“How are you, Gordon?” He shook Walker’s hand and gripped his shoulder. “How are Connie and the kids?”
“They’re dead, Al.”
The agent looked at him without expression.
“Hey, that’s funny, Gordon.”
“You always ask. I wondered if you were listening.”
Keochakian bared his teeth.
“I always listen. I want to know. I’m a family man. I’m not like you, you fuck. They’re wasted on you.”
“Connie left me,” Walker said.
“I don’t believe that,” Al said. “It’s impossible and I reject it.”
“She left me a most eloquent letter. A bill of particulars. She seemed very determined. She’s in London.”
“Know what I think? I think she’ll come back. I’m sure of it. If you want her to.” Keochakian sipped his drink and grimaced. “I presume you want her to.”
Walker looked down at his folded hands and nodded slowly.
“Face it, man. Without her you’re fucked. You’ll go down the tubes. You have to get her back.”
“She has her pride.”
“Now you know,” Keochakian said.
“I can’t talk about it today,” Walker said. “I’m too scrambled.”
“That’s fine. But when you do want to talk about it let me know, because I have a few things to say on the subject and I have the right to an opinion.”
Walker chewed his lip and looked away.
“So what do you want to eat?” Al asked.
“Since we’re having martinis,” Walker said, “I’m thinking liver.”
“The liver is good,” Al said. He signaled for a waiter and was attended at once. They ordered. Under his agent’s disapproving eye, Walker called for a half bottle of cabernet.
“Tell me about Seattle.”
“I could spend the rest of my life doing Lear” Walker said. “I’d like to do it all. The Fool. Gloucester, Cordelia. The fucking thing is bottomless.”
“Shelley saw you.”
Walker smiled. “She said. She’s my turtledove.”
“Would you like to work?” Al asked. “I have something good.”
“When?”
“They’d want to test this week. But they asked for you specifically, so I think that’s just a formality.” He was frowning. “Are you tied up or something? Why is it important when?”
Walker made no answer.
“You into something? Will you have a script for me?”
“No,” Walker said. He cleared his throat. “I thought I’d go down to Bahía Honda and look in on The Awakening.”
Al squinted through his green-shaded glasses and shook his head.
“Why?”
Walker shrugged. “Because it’s my baby. I want to see how they’re treating it.”
“I thought we went through this,” Al said. The waiter brought the wine for Walker to taste. When it was poured out, Keochakian covered his own glass with his hand to decline it. “I thought a decision had been made and I thought it was the right one.”
“I’ve decided I want a look-in.”
“A look-in,” the agent said, a toneless echo.
“Make my presence felt.”
“They don’t want you down there,” Al said.
The main course arrived. Walker poured himself a second glass of wine.
“They asked for me once,” Walker said.
Keochakian took his glasses off and shrugged. “They didn’t care, Gordon. Walter thought he might pick your brain a little but he certainly doesn’t need you now. He’ll think you’re crowding his act.”
Walker picked up a fork and looked at his plate.
“I’d like to, you know.”
“They won’t pay. They don’t require you.”
“I’ll pay. I’ll go as a civilian. For the beach.”
Al addressed his liver and onions.
“I think this is unprofessional.”
“I don’t see why,” Walker said. When he began to eat he found that he was very hungry. “It’s not unheard-of.”
“You’re going to see Lee Verger,” Keochakian said. He was avoiding Walker’s eyes.
“It would be nice to see Lu Anne. Look, I’ve got some stake in the picture. Why shouldn’t I go down?”
“Because you work for a living,” Al said. He spoke very slowly and softly. “And I have work for you.”
“I’m not ready,” Walker said vaguely.
“It’s a fun part. It’s big. A faggoty intellectual villain. You’d have a blast.”
“I feel the need to go down to Mexico for a while. When I get back — I’ll be refreshed. I’ll be able to work.”
Keochakian leaned his knife and fork on his plate.
“Let me tell you something, Gordon. If you show up on that set you’ll be digging your own grave.”
Walker laughed bitterly.
“You think it’s funny, fucker?” Keochakian asked. “You know how you look? You’re sweating fucking alcohol. You think I can’t see your eyes? You think people in this business don’t know what drunks look like?”
“I’m quitting tomorrow, for Christ’s sake.”
“Oh,” Al said with a humorless smile, “quitting tomorrow. That’s nice. That’s good, Gordon. Well, I suggest you do that, pal. And I suggest you leave Lee the fuck alone.” He put his fork to the meat, then set it down again. “I mean, go retrieve Connie. Lee doesn’t need you. You’re the last thing she needs. Whereas Connie for her own sick reasons does.”
“I need a trip. Travel is therapy for me.”
Al looked at him and leaned forward across the table.
“If you’re ever unable to work, put yourself in a hospital.”
“Please, Al.”
“Gordon,” Keochakian said, “ten years ago this might have been a joke but it’s not a joke now. Take the cure, man. People do it all the time.”
Walker put a hand to his forehead.
“You have the money. Do yourself a favor. Get out of circulation and dry out. Go East. New England. It’s autumn, they have some good places there, you won’t see anyone you know.”
“I’d go bananas,” Walker said. “A place like that.”
“Maybe it has to be done, Gordon.”
“Well,” Walker said in a placatory manner, “we’ll see how it goes.”
A busboy came and removed their plates. Walker poured wine.
“Too bad you won’t do this thing I have for you. It might get you television.”
“Is that what I want?”
Keochakian’s eyes seemed to glaze. He stared into space and scratched his chin.
“I think I’ll grow a beard, Gordon. A goatee, what do you think?”
“Good, Al. That’d be good.”
“Don’t you dare go down there,” Al said. He shook his finger before Walker’s face. “Don’t you dare undo all the work I’ve done.”
“Sure, Al,” Walker said. “Hey, what work, man?”
“Fuck you, Gordon.”
Walker waited, half expecting him to stand up and leave. They both sat tight, facing one another.
“We made a very favorable deal, financially,” Al said calmly.
“My best fee,” Walker said. “A record.”
“Exactly. We also dealt with some typical Walter Drogue-like ploys.”
“Did we?”
“Yes, we did, Gordon. You may remember his concern over the feminist perspective.”
“I wasn’t aware of it.”
“Walter was worried about the absence of a feminist perspective. He gave us a lot of shit about this. Know what was on his mind?”
“I can guess.”
Keochakian smiled thinly.
“He wanted a writing credit. Not for some broad — for him. He saw the script was good. He thinks the thing might go. He wanted a writing credit for his vanity and to jack more points out of them.”
“Well,” Walker said. “Walter’s a great feminist.”
“Definitely,” Al said. “I hear his father was an even greater feminist. Anyway, that fucking ball would have rolled seven ways from sundown but it would have stopped on a writing credit for Walter Drogue. We were able to checkmate these numbers. We saved your points and credit.”