hr.thecarpetbaggers-第62节
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Rina held the steaming cup to her lips。 〃This is good；〃 she said over the rim。 She sipped again； then leaned her head against the back of the couch。 〃I'm really so pooped I'm not even hungry。〃
〃You have a right to be；〃 Ilene answered。 〃You haven't had a week off in the year since you finished The Renegade。 Three pictures； one right after the other； and next week you're starting another。 It's a wonder you haven't collapsed。〃
Rina looked at her。 〃I like to work。〃
〃So do I；〃 Ilene replied quickly。 〃But there's a point where you have to draw the line。〃
Rina didn't answer。 She sipped at her coffee and picked up a copy of Variety。 Idly she turned the page。 She stopped at a headline； read for a moment； then held the paper out to Ilene。 〃Have you seen this？〃
Ilene glanced down at the paper。 The headline caught her eye。 It was typical Varietese：
THE RENEGADE'S BIGGEST HAUL … BOX OFFICE
In a year filled with cries from moaning exhibitors and anguished producers about the seemingly bottomless pit into which motion…picture grosses are falling； it's encouraging to note one ray of sunshine。 It was reliably learned from informed sources that the domestic gross of The Renegade passed the five…million…dollar mark last week； a little less than one year after release。 Based on these figures； the Rina Marlowe vehicle； with many subsequents still to be played in the U。S。 and the rest of the world still to be heard from； can be expected to gross at ten million dollars。 The Renegade； a Norman release； was produced and bankrolled by Jonas Cord； a rich young Westerner better known for his record…breaking flight from Paris to L。A。 last year； and also features Nevada Smith。
Ilene looked up from the paper。 〃I saw it。〃
〃Does that mean everyone got their money back？〃
〃I guess it does；〃 Ilene said。 〃That is； if Bernie didn't steal them blind。〃
Rina smiled。 She felt a surge of relief。 At least； Nevada didn't have to worry now。 She picked up a sandwich and began to eat ravenously。 〃Suddenly I'm hungry；〃 she said between mouthfuls。
Silently Ilene refilled her coffee cup； then poured one for herself。 Rina ate quickly and in a few minutes； she had finished。 She took a cigarette from the small box on the table and lit it。
She leaned back and blew the smoke at the ceiling。 A faint touch of color came back into her cheeks。 〃I feel better now。 We can try on those costumes as soon as I finish this cigarette。〃
〃No hurry；〃 Ilene said。 〃I have time。〃
Rina got to her feet。 〃We might as well get started；〃 she said； grinding her cigarette out in an ash tray。 〃I just remembered； I have a breakfast layout to do for Screen Stars magazine at six o'clock in the morning。〃
Ilene walked over to the closet and slid back the doors。 Six pairs of circus…style chemise tights； each in a different color； hung there。 Rina took one down and turned to Ilene； holding the brief costume in front of her。 〃They get smaller and smaller。〃
Ilene smiled。 〃Bernie himself gave the orders for those。 After all； the name of the picture is The Girl on the Flying Trapeze。〃
She took the costume and held it while Rina began to undress。 Rina turned her back as she slipped out of her dress and struggled into the tight…fitting costume。 〃Whew！〃 she gasped。 〃Maybe I shouldn't have eaten those sandwiches！〃
Ilene stepped back and studied the costume。 〃Better step up on the pedestal；〃 she said。 〃There are a few things I'll have to do。〃
Quickly she chalked out the alterations。 〃O。K。；〃 she said。 〃Let's try the next one。〃
Rina reached behind her to unfasten the hooks。 One of them stuck。 〃You'll have to help me； Ilene。 I can't get out of this thing。〃
Rina stepped down from the pedestal and turned her back to Ilene。 Deftly Ilene freed the hook。 The cloth parted quickly and her fingers brushed against Rina's naked back。 They tingled with the firm； warm touch of her flesh。 Ilene felt the rush of blood to her temples。 She stepped back quickly as if she had touched a hot iron。 Too many times had she been tempted to let a thing like this get her into trouble。 It had taken too many years to get this job。
Rina dropped the top of the costume to her waist and struggled to get the tights over her hips。 She looked at Ilene。 〃I'm afraid you'll have to help me again。〃
Ilene kept her face a mask。 〃Step back on the pedestal；〃 she said through stiff lips。
Rina got back on the pedestal and turned toward her。 Ilene tugged at the garment； her fingers burning where they touched Rina。 At last； the tights gave way and Ilene felt Rina shiver as her hand accidentally brushed the soft silken pubis。
〃Are you cold？〃 Ilene asked； stepping back。
Rina stared at her for a moment； then averted her eyes。 〃No；〃 she answered in a low voice； stepping out of the tights。 She picked them up and held them toward Ilene。
Ilene reached for the costume； touched Rina's hand and suddenly couldn't let it go。 She looked up at Rina steadily； her heart choking inside her。
Rina shivered again。 〃No；〃 she whispered； her eyes still looking away。 〃Please； don't。〃
Ilene felt as if she were in a dream。 Nothing seemed real。 〃Look at me；〃 she said。
Slowly Rina turned her head。 Their eyes met and Ilene could sense her trembling。 She saw Rina's nipples burst forth upon her breasts like awakening red flowers on a white field。
She moved toward her and buried her face in the pale soft flax between her hips。 They were very still for a moment； then she felt Rina's hand lightly brushing across her hair。 She stepped back and Rina came down into her arms。
Ilene felt the hot tears suddenly push their way into her eyes。 〃Why？〃 she cried wildly。 〃Why did you have to marry him？〃
As usual； Nevada awoke at four thirty in the morning； pulled on a pair of worn Levi's and went down to the stables。 As usual； on his way out； he closed the connecting door between their rooms to let Rina know he had gone out。
The wrangler was waiting with a steaming mug of bitter black range coffee。 Their conversation followed the routine morning pattern as Nevada felt the hot coffee scald its way down to his stomach。
The mug empty； and Nevada in the lead； they walked through the stable； looking into each stall。 At the end was Whitey's stall。 Nevada came to a stop in front of it。 〃Mornin'； boy；〃 he whispered。
The palomino stuck its head over the gate and looked at Nevada with large； intelligent eyes。 It nuzzled against Nevada's hand； searching for the lump of sugar it knew would appear there。 It wasn't disappointed。
Nevada opened the gate and went into the stall。 He ran his hands over the sleek； glistening sides of the animal。 〃We're gettin' a little fat； boy；〃 he whispered。 〃That's because we haven't had much to do lately。 I better take you out for a little exercise。〃
Without speaking； the wrangler handed him the big saddle that lay crosswise on the partition between the stalls。 Nevada slung it over the horse's back and cinched it tight。 He placed the bit in the mouth and led the animal out of the stable。 In front of the white…painted wooden building； he mounted up。
He rode down the riding trail to the small exercise track he had built at the foot of the hill in back of the house。 He could see the gray spires of the roof as he rode past。 Mechanically he put the horse through its paces。
The item he had read in Variety came to his mind。 His lip curved at the irony。 Here he was with the biggest…grossing picture of the year and not once during that whole period had anyone approached him about beginning another。 The day of the big Western movie was over。 It was too expensive。
At least he wasn't the only one； he thought。 Mix； Maynard； Gibson； Holt … they were all in the same boat。 Maynard had tried to fight it。 He made a series of quickies for Universal； which took about five days to plete。 Nevada had seen one of them。 Not for him。 The picture was choppy and the sound worse。 Half the time； you couldn't even understand what the actors were saying。
Tom Mix had tried something else。 He'd taken a Wild…West show to Europe and； if the trade papers were right； he and his horse； Tony； had knocked them dead。 Maybe that was worth thinking about。 The troop he had on the road was still doing all right。 If he went out with it； it would do even better。 It was that or take up the guitar。
That was the new Western … a singing cowboy and a guitar。 He felt a vague distaste even as he thought about it。 That chubby little Gene Autry had made it big。 The only problem； he'd heard from one of the wranglers； was to keep him from falling off his horse。 Tex Ritter was doing all right at Columbia； too。
Nevada looked up again at the house。 That was the biggest stupidity of all … a quarter…million…dollar trap。 It took more than twenty servants to keep it running and ate up money like a pack of prairie wolves devouring a stray steer。 He quickly reviewed his ine。
The cattle ranch in Texas had just started to pay off when the depression hit and now he was lucky if it broke even。 His royalties on the sale of Nevada Smith toys and cowboy suits had dwindled as children shifted their fickle loyalties to other stars。 All that was left was his share of the Wild…West show and the Nevada divorce ranch。 That brought in at
