Page 19 of His Girl Hollywood

“So, what, you decided keeping Frankie happy doesn’t matter anymore? That love is more important.” He regretted the words the moment he’d said them. How harsh they were. But he was angry still. For Mabel. For himself. Hell, even for Eleanor.

“I’m pregnant.” This pronouncement sent Eleanor into heaving sobs, and she flung herself onto the bedspread. Don had made a point of not touching that thing except to crawl under it and keep the sheet between him and the quilted fabric. The suspicious smell that emanated from it and the dark, dodgy stains across it were enough to convince him he didn’t want to cuddle up to it. Eleanormight have blindsided him with this visit, but she didn’t need to add diphtheria to her list of problems. “Eleanor, I don’t think you should—”

But his advice was interrupted by another wail. He knew by now that the only way to deal with Eleanor when she was in this state was to let her go until the tank was empty. So, he listened to her cry for another few minutes until she sniffed and sat up.

“Better?” She nodded her head yes, then shook it no. “Well, which is it?”

She fished a handkerchief from her handbag and dabbed at her eyes. She shrugged, not seeming to know the answer.

A thought occurred to him. Frankie had helped Eleanor out of a tight spot a few times before. She had never discussed it with Don. He’d only known because there had been the occasional canceled show when she was “under the weather.” Frankie had told Don one night what that really meant. Don had been asking for a favor and Frankie had thrown Eleanor’s abortions in his face. Told Don that Eleanor was willing to give up everything, even a baby, for their act. Maybe that was still the case. But if so, Don didn’t see how he could help. He was done giving things up for Lamont and Lester, the dancing duo. “You don’t want the baby, is that it?”

Eleanor shook her head fiercely. “No, I want this baby. I want this baby more than I’ve ever wanted anything. But Frankie is angry that I want to quit the act. He told Robert that the baby was yours. That you’d come to Hollywood because you were so jealous of me and Robert that you had to get away. He told Robert that since you’d abandoned me for Hollywood, I was trying to saddle Robert with another man’s child.”

“But that’s ridiculous!”

“I know that and you know that, but Robert doesn’t.” She started crying again. “He believed Frankie and went back upstatewithout me. Told me he needed some space. That I wasn’t the girl he thought I was.”

Boy, you sure aren’t the girl I thought you were either,Don thought. But he didn’t think speaking that thought aloud would be helpful right now. Instead, he kneeled in front of her by the bed and took her hands in his. “Why would he believe that, sugar? There’s nothing between us. There never has been.”

She looked down at him, her big blue eyes swimming in her tears. “Only us and Frankie know that’s the truth for real. Frankie spent a lot of time planting blind items about our hot dates and how we were crazy for each other, so what’s Robert supposed to believe?”

“I don’t know, he could try believing the woman he says he loves.” He squeezed her hand, trying to convey he was here for her. Until a few minutes ago, he’d believed Eleanor to be little better than a gangster’s moll and complicit in the attack on Mabel. Even knowing that wasn’t true, he still found her a royal pain in the ass. But that didn’t mean he wanted her trapped in Frankie’s clutches any more than he wanted to be stuck there himself. “Doesn’t Robert understand that by leaving you alone, he’s putting you and the baby in danger? That Frankie could hurt you, have one of his guys push you down a flight of stairs or something. Why would he leave you alone at a time like this?”

“Robert doesn’t know Frankie’s a gangster.”

Don gave her a disbelieving look. “The pin-striped suits and the crowd of tall guys with broken noses that surrounds Frankie at all times didn’t make Robert even a little bit suspicious?”

Eleanor looked peeved at Don’s attempt at levity. “You have to understand, Don, Robert doesn’t know any other show people. Hell, the night we met was the first and last time he went to the Stork Club. It’s what I love about him. He wants a simple life—awife, a kid, and lots of acres of land to build his dream house on. But now he says that maybe I am just too wild for him. That’s why he needs time to think.”

Don stood up and scratched the back of his head, going to look out the tiny, filthy window of his room. All that was below him was an alley, shadowy in the moonlight. He surveyed as much as he could from end to end, feeling jumpy. What if one of Frankie’s guys had tailed Eleanor? What if someone was waiting in the lobby for him right now? If Eleanor had found him so easily, how hard could it be? If Frankie figured out that Don wasn’t staying at the Chateau Marmont, what other pieces might he put together? Eleanor had put them both in danger coming here like this. “So, why did you come to Hollywood? To me? Instead of going to Robert and trying to convince him he’s got it wrong. Surely, this doesn’t help your case.”

“I panicked.” Well, at least she was being honest. That was refreshing from anyone in Frankie’s orbit. “I know you hate Frankie as much as I do. Maybe more. I don’t know. Who else is gonna help me out of this mess?”

She did have a point. Part of Don still didn’t believe Eleanor wasn’t sent here on an errand from Frankie. Even if she was on the level, he wasn’t really sure how he could help her. If he got involved, it would only call attention to them both. He was trying to lie low right now. “I don’t know what I can do about it, Eleanor. Robert isn’t any more likely to believe me than he is you.”

“So, you won’t help me?” Her bottom lip extended, and he could tell she was on the verge of another crying jag.

“I didn’t say I won’t. I just said I don’t know if I can. But you have to promise me something.”

“What?” She raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical of his quid pro quo.

“You can’t tell Frankie you saw me at this hotel. How’d you find me here anyway?”

“I called the studio and asked.”

He was going to have to talk to someone about giving out his information so freely. “Well, if Frankie asks, tell him you visited me at the Chateau Marmont, okay?”

“What, why?”

“I can’t tell you why. But if you want my help, you have to promise, Eleanor.” Nuts, there went that lip again, sticking out even further. He didn’t want her to cry. They both wanted the same thing after all—to be free of Frankie. Wasn’t there some way he could help them both?

If he jumped ship, Eleanor wasn’t much use to Frankie. If Don agreed to help Eleanor, he could keep an eye on her, make sure she didn’t slip up and say the wrong thing to Frankie about what was really happening out here in Hollywood. Plus it had been a long time since he’d done the right thing, the noble thing. Hell, he wasn’t sure he ever had. Helping Eleanor seemed like a good place to start. Particularly if it also kept his plan on track. “If you promise not to tell Frankie where I am, then we’ll find a way to fix this. A promise for a promise.”

She leapt up and grasped him in a hug that felt more like an iron lung than an embrace. “Oh, I promise, I promise. Thank you, Donnie, thank you, thank you, thank you. You won’t regret it.”

But as he was being slowly squeezed to death, like prey to the most perfectly coiffed boa constrictor, he was absolutely certain he would.

Chapter 9