‘I don’t know. Yesterday.’
He looked at me critically. ‘You fly Coach?’
‘Standby.’
‘Pay more money, Slick. Fly in the sharp end, or supersonic. Coach kills. It’s a false economy. Nat? Give my friend here a Rain King. And just wash that ice. Relax, Slick, you look fine. Nat, am 1 wrong?’
‘That’s right, Mr Goodney.’
Fielding leaned back against the rich wood, his weight satisfyingly disposed on two elbows and one long Yankee leg. He regarded me with his embarrassing eyes, supercandid cornflower blue, the kind made fashionable by the first wave of technicolor American film-Stars. His thick unlayered hair was swept back from the high droll forehead. He smiled … Speaking as an Englishman, one of the pluses of New York is that it makes you feel surprisingly well-educated and upper-class. I mean, you’re bound to feel a bit brainy and blueblooded, a bit of an exquisite, when you walk through Forty-Second Street or Union Square, or even Sixth Avenue — at noon, the office men, with lunchbox faces and truant eyes. I don’t get that feeling with Fielding. I don’t get that feeling at all.
‘And how old are you?’ I asked him.
‘I’ll be twenty-six in January.’
‘Jesus Christ.’
‘Don’t let that spook you, John. Here’s your drink.’
Frowning Nat expectantly slid the glass towards me. The liquid looked as heavy as quicksilver.
‘What’s in this?’
‘Nothing but summer skies, Slick … You’re still a little lagged, no?’ He placed a warm brown hand on my shoulder. ‘Let’s sit down. Nat: keep them coming.’
I followed him to the table, steadied by that human touch. Fielding adjusted his cuffs and said, ‘Any thoughts on the wife?’
‘I just spoke to Caduta Massi.’
‘No kidding? She called you herself?’
I shrugged and said, ‘Yeah, this afternoon.’
‘So she’s hungry. I love it. What did she say?’
‘She said she wanted lots more kids.’
‘Uh?’
‘In the film. She wants this bunch of kids.’
‘That figures,’ said Fielding. ‘Word was she had herself snipped. Sometime in her late twenties. She was a devout Catholic, also a hot lay. You know — no more abortions.’
‘Hey look,’ I said. ‘I don’t know, Fielding. She’s a bit old for us, isn’t she?’
‘Have you seen The Weird Sister?’
‘Yeah. It was terrible.’
‘Sure, the film crapped, but Caduta looked great.’
‘That’s just it. She looked like a pampered movie star. I don’t want that. I want one of those .. .’ I wanted one of those new-deal actresses, the sort that look like averagely scuffed-up housewives. Critics were forever saying how sexy and real these actresses looked.
I didn’t think they looked sexy but I thought they looked real. At least this was my instinct, and my instinct was all I had to go on. ‘Who else is there? How about Happy Jonson?’
‘No good. She’s in the Hermitage.’
‘What’s up?’
‘Depression, deep, practically catatonic. That girl is real blue, Slick.’
‘Okay, what about Sunny Wand?’
‘Ditto. Fat farm. Two hundred and twenty pounds.’
‘Wow … Okay, Day Lightbowne.’
‘Forget it. She just came out of a two-year analysis. Then she was date-raped in Bridgehampton by her weekend therapist.’
‘Date-raped, huh. What kind of deal is that? What, sort of with bananas and stuff?’
‘Date-raped, Slick. Out on a date, you know? Remember. In fact it’s an interesting distinction. With a regular rape, lust plays no part in it. It’s all about power, self-assertion, violence — normally these losers can’t even perform. But with a date-rape, lust features.’ He paused, then went on briskly. ‘Anyhow Day Lightbowne was screwed to shreds by her shrink and she’s right out of business. I say Caduta, Slick. She’s perfect for us. Think about it. Just think about it. Have you spoken with Lorne?’
‘Yeah.’
‘This is a very difficult time for Lorne.’
‘You’re not fucking kidding.’
‘His career’s in turnaround and he just had eighty grand’s worth of dental work. He’s low right now.’
‘Low? What’s he like when he’s high? Two hours I had him on the line. Look, Fielding, he’s going to roast me. I won’t be able to handle him.’
‘Stay icy calm, Slick. The truth is, Lorne Guyland will do anything to be in this picture. Have you seen The Cyborg Sanction?’