LINDA GAIL’S AGENT was Morton Lutz and had been introduced to her by Roy Wiseheart. Roy said “Moe” was a rare man in Hollywood and would not deceive or cheat her. He lived in Pasadena with his wife and five children and looked like a pink whale stuffed inside a three-piece suit with a red boutonniere in the lapel. When he smiled, which was most of the time, his eyes disappeared inside his face. Moe told Linda Gail she was a “nice goil.” They were standing in the garden outside the Beverly Hills Hotel, waiting to go inside and sign a contract whose content made Linda Gail’s head swim.
“I’m nervous,” she said.
“What’s to be nervous?” he asked.
“I don’t understand how the contract works. I’m being sold to Warner Brothers?”
“Something is happening here that doesn’t happen often,” he replied. “It’s all because of Roy Wiseheart. Castle Productions is letting you go to a studio that is going to pay you ninety thousand dollars a year. Warner Brothers is very happy to do that. What does that tell you?”
“I don’t know.”
“It tells you if you belong to a church, put something extra in the basket.”
“I feel funny calling you Moe.”
“If you don’t call me Moe, I won’t know who you’re talking to. Where would that leave us?”
“I’m getting a break because of Roy?”
“Call it that. Castle is letting you go because of him. The money Warner Brothers is paying for your contract is not a break and not connected to him. That’s the kind of money you’re worth. This bunch doesn’t spend money to give people breaks or make them feel good. The money gets spent to make more money.”
There was a newspaper folded in his coat pocket. He moved into the shade under a palm tree and put on his reading glasses. “You’re in Louella Parsons’s column this morning,” he said.
“I don’t believe you.”
“This is what she says: ‘Linda Gail Pine is the freshest and brightest thing since the invention of flowers and sunshine.’” He lowered the newspaper. “You’re so innocent, butterflies light on your hair. Look.” He used the back of his hand to lift a Mourning Cloak butterfly off her shoulder. He set it down in a flowerbed. “You ready to go inside?”
“What do I say?”
“Nothing. You’ll go home rich. In a week you’ll be famous. After that, who knows?”
“What’s that mean?”
“We’ll talk,” he said.
She thought he was about to make another joke. But he didn’t. And his smile had disappeared.
The signing of the contracts inside the meeting room was formal and perfunctory; it reminded her of people meeting at a bus stop and exchanging pleasantries and disappearing ten minutes later into their own lives.
She had lunch with Moe in the dining room. Through the window, she could see the golf course and the swimming pool and the shade trees and the cottages where the most famous celebrities in the world stayed. “You waiting for Roy?” he asked.
“Yes, he said he would meet us.”
“He called and said he got tied up. I forgot to tell you.”
“Oh,” she said.
“It’s just as well.”
“Why?”
“Because I got to tell you a couple of things,” he said. “These are not things meant to offend you. So when I say them, they are not directed at you. These are the rules that apply to everybody out here. It doesn’t matter who. You can do almost anything you want in this town, and that means sleep with almost anybody you want to, but you got to be careful. You know what John Huston always says? You got to respect your audience. That means you got to look and act like the sweet goil that lives next door. The goil next door doesn’t wake up in the morning not remembering where she left her panties.”
“I’d prefer you didn’t talk to me like that.”
“I’m not saying these things about you. I’m talking about the rules. There are two things out here you don’t go near. Narcotics is one. For you I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. You know what the other one is, don’t you?”
“No,” she replied.