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“How was the show?” Stone asked.
“Spectacular!” Peter replied. “They even had three-D! And the Rockettes, wow!”
“There’s an old Jack Douglas story,” Stone said, “-he was a comedy writer for The Tonight Show -about a young couple who went to Radio City Music Hall on their honeymoon, and during the stage show, the young man got up to go to the men’s room, took a wrong turn, and was kicked to death by the Rockettes.”
Peter collapsed in laughter; it took Arrington a moment to get it, then she laughed, too.
“I’m going to tell all my friends that happened when we were there,” Peter said.
“Always attribute,” Stone replied. “It’s good manners.”
“Will you take us to Elaine’s tonight?” Arrington asked. “Peter is dying to go.”
“Of course.” Stone picked up the phone and made the reservation.
“We have some news,” Arrington said, glancing at Peter, who smiled broadly.
“What is it?” Stone asked, puzzled.
“You are looking at the most recent high school graduate of Peter’s school,” she said, pointing at her son.
“I don’t understand.”
“I had a call this afternoon from his headmaster. Peter neglected to tell me that he had a major oral examination just before the holidays.”
“It was more like a conversation with half a dozen faculty members,” Peter said, looking sheepish.
“I think that’s how they meant it to seem,” Arrington said. “Apparently, there was some concern among the faculty about Peter’s advanced state in all his courses, so they decided to test in depth his knowledge and comprehension of the high school curriculum. Long story short, he knocked the oral out of the park, and as a result they agreed, after he left, that the school had nothing further to offer him of any value. So, they have issued him a high school diploma, with honors, and recommended that he either be privately tutored or attend a good university with a program for exceptional students.”
“Congratulations, Peter,” Stone said, clapping him on the back.
“Well, it would have been boring to spend the rest of the academic year there, except for my film, of course, but I can work on that anywhere. All the footage is shot; I just have to edit and score it.”
“And,” Arrington said, “it looks as though Peter himself has already scoped out his next few years of education.”
“That, I have,” Peter said.
“Well, I have news, too,” Stone said. “Woodman amp; Weld are arranging for a petition for Peter’s name change to be lodged with a Virginia court, and also-this surprised me greatly-a Los Angeles judge is directing that Peter’s original birth certificate be reissued with his new name… and age.”
Peter was jumping up and down, now. “Yes, yes, yes,” he kept shouting.
“If you approve,” Stone said, “you will be named after your grandfather: Malon Peter Barrington the Second.”
“I love it!” Peter shouted.
They finally managed to calm him down. “Now, Peter,” Stone said, “does the name Leti
tia Covington mean anything to you?”
“Sure,” Peter said, “she’s the great old actress. Mom and I saw her in a big production at the Kennedy Center in Washington last year.”
“Well, Ms. Covington is a founder of the performing arts program at Knickerbocker Hall, and you have an interview with her on Monday afternoon at three.”
Peter’s jaw dropped. “How did you do this?”
“The lady is the mother of one of Woodman amp; Weld’s clients, and a phone call was made on your behalf. She wants you to bring with you what you have of your screenplay and film.”
Peter fell back onto the sofa, clutching his chest. “I’m having a heart attack!”
