Page 50 of His Girl Hollywood
“1, 2, 3, and 1, 2, 3…” Eddie was counting out steps as Don ran through his newest bit of choreography. Arlene was watching closely, mentally filing away the best angles to shoot this from and how long each take should last.
She’d already done a lot of the work last week—particularly in the wee hours after Don had left. Unable to fall back asleep, she’d gotten up, made a pot of coffee, and storyboarded the number. Before Harry had given her this chance, storyboarding had been the closest she could get to directing. It had been merely a fun exercise. Creating a rough sketch of the images she dreamed of creating on camera with no more than pencil and paper. But this time, storyboarding was like meditation. She gave herself over to her imagination and the strokes of her hand as it flew across the paper, and images slowly began taking shape. It had helped her stop thinking about Don. About how he’d retreated from her when she’d been willing to let him in. How he was still holding something back, still hiding from her. About how close she’d come to endangering her position on this set.
The storyboards had been useful for convincing Harry to let them add the number to the picture when she’d stopped by his office the morning after Don had spent the night. She’d been prepared with a whole speech and presentation, ready to explain herplan to film the whole number twice with Don executing both parts so that they could superimpose one film strip over another and create the impression he was dancing with himself. But none of that had been necessary. Harry had taken one look at her eager face and her stack of sketches and huffed, “Whatever it is, do it. I don’t have time to deal with a hard sell right now.”
She’d thanked him and run to her office, going over the schedule for the week. It had been too late to pivot, particularly when they had no more time to lose. They’d spent the rest of the week finishing more dialogue scenes. Everything went off without a hitch. Don’s first-week nerves were gone, and he was giving a stellar performance. One full of wit, humor, charm, and real emotion. Rita had told him he was great no less than three times. And she’d even pulled Arlene aside to praise her direction and the performance she was getting out of Don.
Despite the fact that Arlene had caught Don staring at her a few times when he thought she wasn’t looking, she had maintained her resolve. She’d avoided him all week, making sure never to find herself alone with him. The chilliness between them was gone now, and she allowed herself to indulge in enjoying the time with him on set. But she worked hard to never tip over the edge of professionalism, even those few times when their eyes met and electricity crackled between them. She had told Don their night together wasn’t a mistake. And it wasn’t. Not in the way he meant. But she couldn’t help but feel she’d miscalculated. Because now that she’d had him in her bed once, she wanted him there every night. Her longing, pent up for so many years, was now unleashed. And like the ills of Pandora’s box, it was not willing to be shut up quietly, but instead plagued her constantly. She had a mantra she recited in her head: “This can’t happen. Not right now. Maybe not ever.” Too much was at stake. Her job, but also her heart.
She felt like she blinked and it was Monday morning again. They finally were getting a chance to rehearse and nail down exactly what the new number would look like. She’d given Rita and the crew the day off since there wasn’t any actual filming to be done. But that meant practically being alone with Don all day on set. It made her nervous. With the crew there watching, with Rita, it was easy for Arlene to remember herself. But she feared her own weakness without their presence.
Don and Eddie were excitedly talking through a series of steps, and she silently thanked the universe for Eddie and for Don’s insistence that he be part of this team. She had resisted at first, but not only did Eddie genuinely make Don better—he was a buffer for her barely capped desire.
“What if, when Danny’s reflection jumps out of the window, he has a ghostly hold over the real Danny and makes him execute a series of steps?” Arlene loved seeing Don this way. Invested. Energized by his work. Making art. With her. She wanted to let herself enjoy this. After all, wasn’t this how she’d always envisioned their life together?
Eddie shrugged at Don, and they both looked expectantly at Arlene, waiting for her approval.
“I love it,” she said and nodded enthusiastically. “What else you got?”
She couldn’t suppress a smile as she watched Eddie tap out a series of complicated steps, including a move that involved turning around over his back foot and leaping off the curb. Don followed his every move.
“Okay,” said Eddie. “Now, you start to mirror each other. Ghost Danny does a move, you copy, and vice versa.” They turned toward each other and did just that, pushing their arms out to the side with a dancer’s grace and nimbly hoofing through multiple sequences of fancy footwork.
Arlene clapped her hands, feeling like a little girl at the circus. “That’s it, that’s it.” Don beamed back at her.
Eddie stopped and looked between them and raised an eyebrow, but Don glared at him, his face practically screaming “It’s none of your business.” Eddie shrugged.
Now, Arlene had an idea. “What if, to finish, you both face the camera and dance in unison? Alter-ego and flesh and blood in perfect harmony.”
Something sparked in Don’s eyes and a magnificent grin lit up his face. “Eddie, the subway special.”
Without skipping a beat, Eddie and Don broke out into a dance routine, mirroring each other’s every move in perfect time. A series of complicated footwork patterns, several step ball changes, and a whole heap of jetés later, Arlene launched herself out of her director’s chair, to her feet, and applauded. “Bravo, bravo.”
Don ran to her and pulled her into an embrace, twirling her around in a circle. “It’s genius, Lena! I’m so glad you suggested it.” Her stomach somersaulted and her chest fluttered as if it was suddenly filled with butterflies.
He squeezed her backside as he spun her. She blushed, fighting the urge to push her bottom into his hand, and whispered in his ear, “Put me down. Eddie already has the wrong idea.”
He whispered back, “I’m pretty sure he has the right idea.” He nipped at her ear from an angle Eddie couldn’t see. She didn’t know whether she wanted to throw caution to the wind and kiss Don or kick him in the shins. He’d promised he wouldn’t ruin this for her, and now, he was making love to her out in the open as if he couldn’t keep his hands off her. This was a dangerous game that she had never agreed to play.
The bliss she’d felt at the touch of his hand against her and his arms around her swirled down a mental drain as her thoughtsspiraled. Right now, it was only Eddie who could see them. But what if Don forgot that they had to remain strictly professional once the rest of the team returned? What would it be like with Rita and her bloodhound’s nose for on-set hanky-panky? What about John Siddell who had gone running to Harry at the slightest whiff of impropriety, and the way her crew had all looked at her after that accidental kiss? How could Harry trust her? How would the crew respect her if they thought, rightfullyalmostso, that she was screwing the leading man? She’d be a joke within a week. Hell, they all already had the set-up and were merely waiting for a punchline. The stupidest thing she could do would be to hand it to them on a silver platter.
Don put her down, and she smoothed out her skirts. “No need to get so excited, Mr. Lamont.” He rolled his eyes so only she could see, and then he turned and took in the stoops and doorways lining the fake New York street that they were going to film the number on. He locked eyes with Eddie and she watched ideas pass between them as if by osmosis. Don sprang up a set of stairs with Eddie in lockstep behind him, and they executed a series of taps up and down the staircase. Watching them was like magic.
Arlene turned around and pointed to the fire escape behind her, flanked by a fake clothesline, complete with metal pole. “What can you do with that?”
Don got a mischievous grin on his face, before leaping his way past Arlene, tapping up the metal steps, and executing a series of hops and twirls that took him to the pole, where he promptly slid down it. Arlene nearly had a heart attack when he’d put his foot on the railing to climb over it. But he’d gracefully spun himself around the pole and landed on the ground. “I love it…but maybe more supervision next time.”
“You say that like I didn’t spend my first year in New Yorkescaping from bored society women’s windows when their husbands got home.”
She put her hands on her hips and gave him a look. “Did you really?” She hated that the idea made her jealous. Don was not hers. Not then, not now. It was none of her business whose fire escape he climbed down.
“I could scale a fire escape with one hand holding my pants up and the other holding my shoes.” He grinned, and she gave him a weak laugh. This shouldn’t bother her. But it did. It made her think of the way she’d made him sneak out of her place last week. It made her wonder how many bedrooms he’d snuck out of, with no intention of returning. If she was just another in a long line of them. Never mind that she’d been the one to dismiss him. Something in her face must’ve given her away because he walked toward her, reaching out his arms as if he wanted to take hold of her, before quickly shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Lena, that was almost ten years ago. I wasn’t exactly the world’s smartest boy.”
She tried to play it off. “No, it’s funny, really. I can just see you clattering down the fire escape barefoot.” But the playfulness she’d tried to infuse into her voice didn’t reach her eyes.
He shrugged. “They weren’t my proudest moments.” He kicked at the ground with the toe of his shoe, absentmindedly tapping out a rhythm. “I was nineteen years old and these women, absolutely dripping in jewelry, would find me after a gig. They’d ask me to come up and see them sometime. So I did. I thought they’d help my career.” He laughed, a sound cold and hollow. “Yeah, right. If I had a nickel for every time I’d made that mistake.” He sounded bitter. Like he’d lost something more than pride or dignity chasing people who he believed could help him succeed.