Just then, Stroheim and his assistant emerged from another part of the building. Jack shook, and wished he could run away and never come back. Making movies no longer seemed like an exciting game where you got to run around dressed in marvellous costumes and pretend to go on fantastic adventures. Would he ever be good enough in these important men’s eyes?
“What the hell is going on at my set? Huh? Who attacked this boy? This dummkopf? Why is he still here? Throw him out. I am done with him!”
Stroheim turned to Jack. He squinted at him through his monocle.
“Jealousy. Envy. Horrible things. You have what he can never have. But I shall once I have filmed you. Now go and get changed.”
Words refused to come out of Jack’s mouth. He merely nodded, and went back through the side door he had originally escaped from. He had absolutely no idea what Stroheim was talking about.
* * * *
A private invitation perhaps? Or I could show up at one of his filmings—a happy accident?
Roman was in the process of driving himself crazy whilst twirling a lily in between his thumb and forefinger. He loved the fresh flowers that bloomed all throughout his estate—one of the many luxuries in which he indulged completely. He was oiled from head to toe, and reclining on a fluffy lounge chair by the pool, wearing only the bottom half of his white swimming costume. He heard footsteps approaching and resisted the urge to smash his Martini glass to the ground.
I expressly asked not to be disturbed. Do these people not appreciate the ridiculous amount of money I pay them?
A shadow loomed over him, blocking his sunlight.
“Excuse me, sir, I thought you might want to see the young lady.”
It was Hector, his valet, of all people.
Has he completely lost his mind? Why would I want to see a young lady?
“Roman! You naughty man, lying out here in your unmentionables!”
Oh God. Her.
Roman lifted his sunglasses to look at the typically overdressed Trixie Fox. He dropped them back on the bridge of his nose, and waved Hector away.
“My dearest Trixie. What a delightful surprise.”
Without moving from his reclining position, he indicated with another wave for Trixie to come and sit by him on the other lounge chair. As she was enveloped in chiffon, feathers and long pearls, she didn’t even attempt to lie back, but wisely stayed seated upright, facing him.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?”
He had little patience with her after the personal delivery of his note had not produced what he sought—the presence of Jack Stone in his home.
“Well, I was feelin’ awful bad about Jack not coming to your dinner shindig last week. I tried, Roman, I really did. But he’s been terribly upset ever since his boyfriend Nick up and left him.”
Roman sat straight up, dropped the flower he’d been toying with and snapped his fingers. Within moments, one of his attendants was at his side.
“Sir?”
“The lady would like a drink. What will you have, Miss Fox?”
“Oh Roman, always such a proper gentleman. But call me Trixie. You know, cuz we’re all at the same studio now and all.”
Roman tried for an endearing smile, but even he wasn’t that accomplished an actor. She would have to settle for what he was able to muster. She giggled.
“I would like a Brandy Smash, if it’s not too much trouble, that is.”
“Not at all.”
“And for you, sir?”
“Another Martini.”
After the slightly built, olive-skinned man had left to get their drinks, Roman focused on his guest. She was fussing with her hair and looking in a cosmetic mirror she had pulled from her beaded bag. The night of the Global Studios party when he’d first seen the golden-haired boy, he’d had the chance to question Trixie about him. After the beautiful young man had fled his estate, he had been consumed with the need to find out who he was. He had questioned his valet Hector, and discovered that he had arrived with the woman who now sat before him. She had been full of all sorts of interesting information about him. Besides giving Roman his name and address, she had also shared that he had someone he was in love with—a Nick—and that fact had been troubling Roman ever since. He had been sure that this Nick person had been the reason that Jack had turned down his personal dinner party invitation. Otherwise, it didn’t make sense. Trixie had also told him that Roman was Jack’s favourite film star, so wouldn’t he have been thrilled to get an invite?
“So, my dear. You were saying?”
“Huh?”
Deep breath, Roman. Deep breath.
“Jack’s been upset ever since Nick left…”
The name Nick left a bad taste on his tongue. He hoped to never utter it again.
“Oh yeah, silly me! So, anyway, that’s why he didn’t show up.”
“Go on…”
“Well…” She looked around nervously. “That’s it.”
Roman smoothed down his black hair and rubbed his hands together. He needed a new approach with this ditzy broad.
“My dear, I don’t want to take up your precious time, but I was hoping you could do me a favour.”
“Of course, Roman. You know I just adore you! Anythin’ you want, sweetie, anythin’ at all.”
“You are much too kind. What is Jack doing now?”
“Oh he’s over at Global shootin’. He’s got a coupla scenes or somethin’.”
The attendant returned with their drinks, and Roman waited as patiently as he could for his servant to leave.
Trixie took a noisy sip from her glass. “Ooh, you got the good stuff here!”
Roman took a generous swallow of his drink for fortification. “Remember how I asked you to be discreet? I don’t want Jack to know that I’ve discovered anything about him. I want to be the one to reveal that to him when I’m ready. He is such a shy creature, so easily frightened off.”
It had been quite obvious to Roman the night of the studio party when he’d first seen Jack. He radiated a male beauty that Roman unusually found enticing. There was an innocence to him that Roman longed to possess, to hold dear. There had never been any innocence for Roman—even before he had adopted the invented name he now carried. Too many things had happened to him at too young an age to allow any goodness to shine through. Jack Stone could be that one good thing.
Roman downed the rest of his drink. What had happened to him was a long time ago, when he was another person. It didn’t matter anymore. But Jack Stone did. This young man would surely be different from all the sycophants who threw themselves at him, he could feel it. Jack had the potential to be the one he had always searched for. His soul, his other half.
“What can I help you with, Roman?”
“Tell me more about what happened with…the boyfriend.”
“That night after your party, he came back and Nick was gone. Just like that. Took all his stuff and left. No note or nothin’. I say Jack’s better off without him.
I would say the same thing too.
“So, you think he didn’t accept my invitation because he’s nursing a broken heart? Poor boy.”
“Yup. Such a shame.”
“I was thinking, my dear Trixie, you mentioned he’s been filming at Global?”
“Oh yeah. He’s there today workin’ on a Stroheim film. It’s just a few scenes, but he’s goin’ to lunch tomorrow with Goldstein and the big bosses.” She leaned in to say the next part as if they were in a crowded room. “Between you and me, I think they’re gonna offer him a contract.”
“Of course they are. They would be stupid not to. And where exactly is this luncheon taking place?”
“Jack said they was goin’ to Musso & Frank’s, the usual joint.”
“Time?”
“Huh?”
Don’t roll your eyes.
“At what time will they be dining?”
Trixie let loose one of her high-pitched laughs. “Sorry! I don’t know where my head is som
etimes. I think he said noon or thereabouts.”
Close enough.
“Excellent. Remember, lips are sealed.”
“Mine are absolutely glued shut, Roman, absolutely.”
If only…
“If you don’t mind, I shall take my leave. The sun is positively dreadful today. Will this drought never end?”
“Oh I know, I know. It’s just awful.”
Roman bent over and took her hand. He placed his lips lightly on her fingers. “Good day to you then.”
She giggled once more. “And to you too, Roman, you too.”
He didn’t look back, only forward to the stairs leading to his large master suite, and his sanctuary. He had less than twenty-four hours before he would get to see Jack Stone again, and he had to prepare. There had to be a way to get his attention, and keep it. Once he did, Jack would forget that anyone named Nick had ever existed.
Chapter Three
“I dunno know, Jack. I liked the pinstripe better.”
Trixie was helping Jack get ready for his big studio luncheon, and, as was always the case when he was in new situations, he couldn’t keep his nerves under control. He hated that he had to do this on his own, just like everything else lately. If Nick was just going to dump him all along, he should have helped him stand on his own first.
Just recently there had been times where Jack couldn’t decide whether he was crushed by despair at the loss of Nick, or wanted to punch him in the face for leaving him the way he had. There had never been a time in his life where Jack had been that close to someone. Nothing in his upbringing had prepared him for the enormity of loving so deeply, then losing it so abruptly.
He considered his form in Trixie’s full-length mirror. They were in her bedroom with all of his clothing choices spread out everywhere. They were draped across her pink satin comforter on the bed, a few more over her ivory-coloured velvet chaise longue, and the shoe options were lined up like little soldiers just outside of her closet on the dark wood floor of her room. Jack had been sleeping on the large throw pillows out in the main area of her cosy apartment—the love seat had been too small, even for him.
But he still loved the view from her place most of all. It was heaven to sit out there on the small balcony of her hillside corner apartment, and look at the city lights, feel the occasional breeze and listen to the foot traffic below. He wished he could be out there now, and skip this whole meeting.
“No Trixie. This is the one. I want to start out lookin’ more refined—less gangster.”
“Ya mean like Roman Pasquale?” She batted her lashes at him.
Jack squinted his eyes and gave her a snotty look.
“Okay. Refined it is, Mr Hoity Toity. But please wear this hat. I just adore it!”
“Geez, I don’t know Trixie. The black satin ribbon is fine, but I’m not so sure about this little feather thing attached to the bow. Are you sure it won’t make me look…well…”
“No, honey. It will not make ya look gay. All the most distinguished gentlemen are wearin’ bowler hats with a little extra pizzazz. It’s not too much, I promise. Ya gotta get used to this stuff sweetie. Your fans will want ya to be all gussied up for them.”
Just a few months before, Jack could never have imagined he would be wearing a fancy suit, let alone a wool hat with a ribbon and little feather on it. His old grey newsboy cap was all he’d ever had. Being with a film star flapper in her bedroom, with Nick nowhere in sight, went well beyond anything he could have ever dreamt up on his own. He sighed.
Trixie sprang from where she’d been perched on her vanity stool, and wagged her finger at him.
“Oh no. Don’t ya dare. I know that moonin’ over Nick look, and I’m just about ready to smack it right offa your face! This is your big chance. Don’t ya let him ruin it for ya.”
“I won’t. But you can’t expect me to just forget about him in a couple of weeks. He was everythin’ to me for over three years. I wish I could have him be here and experience all of this with me, share it with him.”
“Honey, listen to yourself. He hated it. He didn’t like none a this fancy, high–falutin’ stuff. And he didn’t understand all the meetins and parties and other stuff ya have to do to be a star. And ya hadn’t even got that far yet. Can ya imagine how much he would hate it now? No, yous are both better off. This type a thing is for you, it wasn’t for him. He was a regular guy who liked to work hard durin’ the day and knock back a few gins at night. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, but it ain’t you. Remember, you’re that comet that streaks across the sky that makes everyone gasp in wonder.”
“Geez, Trixie. You should write poetry or somethin’.”
Trixie giggled. “I got deep feelins too Jack, you’re not the only one.”
“Oh I know. I guess I don’t see myself the way you say others do. I’m that regular guy too. Nick and I always had a great time together. I was never bored or wantin’ anythin’ else.”
“Except when ya got to Hollywood, and ya wanted to be a part of all the excitement, right?”
Jack hung his head. It was true. He’d only wanted to be around it originally, not in it.
“It’s my fault for drivin’ Nick away. I’ve been mad at him lately for leavin’ me, but I’m the one that did it. I ruined everythin’.”
Trixie stood and came over to Jack. She grabbed both of his hands in hers.
“No ya didn’t, honey. It was just time, that’s all. You and Nick had a beautiful thing, I saw it. But people change. Now, he can go do what makes him happy, and you can go do what makes you happy, ya see?” She squeezed his hands and let go. “Now let’s decide which handkerchief to use. I say the red one.”
Jack looked in the mirror at the sophisticated guy staring back—except he seemed more like a kid playing at dress-up than a man about town. It was strange how his life had changed so much, so quickly. Even though he had been thrilled at the thought of being around his favourite stars, and getting a chance to be on a movie set—he would give it all up just to be back on Broadway building sets with Nick.
That was when I was happy.
* * * *
Juan, his chauffeur, was taking forever to bring the car around. Roman had decided on the baby blue Rolls-Royce for the afternoon. He hadn’t the slightest idea what Jack’s favourite colour was, but that piece of information, and any other details he could prise loose from the addle-brained Trixie Fox, was next on his agenda. After mulling over his little conversation with Trixie, it was clear to him that she could be a great ally in his cause. He was sure that all it would take were some invites to exclusive get-togethers to help increase her star quotient, and she would be more than happy to share anything with him.
Roman fussed with his platinum and onyx cufflinks. He was wearing his trademark white for summer—his hair slicked back in a severe style. His thin moustache had been carefully trimmed that morning, and he kept the sun out of his eyes with a Carlsbad style white hat that had a slightly curled brim. The hat was trimmed with a grosgrain band and bow to complement the cufflinks, and that, along with his black etched Bakelite buttons, completed the outfit.
At last, Juan pulled up on the gravel driveway. Hector—ever at the ready—stepped forward and opened the door for Roman. He put one foot on the running board and placed a white gloved hand on the door frame to hoist himself in. Once he’d settled on the blue leather back seat that perfectly matched the outside, he checked his kid leather gloves for any grime. It was important that his cars were kept spotless and dirt free at all times. Especially when he went out in white. He spread his fingers to check both sides, and noted that his hands trembled slightly.
I am a lovesick fool.
It was rare for Roman to pursue a man’s affection, and when he did, it was more of a game than anything. This went way beyond that. He needed to be sure he didn’t do something rash. Roman had been rehearsing in his mind just how he would insert himself into the Global Studios meeting with Jack. Surely, the studio heads wouldn’t
ignore their biggest star. But how to get Jack alone? That had been the one issue plaguing him ever since he’d decided to show up unannounced.
They arrived at the Musso & Frank Grill precisely at noon, and pulled into the rear parking lot where he preferred to enter. His driver opened his door, and Roman stepped out. He did a quick perusal of the lot, and was sure he spotted Goldstein’s Cadillac. If the gods were really on his side, then everyone would be seated already, and he could make a grand entrance.
Action.
He pulled his gloves free from his hand one finger at a time, as he trod down the two steps that led to the back entrance. He folded them neatly, and let them hang from his jacket pocket. The host opened the door for him, and he was ushered into the darkened restaurant. It was cordoned off into two sections. There was a main dining area that also had counter seating, and a smaller section for more private gatherings. That was where they would most likely be meeting, taking over one of the half-moon-shaped brown leather booths.
Trying to ignore the rapid beating of his heart, Roman removed his hat, handed it to the maître d’ and told him that he would prefer the back area. Roman always carried himself in a way that silently announced to the room that he had arrived, and that everyone should stop what they were doing to observe him. With his chin slightly tipped up, shoulders back and a confident but graceful gait, he was able to awe any spectators. And being a little over six feet with a trim form, it was easy to accomplish.
As he followed the maître d’, he immediately spied his prey. The thought had crossed Roman’s mind that were he to see the object of his affection again, he might be disappointed—the spell might be broken and his lovely boy would be just like every other young hopeful who had pleasured him over the years. However, that was not the case at all. His heart accelerated even more, and he was actually concerned that he might become dizzy and make a complete idiot of himself. But he regained his composure quickly when both Jack and Goldstein spotted him heading their way.
Razzle Dazzle Page 3