Page 44 of A Star is Scorned
Both couples exchanged meaningful looks with each other.
“What?” Flynn asked. He’d about had it with them.
“Nothing,” they answered in unison.
“It’s not nothing; you’re all eyeing each other like owls, so what is it?”
Arlene and Joan looked at each other and sighed heavily. “Well, it’s just…you’re not jealous.”
“Isn’t that what I just said?”
“No, it’s much worse than that,” Joan added. “You’re in love.”
Of all the ridiculous things he’d ever been accused of in his life, this took the cake. “Me? In love? Rubbish. I’d expect this from Arlene, but from you? Joan Davis? You who once swore you didn’t believe in love? Maybe you’ve been sampling your own punch too much. Dash, tell them, it’s absurd. Flynn Banks in love—what a preposterous suggestion.”
Dash merely stared at him, a look of pity on his face.
“Oh, not you too!”
“I would’ve said it was impossible,” Dash admitted.
“It is!”
“But Flynn, have you ever brought a girl to El Cholo before?”
He had to admit that Dash had him there. He took girls to the Trocadero, the Brown Derby, the Cocoanut Grove, or back here to his house. The one place he did not bring them was El Cholo. Because El Cholo was about good food and drink and nothing else. He didn’t want it tainted with the memory of some blowsy aspiring starlet. Most of all, he didn’t want to sneak out through the El Cholo kitchen to escape a scorned woman. “No, but that’s different. Livvy isn’t a girl.”
“She looks an awful lot like a girl to me,” murmured Arlene.
“That’s not what I mean! It wasn’t like that. We were tired of the dog-and-pony show at the symphony benefit, and she’d never had Mexican food, and I wanted to show her a real piece of Los Angeles. I wouldn’t take a girl there. But Livvy, she’s not just some dame I’m making whoopee with. She’s, she’s…” He hunted for the right word to describe her. What was Livvy? A costar? That was too anodyne a description. A friend? That was far too familiar, was it not? As he racked his brain, hunting for the perfect word to describe her, his four friends crossed their arms and shook their heads, clearly judging him.
“Ohhh, you’ve got it bad, buster,” Don said, chuckling.
“You’re all off your nut,” Flynn growled. He snatched the gloved hook that he’d left on the tiled kitchen counter and turned to go. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to put on my wig.”
Chapter 15
When the studio car dropped Livvy off at Flynn’s Malibu mansion, she could hardly believe her eyes. The entire stone driveway was lined with glowing jack-o’-lanterns, and a flurry of construction paper bats were taped to the stucco wall of the house. The jack-o’-lanterns continued around the perimeter of the property, and she had no doubt that if she followed them, they would lead all the way to the beach. She suddenly felt very small and out of place in her green Peter Pan costume, the gravel of the driveway pressing through her elfin shoes.
“‘Second star to the right and straight on till morning’,” she muttered, taking a breath and squaring her shoulders.
She passed through the arched doorway lined with colorful tiles and approached Flynn’s oak front door, which stood open. A breeze blew in from the water, and she hugged her thin little cardigan more tightly around her as she scurried inside.
“May I take your coat—er, sweater?”
Livvy was shocked to find award-winning screenwriter Arlene Morgan, dressed as a rather fetching witch, working the unofficial coat check. “Miss Morgan?”
“Technically, it’s Lamont now. But on scripts, it’s still Morgan.”
That was right. Livvy remembered now. Arlene Morgan had married rising star Don Lamont earlier this year in a quietceremony in her parents’ backyard. She’d read about it in one of Judy’s copies ofSilver Screen Secrets.
“Oh, I just wanted to say how much I admire your work,” Livvy stammered, so nervous she could barely get the words out. “I love to read, and your script forReno Rendezvousmade me realize that movies are just as much a storytelling art form as novels.”
Arlene darted her head around, making a show of looking for onlookers. “Don’t say that too loud in here, the house that piracy built.” Livvy laughed. It should come as no surprise that Arlene Morgan was a quick wit, but it caught Livvy off guard all the same. “Besides, aren’t you starring in a swashbuckler right now?”
Livvy blushed. “Yes, it’s my first picture. I’m Liv de Lesseps, but you probably already know that.”
“Well, let me tell you a secret, Miss De Lesseps. Swashbucklers are my favorite!”
