“What are you doing in bed this time of day?” Alicia asked, and sashayed into his room, the tail of her blond coat wafting out behind her.
“I’m a bit knackered,” he said. “Question is, what are you doing? I thought you had a luncheon date, and I wouldn’t get to see you before I left.”
“The date was canceled.” Alicia flipped around. “Eddie. I want you to stay.”
At once, Edmund perked up, no longer looking like a naughty child sent to his room.
“Your … business.” She waggled her fingers. “The bit about going to Europe with Linda Christian. Is that true?”
He’d been saying it to the press for weeks. Edmund Purdom was done in America. What did he need with Hollywood, or, indeed, New York? London, Rome, these cities were more fashionable than anything Stateside. Besides, the timing was right, as he’d recently left his studio (mostly) of his own volition. He had the reputation of being hotheaded and childish but, unlike Spence, at least Eddie wasn’t a drunk.
“Are you really leaving?” Alicia asked. “Or are you trying to get back at me for the rejected proposals?”
“A bit of both. I have to milk the publicity, doll, you know that.” He reached out for her. “This scandal’s been the best thing to happen to my career.”
In Alicia’s estimation, the best thing to happen to his career was getting cast in Brando’s role. Although, Edmund was in the paper a lot more now thanks to the rumors. Alicia didn’t care for Linda Christian, or her brand of overly solicitous sexpot, but was glad everyone blamed Miss Christian for the dissolution of the Purdom marriage, instead of her.
“I thought Linda bored you.”
Alicia took off one glove, and then another.
“I don’t think of her much, one way or another,” Edmund said. “But if they’re going to put us onscreen to sell tickets, I’ll gladly accept the money.”
Alicia flung her gloves onto the dresser. She slipped the coat from her shoulders, and let it fall to the floor.
“I don’t want you to go to Europe,” she said. “Because I can’t, not with my MoMA internship starting next week.”
“Also, your immigration status.”
He rolled his eyes, as fed up as Kate was with the excuse. They had this one thing—and only one thing—in common.
“Please, Edmund. Stay. Stay in the States with me.”
“And you’ll be … what? Showering me with attention one minute, and then poof—gone—the next? Doing whatever it is you do when you vanish … gallivanting, painting, nattering about Communists with that horrible Jack Kennedy?”
Alicia’s stomach went squirrelly from hearing Jack’s name.
“I really don’t like that man,” Edmund said.
“I’m aware,” she replied, a little tartly given she’d previously flaunted Jack directly in his face.
It’d been two years, but that sort of thing stuck with a man.
“Jack’s not part of my life,” Alicia said. “Not anymore. But you are.”
“You want us to be together?” Eddie asked. “Like a proper couple?”
“Exactly like that.” She smiled.
“No more Jack Kennedy?”
“No more Jack.”
“Good,” Edmund said. “Because I don’t want to see that jowly mug ever again. I don’t want to hear his bloody name.”
“My sentiments exactly,” she said. “Although you are the one who brought him up.”
Edmund nodded, and looked at the ground, as he lightly bit his bottom lip. Then he lifted his gaze, and wielded that sexy, snaggletoothed grin.
“Well, Alicia Darr. In addition to being the steamiest bird I’ve ever seen, you cut a convincing argument.”
“That’s a yes?”
“Of course it’s a yes. All you had to do was ask.”
Edmund Purdom and Alicia Darr are expected to elope any edition.
On Broadway, by Walter Winchell, November 18, 1956
NEW YORK
When Edmund walked into their room at the Warwick Hotel, Alicia was huddled in a chair by the window.
He’d just returned from his second appearance in Child of Fortune, a dramatization of the Henry James novel The Wings of the Dove. The critics had panned the performance, calling it a “bloodless affair” and Eddie himself “dull in a dull role.” Alicia went to opening night and found both the plot and Ed more than adequate. Even the catty Walter Winchell “enjoyed every moment of it.” Alas, she was an art student, and he a gossip columnist, so what did they know?
“Bloody hell,” Eddie murmured, staggering in. “The audience booed. I’ve put everything into this performance, my absolute all. People don’t appreciate good theater these days. A sodding tragedy, is what it is. No culture, no class.”
Alicia glanced up.
“Edmund,” she whimpered, “I can’t, with the…”
Ego, she wanted to say.
“I can’t do it,” she mumbled instead. “Not tonight.”
“Apparently neither can I,” he said with a snort.
He dropped onto the bed, took off his shoes, and then finally noticed Alicia’s sad eyes, anemic face, and the piece of paper wadded up in her fist.
“Did something happen, love?” he asked, propping himself up on both knees.
There were many things one could say about Edmund Purdom, but if nothing else, he understood women. He was attuned to their moods and varying degrees. Kate argued it was because Eddie was a bit of a woman himself.
“My mother died,” Alicia said, and opened her hand to reveal a telegram.
WE REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT AFTER A LONG ILLNESS …
“A long illness” was one way to put it. Mother had been dying for ten years, probably longer with everything she’d gone through before setting foot in the camp.
“Aw, shit,” Edmund said. “Are you sure?”
“If you can’t trust a priest, who can you?” Alicia said, and again brandished the telegram. “I’ve spoken to the chaplain. They’ve prepared the body and will lay her to rest in a cemetery beside the hospital. I wish it could be somewhere in Poland, but mailing bodies around Europe is frowned upon and I have nowhere to bury her anyhow.”
“You’re not going back?” he asked. “To say good-bye?”
“Oh, Eddie.” She sighed. “Say good-bye to what? A corpse? I don’t have a passport and it’d take weeks, months, to get the paperwork in order.”
“Right, right,” Eddie said, nodding.
Even Edmund Purdom knew not to tease Alicia about her immigration problems that day.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That is crap news.”
“Crap news” was better than anything she might’ve come up with. Alicia was upset, yet not. Shocked. A touch relieved. Filled with remorse. In the end, these reactions had all combined into a dull flatness, a tired, ugly gray.
“Doll, I wish you’d say something.” Edmund crouched beside her. “What can I do to make this better?”
He ran a hand along her shin, then peered up at her, imploring.
“There’s nothing to do, really,” Alicia said. “Not now. It’s probably for the best. She was in pain, and her mind was gone, and she was furious that she was in a Catholic hospital. Plus, she wasn’t exactly missing me. She told the priest I died in a convent.”
Alicia chucked the balled-up telegram across the room.
“I have an idea.” Edmund lifted her to standing. “Let’s get out of here, have a night on the town. I’m thinking the Harwyn sounds nice?”
“Eddie, I’m not in the mood.”
“What are you going to do instead?” he asked. “Sit by the window moping all night?”
He jerked her forward. Alicia let herself be pulled.
“Look at you,” Eddie said, indicating her dress, a black crepe number with a side drape. “You’re dressed, beautiful as ever, despite your despair.”
He gently fingered the black pearls resting on her collarbone.
“I went to church,” she said.
>
“Now that’s something you don’t hear every day,” he joked.
“I lit a candle at St. Pat’s. Can you believe it? Catholic Church for a Jew. Even in death, I can’t do right by her.”
“Bollocks. You did everything you could.”
Eddie gave her another tug, and Alicia followed, resigned. As he opened the door, Alicia grabbed her mink, then retrieved her pointy-toed heels from beneath the console, the only ones unpacked. Most of Alicia’s things were still in the suitcases stacked in the corner. Last week they’d had to downgrade from a suite to a regular room, as Eddie hadn’t been paid for his most recent work. There was also his greedy ex-wife, who kept demanding more.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Not really. But let’s go.”
“That’s the spirit. If I know my pretty bird, she’ll perk up when the flashbulbs burst and the first drink is poured. Fame and adoration.” He chuckled, and shook his head. “The best medicine. I don’t know why everyone bothers with all the bloody pills.”
* * *
The Harwyn was a mistake.
The club was too garish, too cheerful with its pink and black decor, and the crush of people dancing and spilling champagne.
“This way, my love,” Eddie said. “They’ve saved us a spot.”
As they wended through the tables, Alicia spied gossip columnist Cholly Knickerbocker, otherwise known as Igor Cassini. She shot him a glare. He’d been writing about her lately, though they’d long ago agreed that he would not.
“Igor,” Alicia seethed.
She arced toward him, but Eddie was quick with the grab.
“No, no, no,” he said, clutching her arm, dragging Alicia to the table he’d picked over the phone. “Harass the poor bastard later. Gossip is his job, which you know best as anyone.”
“Yes, but we had a deal. I’d give him the freshest scoop and he wouldn’t write about me.”
“Oh, love,” Eddie said. “A deal is just another script, bound to be changed.”
They sat down.
For a few minutes, everything seemed okay. Alicia sipped her champagne, Eddie his whisky, and they danced exactly twice. Then, Elvis came on—“Heartbreak Hotel”—and Alicia found her chest locked up, nose quivering. She slipped on sunglasses so no one would see the tears.
“What’s with the glam business?” Eddie asked. “People will think I’ve been rough with you and that you’re covering a black eye.”
He looked over to see her push away a tear.
“Are you crying?” he asked, aghast.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Not even I understand what’s wrong with me. I mourned Mother years ago. She was miserable, and ill, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t make her happy or healthy. I couldn’t make her proud. I always thought I’d have another chance at both of these things.”
“I’m not especially healthy.” He winked. “But you make me immensely proud.”
“Maybe she was right. What have I done with my life, really?” She gestured toward the now-empty bottle of champagne. “Aside from attend parties and visit dance clubs?”
“What about the money you’ve sent over the years?”
“I should’ve gone to see her. I always intended to, but I never did. My parents gave me a second chance, and I took it and ran.”
“But you couldn’t leave the country, lest you not be able to get back in. You’ve told me yourself, a hundred times.”
Alicia nodded, though that wasn’t exactly true, was it?
She supposed it could be, using the strictest interpretation of immigration law. Really, though, she’d had her chances. Like when Jack wanted to take her to the French Riviera, soon after Eunice’s wedding. Or, any of the times Kate invited her to London, or to Rome. Hell, Alicia could’ve finished the paperwork she started six years ago in Oklahoma. She’d be a citizen by now.
“I have to stop making this same excuse,” she said. “Over and over again.”
Alicia set down her glass and stared at the bubbles popping in the light.
“Rome,” she said, then looked up.
“Um, what’s that?” Eddie squinched his eyes.
“Let’s go to Rome,” she said. “I’ve been dying to and everyone’s there now. I have an open invitation, you know, to Novella’s studio on Margutta.”
“That sounds splendid, my love. But won’t you have to wait until the paperwork is in order?”
“Perhaps.” Alicia twisted her mouth. “Or, I could get married. That’d be more expeditious.”
“Married?” he said, his eyes now wide. “Any specific chap?”
“Why, yes. I’m thinking of a seductive, spicy Brit. He’s asked for my hand seven times already.”
Seven and a half. Most recently, Alicia stopped him right before the “will you,” to save them both the embarrassment and the inevitable fight. Edmund was so frantic to marry her, he almost always carried a ring in his jacket, in case she changed her mind.
“Whaddya say?” Alicia asked. “Care to make an honest woman out of me?”
Just as she reckoned he might, and as she’d seen eight times before, Edmund fell onto one knee.
He flipped open the lid of the red velvet box. The hinge no longer creaked, thanks to overuse. Alicia took a second to admire the art deco masterpiece, with its tiered diamond steps that led to a three-carat, square-cut emerald at the peak.
“It’s tsavorite,” Eddie clarified. “Which is sturdier and far more radiant than an emerald. Alicia Darr, for the last time, will you marry me?”
The tsavorite glittered in the club’s darkness.
“The last time?” Alicia said with a spark in her eye.
Eddie Purdom was such a handsome devil, the rare star who was every drop as sexy as his reputation. He wasn’t like so many of the leading men, who were either weak in character, or attracted to the same sex. Plus, Eddie made his own decisions, to hell with the opinions of agents or managers or tyrannical fathers. His choices weren’t always the best, but they were always his.
“The last time,” Eddie said. His grin expanded. “But you are damned hard to resist, so it’s likely I’ll be fighting for you the rest of my days.”
Alicia leaned forward. The candlelight warmed and illuminated her cheeks.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Eddie sprang to his feet and began hopping about.
“She said yes! She said yes!”
“Shhhh!” Alicia said, laughing, tears seeping. “Igor is looking our way.”
Eddie sat, and pulled Alicia onto his lap. She giggled, feeling as though a heavy weight had been cut. This was the start of a new story. She didn’t need her mother, or Jack, or even Kate Hepburn. Alicia could be his completely.
“Next week,” Eddie said, and threw a full glass of whisky down his gullet. “Let’s get married next week!”
“Why the rush, Mr. Purdom? Are you in a family way?”
“No. I am simply in love.”
“I’m not an expert on American divorce laws,” Alicia said. “But doesn’t yours still need to be approved by the courts before you are officially free?”
“You’re right.” He blubbered his lips. “You’d think they’d speed it up. Tita and I have agreed to everything.”
“Is that why she’s trying to take you to court again?” Alicia rubbed his arm. “Oh, sweetheart. We have plenty of time to be married, plenty of years as man and wife. And, we should let the excitement of our engagement sit for a while. Give our big news the chance to spread.”
“To spread?” Eddie blinked.
“I meant…” She smiled. “A chance to sink in. I can’t wait for everyone to find out.”
PURDOM TO WED AGAIN; POLISH GIRL TO BE BRIDE
The Cincinnati Enquirer, April 8, 1957
NEW YORK
Their pre-wedding party was set for a Sunday night, at the Living Room. Alicia wore a blue silk dress with a matching belt. Eddie put on his favorite ascot, which was red. She asked him to please change
it to navy blue.
The guests arrived early. Alicia and Eddie skated through the room, showing off her ring and discussing Eddie’s latest project, the television show Marco the Magnificent, to be filmed in London next month. Alicia smiled brightly and often, despite being somewhat on the brink of tears thanks to Kate, who’d elected not to come.
Alicia could picture her friend lounging diagonally across the bed at the Warwick, in her ratty, white cardigan and loose-fitting trousers, suede boots propped up on the nightstand. She wore a floppy felt hat, though they were indoors.
Kate had just wrapped Desk Set with Spence. Rumors had them starring in Ten North Frederick next, and strictly with each other from then on. Until death do us part, Hepburn-Tracy style.
“That’s why you can’t come,” Alicia huffed when Kate delivered the bad news. “Because of Spence.”
“He’s part of it. Also, this whole thing is nonsense. Why are you marrying him, Alicia? You still haven’t explained.”
“What’s there to explain? Eddie is handsome and interesting. He’s kind.”
“Is he?”
“I realize you did not have a good marital experience, but I’m a different woman. For you, it was a cage. For me, it’s freedom.”
“Freedom!” Kate cawed. “Oh, sister, you’re in for it.”
She began to howl, hardily. Alicia grew ill from the cruel sound of Kate’s laugh.
“Freedom,” she cackled on. “That’s rich. So damned rich, it could buy its own island and aero-plane.”
“It’s really quite direct. I love Eddie, and marrying him gives me the freedom to be Alicia Darr.”
“And where does ‘Purdom’ fit in? Oh, Alicia.” Kate gave a long and drawn-out sigh. “You’re marrying him because you want to escape, and you think Rome is the answer, now that Europe is finally safe.”
“What do you mean ‘finally safe’? The war ended a decade ago!”
“I mean, Europe is finally safe for you. It poses no danger for Barbara Kopczynska, or Alicia Darr, or whatever you’re calling yourself later today or next week. Europe is safe, now that your mother is dead.”
Now that your mother is dead.
As Alicia remembered Kate’s words, the tears formed again. Her lips quivered. Eddie sensed the change in her right away.
The Summer I Met Jack Page 35