“Think of it as a coup for irony! Max is a writer. He would appreciate the irony. A bright comic film like this is the perfect follow-up to Banner Headline—which, by the way, is not making anywhere near the box office Leon hoped for, given all the money he threw at it. Vic Hale can’t write decent comedy. Max Leslie is a genius. Besides, I have a new contact at Empire, Elliott Dunne.”

“Aren’t you listening to me? Leon would recognize this instantly as Max’s work. Leon would . . .” She floundered, seeking some adequate description. “Gordon and Leon will read these and know they belong to Max. No, you should take them somewhere else.” When I failed to reply, she pleaded, “You’re not serious, are you?”

“Oh, but I am. I read these last night, and I kept thinking of everyone Leon cast off, cast out without a shred of loyalty. Not just Max! I kept remembering when Kathleen Hilyard called us in Paris, and Julia trying to calm her, and when she finally understood that Kathleen was telling her that Nelson had killed himself, shot himself in their bedroom, then Julia started shrieking. I remembered the letter Julia got from Simon and Leah that they were in Mexico, and how Simon made a big joke of it, the señoritas and muchachos and how there were so many Reds in Mexico City they had their own Rojo Fiestas. I remembered Jerrold, laughing, and telling a French director how it took him a year to learn to toss his hat on his Oscar in that crummy Left Bank apartment. They all made light of what they went through, because they are big-hearted, but we, Julia and I, we knew the truth of it. I thought on all that, Thelma, and I just got angry all over again. I couldn’t sleep. I mean, for twenty years these writers made Leon rich, they made Empire great, and he had his lawyers terminate their contracts in twenty-four hours?”

Thelma was thoughtful. “You might be too hard on Leon. He wasn’t alone in what he did.”

“You, of all people, can say that? He fired you for nothing more than being Max’s secretary.”