Page 80 of His Girl Hollywood

Joan lifted her hands in agreement and retorted, “I told you that Arlene was the real deal, Harry.”

Arlene blushed, and Joan winked at her before nodding her head in Don’s direction. Arlene looked down and was touched to find Don staring up at her adoringly. “I’m so glad someone else knows what a wonder you are,” he whispered.

This time, she knew it wasn’t the champagne that sent warmth flickering from her toes to the top of her head. Harry still had his back to them, and his focused movements elicited the sound of ice clinking in glasses. While Harry wasn’t looking, she bent over and kissed Don on the cheek. “I love you,” she whispered in his ear. He preened at the words, and she quickly resumed her more casual pose on the arm of the chair, just as Harry turned back around and passed a glass of Scotch on the rocks to her. She swallowed it in one gulp, and Harry raised his eyebrows.

“It was a rough morning.” She shrugged. Harry chuckled, and Arlene swore he murmured something that sounded like “A helluva woman” under his breath.

At last, the adrenaline that had been coursing through Arlene since the gun had gone off in the middle of the soundstage began to dissipate. Each sip of the drink blunted the effect of the gunshot until her heart rate finally started to slow. It was then that she began to process that their plot had worked. They’d trapped Frankie Martino, getting him to inadvertently confess to his crimes while he was on camera. She and Don had lived to tell the tale. With Don, she’d been nothing but the portrait of confidence, aware that was what he needed to make sure he put on a good show. But privately, she’d feared how easily this could all go wrong. Men like Frankie Martino tended to have itchy trigger fingers. She’d been right. All that stood between her and a life without Don was a silly little penny.

In the moment between when she’d heard the gun go off and when Don had pushed her to the floor, her heart had leapt into her throat. She’d thought of her mother, how heartbroken she would be if Arlene didn’t come home. She’d thought of the film and how terribly she wanted to finish it. Above all, she’d thought of Don—of the fragile happiness they’d found together and how brief that slice of bliss had been. She wanted more time with him. Thank God she’d been granted it. That was why she’d kissed him as if no one was watching. She’d be damned if she’d apologize for it. Maybe it was the effect of the liquid courage, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel sorry for kissing the man she loved.

Harry interrupted her thoughts. “More?”

The Scotch had finally turned off the film projector in her head, the one that had replayed the moment when the gun went off and the moment Harry interrupted their clinch in her mind over and over. “No, I’m all right. Thanks.”

The phone on Harry’s desk rang, and he picked it up. “’Scuse me, folks,” he told the room. “Yes, Ida, yes, what is it? Oh? Oh right. Well, patch him through.” Harry sat silently, while he waited for his secretary to connect the line. “Well, hello there. That so? That good, huh?” He chortled at something the caller said on the other end of the line. “Well, I don’t know, that’s up to her. I’ll pass along the message, yes. But I warn you. I’m not giving up without a fight.”

Harry returned the phone to its receiver, then smiled and leaned back in his chair, swiveling the glass in his hand like it was a coin and he was practicing a magic trick. He smiled as if he knew a secret that brought him intense delight. The look on his face sucked all the air out of the room while they waited to hear what the call had been about. What wouldn’t he give up without a fight? Had something gone wrong with Frankie and the arrest?

But Harry didn’t say. Instead, he looked at Arlene. “While we’reon the subject of contracts, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about, Miss Morgan.”

This was it. He was going to take the picture away from her because she was involved with her leading man. She gritted her teeth and prepared to face it. Not like a man, with bluster and fury. But like a woman, with dignity and grace. “Arlene,” she corrected Harry, a bit more firmly than she intended. “Please.” If he was going to dismiss her, he was going to treat her like any other director. She wanted at least that much from him.

Arlene nervously glanced toward Joan, who was looking at her with enormous pride. Joan winked at her, and it made her sick. Joan had fought for her, but it hadn’t been enough. Arlene turned back to meet Harry’s eyes and take it on the chin. Harry gestured his glass in her direction. “Arlene then. I knew you were a talented woman, but you were a force of nature behind that camera today. I could see you in action behind the facade from my perch on the catwalk.”

Arlene scarcely remembered what had happened behind the camera this morning. When she was directing and completely focused, she entered a near-meditative state. She’d been so worried about getting this right that she’d insisted on operating the camera herself. Her eye to the lens finder, she’d lined up the shot through the glass pane of the door and positioned it just so, ensuring it was trained on Frankie Martino at all times, tracking his every move. She took care that she didn’t flinch and risk missing a second of his confession. She couldn’t leave an inch for Frankie to exploit in the courtroom. But in all the confusion of the arrest and the gun, she’d not had a chance to find out if she’d done enough. If her efforts had come off.

“It wasn’t only the focus and dedication I could see from my place in the shadows,” Harry continued. “I gave the detective the film canister of what you shot today to take back with him as evidence. That was him on the phone just now. He called to tell methat his superiors are certain the negative will make it an open-and-shut case.”

Arlene let go of a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding, and something loosened between her shoulder blades. Thank God. This was truly done then. She and, more importantly, Don could move on.

“As a matter of fact, Detective Briggs was so impressed by the work of the ‘lady director,’ as he put it, that he wondered if you might be interested in coming to work for the force.”

Arlene’s heart sank at the words. Was Harry pawning her off to the police? Instead of dealing with the scandal of a female director dating her leading man, he could send her away. The detective had presented Harry Evets with a simple solution—to resign his unruly lady with a camera to a life on the force. Arlene was happy to have done her part today to catch a dangerous man. But that wasn’t her dream. Making movies, being a part of a team at the studio. That was what she’d been chasing. It was what she thought she’d finally achieved. “That’s very nice of him,” she mumbled, trying to be polite as her mother had always taught her.

“It is, isn’t it?” Harry mused. “He was ready to make quite a generous offer for your talents too.”

“Oh,” Arlene replied. She didn’t know what else to say.

“But if you’re interested, I’d like to tell him that you’ll be much too busy making movies for Evets Studios.”

“I’m sure I would be very happy… Wait, what?” Arlene couldn’t believe her ears. Had Harry Evets offered her a permanent post as a director? Even after he’d seen her in a clinch with Don?

“I was thinking we could put you on a long-term contract starting Monday. I’d like to tell the detective that I’ll outbid him no matter what price he offers.”

Arlene looked at Joan, whose hand was resting absently onDash’s knee. They both grinned at her. Joan had tears in her eyes. Arlene had done it. She’d really done it.

“I–I don’t know what to say.”

“Say ‘Thank you, Harry, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.’”

A laugh burst from her, and she repeated the words back to him.

“It’s my pleasure.” He chuckled. “Joan has been telling me for months I’d be a fool not to sign you on the spot. I have to be honest, after seeing the rushes these last few weeks, she’s right. Hell, you’ll probably have a brother for that Oscar on your desk before long.”

Arlene’s heart was in her throat. She could barely process the last several minutes. This morning she’d been hoping she could do enough to save Don, to make sure he wasn’t the property of Frankie Martino for the rest of his life. Now, they both were about to become full-time, permanent employees of Evets Studios. Doing the things that they’d always dreamed of. Together.

Don lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. It sent a shiver of delight coursing through her. But then, she realized something. She didn’t want this without Don. Harry hadn’t mentioned the kiss. Maybe he was being polite, hoping it would go away if he ignored it, chalking it up to a woman being grateful for her life.

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