“St. Marks.”
“Ah, yes; you defended that young woman accused of murdering her husband.” He became conspiratorial. “Tell me, did she do it? Or would answering breach a confidence? I wouldn’t want to do that.”
“I can tell you with the greatest possible confidence that she didn’t do it,” Stone replied. “And no, answering doesn’t breach a confidence.”
“Keeping a confidence is a most important thing in life,” Regenstein said gravely. “Especially in our business. The entertainment business.”
“In any business, I should think.”
“But especially in ours. There are so many gossips and liars, you see, that keeping a confidence and telling the truth are magnified in their importance. Although I have a very large contracts department whose task it is to set down every nuance of an agreement, I have always prided myself on keeping a deal sealed with a handshake.”
“I suppose if everyone kept agreements sealed with handshakes, I and my colleagues would starve,” Stone said.
“Yes, lawyers are necessary in our world. Tell me, are you proud to be a lawyer?”
Stone thought about that for a moment. “I was proud when I graduated from law school and proud when I passed the bar examination, because those milestones marked the acquisition of a lot of knowledge, but I can’t say I’m proud of my profession as a whole; still, there are enough attorneys of sufficient integrity to keep me from being ashamed to describe myself as a lawyer.”
“A lawyerly reply,” Regenstein said, looking amused.
“I’ll be more direct,” Stone said. “I’m proud to be a good lawyer, the best I know how to be.”
“I prefer the direct answer,” Regenstein said. “I always have, and I so rarely hear it in our business.”
Then the penny dropped. Louis Regenstein was the chairman of the board of Centurion Studios. Stone had seen articles about him in the entertainment news and the business pages but had never paid much attention to them. “Are you proud to be in the movie business, Mr. Regenstein?” he asked.
Regenstein smiled broadly. “You bet I am!” he said. “Like you, I’m proud of the way I do it!” He shook his head. “Of course, there are at least as many scoundrels in our business as in the legal profession, and there are no boards of ethics or bar associations to even attempt to judge and regulate their conduct.”
“What do you love most about your position in the industry?”
Regenstein smiled again. “The power to say yes,” he replied emphatically. “There are hundreds of people in our business who have the power to say no, but only a few who can say yes.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Of course, like all power, it must be wielded with the greatest possible discretion. Used indiscriminately, such power can destroy the wielder, and more quickly than you might imagine.” Regenstein narrowed his eyes. “Tell me, Mr. Barrington, have you ever done any acting?”
“Only in front of a jury,” Stone said. “No, I’m wrong. I played a lead once—in my high school drama club’s production of Stalag 17.”
“Were you any good?” Regenstein asked.
“I…well, the cast got a standing ovation, three nights running.”
“I’ll bet you were very good,” Regenstein said. “I’m a very good judge of actors, and I think you’re a natural. You’re good looking, you have a resonant voice, and you project a very positive presence.”
Stone was nonplussed. “Why, thank you, Mr. Regenstein; coming from you, that’s high praise.”
“Please call me Lou,” he said.
“Thank you, and I’m Stone.”
“Stone, if you should ever wish to leave the legal profession, let me know, and I’ll put you into a movie. Not a lead, of course, but a good supporting part. It would give me pleasure to see you do it well, and I know you would. Leads might not ever come—you’re what, in your early forties?”
“That’s right.”
“That’s a bit long in the tooth for becoming a star, but you would be in great demand for featured roles.”
Stone laughed. “I doubt it.”
“Oh, I’m not just flattering you; you’d be very good. You have only one fault that would work against you.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re not insecure enough. Oh, we all have our little chinks in our armor, but actors, the best ones, thrive on insecurity, and you don’t have it at a high enough level to make you malleable. Our business would find you difficult.”