His Girl Hollywood

Chapter 10

Finally, after a few extra takes for safety, they’d gotten the scene right. Arlene should’ve stayed on set afterward. To talk to Don and Rita about tomorrow; to review the plan with her camera crew and director of photography. But the longer she’d watched Don do the scene, embracing Rita as he had done with her, the more she thought she might suffocate. The walls of the soundstage were closing in on her, and she needed to catch her breath.

She’d turned heel as soon as she’d yelled “Cut,” declared it a wrap for the day, and made a beeline for her office on the studio lot. She rushed in, closed the door, and leaned back against it, shutting her eyes before inhaling deeply through her nose and exhaling, the word “ Shit ” coming out with the plume of air.

“Well, now that’s no way to greet your biggest fan.”

Arlene nearly jumped out of her skin. “Joan.” Her eyes shot open. “What are you doing here?”

Movie star Joan Davis—technically Howard now—was sitting in the swivel chair behind Arlene’s desk. Her black leather pumps were propped atop the desk next to Arlene’s Oscar and a disorganized stack of script pages. “I came to see how your first week went—and to take you out for a drink to celebrate.”

“Oh, that’s… You didn’t need to do that.”

Joan swung her heels down onto the parquet linoleum floor and stood. “Of course I did! I might have put some cracks in that old glass ceiling, but you’re obliterating it. That deserves at least one very strong cocktail. Besides, since Harry’s making me lie low for a while, I’ve got an awful lot of free time on my hands.”

Arlene blushed deeply. Joan was too good. Most of Hollywood was afraid of her and her take-no-prisoners attitude. But Arlene had only known her to be a caring and supportive friend. Even if she did see decidedly less of Joan since she’d married leading man Dash Howard. “Well, that’s very kind of you. But I’m worn out. Don’t have to tell you how exhausting making movies is. Next Friday night instead?”

Joan saw right through her attempt to dismiss her with the excuse of work. “What’s wrong, kid?”

“Joan, I am only four years younger than you.”

Joan grinned, her signature slash of red lipstick transforming from a cupid’s bow to a straight line interrupted by gleaming white teeth. “Yeah…so as I said, kid , what’s wrong? Don’t try to get out of telling me by pointing out technicalities.”

Arlene sighed and crossed behind the desk to sit heavily in her chair. She flung her arms atop it and buried her face in them. “Just…everything.”

“Is someone on that set disrespecting you? If so, I’ll set them straight. By the time I’m done, Harry won’t have much of them left to put on suspension. But I’ll still make sure he does.”

Arlene laughed. This was why she loved Joan. No one could match her for loyalty. “You’re going to ask him to put half the studio on suspension?”

“That bad?”

Arlene nodded, her forehead scraping against the desk as she remained flung across it. “That bad. They’re arrogant bastards, every one of them. But they’re my arrogant bastards. Them, I can handle. Sending you running to Harry will only make things worse.”

Joan sat on the edge of the desk and reached out her hand, picking up Arlene’s chin and cradling it in her hand. “Then what is it? You can tell Mama. Tell Mama all.”

Arlene fought back the tears that welled up at Joan’s words. “It’s nothing, I’ll get over it. I lost my head for a minute today, that’s all.”

“Over the sets? The lighting? A costume? What? You’re the director now. You’ve got license to be a little tyrannical over your creative vision.”

Arlene huffed out a watery laugh. “No, I wish. Over Don Lamont.” Arlene groaned and pushed Joan’s hand away, leaning back in her chair and staring up at the tiled ceiling. Maybe she could stay here until tomorrow and count the dots in the ceiling. That should bore her enough to get this out of her system. To make her forget what an absolute fool she’d been.

Joan frowned. “Don Lamont? The new leading man from Broadway? Is he getting too big for his britches? This is his first picture, for Pete’s sake.”

Arlene huffed, a sigh making her lips flutter like a horse’s. “No. I mean, he is being irritating about the choreography, but it’s nothing like that.” She winced, not wanting to admit this. Joan could pick apart a secret faster than a kid could a scab. But Arlene was slowly losing her mind hiding her past with Don from the crew. “We have a history together. I’ve known him since we were children.”

Joan got a mischievous glint in her eye that made Arlene wish she’d kept her mouth shut. “Wait a second…you told me once that you’d been in love only once before. With a boy you grew up with. Arlene, it’s not… It can’t be.”

Arlene closed her eyes and nodded. “It is. Or it was…and I just kissed him on set in front of everyone.”

Joan gasped. “Oh, Arlene. Why?”

“It wasn’t like that, I swear. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get the love scene right, and I was trying to show him what I wanted. And then I don’t know, suddenly I was in his arms and he was kissing me. I don’t know what happened. I got carried away by the lights and the cameras, I guess. But Don and me—that’s not something that can happen. Not now, not ever.”

Joan’s mouth twisted into a moue. “Well, maybe not ‘not ever,’ but I can’t say that it’d be a good idea right now.”

Arlene groaned and slumped over the desk again. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I promised myself it wouldn’t! I’m not even sure I want to be his friend again. Not after so much…time. But now that it has happened, well, it simply can’t happen again. I need to focus on this film, on making it the best it possibly can be. I’ve waited too long for this.”

“Darling, if I know anything, it’s that love comes at the most inopportune moments.”

Arlene laughed. “That’s an understatement.” She sighed and bit her lip, trying to explain the complications of this to Joan. “But I don’t love him. Not anymore. And I don’t want him to get the wrong idea, that’s all. I’m his director, his boss. Not his latest fling. Besides, he never looked twice at me when we were kids. I’m not his type. He’s involved with his dance partner. I saw her going into his hotel last night. The last thing I need is to be implicated in some love triangle.”

“Leda’s had her teeth pulled…for now. You’ll be all right.”

“Thanks to you and Dash.”

Joan smiled and got a dreamy, lovesick look in her eyes. Arlene’s stomach somersaulted. She was happy for her friend. That she’d found a man who loved her, who deserved her, and that together, they’d beaten the odds and the Hollywood machinery determined to keep them apart. “But what if someone else takes up Leda’s penchant for poisonous gossip?”

Joan squeezed Arlene’s shoulder. “It was one kiss, Arlene. And this town has a surprisingly short memory. Lay down the law and keep your distance from now on. Don will get the hint. If he doesn’t, he’s a cad and you should have him fired. If you stay the course, everyone will dismiss it as first-week jitters from an actor making his screen debut and a hands-on director.”

“That’s one word for it,” Arlene snorted. The retort sent the two women into a fit of giggles. Arlene was leaning against the desk, using her arm to keep herself upright as she doubled over. “Oh, Joan, what a mess.”

“You and I both know that everything in Hollywood is a bit of a disaster behind the scenes. If I had a dollar for every director that made a pass at their leading lady the first week, I’d be…well, even richer than I am now.”

Arlene wiped tears of laughter from her eyes and caught her breath. “Thank you for that. I needed it. But I’m afraid of myself. Of my own weaknesses. When Don left for New York and he never wrote, never called, it wrecked me. I worked as a clerk at the corner store down the block from my parents’ house for a whole year after he left. I’d been planning to apply for a secretarial job at a studio right away. But he took some part of me with him. Something it’s taken me years to get back. Because everything I thought about Don turned out to be a fantasy, and I told myself that my dreams were the same—the hollow imaginings of an immature child. But I finally have the thing I’ve wanted most in this world within my grasp. I’m not going to let him ruin it for me.”

Joan looked at her thoughtfully. “Do you remember what you told me when I thought Dash and I were finished?”

“To not forget we were all behind you?”

“Well, yes, that. But no—you refused to let me give up on happiness. To keep living as a shell of myself, going through the motions. You taught me to fight for joy, Arlene. For the things I wanted most. If your happiness is directing, then you won’t give up on it. You’re too determined. Hell, you’re too damn good at it. And if you do decide you wanna screw your leading man, maybe not Don, but whoever comes after him, well, more power to you.”

“Joan!” Arlene shrieked. Though the bawdy joke did make her feel a little better. “You know better than anyone that the world is looking for a reason to count women out, to discredit our success. I’m not going to give them the room to do that. Not with Don, not with anybody. I want to remind people what women behind the camera can be in this industry.”

Joan patted her hand and picked her handbag up off the desk, pushing the Oscar on the corner of the desk meaningfully in Arlene’s direction. “And I have no doubt that you shall.” She tapped the statue on his head and winked. “You’ve already got this to your credit. They can’t take that away from you.”

Arlene looked from Joan’s face to the Oscar—the thing that had got her here. That had opened this door. She didn’t know if it was reassurance or a reminder of all the ways she might fall short. “I hope you’re right.”

“It sounds like you need that drink even more than I thought.”

Just then, there was a knock at Arlene’s office door. Joan looked at her as if to ask “Who’s that?” and Arlene shrugged. She didn’t have any appointments on her calendar for the rest of the day. Maybe one of the crew had a question. Maybe Harry was here to fire her. She had no doubts John Sidell had already gone to the studio boss’s office and ratted her out again. Whatever it was, better to face it and be done with it. “Who is it?” she called out.

The door opened and the last person she wanted to see poked his head through. “Lena—shit, sorry, Arlene.” He slapped his hand to his forehead. “Miss Morgan, can I come in?”

Joan looked at Arlene and raised her eyebrows in a knowing way. Arlene wanted to tell her to shut up, but Joan hadn’t actually said anything. “I’ll see you next Friday, then?”

“Wait, Joan, don’t go… I can talk to Mr. Lamont on Monday.”

“I’d love to stay, kid, but I promised Dash that I’d meet him for dinner.”

Arlene found that excuse extremely convenient, considering that Joan had been the one to invite her out for a drink. But it would only make things worse to point that out. Instead, she smiled and said, “Next Friday. Musso and Frank’s at seven?”

“See you then.”

Joan turned on her heel and sashayed her way out, strutting past Don in the way only a true movie star could.

“Come in, Mr. Lamont,” Arlene muttered, not seeing a way out of this now that Joan had left her with the one man that she absolutely should not be alone with.

***

Don could’ve sworn that Joan Davis winked at him as she brushed by. He was so starstruck that he half forgot what he was doing. “Huh?”

He craned his head and watched Joan go down the steps at the end of the hall.

“I believe you wanted to see me about something,” Arlene drawled. He turned back to face her and was delighted to see her suppressing a grin. “Don’t worry, Joan has that effect on people.”

He blushed and looked at the floor. This was not a good start. “No, I wasn’t. I didn’t…”

“It hardly matters since I doubt you came to my office to talk about Joan Davis. Who, as it happens, is very happily married to Dash Howard.”

“I know that,” he retorted. Oh God, he was digging this hole deeper. “I needed to talk to you.” He looked up and caught her eyes. There was a flicker of something there, a strain of hurt. It surprised him. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the mask of professionalism Arlene seemed determined to maintain around him.

“I’d really prefer we never speak about this afternoon again, if you don’t mind.”

Don’s face flared red at her remark. Out of embarrassment or a tinge of regret, he couldn’t say. He cleared his throat. “Actually, that wasn’t what I came to talk to you about.”

A furrow of confusion wrinkled Arlene’s brow before her face returned to smooth indifference.

“Though I do owe you an apology for that.” Don didn’t want to apologize. He wanted to understand. Why he hadn’t been able to resist kissing her in the heat of the moment. Why she’d given in, kissed him back. The kiss had rattled him. He’d never once thought of kissing Arlene before today. Now, he was starting to wonder why he hadn’t. She was attractive. Hell, who was he kidding? She was gorgeous. And capable and smart. Far more than he would ever deserve in a woman and yet so many things that he had always wanted. How had he not seen that before? Had they both changed that much?

But maybe it was for the best he hadn’t noticed. If he had, she’d be caught up in Frankie Martino’s web right along with him. It would be her haunting his dreams instead of Mabel Snyder.

But it wasn’t only his attraction to her that was new. It was her detachment, her constant need to point out the ways in which he was falling short, her inexplicable ire at the sight of him. All he wanted was to fix that. Right the wrong he’d done her, despite having no idea what it was. He could master the attraction. After Mabel, he’d learned to sideline his desires. It wasn’t worth the risk to whatever dame caught his eye. But he wanted to be friends with Arlene at least. Like they once had been. He was thousands of miles away from Frankie. Surely, he could have a friend. At least to make life on set easier, if nothing else. That shouldn’t be so hard. All she had to do was meet him halfway. But her opinion of him seemed appallingly low, given that his attempt to apologize had surprised her.

Or so it seemed—because she was leaning forward on the desk now, a more casual pose than the all-business rectitude she’d assumed the second he entered her office. “An apology? Whatever for?”

He was unsure how to respond. “Uh, well, I mean,”—he coughed—“I should think it would be obvious.” Had his collar suddenly ignited into flame, or was that the heat of his discomfort creeping up his neck?

She blushed and looked determinedly at the floor. “While I have no doubt you’re more experienced than I am, Mr. Lamont, it’s my understanding that it takes, what’s the expression, two to tango?”

If he’d had anything in his mouth, he’d have choked. There was no way he didn’t look like he was suffering from a terrible sunburn. And she’d called him Mr. Lamont again. The warmth and familiarity they’d shared for that brief moment on set had been extinguished with that kiss. “Well, at any rate, I am sorry…for getting…carried away.”

He could’ve sworn he saw the hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth, but it was gone in an instant. “As am I. But as I said, I’d prefer we pretend it never happened. I’m sure you would as well.”

He wanted to ask why she assumed that. He wanted badly to know if she’d felt even a flicker of what he had. He could’ve sworn she did. The way she’d melted in his arms and opened for him. In that moment, the set, the crew, everything had faded away, and it had been her warm, supple curves in his arms. That wasn’t the response of a woman who was indifferent. But hell, what did he know? It wasn’t like he had heaps of experience. No matter what Arlene seemed to think. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it had been entirely one-sided.

She leaned back in her chair once more and steepled her hands under her chin. “Have a seat, Mr. Lamont.”

He did as he was told, pulling out the lumpy brown leather chair directly across from her. It had cracks in it and was misshapen. The studio might have given her a directing job and an office, but it was clear they’d filled it with cast-off furniture. It made him indignant on her behalf. The woman had an Oscar; it was sitting right there. They couldn’t have given her a new chair?

He sat down and perched on the edge of the brown chair, unable to sit back and relax in any sense of the word. A small crack in the leather niggled at his backside, but he tried to ignore that. It wasn’t any more uncomfortable than anything that had occurred in the last few minutes.

“Now, what was it you came to see me about?”

Right, yes. He’d nearly forgotten. He rolled his shoulders back and sat up straight, trying to project an image of confidence. “Uh, well, it seems like Rita’s ankle is doing better. So, as you know, next week we’ll be going back to the first number from Monday—the one where I pretend to not know how to dance and Rita teaches me and then we show off for her boss?”

“Yes, as it happens, I made the schedule. And I have read the script.”

God, what a mess he was making of this. “Of course, I didn’t mean—” What was it about this new version of Lena that made him turn into a gibbering idiot?

“What did you mean then?” She was stone-faced, and he was overwhelmed by the sensation that he was a naughty schoolboy sitting in the principal’s office.

He gulped. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to get this right.”

She didn’t smile, but her face softened ever so slightly. “So am I.” She said it so firmly that he was sure that was her way of dismissing him, but then she continued. “What did you need to discuss? Surely, you didn’t come here to tell me the shooting schedule.”

He closed his eyes and inhaled, trying to recover from what had been an utter disaster from the moment he entered the room. Best to spit it out. “I’d like permission for my assistant choreographer, Eddie Rosso, to be on set.” He exhaled it all on one breath.

“Okay.”

“He’s really important to me, and I’m a better dancer when he’s with me. I think we could really add some nice flourishes to the dance and boost the comedy in the moments where I’m pretending to be inept. And I trust him more than I trust my own mother. Well, maybe not my mother, God rest her soul. But, erm, well, more than I trust your mother, which you know when I say that is really saying something. I’ll be a lot more confident if I have him here, so with your blessing… Wait, did you say okay?”

She did smile then, one of those toothy grins he remembered from when they were kids that lit up her whole face. He’d never realized how beautiful it was. Not until he’d been denied it. She chuckled. “I did.”

“Just…just like that? But before, you—”

“On those occasions, you told me he would be coming. And when I told you no, you acted like a petulant child who’d had his favorite toy taken away. Today, you asked.”

He was speechless. He’d come in here ready for a fight. Jumbled from their kiss, frustrated by his inability to deliver what she needed on set, still churned up by his nightmare, he’d been prepared to have an argument. Especially because she’d seemed dead set against Eddie stepping foot on the studio lot. “But I thought you—”

“I ask one thing and one thing only from my cast and crew—that they respect me.” She reached for the jumbled papers on her desk and began straightening their edges, lifting the pile to tap them into a neat stack. “I don’t have an issue with you having a partner at your side who you feel makes you better. If this week is any indication, you could clearly use the help. I only request that I have the final word on any decisions. As the director. It seemed like you didn’t care what I wanted or that I am in charge. And make no mistake, I am in charge.”

There was a bit of a warble in her voice, the suggestion that maybe she didn’t entirely believe what she was saying. That some part of her was still trying to convince herself. But damn if he didn’t find the entire thing ridiculously attractive. He liked this Lena, this assertive woman who wasn’t afraid to take up space. But his heart surged at the recognition of the nervous little girl underneath, the dreamer who didn’t know if she’d ever get to make those hopes a reality. Besides that utterly unexpected kiss, it was the first crack he’d seen in her no-nonsense demeanor. The first sign that she remembered the way things used to be when they were two kids with big dreams.

“I would never suggest you weren’t,” he murmured.

“Not on purpose.”

He flinched. “What does that mean?”

She sighed and reached for the script pages again, running her finger along their rough edges. “Never mind. Pretend I didn’t say that.”

But he couldn’t let this go. Ever since he’d got here, she’d been holding him at arm’s length. He needed to get to the bottom of it. Or else it would just sit there, this unnamed thing festering between them. He couldn’t work like that. Eleanor had been the queen of passive aggression, and it had made for a terrible working relationship. He wouldn’t do that again. This was supposed to be a fresh start in Hollywood.

“No, honestly, Arlene, tell me. If I’ve disrespected you or done something wrong, I need to know.”

“It’s nothing.” She pulled the script closer to her and plucked a pen from its stand on the desk. “I really need to review these pages.” She bent her head and started underlining something. So, he stood, put his hand over the pages, and stilled her hand.

“It’s clearly not nothing. Tell me.”

She looked up at him and he nearly gasped. At this angle, she was stunning. Her lips glistened, their natural pinkness flushed where she’d bitten them. Her green eyes sparkled, concealing a million things, and the copper strands in her hair glinted in the harsh overhead office lighting. It would be so easy to lean over and kiss her. To thread his fingers through the morass of her hair, mussing it even further than the disheveled tangle that was evidence of her hard day’s work. But he was dead certain that if they were to ever be friends again, that was completely off-limits.

She broke the spell in an instant. “The other night you barreled in here and acted like you owned the place.” He started to protest and she held up her hand. “You asked, so let me finish. I didn’t like the way you assumed Eddie could just show up without my permission. That you were talking to the studio about choreographing a dance. That when I asked you to follow the choreographer the studio assigned, you couldn’t execute a single step without mucking it up. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but this is my picture, Don, not yours.”

“I didn’t know. I just assumed I was supposed to talk to the studio about things like that. This is my first picture. I’m learning as I go. Lena, I’m sorry, I never would’ve done that on purpose. I want this to be our picture. Like old times.” He hoped she could hear the nostalgia in his voice, the yearning to recapture the friendship they’d had. Things had been so simple between them once.

She looked so pained. He could’ve sworn there were tears glistening in her eyes, but she blinked and they were gone. Replaced by the saddest smile he’d ever seen. “This isn’t our parents’ backyard. I’m not following you around anymore.”

She could’ve kissed him again and it would’ve surprised him less. “Lena, you never followed me around. We were partners.”

She shook her head and bit her lip again. “I thought we were, but we weren’t.”

He was speechless. How could she say that? They’d been inseparable.

“This can’t be like old times.” She’d recovered a note of steel in her voice. “Don’t you see that? Lena Morgan and Don Lazzarini belong to the past. And that’s where they’ll stay. Now you’re Don Lamont and I’m Arlene Morgan, and this is my picture. My dream coming true. You got yours already, Don. Help me get mine. Then, you can go back to New York and Eleanor Lester and forget all about us.”

“What if that’s not what I want?” Never mind that he couldn’t go back. That he wouldn’t. That he was going to free himself with the money he made from this picture or die trying. He’d had enough of rapacious bullies and the stranglehold they’d had on his life. First his father, then Frankie. He was done with New York.

“What you want, besides the success of this picture, is none of my business.” She bit her bottom lip again, so hard he worried she might draw blood. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Lamont.”

That was that then. This conversation was over. He could try again, but what was the use? She’d made it clear there was nothing more to discuss. So, he nodded and turned to go to the door, twisting the brass doorknob in his hand and noticing that the door stuck a little.

Jesus Christ, they really had given her the worst office on the lot, hadn’t they? No wonder she was so determined to prove herself, despite having nothing to prove. Screw whoever couldn’t see that. He stopped. He wanted to turn around and face her, to tell her she was incredible and that he’d been a stupid kid, that his arrogance had landed him in more trouble than she could imagine. But he couldn’t do it. “We’ll make this a hit, Lena. I swear. I need it too. But it’s your picture, you’re right.”

He paused, but she said nothing and he slipped through the door, gently pulling it closed behind him. Just as it snicked in the latch, he heard her call out, “I look forward to meeting Mr. Rosso.”