Page 33 of His Girl Hollywood
“Aw, he’s had plenty of time to get over you, Joanie,” retorted Flynn. He was the only one sitting here who didn’t know Monty Smyth’s secret—that Monty had entered a sham engagement with Joan last year to hide the fact that he was in love with Western star Jerry Scott. That’s what Joan meant when she said Monty was heartsick. After Monty and Joan’s fake engagement was announced last summer, Jerry had refused to speak to Monty. Even after Joan had called it off and married Dash instead. But if Flynn thought Monty was heartsick over Joan, they weren’t going to disabuse him of the notion.
“He should do what I do.” Flynn lifted the cocktail pick in his glass and slid a briny olive into his mouth.
“Oh, come off it. You’ve never been heartsick in your life,” quipped Dash, at the same time that Arlene asked, “And what’s that?”
Speaking through his mouth full of olive, Flynn retorted, “My dear, in order to get over someone, you simply have to get under someone else.”
Arlene choked on her drink, while Joan broke into peals of laughter. That was classic Flynn Banks.
“Well, now that that’s established,” interrupted Joan, “how were your first two weeks, Madam Director?”
“Yes, cheers to Arlene’s big weeks,” called out Dash. They all raised and clinked their glasses. Arlene was filled with a rush of emotion. She was surrounded by three of the most famous people in Hollywood. People that the average person would’ve killed to have a drink with. And they were here, toastingher. The anxieties of the past two weeks lessened as another sip of booze hit her tongue and the gentle melody of clinking glass serenaded her.
These people believed in her. Championed her. Forget the factthat her crew was one wrong move away from outright mutiny. Forget that working with Don had brought all her teenage insecurities roaring back. Forget that her head was a muddle—from that kiss, yes, but even more from Don’s kindness. The ways he’d stood up for her and protected her with Harry, even if she should have had the fortitude to stand up to him herself. Forget that everything was far more complicated and confusing that it should be.
She’d known one thing with absolute certainty for most of her life: She was born to make movies. But these past weeks had made her doubt herself at every turn. Made her fear that the naysayers were right. That she wasn’t cut out for this. She frowned, thinking of it, and Dash paused. “What’s wrong, Arlene?”
He’d always been far more emotionally perceptive than the gossip rags had given him credit for. She sighed. “It’s nothing. Just a long couple of weeks, that’s all.”
“She’s sweet on her leading man,” interjected Joan.
Arlene swallowed the sip of her drink in a gulp and choked out, “I am not.”
Joan shook her head and reached for her stinger, her brunette waves bouncing around her head in an artful fashion that Arlene would’ve said was purposeful if she didn’t know better. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” Joan waggled her eyebrows at Arlene over the lip of her glass.
“I am not sweet on Don Lamont,” grumbled Arlene. “It’s complicated, that’s all.”
“The only thing I’ve ever found complicated is knotting my tie after I’ve had a few,” quipped Flynn. His words broke the tension and Arlene burst out laughing. The bartender looked at them and immediately started mixing a second round without any of them having to ask. He knew Flynn and Dash and their tendency to imbibe.
“Oh of course, what could be more complicated than that?”muttered Dash, before turning to Arlene. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Arlene started to say no. That she wanted to move forward. Take the weekend and leave the solid week of work behind her to clear her head, enjoy family dinner at her parents’ house on Sunday, banishing all her anxieties over Don with a hearty meal and a few good nights’ rest so she could go into the next week fresh. But instead, she said, “He was someone I loved a long time ago.”
Dash nodded knowingly. “And now his being back here has you all twisted up?”
Bless Dash Howard. He could put her inner turmoil into words more effectively than she could ever voice it. She was the writer here, for heaven’s sake. But she’d always found it impossible to put her feelings for Don into words. “Yes. Don and I grew up together. For most of our adolescence, Don and my directing dreams were knit together. We both wanted to make good, and we talked about doing it as a team. When he left for New York a decade ago and didn’t look back, I decided that was what I’d needed all along. To pursue my dream with a single-minded focus. But having him back in my life as that’s all finally coming to pass… It’s a lot to process.”
“Well, we’ve all had plenty of experience falling for our coworkers,” Joan chimed in.
“Speak for yourself,” added Flynn. “I have never suffered from such an affliction.”
“I can’t wait until the day you fall in love,” retorted Joan.
“Hah, never. Doesn’t agree with my stomach.”
Joan and Dash exchanged a knowing glance as he leaned over and brushed a kiss against his wife’s cheek. Joan looked lovingly at Dash, her eyes filled with the admiration and affection that she reserved only for him.
Arlene was startled to find herself on the verge of tears. She’dalways been a hopeless romantic—and no matter how tempestuous the journey to Joan and Dash’s happy ending had been, the love they shared was something she longed for. She wasn’t like Joan had been before she met Dash, refusing to believe in love. Thinking that love wasn’t for her. Arlene still hoped that it would happen someday. But she’d long stopped wanting it to be Don. Hadn’t she?
She drained her glass and eagerly reached for the fresh Aviation the bartender had left for her on the glossy bar. Her reflection swam up at her from a small pool of spilled drink, the grain of the wood streaking across her face.
If she really thought about it, this week had gone well. After their rocky start, they’d gotten great stuff, and the picture was on its way to being a success. She needed to change the subject, lest her friends think she was lovesick or something. “Anyway, that’s a minor distraction. Everything else is going swimmingly. Rita Carter is divine. She should be twice the star she is already.”
“I’m sure she will be after your picture,” added Joan, clinking her glass against Arlene’s fresh cocktail.
Arlene blushed. “You’re just saying that because you’re my friend.”
Joan gave her a stern look. “I am not. For nine years I wanted an Oscar, and who finally got it for me? You. And your stellar script.”