Stone Barrington 27 - Doing Hard Time

Cliquot Grande Dame, supplied by Stone, who now sidled up to his son.
    “That went well, I thought,” Stone said.
    “I know what you want to know,” Peter said. “What are my plans?”
    “Are you coming back to New York for a while?” Stone asked his son.
    “We’re leaving for California at dawn,” Peter said. “We decided to drive.”
    “You’re going to drive your Prius all the way across America?” Stone asked, incredulously.
    “Nope, I traded it for a Porsche Cayenne Turbo,” Peter replied. “And we’ve rented a U-Haul trailer.”
    “You can’t get all this,” Stone said, indicating the well-furnished apartment, “into a trailer.”
    “You’re right, Dad. That’s why the movers are coming tomorrow and packing and shipping everything to L.A., where it will be stored while we look for a place to live. The U-Haul will hold the stuff we absolutely have to have with us for a couple of weeks.”
    “That makes sense,” Stone said. “Where will you stay when you arrive?”
    “Our cottage, Vance’s old one on the Centurion Studios lot, is being renovated for us. We can camp out there.”
    “At the risk of intruding into your personal life,” Stone said, “may I point out that we have a perfectly good, five-bedroom house on the grounds of The Arrington, your mother’s namesake hotel? You might be a great deal more comfortable there, and there’s room service for more than pizza. I’d be happy to give them a call and let them know you’re coming.”
    “Thanks, Dad,” Peter said, as if this alternative had never occurred to him, “we’ll take you up on that.”
    “When will you be arriving?”
    “Next Friday. We start at the studio the following Monday. Our script has already been approved for production.”
    “So you’re jumping in at the deep end, then?”
    “You could put it that way, I guess. Having a shooting script already approved gives us a head start.”
    So did the ownership of forty-five percent of the studio’s stock by himself and Peter’s trust, Stone mused. “I expect you’ll get a warm reception from Leo Goldman Jr.,” he said.
    “Leo told me he’s going to treat us just like everybody else at the studio,” Peter said. “No favoritism.”
    “Okay,” Stone said, “and if he fails to do that, we can always muster enough votes on the board to fire him.” Stone and his friend, Mike Freeman, CEO of Strategic Services, Stone’s principal law client, both served on the board and together voted a majority of the shares.
    Peter laughed heartily. “I hope it won’t come to that, Dad.”
    “You never know what can happen when you’re doing hard time in Hollywood,” Stone said.
    “What do you mean by that?” Peter asked, sounding genuinely curious.
    “After a few weeks at Centurion Studios, you won’t need to ask,” Stone said. “By the way, I know this will sound odd, but I’d like for you to call me if you meet anyone out there who is Russian.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “I know. I just saw someone at your graduation ceremony who looked familiar, and, on reflection, I somehow think he’s Russian.”
    “Dad, I know you’ve recently had some serious troubles with a Russian Mob, but why would any of them be at my graduation ceremony?”
    “I don’t know, but I want you to be alert to the possibility that, if you meet someone who is Russian, he may not be a friend. Please, just call me.”
    “All right, I will.”
    Dino wandered over, Viv in tow. “Now that we’ve outlasted Mary Ann, why don’t we get out of here and leave these kids to get drunk and have a good time?” Dino always worried when his ex-wife had too much access to his son. He said she had a way of eating people’s brains.
    “The car’s parked out front,” Stone said. “Let’s say our goodbyes.”
    There was a round of hugs, kisses, and standard advice, then they were in Stone’s car, headed from New Haven back to New York.
    It was very quiet for a while, then Dino finally spoke. “I don’t know why,” he said, “but I feel like crying.”
    “Oh, Dino,” Viv said, “get a grip.”
    “I feel like crying, too,” Stone said.
    But neither of them did.

Stone pulled into his garage, which had been enlarged into the basement space of the house next door. He had recently purchased and remodeled the house, and it now contained a duplex flat for guests and three other apartments, into which he had moved his secretary, Joan, his cook and housekeeper, Helene, and his