Page 17 of In a Far-Off Land
I swallowed. “You’re saying I never even had a chance.”
“Nope. None of you did. He just wanted it to look good, kitten.” He stubbed out his smoke and leaned over the table, taking a sip of my malt through the tall straw, keeping his eyes on me.
He was no shrinking violet, this one, and goodness knows I needed help. But could I trust him? “If you have all these connections, why aren’t you in films? You know you could be.”
“Not interested.” That’s the first I saw of Max’s closed look, the one he had when he didn’t want to talk about himself. I got used to it.
“What about your other clients?”
“Until you’re set, you’re my only client.” He tapped another cigarette out of the silver case. “That’s how I work.”
He handed me the cigarette. I sized him up as I leaned forward for a light. With those eyes and tempting curl, he wasn’t the kind of man I’d trust on a good day. But what else did I have going for me? If this fella really was on the up and up, maybe I could get away from the dance hall and everything that went with it.
He eyed me as if he’d read my mind. “How are you set?”
I shrugged. “I make do.” I didn’t say how.
He raised a brow. Maybe he’d noticed how fast I’d cleaned my plate. “I can get you on at the Brown Derby for now. Doesn’t pay much, but the tips will keep you in nail polish.”
My heart did a little jig. The Brown Derby would put me in front of all the right people and pay my bills. I didn’t have any other prospects knocking on my door. “Six months.”
Then he smiled. That was the first time I saw that real, knock-your-socks-off smile of his. It crinkled his eyes and turned his face from handsome to take-your-breath-away. I didn’t know then, but that smile would be my downfall. “I knew you were smart. But before we shake on it, I have a few rules.”
Was this the catch? “What kind of rules?”
“First rule. Keep your clothes on.”
I jerked up and a flutter of panic filled me. What did he know?
He held up a hand. “I get it. You’re not that kind of girl. But some girls, they get desperate. Nobody ever made it big by posing for nudies or hopping into bed with a producer. Got me?”
My pulse settled. I nodded.
He held up two slender fingers. “Second, keep a lid on the drinking, and stay away from the rough stuff.”
“The rough stuff?”
“Dope, cocaine, pills. They’re the beginning of the end. Believe me, I’ve seen it. Stick to champagne if you can get it. Go easy on whisky and gin. And no more than three drinks for a little thing like you. To make it big, you have to be smart. And anything after three drinks is stupid.”
Who did this mug think he was, honestly? I wasn’t a kid anymore. “Anything else?” My voice held a hint of sarcasm.
“Just one more,” he said, and his smile disappeared. “This is business, you and me. And I don’t mix business with pleasure.”
“You’ve got nerve,” I sputtered. I didn’t know if I was offended or relieved.
He held up his hands, all innocent. “Just being up front. I’m an easy man to fall for.” His mouth quirked and that little dimple in his cheek hinted he could be right. “Anyway, as gorgeous as you are, you aren’t my type.”
“Same back at you,” I said. But I had to appreciate his honesty.
He leaned back and tipped his head to the side, considering me. “If you sign on with me, you’ll work, Miss Minerva Sinclaire. You do what I say, twenty-five hours a day, eight days a week. Extra and bit parts are for chumps. That’s the way down, not up. We’re going to the top, the big boys.”
I didn’t have much else to lose, and everything to gain. I stuck out my hand.
His dark eyes met mine as we shook over the crumbs of my sandwich. “I won’t give up on you, Minerva Sinclaire. You can take that to the bank.”
He was on the level, just like he said. Max never did give up on me. Turns out, I’m the one who gave up on him.
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