“Did he force himself on you?”
“No. I got out of there.”
“Were there any witnesses?”
“No.”
“Then I’m afraid it would be your word against his,” Stone said.
“Well,” Carrie said, “I did get him on tape.”
2
STONE NEARLY CHOKED on his wine. “That was prescient of you,” he rasped.
“Well, I had heard a little about him,” Carrie replied. “A girl has to protect herself.”
“Certainly,” Stone replied.
“Too fucking right,” Elaine added.
“And by what means did you record him?” Stone asked.
“Small dictator in my open purse on his desk,” Carrie replied. “So, shall I retain you as my attorney and sue the son of a bitch?”
“First things first,” Stone said. “What may I get you to drink, and will you have some dinner?”
“Thank you, a Knob Creek on the rocks, please, and no, I’m not hungry, having already dined-partially, anyway.”
Stone ordered the drink. “And what do you mean by having dined ‘partially’?”
“Well, a friend, a stage manager, invited me to a very nice dinner party being given by a well-known actress. We arrived a little late, and to my surprise, I found myself seated next to Mr. Del Wood, who couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Having fought that off in the afternoon-something the other diners seemed to be aware of-I tried to make conversation, but then Mr. Woodie interrupted me and announced for all to hear that the offer he had made me that afternoon was still open. He was beginning to explain to everyone what the offer was when I tipped his dinner plate into his lap-we were having spaghetti Bolognese-then I got up, offered my thanks to my hostess, and left.”
“Wow,” Dino said. “I wish I’d been there for that.”
“So do I,” Stone said. “Perhaps you’d like d
essert, Carrie?”
“Thank you. Perhaps I would.”
Elaine grabbed a passing waiter and ordered up the dessert tray. Normally, she would have moved to another table by then, but she seemed to be enjoying the conversation.
The waiter appeared, and Carrie chose a crème brûlée.
“How many people were at the dinner party, and were they all theater people?”
“Twelve, and yes, they were actors, composers, producers, the works. I was rather looking forward to doing myself some good there, but Old Woodie spoiled that.”
“Well,” Stone said, “by lunchtime tomorrow you will be famous among a certain level of the Broadway cognoscenti; people will be dining out on that story for weeks, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it made the gossip columns.”
“Would that be a good thing?” Carrie asked.
“Good for everybody but Mr. Woodie,” Stone replied. “You’ll be immediately famous, as long as they spell your name right.”
“Oh, good.”
“What part did he offer you?”