The Dream Merchants (31 page)

***

A little while later Jane came back into the office. She was carrying a tray. On it was a pot of coffee and two cups. “I thought some coffee would do you good,” she said, placing the tray on a small table in front of his couch.

“It will help,” Rocco said, pouring out a cup and giving it to Johnny.

“Thanks,” Johnny said to her. Suddenly he noticed her hand. Something was sparkling on her finger.

He put his cup down and caught her hand and looked at it. She was wearing a small engagement ring and a wedding band. “Janey,” he cried out in surprise, “you’re married!” He looked at her. “You should have told me. When did it happen?”

“I wrote you,” she said quietly. “It was about four months after you went away.”

“I never got the letter,” he said. “What’s he like?”

She looked at him a moment before she answered. “He was a very nice guy. A soldier. I met him at a dance.”

The tense in which she spoke suddenly sank into his mind. He looked into her eyes. “He didn’t come back?” he asked softly.

She shook her head almost imperceptibly. “He—he didn’t come back.”

He took both her hands. “I’m sorry, Janey. I didn’t know. No one told me.”

“No one could. They didn’t know where you were. We tried to locate you, but everything was all mixed up and we couldn’t get anything straight.”

They were silent for a few seconds, then she spoke again. “But things aren’t so bad. I’ve got the cutest little son.”

Johnny looked at her. She stared back into his eyes. Her gaze was steady, even a little bit proud. He dropped his eyes to her hands. “There are a lot of things I got to catch up with around here,” he said. “Everything has changed.”

“Not everything, Johnny,” she said. “Only what you think has changed.”

12

All morning Johnny sat in his office with Peter. He listened quietly as Peter patiently explained the things that had happened while he was away. The business had grown in a manner that even Johnny had not expected. Magnum’s profit last year alone amounted to over three million dollars.

They were now producing thirty feature pictures a year and a complete line of short subjects, which included two-reel and one-reel comedies, travelogues, newsreels, and animated cartoons. And, as Peter said, this was not enough. The demand for film entertainment seemed to be insatiable. Already he had plans under way to enlarge the studio to a fifty-picture-per-year capacity.

In addition to producing pictures, Magnum now owned in conjunction with George over forty theaters throughout the country and was planning to acquire or build as many more.

There was under discussion at the moment the advisability of Magnum establishing its own branch offices in principal cities throughout the country and distributing its own pictures. This would do away with the states’ rights distributors, who now acted as Magnum’s agents, and would save the company many thousands of dollars a year that it now paid as sales commissions. Borden last year had established his chain of exchanges as he called them, and it had been a very profitable one for him.

When Johnny had gone into the army, Magnum had employed a little over two hundred people at its studio and about forty people in New York. Now it employed over eight hundred people at the studio and almost two hundred people in its New York office, and plans were under way that would call for further expansion of both.

Johnny listened as his mind quietly assorted and catalogued what he heard. Peter no longer took complete charge of the studio. A studio manager was now responsible for production and answered only to Peter for his work. Sales were broken down into two divisions, domestic and foreign, each with a sales manager and his assistants, who were responsible for the business in their respective territories.

Next year Peter planned to go abroad with his foreign sales manager and establish offices and branch companies in every foreign country in the world.

Peter’s job was now one of a coordinator and the responsibilities were many and varied. To do this job he needed capable assistants and people he could trust. Since his time was so taken up that he could not possibly give full attention to every matter that needed him, he had it in mind that Johnny would assume the job of his number-one assistant.

Johnny would stay in New York and everything that had to do with the running of the business would flow through him. Only those problems which absolutely needed Peter’s decision would be passed on to him, and those that did not need his personal attention would be settled by Johnny.

To undertake this tremendous program of expansion Peter had instituted negotiations with the Bank of Independence, Al Santos’s bank, for a loan of four and a half million dollars. When he heard the amount a low whistle escaped Johnny’s lips. He was surprised not only because Peter spoke so casually and matter-of-factly about borrowing so large a sum of money, but also because Al Santos’s bank was capable of lending that amount.

All through the morning as they talked, people kept coming in—men Johnny had known before, who came in to wish him welcome home, and men he had not known before, who were anxious to meet this man who was to take over the position of number-one assistant to the boss. There was throughout these meetings, no matter how brief, a feeling of mutual exploration and testing, the men trying to determine just how close Johnny actually was to the boss, and Johnny trying to fit them and their importance into the present organization.

There was also something new that Johnny, ever quick to sense the relationship of people, placed immediately and began to feel. A number of cliques had begun to form and make themselves felt. Different factions and groups within the organization were trying constantly to reach the boss’s ear. He leaned back in his chair and smiled at Peter. “My head is spinning,” he confessed ruefully. “I had no idea that the business had so expanded. I’ll have to learn it all over again.”

Peter smiled back at him proudly. “You won’t have any trouble,” he said confidently; “it’s the same old business, only there’s more of it.” He got to his feet and looked down at Johnny. “Ready for lunch now?” he asked. “George will be waiting at the restaurant for us.”

Johnny looked across the room to where Rocco had been sitting on the couch throughout their meeting. He had sat there quietly as if he were a part of the furniture in the office and he moved only when Johnny spoke to him or when Johnny wanted something. His dark-brown eyes had been on Johnny all morning, watching intently for any sign of weakness in him. They had seen none since the early morning. On the contrary, they had seen Johnny bloom into a new kind of life, take on an expectancy, a challenge, an excitement, that he had never seen in Johnny before. Much of what he had heard did not make sense to him, but he could see that Johnny had absorbed it all like a sponge soaking up liquid.

He had watched Johnny meet people with a sort of quiet warmth and charm that he had never thought Johnny possessed. The army was not the place to bring out such qualities in a man, he thought, but now he was beginning to understand why Joe Turner had acted toward Johnny as he did.

It was only when Johnny stood up that this quality in him seemed to disappear. His face would become strained and white and he would grow self-conscious and ill at ease and stumble and stammer over his choice of words, where ordinarily his conversation was concise and direct.

It was at such moments that sympathy for Johnny would pour over him like a wave. He could almost sense the pride that Johnny had once had in his body and in his physical appearance—the pride in having a body that matched his mind. Young and strong and healthy and filled with life and excitement and a sense of accomplishment.

He saw Johnny looking at him. In that look he read Johnny’s mute appeal. Quietly he left his seat and walked over to him. He put one arm under Johnny’s shoulders as Johnny adjusted the crutches. He handed him his hat as they went to the door.

“It’s too bad that something can’t be done about it,” he said to himself, thinking about Johnny’s leg. But nothing could be done about it. There was nobody on God’s earth who could give it back to him.

At the door Johnny stopped and turned to Peter. “We’re going to have to do something about Rock,” he said in an embarrassed tone of voice. “I can’t get along without him.”

Peter looked swiftly from one to the other. Rocco didn’t speak. “There’s a job for him here with you,” Peter said quickly, “if he wants it.” He paused for a second, then spoke again. “It’ll pay seventy-five a week,” he added.

Johnny looked at Rocco. Rocco was thinking. Seventy-five per was more than he could make if he went back to a barber shop. It was nice dough. Besides, he had promised Johnny that he would stick with him. Almost imperceptibly he nodded his head.

Johnny turned to Peter and smiled. “Thanks, Peter. He’ll take it.”

Rocco stood in the doorway and watched them walk through Jane’s office and out into the hall. Jane got up from her desk and walked over to him.

“You like him, don’t you?” she asked.

He turned his gaze to her and looked into her eyes steadily. His eyes were dark and unfathomable, but there was a warmth in them that she could feel. “Yes,” he answered simply. “Don’t you?”

It was a moment before her reply came to him. “I loved him once,” she said in a soft, puzzled voice. “And I love him now. Only they’re different kinds of love.” She looked down at the floor trying to find the words that would express what she felt. She looked up into Rocco’s eyes; they were warm and friendly.

“It must be something when you can love a guy like mad at one time and then it is gone when you find that he doesn’t love you. Not that way. And you can like him for what he is and then that liking turns into another kind of a love—a kind that seems to last without any memories of the hurt that the other body left. It must be something.”

His voice was quiet. “It could be respect.”

“It could be,” she admitted. “But it’s more than that. I can’t just explain it. But it’s not me I’m thinking about just now. It’s Doris.”

“Doris,” he repeated after her. “Who is she?”

“Peter’s daughter,” she replied. “She is in love with him. And I think he was in love with her before he went away, even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself.”

“Why?”

“She’s ten years younger than he. And he sort of helped bring her up since she was a kid. She used to call him uncle.”

“Oh, I see,” Rocco said slowly.

“But now,” Jane continued as if he hadn’t spoken at all, “I don’t think the kid’s got a chance. Somehow I feel that Johnny has closed his mind to her. He hasn’t said a word about her all morning. Didn’t even ask how she was. Now I feel that he is going to shut her out of his heart too.”

“He’s got a reason,” Rocco said, coming to his friend’s defense. “He doesn’t want to stick the kid now that he’s lost a leg.”

She looked at him. “It wouldn’t make any difference to her. It wouldn’t make any difference to anyone who is really in love.”

“It does when you’re the one who feels that you’re the burden,” Rocco said.

Jane didn’t answer. She turned to her desk and picked up her pocketbook and began to make up her face.

For a moment Rocco stood watching her, a sort of half smile on his face; then he spoke. “If you haven’t a date for lunch,” he asked, “how about me?”

She looked at him in surprise, then she smiled suddenly, almost mischievously. “You want to hear the whole story?” she asked.

“I’d like to,” he admitted frankly.

“It began like this,” she said, opening a closet and taking out her hat. “I was secretary to Sam Sharpe, an agent, and Johnny came into the office.” She stopped in front of a mirror and put on her hat. In the mirror she looked at him in a sort of surprise. “No, it didn’t,” she said in a wondering tone of voice; “it started long before that, before I ever knew him.”

Her hat was on and she turned around to face him. There was a warm, friendly smile on her lips. “Come to lunch,” she said, “and I’ll try to tell you the story from the beginning.”

He took his hat and followed her from the office.

13

Luncheon had been a quiet affair. Peter and George had done most of the talking and Johnny listened. There was much he felt he had to learn and they were equally anxious to bring him up to date. Both men carefully avoided references to Johnny’s injury; neither did they talk about Joe, for fear of bringing back unpleasant memories to him.

It passed quickly, and when Peter left Johnny at his office, he told him he would pick him up after the screenings that had been arranged for him were over. Johnny looked at him. “You don’t have to do that, Peter,” he said, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Peter was surprised. “What do you mean? You’re not coming home with me for dinner? After Esther has been planning all day to make your favorite dish—
knedloch
and chicken soup? And Doris is coming special down from school to be with us. It’s like old times again, Johnny. You’re coming home for dinner and I won’t take no for an answer. I don’t understand how you can think of anything else on your first night home.”

Johnny looked at him dumbly. Doris. He had tried not to think of her all day, but he knew he would have to face it some time. She thought she was in love with him once, but it was silly, it was only a schoolgirl infatuation. She would be over it now.

But he knew he was wrong. He knew that it was something deeper and stronger than that. Otherwise he would not have felt as he had. And now, without a leg, a returning soldier. He could imagine her sympathy going out to him and awakening the feelings he had when he had gone away.

There was no way out, however. He would have to go and face it. And if she said anything about how they had felt and acted before he had left, he would have to tell her that it was only a kid thing on her part—that he had never felt anything but affection for her as a child.

Peter was looking at him. Peter would think it strange if he did not come—if he did not want to. He would be hurt. And Esther would feel bad too.

He forced a smile to his lips. “All right, if you want me to,” he said. “I just didn’t want to be any trouble to you.”