“Don wants you out of the studio. Ari’s planning to loan you out to MGM and Columbia.”
“And then what?”
“And then you’re on your own.”
“Well, that’s fine. I can do that. Celia’s freelance. I’ll get an agent, like her.”
“You can,” Harry said. “And I think you should try, but . . .”
“But what?”
“Don wants Ari to blackball you from getting an Oscar nod, and Ari’s agreeing to it. I think he’s gonna loan you out and purposefully put you in flops.”
“He can’t do that.”
“He can. And he will, because Don’s the goose that laid the golden egg. The studios are all hurting. People aren’t going to the movies as much; they are waiting for the next episode of Gunsmoke. Sunset’s been in decline from the minute we were forced to sell off our theaters. We’re staying afloat because of stars like Don.”
“And stars like me.”
Harry nodded. “But—and I’m sorry to say it, but I think it’s important that you see the big picture—Don’s worth a lot more asses in the seats than you are.”
I felt about two inches tall. “That hurts.”
“I know,” Harry said. “And I’m sorry.”
The water in the bathroom turned off, and I heard Celia step out of the shower. There was a breeze coming in from the window. I wanted to shut it, but I didn’t move. “So that’s it. If Don doesn’t want me, no one does.”
“If Don doesn’t want you, he doesn’t want anyone else to have you. I realize it’s a subtle difference, but . . .”
“But it is vaguely reassuring.”
“Good.”
“So that’s his play? Don ruins my life and buys my silence with a house and less than a million dollars?”
“That’s a lot of money,” Harry said, as if it mattered, as if it helped.
“You know I don’t care about money,” I said. “At least, not primarily.”
“I know.”
Celia came out of the bathroom in a robe, her hair wet and straight. “Oh, hi, Harry,” she said. “I’ll just be a minute.”
“No need to hurry on my account,” he said. “I was just leaving.”
Celia smiled and walked into the bedroom.
“Thank you for bringing it,” I said.
Harry nodded.
“I did it once, I can do it again,” I said to him as we walked to the door. “I can build the whole thing back up from scratch.”
“I have never doubted that you could do a single thing you put your mind to.” Harry put his hand on the doorknob, ready to go. “I’d like it if . . . I hope that we can still be friends, Evelyn. That we can still—”
“Oh, shut up,” I said. “We’re best friends. Who may or may not tell each other everything. That doesn’t change. You still love me, right? Even though I’m about to be on the outs?”
“I do.”