Sins of Omission (43 page)

“Okay, okay.” Why was this son of a bitch always right?

Then Reuben moved in for the kill. “After the party, Sol, we'll discuss my position again. Money, bonuses, a percentage…”

“Percentage!” Sol squeaked.

Reuben hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers and rocked back and forth on his heels. “Uh-huh—of the net,” he drawled.

“Net!”
Sol sputtered, his face red and splotchy.

“Net,” Reuben said coolly. “Now, I've got things to do, and I know you want to read your press again, so I won't take up any more of your time.”

Sol cursed under his breath for a full five minutes before he returned to the columns of figures that danced before his eyes. A long while later, when the numbers were engraved in his mind, he decided he liked being the man of the hour. This goddamn town was finally going to recognize him and pay homage. He didn't mind at all that it wasn't justified homage. The fucking bastard really pulled it off. Moxie, that's all it took. Jesus!

 

The house in Benedict Canyon seethed with activity. Bebe's helpers were shuffling papers and making notes, calling out to one another as they tried to balance figures, the menu, the decorations, and the entertainment while Bebe checked and double-checked everything. Every five minutes she exploded with “This has to be perfect. This has to be exquisite. There's no room for mistakes here, girls. Now, let's go over this again.” One of the maids handed her the telephone as she started her lecture for the third time in the same hour. “Yes, yes, what is it?” she said briskly.

“Bebe, it's Daniel. Listen, I just got Reuben to get your father to up the party money. You have twenty thousand more.”

“Daniel, really!” Bebe squealed. “Are you sure? I'm already two thousand over and there's not one place I can cut. Thanks so much! Don't tell me how you did it. I saw the papers this morning. Daddy must be in heaven.”

“Everyone is happy. How's it all going?”

“Great. Just great. This town is going to talk about this party for years. You know, I've been so busy, I haven't had time to buy myself a new dress. I wanted to order a new suit for Daddy and Eli, but I…we're a family, and when we walk into the Ambassador ballroom I want us to look grand.”

“I thought you were going with Reuben. He said he was taking you.”

“What did you say?”

“Sorry, guess I put my foot in it.”

“You mean he's going to ask
me!
Daniel, did he say that? When? Oh, God, now I have to…Daniel are you sure?”

Daniel thought he'd never heard such happiness. “I've got to go now, Bebe, but yes, that's what he said. Keep it under your hat and act surprised, okay?”

“Sure. Oh, thank you, Daniel,” she cried happily. “Can you imagine, me walking into that ballroom on his arm? Oh, God, I think I'm going to faint.”

Bebe bordered on delirium when she instructed her helpers to carry on because she had something to do. Her face flushed with happiness, she ran up the steps to her room. Going to the party with her father and Eli called for one kind of dress, the kind she'd have to go out and buy. Going with Reuben called for something else entirely, and she had that something else in a tissue-wrapped box, a French creation she'd been saving for a special occasion. There was nothing more special than going to this party with Reuben. Her hands shook as she plucked the satiny box from its nest in her bottom drawer. Eyes round with pleasure, she drew in her breath the way she had the first time she'd set eyes on the dress. It was silver satin, with a shell-pink overlay that was seeded with pearls and sparkly sequins. She loved the diamond-shaped hem studded with glittering sequins. The overhead light in the Ambassador ballroom would assure that she sparkled all night long. Her evening bag and headband were the same shell pink seeded with the tiniest pearls she'd ever seen. Even her shoes, heels but not too high, were silver satin, but with a delicate shell-pink pattern. In this outfit she would be a vision of loveliness—maybe she'd even boggle Reuben's mind for the first few minutes. Reuben, Reuben, if you only knew how much I care for you. I can forget the past if you can. You don't need Mickey. You need me, why can't you see it? We are going to look so good together. We'll be the handsomest couple there. All of Hollywood will see us and know you're
mine.
Her touch was almost reverent when she replaced the tissue paper over the sparkling dress.

She made her way back downstairs to the busy dining room, humming softly. Lord, there was so much to do! Instead of a hundred white doves in gilded cages, she could order five hundred now. And she could upgrade the champagne. Instead of a red satin carpet runner, she could order red velvet. More greenery, too, to show off the lavender orchids to better advantage. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Maybe she should cancel the white linen tablecloths and ask for lavender eyelet with a white organdy overlay. Yes, that was a better idea, she decided, and picked up the phone. Reuben was going to be so elated and…and grateful when he saw the result of her efforts. So very, very grateful.

 

The studio was working overtime in an effort to get as many Red Ruby and Dolly Darling segments in the can as possible. Reuben's hope was that the public would remain loyal to Red and Dolly, but he knew the film industry was fickle. He also knew that every other studio was making a valiant effort to come up with their own versions of Red and Dolly, which meant he had to stay three jumps ahead of them. It was crucial that he come up with something new just as they were jumping in with both feet. That way every imitation they rushed to offer the public would be passé by the time it came out.

In deference to Sol and his ego, Reuben pretended he hadn't read the paper when he arrived at the office. Thus he exuded just the right amount of enthusiasm when Sol read the columns, word by word, that applied to Red and Dolly. By the time Sol started to calculate the box office receipts, he already had them figured out in his head.

There was no doubt about it, he was a winner.

Reuben found himself at loose ends this particular morning as he waited for a meeting he'd scheduled with Daniel. The only other thing on his agenda for the day was to call Bebe and invite her to the party. With a glance at his closed door, he quickly lifted the desk blotter and withdrew the winemaker's calendar. It was frayed and wrinkled. He smoothed it out on his blotter and stared at it the way he did almost every day before he left the office. His index finger traced the months, and from long habit he recited his litany of winemaking. When he reached the month of December, he found himself wiping his eyes. And then, as always, he got angry with himself and replaced the calendar under the blotter. Time to call Bebe and get it over with. Still, he argued with himself for a full five minutes before he picked up the phone with a reluctant sigh. He announced himself to the maid, then asked for Bebe. “It's Reuben, Bebe,” he said when she came on the phone. “I've been meaning to call you, but studio business got ahead of my good intentions. I'd like to take you to the party if you don't have a date.”

“I'd like that very much, Reuben. Thank you for asking me. I was going to go with Daddy and Eli. There wasn't…anyone else I wanted to ask,” she said truthfully.

“How are the preparations going?” he asked. “Is the money holding up?”

“I was over budget till you added to it. It seems as the days go on this party is getting more and more important, and I do want it to be just right. You and Daddy will be proud.”

Bebe smiled as she hung up the phone, then pushed Reuben from her thoughts and returned to the task at hand, assigning the waiters and waitresses, all studio hopefuls, to different stations. The waitresses, each one prettier than the next and with incredibly long legs, would be wearing a short midthigh ruffled skirt with a stiff white crinoline underneath and ruffled panties like the Sugar and Spice girls. The waiters would be attired in swishing black capes lined in red satin with low-brimmed buccaneer hats like the one Red Ruby wore. All thanks to wardrobe.

Last night, late, after the studio had closed, she'd gone to Lot 5 and watched the skit Damian and Lester had agreed to put on as part of the evening's entertainment. Jane Perkins had also agreed to do a short skit, both condensed versions of unreleased films. It had taken three full days for the prop department to construct a portable stage complete with a curtain that swooshed across it.

It was going to be a wonderful evening. Simply wonderful.

The day of “The Party,” as the newspapers referred to it, the real Bebe Rosen was up at dawn, bathed and dressed and on her way to the Ambassador Hotel. She sailed through the hotel lobby like the Queen Mother on a state visit. Her voice, however, was that of a commanding general as she barked out orders and shouted for coffee, running her pencil down the list of things to be done before ten
A.M
. Wardrobe had promised the waiters' and waitresses' uniforms for nine o'clock; the would-be hopefuls were to arrive at nine for a quick dress rehearsal and to be given their assigned stations for the evening. Alert to every detail, she cast a critical eye over the hotel staff setting up the buffet tables at the far end of the room. Lavender was a wise choice, soft and delicate, the perfect complement for the orchids that would find their way to designated spots an hour before the start of the party. For now they were in boxes of ice in the hotel kitchen, wrapped in waxy tissue.

Bebe gulped her coffee in between screams of disapproval when she noticed wrinkles in the eyelet table skirts. “Have Housekeeping get those wrinkles out now, and I don't want to see any in the overlay, either. You're making more work for yourselves. Do it right the first time! I don't have all day. I see marks on the silver. I told you I wanted it polished and I
mean
polished,” she shouted to someone else.

“What do you mean, the revolving bandstand is stuck! Unstick it. You were supposed to have that checked yesterday!” she bellowed in the voice of a truck driver. “Do I have to do it myself?”

The white doves in their gilded cages arrived at noon just as Bebe was about to throw a tantrum over a hundred pounds of lobster she said smelled funny. Assurances that all fish smelled funny in large quantities made her roll her eyes. Back in the ballroom she was met with a loud drumming sound she'd never heard before. The workers had all stopped what they were doing, silly expressions on their faces. The doves were billing and cooing, either with pleasure or displeasure, Bebe couldn't determine.

“Okay, okay, maybe this was a mistake,” she shouted over the sound of the birds. “Wait, I have an idea. Someone get a phonograph and some records.”

Three hours later they finally hit on the right piece—Brahms' “Lullaby”—to soothe the excited birds. Bebe's head was pounding as she informed her crew of workers that they did indeed need her. What would they have done if she hadn't been there? “I'm going home now, you all know what has to be done.” Before she left, she issued her final parting shot, one she'd held over everyone's head for days: “You foul this up and none of you will get your picture in the paper! Keep playing that record, and if it wears out, get another one.” She absolutely would not think about what would happen when the first guests arrived and the record had to be turned off. How could she have been so stupid? The man at the aviary hadn't said a word about the noise doves made. Then a second horrible thought struck her. What if bird shit came out of the cages, leaked somehow onto the guests? “Oh, my God,” she muttered. Then she laughed, so hard she had to pull the car over to the side of the road as she pictured a bird dropping its poop on one of the men's black tuxedos or down some woman's cleavage. She was still laughing helplessly when she ground the roadster to a screeching halt outside her father's house. Peals of laughter followed her up the stairs as she headed for the bathroom to draw her bath. When it was time for the aviary attendants to release the birds, she hoped she would be in the ladies' room. But she didn't want to miss the flight and the thousand pounds of white rose petals that would drop at the same time. Well, it was out of her hands now. Sighing, she slipped deeper into the steamy bath.

Bebe was powdered, perfumed, coiffed, and dressed an hour before Reuben was due to pick her up. Nervous and jittery, she tried without success to quiet the fluttering of her heart. Now she knew how the poor birds felt in their cages. Hmm, maybe the bright overhead lights were making them bill and coo so loudly. Without stopping to think, she called the hotel and asked to be put through to the ballroom. “Lower the lights or change the bulbs,” she told the workman who answered. “That might quiet the damn doves.”

“We already did that,” he responded. “They're quiet now and sound asleep.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice. Bebe slammed the phone back onto the cradle.

When Eli came up from behind and touched her on the shoulder, she jumped a foot. “Eli! Don't do that!”

“I didn't know you were so jumpy,” Eli apologized. “Sis, you look like a knockout. You'll be the prettiest one there. That's some dress!” he said approvingly.

“Thanks,” Bebe said distractedly. “You look pretty good, too. You look good in a tux. Where's Daddy?”

“Right here,” Sol said, joining them. At the sight of his baby girl he rolled his eyes and slapped at his forehead. “Your brother's right, you're gonna knock 'em dead tonight. I hope Tarz appreciates you.”

“I hope so, too. Are you waiting for us or are you going to go on ahead?”

“We're going on ahead. I want to be the first one to see what you've cooked up over there. I know you did a wonderful job, honey. You certainly worked hard enough. Maybe we should put you on the payroll.”

“No thanks, Daddy, this was enough for me,” Bebe said, smiling nervously.