“For ... she’s here. In Los Angeles.”
“You mean that girl who came to lunch?” I disguised my interest, but Clarissa, ignoring me, went on talking as energetically and as obliquely as ever.
“She’s asked for you several times, which is a good sign. I told her I suspected you’d be along but that one never could tell, especially if you were still tied up with Julian, unlikely as that prospect was.”
“But I do finish some things.”
“I’m sure you do. In any case, the girl has been here over a month and you must see her as soon as possible.”
“I’d like to.”
“Of course you would. I still have my plot, you know. Oh, you may think I forget things but I don’t: my mind is a perfect filing system.”
“Could you tell me just what you are talking about?”
She chuckled and wagged a finger at me. “Soon you’ll know. I know I meddle a good deal, more than I should, but after all this time it would be simply impossible for me not to interfere. I see it coming, one of those really exciting moments and I want just to give it a tickle here, a push there to set it rolling. Oh, what fun it will be!”
Hastings crept back among us, diffidently pushing a star and a producer in our direction. “I think you all ought to know each other, Clarissa ... and, ah, Gene too. This is Miss ... and Mr ... and here in Hollywood ... when you get to New York ... house on the river, wonderful, old ... new film to cost five million ... runner-up for the Academy Award.” He did it all very well, I thought. Smiles gleamed in the patio’s half-light. The star’s paste jewels, borrowed from her studio, glimmered like an airliner’s lighted windows. I moved toward the house, but Clarissa’s high voice restrained me at the door: “You’ll call Iris tomorrow, won’t you?” and she shouted an exchange and a number. I waved to show that I’d heard her then, vowing I would never telephone Iris, I rejoined the party and watched with fascination as the various performers performed in the living room to the accompaniment of a grand piano just barely out of tune.