Chapter 11 Breakfast at Tiffany's-11

Even the famous one, the one can only speak German, boy, did he throw in the towel. You cant talk her out of these" -- he made a fist, as though to crush anintangible -- "ideas. Try it sometime. Get her to tell you some of the stuff she believes. Mind you," he said, "I like the kid. Everybody does, but theres lots that dont. I do. I sincerely like the kid. Im sensitive, thats why. Youve got to besensitive to appreciate her: a streak of the poet. But Ill tell you the truth. You can beat your brains out for her, and shell hand you horseshit on a platter. To give an example -- who is she like you see her today? a girl youll read whereshe ends up at the bottom of a bottle of Seconals. Ive seen it happen more times than youve got toes: and those kids, they werent even nuts. Shes nuts."

"But young. And with a great deal of youth ahead of her." "If you mean future, you're wrong again. Now a couple of years back, out on the Coast, there was a time it could have been different. She had something working for her, she had them interested, she could have really rolled. But when you walk out on athing like that, you dont walk back. Ask Luise Rainer. And Rainer was a star. Sure, Holly was no star; she never got out of the still department. But that was before The Story of Dr. Wassell. really rolled. I know, see, cause Im the guy was giving her the push." ​​He pointed his cigar at himself. "OJ Berman."

He expected recognition, and I didnt mind obliging him, it was all right by me, except Id never heard of OJ Berman. It developed that he was a Hollywood actorsagent. "Im the first one saw her. Out at Santa Anita. Shes hanging around the trackevery day. Im interested: professionally. I find out shes some jocks regular, shesliving with the shrimp. I get the jock told Drop It if he dont want conversation with the vice boys: see, the kids fifteen. But stylish: shes okay, she comes across. Even when shes wearing glasses this thick; even when she opens her mouth and you dont know if shes a hillbilly or an Okie or what. My guess, nobodyllever know where she came from. Shes such a goddamn liar, maybe she dont knowherself any more. But it took us a year to smooth out that accent. How we did itfinally, we gave her French lessons: after she could imitate French, it wasn't so longshe could imitate English. We modeled her along the Margaret Sullavan type, but she could pitch some curves of her own, people were interested, big ones, and to top itall, Benny Polan, a respected guy, Benny wants to marry her. An agent could ask formore? Then wham! The Storyof Dr. Wassell. You see that picture? Cecil B. DeMille.

Gary Cooper. Jesus. I kill myself, its all set: theyre going to test her for the part of Dr. Wassells nurse. One of his nurses, anyway. Then wham! The phone rings." Hepicked a telephone out of the air and held it to his ear. "She says, this is Holly, I sayhoney, you sound far away, she says Im in New York, I say what the hell are youdoing in New York when its Sunday and you got the test tomorrow? She says Im in New York cause Ive never been to New York. I say get your ass on a plane and getback here, she says I dont want it. I say whats your angle, doll? She says you gotto want it to be good and I dont want it, I say well, what the hell do you want, and she says when I find out you'll be the first to know. See what I mean: horseshit on aplatter."

The red cat jumped off its crate and rubbed against his leg. He lifted the cat on the toe of his shoe and gave him a toss, which was hateful of him except he seemed not aware of the cat but merely his own irritableness. "This is what she wants?" he said, flinging out his arms. "A lot of characters theyarent expected? Living off tips. Running around with bums. So maybe she could marry Rusty Trawler? You should pin a medal on her for that? " He waited, glaring. "Sorry, I don't know him." "You dont know Rusty Trawler, you cant know much about the kid. Bad deal," he said, his tongue clucking in his huge head. "I was hoping you maybe had influence.

Could level with the kid before its too late." "But according to you, it already is." He blew a smoke ring, let it fade before he smiled; the smile altered his face, made something gentle happen. "I could get it rolling again. Like I told you," he said, and now it sounded true, "I sincerely like the kid." "What scandals are you spreading, OJ?" Holly splashed into the room, a towelmore or less wrapped round her and her wet feet dripping footmarks on the floor. "Just the usual. That youre nuts. "Fred knows that already." "But you don't."

"Light me a cigarette, darling," she said, snatching off a bathing cap and shakingher hair. "I dont mean you, OJ Youre such a slob. You always nigger-lip." She scooped up the cat and swung him onto her shoulder. He perched there with the balance of a bird, his paws tangled in her hair as if it were knitting yarn; and yet, despite these amiable antics, it was a grim cat with a pirates cutthroat face; one eye was gluey-blind, the other sparkled with dark deeds. "OJ is a slob," she told me, taking the cigarette Id lighted. "But he does know aterrific lot of phone numbers. Whats David O. Selznicks number, OJ?"

"Lay off." "Its not a joke, darling. I want you to call him up and tell him what a genius Fredis. Hes written barrels of the most marvelous stories. Well, dont blush, Fred: you didnt say you were a genius, I did. Come on, OJ What are you going to do to make Fred rich?" "Suppose you let me settle that with Fred." "Remember," she said, leaving us, "Im his agent. Another thing: if I holler, comezipper me up. And if anybody knocks, let them in."