The Dream Merchants Part 22

2.

Johnny pushed the papers away from him and looked at his watch. It was almost noon. He looked over at Jane. "Check on that call to Peter," he said. "I gotta talk to him before George comes in."

Jane picked up the phone on her desk and Johnny got up and stretched. He walked over to the window and looked out. It was raining slowly. He stood there at the window thinking.

George Pappas had done well in the last few years. There were nine theaters that carried his name and he was planning to add more. He had come to Johnny with a proposition that they form a partnership to buy up ten theaters in New York City. He would do it himself, he explained in his gentle, halting manner, only he didn't have enough money to swing it. There was this man who was sick and was almost ready to sell out. They were ten good houses spread around the city. None on Broadway, but in good locations throughout the various boroughs, and it would take a quarter of a million dollars to swing it. George would put up half if Magnum would put up the other half. They would be equal partners and George would run them.

Johnny had thought it over carefully and decided to recommend it to Peter. Borden, Fox, and Zukor owned theaters, and Johnny could see how profitably they played their own product in them. They would give their own pictures the preferred playing times, the long weekend dates; and of course they paid themselves the top prices. It worked very profitably for them, and Johnny thought it would work as well for Magnum.

Jane's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Peter will be on in a few minutes."

He turned back to his desk and sat down to wait. He hoped Peter would not run true to form this time and give him an argument on it. He smiled to himself, remembering how Peter had fought with him six years ago when he had wanted him to go into bigger pictures. But he had been right then and he felt he was right now. Peter, however, liked to argue.

Peter didn't call it arguing, though; he said he was talking a thing out. Johnny remembered some of the things Peter had talked out with Joe. Some of the ideas for pictures that Joe wanted to make and Peter didn't. To an outsider their discussion sounded as if the two men were almost ready to come to blows. Then suddenly there would come a silence. They would look at each other sheepishly, a little embarra.s.sed by the unexpected heat of their argument, and then one or the other would give in. It didn't matter which one, for when the picture was made they would be loud in their praise of each other. Each would protest that the other played the most important part in the making of the picture. But the results were good and Magnum's pictures were considered among the best in the industry.

He shrugged his shoulders philosophically. Well, if Peter balked, he thought, he was ready for him. He had acc.u.mulated quite a few statistics on the profits there were to be made from the marriage of production and exhibition.

"He's on the phone now, Johnny." Jane's voice was a little excited. The wonder of these daily and sometimes twice daily coast-to-coast calls had never ceased for her.

Johnny reached for the phone. "Let him argue-I'm ready for him," he thought. He placed the receiver against his ear and leaned back in the chair. "h.e.l.lo, Peter," he said.

"h.e.l.lo, Johnny," came the reply. Peter's voice was thin across the wire. "How are you?"

"Fine," he answered. "And you?"

"Good," Peter said. His voice seemed to carry a little better over the phone now. It was funny how the telephone seemed to emphasize Peter's slightly German accent. "Did you see Doris?" he continued. "She get there all right?"

Johnny had almost forgotten about her. "I was in the projection room when she came in," he explained almost apologetically. "But Jane met her and she's in the hotel now changing her clothes. I'm taking her to lunch."

Peter laughed. His voice was proud. "You won't recognize her, Johnny. She's a young lady now. She's grown a lot in the last few years."

The last few times Johnny had been out at the studio he hadn't seen her. She was away at a young ladies' finishing school. He added up the years in his mind. She was eighteen now.

He laughed with Peter. "I bet I won't!" he said. "I didn't realize how time flew by."

Peter's voice grew even more proud. "You wouldn't know Mark either if you saw him. He's almost as tall as I am."

Johnny was properly astonished. "No!"

"I mean it," Peter a.s.sured him. "He grows out of his clothes faster than Esther can get them for him."

"You don't say."

"Yep," Peter said. "I wouldn't believe it if I didn't see for myself." He was silent for a moment. Then his voice became more businesslike.

"Did you get the figures for last month yet?"

Johnny picked up a sheet of paper from his desk. "Yes," he answered. He read some figures rapidly from the sheet and concluded with the statement that they would net sixty thousand in profit for that month.

Peter's voice sounded contented. "If we keep up this way," he said, "we'll make over a million dollars this year."

"Easy," Johnny told him. "Last week's business was close to seventy thousand gross."

"Good," Peter said. "You're doing all right. Keep it up."

"We'll keep it up," Johnny answered. "I got that Wilson reel today." Now there was a note of pride in his voice.

"Terrific!" Already the idiom of the picture business had impressed itself on Peter's tongue.

"It will be in the Broadway theaters tonight," Johnny continued. "And at feature charges, too. When I told them it was rushed up by plane, they didn't give me any argument on its cost."

"I'd like to see it," Peter said.

"Your print will be on the train tonight," Johnny told him. "What's new out there?" He had to give Peter a chance to brag.

Peter spoke for several minutes and Johnny listened attentively. Magnum had completed several pictures and now they were editing the final picture of that season's series. As Peter came to the end of his discourse an idea struck him.

"I think I'll come to New York when we're all cleaned up here next month. I haven't been there for almost a year and Esther would like to spend Pesach with her relatives. The vacation would do her good."

Johnny smiled to himself. Peter said nothing about his own desire to visit the home office and see for himself just what was going on. "Do that," he urged. "You'll both enjoy it."

"I think I will," Peter said.

"Let me know when you've decided on the date and I'll make arrangements for you," Johnny told him.

"I'll do that," Peter said. He was silent for a second; when he spoke again, his voice was hesitant. "How do they feel about the war in New York?"

Johnny was reserved. He remembered Peter came from Germany. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Joe wants to make a picture showing how the Germans are overrunning and oppressing the people in Belgium and France and I was wondering whether it would be a good thing to do." Peter's voice was slightly embarra.s.sed. "I didn't know if a picture like that would do business."

"The sentiment here favors the Allies," Johnny answered carefully. He knew about the picture. Joe had called him to talk about it. Joe had also told him that Peter had objected to the idea. While Peter had no illusions about the land of his birth, he could not bring himself to the point of making a picture that would actually point a finger of scorn at it. But, on the other hand, word had leaked out to the trade and the newspapers that Magnum was planning to make a film about the German atrocities, and if Peter announced that the picture would not be made, he would be labeled pro-German. He pointed this out to Peter.

He could almost see Peter nodding his head as he made his points. Peter's voice was doubtful as he replied: "I guess we'll have to go ahead with it, then."

"That's about the situation," Johnny said. "It's a case of being d.a.m.ned if you do and d.a.m.ned if you don't."

Peter heaved a sigh. He knew when he was licked. "I'll tell Joe to put the script in work," he said heavily.

Johnny felt a twinge of sympathy for him. He could understand how Peter felt. He had heard him talk many times about his family and relatives in Germany. Some day he planned to go back there and visit them. "Tell Joe to take his time with it," he said quietly. "Maybe things will be settled before you're ready to start shooting."

Peter understood Johnny's consideration of his feelings. "No," he said, "there's no use stalling. We might as well get it over with." He was silent for a second, then he laughed half-ashamedly. "After all, why should I worry so much about it? I'm not a German any more. I've been an American citizen for over twenty years. I haven't seen the country since I left there more than twenty-six years ago. The people could have changed a lot since then."

"That's right," Johnny said kindly. "They must have changed since you were there."

"Sure," Peter agreed with him. But he knew better. He could still remember the Prussian officers riding disdainfully down the streets of Munich and their big black horses. The way everybody bowed to them and was afraid of them. He could still remember the conscription forays that dragged his cousins from their families when they were only seventeen years old. That was why his father had sent him to America. He was sure they hadn't changed.

"All right Johnny," he said with a funny sort of finality. "We'll make the picture." With that statement his doubts seemed to ebb away and he felt better. "Tell Doris to call us at home tonight."

"I will," Johnny answered.

"I'll be talking to you tomorrow, then," Peter said.

"Yes," Johnny said half-absentmindedly. He was still thinking of how Peter must feel about that picture. Suddenly he remembered. George-he had to have his answer today. "Peter!"

"Yes?"

"About those theaters of George's. He has to have an answer today."

"Oh, those." Peter's voice didn't sound interested and Johnny's heart went down into his boots. He couldn't argue with Peter after what they had just spoken about. "I talked to Joe and Esther about it and they all agree with me that it's a good idea. Tell him to go ahead with the deal."

Johnny picked up the statistics on his desk after he had hung up the phone and gave them to Jane. "File these," he said to her, "I won't need them after all." He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head slowly. You just couldn't figure the guy out. He never did what you expected.

3.

Doris stood in front of the mirror, an odd sense of excitement running through her. She nodded her head, pleased with what she saw. This dress was much better for her than the other she had put on first. It made her appear older, somehow more mature, than the other. She was glad it had stopped raining so she could wear it. All her other dresses made her look like a kid.

She looked at the clock on the dresser. He should be here any minute now, she thought as she put on her hat. She had been disappointed when she hadn't seen him at the train, but Jane had explained that he was tied up with getting out the Wilson newsreel and she had accepted it. She had long since become used to the continuous pressures and self-induced deadlines that motion-picture people lived by. She felt better when she was told that he would take her to lunch and would pick her up at the hotel.

There was a knock on the door. "He's here," she thought, and started to run across the large room to the door. Halfway across the room she stopped suddenly. She turned and took a last look into the mirror and then finished her walk to the door slowly. "You're acting like a child," she told herself reprovingly as she put her hand on the k.n.o.b and turned it slowly. But her heart was pounding away inside her.

It was almost as if someone else were opening the door, not her. She could see herself standing there, waiting. She could see him, the look on his face. The smile that was there when he first saw her. She could see the smile fade away as he looked at her, the look of wonder as it crossed his face, and then the smile reappearing again. Warm and admiring.

He held a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He had been prepared to see her as she had been; he had told himself that she had grown up, but inside him he hadn't believed it. He had been prepared to pick her up and swing her to him and say: "h.e.l.lo, sweetheart," as he had so many times before, but now he couldn't. He saw her standing in the doorway, then stepping back a little into the room, a tinge of color in her cheeks, her eyes warm and lively with an inner excitement, her lips trembling slightly.

He stepped into the room and gave her the flowers.

She took them silently and their hands touched. It was as if a current had flowed between them, and his fingers tingled with a sense of shock. Their hands clasped and held.

"h.e.l.lo, sweetheart," he said, his voice quiet and filled with the wonder he felt.

"h.e.l.lo, Johnny," she answered. It was the first time she had ever called him by his name without the word "Uncle" before it. She suddenly was aware that their hands were still clasped. She drew her hand back self-consciously, more color flooding into her cheeks. "I better put these in water." Her voice was low.

He watched her intently as she arranged the flowers in a vase. She was partly turned away from him, so that her profile was visible to his gaze. The burnished coppery brunette of her hair shimmering against her fair, faintly flushed face, the eyes deep set and blue, set over high cheekbones, the mouth curved with corners soft, and the thin line of her cheek falling away to a firmly rounded chin.

She turned and saw him watching her. She gave a finishing pat to the flowers. "There, isn't that better?" she asked.

He nodded his head affirmatively. He was confused. He didn't know just how to talk to this suddenly a.s.sured young woman he had just met. His voice was puzzled. "I can't believe it. You've-"

She interrupted him with a laugh. "Don't tell me you were going to say how much I've grown. If I hear that once more, I'll scream."

He laughed with her, a little embarra.s.sed at himself. "That's just what I was going to say," he confessed.

"I knew it," she said, walking over to him and standing in front of him looking up at his face. "But I can't understand why people always say it. Time won't stand still for me any more than it will for them. Of course I've grown up. You wouldn't want me to remain a child forever, would you?"

He began to feel better, more comfortable, more at ease. He looked down at her teasingly. "I don't know," he said. "When you were a kid I used to be able to pick you up and swing you in the air and kiss you and call you sweetheart, and you would laugh and we'd both think it a lot of fun. I couldn't do that now."

Her eyes were quickly grave. It was strange how quickly they could change color and grow dark. Her voice was even, though very quiet. "You could still kiss an old friend when you haven't seen her for almost four years."

He looked down at her for a moment, then bent his head toward her. She turned her face toward him. His lips met hers.

For a split second a sense of shock ran through him. Involuntarily his arms went around her waist and drew her to him. Her arms went around his neck, holding his face close to her. He could taste the wine of her warmth flowing through her body to her lips and coming to him. He could smell the faint exciting young perfume of her hair in his nostrils. He looked at her face; her eyes had closed.

The thoughts ran through his mind like lightning: "This is crazy. Wait a minute, Johnny, she may look like a woman, but she's only a kid going to school away from home for the first time. A romantic kid. Don't be a fool, Johnny!"

He drew back suddenly. She buried her face against his shoulder. For a moment he let his hand run along the side of her face and then across her hair. They stood there silently for a moment; then he spoke. His voice was as grave as hers had been. "You have grown up, sweetheart. You're too big to play games with."

She looked up at him, her eyes suddenly dancing, her voice so young. A smile curved her lips. "Have I, Johnny?"

He nodded, his face still grave. He didn't speak; his mind was still trying to answer his own shocked question: "What's happened to me?"

She walked across the room to pick up her coat. When she turned back to him, there was something inside her that was singing. "He loves me, he loves me, even if he doesn't know it yet!" Aloud she said: "Where are we going for lunch, Johnny? I'm starved."

He sat there idling over his coffee, strangely reluctant to finish it and bring this luncheon to an end. They had been there almost two hours and yet it seemed to him only a few minutes. For the first time he had been able to talk about pictures to a girl who had felt the same about them as he did. He finished telling her about how the Wilson reel had worked out.

She had listened quietly and attentively as he spoke. She could feel the urgency and intensity in him as he spoke about motion pictures. What they had done up to now, what they were capable of doing in the future. This would have been shop talk to many, but it was home talk to her. It was everyday language and living because she had heard so much of it in her own home.

But she had thought her own thoughts too. Of how he looked, the color of his hair and eyes, the shape of his face, the wide generous mouth and determined chin. The length of his body and the power of his stride. The strength in his arms as they had held her.

She was glad she had not been wrong. She had always loved him, and now she knew he loved her. It would take time for him to become aware of it. He had to accept her as grown up first, but she was willing to wait. An unknown warm contentment seeped through her as she listened to his voice. It would even be fun to watch him become aware of it. A shadow of a smile crossed her lips as she thought about it. He was so good to love.

He finished his coffee and put down the cup. A rueful smile crossed his face as he took out his watch and looked at it. "I've got to be getting back to the office," he said. "I haven't spent so much time at lunch since we opened it."

She smiled back at him. "You should do it more often. It isn't good to always work so hard."

He began to get up. "It isn't often I find I can stay away from it so long. But today I didn't even feel like going back." He lit a cigarette. "I don't know why," he added reflectively.

She smiled at him. "I know why," she thought happily. She rose from her chair. "There are days like that. Days that you don't feel like doing anything," she said.

He put her coat across her shoulders. "I'll walk you back to the hotel," he said.

They pa.s.sed the news-stand on the corner. The papers bore headlines: "Wilson Inaugurated! Pledges Peace!"

She turned to him, her voice serious. "Do you think he will keep his word, Johnny?"