“Ah but then Schultz you do take the fucking cake sometimes. You really do. You are so preposterously bluffing that it becomes quite endearing.”
In the plush ornamented chairman’s office of Sperm Productions, his Lordship, through the mildly entertaining afternoons, often sat there in his brocaded Edwardian chair just glowing with approval at the sorry financially impoverished mess that Schultz was usually presently in. Needing as he so desperately did not only the sixteen thousand quid requested of his Lordship but also about sixty thousand more. And his Lordship would sit back delightfully amused as the uncontrollable Schultz paced the carpet smacking his forehead with the palm of his hand, repeating over and over.
“Jesus christ, Jesus christ, I got to fly to fucking New York.”
“Schultz if I may say so, you are already flying. Over the fucking carpet that you’re prematurely and unnecessarily wearing out.”
But again too, his Lordship realised that Schultz, even seen in his very worst panics might be the real McCoy. And a genuine man of the theatre. Who knew deep in his aesthetic bones what the unpredictable public wanted. And his Lordship was becoming nervously suspicious that this, Schultz’s latest musical attempt following his three previous resounding flops, might be the one which would set the West End ablaze with its glory.
“Ah Schultz you read all the theatre and film trade magazines cover to cover. You know off by heart the current gross of every Broadway and West End theatre. You have on your fingertips the name of every actress’s agent as well as the actress’s home telephone number. Surely that must impress investors to invest.”
“Come on your Lordship, do you want to be fucking well left behind, I’m telling you, it’s going to be a big hit.”
His Lordship as he often did stood up and changed his seat in this Sperm Productions’ most commodious office. With its satin royal crimsons which dripped and draped everywhere. And which did provoke some unfeeling persons to refer to the decor as Whore’s Georgian. His Lordship now crossing to sit down on the blue and white striped chaise longue to regard the pleading Schultz benignly as the latter like an all in wrestler stood there in the foreground, waiting to come to grips with his hair carefully combed to accentuate his black curly locks and his foot idly kicking to dislodge little whorls of wool from the new crimson carpet.
“God you are a poor wretched sod Schultz, aren’t you.”
“Sure sure, O.K. but I’m telling you this is a fucking hit we’re talking about.”
The wall photographs of past Kings and Queens of London’s theatre and of current famous Hollywood stars flashed in the bursts of afternoon sunlight. But through it all, his extremely eccentric Lordship, who upon occasion wore his shirts inside out or even brushed his teeth with the back of his toothbrush, merely seemed to wait for Schultz’s anxiety to explode.
“Ah Schultz, if you did but realise it, I do at times expect to find you left in scattered pieces all over the floor.”
“Sure. But I get the fucking show on the road every time.”
“Ah Schultz, but there are other times, that you can be found to be such a charmer.”
“Come on, holy shit your Lordship don’t you want to become fucking rich.”
Although his Lordship did not hugely enjoy making bad business judgements he would, when he found people at their most abject and in their most miserable moments, back them when no one else would. Taking it all in good grace when later the time came to heartily and most financially regret. But such instances he regarded as adding spice to life.
“Now Schultz, something that intrigues me. Where did you unearth your list of investors. In this morning’s post alone came four returned letters marked deceased. I think that might indicate that your list is not quite up to date. Or else you obtained it from some funeral furnisher.”
And on this particular day and in this last hour of rapidly hung up telephones, Schultz’s every other investing prospect had opted out and the afternoon was ending in real deep horror for this embattled impresario. Yet not once did Schultz offer to increase his Lordship’s share of the profits on his sixteen thousand pounds. Which was lucky. As this made his Lordship cautiously conclude that there might be some real possibilities in the deal after all.
“Ah Schultz indeed, perhaps you do have some actual acumen in you.”
“Boy thanks a lot.”
“Don’t thank me. I think you should thank that uncle of yours the diamond merchant.”
“Jesus Uncle Werb. Don’t remind me. Sometimes I think I should have listened to him. I wish the fuck I had some of the money that bastard has. He’d say, now Sigmund, before your very eyes. That. That is two million dollars worth of diamonds.”
“Of course Schultz, didn’t he want you to apprentice. To that more than likely profitable trade.”
“Holy shit. I didn’t want to go haggling around in those black hatted and coated little groups with those yiddish guys for the rest of my fucking life. And hey your Lordship, meanwhile would you mind if I borrowed a cigarette.”
“My god Schultz you’ve got your nerve to ask me for a cigarette at a time like this. And you must not address me as your Lordship unless you merely intend being amusing since it is the style used by those assuming an employee status.”
Regarding cigarettes, these same words were used by his Lordship on his first meeting with Schultz and persisted throughout their relationship. As Schultz had given up smoking only during such times as he was not in his Lordship’s presence. But whenever his Lordship lit up, Schultz would invariably request a white tube of tobacco to light up as well.
“For god’s sake Schultz why don’t you buy your own cigarettes.”
“Well I don’t smoke.”
“Well you smoke whenever you see me.”
“Well, the rest of the time I don’t.”
“Well I do sometimes wish you would Schultz so you’d have your own cigarettes. And although I myself indulge this insanitary and unhealthy habit I dislike encouraging it in others.”
“Now come on, if you won’t come in for sixteen thou the least you can do is give me those addresses and phone numbers of these rich aristocrat friends you know all over the place.”
“I assure you Schultz that the words rich and aristocrat which were once so inseparable are no longer and it is more than likely you’ll find that either word rarely these days becomes the adjective of the other in describing any of my acquaintances.”
Their strange compatibility seemed to proceed on these lines. First his Lordship’s absolute refusal then a slight weakening and finally after nonstop afternoon’s harassment his Lordship’s acquiescence. Except that his Lordship always firmly reneged in the matter of Schultz being allowed access to his Lordship’s affluent influential friends.
“Come on for christ’s sake, how can that hurt you if I meet these other aristocrats you know. Well what about your sisters or their husbands then. I meant christ, they’re family. They’d understand.”
“Good god Schultz do you think I would for one second release you uncollared upon innocent people. To rip and tear at them the way you do me. Sometimes Schultz you are exactly like a stage show.”
“What do you mean, stage show. What stage show.”
“One which ought to be closed.”
Above all his Lordship was most relieved that Schultz had not managed to impress his two younger and stunningly beautiful sisters Lady Audrey and Emeline who from time to time when up to London shopping, left packages and messages at the offices of Sperm Productions. And who were contentedly married to gentlemen in the Foreign Office, and Royal Navy respectively.