Page 33 of A Star is Scorned
Devlin scowled at his boss, clearly annoyed by Hays’s encouragement.
Livvy smiled, holding in a laugh. “Thank you, Mr. Hays.”
Devlin tried to save face, adding, “If you ask me, Hollywood could use a bit more Shakespeare. Now that’s art. Not the swashbuckling Banks does.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I think Flynn might surprise us all,” Livvy trilled. “Swashbuckling is harder than you think. I’m lucky Mr. Banks has been here to show me the ropes. I’ve had to learn an awful lot since coming to Hollywood—and he’s an expert at what he does.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Devlin demurred, at the same time that Hays muttered, “Often to his own detriment.”
A burst of pride bloomed in Flynn’s chest at Livvy’s defenseof his work. A few weeks ago, she’d claimed that she’d never seen one of his films. Now she was championing them to strangers. Perhaps it was for the sake of appearances, but the note of sincerity in her voice touched him.
Still, he didn’t need her to fight his battles. He could perform bloody Shakespeare too. “I’ll have you know, Devlin,” Flynn interjected, “that I played inHamletat university, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house when I did my Desdemona.”
“Mmm, yes, well, in that instance, I could probably understand Othello’s desire to strangle you,” Hays quipped.
Flynn and Livvy blinked in surprise, first at each other, then at Hays.
“Don’t look so surprised, I’m not a complete bore. I do have a sense of humor, you know.”
Flynn almost guffawed from sheer shock, but Livvy didn’t miss a beat. “Maybe remember that the next time you’re evaluating a film.”
Hays gaped at Livvy’s censure, but then he chuckled.
“That goes for you too, Mr. Devlin.”
Good old Uncle Stan turned beet red and looked as if he’d swallowed his necktie. Livvy stared him down, refusing to blink. Flynn was impressed. Hays and Devlin were intimidating, even to him. Particularly when this entire scheme rested on their believing it. But Livvy was easily using their fake romance to advocate for him. Whether or not he deserved it.
Hays clapped Flynn on the back—a friendly gesture that Flynn had never conceived the enforcer of the Production Code giving him. “I like her, Banks. She’s good for you.” Flynn happened to agree, but he wasn’t going to tell Hays that. Or Livvy, for that matter.
“Too good,” Livvy agreed. “But he has a nice face.”
At that, Flynn genuinely laughed. Who was this woman? She was prim and proper. A lady in every sense of the word. Her raven-black hair and Cupid’s bow mouth made her seem as fragile as a porcelain doll. In short, the antithesis of everything Flynn was drawn to in a woman. But she ripped the rug from beneath him so frequently, he supposed he should get used to standing on hardwood floor. Every answer she gave only led to more questions. He wanted to read anEncyclopedia of Olivia Blountand commit it to memory so he could understand every bit of her.
Rhonda looked as if she was going to blow her top at any minute. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her face was so scrunched up in frustration that she resembled a pug. She tapped her foot in irritation, and Flynn thought she might only be moments away from a full-on temper tantrum.
“Uncle Stan, I’m thirsty,” she whined. Jesus, how had Flynn been remotely attracted to her for even a second? She was a petulant child.
“Rhonda, you are perfectly capable of getting yourself a drink. I am not your babysitter.”
Flynn almost swallowed his tongue at Devlin’s retort, while Rhonda harrumphed and stomped off in the direction of the bar.
Devlin shot one last look of disdain at Flynn. “You’re on thin ice with me, Banks. Don’t you forget it.”
Before Flynn could reply, Devlin followed his niece to the bar, leaving Flynn and Livvy with Will Hays.
Flynn needed to try to clear the air. “Mr. Hays, whatever Mr. Devlin or Miss Powers told you—”
The president of the Motion Picture Association held up his hand, signaling Flynn to stop. “No need to explain, Banks. Clearly, Rhonda was confused. If I’ve heard Stanley say it once, I’ve heard it a million times. Besides the moral turpitude of themotion picture industry, his chief complaint in life is how much Rhonda’s mother coddles that girl. She never learned how to take no for answer. And now Rhonda expects Uncle Stan to be her champion.” Hays looked over his shoulder in their direction and sighed. “But I better go follow them all the same. Lovely to meet you, Miss De Lesseps.”
Flynn stared after them in disbelief. Had it really been that easy? If so, Harry was a genius. Rhonda had tried to ruin his life, to get Will Hays and the lackeys of the Production Code Administration to blow up his career. But her little ploy to humiliate Flynn in front of her Uncle Stan had blown up in her face.
Because Rhonda Powers hadn’t accounted for Liv de Lesseps. Hell, neither had he.
***
Flynn picked at the dry piece of chicken on his plate in dismay. He could count on one hand the number of decent meals he’d eaten at a Hollywood fundraiser. When events were responsible for feeding over one hundred people, the food was always bland and flavorless. It was yet another reason he found nights like this tiresome, preferring instead to spend them in the back room at Musso’s or watching the sunset from his house.
He cast his eyes at the program lying next to his fork. This fundraiser was interminable. Was this still the same piece the Philharmonic had been playing for the last fifteen minutes? “Variations for Orchestra” by Arnold Schoenberg? It was hard to tell, given the entire thing was a morass of chaotic noise. He’d enjoyed the Bach. He’d spent most of the Stravinsky staring at Livvy, enjoying the way the undulating line of her body, clad in her purple chiffon gown, practically shimmered with excitement.He’d sworn she’d been tapping her toes. At a classical piece!
