Dream Town

Chapter 78

The man standing there was around forty-five, close to Callahan’s height in bare feet, thinly built with a mustache and a wickedly sharp widow’s peak that had little hair behind it, like a low tide with no high tide left to come. He was dressed in an expensive blue wool suit with a yellow carnation in his lapel. He held a snazzy hat in his hand. Callahan gave him a kiss on the cheek and took his arm. He was holding a bouquet of flowers much larger than the one Archer had brought.

“What beautiful flowers, Harold, thank you.”

Archer rose and looked at him and then at Callahan, who took a moment to lay the flowers aside.

“Harold Stevens, this is my friend, Archer. Harold and I met while I was away filming on location in Arizona, Archer. He’s producing the film I’m working on for Warners.”

Stevens came forward with his hand out for Archer to shake. “Liberty likes to build me up more than I deserve. I’m really a humble CPA who got a production credit on this film as a thank-you from Jack Warner for some work I did for him, that I guess he considered above and beyond. I’ve got a good business, though, employ a lot of people, and live pretty well. But the best thing that came out of this producing thing was me meeting Liberty.”

“And accounting is nice steady work, and he takes weekends off, right, Harold?”

“Absolutely, babe.” He slipped his arm casually around Callahan’s waist.

This innocuous move ripped at Archer more than even the Paley-piloted Beechcraft coming for him had.

Stevens touched her necklace. “I knew that would look fabulous on you when I saw it in the jewelry shop in Beverly Hills.”

“It was a lovely gift,” she said, glancing at Archer. “We’re going to a studio function tonight. Dinner and then dancing.”

“Sounds like fun,” said Archer in a voice so low he could barely hear it. He glanced at the sable wrap. That had probably been a gift from the man, too.

Stevens said, “Wow, that is one swell ride out there. Are those your wheels, Archer?”

“Yeah, it’s a Delahaye. I won it gambling in Reno, if you can believe it — right, Liberty?”

“It was a little more involved than that, Archer.”

Stevens looked pensive. “Archer, Archer, I know that name for some reason. Weren’t you in the papers recently about something?”

Archer looked at Callahan before saying, “I think that was another Archer.”

“So, what do you do for a living?” asked Stevens.

“Little bit of this and that. I’m in between gigs right now.”

Stevens laughed. “I know just what you mean. I used to be like that. Then I thought, what’s certain in life, death and taxes, right? And because of that people will always need good accountants. So, voilà. I’ve been lucky for sure.” He eyed Callahan. “Still am.”

“Well, I don’t want to keep you. Oh, I think this is yours.”

He handed Stevens the lighter.

The man chuckled. “I must have left this the last time I was here.” He grinned at Callahan while Archer ran his gaze over her. She was staring trancelike into space.

“I’ll see you out, Archer. Harold, fix yourself a drink. You know where everything is.”

“Right, babe. Nice to meet you, Archer. Hope you get another gig real soon. Anything I can do to help, just let me know. A friend of Liberty’s is a friend of mine.”

“Yeah, thanks. Nice to meet you, too.”

Callahan led him outside and over to the Delahaye. Parked behind it was a 1952 baby blue Cadillac Eldorado convertible with whitewalls, tail fins, and a full mouth of chrome teeth on the front end.

“This Harold’s car?”

“Yes.”

“Sweet ride.” It dwarfed the Delahaye size-wise and had all the latest bells and whistles. Compared to his car, the Eldorado seemed to symbolize one thing: Out with the old and in with the new.

She ran her hand over the Delahaye’s car door.

“Yeah, but this is still one of a kind,” Callahan said. She looked at Archer, who was just staring at her. “Okay, I know that you’re confused and hurt and... lots of other things.”

“Look, if you love the guy it doesn’t matter what’s going on in my head.”

“He’s a nice enough man, but I haven’t known him long enough to know whether I love him or not, Archer.”

“It usually happens pretty fast when it’s the real deal.”

She leaned against the Delahaye, frowning at him. “And what would you know about that?”

“Maybe more than you think. And him giving you that necklace shows he thinks this is something important.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why did you come over here tonight?”

“I don’t think it matters, not now anyway.”

She looked back at the house. Back at... Harold. “He treats me really well, and he’s... he’s...”

“Safe, I think is the word you’re looking for. I guess the worst that can happen to him is that he’ll get a paper cut from all the money he has to count.”

She lifted her eyebrows along with her eyes. “That’s exactly the point.”

“Yeah, I can see that now.”

She clasped her hands as though girding herself for what she had to say. To Archer, she looked like she was about to deliver the most important role of her life. And maybe, in a way, she was.

“I can’t live your way anymore, Archer. I can’t go to sleep every night wondering if you’re going to see the sun come up or not. One time I might not wake up. It’s killing me.”

He looked down. “I guess I didn’t understand how much it was affecting you.”

“Then you must be blind,” she said sharply.

“Maybe I am,” he conceded.

Her tone became lighter and she managed to smile, if just a bit. “And we don’t even live in the same town. So...”

There was no fight left in Archer. He knew it and so did she — which was why, he realized, she was no longer coming at him with both barrels. The woman didn’t have to. The battle, if you could even call it that, was over.

“Look, I hope everything works out. If not with him, then with some other guy.”

“When are you going back to Bay Town?”

“I’m not sure that I am.”

“What?” she said in a startled voice.

“You don’t want to keep him waiting. Have a good time tonight.” Callahan’s mask of lighthearted indifference collapsed, and she stepped forward and wrapped her long arms around him. She cried quietly into his broad shoulder as he absently patted her back and said some words he forgot as soon as he uttered them.

She kissed him on the lips, gave him a searching look, and said, “Goodbye, Archer.”

He watched her hurry back up to the bungalow, wiping at her eyes. When she opened the door to go inside he heard the radio playing, a tune maybe about loss, he couldn’t tell for sure. But maybe every damn song ever written was about loss, in some way.

He put his new hat on, fixed it just so, and climbed into his old, bullet-marked Delahaye.

“Goodbye, Liberty,” he said before putting the car in gear and driving away.