CHAPTER EIGHT

EIGHT
Patti was already at the table, with her friend
Lucy. The neck of a champagne bottle poked at an
angle from an ice bucket on a stand. I knew it was
Veuve Clicquot without looking. When anyone at my
table orders champagne, even if they specify another
brand, the waiters all know to bring VC.
Jimmy Gandolfini was at my table one night
when this happened after he ordered Perrier Jouet. He
was telling me about a play he had read, with a great
title – God of Carnage. When he first mentioned it, I
was afraid for a moment it might be a vampire project.

It wasn’t, not that that mattered to anyone but me.
He said I should produce it but I told him I was only
interested in musicals. In retrospect, I should have
made an exception.
Jimmy is a gentle guy in real life. However,
he was taken aback at what he perceived as a mix up
when a brand of champagne different from what he
ordered arrived at the table side. He began to object to
the server. I intervened.
I said that Veuve Clicquot is good luck for me.
That calmed Jimmy. Actors believe in luck. Then Patti
chimed in with, “Gus likes things a certain way, and
it’s difficult to get him to change.”
The truth is that I like the color of the Veuve
Clicquot label. It looks great in the light in Elaine’s. Luck is irrelevant when one is immortal.
Patti and Lucy ordered dinner. The waiter asked, “The usual, Mr. Windham?”
I answered with a smile and an affirmative nod of the head and he left to fetch me a plate of oysters.
“How did it go at the theater?” asked Patti.
“Oh, Danny was his usual impossible self.”
“I still can’t understand why you hired him. His track record Off Broadway is spotty at best. It’s not like he can claim professional status. He teaches to support himself. There are half a dozen directors I can think of who would have done a better job. You give him a break and then he treats you like crap.”
“Aren’t you the knowledgeable and catty theater insider tonight.”
“You know I’m right.”
“That’s just the way Danny is. If my instincts are correct, and I still do believe that they are, Danny’s going to give the audience a brilliant show. He wants it too badly to do any less. In his own way, he needs this to be a hit as much if not more than I do.”
“And if you’re instincts are wrong? What then?”
“It’s only money, Patti. Same as it ever was.”
“It’s ten million dollars, Gus.”
“It would be twelve million if we did the show in any other theater. In any case, my instincts are impeccable and right.”
“It’s a big bet on a little twerp, and east of Broadway.”
“Have faith, young lady. Have faith and ye shall be enlightened.”
I grinned and changed the subject, as Lucy’s eyes had grown wide and her mouth was on the verge of sagging open. Talk of millions can do that to some folks.
“So how was the opera? What was it you saw again?”
“Puccini. La Boheme,” said Patti.
“Oh yes. It was so beautiful,” said Lucy. “Thank you so much for the ticket.”
“Patti took you, not me. Thank her, please.”
“But she said the tickets were yours.”
“Did she also say that I subscribe, and that I never see anything when I have a show in rehearsal? I am grateful to you for not letting a ticket go to waste.”
“Well, thank you anyway. I really enjoyed myself.”
“That’s good. And now, ladies, your salads have arrived.”
Leafy vegetable matter was placed in front of the two women. Lucy was smiling about everything by this point. Even though I had fed recently, she looked like a tasty morsel, with a strong pulse. I caught a flash of jealousy in Patti’s eyes as she observed me observing her friend. A server topped off everyone’s champagne glasses.
“Don’t forget that you have a meeting at Coyle and Marcant tomorrow afternoon at three,” Patti said between forkfuls of greenery.
Sometimes I think the woman enjoys tormenting me. She knows I despise meetings during daylight hours. She does not really know why, though.
“Hmmn. Okay,” was the only response I could muster.
Inconvenient and unpleasant, but not disastrous, the meeting with the advertising agency was unavoidable. It should be avoidable but there are these absurd factors called “face time” and “business hours”.
David Belasco would have demanded, and gotten, a night time meeting. Nonetheless, the first Pretty Lady preview is less than a week away and I have duties to my production that must be fulfilled.
“Would you like me to go with you?” Patti asked.
“You are still on my payroll, aren’t you?”
“No need to get snippy, Gus.”
Patti turned and said to Lucy, “Gus hates the daytime. He’d have all his meetings after dark if he could get away with it.”
“It worked well enough for Belasco.”
“I totally understand. I’m a night person myself. If it wasn’t for my job, I’d live like a vampire,” Lucy said to me as much as to Patti.
I did not cringe. Vampires are so very au courant throughout the culture nowadays. There are songs, movies, and multiple television series. Vampire references are ubiquitous.
“What is it that you do for a living, Lucy?”
“I work in development at the Guggenheim Museum. It’s kind of like what you do, Gus. I raise money for shows -- only nobody gives visual art a standing ovation.”
I could not help wondering if Lucy had prepared this bon mot in her mind just for me, or if it was a standard line in her conversation. Given the reality that one’s occupation is always a conversational staple in New York, I suspect she had used it before, in one form or another.
“You must meet some very interesting people,” I said.
“I meet a lot of rich people. Some of them are interesting. Most of them are just rich, though, and tight with a dollar.”
“That’s the way it is everywhere these days.”
“The curators get to work with artists. That’s where it gets interesting.”
“In the theater, interesting is a polite way of saying difficult when speaking in terms of artistic temperament. The work should be strong. That’s what counts.”
“That’s probably true in the art world, too,” said Lucy.
She glanced at Patti, who jumped into the conversation.
“Gus, I mentioned to Lucy that you enjoy supporting all kinds of art. You used to donate to the Guggenheim.”
“We’d love to get you back as a donor, Gus.”
“I’m sure you would but that’s not going to happen.”
Both women tightened their lips and sat up a little straighter at my blunt response. I continued before Patti could start to smolder; even though it should have been me getting hot under the collar for her springing this on me unawares. She still has a lot to learn.
“Please don’t take this personally. Last year the Guggenheim exhibited the work of a young woman whose compositions consisted of crushed beer cans, cigarette butts, and condoms, apparently used, and all arranged into smiley faces. It is the artistic equivalent of reality TV. That may make me sound like a curmudgeon but it really is how I feel. And since I’m really far too young to be a curmudgeon, perhaps I was born old fashioned. In any case, it would be impossible to extend any further support to the Guggenheim as a result. I take the notions of art and beauty very seriously, I’m afraid.”
Lucy gave a pro’s response.
“I know what you mean. I wasn’t fond of that show either. I hope that someday the Guggenheim will regain your trust and favor. In the meantime, what you’ve just told me is very valuable. I’ll be bringing up this conversation in our next joint staff meeting.”
The waiter arrived with their entrees and my standard fare – a dozen unopened oysters and a knife. Oysters are one of the rare human dishes that agree with me, as long as I can open them myself and consume them alive.
I was halfway through my little massacre when I looked up to see Joe Eason standing there.
“Joe!”
I started to push my chair away from the table.
“Don’t get up, Gus. I just wanted to say thanks for the drink.”
“Oh, my pleasure. Anytime.”
Patti swallowed and patted her lips with the cloth napkin.
“Hello.” she said.
Joe smiled and replied, “Hi.”
“Patti Weer, this is Joe Eason, the famous private detective.”
“We’ve met,” said Patti. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t reach to shake your hand, Joe.”
“Of course,” said the detective. “Please don’t make me sound like I’m more than I am, Gus.”
“This is my friend, Lucy Sonders,” said Patti.
“Lucy, very nice to meet you.”
Lucy, being right next to where Joe stood, placed her fork on her plate and extended her hand and the two of them shook. Joe then rested a hand on my shoulder briefly.
“Gus, I wish you a great big hit – even if I don’t have a piece of the show.”
“Sit down, Joe. Have some champagne. I’m sure the ladies would love to hear some of your stories.”
“I wish I could. But I’ve got a very early morning job to do, and I’ve already stayed past my bedtime. I’ll take a rain check though.”
“You got it.”
Joe squeezed my shoulder gently.
“Lucy, nice to meet you. Patti, a pleasure. “
“Good to see you, Joe,” Patti said.
The detective gave the ladies a wink and was gone.