“Luke?”
“Yes.”
“Bless him. He’s a good lad, but can be a tad overprotective.” Hattie tapped her fingers against the china cup.
“I gathered that.”
“Don’t worry about him. The cinema is mine, so the decision is mine. However, before I sign anything, I need to know the details.”
“Of course.”
“Why film so much of Amelia’s story in my cinema? Surely her life outside those walls is more significant.”
Claire settled against the chair, delighted by Hattie’s interest. “When Amelia first started designing, she couldn’t get any work because she used her first name. Back then no one thought a woman should have that kind of career, even though she was more than capable.”
“Those were different times, although it hasn’t changed in some regards.”
Claire nodded, refraining from getting on her high horse. “She started using initials in front of her surname and, a little like Cyrano de Bergerac, she had her male assistant stand in as AJ Elliott.”
“That doesn’t fit in with what you wrote in the letter.”
“Ah, it does, don’t worry.” Claire took a moment to get her history straight. “Although Amelia was confident in her designs, the attitude of her day was that women should be in the kitchen or hosting tea parties. She had to find a way around it, but soon came to the realization she was cheating herself, and other women, of the opportunity to show the world what they can do. One of her clients was behind in payments, so she set up camp in the cinema until the bill was settled. That cinema burned down years ago, but it was where she made the decision to publicly announce who she was and the work she did. It was also when she fell in love with her assistant.”
“How wonderfully romantic! Although, wouldn’t having a man by her side make her less…progressive?”
“Not at all! It was because of her newfound strength that she realized she could have anything men could—a career and marriage and, years later, children. That’s the beauty of her story. She set out trying to work around society’s expectations, but eventually realized that the world wouldn’t change unless she did something about it.”
“I would have loved to meet her.”
“Me too.”
“But why do you need so long to film in my cinema?”
“A one-day shoot only creates six or so minutes of TV screen time, and because the cinema is so significant, there are a lot of scenes that need to be shot there.”
“I see.” Hattie’s serious tone made Claire hold her breath. “There is one major stipulation—I will not sign unless you are in charge of the goings-on at my cinema.”
“I can assure you that everyone will treat your cinema with the utmost care.”
“I won’t agree if I don’t think that will be the case. What is it you do, exactly?”
“My job?”
“Yes.”
Hattie’s interest encouraged Claire. “I look after the health and safety of the cast and crew, as well as ensure you’re paid on time and your property is looked after. I also have to make sure all the permits are in place and…” She paused, a desire to lay it all on the table overtaking her. “I should tell you this is my first time in charge of locations.”
Idiot! Why bring this up?
Hattie’s mouth dropped open. “You’ve never done this before?”
“I’ve worked my way up through the ranks over the years. It’s been a hard slog.”
Hattie stared. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want you to go into this with full disclosure.”
“This could give me a good reason to say no,” said Hattie.
Claire held her breath.
“But I like your honesty. It makes me think I can trust you.”
“I won’t let you down.”
“Those words you wrote are heartfelt. And I can see you are a woman who grasps a challenge and runs with it.” Hattie’s eyes lit up. “You remind me of a young me.”
“Really?” Claire wanted to unleash an avalanche of questions, but bit her lip.
“Believe it or not, I was a young girl with dreams once.”
“I absolutely can believe it.”
“So,” said Hattie. “Let’s talk details, and I will give you my final decision.”
Chapter Seven
1950 – Hollywood
Lena sat in the chair, trying not to wriggle. The hair and makeup process had taken longer than expected.
“Just a little more…” Vanessa, the makeup artist and one of Lena’s friends, painted the last of the red lipstick on Lena’s lips. “There! You look gorgeous!”
“I don’t feel gorgeous,” muttered Lena.
“Well, we’ve fixed up those bags under your eyes. You look like you’ve had a full night’s sleep now.” Vanessa stood back and admired her work.
“I wish!” Lena got off the chair, removed the cape from around her neck and placed it on the counter.
“You really should try it.”
“Try what?” Lena picked up the gold dress she was to wear for her role.
“Sleeping.”
The laugh that fell from Lena’s lips was deep and throaty. “I’ll sleep when I die. Or when they cancel my contract.”
“That’s not going to happen!” Yvonne waltzed into the room and took the dress. She motioned for Lena to remove her robe and Yvonne held out the costume so Lena could step in. The neckline plunged way too low and the dress was the tightest she’d ever tried to squeeze into. Yvonne fussed about, eventually securing the zipper. “You’re up for contract renewal soon, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Lena sighed. “They’ve already got their pound of flesh out of me. I don’t know how much more I have to give.”
Yvonne and Vanessa exchanged looks.
“What?” asked Lena.
“You’re going to need to give a whole lot more of yourself if the rumors are true,” said Vanessa.
“What rumors?” asked Lena.
“Shh.” Yvonne looked around, then whispered, “Apparently Jeanne Harris has got herself in hot water.”
“That’s nothing new,” said Lena at her regular volume.
“Keep it down! This place has ears.” Vanessa packed the makeup. “This time, Jeanne’s predicament is worse.”
“What’s she done now?” Although the friendship between Jeanne and Lena had dissolved, Lena still cared what happened to her.
“Booze.”
“A heap of people have a problem with booze in Hollywood,” said Lena.
“And drugs.”
“That too.” Lena tried to adjust the dress, but it wouldn’t budge. “This is not news, ladies. Jeanne had a problem with it before she became a star.” She stopped what she was doing. “She’s all right, isn’t she?”
“She’s functioning, if that’s what you mean. Cooper has a minder with her twenty-four hours a day now,” said Yvonne. “Look, I don’t want to spread rumors, but Jeanne’s sliding on a slope that is very slippery, and if Breen gets wind of it…”
“Joseph Breen?” Lena stood straight. “Just because he spends his life enforcing the Hays Code doesn’t mean he has a say over individuals. His job is to censor movies, not be the moral police in people’s personal lives, even if they are Hollywood stars. And don’t get me started on this stupid censorship code. Imagine how different Casablanca would have been had Breen and his cronies not wielded their power over the director and scriptwriters. If Breen had let things be, then Ilsa and Rick would have ended up together.”
“But they had an affair in the movie.”
“Yes, I realize this, and adultery should never be condoned but…it was Ilsa and Rick! One of the greatest couples in history!” Lena looked at the ceiling and sighed. “What I wouldn’t give to have a role like
that.”
“I would design your costumes,” said Yvonne.
Vanessa picked up a hairbrush and waved it with a flourish. “And I would do hair and makeup!”
Lena looked down at her high heels and the fabric caressing her every curve. “You don’t think this is too over-the-top?”
“You’re playing a seductress! What do you expect to wear? A nun’s habit?”
“Ha!” Lena patted her freshly curled hair. “It just feels odd playing such an…interesting role.”
“This is a great chance to show Lawrence you can do anything. Sweet, sultry and everything in between,” said Yvonne. “And you have more lines and screen time than ever before.”
“True.” Lena pulled her shoulders back. She glanced at the clock above the mirror and moved her neck from side to side, stretching her muscles. “Guess it’s time.”
“Go get ’em!” Yvonne said while Vanessa gave thumbs up followed by a large grin.
Lena went to open the door, but the stupid thing wouldn’t budge. She rattled the handle a few times and the lock clicked open.
“That should really get fixed,” said Yvonne.
“Yup.” Lena stepped into the corridor and straightened her dress. After her singing debut at the Coopers’ a few months earlier, she’d met with the director, Lawrence. He’d been suitably impressed by her performance—enough to give her a bigger role, but not enough for him to stick his neck out and offer her leading lady. That would never happen as long as Jeanne Harris remained everybody’s darling, regardless of her shortcomings.
Oh, Jeanne. What had she gotten herself into now?
Lena made her way onto set, skillfully dodging the cables strewn across the floor, the low-hanging lights and the wooden supports at the back of scenery. She found Lawrence at the far end of the set, clipboard in hand as he spoke with George, who used a pencil to point to sections of the script.
Lena waited off to the side, reciting the next scene’s lines in her head.
George glanced over, his eyes earnest.
A hollow feeling grew in her belly.
Lawrence rubbed the back of his neck. George walked toward her, slowing down as he drew near. He didn’t look her in the eye, but said quietly, “We’ll talk soon.”
She held onto his arm. “What’s going on?”
“I can’t tell you. We’ll catch up later.” He hurried away and disappeared through the narrow gap of the huge set door.
“Lee.” Lawrence beckoned her.
The high heels and tight fabric meant her walk was more of a sashay, but she didn’t mind, given her role in this particular movie was that of seductress. She might as well embrace her character before the cameras started rolling.
“You’re out.”
“What?” Then she remembered who she was speaking with. “Pardon?”
“We’ve had one of Breen’s men go through the script, and we’re going to have to do some serious rewriting. That means no seductress.”
“But she’s a huge part of the storyline! I have two songs!”
Lawrence pushed out a long-suffering sigh. “I am aware of this.”
“You could change the role, make my character less…free-spirited.”
“Sorry, Lee. I know you were excited about this, and I was looking forward to seeing what you can do, but it’s not going to happen. Not in this movie, anyway.”
Hot tears welled in her eyes, and she concentrated on staring at the glittery heels that were already causing her feet to hurt. “Can’t—”
“It’s out of my hands now. Cooper could fight for it, but it’s not worth it. Better to scratch one role than end up getting the whole movie canned.”
“What about the Italian movies? American audiences love them, and they’re not offended by risqué themes or partial nudity. How can foreign films like these be shown here yet we can’t have one character—and not a lead role at that—who is sultry? Where’s the fairness?” The words tumbled from her mouth even though she knew she should reel them back in. “You assured me we’d get the seductress past the censorship board.”
“I guess I was wrong. It could be worse.”
“How?”
“We could have filmed it, and you would have ended up on the cutting-room floor.” Lawrence put his hand on her arm and she looked up. “I truly am sorry, Lena.”
“Where—” She cleared her throat. “Where does that leave me?”
“I don’t have any roles for you right now. But don’t worry, you’ll be paid for this project regardless.”
“That’s not the point,” she mumbled.
“What can I do?” He threw his arms wide.
“Nothing. Thanks anyhow.” She walked away, wishing she could think of something—anything—that would save her role, even if it was watered down. But it made sense to take out her role altogether in order to make the movie more “wholesome.” She couldn’t even call her agent to go to bat for her, as he’d holed himself up in some beach hut in Hawaii for an extended vacation.
By the time she got back to the dressing room Yvonne and Vanessa had left.
Lena slammed the door and kicked off her shoes. She struggled with the zipper, and as she thrashed from side to side she let out a few curse words.
“May I help?”
Lena spun to find Reeves Garrity standing in the doorway. “What are you doing in here? Get out!”
She reached for the door and slammed it shut, horrified. Lena wrestled herself out of the dress then put on her day clothes, not worrying about hair or makeup. All she wanted right now was to get off the lot and far, far away from this day.
Opening the door, she stepped out to find Reeves leaning against the wall, arms crossed, staring into space.
“I thought I told you to get out,” she said.
“I did. You never said to go away.”
“I am warning you, Reeves Garrity, you do not want to mess with me today.”
“I’m really not. I just happened to be walking past and heard you cursing and—”
“So you opened the door?”
“The door was already wide open.”
That stupid lock was unpredictable. Just like this life she’d thought she wanted. But did she, really? Or would she be better off returning to obscurity? Where her heart wouldn’t be ripped out and stomped on in front of her peers? She could be back at home and married with children right now, yet she persisted in chasing a dream that may never materialize.
A lump formed in her throat and hot tears welled in her eyes.
“Lena?” Reeves’s expression wasn’t one of pity. There was deep concern that made her feel vulnerable yet warm at the same time. “Lena? Are you all right?”
She bit her trembling lip.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Lena nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Although anger and disappointment had been her initial reactions, a deep-seated fear of never being good enough, of never catching a break, now overtook her and she hated feeling so exposed. Especially in front of someone whose career was on an upward trajectory.
Reeves walked beside her, his long gait shortened to meet hers. He towered above her, like a strong sentinel, and, as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she enjoyed the feeling of strength and protection he exuded.
“My car’s near Stage Eight,” said Reeves.
“I’d prefer to walk a bit, if that’s all right.”
“It is definitely all right.”
They exited the gates and headed left onto the main road. She squinted at the glaring blue sky as cars whizzed by, the sun more intense than usual. The thin wool suit she wore now felt too hot, even though it was a cool spring day.
“Would you like a coffee? Perhaps a soda?” asked Reeves.
“Shouldn’t you be on set? Aren’t you filming with Jeanne?�
� The questions tumbled out before she could hold them back. “Sorry.”
Reeves’s laugh sounded kind. “Don’t be sorry. We’ve finished filming. I was on my way to look at your movie.”
“It’s not my movie,” she said, and all the disappointment and anger rose once more.
“What do you mean?”
“I had a role—my biggest yet—but they’ve scrapped it because of censorship.”
“I’m so sorry, Lena.” His sincerity touched her.
“It’s not your fault. It’s the industry, and neither you nor I have any control over it.”
“Let’s skip the coffee and go to the bar. What do you think?”
“I think that’s an excellent plan.”
Chapter Eight
1950 – Hollywood
Lena and Reeves sat in a booth at Lonnie’s Bar, nursing a couple of whiskeys. A basket of fries sat untouched between them.
Reeves drummed his fingers on the table. “What are you going to do?”
All Lena could offer was a shrug. She sipped the whiskey. It burned her throat, but she didn’t care. “I know I should let this movie go. There’s nothing more I can do about it. I just need to concentrate on what’s next.”
“What is next?”
“I have no idea!” Lena let out a loud laugh followed by a snort. “Should I be worried?”
It was Reeves’s turn to shrug.
“I should be worried but…I’m not.” She leaned toward him. “Is that insane?”
“I don’t know you well enough to know if you’re insane—”
“I asked if my thoughts were insane, not me.” She followed that with a wry smile.
“I didn’t mean…” he stammered.
“I’m joking.”
“Ah, I get it,” he said, not too convincingly.
They fell into silence, the quiet chatter of patrons in the bar keeping them company. Lena traced her fingers across the scratched surface of the wooden parquetry table, suddenly self-conscious in the presence of someone she barely knew—and she’d already said too much. She was usually more wary about opening up to strangers, yet here she was, sitting in a bar at lunchtime, drinking whiskey with a man she didn’t know if she could trust.
The Cinema of Lost Dreams Page 7