Welcome to the World, Baby Girl! (9 page)

After the agent left, Wallace had to laugh to himself. The decision to hire her had been made a week before, based on her tapes. They had been head and shoulders above the rest. But he liked to see people cower. Of course, she hadn’t, she had thrown it right back in his face. Quite a change from the usual sweaty-palmed types that crawled in and out of his office all day. She just might have what he was looking for.
If
she was smart enough to do what she was told.

Sandy ran back to his office and called Dena at the hotel. She picked up.

“It’s Sandy. Dena, are you sitting down?”

Dena started to apologize. “Sandy, I’m so sorry. I know that was a stupid thing to do. What can I say, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“Dena.”

“I know you are disappointed. I am, too, believe me. But I would rather be a hostess in a pancake house before I’d let someone treat me like I was a … a nothing.”

“Dena, listen!”

“My mother may not have had much money, but she did not raise me to be insulted by some puffed-up little mutant. Who does he think he is?”

“Dena, are you finished?”

“Yes.”

“You got the job.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure that I did.… The only thing I regret—and this is because I’m a lady—that I did not tell him what he could do with—”

“Dena,
listen
to me. I am not kidding. He liked your tapes. You got the job. He’s starting you at a pretty low salary … but it means you’re in.”

“And I’ll tell you something else, I wouldn’t work with that man for a million dollars. How did he even get into television?”

“OK, Dena, so he is an obnoxious, disgusting pig. Just don’t take
it so personally. Believe me, he treats everybody like a piece of dirt. The point is, you got the job.”

There was a pause. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, he wants you to go in tomorrow and talk to him—”

“You are kidding,” she said.

“No, I’m telling you he liked your tapes. He thinks you have something.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“No joke.”

“No.”

“Oh. Well.” There was another pause. “How much are they going to pay me?”

“Like I said, it’s a little low to start … but—”

“How much?”

“Fifty thousand.”

“I don’t know, Sandy. I’ll have to think it over. I’ll call you back.”

Sandy sat with the phone in his hand. He could
not
believe what he had just heard. He put the phone down and threw his hands up in the air and said to the ceiling, “She’s offered the best shot in New York and she’s got to think it over?”

Ten minutes later she called back. “Sandy, it’s Dena.”

He tried to sound calm. “Yes, have you thought about it?”

“Yes, I have. And Sandy, I would have taken fifty thousand and been glad to get it. But that man insulted me and now they’re going to have to pay me twice as much.”

Sandy groaned. “Oh, Dena, don’t do this to me. I have a weak heart. Please … please … my nerves. Fifty thousand is not a terrible offer.”

“It’s not the money, it’s the principle of the thing.”

“Dena, you can’t afford principles now. Wait until you’re a star. Then you can have all the principles you want. Trust me, now is not the time to make a stand. You don’t have anything to stand on yet.”

“Sandy, if I don’t do it now, I never will. I can’t let this man treat me like dirt and get away with it. Besides, I don’t think I could live with myself if I took it for less than I’m worth.”

“Dena … who’s gonna know how much you are making—you and me and some accountant in a basement somewhere. Please.”

“I’ll know.”

“Dena, listen to me. I’m the agent. I’m the one who should be convincing you to ask for more money, not the other way around, and I’m telling you, take the money.”

Sandy talked to her for twenty more minutes, but she would not back down. Before she hung up she added, “And Sandy, I want you to
tell
him the reason I want more money.”

Sandy said, “I thought you liked Bea.”

“I do. Why?”

“Then why are you trying to make a widow out of her? Ira is going to kill me if I call him with this.”

“Well, then, I’ll call him if you want me to. I’m not scared of him.”

“No, no, I’ll call. I would rather be attacked by a pack of wild dogs, but I’ll call.”

Sandy held his breath as he dialed Ira Wallace’s office. He was put on hold for five minutes and then heard Wallace’s welcoming voice.

“Yeah?”

“Uh, Mr. Wallace. This is Sandy Cooper.”

“What do you want?”

“Well, we have a small problem … on the salary.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“On the Dena Nordstrom situation.”

“Yeah, come on, cut to the chase. What?”

“That is, she feels she needs a little more, being that New York is so expensive and all.”

“Are you telling me that your goddamn crazy client wants a raise before she even starts? Have you lost your mind? How much more does she want, for Christ sakes?”

Sandy took a deep breath. “She wants a hundred a year.”

Wallace yelled, “Good-bye, buster!” and slammed the phone down in his ear.

Sandy sat by the phone all day, hoping against hope that Wallace would call him back.

Wallace waited for Sandy to call him back.

At four-thirty that afternoon Sandy called Dena again and begged her to reconsider but she would not.

At 6:05 Sandy answered the phone. Wallace was on the other end. “OK, you little putz, seventy-five, take it or leave it. You have five minutes!”

Sandy called Dena immediately and started talking fast. “Dena, it’s me. Before you say anything, listen to me. I want you to think about what you are doing. Don’t think local … think about where it can
lead.
Remember, you do well and one day you’ve got a shot at network, OK?”

“OK,” said Dena, “I’m listening.”

“I can’t believe it but he called back with another offer. But promise me your—”

“How much did he come up with?”

“Seventy-five, take it or leave it … but think about your—”

“I’ll take it.”

“What?”

“I said fine, I’ll take it.”

“You’ll take it? Just like that? Oh, my nerves. You put me through a heart attack which I haven’t had time to have yet. I’ll call you right back.”

Sandy called and didn’t bother to say hello. “Dena, it’s OK. Do you know how nervous I’ve been all day?”

“You think you were nervous? I’ve been throwing up since noon.”

“Do you know how close we came to losing this deal? I have to be honest with you—I never thought he would call back.”

Dena laughed. “Neither did I.”

“You lucked out this time. But promise me not to play any more Russian roulette with your career, OK?”

Dena giggled again. “OK, I promise.”

“Hold on. I’m calling Bea on the other line. She’s been lighting candles all day.”

Dena waited until he came back on the phone. “Bea says congratulations. And she also informed me that I’m taking you two out to dinner. Where do you want to go? You pick.”

“Twenty-One,” Dena said.

“The Twenty-One Club?”

“Yes, let’s go there.”

“I doubt we can get in. It’s like a private club or something. Anyway, we can’t get reservations this late. What about Sardi’s?”

“We already have reservations at Twenty-One.”

Sandy was taken aback. “How did you manage that?”

“Oh, I have a friend here. I told him it was a celebration dinner.”

“How did you know we would have something to celebrate?”

Dena laughed. “I didn’t. Either way, I always wanted to go to Twenty-One for dinner.”

“You’re in New York for twenty-four hours and you already have a friend?”

“Well, actually it’s a new friend I met yesterday on the airplane. He said if I ever needed a favor to call, so I did.”

When Sandy hung up he was still amazed. Here he had lived in Manhattan all his life, and on her first night in town Dena was taking him places he’d never been before. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder how a nice person like her would fare in New York. She might do just fine. He hoped so. But he also knew that New York was a tough town, full of ruthless types waiting to rip you to shreds if they could. Success here could be brutal. He glanced over at the headline on the front page of the local news rag his secretary had put on his desk earlier. These days being nice or even distinguished was no protection anymore. One slip and your reputation is ruined forever. Look what had just happened to Arthur Rosemond. Poor guy.

Arthur Rosemond was born in Norway and at seventeen had become one of the leaders of the underground movement during WWII. Arrested in 1942, he was sent to a German war camp but managed to escape two years later. After the war, he came to America and received a master’s in political science from Georgetown University and by age thirty-nine, he had written three books, served four years as special adviser to the secretary of state, and was only forty-two years old when appointed to his post at the United Nations, where he had been the spearhead in major peace negotiations for the past eleven years, traveling widely. Two years before he had shared the Nobel peace prize for his efforts.

In his personal life, Rosemond was considered somewhat unusual, because although happily married, he had as many women friends as he did men. He genuinely liked the company of women and he found their particular insights and observations about people helpful. One such friend was Pamela Lathrope. They had been good friends while she had been married and remained so after her divorce. Rosemond believed she had one of the keenest minds he had ever come across and he always asked for her advice whenever a particularly difficult negotiation was going on. They would often have
dinner together to discuss it, sometimes with his wife or friends or sometimes just the two of them. Tonight was just such an occasion. He was having a hard time with the new man from France. He needed his support on several upcoming issues and was getting nowhere. He had enjoyed a wonderful working and social relationship with the previous French ambassador but this new man was a bird of a different feather.

Arthur needed to get together with him in the right social situation without dozens of people around so he could get a handle on what this guy was about, and he had called Pamela to help him out. Pamela was famous for her dinner parties and most people did not turn down an invitation. Like most, the French diplomat did not say no. It was to be just Arthur and his wife, Beverly; the ambassador and his wife; and Pamela. Arthur was anxious for Pamela to spend a little time observing up close. She was always able to see a person clearly and size him up much more precisely than he ever could. Three hours before the party, Arthur’s wife called Pamela on the phone.

“Pam, it’s me, Beverly. Listen, would you take a gun and shoot me if I didn’t come tonight?”

“Of course not.”

“I hate to call this late, but I am just walking on my knees, I am so tired. I’ve been out in the yard working with the gardeners since seven o’clock this morning. Wouldn’t you know that this would be the day they would show up with all the new plantings; anyway, I’m filthy dirty, and by the time I take a bath, dress, and come all the way in, I’ll be late anyway. So … do you think Arthur will be very upset?”