Chapter 69

Then she snapped her fingers and asked, "For that matter, did the name, Taylor, come up today?" When he nodded, feeling totally bewildered, she exclaimed, "Oh, shit! This is going to be really funny now."

"Would you kindly tell me what's going on, Kris? It's pretty clear that you know, or at least have a pretty good idea."

"First, Bill, back to your little joke: In your opinion, what's a large fortune?"

He slowly shook his head and then said, "I don't know... $100 million, I guess."

Then she really started howling with laughter while shaking her head. Finally she regained enough control to speak, but her head was still shaking back and forth. "No, Bill, that's just walking-around money. Hell, even I have about $200 million and it sort of covers the rent."

Then she took his hand and apologized for teasing him. "Bill, among them, the Cliffords, Bradleys and Taylors have something well north of $100 billion!

"When I said it was the fault of Mom, Ali, and Andy Taylor, I wasn't kidding. While their husbands go nuts, the three women have a running competition as to who can generate the most money. It's funny, really. The end result? We're all rolling in it..."

Her voice tapered off and she went to a phone. After dialing a number, she listened and then entered still more numbers on the key pad. Finally she shook her head in disgust and hung up. "Oh, shit! She's done it to me again..."

"Who's done what?" he asked. To Bill Warren, the evening was like none he had ever experienced in his life. However, there was apparently one major worry resolved. Susan appeared happier than he could remember, certainly far happier than at any time since her mother's death.

"I just checked my bank balance," Kris replied in answer to his earlier question. "There's over $250 million in the account. It looks like Mom unloaded some more of her excess cash on me." Then she just shook her head and began to giggle. Finally she said, "I guess I'll just have to do what Bobbie does."

"Who's Bobby, and what does he do?" Bill inquired.

"Bobbie is a she, not a he," she replied. "She's my sister, Bobbie Conroy. All she does is look at her bank statement each month. If the balance is greater than $50 million, she just throws it away.

"She accuses me of being anal-retentive or something. She says I have this stupid compulsion to balance my checkbook to the penny. Her attitude is that if the balance is north of $50 million, what difference does it make? She and Tom couldn't possibly spend it all, so why worry?"

Kris shook her head and added, "And you know what? I guess she's right, too."

Again Bill was in a state of shock. This beautiful and incredibly talented woman who earlier had offered to be his cook and housekeeper had more than $250 million of her own, and was part of a strange family that had more than $100 billion. It was beyond belief.

"But anyway," Kris asked, "aside from that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you enjoy the play?"

That gave Bill the first good laugh he had had since Mary died. Then he replied, "I guess we did okay today."

But then he shook his head and continued, "No, we really didn't. My female lead is absolutely impossible. Aside from the fact that she can't act her way out of a paper bag, physically she's all wrong for the part."

"Who would be right?" Kris asked softly. "Me?"

"Are you kidding?" he retorted. Then he shook his head and answered his own question. "No, you weren't kidding."

Then he looked at her and said, "Miss Bradley..." When she just raised an eyebrow, he began again, "Kris, I would love to direct you sometime. In fact, I've got a script ready to go that I really wrote with you in mind, during one of my dreamier moments. But no, this one isn't right for you. This needs a woman who just drips with sex, a ... a—"

"Thanks a helluva lot!" she interrupted. "Aside from the fact that I'm flat as a board, have a figure like a straight stick, and am ugly to boot..."

"No, Kris, it's not that at all. You're the Ali McGrath type—"

He stopped, stunned, as he realized what he had just said. "Wait a minute ... You referred to 'Aunt Ali.' And just last month, there was that incredible deal involving the myriad singing voices who were heard for miles around. And they said, 'We love you, Ali McGrath.' Then on TV..." Looking at her accusingly he concluded, "Your 'Aunt Ali' is Allison McGrath Clifford, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is," Kris replied. "And she's the neatest woman on two feet. Everyone who has ever met Ali utterly adores her." Then she looked at him with a quirky smile and added, "I think, William Warren, that what you just said was the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me in my entire life. You really believe I could play an Ali McGrath part?"

"Of course you could!" he exclaimed, truly excited now. "In fact, the parallels are uncanny. In the same way every guy who fought in Vietnam adores Ali McGrath, every guy in Desert Storm adores Kris Bradley. And for the same reasons. You were there. There was no fuss and never a shred of publicity. But you were there: We didn't have many casualties, but I heard stories...

"I heard about a couple of widows of guys killed over there who got the loveliest letters from Kris Bradley telling the women that their husbands' last thoughts were for them. And then later they received scrolls from cloistered monasteries saying that Masses would be said in perpetuity for the repose of the souls of their deceased husbands.

"I met one of those women. She was Jewish, as a matter of fact. But when she showed me the scroll she just broke down and bawled. She said it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her in her entire life. But yes, Kristin Bradley, you will be perfect in the part."

Then his face fell as he added, "But that's not the movie that's in production right now."

"If you want sex dripping from the screen, how about Kim Carson?" Kris asked. "Is she sexy enough?"

"Kris Bradley, get serious! Kim Carson would be perfect in the rôle. On the other hand, Kim's minimum for picking up the phone is about triple my entire production budget."

When she asked, he told her that the current star was doing it for $500,000.

Kris just nodded, got up and went to the phone. After dialing a number, her first words were, "Anything good on TV tonight?"

Then she held the phone away from her ear when Kim exploded. When the beautiful girl ran down, Kris put the receiver back to her ear and asked if she was busy. When the answer was no, Kris said, "That's neat. You're starring in a new picture. Report to the studio tomorrow at seven for makeup. It's a new William Warren film; he wrote it, is directing it, and co-producing it. Oh, and you're doing it for $500,000." Seeing that the phone had speakerphone capability, Kris punched it up and hung up the receiver.

"A William Warren film!" Kim screamed. "You're kidding, aren't you, Kris? Because you do know I'll kill you when I get there in the morning and they laugh in my face. My God! He's the greatest director in films ... And he wrote it, too? Darling, I love you! But what do I have to do for you? He might need all the pieces and parts, otherwise I would send my right arm over by messenger ... But a William Warren film? I'm in heaven, and I haven't even died."

There was a pause and she said, "Did you say it's only going to cost me half a mil to be in it? Is that all? Are you sure?"

"No, turkey!" Kris exclaimed with a giggle. "They're going to be paying you. Now isn't that neat?"

"It's a joke," Kim said with her voice dead, "and I am going to kill you, Kris Bradley. In fact, that's how I'm going to spend the night. I'm going to throw darts at that damned picture of you on my Mayday screen. That's what I'll do—"

"This is Bill Warren," he interrupted, "and truly, Miss Carson, it's no joke. At least I'm certainly not joking. But were you? I mean ... An Academy Award ... The top box-office draw—"

"In utter junk, Bill Warren, and we both know it," Kim interrupted. "You're the only guy in this whole town who seems to have his head screwed on straight..."

Kim paused as a realization dawned. Then she said, "By the way, where are you two, anyway?"

"I'm at home," Bill replied, now a bit confused.

There was a pause and then Kim said in a very soft tone, "Please excuse me, Mr. Warren. I should extend my condolences to you on the tragic death of your wife. I never met her, but from her pictures, she was a truly beautiful woman." Again there was a pause and Kim continued, "But you also have a beautiful little daughter, too, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," Bill replied. "And even though I was so sunk in my misery I didn't even see it, she was in the process of starving herself to death so she could be with her mother again."

"And then what happened?" Kim asked, although by this point she was already 99 percent sure of what the answer would be.

"Then Kris Bradley happened," he replied. "Tonight I saw a very happy little girl. She's certainly happier than at any time since her mother died, and possibly the happiest she's ever been in her life."

"Did Kris tell you about herself?" Kim asked quietly. When he said she had told him just a bit, Kim continued, "I know she will tell it all, but it might take her awhile." Then she told Warren how Kris had come within 72 hours of starving herself to death — the part of the story he had heard. But when she told of Kris's first meeting with her new mother, Vangie Bradley, tears were flowing down his cheeks.

Kim concluded, "She knows, first hand, what it's like and what your daughter has been going through."

Then her voice brightened and she said, "But, Mr. Warren, is this a serious offer to star in a film for you?" When assured it was, she said, "Then I accept. Quickly! Before you can change your mind. But now I guess I'd better hit the sack if I'm going to be up early tomorrow. And Kris, I really do owe you one! Bigtime!"

After disconnecting the call, Kris returned to the sofa and sat down beside Bill. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"But how? Why? I just don't understand," he exclaimed.

Glancing at her watch, Kris's eyes widened as she realized how late it was already. Rising from the sofa she said, "If you'll come out to the kitchen with me, I'll tell you while I finish the dinner." With a grin she added, "And I think I'll even have another drink. You made the last one perfectly, Bill."

Sitting on a stool at a breakfast bar, Bill was astounded watching Kris prepare the dinner. He was amazed at her economy of motion. Every movement was so practiced and easy for her as she moved around.

While cooking she said, "As you may have gathered, Kim is one of my best friends. So I happen to know she thinks you walk on water. She's been after her agent — who is likely to be her ex-agent by now — to get her into one of your films under any conditions you would have her. She wasn't kidding at all about being willing to pay half a million — or far more, in fact — for the opportunity to be in one of your films. If you just wanted her to scrub the floors on the set, she would have done it happily just for the chance to see you work. Her agent just sort of humored her—"

Then she snapped her fingers and exclaimed, "Of course! Why didn't I think of that before."

"Think of what?" Bill asked. He was coming to the conclusion that Kris Bradley was truly brilliant but her mind worked so quickly, she usually lost him in her thought processes.

"Bill, agents work on ... a percentage! You're famous for your incredible skill in producing award-winning films for no money! Kim's agent knew there was no way you could pay — or would pay — her normal rates, so he just kept her away from you."

Then she giggled and asked, "Do you know why she asks for so much money, by the way?" He just shook his head. "Because she can't stand the parts. They're terrible for her and she knows it. Kim's a brilliant girl, by the way. But if they were going to use her in stupid parts, they were going to pay dearly for the privilege. By the way, what did you think of her Academy-Award rôle?"

"I thought she was an incredibly great actress in an incredibly dumb rôle," he replied. "I guess it's really a tribute to her talent that she could make a garbage part into an award winner."

"Well, you've got her now, so let's eat," she replied.

Bill snapped his fingers and picked up the phone. He called the studio and told the assistant producer to tell the former female lead that she was now the former female lead. Then he started to get out the silver to set the breakfast table, but Kris walked right by him into the dining room.

Seeing the room made him gasp and then tears came to his eyes. "My God!" he whispered, "this is exactly what Mary dreamed of, but didn't live to see. Thank you, Kris. It is truly lovely."

There were lighted candles and two places set; one at the head of the table, and the other on the side nearest the kitchen. Bill held her chair for her and watched as she gracefully sat down. Taking his seat, he looked at the plate in front of him for the first time. "What is this?" he asked.

"It's paté de foie gràs," she replied. "It's my own recipe. I hope you like it."

He savored it. Then she served tournedos Rossini along with a fine Cabernet Sauvignon. The dinner was utterly magnificent and he said so. Then he admitted that he hadn't been eating very much or very well, either. By the time they finished their crèpes Suzette, it was almost eleven and Bill had to get up early to get to the studio. She left the dishes for the morning, checked on Sasha who was still asleep by the now-dying fire, and went to the master bedroom.

Entering, she startled Bill who was just undressing. "What are you doing?" he asked utterly amazed at her presence.

"It's late," she said quietly. "I'm going to bed. Isn't that what you're doing, too?"

"But where?" he asked.

"Right here," she replied. "It's a big bed and I don't snore or anything."

"But you're going to sleep here? With me?" he exclaimed.

"Of course," she replied.

Then she went to him, put her arms around his neck and kissed him. It was like no kiss he had ever had in his whole life. Suddenly he realized that, as much as he had loved Mary, her love for him and his for her was only a tiny fraction of what he felt from Kris's lips. There were bells, electricity, and a level of unleashed passion that was astonishing.

Then moving back a step, Kris unzipped the hostess gown which was all she was wearing and stepped out of it. "Is my body all right, Bill?" she asked softly. "I'm really sort of hard; my body — my tits and my ass — are a lot firmer than most girls'. Is it all right? Please feel."

Bill Warren found himself looking at female perfection. He had seen a fleeting glimpse of her bare body in a film Kris had starred in and for which she, too, had won an Academy Award. But seeing her standing straight with her arms at her sides, he was utterly dazzled. Finally, he reached out and touched a tit. When his fingers moved he realized how firm it really was.

Feeling his fingers on her body, Kris made a mewling sound and moved close to him again. "Squeeze my buns! Please," she whispered. He did, causing her pelvis to move against him in delight. Then quickly she helped strip off the rest of his clothes and led him to bed.

Later that night after a great deal of sexual experimentation — the only rules being he couldn't put his cock in her cunt or her ass — they were in bed sharing a cigarette. To Bill's surprise, Kris, whose head was resting against his shoulder with her eyes half closed, started to giggle. "What did I do that was so funny?" he asked.