Swimming to Catalina

is a major movie star.”
    “And what was all that about the screen test?”
    “Have youseen the test?”
    “Yes. I found it excruciating.”
    She laughed. “I saw it in a room with a dozen secretaries who’d heard about it, and there was a heavy scent of vaginal juices in the air.”
    “Stop it!” he groaned.
    “I believe you really are embarrassed,” she said, surprised.
    “The whole thing is humiliating.”
    “Forgive me; I’m accustomed to actors, any one of whom would have understood immediately what that test meant to his future in this town.”
    “I don’t have a future in this town.”
    “You do if you want it.”
    “That’s what Fred Swims said,” Stone replied disconsolately.
    “Come on, Stone, cheer up! It’s not as though you’re being tarred and feathered and ridden out of town on a rail. You’re having a moment in the limelight; enjoy it! Most men would be jumping up and down with glee!”

    Stone laughed. “I suppose you’re right, but it’s a lot more than I’m accustomed to. I’m a bit at sea.”
    She put a hand on his cheek. “What is it, baby?” she asked as if talking to a small child.
    “Well, the test is pretty strange,” he said. “Then there’s the party tonight.”
    “What about the party?”
    “Look, I’m in town for hardly more than twenty-four hours, and I get a screen test and a part in a movie for very nice money. Then an agent—apparently a top one—wants to represent me, and then…” He stopped himself.
    “Go on.”
    “Here we get into a confidential area.”
    “Most of my job is keeping Vance’s secrets; I suppose I can keep yours, too.”
    “What do you know about David Sturmack?”
    She shrugged. “He’s very important in these parts—behind the scenes, mostly.”
    “How do you mean?”
    “Well, you never see anything in the trades about how Sturmack made this deal or even made a movie, but you hear stories…”
    “What sort of stories?”
    “Did you see Vance’s movieParting Time ?”
    “Yes, a long time ago.”
    “Vance wasn’t supposed to be in that movie; he was under contract to another big studio, and they wouldn’t release him. Story is, Sturmack made one phone call and ten minutes later, Vance was inParting Time. It got him his first Academy Award, and the picture did half a billion dollars worldwide. A lot of informed opinion says that the picture would have tanked without Vance. So you see the kind of powerthat Sturmack can wield in a single phone call.”
    “How did he come by all this power?”
    “He had something to do with the unions.”
    “What unions?”
    “The craft unions, the ones that have all the technicians in the business as members. He got a reputation early on for solving the most difficult contract negotiations—he represented at least two of the unions, I forget which ones. That’s really about all I know about him, except that he and Vance are very close. I can tell better than anybody who Vance is really close to by the way he responds to their telephone calls. He dropseverything when Dave Sturmack calls. The only other person who gets that kind of attention from Vance is Lou Regenstein. And right now, you.”
    “Me?”
    “You’re on the hot list right now.”
    “You mean, for the moment.”
    “Nobody stays on Vance’s hot list forever, but right now, you’re up there.” She frowned. “Why is that, Stone?”
    “Beats me,” Stone replied.
    “Yeah, sure. I know it’s something to do with Arrington, but I can’t figure out what.”
    “I haven’t spoken to Arrington for months.” Not many months, he thought, but months.
    “You’re not going to tell me, huh?”
    He shrugged. “I’m a lawyer, Betty; some things have to remain…”
    She patted his hand. “I understand. I operate under pretty much the same strictures. When you work for somebody like Vance, confidentiality is currency. If Vance suddenly clutched his chest and turned blue, half the town would be trying to hire me before theparamedics arrived. But if I talked out of turn about Vance…”
    “I understand,” he said.
    “Then we both understand.” She smiled. It was sowthing she did well.
    “Will you give me some advice?” he asked.
    “Sure.”
    “Should I actually do this part in the movie?”
    She placed a hand on her chest. “Good God! If you don’t, Lou Regenstein will have a stroke. Mind you, he strokes very quietly: he’ll lift an eyebrow and you won’t ever get a dinner table in this town