Page 17 of His Girl Hollywood

“I think he’s handsome too,” Ida replied.

Arlene couldn’t help herself. She giggled. “Oh God, Ida, nothing like that. I need to talk to him. Help him get his head on straight so we don’t repeat today’s mistakes tomorrow.”

“Well, pity’s yours, ’cause he’s a hunk. Give me a second. I’m looking it up.” She could hear Ida paging through the files on her desk. “Here it is—he’s at a hotel on Hollywood and Vine, the Hollywood Starlight Inn.”

“The Starlight? That thing’s a dump. Why would the studio put him there?”

She heard Ida continue to rustle around in the stacks of paper on her desk. “Hmm, his contract says that we offered to put him up at the Chateau, but that he asked to handle lodging himself in exchange for the difference in his weekly pay.”

That didn’t make sense. Don had toured Europe. He’d met the King of England after a command performance. Or so the clippings tacked to her mother’s fridge had informed her. He was used to staying at places like the Ritz and the Savoy, not a seedy hotel that probably boasted more cockroaches than clientele on any given day.

“Okay, thanks, Ida.” Arlene hung up and waved goodbye to the waiter, fixing her hat to her head. The sun was starting to set as she climbed behind the wheel of her car and turned left on Wilshire.

She thought she’d made herself clear to Don last night. That this movie wasn’t about some touching reunion between old friends. It wasn’t even about fulfilling their childhood dream of making their art together. It was about taking this opportunity and knocking it out of the park. So that she could do it again. And then again. They were now a day behind schedule, thanks to Don. He had some starry-eyed idea that this would be a passion project for them, a way to show off his moves to a broader audience and hightail it back to New York if it didn’t work out.

But there was no plan B for her. This was it. Her one chance to get it right. And he needed to know that—to understand that after today, there was no margin of error. If it meant she had to corner him at his hotel and lay it out for him, then that’s what she was going to do. She didn’t want to yell at him on set. A power battle like the one they’d had today would only make things worse. So, she needed to see him tonight. Put her cards on the table. This wasn’t some fly-by-night production where he could do whatever he wanted. He’d said he wanted to get this right, that it was important to him. He needed to prove it then.

Before long, she’d made the few miles’ journey from the Horseshoe Tavern to the Starlight Inn. It was even worse than she’d remembered, missing three letters from the sign out front that now readSarlit Inn. She searched for a place to park along Vine since there was no sign that a valet had ever existed at this SRO.

As she backed into a spot under a palm tree, she saw an unmistakable shock of platinum hair. Arlene craned her neck and looked again as the woman glanced over her shoulder before opening the front door to the hotel. She’d only seen thewoman’s face in grainy black-and-white newsprint. But the red-lipped pout and peroxide hair of Eleanor Lester was instantly recognizable.

No wonder Don was a mess. He’d brought his girlfriend with him and was entertaining her on the side. He was already asking about Eddie Rosso. Hell, the next thing she knew, he’d be asking to replace Rita Carter with Eleanor. Maybe he’d stepped on her foot on purpose. Rita had been the only one on her team today. Even if the woman had to dance on one leg, Arlene wasn’t replacing her.

She rolled her eyes. Of course, this whole thing, this threat to her career, was because Don had his mind on a dame. The Don she’d known would have never let a girl stand in the way of his career. He’d given Arlene up, hadn’t he? Tossed her and their years of friendship aside the moment he’d arrived in New York. But Eleanor Lester clearly had something that she, and the entire Morgan family, did not. The way she swung her hips as she entered the hotel told Arlene just what that something was.

She couldn’t decide if she was more disgusted or disappointed. Either way, she wasn’t going in there tonight. The last thing she needed to end this terrible day was to interrupt some clinch between Eleanor and Don. Don claimed he wanted this picture to be a success, but did he really? Because if he did, he’d be running lines and rehearsing his steps right now. Not making whoopee.

It hit her then that her plan was pointless. Telling him what this meant to her, laying out what was on the line—what good would that do? He didn’t care about anyone but himself. And maybe Eleanor Lester. Why had she ever thought otherwise? He’d left on a train and never looked back. If that wasn’t selfish, she didn’t know what was.

Arlene sighed, knowing that this picture was going to be even more challenging than she’d expected, and put the car in drive. She pulled back out onto Vine, heading back to her little bungalow and bracing herself for a night of fitful sleep.

Chapter 8

Don should’ve gone straight from the studio to the cruddy little hotel. Practiced some steps with Eddie and gone off to bed. But he’d been feeling sorry for himself, and the Frolic Room was around the corner, so he’d sat in there instead, nursing a beer for several hours and avoiding dirty looks from the bartender. He could only afford one drink, so he’d needed to make it last. It was past midnight now that he was finally making his way back to his room, where he was certain he’d lie under the moth-eaten comforter and struggle to sleep.

He usually fumbled with the key to his hotel room. He was pretty sure the last person to rent it had gotten something stuck in the keyhole because he had to jiggle it just right to get the doorknob to turn. So, he was immediately suspicious to find that the doorknob rotated easily in his hand. It was as if it wasn’t locked at all. But he was positive he’d shut it up tight this morning before taking the jalopy he and Eddie were sharing to the studio.

The room was dark. He slid through the door, careful to let the smallest sliver of the hall light into the space, and he reached for the lamp he knew was on the small desk to the right of the door. He strained his ears and heard something in the bathroom. The sound of the toilet flushing and running water. That wasn’t a rat. Though he wouldn’t have been surprised at this place. There was someoneelse here. He crept along the perimeter of the room and stood waiting next to the bathroom door, raising the lamp he’d grabbed above his head, ready to pounce on the intruder. Shit, he’d been here all of three days. Was Frankie already getting wise to his plans and sending thugs after him?

The door swung open and the intruder was backlit. As Don was about to bring the lamp crashing down on the shadowy figure’s head, she let out a bloodcurdling scream and stepped backwards. He dropped the lamp and stumbled, the force of the blow he had failed to land pulling his weight forward. The intruder was now fully illuminated, the harsh light of the bathroom casting her in a greenish-yellow pallor. But Don knew that platinum hair and its distinctive curl anywhere.

“Eleanor, what the hell are you doing here?” He had a sinking feeling he knew the answer. Frankie hadn’t bothered to send one of his boys. He’d sent Eleanor instead. How very typical of the mobster turned manager.

She reached for the sink, leaning against it to steady herself. “Why were you trying to kill me with a lamp?”

“I don’t usually expect to encounter uninvited guests in my bedroom.”

“Aw, lighten up, Donnie. Sometimes uninvited guests in your bedroom are the most fun.” She smirked. The sass and bravado of her Jersey accent filtered back into her voice, which had gone raspy with her scream of fear.

“Not when they’re burglarizing my room.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and harrumphed. “Can’t a girl visit her dance partner without being accused of petty theft?”

“I hardly think breaking and entering qualifies as merely petty.”

“With you, it’s always petty.”

He barked out a laugh at that one. “You’re right. I deservedthat. But what the hell are you doing in my hotel room after midnight?”

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