Chapter 4 #2
My hair was in a snood, and my makeup had been applied by Max Factor, but I was still wearing my street clothes.
The makeup was heavier than I usually wore because of the lighting and cameras.
After Mr. Factor had applied his skin-colored cake makeup to fix any blemishes on my skin, he had added rouge, lipstick, and mascara with a bit of eyeliner to make my blue eyes look wider.
Vicky was sitting in the canvas folding chair next to me as Mr. Factor worked on her makeup. Her blue eyes caught mine in the reflection of the mirror. They were filled with questions, though she didn’t voice them.
“Is Mr. Hayes even here?” I asked Cal as I joined him near the door.
He shrugged. “I haven’t seen him.”
I left the wardrobe and makeup building through a side door.
My parents had built a large garden in the center of the studio complex with a man-made creek, a gazebo, and other features that were used in various movies.
It was hemmed in by the surrounding buildings, which provided a buffer from the traffic noise.
“There she is.”
Two middle-aged men turned to me, but I didn’t recognize either of them. One held a camera and had his fedora tilted back on his head. The other was tall and impeccably dressed. His dark hair was combed perfectly, and his black shoes gleamed. He was the first to extend his hand to me.
“I’m Frank Fellbaum, the press secretary for MGM Studios. And this is Mr. Conrad Harrison, our photographer. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Bennett. I’ve seen several of your pictures.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I shook their hands. “Is Mr. Hayes here?”
He cleared his throat and said, “Any minute. We thought it would be nice to stage a first meeting between the actor and actress who will be playing these iconic roles.” He motioned to Mr. Harrison. “Why don’t you scout out the garden and find a place for the two to meet?”
Mr. Harrison nodded and left us.
When he was out of earshot, Mr. Fellbaum said, “As far as the world is concerned, you two have never met. Mr. Mayer has appraised me of the situation, but outside of you, Spencer, and your parents, I’m the only other person who knows about the agreement.
Mr. Mayer would like us to photograph you together as often as possible so the public can watch you fall in love and reform Spence. ”
“Reform?” I lifted my eyebrows. “I wasn’t aware that I would be responsible for such an impossible task.”
Mr. Fellbaum laughed uncomfortably. “No one can reform Spencer Hayes, but the public doesn’t need to know that. It just needs to appear as if you’re reforming him.”
He held a folder under his arm and presented it to me now.
“I have already brought the legal papers to your father. All we need now are yours and Spence’s signatures.
You’ll see that I have a schedule for the two of you.
Mr. Mayer would like you to spend a minimum of five evenings a week together, outside of filming, to attend social events and gatherings. ”
“Five?”
“Just until filming ends,” he said quickly. “Some of those evenings can be spent quietly at home with your family. The photographer will be there on at least one occasion to capture pictures of your family meals together as Spence gets to know your folks.”
I held up my hand to stop him. “I didn’t agree to any of this. We will be filming most evenings.”
“Then we’ll capture the pictures here. Mr. Mayer drew up the terms and conditions of the agreement last night. You’re more than welcome to look over everything, but he won’t budge on any of it.”
“This is too much.” I shook my head and handed the folder back. “I can’t agree to five nights a week.”
“Your father already signed because he was under the assumption that you had agreed to this arrangement.” Mr. Fellbaum took the folder. “Mr. Mayer is prepared to do what it takes to get what he wants.” His jaw tightened. “Which would include blackballing you in Hollywood if you don’t agree.”
My back stiffened at the threat, even though Mr. Mayer had already warned me. It didn’t really matter anyway. If Spencer didn’t play Laurie, we’d already be in a lot of trouble.
“There he is now.” Mr. Fellbaum nodded toward the parking lot.
Anger and frustration filled my heart as I turned to look at the man I was supposed to fall in love with, at least on paper. None of this was his fault, though I couldn’t help but hold it against him.
Especially when I noticed he was still wearing his wrinkled tuxedo from last night—and he looked like he was hungover.
I stormed into the executive office building, shaking my head, and went upstairs to Papa’s office. I didn’t even bother to knock before I pushed open the door with his name painted in gold letters.
Papa sat at his desk, looking over the script for Little Women. He was going to direct the film, something he hadn’t done for years but was forced to do to save money.
“It doesn’t look like Spencer even went home last night!” I planted my feet and crossed my arms. “He’s wearing his tuxedo, and he reeks of stale alcohol.”
Closing his eyes briefly, Papa placed his hands on the desk and lifted himself off his leather chair. He had never looked older and more exhausted than he did in this moment. “Call him in here.”
“There’s no need. I told him to follow me.”
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t going to wait.” I paced to the other side of the office, needing to move. This film was our last chance. We couldn’t let a stranger ruin it for us.
Papa’s office was large with big windows facing Sunset Boulevard. Natural light poured into the room and showed Papa’s love for organization and order. Everything was in its place—every book, piece of furniture, and framed picture of his family.
Footsteps filtered into the office as Spencer arrived with Mr. Fellbaum.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Mr. Fellbaum said to Papa before he could speak. “Spencer is sorry, but several things prevented him from going home to change last night. He had to sleep in his tuxedo and didn’t have time to change this morning.”
I glared at Spencer. “I warned you—”
“I said yesterday would be the last day I drank.” He grinned. “And I stopped at exactly midnight.”
“Mr. Hayes.” Papa kept his hands on his desk, slightly leaning forward. “When I said to be here at precisely eight in the morning, I meant that you should be ready to start working at precisely eight in the morning. You are clearly in no position to work right now.”
“The alcohol wore off hours ago,” he said, though the aftereffects had clearly not diminished. He had large circles under his eyes and a shadow of a beard. He looked tired and bored.
“Did you sleep?” I asked.
“Who needs to sleep?” He winked. “You sleep when you’re dead.”
My mouth parted as Mr. Fellbaum turned to Spencer. “You agreed to this arrangement, so why not play nice? If you want to save your career, this is your only chance.”
Spencer motioned to me, though he still spoke to Mr. Fellbaum. “Is this worth it?”
Papa stepped forward in my defense. “Mr. Hayes, I will not have you treating my daughter in such a casual or dismissive fashion.”
Mr. Fellbaum turned his back on us and spoke quietly, but forcefully, to Spencer.
When he was done, Spencer’s face had hardened, and he worked his jaw back and forth for a moment before saying, “I’m sorry, Miss Bennett. Mr. Bennett. I was out of line, and I apologize.”
“I will write a clause in the agreement,” Mr. Fellbaum said as he set the folder on the table. “Mr. Hayes is not allowed to touch alcohol on or off the set until after the agreement has been completed. He is also not allowed to socialize in public without Miss Bennett’s company.”
“Come on, Fran—”
“Not even for a moment, Spencer,” Frank said as he wrote in bold script.
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“And I don’t want to be a babysitter,” I agreed.
Spencer’s brown-eyed gaze lifted to mine, and I could see anger and animosity directed at me.
I crossed my arms again. I could meet his hostility with my own. I didn’t want to do this any more than he did.
“There.” Mr. Fellbaum stepped back and handed me the pen. “All we need are your signatures.”
Papa took a deep breath and shook his head. “You don’t need to do this, Ally. We’ll find another way.”
There was no other way. We were already behind on filming, and we had no prospects for Laurie. It could take weeks to find someone, and there were few actors in Hollywood with the same star power as Spencer Hayes—and even fewer who would work for free.
Besides, if I didn’t do it, Mr. Mayer would see that my career ended, and I couldn’t let that happen.
I stepped up to the desk and read the agreement quickly, then I signed my name. My hand was steadier than I anticipated, until I turned and held the pen out to Spencer.
He stared at me for several seconds, and I could see he was at war with himself.
Spencer finally took the pen, and I stepped aside so he could sign.
“Wonderful.” Mr. Fellbaum grabbed the papers the moment Spencer finished and put them back in the folder.
He rested his hand on Papa’s shoulder and nodded at the door.
“Now, I think we should let these two have a moment alone to work out the details, and then Spencer can get cleaned up and we can take that first meeting photo.”
“What about filming?” Papa asked.
“That will come after the photo.”
“This is my studio, Fellbaum. And we’re under a tight deadline.”
“Ah.” Mr. Fellbaum tapped the papers. “But these two are under contract to take whatever photos I deem necessary, when I deem them necessary.”
Papa’s lips thinned, but he didn’t protest as he grabbed the script off his desk and said, “I want you two in costume ready to go by ten. Not a minute later.”
Mr. Fellbaum smiled and then closed the office door behind him and Papa, leaving Spencer and me alone.
“I know you hate me,” Spencer said as he leaned against Papa’s desk and rubbed his face.
“I don’t hate you.”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I can’t say that I like myself very much right now, either.”
“You’re the only person who can change that.”
“You don’t think I’ve tried?”
“Stop trying and start doing, Mr. Hayes. Therein lies your problem.”
He scoffed. “It’s that easy staying on the straight and narrow?”
“We all have choices to make. There’s nothing special about your life that makes it any harder. You probably have things a lot easier than most.”
A corner of his mouth came up as he regarded me, as if seeing me for the first time. “You’re not intimidated by me, are you?”
I frowned. “Why would I be?”
“Because I’m famous and handsome and dangerous.” He said the last word in a lower tone and lifted his eyebrow playfully, though I could see pain behind his gaze.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Spencer Hayes. You’re simply a man trying to figure out life like the rest of us. You might be a little handsomer than most, but that doesn’t mean I’m intimidated by you.”
“So you think I’m handsome?”
I wanted to roll my eyes after walking into that trap. Instead, I lowered my arms. “Are you ready to start this thing?”
He stuck out his hand. “I am if you are.”
I shook his hand, aware of his large grasp and the way my heart galloped faster at the feel of his skin against mine. I pulled away quickly but tried to cover my reaction by saying, “I suppose I should wish you a happy birthday.”
His laugh was full of derision. “Some kind of birthday this is shaping up to be.”
With a sigh, I let my face soften. This might not be my idea of fun, but we didn’t have to make it harder on ourselves. “I hope it turns around for you.”
He studied me for a moment, then his defenses seemed to come down. “It’s starting to look better.”
I didn’t like the way he was looking at me, so I said, “We never finished our conversation about Gold Rush! last night.”
“Gold Rush!? What is that?”
I stared at him, trying to read his response. Was he teasing me? If so, it wasn’t funny. “You don’t remember playing Cole Goodman in Gold Rush!?”
“I may forget some important things from time to time, but I remember every movie I’ve ever been in.” He frowned. “Are you feeling well, Miss Bennett?”
“Of course I’m feeling well. I feel just fine. You were nominated for best actor in Gold Rush! last night.”
“Perhaps it was you sampling the flask, because I was nominated for my portrayal of Wyatt Earp in Deadwood.”
My concerns started to mount. “You were nominated for Gold Rush!, but you didn’t win.”
His frown deepened as he stepped closer. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
“I’m feeling fine.” Except—I wasn’t. Why could Spencer not remember a movie he had played in, and why hadn’t my mother remembered the fire that was supposed to kill Bess?
When I had brought it up at the awards ceremony the other night, she had seemed very aware of the first San Francisco fire, but today she had seemed confused.
Unless.
Had history changed last night? Had the fire not happened? And if so, why not? Had I unknowingly changed something? Mama had always said that if I knowingly changed history I would forfeit the path I changed, but I hadn’t done anything on purpose.
“We should probably get you to wardrobe and makeup.” I opened the door and stepped out, needing to speak to my parents.
I showed Spencer to the wardrobe and makeup building and found Mama patching a hole on a pair of trousers.
Pulling her aside, I whispered, “Have you ever heard of a movie called Gold Rush!?”
She shook her head as she stuck the needle into the fabric. “No.”
My pulse picked up speed. “Do you know anything about the first fire in San Francisco in August 1849 or a man named Cole Goodman?”
Frowning, she said, “I know there were several fires in San Francisco over the years, but nothing stands out to me about the first one. And, no, I’ve never heard of a man named Cole Goodman.”
“He didn’t write a book about his time in San Francisco?”
“If he did, I’ve never heard of it.” She stopped sewing and gave me her full attention. “What’s this about, Ally? I have a lot to get done today.”
I swallowed the trepidation in my throat. “I think history changed last night, but I don’t know how. I remember the original history, but no one else does.”
She was quiet for a moment and then said, “My mother in the 1600s told me a little about this. She said that if history changes, only the time-crosser who was in the changed timeline remembers the real history. Since I’m not currently in that timeline, I don’t have any knowledge of it. I’m sorry.”
“What does it mean?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, but you’ll probably find out tomorrow.”
“Will I go back there?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“What if I did something to change it?”
“Did you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then you should be fine.”
I hoped she was right, because I wasn’t ready to leave Father or Hazel alone in Sydney Town.