‘I’m a married man.’
‘But you were on that boat with her for, what, a couple months? Your wife didn’t mind that?’
‘That’s different. That was a business opportunity.’
‘Business.’ She slipped her fingertip briefly into her mouth. Siegel tugged on the collar of his shirt. I was confident the two gestures were unrelated.
‘Yeah, business. Sharks. We were after sharks. For their livers. Because shark liver is a rich source of Vitamin A. Which is, as you know, hard to come by right now.’ For some reason, Siegel addressed this explanation to me. I nodded politely.
He decided to seize the conversational wheel. ‘How do you know the Countess, exactly?’
‘Me? Oh, I don’t.’ Virginia smiled. ‘Just what I read in the papers. She seems like an interesting gal, one I wanted to meet, so I invited myself. Walked right in. Who’s going to say no to a dress like this?’ She pivoted her hips around that unmoving leg. Siegel licked his lips. Apparently, he wasn’t about to say no.
Virginia drained her glass. ‘Come on, Lillian, let’s go get a refill. See if the Countess has scared up these layabout limey houseguests of hers.’
Siegel stepped forward. ‘Lillian and I aren’t done talking.’
‘Yes, you are, Ben. Your gypsy blood is tired. Let it rest.’ Virginia laced her arm through mine and guided me toward the house. I polished off my stinger before we reached the French doors.
‘You all right, kid?’ she asked. ‘You look a touch peaked.’
‘What do you mean, kid? Aren’t we about the same age?’
‘Not even close. I’m way older.’ She patted my arm. ‘I died a million deaths before I reached eighteen.’
For some reason, I believed her. ‘Thank you for coming along when you did.’
‘Ben wouldn’t have done anything to you. Not out there. The location’s all wrong. Ben likes a certain mood, wants his lighting just so. He thinks he’s in a movie every second of the day. Unlike me. I at least know when I’m off camera.’ She smiled, whether at someone across the room or at the absurdity of the situation, I couldn’t say. ‘It takes a talent to live at night. I hate to say this, kid, but I don’t think you have it. Sylvia thought she did, and that’s worse. Her dalliance with Ben was just a fling to him. It wasn’t to her. Ben doesn’t understand that. He never will.’
The orchestra had packed the dance floor. Addison was talking to a stodgy twosome I took to be the Duke and Duchess of Sutherland. I turned to alert Virginia, but she had slipped away, leaving only my empty glass and a trace of perfume behind.
George Raft approached, a sheepish expression in his eyes. ‘Hello again, miss. I wanted to apologize. My friend Ben, well … he can be headstrong.’
‘That’s one word for it.’
The actor offered me a cigarette, which I declined. He ignited one of his own with a gold lighter. From the way he turned it in his hand, I expected him to flip it like the coin he used so memorably in Scarface.
‘Sentimental about this,’ Raft said, holding the lighter aloft. It bore an inscription I couldn’t read. ‘A gift from King Edward, back when he was just a prince. Before all the business with that woman. Taught him how to do the Charleston, if you can imagine that.’
‘I can. Didn’t you promise me another dance?’
He smiled. ‘It would be my pleasure. Would now be all right?’ He took my arm and led me out onto the floor. He was so nimble I almost didn’t notice how sick I felt.
Los Angeles Register April 1, 1939
LORNA WHITCOMB’S
EYES ON HOLLYWOOD
At least one Hollywood denizen can’t wait for next Monday because it means the mothballing of that ten-foot-tall Easter bunny on Wilshire Boulevard. He says the buck-toothed behemoth provokes heart palpitations every time he turns the corner … What a brilliant bash at Countess Dorothy di Frasso’s home last night. There was champagne, dancing and many beautiful ladies flaunting their finery. The only gloom cast on the glamorous proceedings was when a guest asked the Countess about her upcoming European trip. Stalwart Dottie laughed off concerns about the voyage, but later confided she’s crossing fingers she won’t be caught in a war zone … Strife abroad and strikes at home? That’s the word being whispered on studio lots. Those extra players haven’t backed down from their talk of giving SAG the boot and forming their own union.
TWENTY-THREE
I approached my closet with an unusual sense of calm. After the previous night’s excesses, I could keep things simple. Dungarees being too informal, I went with a white blouse, tan skirt, and red scarf. Addison wanted to compare notes on the Countess’s fête while strategizing for his next party. I was happy to devote Saturday morning to the campaign before visiting Edith.
Addison greeted me at the door looking flustered. He stepped outside so we could speak in private, even though whoever might overhear us was several rooms away. ‘I’m afraid I made a bit of a faux pas,’ he said, whispering into the bargain. ‘I forgot about my acting lesson! Joan arrived promptly on time. Would you mind waiting?’
I said not at all and he escorted me to the library so I could say hello. Joan Crawford had come garbed for her taskmaster role. Her navy twill dress had a militaristic air, fashioned like a frock coat with three gold buttons on the wide waistband.
‘Lillian!’ Again she charged toward me with hands outstretched, like I was a legionnaire come to liberate her. ‘Addison tells me you wore a Greer last night! Isn’t Howard’s salon magnificent? You must try the Vibrant Room. It’s what Howard calls the space for us redheads. Every wall painted the most bold, electric blue! I never feel more beautiful or more alive than when I’m in that room. I’m telling you, it’s worth dyeing your hair for. Now, Addison. Did you practice your vocal exercises?’
‘Yes, Miss Crawford.’ He sounded like a sulky schoolboy.
‘This is where I leave you.’ I bowed to my employer. ‘If you need my help, recite a soliloquy from Hamlet.’
I heard the doorbell en route to my desk and decided to spare the butler’s bunions. To my astonishment, I found Bette Davis waiting. She wore an expectant expression that perfectly accessorized her sensible slacks and sea-foam green blouse flecked with tiny polka dots.
‘Good morning …’ She paused for me to fill in the name she hadn’t bothered to remember. It took me a moment to think of it myself. ‘What a cute outfit. Very casual. But then I suppose it is Saturday. Where would Addison like me?’
Oh, no. Oh, dear God, no.
‘The solarium.’ I blurted the name of the room farthest from the library. Davis pulled a face. ‘It has wonderful acoustics,’ I added.
‘Acoustics. Will he be singing opera?’ She laughed and let me show her into the house.
I trotted back to the library, calling on every patron saint I could think of to intervene. Something told me we’d need a full complement of them.
Rapping gently on the door, I leaned into the library. Crawford looked irritated, whether at Addison’s aptitude or my interruption I couldn’t be sure.
‘Might I borrow Mr Rice for a moment?’ I said sweetly.
In the hallway, I explained the imminent train wreck. ‘Good Lord!’ Addison braced himself against a table not prepared for the task. ‘I completely forgot I asked Bette for a second lesson as well!’
‘If only you had a social secretary to keep these matters straight for you. What would you like to do?’
Addison stood up, as stoic and brave as a man requesting a blindfold from a firing squad. ‘We have a master class.’
It was my job to fetch Davis. ‘Perhaps Addison should have sent a car,’ she said as we walked. We reached the library door. Crazed grin on my face, I swung it wide.
The instant Davis and Crawford clapped eyes on one another, I wanted to get a sweater. Addison chuckled weakly and slumped against a reading stand, looking a trifle woozy. ‘Good morning, Bette! It, uh, it appears we have you ladies double-booked.’
The actresses
in tandem turned their gazes upon me, and I felt all the moisture leave my body. Naturally, they would assume the error was mine, and for Addison’s sake I let them. He nodded his profound thanks to me, then coughed out another ghastly chuckle. ‘And I thought, why shouldn’t I take advantage of all this talent?’
A pause followed. Icicles formed in the room’s distant corners.
‘Why not indeed?’ Crawford came out of the gate fast, gunning for an Academy Award of her own. She beamed at Davis. ‘I’m happy to see you again, Bette. The last time was when I visited you while you were working with Franchot on Dangerous.’
‘Yes, you two were so affectionate then. He would always return from lunch with his face covered in lipstick.’ Davis lit a cigarette. ‘Speaking of Franchot, I was so sorry to hear your union had come to an end.’
‘As was I to hear the same of yours. But Franchot and I will be seeing Dark Victory at the premiere in New York.’
Davis brayed a laugh. ‘What on earth for?’
‘I’m a tremendous admirer of your work.’
‘No, why see it with him if you’re divorced?’
Crawford stiffened, then ratcheted up her good cheer. ‘It’s our way of being civilized.’
‘That’s not civilization, Miss Crawford, it’s cruelty. But by all means see the picture. I haven’t yet seen your most recent effort. What is it called? The Ice Queen?’
The reading stand groaned under Addison as he wavered on his feet. Crawford strained her cheeks to their very limits. ‘The Ice Follies of 1939. Just fluff, a fun little romp.’
‘I enjoyed it,’ I squeaked, determined to steer the conversation onto a steady track.
‘You sing in that one, don’t you?’ Davis asked. ‘I seem to remember reports to that effect.’
The question broke Crawford’s spirit, her broad shoulders sagging. ‘Yes, but the numbers were removed.’
‘Ah. I remember reports to that effect, too.’
Enough was enough. ‘Why don’t we start Addison’s lesson?’ I announced to every room in the house, and most of the garden.
I expected both women to leap down my throat, but instead they simultaneously said, ‘Yes, why don’t we?’
And then, for what seemed like an hour and a half, no one spoke. Addison gestured at me helplessly, the man who’d created this mess unable to get himself out of it. Someone had to captain this vessel and maneuver it between two icebergs. That someone, apparently, was me.
‘Again, Addison will be a background performer in a nightclub scene. We’re not sure yet how he’ll be used.’
Crawford nodded. ‘Background is so critical. Even aspects the audience is unaware of. We’re about to start work on The Women and everything about it will be female.’
‘Sounds dreadful,’ Davis said.
Her fellow actress went cheerfully on. ‘Every book on the shelf, written by a woman. Every animal in a scene, female. That kind of detail can’t help but create a mood, a sensation that will be communicated onscreen.’
‘Cukor’s directing, isn’t he?’ Davis sniffed. ‘That sounds like one of his ideas.’
‘Yes, he is.’ Crawford kept her countenance angelic. ‘I understand you were in his theatrical company, back in your early days. You were let go, weren’t you? George said something about your being aloof.’
‘There’s a pleasant word for it!’ Davis gave as good as she got in the seraphic smile department. ‘I refused to fraternize with my colleagues. And George longs for sycophants, you know, worshipful types who take every one of his harebrained notions for genius. I’m sure you’ll have a marvelous time. Now, Addison, what are we doing?’
He moved tentatively into the center of the room. Crawford raised her hand.
‘Edmund Goulding suggested when we made Paris that I work barefoot. Draw in the earth’s energy directly. I still do many scenes that way. Gives me a great strength and stillness.’
‘How about it, Addy?’ Davis cracked. ‘Kick off your shoes and let your feet do their stuff.’
‘I don’t think that will be necessary.’
‘Especially if there’s to be dancing. Remind me, will there be dancing in this nightclub?’
‘Yes, physical expression is key.’ Crawford widened her eyes to demonstrate. Davis shielded hers so we couldn’t see them rolling.
Addison stammered. ‘Again, I’m not sure—’
‘Let’s go. Take a spin.’ Crawford clapped her hands.
‘Yes. Dance with—’ Davis gestured at me.
‘Lillian. That’s a wonderful idea,’ Crawford chirped.
‘Is it, though?’ I asked with only a hint of desperation. ‘I won’t be in the picture.’
‘It’s just for rehearsal. Come along now.’ Davis’s manner brought to mind every nun who’d ever instructed me. I had no choice but to obey. Addison placed his arms tentatively around me. Crawford leaned forward, visualizing us in a nightclub.
‘Let’s get you two moving,’ Davis ordered. ‘Shall I hum some music?’
‘That’s right, your husband’s a bandleader, isn’t he?’ Crawford maintained her honeyed tone. Davis swiveled her head toward her.
‘We don’t need any music,’ I yelled, dragging Addison through a basic box-step. I could feel him trembling in fear. As partners went, he was no George Raft.
‘He’s holding you as if you were a live grenade, dear.’ Davis hooted. ‘Relax, Addy. Take your time and get comfortable.’
Addison finally started to lead, his movements becoming smoother. I smiled at him, egging him on.
‘You see what Maude’s been putting up with for decades,’ he said. ‘Three left feet, I’ve got.’
Crawford nodded. ‘Good, good. Now be aware of the camera.’
‘What kind of extra looks into the camera?’ Davis asked.
‘I didn’t tell him to look into the camera, Bette. I suggested he be aware of it.’
‘There’s a difference?’ The question was followed by a long drag on Davis’s cigarette.
‘Of course there is.’ A tremor of doubt crept into Crawford’s voice. She sat even straighter to compensate for it. ‘A performer always wants to know where the camera is, what it’s pointing at.’
‘The camera is not the actor’s concern. The performance is.’
‘What good is a carefully wrought performance if the camera doesn’t see it? Addison can work out the most nuanced characterization and if his back is to the camera it’s all for naught.’
‘The camera sees everything, Miss Crawford. It notices all. Particularly body language. Didn’t you yourself say physical expression is key?’ Davis lapsed into a savage singsong when she quoted Crawford’s words back to her. ‘Acting is more than just the face, the widening of the eyes.’
‘When has anyone ever paid to see someone’s back?’ Crawford protested.
A sinister spark blossomed in Davis’s own eyes as she relished her upcoming rejoinder.
‘I think I’m getting the hang of this!’ a frantic Addison cried.
‘You’re not,’ both actresses said at once.
For the next twenty-seven agonizing minutes my genial employer was subjected not so much to an acting clinic as a vivisection, his esteemed guests critiquing his every move. Davis and Crawford offered contradictory advice that came within a hair’s breadth of compatibility, their dueling sensibilities closer than they at first appeared. Together they made the ideal mentor, provided you could ignore the cutting remarks. Addison perspired profusely while I stumbled over my own feet as well as his. At one point Crawford made a suggestion to me, prompting Davis to retort, ‘Lillian is not in the picture!’ When I realized she had finally remembered my name, I refrained from bursting into tears, keeping the morning’s one genuine display of emotion under wraps.
When the actresses found themselves at loggerheads over how Addison should pull out my chair after our dance, he put his foot down – but discreetly, as only he could.
‘This has been quite the education!’ He mop
ped his brow theatrically. ‘I feel I should stop now so I can absorb all you ladies have taught me.’
‘It was so helpful having the benefit of your wisdom,’ I cooed. ‘Is there any possibility we can arrange to have you both again?’
‘That’s doubtful,’ Davis said.
‘I’m afraid I’ll be frightfully busy,’ Crawford echoed.
‘Cukor, you know.’ Davis lit another cigarette. ‘All that femininity. The screen just lousy with it.’
We walked the ladies out, Addison and I forming a wedge to keep them separate until we reached the front door.
Crawford again offered her impossibly toothy smile. ‘It’s been a lovely morning. I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed myself more.’
‘Yes, a veritable slice of heaven.’ Davis slipped on a pair of sunglasses.
‘We’ll have to do it again,’ Crawford gushed.
‘Why?’
Crawford lunged to embrace Davis, who chose that very moment to turn to Addison, leaving Crawford to stop awkwardly, arms extended in a stance resembling a dinosaur’s. ‘Do tell me how your debut goes, Addy,’ Davis said blithely. ‘Must dash.’
Addison and I waited in the entryway as the two actresses left, making sure they didn’t drive their vehicles headlong into each other. Davis, I was fairly sure, considered the idea. We said nothing until the sounds of both motors had faded, leaving us in blessed silence and sunlight. We basked in the combination for some time.
‘Well,’ Addison finally said. ‘I’m sure everything will be fine.’
‘Are you taking wagers on that?’
‘Is it too early to open a bottle of champagne?’
‘It never is.’
TWENTY-FOUR
I enjoyed every trip to Paramount, but particularly savored those rare occasions when I stole onto the lot over a weekend. These visits reminded me of the fairy tale of the elves and the shoemaker, of work being done in secret. I’d glimpse flurries of activity in office windows or hear hammering from some remote corner of the studio, knowing the efforts would pay dividends come Monday.
Script for Scandal Page 19