CHAPTER FIFTY THREE

FIFTY THREE
I changed into ninja garb and flew out to
Morristown, New Jersey and fed on a Wall Street
banker to celebrate the haunting. The banker was just
another fat cat heart attack victim who died in his
sleep, by all appearances.
The story of the reappearance of David
Belasco’s ghost made Page Six today.
That was very
speedy placement. Patti brought me copies this
evening and I derived an inordinate amount of
pleasure from reading the item half a dozen times.
Ben is carrying out his tasks as publicist with
admirable efficiency. His grieving at the unfortunate
and untimely death of his parents did not affect his
job performance, once he got back from the funeral. I
am glad for that.
“”You know,” said Patti. “This is our first
Broadway hit. How does it feel?”
This statement took me aback for some reason.
To me, of course, Pretty Lady is one of a series of
productions. It is actually the second time this same
show is achieving the status of a bona fide hit with me
as producer. I took a moment before answering.
“It feels good. It feels very good.”
“I’m sure your father and grandfather would be
very proud.”
For an instant, I thought there was a hint of sarcasm in her voice but it most likely was hypersensitivity on my part.
“Yes. They would, I’m sure.”
“Even your great grandfather would be proud I’ll bet. The three of them together are probably someplace looking down at you and applauding.”
I was not sure if she was being serious.
“I never thought of it that way, but if you say so.”
We were seated in my living room and she got up from her chair and crossed to me and leaned down and kissed me on the lips.
“I do say so.”
How I wanted her at that moment. She lingered bent over me and I could hear her heart throbbing. Her neck was so close. I knew her blood would be beautiful, as beautiful as she appeared to me in the low light of my living room. Again, I thought of making her mine forever. Despite everything I know about that process, it still seemed an attractive proposition in the moment. Resisting the urge was becoming almost impossible.