Page 27 of His Girl Hollywood

Rita stopped and smirked. “Morning, Miss Morgan. Have a fun weekend?”

Arlene gave her a bemused look. “Not really. I spent it going back over the script and then I had dinner with my mother and my brother’s family. Nothing out of the ordinary. Why? What was… Oh, ohhhh…” She realized then what Rita was getting at. The kiss. Damn, she’d really hoped everyone had forgotten about it over the weekend and she could pretend it never happened.

Rita waggled her eyebrows at her. “I don’t blame you. He’s a handsome one. If a little bit dim.”

Arlene needed to nip this in the bud before it was the talk of the entire lot. Hell, it probably already was. But she could try. “Rita, I don’t know what you thought you saw on Friday, but I was only doing my job. Directing Don and helping get him where I needed him for the scene. He got a bit too into character, but I’ve spokenwith him, and it won’t happen again. I assure you there’s nothing going on between me and Mr. Lamont.”

“That’s a shame.” The hint of a Spanish accent emerged as Rita drawled the last word. Rita was of Spanish descent, although you’d never know it since the studios got done with her and scrubbed her of her heritage. But her roots came out from time to time if Rita was angry or teasing. “Though I suppose that’s a good thing since we have a visitor on set today.”

“Oh, I already know about Mr. Rosso. Don asked if he could bring him along.”

Rita gave her a blank look. “I don’t know any Mr. Rosso. Harry’s here.”

Arlene’s stomach plunged. Harry Evets was here? The head of the studio? She and Donmustbe the talk of the whole lot if Harry was here. She’d wager her Oscar that John Sidell had called him up Friday evening to give him a play-by-play of the kiss. But like she’d told Rita, Don had been carried away by the acting exercise. There was nothing more to it than that. Best to enter the lion’s den and accept her fate. Prolonging things wouldn’t help. “I should see what he wants. We’ll get started in about ten minutes.”

Arlene turned to walk behind the assortment of lumber that was stacked behind her set, ready to be used as bracing or a new flat if need be. But Rita grabbed her by the arm and stopped her. “Miss Morgan?”

“Yeah?”

“I hope you don’t take anything I said the wrong way. I was only teasing. I’m rooting for you. We need more gals like you behind the camera.”

Arlene fought back the urge to cry. She hadn’t been sure if her leading lady had any faith in her, especially after a rather disastrous first week. It meant the world to have this vote of confidence. “That means a lot, Rita. But I’d better go.”

Rita squeezed her arm in a gesture of good luck, then let go. But as she walked off, Arlene called over her shoulder, “And call me Arlene.”

At least she had one ally on this set. With that knowledge at the front of her mind, she squared her shoulders and prepared to face whatever was to come.

She turned the corner and her eyes went straight to the studio boss. Harry Evets was a difficult man to miss. He was only five foot six, but he was built like a house and his authoritative presence dominated any room he entered. If Harry brought a hurricane with him wherever he went, he was the eye of the storm. Arlene wasn’t looking forward to potentially being swept up in it. But Harry seemed…fine?

He was standing by the camera and his shoulders appeared to be shaking with laughter. Arlene peered to the side and realized Harry was talking to Don.Shit.Was he asking about the kiss? Was Don making a fool of her? He’d seemed repentant the other night. Like he honestly hadn’t realized how anything he’d done appeared to undermine her. But if he’d proved anything in the last decade, it was that nothing meant more to him than his work.

She kept striding toward them, and she knew something was off the moment Don saw her. His smile fell, smoothing the dimple in his scar and dimming the twinkle in his eye. Harry apparently noticed too because he turned around and saw her. “Miss Morgan,” he boomed. “How’s my little Oscar winner?”

She gave Don a questioning look and he shook his head. “I’m fine, Mr. Evets. Eager to get started. We’re filming the first musical number today.” She didn’t remind Harry that they’d attempted it last week and it had been a disaster. He knew all that already. Hell, he probably had a cockeyed view of the whole thing if Sidell had been the one feeding him reports from the set.

“I was just telling Mr. Evets about how I first met Eddie Rosso,” Don interrupted.

Harry chortled again. “I hope you haven’t told Arlene that story. It’s hardly fit for a woman’s ears.”

Don turned the color of a tomato, and Arlene arched her eyebrow as if to ask him “What the hell is going on here?” He coughed and scuffed at the floor with his saddle shoes, the ones their wardrobe department had tailor-made to be more flexible for his dance moves. “Well, now, Arlene—I mean Miss Morgan—is made of tougher stuff than you realize, Mr. Evets. She is whippingmeinto shape after all.”

Harry gave him a sly look and darted his eyes back and forth between them. God, here it was. He was going to bring up the kiss. But Harry refrained. Instead, he said, “Well, I didn’t come over here for dirty stories. Though I always enjoy a good one, mind you. I came over to talk to Don. His manager called Ida with a list of questions a mile long. Questions we absolutely went over with Mr. Lamont when we wrote up the contract.”

Don blanched and Arlene briefly wondered what was wrong. Surely, Ida could answer the manager’s questions and that would take care of it. Don piped up, his voice coming out strangled. “Uh, you tell Miss Kosterman not to worry about that. I’m sure he just misplaced it. He’s a bit absent-minded. I’ll call him tonight and make sure he has his answers.”

Harry nodded, clearly not fazed by Don’s answer. But Arlene could tell Don was lying through his teeth. First, she finds out he’s at a fleabag hotel per his own request? Then this? What was going on with him? Whatever it was, she did not have time for it. Particularly because of what Harry said next. “At any rate, I thought it’d be good to come by and observe. I hear things have been getting a little hot on the set.”

Arlene sighed heavily. So, she was right. The story of the kisshadalready reached Harry’s office. She should’ve known better than to think it would elude him. Mostly, he was an understanding man. He’d protected Joan in the midst of a terrible scandal, and Arlene was fairly certain Harry would give up his life for Joan Davis. But that didn’t mean he welcomed recklessness or unprofessionalism on his films. Particularly not when it was a first-time, unproven director. She’d seen the headlines, heard the whispers, felt the disdain. Every other studio head thought Harry Evets was off his nut assigning a woman to direct a film. It was clear most of her crew thought the same. She was determined not to let them get to her, to prove them wrong, to silence them.

She should make her excuses, the same way she had to Rita. But would that be enough? Would Harry believe her? That it had been a teaching moment that had gone too far?

“Yes, about that—” she started.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard, Mr. Evets,” Don interjected. “But I can promise you it’s not true. Miss Morgan has been nothing but the picture of professionalism since we started. If anyone’s messed up, it’s me. I needed some extra help to work through my first week jitters and she gave me exactly what I needed.”

Something mischievous sparkled in Don’s eyes at that, and Arlene reluctantly noted the flutters that twinkle in his eye elicited in her stomach. No, this was absurd. Don was saving her hide and flirting with her at the same time. She shouldn’t allow it. But he blazed ahead with his argument. “Now she’s graciously allowing me to have Mr. Rosso on set. Because she understands how crucial he is to my process—and nothing is more important to her than making this picture a success.”

Don’s words wiped the smirk right off of Harry’s face. Arlene hated to admit that it shot a thrill of pleasure through her, a senseof satisfaction she had yet to experience on this picture. Don didn’t have to do this; he could’ve complained, begged for another director.