Chapter 2 #2
“That’s all I need,” Monty said with a huff and pushed himself off the wall. “I’ll take care of myself, Campbell.” He stalked off before Cal could say another word.
Cal stood in the hallway for a long moment. He lifted the script in his hand and read the title: When I’m in Your Arms. Intrigued despite himself, he began to slowly walk down the hallway, flipping through the script as he went.
* * *
Hours later, Cal was in the backseat with Walt Kunitz who was, unfortunately, his least favorite person in the Publicity Department.
“Let’s see,” the man said, peering over a file on his lap. “We’re picking up Mr. Jessup Morgan, age twenty-six. He’s staying in the studio dormitory. No allergies that we are aware of. Magical talents: fancy feet.”
“I feel like these are things I could ask him at dinner,” Cal said. “You’re taking away my small talk.”
“Family still in Georgia. Morgan’s been in Hollywood for about a week. Screen test and measurements already complete.” Kunitz pulled a pencil out of his coat pocket and licked the tip. “Better make a note to get him his publicity shots soon.”
Cal gave up and stared out the window at the passing neon signs, attempting to tune the other man out.
Kunitz was very open about his magical abilities as he was quite proud of them.
His magic allowed him to twist words to fit any occasion.
He had made and unmade many stars in his career at Powell Productions.
He hadn’t made Cal a star though—that’d been Kay Powell herself.
She’d plucked him out of his job working as a soda jerk on Vine Street and dropped him right into fame.
Cal had always wondered if she’d chosen him for his face or because she’d seen him use his magic to calm down a teenager crying about her girlfriend breaking up with her.
Either way, that was about ten years ago, and here he was, ready to help another newcomer up the ladder. He rubbed his hands over his slacks. As much as he hated to admit it, Ezra had been right about one thing: giving him a very specific responsibility was a surefire way to distract him.
The car slowed as it approached the dormitory hall.
Powell Productions had always been passionate about taking on new talent.
From the beginning, they’d set up a large dormitory building across the street from the studio so that new cast and crew members could have a place to stay as they got settled into their new lives in Hollywood.
The rent was cheap and the dormitory monitors were notorious for looking the other way when the residents had nighttime visitors.
A lone man stood outside the front of the building. When he straightened at the sight of the approaching car and began brushing off the front of his coat, Cal suspected he was seeing his new co-star for the first time.
“That’s him,” Kunitz confirmed. “Glad to see he’s punctual.”
As soon as the car stopped, Cal stepped out to introduce himself. “Jessup Morgan, I presume?”
Morgan’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of him but he collected himself quickly and held out a hand. “Yes, sir. Most people call me Jesse.”
He spoke with a light Southern accent and Cal was instantly charmed by it. “No need to bother with the ‘sir.’ I’m Cal,” he said, shaking his hand.
Jesse huffed out a laugh in response.
The lamplight made it hard to fully see his face, but Cal thought the other man was attractive, if a little on the young side.
How old had Kunitz said he was? Twenty-six?
He wondered if Morgan had lied about his age; he wouldn’t be the first. But he could see why Ezra had signed the guy up so fast. With that face and that accent, he was sure to win the hearts of all sorts of audiences.
He was also at least half a foot shorter than Cal was.
He vaguely wondered what that would mean for their dancing, and then was promptly annoyed that he would think of such a thing.
He stepped to the side and gestured at the car.
“Shall we?”
“Thanks.” Morgan slipped past him and onto the seat.
Cal sat beside him and shut the door. Kunitz had already introduced himself and begun a monologue on proper behavior before the car had reached the city speed limit.
Cal quietly spooled out some magic to Morgan.
He knew how unsettling Kunitz could be in the best of circumstances, let alone after being recently hired.
“Smile at any reporters you see. A full smile, with your teeth. Try not to talk too much until we’ve gotten your accent down.”
“My accent?”
“Mm-hm,” Kunitz said, making another note on his file. “You’re from Georgia. We’d like to take advantage of that. Surprised you don’t have more of an accent though. Something we’ll have to fix, of course, but shouldn’t be any trouble.”
Morgan frowned and Cal felt a flare of kinship at the young man’s annoyance with Kunitz. “Why do I need an accent?”
“Because you’re a wide-eyed newcomer, it’s your first time in Hollywood, and you’re going to charm the whole town by being a sweet, naive, and eager young man from Georgia.”
“I’m not naive, sir.”
Kunitz licked his pencil and made a note. “The public doesn’t know that.”
Cal decided it was time to intervene. “It’s common practice for the Publicity Department to come up with personas for us to use when we’re in public,” he explained. “It’s all just part of the job, you see.”
“And what’s your persona?”
He grinned. “Dashing and urbane, a perfect gentleman.”
Morgan gave a small smile. “You’re telling me you’re not a gentleman then?”
“Not a perfect one, no,” Cal said with a laugh. “But you thought so, didn’t you? That’s because I play that role very well when I’m in public.”
“Yep,” Kunitz said. “Just take your cues from Campbell here, kid. You’ll be learning from the best. Let him do the talking if any reporters approach. You just do your best not to spill clam sauce on your new shirt, and if you’re going to dance, don’t show off too much.”
“Oh, so I can show off a little?”
Kunitz cut him a look. “A very little. We want to tease your talent to the public.”
Cal leaned closer. “I hate to break it to you, but I won’t be much help in the showing off department. I’m not much of a dancer.”
Morgan looked up at him in surprise. “I thought you were cast in the movie, too?”
“It was…unexpected.”
“Don’t worry if the table settings are fancier than you’re used to,” Kunitz said, sounding a little irritated that he kept getting interrupted. “It’ll be useful to your persona.”
“Naive,” Morgan mumbled.
“Exactly. If Campbell introduces you to someone, then you can talk to them. Otherwise—”
“Try to avoid talking. I get it.”
Kunitz frowned at him. “Yes.” He looked out the window. “We’re here.”
The Pink Peacock was a nightclub of middling size and impressive reputation.
The owner employed a French chef, a New Orleans band, and a bartender that he’d reportedly stolen from the Savoy.
The dance floor was polished, the velvet seat cushions were plush, the drinks were strong, and the line to get in was out the door.
Cal got out of the car first and offered his arm to his partner.
As he took it and stepped out of the car, Cal could see that the young man was blushing and Cal found himself charmed by the sight.
When Kunitz closed the door after them without getting out, Morgan smiled, looking less nervous.
Together, they strode past the line, as well as the small crowd of reporters who were waiting to catch glimpses of the nightclub’s more famous clientele.
Flashes went off when Cal and Morgan approached.
“Don’t be nervous,” Cal murmured as he pushed out more of his magic. “Just smile and nod. The mystery will add to your appeal.”
“With my teeth,” Morgan muttered back and turned on an impressive smile that lit up his whole face. Cal stared at him for a moment, somewhat dazzled, then led the way to the door.
The ma?tre d’ beamed as they entered and ushered them to a table.
It was, predictably, well placed to be highly visible.
As he watched his companion look around the room in unabashed awe, Cal continued to send a steady stream of his magic in the young man’s direction.
Dinner with a movie star at a fancy restaurant was enough to rattle anyone’s nerves and he wanted to be sure Morgan enjoyed himself.
“The usual for you, Monsieur Campbell?”
“Yes, Henri. And one for my friend here, as well.”
The man bowed and hurried away.
“What did you just order me?” Morgan asked in a low voice, his eyes taking in the decor with evident interest.
“Dry martini with a twist.”
“I don’t drink.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I should have asked. But you don’t have to. Just pretend. Most folks in Hollywood drink and the public has come to expect it of us.”
Morgan gave a small frown but didn’t object. When the two drinks appeared along with the menus, Morgan took a tentative sip, followed by a dramatic grimace.
Cal laughed and opened his menu. “Order anything you like.”
Morgan followed suit and his eyes widened. “Anything?”
“It’s your first night on the town in Hollywood. My treat.”