Chapter 10 Ada #2
or the people working on them, the theaters won’t show my films, so I take public opinion very seriously. These matters will
settle soon, but even if they escalate, you are the prettiest face in Hollywood, and the new face of Hendrix Productions.
I protect my assets.” He winks, then wraps his arm around her waist, bringing her closer. “Be the woman the public expects—elusive,
alluring, and a damn good actress. Keep quiet about politics. Make me money. Do that for me, and I will keep you and those
important to you safe.”
The tightness in Ada’s chest releases. So the rumors are true. Studio heads protect their stars, and now she is one of them.
She can focus on doing her job and not concern herself with anything else.
After thanking Mr. Hendrix, she excuses herself. From her handbag, she produces a long cigarette holder, places a cigarette
on the end, lights it, and takes a deep, calming drag. At last, she can begin to enjoy this party.
First, the bar.
Near the luxurious fountain against the far wall, a long table is laden with bottles of clear and amber liquids, various wines,
sparkling crystal glasses, and fresh garnishes. As she approaches, a gentleman does the same. Ada freezes. Though his back
is to her, an aching familiarity couples with an unusual rush spreading across her skin.
In an industry so big, everything is actually so small. Everyone works with everyone else, knows everyone else, makes it their
business to know everyone else’s business. In spite of it all, somehow it’s been almost two years since she last saw Vince
Hart in person. Since—well, everything happened between them.
Ada steps to his side, though he fails to notice as he awaits the busy bartender. “This would be quite the opening scene for
a film: a man and woman meeting at a glamorous party.”
Vince turns. Almost as if he has been expecting her. As if this exchange, this moment, has always been inevitable: the moment
they would see each other again. Something seizes her insides—what it is or what it seeks, she does not know, even as it urges
her to continue.
“The two stand side by side, then a brief exchange reveals they are not strangers. They are former lovers.” A pause for dramatic
effect. “Will they spurn one another? Accuse one another? Fall into one another’s arms?”
Ada holds his steady gaze, heart thudding, uncertain what she awaits or if his response will lead to whatever it is.
“None of those things,” Vince replies slowly. “They will say no more, do no more, be no more except what they are: two who
were and are no longer.”
Countless people in this room, yet none.
The truth laid bare before them is all that exists.
Ada’s heart constricts. Maybe she hoped for an expression of his forgiveness, though she doesn’t truly need it because hers was the proper decision and remains so.
Still. Even proper decisions are not without pain.
Vince clears his throat, breaking the tense silence. “Such a film opening has been done before, I suppose.”
“I thought we were off to a decent start.”
The din surrounding them fails to prevent his words from echoing in her ears. Two who were and are no longer. No anger, no resentment, no bittersweet fondness, simply a fact. Perhaps the indifference of such an observation is what
prompts Ada to tighten her grip on her handbag.
There is no pain quite like indifference.
As the bartender approaches, she catches his attention. “Cognac for Mr. Hart, neat.”
“And a martini with a twist for Miss Worthington-Fox.” Then his voice softens. “You remembered.”
“So did you.”
“Two years or two hundred, I will never forget.”
A small sign of no ill will. Heat blossoms faintly against her cheeks. As the drinks appear, Ada finishes her cigarette and
Vince offers the glass to her—cold and clear with a bright strip of cheerful yellow lemon peel bobbing in its center.
“Enjoy your evening, Ada.”
She almost leans closer, anticipating the brush of his lips over her cheek. How easy it is to fall back into old habits. Now
that she has seen him after so much time apart, she will put this unusual bout of nerves to rest and focus on the reason she
ended things, and the purpose of this evening: her career.
“Ah, there are my stars!”
The booming voice belongs to a lanky man with a thin mustache and hints of gray in his light brown curls—the director, Abe Sternberg.
It is only then, as Mr. Sternberg kisses her cheek and shakes Vince’s hand, that she realizes she never considered why Vince is at this event.
A reason she now understands with full clarity. A knot of tension forms in her stomach.
The film. Her film. Her unannounced male costar.
She vaguely hears the confirmation as Mr. Sternberg mentions their roles, then she glances at Vince, his gaze infuriatingly
steady. Indifferent, even. If the revelation regarding her involvement surprises him, he does not show it.
Neither does she, instead offering a pleased smile. She will not reveal her true feelings, not after years of keeping her
sister’s secrets, of silently hating Mother’s dinner guests, of carrying out clandestine resistance work, of being Ada, of
acting. When her role is assigned, she plays it.
“I’m allowing the press ten minutes to take photographs to include with tomorrow’s casting news,” Mr. Sternberg says, taking
Ada’s arm and motioning for Vince to accompany them. “Mr. Hendrix will say a few words, then I’ll follow him, then you, Ada.
Vince, stand by, don’t react too much. Fans and press will be eager to see how you two get along, given your history, so don’t
give everything away.”
As she walks, Ada sips her martini, letting the cold gin mingle with the heat pulsing through her. A role that should win
her respect and credibility—if she plays it well—reduced to ridiculous former relationship drama. Headlines like those that
read “Silver Screen Siren Snags Hollywood’s Hartthrob” when she and Vince were first seen together—he a leading man who had
garnered various nominations and accolades, she new to Hollywood and fighting for her place.
But he is not the one speaking this evening; she is. She will not focus on him, on how the press will frame the narrative,
on anything other than her chance to address the public for the first time about a life-changing role.
As hotel staff members open the doors, the press floods inside, cameras and recorders at the ready.
While they assume their places, Mr. Hendrix steps to a small podium, calls the room to attention, and begins, discussing his company and its successes before introducing Mr. Sternberg.
Ada waits in her designated position near Vince.
He really does look every inch the leading man, with his single-breasted navy chalk stripe suit, chestnut hair, intense blue eyes, charismatic smile. Damn him.
Fortunately, she, too, looks like the leading woman, dressed in this spectacular emerald gown. Thank God for Gordon Sharpe.
After introducing the film and naming its stars, Mr. Sternberg steps aside, so Ada takes her cue. The moment she reaches the
microphone, the room erupts in flashing bulbs. Let them admire you, Gordon always advises, so she does. Gossip about her and Vince won’t detract from this film’s potential, nor can she allow
it to distract her.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Now, if you intend to ask me for confidential details about my role, I must kindly ask
you to refrain. I’d rather not lose my job before I start it.” She casts a slight smile at the director amid laughter rippling
over her audience. “While I can’t share much, I believe in this story both as an artist and as a woman, and I’d like to extend
my gratitude to Mr. Russell Hendrix, everyone at Hendrix Productions, and Mr. Abe Sternberg for choosing me to partake in
this spectacular film. I am utterly delighted to work with you alongside my costar, Vince Hart.”
Vince acknowledges the statement with a brief nod while the onlookers erupt. More flashing cameras as Ada thanks the crowd,
then she and Vince pose with Mr. Sternberg and Mr. Hendrix for photographs. After pictures and a few questions, hotel staff
usher the press from the room. As Ada watches them go, a glimpse of color catches her eye, so quick she can’t make it out.
Or perhaps she imagined the flash of red hair.
Hours later, as her chauffeur takes her home, Ada closes her eyes to fight the spinning in her head—a sensation she wishes was from too many drinks rather than seeing Vince Hart.
Theirs was a brief relationship prior to the release of Read the Fine Print, a role that first won her acclaim. The recognition prompted her to realize she wanted her career and any accolades she earned
to be hers alone. Not granted due to her association with Hollywood’s favorite actor.
With him starring opposite her in Lady Bella Donna, she will always wonder if the success she hopes to achieve will be due to her, him, or both.
Sighing, Ada rubs her eyes and settles into her seat. Vince can’t understand why she ended things so abruptly—partially because
she never explained her reasons, partially because he is not a woman in show business.
Even their first meeting in early 1944 was the result of her failure and his success—she finding her way to Ciro’s on Sunset
Boulevard after a horrendous audition for a minor part, he after booking the lead for that same project. The nightclub was
popular among celebrities. Maybe she would never be one of them, but at least she could socialize with them. As she sought
a place to sit, she considered a table or red silk sofa near the bandstand, then settled on the bar and nursed a martini.
“This would be quite the opening scene for a film, wouldn’t it?”
A young man with bright blue eyes appraised her the way an artist studies a painting, capturing her attention the same way
she had obviously captured his.