Matt had spent all day calling every film studio where he had a contact or two. RKO, Fox, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, Warner Brothers, and Republic—all in a push to find his mother roles. All had movies they hadn’t yet sought talent for, so he asked for scripts. Most were slated to be produced between January and early to midsummer of the next year.
He wasn’t sure that she would be able to go for the January roles, since it was closing in on the end of the year and she was still technically in rehab for another month. But the rest might actually peak her interest. Still, he had some offers to take to her. The rest would be up to her.
He was happy that they all were willing to take a chance on her. She needed a chance to start over. Once she was established, he would be able to rest. He would be able to back off and let her live her own life. And he could live his life.
He looked forward to not being the savior every time something went wrong. He had grown tired of the little battles he’d had to endure as his mother’s protector. In a time that she should have been his, he had been hers. And hated it.
Now, things were beginning to look up. He had offered her what she had always dreamed of. A chance to act in the movies. For the first time in her life, she seemed genuinely excited.
It had been enough to make her want to be clean and sober. What happened after her initial entry into acting was up to her. if she had the stamina, she would make it. If not, she would see a short lived career…unless they decided she was too old. But then, Hollywood loved to drop its females after a certain age. Once they began to show their age, or they began refusing the advances of directors or producers, they were let go.
Maybe she wouldn’t suffer that fate. Maybe she would make a great mistress for a director. Although he didn’t like the idea, perhaps it was her only chance to hold on. After all, she had a history of compromising her principles.
He shook off the thought. Maybe he was just overthinking it all. He could only hope. Only time would tell.
Richard Nixon sat behind the desk in the Oval Office. 1970 had been, in military terms, a cluster fuck. All that had been hoped for had been shattered by mistake after mistake. The only good that had come out of the year had been the capture of the Manson Family. Everything else had been problematic. At the moment, he busied himself looking over bits of legislation.
Did he really want to pass half the bills that came before him? No. but, like all those before him, he compromised. Biting his tongue, he passed bills that were beneficial for the citizenry even though he felt that they didn’t deserve it. Most, in his view, were damned hippies and Commies.
The liberals were vile in his eyes. They needed to be dealt with. Something had to be done to find out where they stood. He suspected them to be Commies, but he needed to know for sure.
But it was too soon to do anything. He had made a few promises to get in office and he had to make good. Among those promises was bringing the boys home from Vietnam. Though he hadn’t really intended to do so, he had made the promise. Now, he was bound by his words to the deed.
But when would be best? And how? Should the withdrawal be quick? Or should it be gradual?
He believed a gradual retreat was best. Keep the fight going as long as possible. Milk it for all it was worth.
At the moment, though, the legislation before him was more important. Give the people what they want and they would love you. That was what he had been told. So, he was giving the people what they wanted. Or what he thought they wanted.
Maybe next year would show him the way to fulfilling his plan. Or maybe the year after. However long it took, he could wait it out. Maybe. Then maybe not.
Tom stood in his backyard feeding papers from the files into a burning barrel. One by one, he watched the papers catch and turn black. He smiled. No one else would see these files. No one needed to.
Ken could rest in peace now. His secrets were dying in the fire. Only one person really knew, and that was Tom. And he was going to take it all to his grave. No need to sully the memory of a hero.
He closed his eyes. No need for Susie to know what had been written about her either. Or the Morrows. Eddy had been delusional for too long. Everyone in Washington was just waiting for the little toad to die. None could wait for that day. But he still lived. He seemed to be endowed with immortality.
Still, Tom knew that Eddy couldn’t live forever. The little imp had showed early signs of illness back in the ‘60’s, but no one breathed a word about it. But now, everyone knew. It was visible.
But how long would it take to consume Eddy? That was the question. But then, that was what everyone was asking. Even though no President wanted to work with Eddy, none had been courageous enough to unseat the bastard. He had reigned over the FBI for over thirty years. All other director for every other agency had been changed, but Eddy had been left in place out of fear. Fear of what he would do. Fear of what he might release.
He had been a master blackmailer. But now, his time was drawing to an end. Tom only hoped that there was a special hell for people like Eddy. If not, then the Devil was in serious trouble. He smiled. Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing.
Natalia sat reading the May issue of Time. She was appalled at the news about Kent State. The government had committed a massive crime and nothing was going to be done about it. How appalling. She frowned.
She wished that she had never gotten involved with drugs. It had kept her out of touch with what had been happening. What else had she missed?