Page 30 of His Girl Hollywood
Don started to protest, but she patted him on the arm and winked at him. “You and I both know this wasn’t working.”
Don was still on the ground when Arlene rushed over to them. “Are you two okay? Is there something wrong with the floor? What happened?”
“We’re fine. Don just needs to talk to you.” Rita smirked.
Arlene’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”
“Did you really think the scene was working as it is?” Don asked, peering around her to make sure Harry couldn’t hear what they were saying. The studio head was engrossed in talking to a wardrobe assistant that bore a striking resemblance to Greta Garbo. Well, at least he was distracted.
“No, but—”
“No buts! I was eyeing you and you wouldn’t call cut. I told you last week that it didn’t work with these steps.”
Arlene huffed and ran her fingers through her hair, tousling a strand so it fell over her eye. Had she always been so effortlesslyseductive? “So, you were taking matters into your own hands again? Exerting your own authority on my set?”
Damn it, this was not what he wanted. But the scene wasn’t working—and Arlene was too afraid of Harry to do anything about it. “Fine. You like the scene as is? Rita and I can reset then.”
Arlene glared at him as if she was daring him to change his mind. Well, he wouldn’t. He’d protected her with Harry, told a white lie to keep the studio boss off her back. Hadn’t he proved that he was on her side? Why was she still so distrustful? He’d realized his mistakes, charging into the soundstage that first night, bubbling over withhisideas forherpicture. He’d miscalculated. Worse, he’d been a boor. As domineering and overbearing as every other man on this set. But once he realized, he’d tried to be the portrait of contrition. Eddie was here because she’d said it was okay. But what was the use if she wasn’t going to listen to either of them? Don wasn’t her adversary, so why did she insist on treating him like one?
He bristled as she continued to stare him down. Something else was wrong. It had to be. This felt personal. But he didn’t have the emotional capacity to pick at it until the truth oozed out. Especially not with Harry here. All he wanted was to make this scene the best it could be and to show Harry what a brilliant director Arlene was. That’s why he was trying to fix the number. It wasn’t about him. But for some reason, Arlene could only assume the worst. Fine then, he wasn’t going to make her look bad. If that meant shooting the scene in a way that made it lackluster, so be it. He had bigger fish to fry anyway. Like the note Eleanor left in his dressing room informing him that Frankie had booked Don and Eleanor at the Clover Club on the Sunset Strip. His shooting schedule be damned.
He stood and dusted off the seat of his pants, resigning himself to the scene as it was. But as he turned to go back to his mark, Arlene hissed, “Stop.”
He did, but he didn’t turn around. “You’re right. It’s not funny because you slow everything down stopping for Rita to hop up and down.”
The words sparked a flash of inspiration in Don. “Say that again.”
“What? You’re right? Honestly, I don’t have time to soothe your ego here. You’re right. You’re right. You’re right. Is that want you want to hear?”
He couldn’t suppress a grin. “I must confess it’s nice to hear you say those words. But no, the other part, the second bit.”
She looked at him like he was off his nut. Maybe he was. But the seedling of an idea sprouted in his mind at her words. He called out, “Eddie, come over here.” His trusty choreographer sprinted over from the shadows, where he was observing the crew’s every move. Eddie had always been a sponge. Don had a feeling his friend would be itching to direct his own film by the time this was over. But right now, he needed to put that big brain and those powers of observation to use.
“Yeah, Don, what’s the problem? You pull something when you fell?”
Don waved him off. “No, nothing like that. Arlene, tell him what you just told me.”
Eddie was chewing gum, his favorite vice. Besides leggy brunettes. Eddie smacked his lips together and raised his eyebrows at Arlene. “Well, Miss Morgan, give it to me.”
Arlene rolled her eyes, and Don swore he heard her mutter something like “I knew this was a bad idea.” But she did as he’d asked. “I was telling Don that the scene isn’t working because the action and the comedic timing are punctured, having to stop for Rita to hop up and down.”
“See, I think that’s it, Eddie,” Don chimed in. Eddie grinned.From the moment they’d first worked together onPal’ing Aroundon Broadway, they’d shared a near mental telepathy when it came to choreography and how to fix a number that wasn’t gelling.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s it.” Eddie started to trace a pattern on the floor with his feet, the soles of his shoes tapping out a beat that matched the song they’d been playing on set for Don and Rita to dance along to.
“See, I was thinking something like this.” Don smiled at Arlene and went and grabbed Eddie’s hand, placing the short and stocky man in his arms and holding him as if he were as beautiful as Rita Carter. He whirled Eddie onto the dance floor, launching into a series of intricate dance moves that mirrored a fox-trot, only with far more hopping and bouncing involved. His worries receded for a moment as he gave himself over to the joy of creating a dance with Eddie.
“Yeah, that’s it, exactly that. But now step on my foot, like you do with the lady.” Don mimed stomping on Eddie’s foot, only this time, Eddie didn’t grab for his leg and start jumping around the way Rita had been. He winced, made a decisive movement with his leg, and turned the hop of the accident into a dance move, continuing to spin in Don’s arms, but adding in more swift little jumps to nod to his wounded toes. Don then twirled Eddie around, transitioning from their herky-jerky dance to a subtler, smoother ballroom number before picking up the choreography Rita and he were meant to execute as the grand conclusion to the scene.
Rita had been lingering behind Arlene, letting the two of them face off, but she stepped forward now, a wide grin on her face. “That’s it! That’s perfect. Let me try.”
Don looked at Arlene, hoping she was pleased. They’d figured out a way to fix this, and it had all been thanks to her sparking an idea in his head. They still made a good team. Even when she resisted.Ten years and God knows how much water under the bridge, and they still brought out the best in each other. But she only looked sad.
“Eddie, teach Rita the steps,” Don murmured. He dropped his arms, leaving his choreography partner to get Rita up to speed on their new concept.
Arlene turned away from him, appearing to be very interested in the rafters of the soundstage, so he slunk alongside her and knocked his shoulder against hers. “You don’t like it? We can find something else.”
“No, I do.” She finally met his eyes. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a pill about allowing Mr. Rosso to be here. You were right. He is an asset. That was quite something—watching the two of you improvise that on the fly.”