Meet Me at the Starlight

Chapter 31

MATT

Milo charged a buck a person to let tourists walk through the jail and take pictures of the Matt Knight behind bars, reclining on a narrow cot, hands locked behind his head, legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles.

Imagine, in all that kerfuffle, he was the only one arrested. Harry’s testimony was he moved to calm down Dale, tripped on the Starlight’s old carpet and into Granny.

Dale insisted he had no intention of harming Granny. His I’m-appalled-at-this-accusation expression was worthy of the big screen.

However, Matt’s testimony that he never intended to hit Dale was refuted by so-called eyewitnesses and he was arrested.

Word spread through the night to the morning Rollo on the Radio show that Matt Knight was behind bars. When folks began to visit the Sea Blue Beach jail, Milo started charging. If Matt retained any ego while sitting behind bars, Milo’s scheme put him in check.

“This is fantastic. Matt Knight. I had no idea when I booked our vacation here we’d see a movie star.” A woman with a camera in hand waited as her husband paid the admission for a family of four. “Is Harlow Hayes here? Can we see her?”

“All you get is Matt Knight,” Milo said. “Thank you for your donation to the Sea Blue Beach Police Benevolence League.”

The little girl, around nine or ten, pressed her face between the cell bars. “Do you need some water?”

Matt sat up, touched by her sweet offer. “No, thank you. I just had breakfast.”

“What’d you do to get in here?”

“Do you know what it means to plead the Fifth?” He didn’t mean to put his fist between Dale, Harry, and Granny, but instinct kicked in. And maybe his loathing for Dale Cranston. Just a little.

“Yeah, my brother says it all the time when he’s in trouble.” The little girl cut Matt a side grin. “Me too.”

“Atta girl.”

“Jackie, smile for Mama.” The woman snapped a photo of her daughter talking to Matt before Milo hustled the family along.

“Any more tourists out there?” Matt stretched back out on the cot. “How much have you made? Twenty bucks? You’ll answer to God for this, you know.”

“I’m up to seventy-eight big ones. I let a few people pass through while you were sleeping.”

“Andy Griffith would never do this, you know. Never.”

“I couldn’t resist, Matt. You’re going into the judge any minute now. Look at it this way, I’m building public sympathy.” He glanced toward the door as more tourists entered. “Come on in. See Lieutenant Striker behind bars. Step this way. That’s a dollar per person. Even kids.”

Matt smiled and waved, wondering when Bodie would get him out of here. He seemed rather irritated last night when Matt called.

“Please stop allegedly hitting people. The state was just about to drop your case. They won’t now.”

The morning passed with one court delay after another, so he remained the main attraction in Milo’s little circus. As the day wore on, more and more folks filed through the jailhouse door.

“My sister and I called off work to drive down from Thomasville, Georgia.”

“I was just happening through and stopped for a bite at the Blue Plate.”

“Can I have your autograph?” A young woman stuck a pen and autograph book through the bars. Matt obliged.

He smiled for the cameras and signed autographs, imagining this to be one of the more interesting chapters for his autobiography. The women flirted. The girls giggled and blushed. The men shook his hand, cleared their throats, and delivered lines like, “Dug you in Flight Deck and Cochise County.” Boys passed by with bored expressions and said, “Cool.”

Matt picked up bits and pieces of conversation.

“The Starlight is being demolished? I’d love to live in Sea Blue Beach. I’d skate there all the time.”

“Our skating rink back home closed.”

“Have you seen Harlow Hayes? I heard she lives here.”

“I was hoping to get a glimpse of Harlow Hayes. Supposedly she gained a lot of weight. Welcome to my world.”

The midafternoon rush faded, and Matt stretched out on his cot again. Milo left to answer a call from dispatch. He came back with Dad in tow.

“You want me to bring some of your things from home?” Dad stood at his cell. “Make this feel more like your room?”

“Very funny.” Matt scrambled off the bunk. “How’s Granny?”

“Home, resting. Dr. Peters took a look at her. She hit her head pretty hard, bruised her right arm, but no concussion. No broken bones.”

“I want to file charges against Dale.”

“Actually, Harry’s saying it’s all his fault. He feels horrible. Bodie is on his way to see the judge. Dale is blaming you for everything and pushing for jail time.”

Matt leaned against the cell door. “I’m sorry for all this mess.”

“Don’t be,” Dad said. “I’ve been dying to punch Dale Cranston since high school. But your granny would’ve given me the business. I will say this about you, son, never a dull moment when you’re around. Can we talk about your dramatic entrance and kiss with Harlow... ?”

“I was wondering the same thing.” Harlow stood in the doorway.

“Hey, HH.” Matt gripped the bars. “Dad, can you give us a moment?”

“Seems we’ve played this scene before,” Harlow said when Dad had gone. “Me out here, you in there.”

“This wasn’t how I saw things going.”

“You’re an actor. Play out the real scene for me.” She perched on the edge of Milo’s desk. “Does this theater have popcorn?”

“Harlow, that wasn’t the Matt Knight kissing the Harlow Hayes. It was regular Matt kissing a girl he’s crazy about.”

“Hey, Matt, I was thinking about ordering from the taco truck. Do you—” Milo glanced between the cell and his desk and turned around. “That’s right, I forgot I have lunch with the chief.”

“Milo, man, can you let her into the cell? Please?”

“No can do. It’s against regulations to allow a civilian in a cell with a perp.”

“Milo, you turned the jail into a tourist attraction. I think you can let Harlow in for a few minutes. Please.”

“Five minutes.” He unlocked the door. “If Chief finds out, I’m in deep doo-doo.”

The lock clicked, and a rather shy Harlow joined him on the cot. “Now we’re both on the inside.”

Matt was unsure if he should hold her hand or just go for it and hold all of her. His buzzing lips made their preference known.

“Xander was here,” she said. “A few weeks ago. He sailed down on his yacht.”

“I see.” Matt’s lips buzzed a little less.

“Xander’s influence played a role in me being named Most Beautiful Woman in the World.” She shifted around so her back rested against the cold, brick wall. “He didn’t mean to tell me, but in his zeal to prove he loved me, he leaked a few details.”

“Influenced? How?”

Harlow made a face.

Of course he knew how. “Money.”

“I’m a fraud, Matt. An Anne Hayes/Xander Cole composite. Fulfilling Mom’s dreams to rub elbows with the rich and famous, to touch the beautiful people, Hollywood. For Xander, being the envy of every man in the world. Makes me wonder if Harlow Hayes can actually do anything on her own. Does she have any ambition other than to keep her mother from crying? Think, Matt, a childhood perception has informed my whole life.” She smacked the wall with her hand. “This, this place—ha, a metaphor for Harlow Hayes. A prisoner of someone else’s doing. No, her own doing.”

“HH, slow down, back up. What’s this about your mom? I’m missing some details here.”

“That Sunday after you called me, I went snooping.” She told him what she’d discovered, a story of a secret pregnancy and unrequited ambition.

“So that’s what your mom was crying about when you were seven years old? Because she never got the chance to be a model and actress?”

“Pretty much. She saw potential in me. Had the connections. Dad went along with it to make her happy. To make up for his part in ruining her dream. He also thought I wanted to model because I never protested. Never rebelled. Oh my word, just listening to this story sounds like a Dynasty plot.”

“Write me into the script, will you? I’m a successful actor carrying around guilt for his part in ruining his best friend’s life, stumbling into an unbelievable career, which he doesn’t deserve because of what he did to his friend. And to be honest, wondering if acting is really his life’s calling.”

“Aren’t we a pretty pair?”

“Well, you are,” he said with a wink.

“Stop.” But Harlow blushed a little, and his lips buzzed again. “What’s the magic formula?” she said. “How do we find out what we were put on this earth to do? Dad knew he was the cookie monster of Hayes Cookies Company when he was a kid.”

“Granny became the keeper of the Starlight, which fit her perfectly. Dad apprenticed with a construction company before the war and found his calling.”

“If it’s any consolation, you’re a fabulous actor, Matt. Maybe you’re so successful because you were born to do it.”

“You, Harlow, are an amazing model. And a good actress. Maybe you’re successful because you were born to do it. Granted, your folks went about it the wrong way.”

“Yet here we are, two famous and beautiful people, sitting in a jail cell. The metaphor continues.” There was a bit of sarcasm in her voice. “Wonder what it would feel like to be free. On the inside. No more guilt. No more eating my pain.” Harlow walked over to the cell bars. “No more not liking myself.”

“My former publicist said I should figure out what’s eating me. Dad said the same thing, suggested I call Booker, try to make amends. But even thinking about it makes me queasy. I can’t shake it. I’m still the guy who came home for Christmas right after my first movie, saw Booker at the Starlight, and got torn to shreds. In front of everyone. He blamed me for everything wrong in his life right down to his latest relationship flop. Said my big mouth ruined his life.” Matt joined Harlow at the cell door.

“I get it. I’ve borne the weight of Mom’s tears all these years. Maybe that’s what my weight is all about—Mom’s tears. Yet we’re all responsible for our own actions. I can blame Mom or Xander all day long for why I ate myself out of a career, but no one put the food in my mouth. Just me.” Harlow lifted her gaze to Matt. “Seems we’re prisoners of our choices.”

“Maybe I hit Dale because I see myself in him. I wish someone would punch me.”

“Look at us, a couple of philosophers. Maybe what appears to be random events or accidents is just part of the journey to our destiny.” Harlow lightly touched his arm. “I wouldn’t have had such an amazing kiss last night if Xander hadn’t broken my heart. If I’d not lost my job.”

“You think the kiss was amazing?”

“You couldn’t tell?”

He pulled her into him. “About that kiss . . .”

“And your declaration.” She rested her hands on his chest.

“I meant it.” He held her a bit closer. “I’m in love with you, Harlow, but since you didn’t answer me—”

“Matt, I really need to get clear of Xander first,” she said. “And work some things out with my mom. When I tell you what’s in my heart, I want there to be nothing weighing me down.”

“See, there’s the HH I knew on set. Wise, reasonable, in command, and breaking my heart.”

“Oh, gag me with a spoon, why don’t you?” She laughed. “On set you were gaga for your real co-star, Hazel Rosen.”

“Only because I didn’t stand a chance with you.”

“You have a chance with me now, Matt. But do you really want me?” She broke free of his embrace and motioned to her tall frame and full figure. “I’m not the girl on the cover of a Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition. I never will be again.”

“I want the girl on the inside, and just so you know, the girl on the outside is darn sexy. Though it might be good to stop sabotaging yourself.”

“Fair enough. I’d like you to get rid of the guilt over Booker. Call him, Matt.”

“Ah, Harlow Hayes negotiates. Deal. Should we seal it with a kiss?”

“Matt Knight.” Daggum Milo. “Bodie’s here. You’re going to see the judge.”

“Officer Patitucci, bro, your timing . . .” Matt sighed and pressed his forehead against Harlow’s. “I’ll take an IOU.”

“I gave you two extra minutes.” Milo swung open the cell door. “Not my fault you couldn’t get it done. I’d have kissed her a half dozen times already.”

So Matt stood before the judge on a Wednesday afternoon, a bit bleary-eyed and disheveled, with Harlow vibes thumping in his chest. He was released on his own recognizance while the state investigated additional charges.

“Matt,” Bodie said as they walked out of the courthouse, “stay away from Dale Cranston. This is two misdemeanor counts now.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll talk to the assistant state attorney when I get to the office.”

On his way home, Matt stopped to see Granny. She was sweeping up the kitchen, declaring there was no need for folks to make such a fuss over her.

“It’s just a bump and a bruise. What’s going on with you?”

“You mean besides spending the night in jail?”

“Matty, do me a favor. Don’t stay angry at yourself. Don’t hold anything against Dale for what he says. Let’s show kindness and mercy. It’s the way of Immanuel.”

“Harlow was saying perhaps moments like these actually lead us to our destiny.”

“She’s a wise woman.”

Matt walked home by way of the Starlight. The orange Notification of Demolition signs glinted in the afternoon sun, and he felt as if the Starlight had lost a little piece of its soul.

Inside, the music played but the atmosphere was subdued.

“The joy seems gone, Matt,” Harlow said.

Since he was flying back to LA on Friday, hopefully he wasn’t really fired, he and Harlow made plans for tomorrow—breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

At home, Dad had scrambled up some eggs and laid thick slices of bacon in the cast-iron skillet for dinner.

“I’ve been thinking,” Dad said, getting up to pour another cup of coffee from the old percolator, a wedding present from when he married Mom. “What if I bring Granny out to Hollywood in August? Get her away from the demolition talk and the death of the Starlight. I can take time off. I’ll be finishing a big job next month, and the crew will have finishing work to keep them busy. Noble Haney can run things for me.”

“If you can get her to leave, sure. By the way, I’m selling the beach house and buying a sweet place I saw in the Hills. It’s small but homey.” Matt motioned to the kitchen. “Like this. There’s plenty of room for you and Granny. The back deck has a great view of the city.”

“I’ll talk to her.” Dad doctored his coffee with a scoop of sugar. “Say, do you think I could meet the Duke? The last movie I ever saw with your Uncle LJ was Stagecoach.”

“Dad, the Duke died ten years ago.”

“Then I’ll go by that theater with all the footprints.” A shadow of sadness passed over his face. “LJ and I sure loved that movie.”

“I wish I’d met him.”

“Me too. And your grandpa. He was a son-of-a-gun but a warrior. I see a bit of him in you—and not because you keep decking Dale Cranston.”

The conversation moved to town happenings, how to get Granny to California, Matt telling Dad he was buying him a dishwasher as he hung up the dishrag and dried his hands on a terry cloth towel.

They both turned at the knock on the kitchen door. A grim-faced Bodie stood on the other side.

“They’re bringing charges.” He set his briefcase on the table and accepted a cup of coffee from Dad. “We’re going to trial.”