Starlight

by Alexandra Richland

  “That’s pretty keen,” Marie said, playing along. She was about to ask Diane for more details, but by this point, her co-worker was staring off into the distance, most likely daydreaming of bedding Tyrone Power.

  “Excuse me, Miss. I need some cigarettes. Today, if you don’t mind.”

  Marie focused her attention on the balding, middle-aged man standing on the other side of the counter, anxiously awaiting her service. His brown tweed suit struggled to contain his wide girth and he patted his forehead with a handkerchief.

  She smiled. “I’m terribly sorry about the wait. What kind would you like?”

  “A carton of Chesterfield Lights,” he said sharply.

  Diane murmured something about Tyrone Power and Chesterfields as Marie retrieved the customer’s carton from one of the dark wooden shelves that ran along the wall. As she turned to face the counter again, the carton slipped from her hand. She tried to catch it in mid-air, but with no success. It fell to the floor with a smack and memories of her first shift at Schwab’s came rushing back to her. At least it wasn’t a soda this time.

  Marie did her best curtsy, attempting to retrieve the carton as gracefully as possible, and then rang up the man’s purchase at the register.

  “That will be one dollar and twenty-five cents, sir.”

  The customer threw his money onto the counter, snatched his carton, and bolted toward the door.

  The remainder of Marie’s shift consisted of more cigarettes, milkshakes, and sodas, and alas, no Tyrone Power. By the time she entered the employee lounge just after five o’clock, her attempt at a mid-afternoon bun had come loose and her hair looked frizzy. The lip gloss she put on in the morning was long gone, and her cheeks flushed from the bright lights and continuous onslaught of customers.

  As Marie hung her apron inside her locker, Diane asked her to come out that evening to Leo’s, a popular, nearby diner. During lunch, Diane had flirted with some assistant to an assistant of an assistant of some script editor, who ended up inviting her out with him and his friends for dinner. Diane wanted Marie to come along so she would have a friend in the group.

  While Diane rarely turned down an invitation to a good social outing, Marie was more interested in retiring to her apartment, getting off her feet after her long day, and listening to a radio program. After politely declining Diane’s offer, she put on her camel trapeze coat and headed home.

  Chapter Two

  The apartment complex Marie lived in with Olivia consisted of four floors. It was an older structure with a cracked, yellow concrete exterior, red tiled roof, and a central, outdoor rectangular swimming pool, which was available to all tenants. Marie and Olivia resided on the second level in a two bedroom, one bathroom unit. The small dwelling wasn’t the Beverly Hills Hotel, but it was cheap, in a central location, and it did not have any pest problems.

  Marie unlocked the door to their apartment and was greeted by the familiar smell of stale air. She dropped her coat, keys, and purse onto the table in the foyer and walked into the living room, where she took a seat on one of the two floral couches Olivia found on the curb in front of a house in Bel Air.

  Olivia had convinced some young men from campus to transport the couches over to their apartment. Upon their arrival, she insisted to Marie that even though they couldn’t afford high class items that didn’t mean they couldn’t have high class ambitions.

  They didn’t own a television, but Marie had brought her radio with her from Clarkson, which she perched on top of the telephone table in the corner of the living room. Unfortunately, record players were also out of their budget, so their in-house entertainment came solely from that small radio. Marie enjoyed listening to music or radio programs when Olivia had late classes or an evening shift at work because the apartment seemed too quiet without her.

  “Liv!” Marie called.

  Olivia bounded out of her bedroom. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come in. I was looking over one of my sketches.” She clasped her hands to her chest, her gray eyes twinkling. “One day, everyone in Hollywood will be wearing my unique designs, I swear.”

  Marie smiled. Unique was right, especially Olivia’s daring, vivid color combinations. Tonight, she wore pink pedal pushers and a bright yellow wool sweater, complemented by her short, raven-black hair, which accentuated her heart-shaped face and flawless, creamy complexion.

  While Diane put a lot of effort into her Ava Gardner look, Olivia did a much better job of pulling off a movie star appearance without even trying. She possessed a natural talent for putting together outfits, styling hair, and makeup application. It made sense she was taking fashion design in school.

  Olivia took a seat next to Marie on the couch. “So, any celebrity sightings at work today?”

  Marie laughed. Olivia asked the same question every day.

  “No, not today. The brother of Gary Cooper’s driver came in, but that’s it. Although, apparently, Tyrone Power came in yesterday.”

  “Whoopee, Tyrone Power.” Olivia circled her forefinger in the air unenthusiastically. “He’s too old. What about Marlon Brando or Cornel Wilde?” Her pink-painted lips formed a pout. “Or heck, even Van Johnson.”

  Marie shook her head, smiling. “Nope, sorry. Maybe tomorrow.”

  “Marie, you have to find us movie star husbands at Schwab’s so we can get out of this place.” Olivia’s eyebrows drew together. “But wait, that wouldn’t work because then I would miss you as my roommate.”

  Marie rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, if Marlon Brando asked you to run away with him, you would leave me in a second.”

  Olivia gaped in mock surprise. “I most certainly would not.”

  Marie giggled.

  “I would ask you to move in as my maid or something,” Olivia added in jest.

  Marie grabbed a small pillow off the couch and tossed it at her friend in playful protest. “Thanks, Liv. You’re such a great friend.”

  Olivia stood up and extended her hand in greeting to an imaginary acquaintance. “Hi, I’m Olivia Brando.” She collapsed back onto the couch in a fit of giggles. “It has a nice ring to it!”

  Marie joined in her friend’s laughter.

  The two of them spent the remainder of the evening talking about the latest Hollywood gossip, Olivia’s newest designs for school, and all of the handsome young men she came across on campus that day. They flipped through the current issues of Look and Photoplay, and then decided to hit the hay. Marie retired to her bedroom at ten o’clock and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

  Chapter Three

  On Fridays, Marie’s shift always started at eleven o’clock because the manager needed her to work until seven and cover the dinner crowd. As she stepped behind the counter, she almost ran right smack into Diane. Her co-worker’s eyes danced with excitement, which only meant one thing.

  “You missed Debbie Reynolds this morning! Goodness, she is such a sweetheart. She’s shorter in real life than I thought, even prettier than she looks on screen, and she was just a dear to all the staff and customers. She came in to have a soda before heading to the studio. Did you know she’s making another movie with Donald O’Connor? Gee, I just loved her in Singin’ in the Rain…”

  Marie listened patiently as Diane shared all of the details of the encounter. She smiled at her co-worker and nodded when applicable until the bells above the doors chimed, drawing her attention over Diane’s shoulder.

  Recognizing their new visitor straight away, Marie knew Diane was about to focus her energy away from Debbie Reynolds. If there was one thing Diane liked more than famous actresses, it was famous actors, and one of the most famous of them all had just entered Schwab’s Pharmacy.

  Robert Mitchum.

  Murmurs erupted throughout the drugstore as the patrons recognized the actor. When Diane spotted him, she stopped in mid-sentence and gaped. Generally, Marie didn’t get excited when movie stars came into Schwab’s. She tried to avoid them and let Diane or one of the other employees serv
e them. After all, her co-workers were the ones who wanted to break into the movie business, so it made sense for them to hobnob with Hollywood’s elite. Besides, Marie didn’t feel she fit in with the studio types, anyway.

  Dressed in a dark gray suit, matching fedora, and a crisp white shirt, Mr. Mitchum made his way through the lunch crowd, shaking hands and shouting greetings across the busy room. Unfortunately, he tossed his fedora onto the counter and sat down on the empty stool right in front of Marie, ignoring Diane’s eager smile.

  “Hey there, kid,” he said in his husky leading man voice.

  Marie stared into Mr. Mitchum’s seductive hazel eyes. Then she glanced at the trademark dimple in his chin.

  Mr. Mitchum cleared his throat. “Kid?”

  He placed his forefinger under her chin and lifted her head so she met his gaze again. Marie’s cheeks turned red as she came to her senses.

  “Yes, sir. Uh, Mr. Mitchum, sir.” Her stammer was out of character for her in the presence of movie stars.

  “Relax, kid, I’m only here for a Coke.” He folded his arms on the countertop, his eyes shining with amusement. “What a cute kid you are, all nervous. A Coke, that’s all I want. Can you get that for me?”

  Marie nodded, embarrassed that everyone in the establishment had focused on her and Mr. Mitchum. Well, most likely Mr. Mitchum, but she was sure her red complexion earned her a few stares, too.

  Diane nudged Marie in the ribs and handed over a bottle of Coke. Grateful for the help, Marie slid the drink along the counter to her famous customer.

  “That will be, uh, ten cents, Mr. Mitchum, uh, sir.” She cringed inwardly at how ridiculous she sounded.

  Mr. Mitchum nodded. “Sure thing, kid.”

  He flipped a dime off his thumbnail. It landed on the counter and spun wildly before coming to rest in front of her. She grabbed the money and walked to the register to ring up his purchase.

  “And kid…”

  Marie faced Mr. Mitchum again, fearing the worst.

  He flashed a charming grin. “It’s Bob. None of this Mr. Mitchum, sir, stuff, okay?”

  Marie forced a smile. “Uh, yes, Mr. Mitch––uh, Bob.” Her cheeks flamed. She wished that she could disappear.

  Mr. Mitchum stood, Coke bottle in hand. The crowd parted for him as he made his way toward the door, saying his good-byes. The bells above the front door chimed and then he was gone.

  Diane gripped Marie’s elbow and led her along the counter, out of earshot of the customers.

  “He said you could call him Bob!” she whispered excitedly

  Marie didn’t know what had come over her. Normally, she handled every customer just fine, but Robert Mitchum entered Schwab’s and she completely lost her ability to do a simple thing like get him a Coke.

  She sighed. “I acted ridiculously.”

  Diane waved her off. “You just need more practice, that’s all. You can’t avoid the celebrity customers all the time like you usually do because when something unexpected like this comes up, you don’t know how to operate. I, on the other hand, am used to serving movie stars here, so for me, it was nothing, really.”

  Marie held back a laugh. Diane’s mouth had hung open just as much as hers did. Regardless, her co-worker was right. She was going to have to learn how to interact with celebrities if she expected to stay at Schwab’s a while longer. She couldn’t avoid them forever because more situations like this one might arise, where she must serve them.

  “Girls, it’s peak lunch time,” Wade Henley called from the other end of the counter. “Can you please help me serve some customers?”

  Wade was another employee at Schwab’s, a seasoned pro with six years behind the counter. He was hired at the age of seventeen with hopes of breaking into the movie business, but after countless run-ins with celebrities without any luck, he told Marie perhaps he wasn’t destined for stardom, after all.

  Marie couldn’t understand why someone hadn’t discovered Wade yet. Not only was he conventionally handsome with his five-foot ten, slim frame, tanned skin, round, honey-colored eyes, and black pompadour-styled hair, he was outgoing and friendly as well, which made him a Schwab’s customer favorite. He also took acting lessons several nights a week with the utmost dedication, continuously working on perfecting his craft.

  Marie smiled. “Sorry, Wade.”

  A grin spread across his face. “I know you were busy making friends with Bob Mitchum, but now that he’s gone, I really could use some assistance.”

  A few customers seated along the counter snickered and Marie’s face heated up again. With a sigh, she walked toward Wade to serve more patrons, well aware she would never live the Mitchum incident down.

  A lean gentleman with a sun-kissed complexion, blond hair, and almond-shaped blue eyes sat on the stool Mr. Mitchum occupied earlier. He looked to be in his early twenties. He was very handsome in a clean-cut way, but dressed casually in a dark green button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and no tie. His dark gray fedora rested on the counter in front of him.

  Marie frowned as she caught the young man’s narrowed gaze. She was about to ask him if he wanted anything when he abruptly stood, grabbed his hat, and walked to the telephone booth near the front of the establishment.

  The perplexing way he stared at Marie before retreating unnerved her, even with the new distance between them. She assumed the young man had witnessed her Mr. Mitchum fiasco and was trying to figure out how a girl like her ever got a job here in the first place.

  As Marie served a tuna sandwich to an older gentleman, her eyes wandered over to the telephone booth. The young blond-haired man stared directly at her as he talked on the telephone.

  She blanched and dropped her gaze to the counter, hoping he wasn’t from some gossip rag and thinking of writing one of those celebrity encounter stories that were popular nowadays. She could just see the headline now:

  Mousey Schwab’s Counter Girl Fails To Get Coke For Heartthrob Robert Mitchum

  After wiping up a small spill on the counter, Marie was startled to discover the blond gentleman seated right in front of her again. He continued staring, and this time, she gathered the courage to speak up.

  “Good morning, sir. Can I get you something?”

  “Hello, ma’am,” he replied. “I witnessed your encounter with Bob Mitchum and was intrigued by the way you handled him.”

  Marie arched her eyebrows, unimpressed with the young man’s approach.

  “Well, Bob and I are old friends.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

  “Have you ever thought about getting into motion pictures?” The young man’s expression was serious, despite the ridiculousness of his question.

  Marie’s first thought was he was trying to trick her and make her a victim like the poor counter girl before her, Linda.

  “No, I want to become a schoolteacher. I moved to Los Angeles last fall and I’m trying to save up money for school.” She cringed as she concluded her explanation. She didn’t even know him, and here she was, practically giving him her life story.

  The young man shrugged. “That’s too bad, Marie, because I think that beyond your ponytail and smock there’s a June Allyson waiting to emerge.”

  Marie panicked, wondering how he knew her name. Then she remembered the nametag on her apron.

  He smiled and extended his hand. Marie hesitated before accepting his firm shake.

  “My name is Nathan Taggart,” he said with a mega-watt grin that seemed sincere. “I work for Mr. Luther J. Mertz at Starlight Motion Picture Studios and we’re always looking for fresh young women to come in and film screen tests.”

  Marie’s jaw dropped. “Starlight Studios. As in the Starlight Studios?”

  Mr. Taggart nodded. “The one and only.”

  Starlight Studios was the biggest motion picture studio in the world. The studio founder and boss, Luther Mertz, had all of the top stars signed under contract. Marie’s excitement vanished when she realized Mr. Taggart’s offer was
obviously a joke. Moreover, she had no interest in becoming a film star.

  “Well, Mr. Taggart, that sounds interesting,” she said dryly. “What are you, the third cousin twice removed from one of the janitors at Starlight Studios?”

  At the appearance of Mr. Taggart’s frown, Marie felt guilty.

  “Oh, gee, Mr. Taggart. I’m sorry,” she hastened to add, hoping to redeem herself. “But, you see, I just find it hard to believe a major motion picture studio would want to test me. I mean, look at me. I’m plain and shy, and well, quite frankly, there are many other girls in this town that would be better suited for your studio.”

  Mr. Taggart raised his hand, desiring to interrupt her.

  She persisted. “Anyway, I want to be a teacher, not a movie star. I wouldn’t want to waste your time, which is what will happen after you realize I’m nothing special—”

  “Please, Marie, may I say something?”

  She nodded.

  “First of all, a screen test doesn’t mean you’ll become a famous movie star,” he explained. “It just means that we style you up a little bit and determine if the camera likes you. If it does, then we begin by placing you in bit parts and see what happens from there. Many people don’t make it further than that.”

  Marie gulped. “Oh, I see.”

  “I’m not usually the one scouting future stars for Mr. Mertz,” Mr. Taggart continued, “but every so often I come across someone with potential and simply cannot ignore my gut feeling. I believe there is more to you than just a counter girl, and that you might very well be a great asset to the studio. Now, I could be wrong, and I’m not promising anything, but I must say my instincts are usually spot-on.”

  Marie blushed. Of course a screen test didn’t mean she would become a major motion picture star. Mr. Mertz probably had scouts searching for new talent all the time, delivering the same pitch to several women each day. The studio could get men like Mr. Taggart to bring in a bunch of young women for screen tests on a weekly basis, and if just one of them showed potential and worked out—even if only for a few films—it was a win-win situation for the studio.