Once Is Not Enough by Jacqueline Susann Read Free Book Online Page A

understand . . . electroencephalograms . . . spinal pictures.
    He flew in two surgeons from London and a top neurologist from Germany. They agreed with the specialists in Rome—the delay in physical therapy lessened the chances of recovery from paralysis, yet nothing could be done until the broken bones healed.
    He spent most of his time at the hospital, going to the studio to make sure that most of Franco’s scenes were cut from the picture. He didn’t buy Franco’s story—that January had insisted he drive faster—and when he put it to January she had refused to deny or confirm it. But he threw Franco off the set and let the director cut and edit the picture. He wanted to get out of Rome . . . and take January with him.
    But three months later she was still in a partial cast and unable to talk. The picture opened in Rome to murderous reviews and tepid business.
    In New York it was yanked out of a first-run house after one week and went straight to Forty-second Street on the bottom half of a double bill. In Europe the press labeled Mike Wayne the only man who ever made Melba Delitto look sexless.
    He tried to be philosophical. Everyone had to have one flop. And this was long overdue. He had been on a winning streak since 1947. He told it to himself. He told it to the press. Yetas he sat beside his daughter’s bed, the thought nagged like an exposed nerve. Was it just one flop—or had his luck run out?
    He had two more pictures to release through Century, and he could amortize the loss of this picture against the profits of the others. And he didn’t see how the next picture could miss. It was a spy story from a best-selling novel. He started principal photography in London, in October. Each weekend he flew back to Rome; forcing himself to walk into that hospital room with a smile to match the one she always had for him. He tried not to be disheartened at her lack of progress. She would make it. She had to! On her eighteenth birthday she surprised him by taking a few laborious steps with the aid of the therapist and crutches. Her right arm had improved, but she still dragged her right leg. Her speech was coming back. There were times she halted or stuttered on a word. But he knew that was just a matter of time. But damn it! If she could talk and use her right arm, what was holding up the progress of the leg? Certainly not the concussion anymore. But her smile was so bright and victorious. Her hair had grown back short and shaggy—she looked like a frail little boy. His throat felt dry. He felt it tighten as he forced a smile. Eighteen years old, and so many months lost.
    After her birthday he had to go to the States to film the chase scenes in New York and San Francisco. Then there was the editing and final scoring in Los Angeles. He had high hopes for the picture; it had the smell of a winner. And somehow he tied up his hopes for the success of the picture with January’s recovery. Like a mind bet. If the picture made it big—her recovery would be rapid.
    It opened with a big charity premiere in New York. The klieg-light bit; the celebrities; Barry Gray interviewing the V.I.P.’s. The audience applauded and laughed in the right places. When the lights came up, the heads of Century walked up the aisle with him . . . back-slapping . . . smiling. Then on to the party at the Americana, where they heard that the first reviews on TV had been bad. But everyone said it didn’t matter. The New York Times was all that counted. At midnight they learned the Times had murdered it (that was when theheads of the studio left the party). The head of Century publicity, an optimistic man named Sid Goff, shrugged it off. “Ah, who reads the Times? For movies, it’s the Daily News that counts.” Twenty minutes later they learned the News had only given it two stars, but Sid Goff was still optimistic. “I hear the guy at the Post loved it. Besides, word of mouth will make the picture.”
    But neither the Post nor word of mouth