W E B Griffin – Corp 06 – Close Combat

But she was an artist, and aware that artists are called upon to sacrifice. Her fans wanted Veronica Wood svelte, not chubby. When the Metro-Magnum Burger was served, she carefully salted and delicately let her mouth savor one french fry. She chewed it with relish, then pushed the rest of the french fries to the side of the plate. After that she removed the hamburger from the Kaiser roll and deposited the roll on top of the french fries. So far as she knew, onions and lettuce were not fattening, but that goddamned sauce was probably a hundred calories a taste. Consequently, she carefully scraped off as much of the sauce as she could. Then she ate the hamburger patty and the lettuce and the onions… slowly, slowly, savoring each bite. And if the onions made her breath bad, fuck it, she wasn’t planning on kissing anybody anyway.

When she finished her lunch she was still hungry. She ordered a cup of black coffee. It would probably make her even hungrier, she thought. And, God, it was five hours until supper!

She was in a foul mood. Not in the mood for company, and especially not in the mood for the company of H. Morton Cooperman, of the Metro-Magnum Studios public relations staff.

“May I join you, darling?”

“What if I said no?”

“I was on Stage Eleven, looking for you,” Mort said as he slid into a chair and picked up one of her french fries. “Do you mind?”

“I hope you choke on it,” Veronica said.

“Stefan told me he’d been hard on you,” Mort said. “He said the final result was magnificent.”

“How would he know?”

“We all admire your professionalism, darling,” Mort said. “Your willingness to strive for perfection.”

“What do you want, Mort? I’m really in no mood for your bullshit.”

“How do you feel about going on a war bond tour?”

“No way. I’m tired. I get a month off. Read my contract.”

“Mr. Roth thought you’d be pleased we’ve been able to arrange this for you.”

“Mr. Roth is as full of shit as you are.”

“This is not an ordinary war bond tour, darling. This one is worthy of you. These are Marines, fresh from Guadalcanal. An absolutely magnificent Marine named Machine Gun McCoy, who’s going to get the Medal of Honor. And a group of pilots, all of them aces. The publicity will be wonderful.”

“Listen carefully, Mort: No!”

“All orchestrated by the master flack of them all, our own beloved Jake Dillon. You’ll almost certainly get a Life cover.”

“Jake is in Australia, or some goddamned place like that.”

“Jake is in Los Angeles.”

“Since when?”

“I don’t know since when, darling, all I know is that he’ll be here tomorrow at half past nine to set this thing up. I’d love to be able to tell him that you’ll be going with it.”

He didn’t call me, the sonofabitch!

“Fuck you, Mort, and fuck Jake, too,” Miss Wood said, then rose from the table and marched magnificently out of the commissary to a waiting studio Lincoln limousine.

The chauffeur pushed himself off the fender and opened the door for her, after which he ran around the front and slipped behind the wheel.

When he paused at the gatehouse, the chauffeur turned around.

“Would you like me to stop anywhere, Miss Wood?”

“Just take me home, please,” Veronica replied. But then asked: “Do you think you could find Mr. Dillon’s place in Malibu?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Would you like me to take you there?”

No, you jackass, I’m just asking for the hell of it; I’m writing a goddamn book.

“Would you, please?” she asked sweetly.

The nature of Miss Wood’s relationship with Jake Dillon was such that she did not feel it necessary to knock at the front door and seek admission from one of Jake’s Mexicans. When the limousine pulled up before the house, she was out of the car before the chauffeur could get out from behind the wheel.

“Wait!” she called over her shoulder, and went around the side of the house, down the path to the beach, and up the circular stairs to the sun deck.

A black-haired woman in shorts (young, good skin, nice legs, boobs a little too big) was sitting in one of Jake’s chairs. A skinny kid in swim trunks and a T-shirt was in the other.

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