If only they knew…
When teenager Lissie Perkins spirited her younger brother away from their cruel parents and promised she always would take care of him, she was true to her word. Lissie worked as a maid and a waitress at night so she could audition during the day. Little West Perkins was a latchkey child in a one-room apartment for the first year they were in Los Angeles while Lissie figured out the lay of the land. She tutored him and taught him about surviving in LA and made sure that he did not fall behind on his studies.
By the second year they were in California, the gorgeous Lissie had been signed by a studio and was busy being remade into “Dana Montgomery.” She lied about her age, and her exotic looks and her husky Tallulah Bankhead voice gave the studio execs no reason to suspect otherwise.
Lissie/Dana came home from work every day and taught little West all of the lessons she had learned about how to conduct herself, how to use the correct fork (even though they only had one each for the first couple of years), how to dress (if they ever got enough money to buy West a real wardrobe), what to read, how to speak and, most importantly, how to hide from Child Protective Services.
Even at a young age, West recognized the sacrifices his sister was making to care for him. She did not date. She spent every cent she made as an extra making sure that the two of them had a roof over their heads, food, transportation, and clothing neat and clean enough to allow West to go to school under the radar.
Afraid that their parents might have alerted the authorities (but assuming they probably were not missed), Dana checked names on the call sheets for a week. Each actor working on her film had his or her name listed on the daily call sheet. She combined the three ‘best’ ones and came up with a new name for her little brother. “West Perkins” became “Wesley Holley-Smythe,” and was enrolled at Luther Burbank Middle School in Burbank with an outlandish story about Dana volunteering as a foster mom to an orphaned boy. In the days before computers knew so much, hard-copy records took a long time to research, and thankfully, the lie slipped through the system, allowing Wesley to enroll in John Burroughs High School the next year. By the time he got to the University of Southern California, any questions had become a thing of the past, and with a fake birth certificate purchased on a corner of Alvarado Street, Wesley Holley-Smythe was able to get a California driver’s license, a Social Security Card and a passport with a little help from the studio, no questions asked.
Chapter 22
Wesley exits the library as Mark reenters, dressed for basketball. Dana sinks down into the divan and starts to cry again as Mark tries to comfort his mother. “Calm down, Mom. Susana is on her way here. I’m going to try one more time to teach her how to play basketball.”
“That’s nice, dear,” Dana says, staring straight ahead, unmoving.
Mark looks at her, worried. He crouches down directly in front of her. “Mom, I know you’re being eaten up by this whole thing with Blaine, but I have to point out, again, that you can’t be sure that he has ever had an affair.”
Dana looks up at him and shrugs. “I know, but the girls in his class just keep getting younger while I get older.”
Mark sternly advises her, “You can’t change that, and you’re definitely not helping matters by falling asleep on the couch with a martini in one hand and pills in the other.”
Dana’s eyes well up with tears as she stands and crosses to the bar to refill her glass. “Beats falling asleep alone.”
Mark grimaces, reflecting his disgust with Blaine. “Blaine always finds his way home ... Maybe I could program his GPS to take him somewhere else.”
Dana nervously flips her gorgeous hair. “He makes enough stops along the way as it is. He seems awfully fond of your fiancée, and I don’t see her refusing his attention. I must say, I didn’t expect that from her. I worked hard to introduce you to someone with breeding and money. I didn’t think she would be so susceptible…”
Mark struggles to retain his composure and his chiseled features suddenly look a little crumpled. “No, you’re right. All of that breeding and money doesn’t stop Susana from flirting with Blaine in class. It’s humiliating. If every woman in that room didn’t have her cell phone recording his every action, I’d punch him silly.”
Dana throws up her arms in resignation. “I knew Blaine was sniffing around Susana. Her father is richer than Fort Knox.” She heads for the bar, grabs the martini shaker, and pours another drink, then lays out another row of “ritual pills.” When Mark tries to grab them, she clamps onto the capsules to guard them.
Mark explodes in frustration. “Six tranquilizers in an hour with a martini chaser? No more!” Having failed to get the “ritual” tranquilizers on the bar, Mark spots the open pill bottle and grabs at it, but hits Dana’s hand as she tries to run interference.
As happened earlier with Blaine, two dozen capsules fly across the bar in the scuffle. Mark throws up his hands in frustration and issues a little lecture, not for the first time. “Booze and pills are not the way to cope with loneliness and anger,” he says, then immediately feels silly, like a dime-store psychologist. Mark mutters as he scoops up the pills and puts them back into the bottle.
Dana lets out a throaty laugh. “Coping? Do I look like I’m coping? I must be a better actress than I thought!”
Mark puts the refilled pill bottle back on the bar as Wesley reenters the library and announces, “Mark, Ms. Alfonso is here.”
Susana enters the library dressed in sweatpants and sneakers. Mark and Dana burst into laughter.
Susana frowns. “I thought you wanted me to dress for basketball. I just bought these. They’re Brunello Cucinelli. No good?”
Mark wraps his arm around Susana’s shoulder. “Of course, sweetheart. Learning to play basketball always goes more smoothly with nine-hundred-dollar sweatpants. Thank you for ‘classing up’ the court.”
Dana rolls her eyes, but says only, “It’s good to see you, Susana. We’re very excited that your family will be here in a few days for the engagement party. I’m sorry that your father couldn’t get away in time for the ‘Homes for the Homeless’ event tomorrow night.”
Susana looks suspiciously at Dana’s welcoming attitude but decides to go along with it.
“Thank you, Dana. I am certain that Papa is too much of a homebody to attend two parties so close together,” Susana says.
“And I apologize for that, dear. If I had known of your father’s limited availability, I would have passed on the charity event in favor of the engagement party. We could have done the next event, instead,” Dana says.
Mark gives Susana another squeeze and says, “Why don’t you head on out to the basketball court, and I’ll meet you there? I have to run upstairs.”
“Sounds good, sweetie. Just don’t laugh if I never make a touchdown,” Susana says. Mark and Dana try not to giggle. Mark hustles Susana toward the front door knowing that Dana is three seconds away from hysterical laughter.
Mark goes upstairs and Susana walks out the front door and bumps into Blaine. Susana’s demeanor changes from one of dread about playing basketball to one of excitement about a few moments alone with Blaine.
Blaine’s natural obsession with flirting bubbles to the surface upon seeing Susana alone. Despite knowing that Dana and Mark are on the other side of the door, Blaine cannot resist turning on the charm.
“Susana, my dear! Don’t you look beautiful! What a charming outfit. Please tell me that my stepson is not going to waste your beauty on a basketball court. That boy has no concept of how to treat a woman such as yourself,” Blaine drawls out, every syllable oozing maximum charm.
“You could join us,” Susana says hopefully.
“Would that I could, but I must return to school. I’m just here to retrieve my cell phone,” says Blaine. The door opens and Mark walks out, putting his arm around Susana and guiding her toward the yard.
“Why don’t you do that, Blaine? I’m sure you must be late for your next…whatever,” Mark mutters.
“Lovely to see you, Susana, my dear,” Blaine says. “Goodbye, Mark.”
Blaine ducks inside and grabs his phone from the foyer table and goes back outside to watch Susana walk away.
“Such a waste,” Blaine grumbles as he jogs over to the Valkyrie and leaves.
Wesley, hearing all of the commotion in the foyer, walks in and sees nobody. Smelling Blaine’s overly strong aftershave, Wesley realizes that his erstwhile brother-in-law must have returned home for something. Wesley glares at the front door, wondering why Blaine had returned, but hearing no argument from the library, chalks it up as a “win.”
Wesley looks out the front door and sees Blaine’s car driving away. Snorting his derision, he hovers in the hall for a few moments, thinking about how much better his sister’s life would be if she had never met Blaine. It was the studio executives that forced the issue of her remarriage, arguing that she needed to find love again in order for the public to continue to accept her in leading roles.
“I should have taken Sis and Mark and disappeared somewhere,” Wesley says to himself, feeling guilty. “It was too much for her.”
His deep dive into “woulda, shoulda, coulda” is interrupted by the doorbell. Thinking “now what,” he opens the door to find Francesca Wilde.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Wilde. I’ll tell Ms. Montgomery you’re here,” Wesley says with a slight bow.
“Wesley, please call me Francesca,” Francesca says.
“Of course, Ms. Wilde. One moment, please,” Wesley says with a smile as he walks to the library.
“Madam, Ms. Francesca Wilde is here,” Wesley announces.
Dana perks up immediately. “Ches is here? Please show her in, Wesley.”
Thankfully, Francesca is one of a few people who knows the “real Dana” from back in the day when they started out as extras. Ches has been there for all of it — Dana’s first, happy marriage, Daniel’s tragic, early death, Dana’s subsequent marriages, and her agony over Blaine’s suspected infidelities during the past decade. Ches even saw Dana through a stint in the Betty Ford clinic, after Blaine’s constant flirting drove Dana to drink more, perpetuating a vicious cycle of drinking, arguing, resentment and rebellion at the heart of this fragile marriage.
Ches understands the rules of the industry of which they are both a part and the pressure of being at the center of a daily public relations production. Dana does not have to act a certain way or watch what she says in front of her best friend, and she is grateful for the relief. Francesca knows that Dana sticks to the script the studio wrote for her all those years ago and that Dana continues to play the role of “the Vixen,” on film and in real life, because that carefully crafted image pays the bills. She also knows that, no matter how tiring it is, Dana will have to ride that train until the train refuses to chug along one more mile.
With the grandeur of the most glorious monarch, Francesca Wilde glides across the floor. The recipient of a few Academy Awards, several Tonys, and more Golden Globes than she can remember, her work often is compared to that of Bette Davis or Meryl Streep, and despite being over forty, she still is sought out for lead acting roles.
Dana extends both hands with the perfunctory air kiss. “Ches, what a wonderful surprise.”
Francesca looks around the library, noticing that things are a bit awry after the day’s scuffles. “I can’t stay. I was driving by and saw Blaine’s car careening out of the driveway. I stopped to see if you were okay.”
“Of course, I’m okay. Aren’t I always?” laughs Dana sardonically. “Blaine was late for ... class,” she adds, nearly spitting out the word. “Martini?”
Francesca points at the broken martini glasses on the floor. “No, thank you. What was wrong with those? Too much vermouth? Not enough olives?”
Dana kicks absent-mindedly at a piece of broken martini glass, flashing back at how she felt when she hurled them at Blaine. “Too many women, not enough discretion, is more like it.”
Dana pours a martini and wobbles toward the couch. Francesca reaches out to steady her. “That’s why Blaine blew out of here? Running from … or to … his indiscretions?” asks Francesca.
Dana growls, “Well, you know Blaine. He is not a man who likes to have his character flaws pointed out. It’s always hard to predict his final destination.”
“He is a man of mystery,” Ches says dryly, dropping onto the couch next to her friend.
“You know, I blame myself to some extent, for this situation you find yourself in,” Francesca says.
“How so?”
“I should have said something, advised you differently. Maybe encouraged you to stand up to the studio. Instead, I saw everything through a career lens, instead of a human one. I remember thinking that after Daniel died and after your next two marriages … ended … that dating too much and leaving Mark at home when he was so young would have been deadly to your career. At the time, I thought your finding love with Blaine was a good thing. You were vulnerable, and your ‘advisors’ were busy looking after their own interests, not yours. I should have spoken up.”
“Oh, Ches, don’t blame yourself. I wouldn’t have listened. I was having fun, for the first time in a long time. It’s hard to remember, sometimes, but in the beginning, Blaine was pretty wonderful. He was charismatic and funny, and he came close, at times, to filling the huge void left by Daniel. He took Mark to Lakers games and cheered him on at basketball and Little League. I really thought I had another shot at happily-ever-after.”
“Oh honey, I thought you did too,” Ches tells her friend. After a pause, she says, “Dana, are you sure Blaine has ever been unfaithful? I mean, all the way to the absolute point of no return? I agree that he’s an outrageous flirt, but it’s part of his charm. It’s his shtick.”
“Oh, my goodness, if you knew how often I’d been asked that today…” Dana says.
“Sorry, I had no idea it was such a popular topic of discussion, though perhaps I should have guessed…”
“No, it’s fine,” Dana says as she stumbles to the bar and picks up the martini shaker. “I have no proof, Ches. But I’m tired of his shtickiness being spread among all of the co-eds at that college. All I’m sure of is that I keep getting older and his students keep getting younger. I need another martini.”
As Dana pours a drink, Francesca rises from the couch and joins her friend. Taking the glass from Dana, she says, “Give me that. You’re going to pass out and smash that gorgeous face on the floor.” Then she dumps the martini into a plant near the bar and sets the glass on the bar.
Dana laughs in protest. “Hey, no wasting martinis on a plant! It didn’t even send me a thank you note for the bottled water it got a little while ago.”
Francesca takes a bottled water from the bar refrigerator and hands it to Dana. Dana pretends to examine the water as though she is unsure of its purpose.
Dana slurs, “Francesca, dahhhhlinng. You, of all people, know that I never pass out. I only get numb enough to blur my reflection in the mirror.”
Determined to push Dana back to reality, Francesca guides her to the mirror to show Dana her still-beautiful reflection. She admonishes Dana, “Look at that face! You’re a goddess! You have always been absolutely gorgeous. So what if you don’t look like you did twenty years ago? You are incredibly beautiful! There are twenty-year-olds who would give up everything to look like you! And I’m not just saying that because you’re my friend and I love you.”
Dana smiles at her old friend weakly, then turns back to the mirror and studies her reflection. “Do you think I should get Botox?”
Francesca examines both of their faces in the mirror, giving them serious consideration. “I understand the temptation, and you wouldn’t be the first person to do it, but you don’t need it. You have no wrinkles. Furthermore, you eat like a horse, and you don’t gain weight. If you could bottle your metabolism and sell it, you’d be richer than anyone we know!”
“I’d trade my metabolism to be younger,” Dana f
rets.
“Younger isn’t everything. You have style. You have talent. You have a contact list that makes the Motion Picture Academy’s look miniscule. You could have any man you want, and why you waste your time obsessing over Blaine, I’ll never know, but I guess we can’t control who we love,” Francesca observes.
“That’s for sure,” laughs Dana. “If I could control Blaine, I wouldn’t spend my days and nights weeping into a martini.”
Francesca looks at Dana with disbelief. “Stop it, Dana. Look at Mark’s fiancée. Susana lives on coffee with sweetener. She takes in about five-hundred calories a day and always seems miserable. You don’t have to be twenty-five to be beautiful. ‘Twenty-five’ is just a number.”
“Yes, well, I’d trade a lot to be twenty-five again,” Dana grumbles. Still staring at herself in the mirror, she raises her hands to her temples and pulls her crow’s feet back toward her hairline and asks her friend, “Francesca, tell me the truth. Does everyone think that Blaine stays with me for the money?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Francesca teases. “If Blaine were only interested in money, he would have married me instead. I’m richer.”
Ignoring Francesca’s attempt at humor, Dana refuses to see the obvious beauty in her reflection and scowls at the image. “That’s because you never remarried after Stephen died, so nobody drained your bank account. The way Blaine spends money, I’ll be borrowing against Mark’s trust soon. At the current rate of spending, Mark’s inheritance will be gone before I die.”
Dana drops her hands from the “temporary facelift” and shakes herself back into reality. “You know, there’s nothing more tragic than an ‘old broad’ holding onto her newest husband with her dead husband’s money.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Dana Montgomery. I’m sure Blaine doesn’t stay with you for the money. First of all, you’re the best looking ‘old broad’ in the industry. Second of all, didn’t you tell me that he fell in love with you because of your acting ability? That doesn’t change. You are Hollywood royalty. Act like it! Own the role!”
The Case of the Stained Stilettos Page 9