BOOK THREE

Chapter 29

There is a smell to failure. It is a stench that clings like a miasma. Just as dogs can detect the odor of fear in a human being, so people can sense when a man is on his way down.

Particularly in Hollywood.

Everyone in the Business knew that Clifton Lawrence was finished, even before he knew it. They could smell it in the air around him.

Clifton had not heard from Toby or Jill in the week since they had returned from their honeymoon. He had sent an expensive gift and had left three telephone messages, which had been ignored. Jill. Somehow she had managed to turn Toby's mind against him. Clifton knew that he had to effect a truce. He and Toby meant too much to each other to let anyone come between them.

Clifton drove out to the house on a morning when he knew Toby would be at the studio. Jill saw him coming up the driveway and opened the door for him. She looked stunningly beautiful, and he said so. She was friendly. They sat in the garden and had coffee, and she told him about the honeymoon and the places they had been. She said, "I'm sorry Toby hasn't returned your calls, Cliff. You can't believe how frantic it's been around here." She smiled apologetically, and Clifton knew then that he had been wrong about her. She was not his enemy.

"I'd like us to start fresh and be friends," he said.

"Thank you, Cliff. So would I."

Clifton felt an immeasurable sense of relief. "I want to give a dinner party for you and Toby. I'll take over the private room at the Bistro. A week from Saturday. Black tie, a hundred of your most intimate friends. How does that sound?"

"Lovely. Toby will be pleased."

Jill waited until the afternoon of the party to telephone and say, "I'm so sorry, Cliff. I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to make it tonight. I'm a little tired. Toby thinks I should stay home and rest."

Clifton managed to hide his feelings. "I'm sorry about that, Jill, but I understand. Toby will be able to come, won't he?"

He heard her sigh over the telephone. "I'm afraid not, dear boy. He won't go anywhere without me. But you have a nice party." And she hung up.

It was too late to call off the party. The bill was three thousand dollars. But it cost Clifton much more than that. He had been stood up by the guest of honor, his one and only client, and everyone there, the studios heads, the stars, the directors - all the people who mattered in Hollywood - were aware of it. Clifton tried to cover up by saying that Toby was not feeling well. It was the worst thing he could have done. When he picked up a copy of the Herald Examiner the next afternoon, there was a photograph of Mr. and Mrs. Toby Temple that had been taken at the Dodgers Stadium the night before.

Clifton Lawrence knew now that he was fighting for his life. If Toby dropped him, there would be no one around to pick him up. None of the big agencies would take him on, because he could bring them no clients; and he could not bear the thought of starting all over again on his own. It was too late for that. He had to find a way to make peace with Jill. He telephoned Jill and told her he would like to come to the house to talk to her.

"Of course," she said. "I was telling Toby last night that we haven't seen enough of you lately."

"I'll be over in fifteen minutes," Clifton said. He walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a double Scotch. He had been doing too much of that lately. It was a bad habit to drink during a working day, but who was he kidding? What work? Every day he received important offers for Toby, but he could not get the great man to sit down and even discuss them with him. In the past, they had talked over everything. He remembered all the wonderful times they had had, the trips they had taken, the parties and the laughs and the girls. They had been as close as twins. Toby had needed him, had counted on him. And now...Clifton poured another drink and was pleased to see his hands were not trembling so much.

When Clifton arrived at the Temples' house, Jill was seated on the terrace, having coffee. She looked up and smiled as she saw him approach. You're a salesman, Clifton told himself. Sell her on you.

"It's nice to see you, Cliff. Sit down."

"Thanks, Jill." He took a seat across from her at a large wrought-iron table and studied her. She was wearing a white summer dress, and the contrast with her black hair and golden, tanned skin was stunning. She looked younger, and - the only word he could think of somehow - innocent. She was watching him with warm, friendly eyes.

"Would you like some breakfast, Cliff?"

"No, thanks. I ate hours ago."

"Toby isn't here."

"I know. I wanted to talk to you alone."

"What can I do for you?"

"Accept my apology," Clifton urged. He had never begged anyone for anything in his life, but he was begging now. "We - I got off on the wrong foot. Maybe it was my fault. It probably was. Toby's been my client and my friend for so long that I - I wanted to protect him. Can you understand that?"

Jill nodded, her brown eyes fixed on him, and said, "Of course, Cliff."

He took a deep breath. "I don't know whether he ever told you the story, but I'm the one who got Toby started. I knew he was going to be a big star the first time I saw him." He saw that he had her full attention. "I handled a lot of important clients then, Jill. I let them all go so that I could concentrate on Toby's career."

"Toby's talked to me about how much you've done for him," she said.

"Has he?" He hated the eagerness in his voice.

Jill smiled. "He told me about the day he pretended that Sam Goldwyn telephoned you and how you went to see Toby anyway. That was nice."

Clifton leaned forward and said, "I don't want anything to happen to the relationship that Toby and I have. I need you in my corner. I'm asking you to forget everything that happened between us. I apologize for being out of line. I thought I was protecting Toby. Well, I was wrong. I think you're going to be great for him."

"I want to be. Very much."

"If Toby drops me, I - I think it would kill me. I'm not just talking about business. He and I have - he's been like a son to me. I love him." He despised himself for it, but he heard himself begging again. "Please, Jill, for God's sake..." He stopped, his voice choked.

She looked at him a long moment with those deep brown eyes and then held out her hand. "I don't hold grudges," Jill said. "Can you come to dinner tomorrow night?"

Clifton took a deep breath and then smiled happily and said, "Thanks." He found that his eyes were suddenly misty. "I - I won't forget this. Ever."

The following morning, when Clifton arrived at his office, there was a registered letter notifying him that his services had been terminated and that he no longer had the authority to act as Toby Temple's agent.