Son of Stone Page 9

“We can beat that. Sit down.” He pointed Ben at a chair, then sat down himself. “Ben, I think you’re a smart guy.”

  “That’s true, but I’m not as smart as you.”

  “If that’s true, it’s an accident of nature, so don’t worry about it. What’s more important is, you’re a good guy, too.”

  “Thanks, Peter. I feel the same way about you.”

  “For the next four years or so, I’ve got to keep you out of trouble.”

  Ben laughed. “You’ve been talking to my dad.”

  “No, I’ve been talking to my dad, but he feels the same way about it as your dad. The thing is, they’re both right.”

  Ben looked sheepish. “Yeah, I have been in a few scrapes, but I had some fun, too.”

  “We’ve got to find some new ways for you to have fun,” Peter said, “because I’m not going to get involved in any scrapes. There’s too much at stake.”

  “What’s at stake?”

  “Have you ever noticed when some young celebrity gets into drugs or gets arrested for drunk driving, how long it takes him to get over those things? I mean, they end up in jail, then in court, then in rehab, then in community service, and most of them have to go through that two or three times before they finally get it. The ones who don’t get it end up in prison or dead.”

  “Well, yeah, I’ve noticed that.”

  “All that stuff they have to do to get straight takes up years of their lives. You and I don’t need to waste that kind of time getting out of trouble we should never have gotten into in the first place.”

  “You have a point,” Ben conceded.

  “Ben, I think you would make a terrific movie producer.”

  “Really?”

  “You’re smart, you’re good with money, you’re well organized. But you’re not motivated—not yet, anyway.”

  “What should motivate me?”

  “Would you like to be a movie producer?”

  “Yeah, sure I would. Who wouldn’t?”

  “Okay, everybody, but only a few are suited to the work. First of all, you love the movies.”

  “Well, I love everything you’ve shown me.”

  “A good motivation to have would be to want to make movies as good as or better than those.”

  “Yeah, I can see that.”

  “If you’re motivated, then making that happen becomes the most—well, one of the most important things in your life, and you do the things you have to do to achieve that ambition.”

  “What are the things I have to do, if I want to be a movie producer?”

  “First of all, you have to do the things that everybody ought to do anyway, like getting an education and behaving yourself. Then you have to pick out a few things to do that lead you toward your goal.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as coming to Yale Drama School with me, instead of going to Columbia.”

  “Drama school? Me?”

  “Why not? In drama school you’ll learn how to produce a play and a movie, and you’ll meet the kind of people you’ll later be working with when you’re a producer: directors, actors, writers, technicians. And while you’re at it, you should take some business courses, too, particularly accounting and marketing. Then, maybe, you should get an MBA.”

  “Drama school, business school,” Ben mused, half to himself. “You know, that makes a lot of sense—if I decided I wanted to be a movie producer.”

  “Do you have some other career in mind?”

  “My dad wants me to go to law school. I think he wants me to be like Stone.”

  “He’ll get over it. What does your grandfather want you to do?”

  “He says I should do something I love, and he’ll help me get to the top of it.”

  “Can he help you switch from Columbia to Yale?”

  “Just between you and me, Peter, I think my grandfather can make anything happen.”

  “Then he’s a valuable ally. From what I’ve heard about him, he’s very rich, too.”

  “Yeah, I guess he is.”

  “And you’re his only grandchild, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That means you’re going to have a lot of options other kids don’t have.”

  “I never thought of it that way,” Ben said, “but you’re right.”

  “How does this sound, Ben.” Peter raised a hand as if framing a big sign. “A BEN BACCHETTI PRODUCTION OF A FILM BY PETER BARRINGTON.”

  Ben laughed. “Hey, that sounds pretty great!”

  “It can be great, if it’s what we both want. What do you want, Ben?”

  Ben took a deep breath. “I want that.”

  “Are you willing to do the things you have to to get it? Now, I don’t mean stabbing people in the back, the way they seem to do in Hollywood. I mean, are you willing to do the things you have to do to learn how to do it and be great at it?”

  “Yes,” Ben said firmly. “I’m willing to do those things.”

  “And are you willing not to do the things you shouldn’t do?”

  “Yeah, I’m willing not to do those things.”

  “Great! We’ll have a lot more fun if I’m not bailing you out all the time.”

  Ben laughed. “You know, my dad is always saying stuff like this to me, but coming from you, it makes a lot more sense.”

  “I’m glad, Ben. Now, because you’re my friend and I trust you, I want to tell you a couple of things that nobody else knows and that I don’t want anyone else to know until the right time.”

  “You’re right, Peter, you can trust me.”

  “First of all, you’ve probably already figured out that Stone is my biological father.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “And he and my mother are getting married.”

  “Great!”

  “It’s better if all that doesn’t get around.”

  “I understand.”

  “Second, it should help motivate you to know that my mother owns about forty percent of Centurion Studios.”

  Ben stared at him blankly. “The actual Hollywood studio?”

  “That’s right. My stepfather, Vance Calder, was Centurion’s most important star for fifty years, and during that time he bought the studio’s stock every chance he got. A couple of times, he even took payment for acting roles in studio stock.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  “Yes, it is, but it’s going to be even more amazing for you and me. Get your mind around this: one day I’m going to own all that stock, and it’s going to allow me to make any film I want to make at Centurion, and it’s going to allow you to produce it. And it’s going to allow the two of us to run Centurion Studios.”

  Ben sank back in his chair, looking stunned.

  “Now, before you get over that idea, I’ve something else to tell you.”

  “I’m not sure I can stand it,” Ben said.

  “I’m not sure you can, either, but here goes: Ben, I’m only sixteen years old.”

  Ben sat bolt upright, looking at Peter’s face for some sign that he was kidding. “I’m going to be eighteen next month; you mean you’re two years younger than I am?”

  “You’re good at math, Ben.”

  “I can do eighteen minus sixteen.”

  “Now, Ben, my age makes me a freak, at least until I’m in my thirties, when it won’t matter. But, if people think I’m eighteen, then I’m not a freak, and life will be so very much easier for me. Can you understand that?”

  “Sure, I can. Your secret is safe with me, Peter.”

  “Good. And I have a legal birth certificate to prove I’m eighteen. Please remember: life will be easier for both of us if you continue to treat me as if I’m eighteen.”

  Ben smiled broadly. “No sweat, pal.”

  “That means I’m not going to drink until I’m twenty-one, which means until I’m twenty-three. I’m not suggesting that you should wait that long, but you’ll have a better brain in your head if you do.”

  “I’ll think about that.”
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br />   “I’m probably not going to have sex for a while, either, and I don’t need you to give me a hard time about it.”

  “Up to you, Peter.”

  “And it will help our career plan if you don’t get anybody pregnant.”

  “Good point.”

  “Great. Now, are you ready to watch Citizen Kane again?”

  “Are you kidding? I’m ready to produce it!”

  22

  On Christmas Day Stone and Arrington were dressing.

  “Do you think this dress will be all right?” Arrington asked.

  “It’s beautiful,” Stone said, “even if it’s not white.”

  “I think I’m a little beyond the white dress,” Arrington said. Stone kissed her. “You look like a virgin bride to me.”

  She laughed. “It’s going to be fun being married to you.”

  “Let’s be sure to keep it that way,” he said, zipping up her dress.

  “Who did you say is going to marry us?”

  “Eduardo said, ‘an official.’ That probably means a judge. He knows a lot of people like that.” Stone went to his dressing room and came back with a clear plastic box. “Here’s your bouquet,” he said, handing it to her.

  “Oh, it’s beautiful, Stone. I wouldn’t even have thought about that. Where’s the wedding ring?”

  “In my pocket,” Stone said, “for Dino to convey.”

  “Who’s going to give me away?”

  “How about Peter?”

  “Perfect. I don’t guess we’ll have a rehearsal.”

  “No, but if I know Eduardo, we’ll have one hell of a wedding feast.”

  She looked at herself in the mirror. “Am I ready?”

  Stone looked over her shoulder at her reflection. “I don’t think it’s possible to improve on that image.”

  Peter knocked on the door and came into the room. “Are we ready to go?”

  “We are,” Stone said. “What’s in your leather envelope?”

  “Just some stuff for Ben.”

  “Let’s get out of here, then.” They took the elevator down to the garage. Stone got them into the car and backed out into the street.

  Peter rolled down the window a little. “Wow,” he said, “how come the glass is so thick? It wasn’t this thick on our Arnage, in L.A.”

  “Because it’s an armored car.”

  “Why do you need an armored car?” Peter asked. “Is this something I should worry about?”

  “No. When I bought my last car it was already armored, and it turned out to be very helpful a couple of times, especially when I rolled it end-to-end. Mike Freeman’s company has a division that armors vehicles, and when I was out of a car, he lent this to me. I liked it, so I got the law firm to buy it for me. Mike gave them a good deal.”

  “What was the other occasion when having an armored car helped?” Peter asked.

  “Somebody threw something at me from a motorcycle that might have hurt me, except for the armored glass.” Stone didn’t mention that what had been thrown at him was a bullet.

  They drove out to Brooklyn and beyond and pulled into Eduardo’s driveway at exactly twelve-thirty. Pietro, Eduardo’s butler, valet, and probably bodyguard, stepped out the front door and got the car doors for them. “Everybody is ready,” he said. He took their coats in the foyer, then led them down the hall in a direction Stone had never been in the house. He opened a set of double doors, and they stepped into a small, quite beautiful chapel.

  Eduardo greeted them, and Stone introduced Arrington and Peter. Dino and his former wife, Mary Ann, and Ben were there, as were Bill and Marian Eggers, and then they were surprised to be introduced to the mayor of New York.

  “His Honor will perform the ceremony,” Eduardo said.

  “Do you have the license?” the mayor asked.

  Stone handed it to him.

  Eduardo arranged everybody in front of the altar, and the mayor read the ceremony from a small book. Dino dealt with the ring, Peter gave away his mother, and Marian Eggers served as matron of honor. Stone and Arrington kissed and the mayor dealt with the paperwork. “I’ll see that everything is filed,” he said.

  Eduardo led them to his large living room, where his elderly sister supervised the pouring of champagne, and toasts were offered. Then Pietro opened the doors to the dining room, they found their place cards, and were seated. There followed a parade of food that could have fed everyone in a Salvation Army chapel, where, Dino whispered, most of it would end up, with the mayor delivering it personally.

  After Christmas dinner they adjourned to Eduardo’s handsome library for coffee. Ben came over to Peter, whispered something to him, and Peter handed him an envelope from his little leather case. Ben went to his grandfather and asked if he could speak to him alone for a moment. They were out of the room for, perhaps, ten minutes, then returned. Ben flashed Peter a thumbs-up.

  Stone leaned over to Peter, who sat between him and Arrington. “What was that all about?” he asked.

  “Ben’s grandfather is going to help him change from Columbia to Yale, so that we can go to college together. He’s going to pass along my application, too.”

  “You shouldn’t have asked Eduardo to do that without talking with us first,” Arrington said.

  “I didn’t ask him, Ben did.”

  “Still.”

  “Mom, he’s just passing along my application. I think it’s better than mailing it in, don’t you?”

  “I hope you both get in,” Stone said.

  “We’ve both got the qualifications,” Peter replied. “It’s the interview that’s important, and at least they’ll know who we are when we get there.”

  Stone looked at Arrington. “I don’t think Dino and I could have dealt with this as well as the boys have.”

  Dino pulled up a chair. “I’ll second that,” Dino said.

  Peter went over to talk with Ben and his grandfather.

  “Ben’s not going to law school,” Dino said. “He wants to be a movie producer.”

  “I can imagine where he got that idea,” Arrington said.

  Stone spoke up. “I think it’s a good idea that they go to college together.”

  “I’m for that, too,” Dino said. “I suppose you dealt with Peter’s birth certificate.”

  Stone nodded. “Bill Eggers did it through an L.A. judge with whom we both went to law school.”

  Later, Stone had an opportunity to talk with Eduardo.

  “I’m very impressed with your son,” the older man said.

  “To tell you the truth, so am I,” Stone replied. “He surprises me every day.”

  “Benito has told me of their plans to work together after Yale,” Eduardo said. “I think it’s good that he has a friend with a good head on his shoulders.”

  “I’m glad Peter has such a good friend, too, Eduardo,” Stone replied.

  He was going to have to ask Peter about this plan he had, since he had heard nothing of it.

  23

  Kelli Keane was at her tiny desk in a corner of the Page Six offices at the New York Post when she got a call from the young man with whom she had slept the night before, who happened to work on the outer periphery of the mayor’s staff.

  She listened through her earpiece while simultaneously typing on her computer keyboard. “Go,” she said.

  “Word around the office is that the mayor married somebody yesterday.”

  “I thought he wouldn’t do that.”

  “Only in exceptional cases, and in this case, secret ones. It happened at the home of Eduardo Bianchi.”

  “Who?”

  “Big shot, lives way the hell out in Brooklyn; on a lot of boards, corporate and charitable.”

  “So, who got married?”

  “That’s the mystery. The mayor has had Christmas dinner booked there for weeks, and after the dinner he took all the considerable leftovers to some mission down on the Bowery.”

  “Come on, Bruce,” she said, “who are the happy couple? They must be
somebody special.”

  “You’re right, but it beats me.”

  “Who were the other guests for Christmas dinner?”

  “I don’t have anything hard on that; I’d have to guess.”

  “So, guess.”

  “Well, Bianchi has two daughters, but one of them is supposed to be in a loony bin somewhere, so the one daughter must have been there. She used to be married to Lieutenant Dino Bacchetti, who runs the detective squad at the Nineteenth Precinct, and they have a son, so he must have been there.”

  “How about Dino, was he there?” She had seen him often at Elaine’s.

  “Maybe, who knows? Bianchi has an old battle-ax of a sister, who acts as his hostess when he entertains. That’s all I can think of.”

  “Thanks, Bruce.”

  “See you this week?”

  “Maybe. Give me a call.” She hung up and thought for a minute, then she got up and maneuvered her long legs toward a bulletin board across the room. There was a photograph, taken at the marriage license office downtown, of a couple standing in line for a license. They were noticeable, because they were so much better dressed than anyone else in the room, but the woman stood behind the man, and her face was visible only from the eyebrows up, while the man’s back was halfway to the camera. A Post-it was stuck to the picture and the words “Who are these people?” were scrawled on it. Kelli unpinned the picture and walked back to her desk with it.

  Who, she wondered, was that guy who was always with Dino Bacchetti at Elaine’s? Kelli was new at Page Six, having come up from Philly, so she was new in the city as well. She had been told this guy’s name, but she hadn’t written it down. He was tall and good-looking and always well-dressed, like the man in the photograph. She phoned her friend Gita, who worked in sports.

  “Gita,” the woman said. “Speak.”

  “It’s Kelli. Remember when we were at Elaine’s last week?”

  “Yeah, sure.” The two women had had a few drinks at the bar.

  “Remember the cop Dino Bacchetti was there?”

  “Yeah; he almost always is.”

  “And who’s the good-looking guy he hangs with?”

  “That’s Stone Barrington. All the girls at the bar want to screw him.”