Breakfast at Tiffanys-11
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Even the famous ohe one only speak German, boy, did he throw iowel. You t talk her out of these" -- he made a fist, as though to crush anintangible -- "ideas. Try it sometime. Get her to tell you some of the stuff shebelieves. Mind you," he said, "I like the kid. Everybody does, but theres lots thatdont. I do. I sincerely like the kid. Im sensitive, thats<u>.</u> why. Youve got to besensitive to appreciate her: a streak of the poet. But Ill tell you the truth. You beat your brains out for her, and shell hand you horseshit on a platter. To give anexample -- who is she like you see her today? Shes strictly a girl youll read whereshe ends up at the bottom of a bottle of Seals. Ive seen it happen more timesthan youve got toes: and those kids, they werent even nuts. Shes nuts.""But young. And with a great deal of youth ahead of her."
"If you mean future, youre wrong again. Now a couple of years back, out on theCoast, there was a time it couldve been different. She had something w forher, she had them ied, she couldve really rolled. But when you walk out on athing like that, you dont walk back. Ask Luise Rainer. And Rainer was a star. Sure,Holly was no star; she never got out of the still department. But that was before TheStory of D９９lib.r. Wassell. Then she couldve really rolled. I know, see, cause Im the guywas givihe push." He pointed his cigar at himself. "O.J. Berman."
He expected reition, and I didnt mind obliging him, it was all right by me,except Id never heard of O.J. Berman. It developed that he was a Hollywood actent.
"Im the first one saw her. Out at Santa Anita. Shes hanging around the trackevery day. Im ied: professionally. I find out shes some jocks regular, shesliving with the shrimp. I get the jock told Drop It if he dont want versation withthe vice boys: see, the kids fifteen. But stylish: shes okay, she es across. Evenwhen shes wearing glasses this thick; even when she opens her mouth and youdont know if shes a hillbilly or an Okie or what. I still dont. My guess, nobodyllever know where she came from. Shes such a goddamn liar, maybe she dont knowherself any more. But it took us a year to smooth out that at. How we did itfinally, we gave her French lessons: after she could imitate French, it wasnt so longshe could imitate English. We modeled her along the Margaret Sullavan type, but <var>.</var>shecould pite curves of her own, people were ied, big ones, and to top itall, Benny Polan, a respected guy, Benny wants to marry her. A could ask formore? Then wham! The Story of Dr. Wassell. You see that picture? Cecil B. DeMille.
Gary Cooper. Jesus. I kill myself, its all set: theyre going to test her for the part ofDr. Wassells nurse. One of his nurses, anyway. Then wham! The phs." Hepicked a telepho of the air and held it to his ear. "She says, this is Holly, I sayhoney, you sound far away, she says Im in New York, I say what the hell are youdoing in New York whe<mark></mark>n its Sunday and you got the test tomorrow? She says Im inNew York cause Ive never been to New York. I say get your ass on a plane aback here, she says I dont want it. I say whats yle, doll? She says you gotto want it to be good and I dont want it, I say well, what the hell do you want, andshe says when I find out youll be the first to know. See what I mean: horseshit on aplatter."
The red cat jumped off its crate and rubbed againsbbr>藏书网</abbr>t his leg. He lifted the cat ooe of his shoe and gave him a toss, which was hateful of him except he seemednot aware of the cat but merely his own irritableness.
"This is what she wants?" he said, flinging out his arms. "A lot of characters theyarent expected? Living off tips. Running around with bums. So maybe she arry Rusty Trawler? You should pin a medal on her for that?"
He waited, glaring.
"Sorry, I dont know him."
"You dont know Rusty Trawler, you t know much about the kid. Bad deal," hesaid, his tongue clug in his huge head. "I was hoping you maybe had influence.
Could level with the kid before its too late."
"But acc to you, it already is."
He blew a sm, let it fade before he smiled; the smile altered his face,made somethile happen. "I could get it rolling again. Like I told you," he said,and now it sourue, "I sincerely like the kid."
"What sdals are you spreading, O.J.?" Holly splashed into the room, a towelmore or less ed round her and her wet feet dripping footmarks on the floor.
"Just the usual. That youre nuts.
"Fred knows that already."
"But you dont."
"Light me a cigarette, darling," she said, snatg off a bathing cap and shakingher hair. "I dont mean you, O.J. Youre such a slob. You always nigger-lip."
She scooped up the cat and swung him onto her shoulder. He perched there withthe balance of a bird, his paws tangled in her hair as if it were knitting yarn; a,despite these amiable antics, it was a grim cat with a pirates cutthroat face; one eyewas gluey-blind, the other sparkled with dark deeds.
"O.J. is a slob," she told me, taking the cigarette Id lighted. "But he does know aterrific lot of phone numbers. Whats David O. Selzniumber, O.J.?"
"Lay off."
"Its not a joke, darling. I want you to call him up and tell him what a genius Fredis. Hes written barrels of the most marvelous stories. Well, dont blush, Fred: youdidnt say you were a genius, I did. e on, O.J. What are you going to do to makeFred rich?"
"Suppose you let me settle that with Fred."
"Remember," she said, leaving us, "Im his agent. Ahing: if I holler, ezipper me up. And if anybody knocks, let them in."
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