Chapter 1

Ali McGrath was scared as she knocked on the door of Suite 1400 in the Beverly Wilshire Hotel. Her appointment was vital. It was her first tryout in years and she had to get the part. A few moments later the door was opened by a tall man. "Good morning," she said, "I'm Ali McGrath and I have a nine o'clock appointment with Mr. Clifford."

She looked at the man standing before her. He was six feet two with a full head of light brown hair graying at the temples. He was very trim and conservatively dressed in a gray suit with a blue button-down shirt and a striped tie. Ali was puzzled. Her appointment was to audition for a movie rôle and Clifford didn't look like he was in the business. He looked like a New York businessman not a Hollywood film producer. She guessed his age as being early- to mid-forties.

When he held out his hand, she took it in a surprisingly firm grip. "Hi! I'm Bill Clifford. I am delighted to meet you, Miss McGrath. Won't you come in and sit down?"

Ali McGrath was a tall girl — five feet eight — and had a beautiful figure. Now, however, she was very thin — too thin — and it showed. She prayed it didn't show too much. She had golden blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes with very beautiful features. She followed him into the sitting room of his suite. This was her first visit to the Beverly Wilshire which was considered to be a bit staid by the Hollywood types, many of whom hung around the pool at the Beverly Hills Hotel. Preceding him into the room, she took a seat on a side chair. He noticed she had passed up the sofa so he took the other side chair and sat facing her across the coffee table's long axis. Bill noticed the girl was thin. He remembered some of the comments in her file lying on the coffee table between them that he had just reviewed.

"Miss McGrath, I apologize. Things have been very hectic for me today and I never got around to eating breakfast. I would like to order from room service. Could I order something for you?" Bill watched as a range of emotions quickly ran across her face. He noted that he would have completely missed her reaction if he hadn't been watching for it carefully.

Hunger obviously won out. "Thank you, Mr. Clifford. I would be happy to join you," she replied with a warm smile.

Bill went to the phone, dialed room service and ordered two large breakfasts of sirloin steak and eggs with hash browns and toast. With his back towards her he placed the order in a very low voice so she couldn't overhear.

When he rejoined her and sat down, the two exchanged general pleasantries for a while and then Clifford turned to the reason for her visit. "Miss McGrath, thank you very much for coming in to see me. Before I waste time going over what you may already know, perhaps you could tell me what you know about the part. Then I'll fill you in on the rest."

She smiled again. He noted that her appearance was unchanged from when she had starring film roles in the 1970s, except now she did look noticeably thinner. He looked at her carefully but still couldn't decide whether she was wearing no makeup or if her makeup was so well done that it appeared she wasn't wearing any. Bill decided it didn't really matter.

"I really know nothing about the part, except that there is one," she said. Then smiling wryly she added, "Congratulations on finding me. I haven't had an agent in years. Which raises another question: There are some things I won't do. Perhaps I would have eaten more regularly if I had, but that's the decision I made. I just want you to know so I don't waste your time. What exactly is the part?"

Bill started to answer when the doorbell rang. He opened the door for the room-service waiter who came in and quickly opened up his service trolley for use as a table. Then he brought over the two side chairs, set them up in facing positions and then held the chair for her as she gracefully seated herself.

The waiter stood back and said, "Excuse me, ma'am, but aren't you Ali McGrath?"

She looked up at the waiter and smiled warmly. Bill was reminded how much he loved her smile. "Yes, I am, and it's very nice of you to remember me."

The waiter suddenly looked embarrassed and Bill thought he knew the reason. He glanced at Ali and saw she didn't mind the attention. He looked at the name badge the waiter wore and said, "It's quite all right, Charley. You needn't feel embarrassed."

The waiter relaxed and smiled. "I remember you from movies in the 70s. In fact, I saw you in person in Vietnam in 1974 when you came out to entertain. I — my buddies and I — appreciated what you were doing. It sure wasn't a popular place to be in those days, at least not on our side of the line." Suddenly, his face turned grim and his voice went flat. "It cost you your career, didn't it?"

She started to shake her head and saw a skeptical look come across his face. Then she nodded. "I'm afraid it did."

"I'm very sorry, Miss McGrath," the waiter said. "You were our favorite ... but I guess we don't count for much either."

Bill looked at him. "What are you doing now, Charley? The war's been over for quite a while."

The waiter smiled and replied, "I finally got out. Now I'm finishing at law school." Again he looked embarrassed. "Miss McGrath, I ... I'm president of the student association at law school. I'm at USC. Could ... Would you be willing to come and talk to the law students? I know something of your background, and some of us would love to hear you speak. Personally, I think it's a major civil liberties thing that's been swept under the rug. Would you consider it? We would be happy to pay you, of course. I know some of the speakers on the college lecture circuit pull down big bucks. We can't come up with the twenty grand or so an Abie Hoffman gets, but we could go to five thousand for you to make an appearance."

Ali responded with a very warm smile that appeared to light up the room — Bill could see she was really pleased. She looked at him and said, "Charley, I'm here today to talk about a rôle with Mr. Clifford. Please believe me when I say that you have just made me the best offer I've heard in over ten years. If this part falls through, I'll call you tomorrow if you will leave me your phone number. And if it doesn't fall through, I'll still call you," she said. "Furthermore, although I doubt if you know it, I'm studying law, too. I'm finishing at UCLA law school this year. I would be delighted to meet your fellow students."

As she talked with him, she realized Charley was a very handsome man. He stood about six feet three and had dark hair and blue eyes. He was very well built, weighing over 200 pounds. Charley took out a small pad and wrote hurriedly. He ripped off the sheet of paper and gave it to Ali. As he did so, Bill reached into his wallet, took out a bill, folded it up and gave it to him. He went to slip it into his pocket but then stopped. "Excuse me, Mr. Clifford, but I think there's been a mistake. I think you took out the wrong bill."

Now it was Bill's turn to smile. "Charley, I promise I won't tell anyone. If I did, you would be thrown out of the waiters' union. It's bad for your professional image to give back tips." He reached into his pocket and took out another bill that he did not bother to fold this time. Ali could see it was a hundred. "This is for your consideration, Charley. And I know you can use it."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Clifford. I really do appreciate it." Then he turned to Ali and said, "I hope you get the part, Miss McGrath. I think Mr. Clifford is the sort of producer we need more of around here." He excused himself after saying he would be back in a while for the table.

When Ali looked at the breakfast for the first time, Bill saw her eyes widen. He cut into his steak, and as he had expected it was a perfect medium rare. He looked at the girl across the table. "I apologize. I didn't even ask you what you wanted. I just ordered two of what I was having. I'm sorry. Girls don't eat steak and eggs."

Ali had already started on her steak. She put down her knife and fork and studied Clifford's face. She liked what she saw. "Mr. Clifford, thank you for what you did for Charley. You gave him a $200 tip, didn't you?"

Bill just nodded.

"And you know something of my background from the conversation we had, even if you didn't know it before. I don't care what other girls eat. This girl is starving. Literally. I haven't eaten in almost three days. You couldn't know that, but you did see I was hungry. I tried to load up on water, but that didn't work too well. Now would you please excuse me for a moment?"

She went to the bathroom and while she was out of the room Bill again ordered from room service. He asked if Charley could please bring up the additional order. Ali reappeared a few moments later, sat down and finished her breakfast. As she finished the doorbell rang again. It was Charley with another cart. He smiled and left it where it was, winking at Bill. He left the room.

"What's that?" she asked.

"A little more for you to eat," Bill replied. "You're right. I do know you haven't been eating very regularly. I guess I didn't realize it was this bad, though. I really don't know why, or what caused it. It doesn't affect the possible rôle you're here to talk about today, but I am curious."

Ali got up and went to the second cart. She started exploring under the metal covers and found an order of raw oysters. She looked at him with a question in her eyes.

Bill smiled and nodded. "I don't know what you like, so I got some stuff you can graze on. You know ... like a cow?"

"Moo... !" she said with a grin as she brought the oysters back to the table and started eating again. "I've never eaten oysters so early in the day, but I seem to recall hearing they do eat them for breakfast along Chesapeake Bay."

When she finished them she looked up and said, "Hollywood is very open-minded about what you say — as long as you say the right things. That is, the right liberal things. It's fine for Jane Fonda to go to North Vietnam. But if you don't like the way a script reads — for example, typically making the Americans out as the bad guys — you're uncooperative and you don't get any work. I guess I had it up to here with the Army, the CIA and American business men in general being made the heavies. They're Hollywood's new 'men in the black hats.'"

"Miss McGrath, you haven't worked in over ten years have you?" Bill asked quietly. She shook her head. "What have you been doing? It's been kind of hard tracking you down."

"Mostly I've been going to school. I have an MBA, and you just heard about law school at UCLA. I've been staying alive, is the best answer. Now, Mr. Clifford, what is the part you would like me to read for? I'm sure it's obvious that my salary isn't a big deal. I work this week to try to cover this week's rent ... and that's not a big tab."

He looked at her steadily. "The part is playing my wife," he said quietly.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Clifford?" she said, showing her astonishment. "I thought you said the part was playing your wife."

"It is." He smiled and continued. "Let me explain: My wife died awhile ago and I have three grown children. The youngest is in college, while the others are in graduate or professional schools. I decided I'm a little old for the singles scene. I have a great deal of money, so I came up with the idea of casting the rôle as if it were a rôle in a movie. That is basically what I'm doing. The contract is very simple: There won't be any residuals or percentages. It pays one million dollars for twelve months. It's quite simple, really."

He smiled and continued, "But I do have a few questions, though. Miss McGrath, I understand you did many of your own stunts. Is that true?"

Ali was stunned. She didn't believe her ears. All she could say was, "Did you say one ... million... dollars?"

Bill smiled and nodded. "Isn't that enough? But you didn't answer my question. By the way, since you're auditioning for the rôle of my wife, the name is Bill. My wife didn't call me Mr. Clifford since ... since ever! Come to think of it, she never called me Mr. Clifford.

"Bill, the name is Ali, or Allison if you prefer. I think my grandmother was the only person who ever called me that, though. As for your question, yes, I did. I guess I got a charge out of it. Are there any special things you're interested in?"

"Yes, there are. I remember you in a skiing picture. Do you ski?" She nodded. "Play golf?"

Again she nodded. "I used to play pretty well, but I haven't had the opportunity to play for years. But why do you ask?"

"Because I like to ski and play golf. I wondered if you could play the part, or if I needed to hire a stunt double, too," he replied with a grin. "By the way, how old are you? I know what the old studio bio says, but they lie ten years or more in both directions."

"I'm thirty-three," she replied, "How old are you?"

"I'm forty-nine," he answered. "Is that too old?"

"No. I lied. I'm really thirty-five. It's not too old. In fact, you look like you're in your thirties."

"You flatter me," he said. "What else do you need to know?"

"Tell me exactly what is involved in playing your wife. Does that mean I have to sleep with you?"

Bill was very serious as he replied. "Probably. But I mean that literally, not figuratively. I normally get a suite at a hotel, but usually there's only one bedroom. Frankly, Ali, I'm getting a little too old to be sleeping on the couch. Does the idea of sharing a bedroom with me — and possibly a bed — bother you?"

"Bill, I guess it should, but it doesn't. Please don't ask me why, because I honestly don't know. I guess I've played enough nude scenes that it really doesn't bother me. On the other hand, I would have been eating more regularly if I had been willing to do tricks for the troops. As a call girl, the pay is pretty good to start, particularly for a girl who actually had star billing in a Hollywood film.

"What more do you need to know about me?"

"I think I already know a great deal. I have a folder here that's pretty complete. But are you interested in the job? I don't want to waste your time."

She looked at him and he could see her eyes start to tear. He was surprised when she just sat up straighter in her chair. "Please don't say things like that. You're teasing me and you know it. I'm sorry, but I guess I'm just not in shape for it anymore. You are looking at a girl — a woman — who was starving — literally starving — just a few minutes ago. Waste my time indeed!"

She smiled through the tears. "Do you mind if I continue my grazing? I think I saw some smoked salmon — Scottish, isn't it?" He nodded, and she went back to the other cart, retrieving the plate of smoked salmon. She looked up at him. "Yes, I'm interested. Obviously I'm interested. What do I need to do? Do you want me to undress or something?"

Bill looked at her quizzically. "Would you mind taking off your dress? Just your dress."

She looked at him, got up and unbuttoned the plain dress she was wearing. She slipped it off and stood up straight. "I'm afraid there isn't an awful lot of me left," she said wryly. She was wearing only a pair of bikini briefs and a camisole. He could see she wasn't wearing a bra and could see her ribs plainly through her camisole — clearly she was ten pounds or more underweight. "Do I pass?"

Ali's legs were very shapely. She had slim hips and — at least at the moment — very small breasts which he could see outlined beneath the thin top. She saw his eyes focused on her chest. "I'm sorry," she said, "I've never had big boobs, but this is ridiculous, even for me. But you haven't answered my question."

"Why don't you put on your dress," he said. "Do you want the part?"

She looked at him while she stood holding her shirtwaist dress in her left hand. "Yes," she said, "I would like the part. I need the part! What else do you want me to do now?"

"Nothing. Except get back into condition. You really are much too thin." Bill changed the subject suddenly. "Ali, how much money do you need to get clear of all of your debts?"

She looked at him, puzzled. "It would take more money than the mint! Thousands!" Then she smiled wryly. "That's funny," she said softly. "I used to do features for hundreds of thousands and thought I was getting screwed. I guess I really was, too. My co-stars often appeared in the same film for millions. I suppose it's just a matter of perspective. The answer to your question, though, is that it would take between seventy-five and a hundred thousand to be completely clean."

"Where do you bank?" Bill asked. She told him at Bank of America and gave him the branch location. He frowned and said, "Why there? It's not very convenient to where you live."

She smiled and said, "That's true. However, the manager is ex-Special Forces from Vietnam and does everything he can to help me." Bill asked for her account number and bank transit code; she gave it to him.

"What's the name on the account?" he asked.

"Allison McGrath," she replied. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

It was his turn to smile. "Watch and see."

He picked up the phone and dialed a long-distance number. When the phone was answered Bill said, "It's B of A, account number 475-97765, in the name of Allison McGrath. Send a half immediately." He checked the time on his watch, then looked at Ali. "How about some more coffee? You haven't been drinking."