didn’t even tell me.’ Her voice rose to a little-gift wail. ‘I had to find out fromJoanne.’

His assistant. Isabelle’s mind worked swiftly over the situation. The fact that Eleanor had accompanied Tom to New York was insignificant, just a professional feather in her cap. After all, she was president of the studio, Isabelle acknowledged with her usual mixture of envy and contempt. No, the significant thing was that Tom had tried to keep it from Jordan. And Jordan already knew her position was threatened, from the intelligence Isabelle had supplied her with from her party. That was why she had, on Isabelle’s advice, thrown a fit of jealous rage and then wounded sorrow, demanding that Tom cease to socialize with Eleanor. He’d denied it, of course, but according to Isabelle’s spies at Artemis he had been pretty clinical with Eleanor of late.

Evidently that time had come to an end, and so would Jordan’s marriage, if she didn’t move fast.

Tom had concealed Eleanor’s presence on this trip from his wife. That was a major danger signal. Isabelle was relieved that at least the silly little tramp had had the good sense to call her about it.

‘I know, dear,’ she said, calmly but-firmly. ‘And you know what you have to do now, don’t you?’

‘But who knows how long that would take?’ Jordan sobbed.

‘Sometimes we have to anticipate, problems, Jordan,’ said Isabelle with authority, ‘and sometimes we have to be pro-active in solving them. Now, I shall tell you what to do, and I want no arguments.’

‘But it’ll ruin my looks,’ Jordan wept.

‘Not if you’re careful,’ Isabelle told her. ‘And at any rate, dear, you may be out of options at this point.’ She crossed over to the mantelpiece and patted her prot6ge soothingly

on the shoulder. ‘You have to do it, Jordan, and you have

to do it now. Trust me. It’s the only way.’

Tom and Eleanor arrived back at the hotel around eleven. They had taken tea, gone for a walk and then gone to see a

movie.

‘Are you kidding?’ Eleanor asked, amazed, when Tom suggested it.

‘No!’ he said, grinning. ‘Don’t you want to? I mean, when was the last time you paid to see a movie, in a theatre, with popcorn, like everyone else?’

‘Uh, nineteen seventy-eight?’ guessed Eleanor.

‘Right! We should do this, it would be great market research.’ Tom warmed to the theme. ‘We can charge our

‘ tickets back to Accounts as a business expense.’

‘I always liked the previews best.’ Eleanor adSpted a heavy mafioso tone. ‘And now. PAR.AMOUNT PICTURES presents…’

‘ExactlyI Come on, let’s go,’ Goldman urged, and they wound up in some little cinema offBroadway, watching a rerun of Dazed and Confused with a jumbo bucket of popcorn ‘and two huge Coca-Colas.

‘It was a great movie,’ Goldman said, as they finally walked into the Victrix’s blue marble lobby. ‘Although you seemed to be enjoying it more than me.’

Eleanor shrugged. ‘What can I tell you? I was sixteen in nineteen seventy-four. I lived all that stuff.’

Tom looked at her. ‘You smoked dope?’

‘Didn’t everybody?’

Goldman shook his head, laughing. ‘It doesn’t compute, babe. Eleanor Marshall with a reefer?’