Page 78 of His Girl Hollywood
Harry cleared his throat. “Much as I enjoy a good love scene, shall we retreat to my office for a celebratory drink?”
Chapter 31
Arlene felt warm, the dreamy sensation of champagne bubbles fizzing in her chest, as she looked around the room. The bubbles were matched only by her nervousness as she replayed Harry interrupting her clinch with Don in her head over and over again. But no one else seemed fazed by it.
Harry was relaxing in the leather chair behind his desk. Joan and Dash were snug in the love seat in the corner, while Eddie leaned against the wall. She and Don were across from them, Don in a velvet upholstered chair and Arlene perched on the arm, her hand resting gently atop Don’s, enough to reassure him of her presence but subtle enough to have plausible deniability with Harry. They were all lazily holding half-empty coupe glasses, the alcohol having helped dull their strained nerves.
Harry opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a box. “Cigars?”
Don waved Harry off, while Dash stood and selected one from the box, going through the ritual of cutting it and using the lighter on Harry’s desk to get it going.
“No cigar for me, Mr. Evets,” Don chimed in. “But there is one thing I want to know.”
“Harry, please. You should all call me Harry. We know each other well enough by now.”
“All right, Harry then,” Don responded, squeezing Arlene’s hand and intertwining his fingers with hers. She resisted the urge to pull away. She wasn’t ashamed of Don, and she didn’t want to make him think anything of the sort. But she still had no idea what Harry was thinking. “What I want to know is how Joan and Dash talked you into this. That was a big risk—and a lot of effort—to save the skin of an actor who has yet to prove himself.”
Harry chuckled and puffed a ring of smoke into the air, a tinge of red rising to his cheeks. “Frankie wasn’t bluffing when he said he had some photos that might get me in hot water with my wife. Blackmail is cheaper than divorce.”
Dash shook his head. “Harry, when are you ever going to learn…”
Joan howled with laughter, which sent Arlene and Don into peals of giggles themselves. It was a few minutes before they recovered enough to hear what Harry had to say. Arlene wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes, as they all looked at Harry expectantly.
“Har-de-har-har, very funny. How was I to know that the hatcheck girl at the Trocadero was one of Frankie’s molls?”
“Oh, Harry,” Joan scolded. “Do you even remember her name?” When Harry didn’t reply, she continued. “So, you saw a head of blond hair and some gams and decided she looked like fun.”
Harry shrugged. “What can I say? I have a type. Is it my fault half the aspiring starlets in Los Angeles think the quickest way to a contract is to seduce a studio mogul?” Arlene looked at Joan and they both rolled their eyes. Harry was a mensch when they needed him, but he was also a notorious womanizer. He’d discovered Joan after spotting her in a stag film. He wasn’t exactly known for his discretion.
Eddie sipped at his drink in the corner as they described the girl who’d bamboozled Harry, the choreographer had suddenlytaken an interest in the pattern in the carpet. Arlene suspected that there was something he wasn’t telling, but before she could nudge him, Don burst out, “Jesus Christ, Eddie, was this the same dame that you went dancing with the night Frankie and his goons kidnapped me?”
Eddie lifted one shoulder. “How the hell should I know? Blonds are the drugstores of Hollywood. There’s one on every corner.”
Don shook his head and gave Arlene an exasperated look. Then he turned his attention back to Harry. “Did she have any distinguishing features beyond a peroxide dye job and a nice pair of legs?”
Harry grinned, every inch the wolf in sheep’s clothing. “As a matter of fact, she did. She had a small birthmark in the shape of a heart.”
Eddie choked on his drink and started coughing. They all stared at him while Dash sprang to his rescue and slapped his hand to his back, trying to help Eddie swallow.
“Harry,” Joan drawled, “I hate to ask this, but…where was the birthmark?”
In unison, Eddie and Harry replied, “It was on her left breast.”
Don burst out laughing. “Good God, what a pair the two of you make.”
Harry took a sip of his drink and winked. He was a rogue of the highest order. Arlene had always been a little bit afraid of him for that reason. Not because she was worried that he’d try anything with her. Just that he was unpredictable. A wild card in this industry. She supposed that was why he’d taken a chance on her. First as a writer. Then as a director. Every move she’d made this last month had been dictated by her fear of giving him any reason to second-guess the trust he’d placed in her. But now her head and her heart were at war with each other, knowing that Don deserved to be loved wholeheartedly and openly while fearing what that mightcost her. But there were things about this morning she still didn’t understand. “Harry, you said yourself that blackmail is cheaper than divorce. What I don’t understand is why’d you stick your neck out for us if you’d already paid Frankie off.”
“Ah, well, I didn’t pay him off. Billie,” Harry said with a grimace, before adding for Don and Eddie’s benefit, “She’s my third wife.”
“Fourth,” Joan corrected him.
Harry looked sheepish at that. “Er, right, fourth. Well, see the thing is, Billie doesn’t trust me.”
“I can’t imagine why,” drawled Joan.
“So, she’s started going over my accounts, reading my checkbook, making sure I’m not getting into trouble with other girls. If I paid off Frankie, there would have been a lot of questions. So, I was trying to get enough cash on hand to send him. Then I had to wait until he was in Los Angeles, because if I wired him payment, Billie would’ve gotten wise to that too. Then this opportunity presented itself and I realized the most financially sound option was landing my blackmailer in the clink.”
Arlene resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Only Harry Evets would describe the harrowing morning they’d had as an “opportunity.”