They looked at one another, considering the idea, surprised at themselves that they were considering it. Beyond them I saw Robinson coming this way from the house, carrying the phone. I said, “An invitation from an ex-cop. How can you turn it down?”
They grinned at one another, and Ken said, “You’re right. Top drawer on the left, you say?”
“That’s it.”
Robinson, arriving, put the phone on the table and politely waited. Ken and Chuck went off toward the poolhouse, and Robinson said, “Mr. Novak.”
“Ah-hah.” Could this be work at last? I took the phone and said, “Zack?”
“Danny Silvermine—”
“No, Zack.”
“Just listen,” he said.
“No. I told you almost two weeks ago, when Silvermine said no to the idea of me doing an original. I don’t want it. His scripts were adequate, but—”
“Sam, darling, listen.”
When Zack Novak calls me darling, it means he’s nearing the end of his rope. “All right,” I said. “I’m listening.”
“Forget the dinner theater,” he told me.
“I already did.”
“Good. Our good friend Danny Silvermine has come up with a brand new— Oops!”
“Oops?”
“Hold it! Don’t go away!” And here came the unmistakable woolly sound of hold.
“Not again,” I told the dead phone, then hung it up and handed it to Robinson. “Take this away,” I said. “Of course,” he said.
“When Mr. Novak calls again, tell him I’m not interested in anything Danny Silvermine thinks.”
“Yes,” he said.
“Tell him I’m not interested in recycling Jack Packard in the theater, in bubble gum cards, in needlepoint pillows, or anywhere else.”
“Very well,” he said.
“Tell him I want work, real, honest-to-God, legitimate acting work.”
“I shall,” he said.
“And tell him I said, ‘Don’t put me on hold!’ Direct quote.”
“Quote don’t put me on hold unquote,” he said.
“Exactly. Oh, and bring my guests a couple of Tabs. Chlorine makes people thirsty.”
“Will that be all?” Robinson asked, and arched a stern brow at me.
I didn’t feel like being browbeaten right now. “For the moment,” I said.
Robinson nodded, accepting the inevitable, and departed. I stood, shrugged out of the robe, and went over to the edge of the pool. For just an instant, I saw again that other pool filled with dirt, imagined again the distorted bodies in the black tunnel, blood coming from their ears. But then the images faded for the last time. It was better to be up here, where I could stretch myself and feel the sun getting warmer every day.
Dancing water sparkled shards of sky in my eyes. Bly drifted through it, head raised, grinning up at me. “You’re smiling,” she said.
“Why not,” I said, and dove in.