Sex, Lies & Serious Money

31

Stone left Santa Fe without resuming his sexual relationship with Gala. Something had gone out of it for him, he realized, and she seemed to feel it, too.

He took off for Los Angeles and landed an hour and a quarter later at Santa Monica, where a car from the Arrington awaited.

It was a hot day, and as soon as he had been dropped off at his house on the property, he stripped off his clothes, grabbed a towel, and headed for the pool. He tossed the towel aside, then, naked, swam a few laps, then pushed off underwater and started toward the other end. To his surprise, someone dove in from the far end of the pool, and, as the bubbles cleared, he saw that it was a woman and that she was naked, too. Then she saw him, and they both rose to the surface.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” she replied uncertainly, sweeping a lot of dark hair back from her forehead. “I wasn’t aware that the Arrington was a haven for naturists.”

“And yet you appear au naturel,” he said.

“Not having any way to deny that, I confess,” she said.

“And this is not, strictly speaking, one of the hotel pools. It belongs to my house, which is just there.” He nodded.

“Well, that means that one of us should leave, and that it should be me. I apologize for the intrusion.”

“Oh, you’re not an intrusion, just a surprise. My name is Stone Barrington.”

“How do you do?”

“Very well, thank you. And now I believe the quaint American custom requires you to tell me your name.”

“I’m not sure I want you to know it,” she replied. “I’m afraid you already know too much about me.”

“From what I’ve observed so far, you possess the same equipment as other women, except that it may be delineated and arranged more artfully than usual. Your name is currently the only secret.”

“Jinx,” she replied. “Jinx Jameson.”

“Is Jinx a family name?”

“A childhood nickname, because of my tendency as a toddler to break things. I was born Jennifer, but when people call me that, I tend to think they’re talking to someone else.”

“What would you like to do now, Jinx?”

“Well, I’d like to swim for a bit, since I’m already here.”

“Would you be more comfortable if I got you a swimsuit?”

She thought about it. “In the circumstances, that seems a retrograde notion. If it’s all right, I’ll just swim a few laps, and then, while you avert your gaze, I’ll flee the premises.”

“I have a better idea — I’ll give you a robe when you emerge, and then we can have some lunch at poolside.”

“A kind invitation, thank you.” She began swimming again, while Stone got out of the pool, found some robes, and ordered lunch.

After the waiter had departed she swam to the ladder; Stone held up a robe between them, and she slipped into it and toweled her hair.

“Hungry?”

“Ravenous,” she replied, slipping into the chair he held for her. “I just got off a plane from New York. What have we for lunch?”

“A lobster salad and a very nice Chardonnay by Far Niente, which also has the advantage of having the most beautiful of labels.”

She sipped the wine and examined the bottle. “Right on both counts. Have you just come from somewhere?”

“Also from New York, by way of Santa Fe, where I spent a few days with friends.”

“You don’t have a home in Santa Fe? How disappointing. I always wanted to meet a man with a Santa Fe house.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but my friends make me so comfortable that I’m loath to invest in real estate.”

“You’re not penurious, are you? I despise that in a man.”

“No one has ever accused me of such.”

“I’m relieved to hear it.”

“I’m happy to relieve you. So we’re both New Yorkers?”

“I’m not a native, but a Southerner, from a small town in Georgia, called Delano. I came to New York after studying theater design at the Yale Drama School, nearly fifteen years ago.”

“That’s enough to make you a neo-native.”

She laughed. “That’s a new word. It describes me well. Are you a native?”

“Born and bred.”

“And how do you occupy yourself in the Apple?”

“I’m an attorney, sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“Well, my interests have broadened over the years, so I’m only a part-time attorney these days.”

“What other interests do you have?”

“This hotel, among other things, and a growing list of others of the same name. And you design theater sets?”

“I do.”

“And what brings you to Los Angeles? Film work?”

“No, I came to supervise the installation of a set that I originally designed for New York. After L.A., they’ll take it on the road for a national tour, and the hell with them — they can install it themselves.”

“What play?”

“Native Daughter.”

“I saw it a few months ago, and I enjoyed it, but of course I particularly admired the set.”

She laughed. “Hardly anybody ever says that, unless they know I’m the designer.”

“I admired it before I knew you were the designer. I especially liked your very effective use of the scrim.”

“Careful, you’ll make me blush with such language. What brings you to L.A.?”

“A meeting of the Arrington board, upon which I sit.”

“Is it painful, talking company business while sitting on a board?”

“The board is well-cushioned, and the company good.”

“You said that’s your house?” she asked, nodding at it.

“I did.”

“On the grounds of a hotel?”

“The hotel is named for my late wife, Arrington, and the house was built for her on this property, which belonged first to her previous husband, then after his death, to her.”

“And now to you?”

“And now to the hotel, which bought it.”

“It’s becoming clear, as through a scrim. The actor Vance Calder once owned the land, didn’t he?”

“He was her previous husband.”

“Such a history!”

“Indeed.”

She stretched. “That was a delicious lunch, but I feel a nap coming on.”

“Shall we continue this conversation over dinner?”

“What a good idea.” She stood up, shed the robe, and draped it over her chair, then she walked slowly away.

Stone appreciated the view for a few seconds before calling, “Seven o’clock? My house?”

She waved a hand in assent, then stepped through a small opening in the hedge that separated Stone’s house from the cottage next door and disappeared from view.