Helen was in the living room when he opened the door.
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
“Yes.” The sight of her kicked the desires already alive in him up a notch. He turned about and shut the door, then pulled the key out of his pocket to secure the lock. “Why?”
“You were gone for so long.”
He closed his eyes, pulling up the will to act platonic. Joe was the actor, not him. That had never bothered him, but right now, he wished he’d have gotten a little bit of that ability in the genes that had been passed down to him.
There were no sounds of footsteps, but he felt her approaching, and swung around. Sidestepping around her, he pocketed the key. “I watched until she pulled out of the parking lot.” He gestured toward the window, where sounds of horns blowing and vehicles driving by entered the room. “There’s plenty of traffic out there tonight.”
“That was nice of you.”
He didn’t want to be nice. Tossing that thought aside, he pulled off his suit coat and hung it on the stand. “Well, it’s been a long day.”
“Yes, it has.” She bit her bottom lip for a moment. “Could I ask you a question?”
He debated his sanity for a moment, but then nodded. “Yes. What do you want to know?”
“That woman, the one named Rita? She’s an actress, isn’t she?”
Skepticism struck first. That someone didn’t know who Rita Wells was. “Yes, Rita Wells.” He waited for her reaction. When there wasn’t much of one, other than a simple nod, he asked, “You’ve never heard of her?”
She shook her head.
“She’s very popular. She’s been in hundreds of movies and has been interviewed in every gossip magazine there is,” he explained.
She sighed and then walked over to one of the armchairs flanking the sofa. “I’ve only seen a couple of movies, and have never read a gossip magazine. I’m not sure what those even are.”
He followed and sat in the opposite chair. “You’ve never read a gossip magazine? They’re a dime a dozen. The newsstands are full of them.”
She frowned. “You don’t like them, do you?”
“As a whole, no, because they have no regard for decency. The stories are as counterfeit as a three-dollar bill. Many of the articles are written by the actors themselves, telling tales of how they went from rags to riches.” However, he had to agree with one thing. “But they sell movie tickets and that’s their overall goal.” During Joe’s debacle the Wagner brothers had taken out large ads in most every magazine, and therefore the magazines had put out double-page spreads about Rita. Full of lies about her wonderful marriage to her then husband. If they’d been truthful, it would have mentioned her love of drinking and extramarital affairs.
He hadn’t been able to afford to put out that sort of advertising, not even to clear Joe’s name. Not that it would have mattered. Joe had already left town by the time the magazines hit the newsstands.
“Rita is very pretty.”
“Yes, she is.” He’d never protest that, but next to Helen, Rita looked like any other of the million Janes in Hollywood. Wearing that purple dress and perched on the edge of the stool next to the bar, Helen had outshone all the dames that had been at the party. She still did. He still wanted her, too. The desire was growing stronger by the minute.
“Has she ever been in one of your movies?”
He stood and casually shook one leg, attempting to loosen how tight his pants had become. “No. She’s the Wagner brother’s bread and butter. Has been for a long time.” Gesturing toward the darkness outside of the window with one hand, he said, “It’s late.”
“I’m sorry,” she said while rising off the chair.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
A hint of a smile crept across her face as she smoothed back the hair at one temple. “I didn’t mean to keep you up so late. I just...” She shrugged.
“Just what?”
“Wanted to say thank you for this evening. It was fun.”
“It was.” He told his feet to stay put. To not take a step closer to her. That would be trouble. But she was looking at him and he couldn’t pull his eyes away. His hands itched to caress the side of her face. Her shoulder. Her side. Feel the curves of her beneath the dress as he had earlier, while dancing.
“Well, um, good night, Jack.”
She hadn’t taken a step, nor had she pulled her eyes off him. It was a struggle, but he finally managed to look the other way. “Good night, Helen.”
Chapter Thirteen
Helen couldn’t sleep. Her mind wouldn’t shut down. Images of dancing with Jack played over and over again. She’d never felt as alive as she had while dancing with him. She kept trying to think logically. To tell herself that she’d been careless going out like she had, and enjoying herself. Someone could have seen her. Logic, however, couldn’t be found. Not tonight.
Tonight, she didn’t care if her family was the mob, or if they were looking for her. All she could think about was how it had felt to laugh, to dance, to be a normal person. Or as close to normal as she could imagine. That was hard because she’d never been normal. She’d been secluded, either in her parents’ house or the private school they’d sent her to, where she’d also been taught to speak only when spoken to, seen only when requested.
That angered her in ways it never had before. Yet, it shouldn’t, for in a way it had prepared her for the last two years. Of living in hiding. Not being seen or heard.
Tonight showed her how much she’d been missing. She’d never have discovered that if not for Jack. He was the reason she went out tonight. Beverly had said he needed to be at that party and people there had been genuinely happy to see him, some had even acted surprised. She’d seen how hard he was working to make this movie, get it finished by the deadline. He tried to hide it. Never said a word about the issues he’d faced during the day, but she’d seen the weariness on his face when he came home each night, and inside knew how much this movie meant to him. She’d had to put her fears aside to make sure he went tonight, and in the process, found out she was tired too, so very tired of the life she’d always known.
When Grace stirred, Helen climbed out of bed, certain she hadn’t slept a wink, yet must have because daylight was shining outside the window.
She quickly put on one of her brown dresses and changed Grace before picking her up and carrying her to the door.
Heat filled her cheeks at the sight of Jack standing near the sofa wearing only his pants and holding a cup of coffee. His bare chest was defined, so sculpted by the muscles beneath his golden skin. Warmth pooled inside her, much like it had in the car last night when she’d thought he was going to kiss her.
“Morning,” he said brightly. “Coffee is done and I put a bottle from the fridge in a pot of warm water for Grace.”
“Th-thank you.” She bit her lips at how her words stumbled. Her feet might too. She’d recognized how handsome he was before, but this morning, it was all she could think about. That and how he was looking at her, like he couldn’t pull his eyes off her any more than she could take hers from him. She’d felt that before, the pull that drew them together when he watched her, especially when he thought she wasn’t looking. It affected her in mysterious ways. Ways she couldn’t explain.
“I have to get ready to head to the studio.” He set his cup on the table. “And I’m sure Grace will want to drink that bottle.”
Once he was out of sight, Helen found the ability to walk into the kitchen and feed Grace. Afterward, she was even able to fry Jack some eggs and wish him a good day. But as soon as he walked out the door, she plopped down on the sofa, nearly exhausted. Why did just looking at him leave her breathless? What was wrong with her? More apt, what had she gotten herself into?
She glanced at Grace, lying on a blanket on the floor and playing with her toes. He had been s
o good to both of them these past weeks. Had provided everything, and more, that they needed. It was only right that she should care about him, want him to succeed, but deep inside, she knew it had become more than that.
That alone should be enough to make her want to get away. Need to get away. But it didn’t. This time, she wanted to stay and help. She’d never felt that way before.
She shot to her feet as the doorknob turned.
Jack opened the door and stepped in.
Once again, the sight of him had her heart racing.
“I walked over to the newsstand and picked these up for you.”
She carefully stepped around Grace and took the magazines from his hand.
His grin showed his dimple. “You might recognize a few people from the party last night.” He then winked and turned about. “See you tonight.”
“See you tonight,” she repeated, and then, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He shut the door and she glanced down at the magazines. They were all about movies, and movie stars. She carried them to the couch and read all three of them from cover to cover, recognizing several people she’d seen last night.
The articles were interesting. She liked the ones about filmmaking more than the ones about movie stars. However, the ads in the back of the magazine were what really caught her attention and sent her mind spinning. She had no idea so many people needed typists. One of the addresses of those seeking help was on the same street as the apartment building, only a few blocks away.
She let several thoughts ferment while getting the house in order and changing her clothes, putting on another new dress Beverly had purchased for her. A light blue one, with polka dots and matching hat.
Pressing a hand to the butterflies in her stomach, she turned away from the mirror. Jack needed help, and this was a way she could provide it.
Even though her mind was made up, she was still nervous and scared, but also determined not to let that rule her, or stop her.
She carried the buggy down the stairway and then hurried back up and collected Grace from the crib. After tucking the magazine next to the baby inside the buggy, she left the apartment building.
Her legs trembled as she walked the first block and she couldn’t stop herself from sneaking peeks around her, making sure she wasn’t being followed. The number of people was a bit overwhelming, not only in cars driving by, but also in how many walked along the street, in and out of the many buildings.
It would be nearly impossible to recognize anyone. There was too much hustle and bustle. That eased her nerves and she focused on the addresses, searching for the one listed.
She found it in the middle of the fifth block down from Jack’s apartment building. Pushing open the tall glass door with her backside, she tugged the buggy inside, and then twisted about.
“May I help you?” a woman behind a tall counter asked.
Helen pushed the buggy closer and then lifted out the magazine. Pointing to the ad, she said, “I’d like to speak with someone concerning this typist job.”
The woman’s dark black hair was cut short, and her beaded earrings softly clinked as she leaned over the counter to look at the ad. “That is the third floor, suite ten. The elevator is down this first hall.”
“Thank you.” Helen tucked the magazine back in the buggy and followed the hallway to the elevator.
A man helped her maneuver the buggy into the small area and then stepped in beside them and pulled a cage shut. “What floor?”
“Three, please.” Helen held her breath as the elevator shook and creaked before it carried them upward. She’d never liked riding in them whenever she’d gone shopping with her mother. A knot unfurled inside her chest, spewing a sense of warmth. That was the first time that had happened when she’d thought of her mother, of any of her family, in a long time. Other than the elevator rides, she’d enjoyed the shopping trips with Mother. In fact, there had been many things that she’d enjoyed doing with her family. It hadn’t all been bad. Why hadn’t she remembered that before now?
“What suite?” the man asked.
“Ten,” Helen responded.
“Just down the hall on the left,” he said, while opening the cage door. He then helped her get the buggy out of the elevator.
“Thank you,” Helen said, checking on Grace, who was still sleeping soundly.
He nodded and stepped back into the elevator.
Helen pushed the buggy past several doors until arriving at the one she sought. She took a deep breath, and then pushed open the door.
The posters on the wall had her pausing even before the door was all the way open. They were smaller versions of the ones in the magazines, of movies, actors and actresses.
“May I help you?”
Another woman, this one with short blond hair, smiled at her from behind a desk.
Helen maneuvered the buggy through the door and then lifted out the magazine. “I’m here about the typist job in this ad.”
The woman glanced at the buggy. “You brought your baby to a job interview?”
She’d thought about that, but hadn’t had a choice. Lifting her head, determined nothing was going to prevent her from helping Jack, Helen said, “Yes.”
The woman grinned slightly. “I see, well, Mr. Alfords isn’t available right now, but I can take your information and have him contact you.”
“I’d appreciate that.” Helen reached into her purse and pulled out the certificate she’d been so excited about earning years ago. “I have completed a secretarial course.”
* * *
Jack pinched both temples with one hand. Just one day without any issues. Just one. Would that be too much to ask? To expect?
“How much did you get on film?”
Ace Wilson shook his head. “None.”
Jack clenched his back teeth, giving himself a moment to control his response. “None?”
“No, sir, not sure what happened. I’m sorry.”
Three hours of filming gone. Gone. “It wasn’t your fault.” Jack nodded at Newton. “We’ll have to start over.”
“All right.” Newton spun around and shouted, “Bring back the other backdrop! Get rid of this one!”
“We still have to film three other scenes today,” Jack said. “You know the schedule we’re on.”
“I do,” Newton said. “We all do. We’ll film all night if needed.”
If there was a silver lining in this movie, it was his crew. They were all willing to do whatever it took to get the job done. He slapped Newton’s back. “Thanks.” Then he hurried over to help move out the backdrop and bring in the other one.
The cameras worked this round, and other than a few small prop issues, they were able to complete shooting on all of the scenes scheduled for the day.
“That’s a wrap!” Newton shouted. “Go home folks, and be back here bright and early tomorrow morning!”
Jack checked his watch. It was almost ten. He’d asked Beverly to stop by and let Helen know he would be late getting home tonight. He’d never done that before, but she’d been on his mind all day. That wasn’t unusual, either.
However, it would be later than usual by the time he got home. There was still at least an hour’s worth of work he had to complete before he could leave.
He was deep into the midst of getting everything done, when he sensed someone in the hallway outside his door. Lifting his head, he waited for them to walk in. The door was open.
The hair on the back of his neck stood. Newton, who had also stayed late, had already stuck his head in and said good-night.
Jack waited, staring at the door for a few seconds, and then pushed away from the desk. “Who’s there?”
Two men, first one and then the other, big and bulky, both strangers, stepped around the doorframe and into his office. Dressed complet
ely in black, including their fedora hats, they scanned the room before moving closer.
“Who are you?” That was a foolish question. He’d never dealt with a mobster before, there had never been a need, but he recognized that’s what these two men were. The Broadbents liked to believe they were mobsters, but they were wannabes. These two were the real McCoys.
“The boss is in town from Chicago,” the front man said. The taller of the two. “He wants to know that you’ll be at the party tomorrow night.”
The money behind the new studio was from the Chicago Outfit, so he assumed that’s who these men were with as well. So far, he’d met only those running the operation here in California. They weren’t gangsters, they were movie men who had needed backing to start their new venture. “I’ve been told about the party, and plan on attending.”
“You had a woman with you last night, wearing a purple dress.”
Jack’s spine stiffened. “So what if I did?”
“Bring her with you.”
Helen had already agreed to go with him, now he was having second thoughts. “Why? She doesn’t have anything to do with this movie.” He needed this movie, but didn’t need to drag Helen into something sinister.
“Bring her.” They both turned, headed for the door.
“No.” There wasn’t a movie on earth worth Helen.
The tallest one pivoted on his heel, leveled a steely stare. “You won’t want to disappoint the boss, Mr. McCarney. He won’t like that.”
Jack wanted to say he didn’t care, but the truth was, if they knew Helen had been with him at the party, they also knew where she was right now. And where she’d be tomorrow night. Still, he couldn’t let them think he’d bow to their antics. “You can tell the boss that this isn’t Chicago.”
“You can tell him yourself.” The man turned and walked to the door. There, he looked over his shoulder. “Tomorrow night.”
Jack followed them out the door and down the hall. There wasn’t anything he could say, or do. Nothing that he could think of at the moment anyway. But he would.
Baby On His Hollywood Doorstep (Brides 0f The Roaring Twenties Book 1) Page 15