Chapter 10 Ada #3
“A young lady alone at a nightclub, where a jazz band entertains the patrons. She is quiet. Pensive. Sipping a martini with a twist—a strong, elegant drink, indicating she must be a strong, elegant woman. As the camera focuses on her face, casting her features in light and shadow, the audience notices the lack of spark in her eyes.” He looked from the glass to her.
“Hers is not a celebratory drink, but a despondent one.”
“And as your muse, I expect to be cast as the lead once you sell that script. It’s about time I booked something worthwhile.”
“Ah, a correction: Our heroine is British, alone in a foreign country . . . If I sell such a script someday, you’ll be my
first call—although currently my work is in front of the camera rather than behind it.”
“You should write. You clearly have the interest, and from what little I heard, you seem to have the skill.”
“Someday, maybe.”
Whatever his reasons for hesitating, he did not elaborate, although Ada detected a slight waver to his confident air. A feeling
she recognized; growing up, she had played the piano and performed in a few plays, but not with the same confidence she had
when dancing. Now she was focused primarily on acting, which had forced her to work through such insecurities—even though
failed audition after failed audition left her wondering if she really did have a future in this business.
The actor’s momentary hesitation vanished as he sat beside her. “Did you come from an audition?”
“A dreadful one, and thus I’m drowning my sorrows.” Never mind that just yesterday Ada had begged her landlady for an extension
on her overdue rent, so this frivolous spending was hardly wise. “I heard Vince Hart was asked to lead the same project.”
She met his vibrant, blue-eyed gaze. “Do you know him?”
“Not as well as I’d like to get to know you.” He lifted a hand to the bartender while warmth rose unbidden to Ada’s neck.
“Another for the lady, my good man.”
“And the usual for Mr. Hart,” she added.
Perhaps Ada had not been in California long, but the moment he joined her, she knew this man was Hollywood’s Hartthrob, as the gossip rags dubbed him.
Vince Hart was in countless popular pictures, his face on every magazine, his dashing good looks the talk of every aspiring actress.
When a sly grin turned her companion’s lips, she rolled her eyes.
“Oh, don’t look so pleased. Lucky guess.”
“No doubt you recognized me by my dazzling charm rather than my face splashed across the tabloids.” He offered her a hand.
“And you are?”
“You’ll find out soon enough. Once I manage to get my face splashed across the tabloids.”
A day that would come sooner rather than later, Ada hoped. After numerous small parts granting her a single line of dialogue
if she were lucky, she had recently wrapped a role for an upcoming film, a minor speaking part in which her character seduced
the lead as part of a larger ploy. Those on set had been impressed with her performance, so perhaps the public would be too.
As the bartender brought their drinks, Ada lifted her glass. “Well, thank you for the consolation prize, and congratulations
on your upcoming lead.”
He nodded in acceptance of the compliment. The sourness that rose to her mouth was not jealousy, only bitter resentment at
how much easier this life was for him than it would ever be for her.
No use sulking, though. Today was not her first failed audition, nor would it be her last. Such was the business.
Vince took a thoughtful sip of cognac, his eyes never leaving her. “Have you been to the Cocoanut Grove? It’s a nightclub
inside the Ambassador Hotel on Wilshire Boulevard. Will you meet me there tomorrow night?”
“Perhaps, if I have time. I’ve still got to find work, you know.” Ada offered him a coy smile. “Glad to hear I’ve made an
impression.”
Flattering though it was to have a famed actor’s attention, tomorrow was a new day. If an unexpected audition came along, she needed to be available and prepared, not distracted by a handsome man—even if that man was Vince Hart. If she found her schedule open, well, that was another matter.
“Your face will be in the papers,” came a sudden remark, so quiet Ada almost didn’t hear. “Of that I have no doubt.”
Not advice from an established success to a newcomer, not an arrogant proclamation, simply encouragement from one artist to
another. Not much, yet just enough.
Still, the question of success plagued her, filling her mind with every critique she had placed upon herself from her childhood
ballet performances to today’s audition. To the casting director’s declaration that she was entirely wrong for this part.
“Everyone in Hollywood wants to succeed. What makes you so certain I will?”
“Because, at the risk of sounding cliché . . .” He looked her up and down, as if confirming his opinion and bringing heat
to her cheeks. “You understand that believing in your ability is only the start. This job will decimate you time and time
again. But those rare occasions when it doesn’t? Those make it worth it. So you’re willing to fight for what you want, even
when everything else has gone wrong.”
“Well, Mr. Hart, that’s rather bold of you to assume everything has gone wrong.” She looked him over in return, a slight smile curving her lips. “One thing today went right.”
His clear blue eyes held hers as she left him with his half-finished drink. Perhaps she would stop by the Cocoanut Grove tomorrow,
perhaps not. For now, she would allow Vince—and herself—to wonder.