Chapter 4
Hilliard
Driving onto the studio lot should have long since become a monotonous task.
Hilliard had been doing it for so many years now that there was a deep familiarity in the routine.
He wasn’t so important as to have his own designated parking space, but it didn’t really matter to him.
There was joy in simply knowing that he was doing well enough to still have a career that he loved.
As he put his Cadillac in park, the magic in his heart twinged. Now it was time to make sure his dearest friend still had one, too.
He scooped Henrietta up under one arm and carried her to the sidewalk to protect her paws from the hot asphalt.
She trotted next to him as he went inside, as confident about her surroundings as any other star at Powell.
When people greeted them, it was always, “Good morning, Henrietta. Good morning, Mr. Burke.” The way her ears pricked up at her name each time someone said it always made Hilliard smile.
Miss Prescott, Ezra’s sweet-as-pie secretary, turned in her chair as soon as they came around the corner.
“Good morning, Henrietta!” she squeaked, patting her legs in encouragement. The bouncy terrier obliged, hopping up onto her lap with ease and licking away at one rouged cheek. “Mx. Allen is ready for you, Mr. Burke,” she added with a giggle.
On the other side of the door, Ezra was indeed ready for something. If the fretful expression on their face was any indication, perhaps a long vacation. The desk was littered with local newspapers and popular magazines. A mess of that morning’s tabloids, no doubt.
“A little light reading?” Hilliard asked as he took a seat in one of the chairs opposite, crossing one knee neatly over the other. A brown and orange argyle sock peeked out from the rise of his trouser leg.
“You know something, Hilliard,” they said, eyes still slowly scanning the headlines on the folded paper in their hand.
“I was fourteen years old when I swore to my mother I was never having children.” They slapped the paper down on their desk.
“I owe her an apology for such a tremendous lie. I’ve got dozens of you.
And you’re all just as horrible now as I thought you would be thirty-odd years ago. ”
“Come now, Ezra,” Hilliard soothed. “We’re not all so bad, are we?”
Ezra glared at him.
“Besides, reporters are always saying whatever it takes to make the front page. I don’t know how anyone can stand to read those fabrications over their cup of joe.”
Hilliard made a point of never looking at them himself and he was far happier for it.
He much preferred to entertain himself with educational materials.
Why, just that morning he’d read a thrilling article about thrifty recipes for the new, faster-setting Jell-O powder, including something called “peach delight” that sounded absolutely divine.
“It’s the truth in them that I have to worry about.” Ezra tossed the paper they’d been holding so that it landed where Hilliard could read it.
His heart sank as he glanced at the headlines, looking away when he came across Monty’s name in bold near the top. After going to rescue him the night before, he could all but guarantee that his own name was somewhere on the page in smaller print, too.
“He’s hurt about the musical,” Hilliard put it plainly.
“I know. He was in here shouting at me about it yesterday.”
That image made Hilliard’s chest squeeze with sympathy.
“It’s not my place to question your decisions. But why did you pull him? I think any man would be disappointed in these circumstances.”
“Sometimes the actions of others make decisions for me,” Ezra said, leaning back in their chair with a slight frown.
Popularity was often synonymous with scandal in this town.
Hilliard was afraid to know what sort of behavior Ezra had seen from Monty while they’d been on tour to bring them to such a conclusion.
“Why let him pick up a new talent, then?”
“The studio is always looking for new talent. I saw the boy dancing that night just the same as Monty did. But who do you think a person is more willing to quit their life and move across the country for? Me,”–Ezra gestured at their person in a sweeping motion from shoulder to hip–“or a dreamboat like Montgomery Kincaid?”
A veil of realization fluttered its way across Hilliard’s thoughts.
“You used him.”
“It’s not so simple as that,” Ezra rebuffed. “But you know as well as I do that Monty wouldn’t have been half as interested in the task if he thought there wasn’t a prize to be won at the end. A cat doesn’t chase after mice for fun.”
“So he never had this musical at all?” Hilliard felt himself getting defensive. He forced his tight fist open on his thigh, smoothing it down to grip his knee instead.
“No, he did. But he charmed his way right out of it. Last night’s antics have only solidified my resolve.
I sent Campbell there with the kid to start some positive buzz and I got another PR nightmare instead.
At this rate, I’ll have to send my stars all the way to fucking Culver City or someplace because I’ve run out of fine establishments willing to take you around here. ”
Hilliard sighed out in defeat. “But he’s only acting this way because he’s upset.” Monty liked to indulge as much as the next person, but he was no boozer.
Ezra leveled a look at him. “Tell that to the finance department. After they got the bill for this last tour, they asked if I’d paid the drink tab for the whole joint every night.
” Ezra removed their eyeglasses and began cleaning them with the corner of a small cloth.
“He’s not upholding the image we’re trying to create here.
I’m not saying he has to be perfect. We all have our vices.
But if he doesn’t straighten out by the premiere of this next picture, there’s a serious chance this is the first and last contract he’ll get with Powell Productions. ”
“Ezra–”
“I’m sorry. That’s not my decision.”
The finality of the producer’s words settled like a shipwreck: down, down, down with no hope of recovery.
“I’m not telling you this to make him your responsibility,” Ezra went on as they set their eyeglasses back on their nose. “But I know how you care for him. Too much for your own good, if you ask me,” they added in a sharpened tone. “I just thought one of you should hear it before it’s too late.”
“I understand,” Hilliard said quietly. “I appreciate it.”
“Was there anything else?” Ezra was suddenly busy with stacking the papers strewn across the desk.
Hilliard shook his head and stood from the chair, feeling very much like he’d just been admonished himself.
“Very good. I’ll see you on set next week.”
Hilliard collected Henrietta on his way out of the office.
By the time they made it back outside, he’d thought up a plan.
He would invite Monty over for a nice, comforting dinner that evening, and they could discuss what he’d just been told in gentler terms than what Ezra could ever deliver.
Once Monty realized how serious this was, they could put all of that to rest and start reading over the script together.
He turned his wrist up to check his watch. There was just enough time to swing by his favorite grocery store and have the peach delight set in time for dessert.