Chapter 20
Don checked his watch again, pacing back and forth on the pier as another crowd of people pushed past him and clambered down the gangway to the water taxi. It was still ten minutes to nine, but to Lena, being on time was late. He whistled a tune he couldn’t quite place and fidgeted with the penny in his pocket, trying to dispel some of his nervous energy.
This was a bad idea, wasn’t it? He’d heard from Eleanor about the gambling ships that operated three miles off the coast of California, thereby technically in international waters. Frankie’s pal Anthony Cornero ran them, conceiving this loophole to skirt California gambling laws and the ire of the various mobsters and their rackets on land. What was Don thinking, inviting Lena here?
He was desperate to be with her, to woo her, to romance her. He was thinking of that crumpled-up note in his hotel room and his vow to stop letting Frankie dictate his every move. He was thinking of choosing Lena over fear. Of undoing the ten years of shame and neglect he’d been backed into and proving to her he was still the boy she’d known.
Don had thought of asking Lena out every night last week, the words Remember Mabel burning a hole in his memory. But he’d been booked solid at the Clover Club with Eleanor. Frankie had apparently decided Don’s weekly studio salary was not sufficient—never mind the fact he wasn’t seeing all of it—and had extended Don and Eleanor’s week-long engagement at the nightclub into a month’s residency. Tonight was his first night off in a week because the club was closed for a private event. Don might have vowed to stop letting Frankie rule his existence, but he wasn’t stupid enough to not show up for a gig. Not until he’d bought out his contract. Eleanor wanted to have dinner together tonight, but he’d fobbed her off on Eddie, promising him the car for the rest of the week in exchange.
It was Eleanor who’d given Don the idea of the pier in the first place, mentioning the gambling ships offhandedly as another spot Frankie had considered booking them. It had seemed the ideal place to take someone who didn’t want to be noticed. He’d ruled it out at first because of Frankie’s ties to it, but when Lena had suggested they go back to her bungalow, it rankled. He’d been an idle plaything for plenty of socialites in Manhattan. He would not be that for Lena. But her concerns about her position at the studio were valid. This had been the only compromise he could think of. With each passing moment, he wondered if it was the stupidest thing he’d done in a long line of very stupid things. He wanted to keep her away from Frankie and his cronies—and here he was inviting her into their lair. He should take Lena by the arm as soon as she arrived, pull her back up the pier, and send her home in a taxi.
No. That was what Frankie wanted. That was the purpose of that note slipped under his door. To keep him running scared. But Frankie was in New York. Don had talked to him on the phone again on Monday, making his check-in. Frankie had been at his office in Midtown, his “theatrical management” digs. Hell, Frankie hadn’t even mentioned the note, a level of subtlety Don was not used to when it came to Frankie Martino. Frankie was the kind of guy who would have a cook beaten to a pulp because he’d spilled spaghetti sauce on his own shirt. Not the kind of guy who sent a message and never mentioned it. But maybe that was a good sign. Maybe Frankie thought the warning had been effective and decided to leave it at that.
Don wriggled his fingers in his pockets and reassured himself that this date was okay. He and Lena could go unnoticed on the ship. People boarded the SS Rex to hide in plain sight. Because while Cornero’s business was theoretically legal, it wasn’t entirely aboveboard. Cornero paid the press handsomely to stay away so that everyone from movie stars to crime bosses to police captains could gamble with discretion. Besides, Cornero might’ve been friendly with Frankie, but he answered to Los Angeles crime boss Jack Dragna. Everyone in the City of Angels did. Don had heard Frankie curse Dragna enough times to know that there was no love lost between them.
Don hadn’t been lying when he’d said he wanted to take Lena out on a date. Not only because he was done letting Frankie have the upper hand. There was also another, far less noble reason. Her reluctance to be seen with him was a difficult pill to swallow. The memories of his father’s sneers and jabs at his love of dance were fresh in his mind. Rationally, he knew Lena’s reasons for not wanting to be seen with him were far more pragmatic, but that thread of self-doubt still niggled at him, telling him he wasn’t good enough for her. That she was embarrassed to be linked to him. All in the pitch of his father’s voice that at some point had become the sound of Don’s inner monologue.
“Penny for your thoughts,” trilled a far more pleasant voice. Lena’s query shook him from his anxious internal debate, as he looked up to take her in. The sight of her stole his breath away. She was in a simple evening gown, a metallic emerald green that shimmered in the streetlamps. It was sleeveless with a fitted bodice that accentuated the slim lines of her lithe frame. Her usually no-nonsense hair had been swept up into an artfully curled style, and a small pink flower was tucked just above her left temple. She looked, in a word, radiant.
She gave him a nervous smile. “Is this all right? I rarely go out, and I usually prefer more practical ensembles.”
He grabbed her hand. “It’s absolutely perfect.” The nerves disappeared from her face and she smiled so wide, he could see the slight chip in her tooth. A chip she’d gotten trying to cook him her mother’s famous scones when he’d been sick one afternoon. They’d come out as hard as a pile of rocks. He loved that she’d never bothered to cap it or hide it.
He raised his arm with his hand still holding hers, and twirled her around so he could take in the entire dress. A delicate row of buttons lined the back, stopping right in the middle of her pert backside. He suppressed a groan and the sudden urge to undo the buttons one by one, kissing the warm skin underneath as he went along. God, maybe they should’ve gone to her place after all.
She giggled as she twirled, and it was almost as if she were a little girl again for a moment—carefree on a summer afternoon in their backyard. She stopped, facing him once more, and her eyes flitted to the gangway. “Where are we going?”
“You ever hear of the SS Rex ?”
Her eyes widened like saucers. “The gambling ship?”
“The very one. Unless…you don’t like the idea.”
She bit her lip. He should’ve known better. Lena was not made for seedy floating casinos. She was sunshine and whipped cream and everything wholesome and good. “I have to admit, it’s not my usual haunt.”
“We can do something else if you’d like.”
She chewed at her lip, clearly debating. “I’m already gambling tonight by being here with you. What’s a bit more? Besides, I’d hate to waste the dress. Joan picked it out especially for the occasion.”
He laughed. “That’s very practical of you.” He proffered her his arm. “Shall we, then?” She took it and he led her down the ramp to the water taxi that would take them three miles offshore to the biggest casino west of Monte Carlo. Lena was here, she was radiant, and they were on a date. To hell with anything else.
***
Don sipped at his martini, looking over the rim of the glass at Lena. She had an Aviation in her left hand, the purple cocktail glistening in the panoply of overhead lamps. In her right hand was a collection of poker chips. She bit the edge of one with her teeth, surveying the table as the roulette wheel began its inexorable spin toward wealth or disaster. “Ladies and gentlemen, place your bets.”
She put three one-dollar chips on red and cast a glance at Don as if she was seeking his approval. He winked at her. “It’s your money, Lena. Bet it however you want.”
She grabbed his hand and tangled her fingers with his, the few remaining chips in her hand sweaty between their palms. She squeezed his hand as the small white ball was released by the croupier and began its lap round the roulette wheel, her grip tightening as the ball clattered over a series of numbers before coming to stop on the red eighteen. Lena let out a yelp of pure glee and wriggled in excitement. She was a force to be reckoned with on set. Brilliant and calm and unquestionably in charge of her domain. But he liked seeing her like this too. Unfettered and joyful and utterly present.
Lena had always been a study in contradictions—methodical, pragmatic, and whip-smart but with a latent romanticism and lust for life. He hadn’t realized how much he relished bringing out that side of her. To give her an evening where she could let her guard down, where she wasn’t responsible for crossing every t and dotting every i , where the only person she had to keep happy was herself. It was a gift he hadn’t known he could give, and now he found himself wishing he could do it nightly. When he was free of Frankie’s clutches, he would. He was making that promise to himself now.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to his side, leaning down to kiss the spot where her neck met her collarbone. She sighed so quietly that only he could hear, and he grinned into her neck, the smell of her soap and the freesia perfume she wore filling his nose.
She’d been timid when they’d first arrived. Afraid still that she couldn’t be open with her affection where others could see. But now, she leaned against him, welcoming his touch. This was why he’d taken her here. So that they could be alone together in a crowded room.
He whispered in her ear. “Double or nothing?”
She shook her head. “No, I want some fresh air.” She reached for her winnings, stuffing the chips the croupier had stacked on top of her bet into her small clutch. He led her to a glass door near one of the casino’s many bars and pulled her into the night. Out here, the lights of Santa Monica and the cottages that lined the shores and hills of Malibu twinkled in the distance.
She sighed and leaned back against the railing, tipping her head back to look at the night sky. “It’s a full moon tonight.”
He followed her gaze. So it was. But to be honest, he didn’t care. He only had eyes for her and the strawberry-pink bow of her mouth and that delicious dress. He stood next to her, leaned down, and kissed her bare shoulder. “I’m glad you decided to come tonight.”
“I am too. I don’t remember the last time I stopped to look up at the moon. It’s beautiful.”
“So are you.” It was corny, but he meant it.
She turned her head to meet his eyes and studied him for a moment. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.”
He swallowed. “I was a fool. I have no other excuse to offer you. But I swear by the moon, I’ll never make you wait to hear it again. I’ll tell you as often as you like. You’re beautiful. You’re smart. You’re a radiant and unique creature.”
“‘Swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,’” she murmured.
“You always did have a soft spot for Romeo and Juliet .”
“I still love the poetry. Even if I’ve had enough of tragic romance. Star-crossed lovers aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.” He knew she didn’t mean the play. She meant them. The disappointment she’d felt in his absence and his silence. He didn’t know if he could ever make it up to her. He just knew he wanted to try.
A breeze ruffled her hair and he reached out, cupping her cheek with his hand and kissing her gently on the lips. She deepened the kiss, inviting him in. He slid his tongue into her, stretching the kiss into a long and dutiful worship of her mouth.
When they broke apart, she turned and placed her hands on the railing, looking out across the water. “You know how I told you I lay in the grass looking at the stars every night the year you left? I was really looking at the moon. Wondering where you were in New York. What you were up to. If you ever were looking up at the same moon as I was. I liked to imagine you were. That even if there were no letters and no phone calls, we still had the moon.”
He placed his hand on hers, ever so gently, wanting to erase the hurt and longing in her voice. But all he could do was be here now. The breeze picked up strength and she shivered. “Here, take my coat.” He started to shrug out of his suit jacket.
She put a hand to the center of his back and stilled him. “No, it’s all right. I’m fine.”
“Lena, I—” He met her eyes and she gave him a searching look, cocking her head like a puppy trying to understand the world around it. “Let me be there for you. Let me take care of you. Like you used to take care of me.”
She smiled, a knowing look that seemed to say You silly boy. “I can take care of myself, you know.”
“I know. I’ve never doubted it. I just…want to make up for lost time.”
She nodded and her eyes pooled with tears. Nuts, this wasn’t what he wanted at all. He was upsetting her. She looked down, then back up at him, blinking rapidly. “Excuse me, I need to powder my nose.” She pressed a hurried kiss to his cheek and turned to go inside before he could stop her.
He was about to follow her when a squeaky, all-too-familiar voice stopped him in his tracks. “You shouldn’t be here.”
He turned on his heel. “Eleanor. You’re supposed to be out with Eddie.”
She smirked. “Your setup stinks. I could smell it a mile away before Eddie even asked me if I wanted to grab a drink. Besides, the mug barely got inside the Frolic Room before he was talking the ear off some leggy blond. He didn’t even notice I left.”
Don ran his hand down his face. Eddie was the most loyal, trustworthy pal. Unless he got distracted by a pair of gams and a head of platinum hair. “But why are you here , Eleanor?”
“Are you stupid or something? You brought your girlfriend to Anthony Cornero’s boat.”
“She’s not my… You know what, that’s irrelevant. Anthony Cornero has no idea who I am. And I wanted to bring Lena somewhere beyond the prying eyes of Hollywood gossips.”
Eleanor snorted. “Gossips? They’re the least of your problems. Didn’t it sink into that thick skull of yours when I told you Frankie is always watching? Did that warning note mean nothing to you? You want Arlene to end up like Mabel?”
“No, God, no! Eleanor, don’t even suggest such a thing. Of course I don’t. But that warning did mean something. It reminded me why I’m here in Hollywood. To get away from Frankie. To stop jumping when he says jump.” Then something hit him. “Wait a second, how’d you know about the note?”
Eleanor darted her eyes back and forth. “Er, Eddie told me.”
“No, he didn’t. Because I never told him about it. I crumpled it up and shoved it in a drawer.”
Eleanor stomped her foot and looked remarkably like a toddler having a tantrum. “Fine. You want the truth? I sent you that note. Because you needed a reminder. You’re supposed to be helping me, Don. Not mooning over your director!”
Don cursed under his breath. Goddamn Eleanor, always meddling in his affairs. He should’ve known. That note, from its cut-out letters to its stealthy delivery, was not Frankie’s style. A flash of Mabel’s screams as the lye hit her face echoed in his memory. That was Frankie’s style. “It’s none of your business, Eleanor. You and I, we’re not a couple. Who I choose to spend an evening with is irrelevant to whether or not I help you. And your meddling makes me less inclined to be of assistance!”
Eleanor hung her head and pouted. “I’m just trying to protect you. And me! I don’t wanna wind up like Mabel either.” She kicked at the deck and looked up at Don, batting her eyes. Jesus, did that really work on other guys? “That’s why I left you the warning. You’re getting distracted. You and me, we got bigger fish to fry. You said you were going to fix things. But I’m still cha-cha’ing my derriere off at the Clover Club six nights a week, and Robert won’t take my calls.”
Don bit his cheek and prayed for patience. “So, what, you thought scaring me straight would make me spring into action?”
“Well, if you think about it, Donnie, it sort of did. You brought that woman here.”
“Her name is Arlene,” he bit out. “Kindly refrain from referring to her as ‘that woman.’” Eleanor looked peeved. Good. He was royally irritated with her. Leaving that harebrained note. Trailing him and Lena out here, which come to think of it… “How’d you find me here, anyway?”
“I followed you, you big dum-dum. You weren’t paying attention. You were too busy making goo-goo eyes at Madam Director.”
Don chose to ignore her comments about Lena. But if she’d gone to the Frolic Room with Eddie, even for only a few minutes, she could not have followed him. “You’re lying again, Eleanor.”
She scrunched up her nose and looked remarkably like a rabbit. Don held back a laugh. “Fine. Frankie never mentioned the gambling ship as a booking location. I brought it up because I had a feeling you’d want to take that dame, er, Arlene”—she corrected herself at a glare from Don—“I thought you’d want to bring her here. You couldn’t stop talking about her and her family every night last week at the club. Not exactly subtle, Donnie.”
Shit, had he been talking about Lena that much? He guessed so. But he’d been holding himself back all last week. Arlene had told him things couldn’t continue, so he’d tried to respect her wishes. He guessed all that longing and affection had spilled out in other ways during his nights dancing at the club. He hadn’t even realized he was doing it. But that still did not explain Eleanor’s elaborate attempt to catch him out. “Why would you follow me? We’re on the same side.”
“That’s not the point, the point is what if it hadn’t been me? What if it’d been someone else? Frankie? Or one of his goons?”
His stomach sank. He knew she was right. He was playing with fire—and Lena’s well-being. But hadn’t he made a promise to himself that he was going to stop letting Frankie and fear rule his life? Frankie Martino was halfway across the country. And Lena, beautiful and delectable in the moonlight, was right here. He puffed himself up with courage he didn’t actually feel. If he could convince himself…
“Frankie isn’t a problem, Eleanor. He’s in New York. He ain’t tailing us here. Besides, he thinks he’s about to cash in hamburger for a steak dinner with a plum studio contract. He’s not going to know about my plan to buy him out until it’s too late. I thought maybe Frankie had started to put the pieces together when I got that note. But now I know that’s not true. We have him right where we want him.”
Eleanor looked at him, her big blue eyes blinking at him like he was the dimmest man she’d ever met. She shrugged and turned on her heel, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “It’s your funeral.”
He reached out and grabbed her hand. “Eleanor, wait. You didn’t leave that note just because you thought I was distracted, did you?”
She turned and shook her head glumly, like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. He looked up and resisted the urge to yell at her. “What do you know?”
When he looked back at her, there was a stark look of fear on her face. It wasn’t the way she’d looked that first morning in his hotel room, desperate and pleading for his help. This was something worse. A hopeless, naked terror. “I didn’t mean to, I swear.”
“Eleanor…what did you do?”
She inhaled sharply, swallowing her own spit, and breaking out into a coughing fit. “N-n-nothing. I didn’t do anything.”
He grabbed her by the shoulders and resisted the urge to shake her. “You’re lying. What did you do?”
“I’m not—”
“Eleanor, we’ve been dance partners for almost a decade. I know your tells—and you are lying. Now, just tell me. What. Did. You. Do?”
She looked up into his eyes, and he almost laughed at what a petulant child she was. Her lower lip hung out, and she sniffed pathetically. “Promise you won’t get mad.”
Lord almighty, this woman. How had he faked a romance with her for years and toured all of Europe without losing his mind? He ran his hand down his face and inhaled, steadying his voice. “I promise. Now, tell me what happened.”
Her pout worsened and she began to cry. “I called Robert after that first night I saw you. I kept calling until he picked up. I told him that you were going to fix everything and then he’d see that I wasn’t lying and I was who I said I was and everything was going to be all right.”
Don closed his eyes and nodded. “And?” He had a feeling he knew what was coming next.
“He didn’t believe me, so I told him you’d come to Hollywood to get away from Frankie too. That it was your plan to rescue us both from that man.”
Don pressed his forehead to hers. “Oh, you didn’t, Eleanor. Tell me you didn’t.”
She wailed. “I’m sorryyyyyyy. I didn’t think.”
“Just tell me the rest of it.”
“I should’ve known it was a dumb idea. Robert has bought every single lie Frankie has told him, hook, line, and sinker. So, after I told Robert about your plan, he took it upon himself to call up Frankie and ask if all of this was true. That he loved me and he had to know. If everything Frankie had told him about us was a lie.”
“Oh, you little idiot.” Don sighed.
At this, Eleanor broke into great heaving sobs. Well, if Anthony Cornero and his lackies hadn’t realized they were on the boat by now, this would do it. She sounded like a bull seal about to give birth.
“Eleanor, stop, shhh, shhh, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” Don gritted his teeth and pulled Eleanor to him, wrapping her in an embrace and stroking her back to calm her. He felt her rub her nose on his tie. So much for his romantic date with Lena. A snot-covered tie wasn’t exactly an aphrodisiac.
Eleanor sniffed and regained enough composure to continue. “Don, Frankie knows. Robert called me last week and told me the whole story. He still believes Frankie, of course.” She blew away a strand of hair that had fallen into her face with a puff of air. “I call Frankie every few days to check in. Make sure he’s not getting suspicious.”
Don nodded. “So do I.”
“At first, I played dumb. Acted like I didn’t know Robert had called him. But last week, I tried to get off the phone by telling him my aunt was calling for me and needed her dinner. He flew into a rage. Told me he knows everything. That I’m not in California visiting my sick aunt, but because I came here to ask you for help. That he knows you’re planning to double cross him and get out of your contract.
“I’ve never heard Frankie so angry. He told me that if Lamont and Lester are done, then both of us are done once and for all. Frankie said I had to convince you that your plan was cockeyed. That I couldn’t tell you he was wise to us or he’d make sure nobody had a reason to ever call me beautiful again.” She gulped, swallowing air furiously as she tried to catch her breath. “A-a-and he said if I can’t change your mind, he’s going to make sure you can never dance again. That’s why I left you the warning.”
It was as if she’d socked him. Had this all been for nothing then? Renting the cheapest room in Hollywood, skipping meals, leaving Broadway to come back to California. Don thought of Eddie, probably dozing in his bed, blissfully unaware of the looming threat on their horizon. Eleanor might have been the one to leave the warning, but that didn’t mean Frankie wouldn’t send a bigger, more brutal one now that he knew what Don was up to. A chilling thought struck him. Don had tried to call Frankie a half-dozen times since Monday. His manager had been unavailable to take his call every single time. Because Frankie had known—and he was plotting something. Don had to get back to shore.
He stood, holding Eleanor, rubbing her shoulders, fear and anger holding him in a state of paralysis. Stupid, stupid Eleanor. He couldn’t blame her for calling Robert. She was trying to convince the man she loved, the father of her child, that she was true to him. But couldn’t she, just this once, have thought things through a little more?
In answer to his silent query, Eleanor snuffled into his shirt. He held her, patting her back, soothing her like the small child she was. He kissed the top of her head. “Shhh, it’s okay, Eleanor. It’s not your fault. We’ll figure it out.” He didn’t believe a word he was saying. But he needed Eleanor to stop crying, to let him think. He needed to find Lena and get them off this boat. The thought of her in danger because of him made his blood run cold. Eleanor was right. He never should’ve brought them here tonight. He’d gotten cocky, thinking he could stay a few steps ahead of Frankie, seduced by how close his freedom was that he’d thrown caution to the wind to prove a point to himself. Why had he done that?
Was he that blind, that pompous? No. He’d brought Lena here tonight because the idea of spending another evening out of her company was unbearable. He’d brought her here because he was desperate to be with her, no matter the risk. But he needed to get her off this boat as soon as possible without showing his hand.
“Eleanor,” he whispered, still holding her tightly. “You need to go. It will only make things worse if Lena sees you here. I need to get her home without letting her get wise to the fact that something is wrong.”
He was expecting Eleanor to protest, to insist she needed to stay, but she merely squeezed Don tightly for a few moments, brushed a kiss on his cheek, and disappeared back down the deck into the shadows from whence she’d come.