"Nevada told them to give her the full treatment."
"Nevada?"
He nodded.
I looked at Dan.
"I want everybody concerned in my office in ten minutes," I said.
"Right, Jonas."
I turned and walked out of the building.
9.
I LOOKED AROUND THE OFFICE.
I GUESS THE STUDIO knew what they were doing after all. It was just large enough to hold all of us.
Dan sat in an easy chair to the left of my desk, Carrol, the new director, beside him.
Rina and Nevada were on the couch, and across the room from them was the cameraman.
On the other side of the room were the make-up man and the head of the wardrobe department, a slim woman of indeterminate age, with a young face and prematurely-gray hair, wearing a simple tailored dress.
Finally, my secretary was on my right, with the inevitable pencil poised over her pad.
I lit a cigarette.
"All of you saw that test last night," I said. "It was great.
How come that girl wasn't on the set this afternoon?" Nobody answered. "Rina, stand up."
Silently she got to her feet and stood there looking at me.
I glanced around the room again. "What's her name?"
The director coughed and laughed nervously.
"Mr. Cord, everybody knows her name."
"Yeah?
What is it?"
"Rina Marlowe."
"Then why don't she look like Rina Marlowe instead of an ass-end combination of Clara Bow, Marion Davies and Cynthia Randall?
She sure as hell doesn't look like Rina Marlowe!"
"I’m afraid you don't understand, Mr. Cord."
I looked around.
"What's your name?"
She stared right back at me. "I’m Ilene Gaillard," she said. "I’m the costume designer."
"All right, Miss Gaillard. Suppose you tell me what I don't understand."
"Miss Marlowe has to be dressed in the very forefront of fashion," she said calmly. "You see, Mr. Cord, though we make certain concessions to the period in which the picture takes place, the fundamental design must carry forward the latest in high fashion.
That's what most women go to the movies to see. Motion pictures set the style."
I squinted at her.
"Style or no style, Miss Gaillard, it doesn't make sense that a girl should have to look like a boy to be in fashion.
No man in his right mind could be interested in a figure like that."
"Don't blame Miss Gaillard, Jonas. I told her to do it."
I turned to Nevada. "You told her?"
He nodded.
Sooner or later, it was bound to happen.
I let my voice grow cold.
"It's my money that's on the line now and the deal was that I'm the boss.
So from now on, you worry about your acting. Everything else is my headache."
Nevada's lips tightened and deep in his eyes I could see the hurt.
I turned away so that I wouldn't have to see it.
Rina was watching with a curious kind of detachment.
"Rina!" She turned to me, an impassive mask dropping quickly over her eyes. "Go into the bathroom and wash all that muck off your face. Put on your usual make-up."
Rina left the room silently and I went back behind my desk and sat down.
Nobody said a word until she came back into the room, her mouth wide again, her lips full and her eyebrows flowing into the natural curve of her brow. Her hair spilled like white shimmering gold down to her shoulders.
But there was still something wrong.