Swimming to Catalina

7

Stone pulled up at the gate to Vance Calder’s house and rolled down the window. An armed, uniformed security guard approached.

“Good evening, sir,” he said. “Your name?”

“Barrington.”

“Go right in, Mr. Barrington.” The gate slid open.

Stone drove some distance up a winding drive, and it was not until he had crested a little hill that he saw the house. It was of white stucco, in the Spanish style, with a tiled roof A valet took charge of the car, and Stone walked through the open double doors into a broad tiled hallway that ran straight through the house. A man who looked Filipino, dressed in a white jacket, approached.

“Mr. Barrington?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so; I know all the other guests. Will you come this way, please?”

Stone followed him into a very large living room where at least a dozen couples were chatting. He had worn a tan tropical suit and a necktie, and he was glad, because everyone he saw was, for L.A., very dressed. Vance came toward him from the other end of the room, wearing a white linen suit. Stone had always wanted such a suit, but he didn’t have the nerve to wear one in New York.

“Good evening, Stone,” Calder said, grasping his hand warmly, “and welcome to the cast ofOut of Court. ”

“Is that what the picture is called?”

“That’s right; everyone is talking about your test. Come on and meet some people.”

Stone followed Vance around the room, greeting other guests. Half of them looked or sounded familiar from the papers and television-some were actors, others were producers or directors. He spotted Betty Southard at the other end of the room, talking to another woman.

“Stone,” Vance said, “I’d particularly like you to meet my good friend David Sturmack.”

“How do you do?” Stone asked. He remembered that Vance had said that Sturmack was one of the most powerful men in L.A.

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Stone,” Sturmack said. “I’ve heard a great deal about you from Vance and Lou.” He was a tall man in his mid-sixties, slim, dressed in beautifully cut but conservative clothes. He turned to an elegant blonde woman next to him who was a good twenty years younger. “This is my wife, Barbara. Barbara, this is Stone Barrington.”

“Oh, hello,” she nearly gushed. “You’re Vance’s and Arrington’s friend from New York. I read about your Caribbean case in the papers. I’m so sorry about the way it turned out.”

“Thank you,” Stone replied, “I’m glad to meet you, Barbara.”

Louis Regenstein joined the group. “Everyone’s talking about your test this afternoon, Stone,” he said.

“Oh,” Stone said, uncomfortable. Why the hell was everyone talking about it? A waiter took Stone’s order for a drink, and everyone chatted amiably for a few minutes. Stone wanted very much to get Vance alone for a moment to ask him why he wanted him in his picture, but his host was busy with his guests. Someone gently took hold of Stone’s elbow and turned him a hundred and eighty degrees. He was faced with a deeply suntanned man of forty who took his hand, squeezed it, and began shaking it, slowly, as he talked.

“Stone, I’m Fred Swims of the SBC Agency. You need an agent, and I’d like very much to be the man.”

“An agent?” Stone asked, nonplussed.

“I saw your test, and I understand why everyone is so excited about it. It’s the best test, bar none, I’ve ever seen.”

“Excuse me, but I’m baffled. It’s only been what, four hours, since we did that thing.”

“Good news travels fast in this town,” Swims said. “Let me tell you a little about us: we’re made up of a group of younger agents who left CAA and ICM to form our own shop, and we’ve got a very hot list of clients. I’d like very much to make you one of them.”

“Mr. Swims…”

“Fred.”

“Fred, I’m not an actor, really I’m not. I’m a lawyer, and I don’t even live out here.”

“You will soon, Stone, trust me. Can I ask-I hope I’m not prying-what is your real name, the one you were born with?”

“The one I’m still using.”

“Are you serious? That’s amazing! I couldn’t have come up with a better one myself, and I’mvery good at bankable names. You know what Vance’s name was, don’t you?”

“No.”

“Herbert Willis.” He held up three fingers, Boy Scout-style. “I swear to God.”

“That’s fascinating,” Stone said, trying not to offend the man.

Swims stopped shaking his hand, took him by the arm, and steered him a few feet away from anyone else. “I’ve got to tell you what a test like this and a role like this can mean. We’re talking the biggest bucks here, and I’m not kidding.”

Stone laughed. “Lou Regenstein tells me I’m too old to be a star.”

“God forbid I should contradict Lou, but the mature leading man isin right now-look at Harrison Ford-Christ, look at Clint Eastwood! The man is in his late sixties! And you’re what, thirty-eight?”

“I’m forty-two.”

Swims leaned forward and spoke conspiratorially. “Promise me that number will never pass your lips until you’re fifty,” he said. “That number will be between you and me; you’re thirty…well, in your late…in yourearly late thirties.”

“I promise,” Stone said gravely.

Swims slipped a card into Stone’s jacket pocket. “I want you to call me tomorrow morning, early, and we’ll do lunch and talk about what the future holds for you. Believe me, it’s very bright, but I don’t want to impose on my host’s good nature by talking business in his house.” He gave a Boy Scout salute and wandered off in pursuit of a waiter.

Stone was finally able to find Betty Southard, who was still talking with the only other unaccompanied woman in the room.

“Hello,” Betty said warmly. “Stone, this is Arlene Michaels of theHollywood Reporter.”

“So you’re the newactor in town,” the woman said, shaking hands. “I’ve heard about your test.”

Stone shook his head. “I think that test is going to turn out to be a great embarrassment,” he said.

“My dear, whyever would it be embarrassing? I saw Fred Swims buttonhole you. He’s tops, you know; you couldn’t do better for an agent. Your dreams are about to come true.”

“I’m afraid my dreams don’t run in that direction,” Stone said. “I’m a lawyer, and I like to confine my acting to the courtroom.”

“Well,” Betty said, “thatis where you’ll be doing your acting. They’re working overtime tonight to build the set; the scene wasn’t scheduled for another three weeks, but I guess Lou Regenstein really wanted to get you into that part while you’re here.”

Stone was surprised. Regenstein had told him that the scene had already been scheduled for the next day. “I’m baffled by the whole experience,” Stone said.

Arlene Michaels suddenly produced a notebook. “It’s two r’s, is it?”

“That’s right.”

“And you’re a New York lawyer?”

“Right again.”

“You used to live with Arrington, didn’t you?”

“I live in my own house,” he replied. “Arrington and I are good friends.”

“Well, ‘good friends’ can meananything in this town,” she said, scribbling away. “This your first movie part?”

“Oh, yes.”

“You sure?”

“I think I’d remember if I’d been in a movie.”

“Tell me, how does Vance feel about having Arrington’s old beau in town?”

“You should ask Vance; I’m here at his invitation.”

“A little male bonding while the wife is out of town, huh?”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Stone said.

“Really, Arlene,” Betty broke in. “You’re grilling Stone.”

“It’s what I do, honey,” Michaels said. “What are your first impressions of L.A., Stone?”

“I’m very favorably impressed,” Stone said, looking around the room.

“Well, it’s not all like this,” she said. “My first time in this house, I can tell you. Vance isn’t known for inviting the press into his home.”

Betty spoke up. “Arlene, you know Vance is a very private person.”

“Shy, you could say.”

“You could say. I’d think you’d be pleased to be the first reporter in this house for years.”

“Well, there was theArchitectural Digest piece last year, wasn’t there?”

“It’s hardly the same thing.”

Stone took Betty’s arm and guided her away. “Arlene, would you excuse us for just a moment? There’s something I have to discuss with Betty.”

“Sure,” Michaels replied.

Stone made sure his back was to the woman. “I understand that L.A. parties end early.”

“Always,” Betty said. “It’s an early town; everybody is at work at the crack of dawn.”

“Do you think you and I could have a drink somewhere later?”

“All right, but I have to be at work early, too. Let’s meet at the bar in the Bel-Air Hotel,” she said.

“Fine.”

“Now, we’d better rejoin Arlene; we don’t want her to go away miffed.”

They turned back to the woman and found her gone. She’d cornered Vance, and he was saved only by the tinkling of a silver bell.

“Dinner is served,” the Filipino butler called out.

The crowd, which had grown since Stone had arrived, moved out of the rear doors to a wide terrace, where tables of eight had been set. Stone looked at the place cards and found his seat, between Barbara Sturmack and a man who appeared, like Stone, to be alone. He helped Mrs. Sturmack with her chair, then turned to meet the man next to him.

“I’m Onofrio Ippolito,” the man said. He was shorter than Stone, heavily built without being fat, with thick, short salt-and-pepper hair.

“I’m Stone Barrington.” They shook hands.

“What brings you out here, Mr. Barrington?” the man asked.

“Just visiting friends,” Stone replied.

“That’s not what I heard,” Ippolito said.

Stone was about to ask what he’d heard when Barbara Stunnack tugged at his sleeve and began introducing him to others seated at the table. Stone never did resume his conversation with Ippolito.

When dinner was finished, they rose to go into the house for coffee, and Stone found David Sturmack walking alongside him. “Could I have a word with you alone?” he asked.

“Of course,” Stone replied and allowed himself to be steered into what he thought must be Vance’s study, a medium-sized room paneled in antique pine, with many fine pictures on the walls. When they were comfortably seated, Sturmack began.

“Stone, I do a great deal of business on the West Coast and some business in New York. I’m considering changing my legal representation in the city, and I wondered if you might be interested in representing me?”

“That’s very flattering, Mr. Sturmack-”

“David, please.”

“David. What sort of business do you do in New York?”

“Some real estate; I have interests in a couple of restaurants, and I may want to develop more with some friends; I invest in businesses; I buy, I sell; occasionally I litigate something. I’m a lawyer myself by training, but I haven’t practiced in years.”

“I should tell you that I don’t have any extensive experience in real estate and none at all in restaurants.”

“I’m aware of that; I spoke at some length with a Mr. William Eggers at Woodman and Weld this afternoon. He says that since you’re of counsel to his firm, they’d be willing to lend backup support and expertise in various specialties as needed.”

Stone was off balance; he hadn’t expected this. “Who represents you at the moment?”

“My principal attorneys are Hyde, Tyson, McElhenny and Wade, but I’ve been contemplating a move for some time.”

“What sort of billing have they experienced with you?”

“In excess of a million dollars a year. Of course, you’d have to take care of Woodman and Weld, but all the billing would be through you, and I imagine you’d be able to hang on to most of the fees. Also, there would be opportunities to invest some of your fees in various ventures, at an extremely good rate of return.”

“Mr. Sturmack, may I be frank?”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“You and I have met only this evening; you know little about me or my skills; why do you want me to represent you?”

“Stone, I know a great deal more about you than you think: I know about your record with the NYPD, I know about the major cases you’ve handled, and I know about how you handle yourself”

“You must understand that Woodman and Weld make some demands on my time, and it’s an association I value; I couldn’t undertake to represent you as my only client.”

“Of course I understand that, Stone. I’m not making this offer off the top of my head.”

“You don’t seem the sort of man who would do that,” Stone said.

“You’re right. Understand, a great deal of what I want from a lawyer is his personal skills-the way he handles himself in a situation. I like to avoid litigation when possible, but I like to get my way, too.”

Stone smiled. “All clients do. David, I really don’t think I can give you an answer immediately. Of course, your proposal is extremely attractive, but I think I’d have to talk with Bill Eggers about it, preferably in person, and I expect to be here for another week, maybe longer.”

“Of course. Tell you what: I’m jammed up for the next few days, but I expect to be in New York late next week. Why don’t you and I sit down and talk about it then. I’ll gather some specifics on my current situation, and we can discuss the workload.”

“That sounds very good.” They exchanged cards, shook hands, and rejoined the other guests.

Over coffee, Stone exchanged a glance with Betty Southard and nodded toward the door. She smiled and nodded, and after a moment, he said his goodbyes to his host and left, a minute behind her.