IN THE SOFTLY LIT, caramel-colored dressing room, Vicki held court, stretching her golden legs along the deep carpet, seated on a short stool facing a many-sided mirror, talking to the others through the reflections, turning occasionally to supervise the pouring of the cocktails.
Presently they heard the grinding of gears and the groan of the trucks coming toward them up the road from the highway.
“That’ll be the trailers,” Vicki said. “Now you’ll have your own rooms and you can freshen up if you like.”
The Governor and the others stood and looked through the blinds as workmen directed and assisted in setting up the staggered line of trailer houses.
“Are there telephones in those things?” the Governor asked.
“Oh yes — or there will be in a few minutes. We’ve also got a little intertrailer communication system. If you need anything, just pick up the pink phone. It’ll ring in Ed Shavers’ office, and somebody there will help you.”
“I’ve got some phone calls — there’s some work I have to do. No — no Sarah, you needn’t come. Just some calls. I’ll try to get it over with in a hurry, Miss Vicki, so I can watch that scene of yours they’re shooting.”
He turned and raised his glass to the others, finishing off the drink; then headed out the door. Mrs. Fenstemaker began to ask Vicki about movie stars. Jay and Sarah sat quietly while Vicki patiently answered her questions. Hoot Gibson followed the maid into another room and managed to have her serve him the bourbon straight — “raht on top uh them rocks.”
Arthur Fenstemaker found a small writing table in the other trailer, where he seated himself and placed the call. It was close and uncomfortable at first in the stale air, but then the generators began to throb and the draperies moved silently in the coolness of the room. The draperies were splotched with half-moons and shafts of bright colors and spindly-legged martian creatures with clocks for faces. Arthur Fenstemaker looked at them, fascinated, until the call came through.
“Arthur — you all right?”
“Well, they are running hell out of me. They won’t give me any rest, and now I’m out here in no man’s land trying to —
“Arthur, you are a pretty tough customer — one of the toughest. Do you want to come up here tomorrow. Is that it?”
“I can’t come tomorrow. I want to come before you do this terrible thing that I heard this morning you are getting ready to do.”
“I’m not going to do anything to you, Arthur.”
“Well somebody’s after me — haven’t I been square with your bunch?”
“You’ve been more than square, Arthur. What is it you want?”
“I want you to get a sixty-day extension. That’ll give me time to —”
“Extension on what?”
“You know what. Hell and goddam — if you do this terrible thing —”
“What can you do in sixty days?”
“I don’t know. But we can reason together. You do this thing now and you’ll have a mess on your hands. You’ll defeat me, and the kind of fellow taking my place will have promised everything short of civil war to get in. I’ve been what you bastards up there call moderate. They’ll be calling me a Communist down here if you do this thing. You’ll crucify me, beat me, and there’ll be nothing moderate about whoever happens to be the next Governor.”
“I didn’t even know you were running for re-election.”
“Well somebody up there does — you can bet your sweet life on that. First I heard of this was sprung on me this morning, just before I was leaving for this no man’s land —”
“Where the hell are you, anyway?”
“Never mind about that. They called me and told me what you people were about to do in the courts. I didn’t know any action was even being contemplated. My God it would kill me. You realize that?
“Yes, but —”
“You know what my position is. I want to cooperate in any way I can. I want to abide by the law. But you get somebody stirring up the people and I’ll have a riot on my hands. And then pretty soon you won’t have me here to smooth things over. For example — there are a bunch of segregationists down in —”
“Wait a minute, Governor …”
“There are these segregationists and they’re bringing in this bird from — Well you know who he is. It’s been in all the papers. He’s making a speech tomorrow night, and they’ve got these special buses taking members of the Legislature down —”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute. Let me ask you a question or two. I don’t know whether I can get this postponed. It’ll take some work, I can tell you —”
“I appreciate that …”
“I don’t know if I can. If I do, I don’t want any credit for it, and if I don’t, I don’t want any credit for it.”
“Neither do I. I’m not talkin’ to anyone. My staff doesn’t even know about it …”
“There are a lot of things I can’t do. And messing around with the courts is one of them.”
“I know that. But this was instigated by your people. Who they are I don’t know. But you can take the pressure off. Sixty days is all I ask. Somebody up here’s trying to defeat me.”
“The way you say it, I belong to a giant conspiracy.”
“No, no. The wicked fleeth when no man pursueth. I’m ready, willing and able to do the right thing — in sixty days. I need a stay of execution.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“You’re a good man. God bless you.”
“Well you’re all right yourself. I’ll call you.”
“When?”
“I don’t know — when it’s settled.”
“Call me at the Capitol. My office will know where I am.”
“All right.”
“All right.”