"Fresh as a daisy," I said. A stone on the field cut into my foot. I turned back to the plane and yelled up to Buzz. "Hey, throw me my shoes, will you?"
He laughed and threw them down and the reporters made a great fuss about taking my picture while I was putting them on.
Buzz climbed down beside me. They took some more pictures and we started to walk toward the hangar.
"How does it feel to be home?" another reporter yelled.
"Good."
"Real good," Buzz added.
We meant it.
Five days ago, we took off from Le Bourget in Paris.
Newfoundland, New York, Chicago, Los Angeles – five days.
A reporter came running up, waving a sheet of paper.
"You just broke the Chicago-to-L-A. record!" he said. "That makes five records you broke on this flight!"
"One for each day." I grinned. "That's nothin' to complain about."
"Does that mean you'll get the mail contract?" a reporter asked.
Behind them, at the entrance to the hangar, I could see McAllister waving frantically.
"That's the business end," I said. "I leave that to my partner, Buzz. He'll fill you gentlemen in on it."
I cut away from them quickly, leaving them to surround Buzz while I walked over to McAllister.
His face wore a harassed expression.
"I thought you'd never get here on time."
"I said I'd be in by nine o'clock."
He took my arm.
"I’ve got a car waiting," he said. "We'll go right to the bank from here.
I told them I'd bring you down."
"Wait a minute," I said, shaking my arm free.
"Told who?" "The syndication group that agreed to meet your price for the sublicensing of the high-speed injection mold.
Even Du Pont's coming in with them now." He took my arm again and began to hurry me to the car.
I pulled free again.
"Wait a minute," I said. "I haven't been near a bed for five days and I'm beat.
I'll see them tomorrow."
'Tomorrow?" he yelled. "They're waiting down there now!"
"I don't give a damn," I said. "Let 'em wait."
"But they're giving you ten million dollars!"
"They're giving me nothing," I said. "They had the same chance to buy that patent we did.
They were all in Europe that year but they were too tight.
Now they need it, they can wait until tomorrow."
I got into the car.
"The Beverly Hills Hotel."
McAllister climbed in beside me. He looked distraught.
"Tomorrow?" he said.
"They don't want to wait." The chauffeur started the car.
I looked over at McAllister and grinned. I began to feel a little sorry for him.
I knew it hadn't been an easy deal to swing.
"Tell you what," I said gently.
"Let me get six hours' shut-eye and then we can meet."
"That will be three o'clock in the morning!" Max exclaimed.
I nodded.
"Bring them to my suite in the hotel. I’ll be ready for them then."
Monica Winthrop was waiting in the suite.
She got up from the couch and put out her cigarette as I came in. She ran over and kissed me.
"Oh, what a beard!" she exclaimed in mock surprise.
"What're you doin' here?" I asked. "I was looking for you at the airport."