We shook hands.
"You know my attorney, Mr. McAllister?" I said. S. J. gave him the glad eye.
"It's a real pleasure, sir," he said, pumping Mac's hand enthusiastically.
He turned back to me. "I was surprised to get your message.
What's on your mind, boy?"
I looked at him. "I hear you're thinking about putting out a movie magazine."
"I have been thinking about it," he admitted.
"I also hear that you're a little short of cash to get it started."
He spread his hands expressively. "You know the publishing business, boy," he said. "We're always short of cash."
I smiled.
To hear him, one would think he didn't have a pot to piss in.
But S. J. had plenty, no matter how much he cried.
The way he raided his own company made old Bernie Norman look like a Boy Scout.
"I'm about to make my first movie in eight years."
"Congratulations, Jonas," he boomed. "That's the best news I've heard in years.
The movies can use a man like you.
Remind me to tell my broker to pick up some Norman stock."
"I will, S. J."
"And you can be sure my magazines will give you a big play," he continued.
"We know what makes good copy."
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, S. J.
I think it's a shame your chain has no movie magazine in it."
He fixed me with a shrewd glance.
"I feel the same way, Jonas."
"How much would it take to get one on the stands?" I asked.
"Oh, two, maybe three hundred thousand.
You've got to make sure of a year's run. It takes that long for a magazine to catch on."
"A magazine like that depends on the kind of editor you have, doesn't it?
The right kind of editor and you got it made."
"That's entirely correct, boy," he said heartily. "And I have the finest group of editors in the business.
I see you know the publishing business, Jonas.
I'm always interested in a fresh point of view.
That's what makes the news." "Who's going to be your feature editor?"
"Why, Jonas," he said in wide-eyed innocence. "I thought you knew.
The little lady you had dinner with last night, of course."
I started to laugh.
I couldn't help it.
The old bastard was smarter than I figured.
He even had spies planted in "21."
After he left, I turned to McAllister.
"I don't really have to stay here to sign those Engel papers, do I?"
He looked at me sharply.
"I don't suppose so.
Why?"
"I want to go to the Coast," I said. "Here I'm about to make a picture.
What am I doing in New York, getting nothing done?"
"David and Bonner are here.
They've been waiting for a call from you."
"Get David on the phone for me." A moment later, he handed me the telephone. "Hello, David.
How's Rosa?"