Page 41 of His Girl Hollywood
“Oh, so you want to be a sailor?”
Bobby gave Don the stink-eye, and Arlene shoveled a piece of steak into her mouth to prevent herself from laughing. “So what if I do?” he grumbled in his little-kid voice.
“Well, do you read the funny papers?”
Now quick to abandon any pretense of following his brother’s lead, Fred jumped in. “Sure we do. Mommy reads them to us whenever we ask her to.”
“All right then, do you know who Popeye is?” Both of the boys nodded, but Bobby still looked suspicious. “Well, Popeye always eats his spinach. And spinach isn’t even as tasty as squash. So, if you want to grow up big and strong like Popeye, and your daddy,” Don added, grinning at Bill, “then you’ve got to eat your squash.”
Bobby still didn’t look convinced, but Fred quickly took a bite and his eyes lit up. “Mommy’s right! It is good!”
Bobby reluctantly reached for his fork and joined in, taking the tiniest bite. “S’alright, I guess,” he mumbled. But Arlene noticed Bobby put a bunch more on his fork with his next bite. She moved her knee and nudged Don’s leg, urging him to look at Bobby’s fork. Don gave her the slightest of winks.
“So, Don, what have you been up to the last ten years?” Bill asked, his mouth full of food. Don choked on the large bite he’d just taken.
“Bill!” Arlene yelled, as she slapped Don hard on the back. He coughed hard as she made contact, and he wheezed his way through a piece of steak that seemed to have gone down the wrong way. The last thing she needed was for her leading man to asphyxiate at her mother’s dining table.
“What?” Bill raised his hands defensively. “A guy disappears for a decade, maybe you want to know what he’s been up to.”
Pauline interrupted. “Hush yourself, Bill. You know what he’s been up to. He’s been dancing in New York. You see the newspaper clippings on the fridge every time you come over. Which is every day.”
Bill rolled his eyes. “Okay, sure, you’re some New York hotshot. But what I mean is, what have you been up to? How comewe haven’t heard from you in a decade? Why didn’t you come for Dad’s funeral?”
Arlene turned beet red, and she stretched out her foot and kicked Bill under the table.
“Ow!” Bill yelled.
Don squeezed her leg under the table as if to tell her that it was okay. But she flushed at the way his hand on her thigh made a whisper of excitement run down her spine. Her body was betraying her in all sorts of ways.
“I, uh, don’t really have a good excuse. I was young and stupid, and I didn’t want to think about my past and everything I was determined to leave behind. And then, by the time I did want to fix things, it was too hard.”
Arlene’s hackles rose. Sure, she’d heard this excuse on Friday night. But something about it didn’t sit right with her. Again, she had the sensation that there was something Don wasn’t telling them. Maybe if she still thought the worst of him, she would’ve accepted his paltry excuses at face value. But he’d surprised her these last few days. Standing up for her with Harry. The ease of his company at dinner on Friday night. Bringing her mother flowers. The man who had done these things didn’t seem like a guy likely to cut himself off from all the people who’d loved him, merely because a lot of time had passed.
“Frankly, I didn’t think I’d ever come back to California,” he continued. “There wasn’t much left for me here. I had a Broadway hit. I’d made a success with my dance partner.”
“Eleanor Lester,” Pauline muttered under her breath, making a face as if she’d eaten something sour.
Don laughed. “I see where Arlene gets it from.”
Arlene buried her face in her hands. Her family was determined to humiliate her.
“Gets what from?” Pauline asked with genuine confusion.
“Arlene makes the same face whenever she hears the name Eleanor Lester.”
Pauline smiled and preened, looking quite pleased with herself. “That’s because Lena knows that Lester woman is not good enough for you.”
“Mama, stop. That is not why.” Though she couldn’t exactly think of a better reason for the time being. “Besides, Don kicked Eleanor off our set the other day. Not me.”
“Only because I got to her before you did,” he teased. Her mouth hung open and a puff of air, a shocked little “oh,” escaped from it. Because Don was right. She had been seconds away from telling Eleanor Lester to get off her soundstage when Don had intervened first.
“Well, that’s not because I have any objections to Eleanor Lester as a human being,” she groused, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “It’s a closed set, that’s all.”
“Whatever you say, Arlene.” Don grinned, clearly not believing a word she said, and reached for his fork.
“Why don’t you call her Lena anymore?” Pauline interjected. “All this Arlene, Arlene, Arlene. She wins an Oscar and you decide she’s too good for her pet name?”
“Mama, I asked him to, all right?” Arlene glared at her mother. God, this dinner had been a terrible idea.