Authors: Jacqueline Susann

Tags: #Fiction, #Literary

The Love Machine (70 page)

Gregory listened apathetically. Then he said, “Judith, I’m sixtytwo. The stock has never been higher—it’s going to go two-for-one next month. The network has never been in better shape. And I don’t intend to tamper with success. To tell you the truth, I kind of like the idea of checking in, finding everything is going well and slipping off to play golf or go to the track.”

“And what am I supposed to do while you go to the track—sit home all day? And you’re tired at night. I’m dying to go somewhere.”

“I thought you were busy with your charities. Seems you’ve been happy enough these past weeks.”

She avoided his eyes. “How many charity luncheons can I go to?” (She hadn’t been to any.) “I can’t keep doing that. I’ve forced myself to make charity dates for cocktails, but that’s all over—people are beginning to wonder whether my name means that much on a patron list! They never see us anywhere. I’m embarrassed to admit we’re not invited to all the ‘in’ parties.”

“Haven’t you had your fill of that? The same people at every party, the women all wearing name gowns to prove something to the other women?”

“No—I
like
going out.”

“Well, I think it’s a big bore. I thought you were finally getting some sense these last few weeks. It’s been relaxing staying in. Now you want me to fire Robin Stone because he’s invited to parties instead of us. Judith, you’re acting childish.”

“I’m not sixty-two and impotent!” she shouted.

He walked out of the room. She sat very still. Then the tears slid down her nice new tight face. Oh God, she moaned to herself.
She had hurt Gregory. And for what? For Robin Stone, that’s what! She ran into her bedroom and flung herself across the bed. Oh God, Robin was gone! He had intentionally let himself be photographed with that girl. He had walked out on her—on all her dreams. She’d never hold him in her arms again, never feel his body against her own… . Her sobs came out dry and harsh. Suddenly she felt her head being stroked—Gregory was sitting beside her. “Don’t cry, honey, I’m not mad. I know you didn’t mean it.”

She turned and clung to him. “Oh, Gregory, I do love you.”

“I know you do, and just let me get my sea legs back. I’m not ready yet to tear into the aggravation of running a network. We’ll go to Palm Beach this winter. We’ll have fun—I promise you.”

She nodded slowly. “And, Greg, you’re not impotent …”

Judith made a determined effort to reactivate her social life, but she met with complete failure. Her frustration and anger almost eased the pain she felt about Robin. But there wasn’t a night that she didn’t stare at her phone and recall all the wonderful nights when she had been able to call him and whisper endearments. The memory would make her dissolve in tears and hug the pillow to muffle her sobs.

She decided to go to Palm Beach before Christmas. She didn’t dare give her usual eggnog party—everyone was going to Acapulco, the Bahamas, or to parties given by the new hostesses who suddenly seemed to dominate the social scene.

She thought about Robin with a mixture of hate and desire. And when she reached Palm Beach she sat listlessly on the patio, played solitaire and tortured herself envisioning him making love to some young and beautiful girl.

But there weren’t any beautiful girls in Robin’s life. He worked ten hours a day, and kept abreast of the competition on the other networks. Dip’s show was slated for February. Each day he checked with Robin. “Want any action, buddy boy?” Sometimes he allowed Dip to trail him to the Lancer Bar. And sometimes at ten o’clock when the walls would close in on him, he’d call Dip. “Meet me in front of my building. I want to walk.”

“Pal, it’s twenty-eight degrees, and I’m in bed.”

“Are you meeting me?”

“Okay, give me ten minutes to dress.”

When Dip wasn’t “on call” to Robin, he sat around Danny’s with the agents fawning over him. Sure, he’d see what he could do for them—Robin Stone never bought a show without consulting him. Dip reveled in his new power. He got back at every agent who had snubbed him by telling one and all that none of their clients would ever appear on IBC. And most of them actually believed he had that kind of power over Robin Stone. As one agent put it, “A man will do anything for the man he loves.”

Oddly enough, it was Dan who fought those rumors. He laughed openly at the suggestion of homosexuality between the two men. It wasn’t love Dip Nelson was giving Robin, he’d explain: it was cash—a nice healthy kickback.

The rumors reached Gregory in Palm Beach. When he saw Danton Miller’s new show with a separate frame for Dip Nelson as producer, he called Cliff Dorne.

“The show is pretty good,” Gregory said. “But when that hambone of an actor who couldn’t produce his way to the men’s room winds up with billing there’s got to be something to the gossip. I don’t believe the fag stuff—but there has to be a kickback involved.”

“I’ve gone over the contracts carefully,” Cliff said wearily. “If there is any kickback, it’s well concealed. I came right out and asked Robin how come he bought a pilot from Dip Nelson, and he said, ‘Cliff, if
you
have a pilot that’s any good, I’ll even buy one from you!’”

Gregory hung up. Judith was sitting with him on the patio during the conversation. “Well, what are you going to do?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Right now, I’m going to play eighteen holes of golf.”

Nothing seemed to be able to stop Robin Stone.
Life
magazine did a story on him, without his cooperation. They drew from
opinions of people who worked with him and girls he had dated. One airline stewardess claimed he really was the Love Machine. A model said he was the most romantic man she had ever known. An aspiring actress said he was a big zero. Maggie Stewart was quoted as saying, “No comment.” The publicity snowballed, but Robin ignored it. He went to movies with Dip, occasionally met Jerry at the Lancer Bar, ate solitary dinners at the Steak Place, but most of all he worked.

It was Jerry who brought Gregory’s growing antagonism to Robin’s attention. They were standing at the Lancer Bar, and Jerry said, “How often do you consult Gregory on shows that you buy?”

“Never,” Robin said. “There hasn’t been any need to. Right now I’m going through the pilots for the next mid-season dropouts. I’ll invite him to view the ones I’ve selected.”

“That’s big of you,” Jerry said.

Robin didn’t answer. He gave the ice in his drink his total concentration.

“He did give you your chance,” Jerry persisted. “If you want to stay where you are, I’d advise you to pretend to ask his advice now and then.”

“I suppose it’s known as Robin Stone’s network now,” Robin said slowly.

“Yes, it is.”

Robin smiled. “Then let Gregory take it away from me.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning that I don’t give a damn. I didn’t go after the network—but now that I’ve got it, I’m not handing it back to Gregory on a silver platter. Let him come after me, let him fight me to get it back.”

Jerry looked at him oddly. “Know something? Someone said you have a death wish. I think it’s true.”

Robin laughed. “You go to your couch and I’ll go to mine.”

By April the fall lineup was set. Robin was leaving his office when Dip Nelson came crashing in. “Listen, Pauli’s winding up her road tour. She gets into New York tomorrow. I got a great idea I haven’t discussed with Dan yet. Instead of using a different girl on the show each week, let’s use Pauli, make her a permanent
character. How does that grab you?”

“It doesn’t.” Robin sat down and with a rare show of tolerance said, “Look, Dip. Let’s not fool around with a successful format. Pauli can have her pick of any Broadway musical—Ike Ryan is dying to get her for his new show next season.”

“But Pauli
belongs
on TV.”

“Look, worry about your own career. One television show doesn’t last forever. You should be finding new properties. Dan Miller has a new idea for a pilot that sounds sensational.”

Dip’s eyes went dark. “You’re kidding! That dirty bastard! Sneaking behind my back. We got a deal—we go halves on everything.”

“Have you got it in writing?”

“No, we got a gentleman’s agreement.”

Robin laughed. “That certainly won’t hold up with either of you.”

Dip’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll get him for this.” Then with a complete change of mood his boyish smile returned. “Hey, how’s about going to Danny’s with me? You haven’t been anywhere. People are liable to forget we’re buddies.”

Robin shook his head. “I’m leaving for the Coast tonight. I want to find a movie name to do Dan’s pilot. And Ike Ryan has a series I might buy if I can get the actor I want.”

Dip’s smile vanished. “What’s Ike got on you?”

“Meaning what?”

Dip sat on the edge of Robin’s desk and smiled. “Look, buddy, the Big Dipper
knows
how you operate. You don’t give away ice in the winter unless you’re obligated. Did you beat up another whore somewhere?”

Robin reached out and grabbed his tie. “Listen, you cheap son of a bitch—no one has anything on me, including you. If Dan Miller hadn’t come up with a good show, it wouldn’t have gotten on. I was glad you cut yourself into the action, I thought you might try for a new career. If Ike Ryan has a good show, I’ll
buy
it! But if a friend’s show slips, I’ll cancel it just as fast as any outside show. And you
remember
that!”

He released his hold on Dip. Dip smiled and straightened his tie. “What are you getting so riled up for, pal? The Big Dipper
loves you and would kill for you. Remember that—
kill
for you! You don’t come by friends like me so easy.”

Robin put in a call to Maggie as soon as he checked into the Beverly Hills Hotel.

“It’s eleven o’clock,” she said, “and whatever you want, I’m too tired to listen.”

“It’s two
A.M.
New York time,” he said. “And if I’m not too tired to talk you can listen. Besides this is business. Will you meet me for breakfast in the Loggia Room tomorrow at nine?”

“Make it eleven and I’ll think about it.”

“I have to view two pilots between ten and eleven.”

“Sorry, I don’t like being sandwiched in.”

“Maggie, this is business.”

She yawned. “Then tell me now.”

“Okay. Let’s start with this: I saw your last picture.”

Her husky laugh came fast. “You’re right—maybe it
was
my last picture.”

“It was awful. But you looked great. I want you for a new television series.”

“Why?”

“Because you just might be right for it.”

“In that case, call my agent. Maybe
he’ll
have breakfast with you. His name is Hy Mandel and he’s in the book.” Then she clicked the phone.

He spent the next ten days viewing pilots. He decided to let Maggie cool down. But he wanted to see her… . Several times he actually reached for the phone, but he resisted—he sensed they couldn’t meet, make love and part again. And he wasn’t buying matrimony.

It was one of those nights … a restless lonely night. Robin decided nothing could be lonelier than a lonely night in Los Angeles. At least in New York he could always go out and walk. But if you walked down any of the tree-lined streets in Beverly Hills, a prowl car immediately approached you. No one walked in Los Angeles. During the week, the entire city folded at ten. Of course, he could always get a girl—the Polo Lounge was loaded
with ambitious starlets and agents who were terrified of him, yet eager to catch his eye. Suddenly he was tired … fed up. Why the hell didn’t he just hand Gregory back the network, and walk out? But walk out where, and to what?

The sound of the phone broke into his thoughts. He looked at his watch. Seven thirty—too late for a business call. The operator announced Mr. Milano. For a moment it failed to register. Suddenly Robin brightened. “Put the call through,” he said eagerly.