Page 3 of His Girl Hollywood

The guy nodded with sympathy. “Prefer a taxi myself.”

Don bit his lip and tried not to laugh. Yeah, he’d prefer a taxi too. But Frankie kept him on a tight budget. So, it was going to be the subway for the foreseeable future.

Don brushed a pile of newspapers out of an armchair in the corner. He hadn’t wanted to move the stack of adoring opening night reviews ofPal’ing Aroundthat he’d placed there nearly two months ago now. They were the reminder of what he’d done right. A welcome bright spot in the midst of all the mistakes he’d made. Don sat down. “Well, Mr. Nebbs, how can I help you?”

The man removed his hat and mopped his brow with his handkerchief. “Mr. Lamont, how would you like to come to Hollywood?”

Don’s jaw fell open. “What?”

The man chuckled. “That reaction never gets old. Mr. Lamont, I’m a talent scout. Mr. Evets is always looking for the next star on the rise, and word of your success in this show has reached him all the way out in California. He sent me to see if you lived up to what the papers have been saying about you. I went to call him at intermission to tell him that you were even better than what the critics wrote. He gave me immediate permission to offer you a one-picture deal. With an option for a multiyear contract if all goes well.”

Don blinked slowly. A one-picture deal. With an option to be a contract player at one of the most illustrious studios in Hollywood. He’d be an idiot to give the man anything but an enthusiastic yes. But a memory of his father, his hands stinking like fish and motor oil as he belittled him, flooded his thoughts. It turned his stomachand a cold sweat broke out on his brow.

His father was dead. Had been for two years. But when Don thought of Los Angeles, he didn’t think of palm trees and sunshine and the movies. He thought instead of a cruel man who’d told his son every chance he got that he’d never amount to anything. The memory of the smell of his father’s hands threatened to make him vomit. It was a stench matched only by the rot in his father’s soul.

“Of course, we’ll have to find the right property first. And you’ll have to do a screen test, just to be sure,” Walter Nebbs added. “But we’re prepared to make you a generous offer.”

“Of course,” Don mumbled. The suit thought he was stalling for more money. Fine, let him. His mind moved a mile a minute. He couldn’t say no, could he? Not even if saying yes meant he had to return to California, to the one place he swore he’d never go back. Every time he thought about Los Angeles, he thought about all the reasons he’d left.

“We’re prepared to offer you $400 a week. Plus a studio car and the cost of your lodgings,” Nebbs announced, clearing his throat. “And a retainer for expenses.”

God, these studio bigwigs really wanted him, huh? But Don still wasn’t sure. The offer was far from chump change, but sixty percent of it would go toward lining Frankie Martino’s pockets and keeping his illegal gambling rings in operation. Don had been so eager to make it on Broadway, to prove his father wrong, he’d agreed to the outrageous contract that Frankie had offered him without blinking. Because he’d be dancing. Professionally. Who cared if his manager was raking in sixty percent of his salary? He’d been a prize fool. Eight years later, he was still paying the price. Through the nose.

Besides, being a movie star had never been his dream. Broadway. Dancing for a live audience every night. That was what he’d alwayswanted. And he’d gotten it. Even if it’d come with incredibly thick strings attached. Strings that were pulling at him as he turned this proposition over in his brain.

The second he told Frankie about the offer, which he would have to do, as the ache in his ribs painfully reminded him, Don wouldn’t have a say in the matter. Hell, Frankie would probably try to make it a package deal with his dance partner, Eleanor Lester. Never mind that Don had finally loosed himself from her and her conniving ways with the success ofPal’ing Around.

But then he got an idea. “Can I make you a counter?”

Mr. Nebbs raised his eyebrows. “It’s a very generous offer, I assure you. But try me.”

“How about you give me $600 a week, skip the car, I handle my own lodgings and expenses, and you include the difference in my weekly salary?” He was doing the math quickly in his head. He could find a cheap little hotel somewhere; it would be a fraction of the cost of whatever Hollywood hot spot the studio was thinking of putting him in. And he could eat as cheaply as possible. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to it. If he was out on the town, Frankie made sure it appeared as if Don was living a life of luxury. But in reality, $400 a week was more than Don had ever seen in his lifetime. As long as Don was dependent on Frankie, he couldn’t go anywhere that Frankie didn’t tell him to go. This was his ticket out.

If he only told Frankie about the first offer, the $400 per week, he could pocket most of the rest and finally buy out his contract. Even if it wasn’t enough, if he made it in Hollywood and became a contract player, he could get the money that way. He could be free of Frankie, and of Eleanor, once and for all.

Walter Nebbs scratched his chin in thought. “It’s highly unusual. But I don’t see why not.”

Don raised his hand. “With two other conditions. You let mehandle all the particulars with my manager.”

“Done,” replied Nebbs. “What’s the other?”

“You bring my choreographer, Eddie Rosso, out to California too. I can’t work without him.” Don wasn’t exaggerating. Half of the success ofPal’ing Aroundwas thanks to Eddie and the new dance style he’d helped Don develop.

“We wouldn’t be able to offer him much of a salary. But if you want him there to ask for advice, sure, we can do that.” Don knew Eddie wouldn’t mind.Hedidn’t have a gangster manager he needed to buy out, after all. Plus Eddie was a simple guy. Give him a bed and three hot meals a day, and he wouldn’t complain.

“That sounds reasonable,” Don replied. He was only half paying attention, his mind moving as quickly as his feet were known to do, springing from one idea to the next. It was a crazy idea. But it just might work. And at this point, what did he have left to lose? His options were to take this chance at getting out from under Frankie’s thumb or to continue dancing for the louse for the rest of his life. Only one of those sounded tenable.

“Do we have a deal?” Nebbs asked, extending his hand. Don leaned out of his armchair and took it, shaking it.

“We do.” Don nodded. Nebbs stood and brushed off the powder from Don’s makeup palette that now dusted his sleeves. “There is, er, one other thing.”

Don braced himself for something regarding Frankie. Something that would derail his plan before he’d even had the chance to put it into motion. “What’s that?”

“I don’t like the idea myself, but Mr. Evets was quite insistent. You’ll have to work with a rather unconventional director.”

Don didn’t know if he liked the sound of that. He’d had enough of unconventional for a lifetime with a mobster for a manager. “I see.”

“She’s, well, she’s a woman.”