Page 79 of His Girl Hollywood

“Okay, fine, you helped us to save your marriage,” Arlene clarified. “But Don said you vouched for the cops. How’d you know they’d go for it? Eleanor wouldn’t let me call them for help when Don was in trouble. She said that half of the LAPD is in the mob’s pocket.”

“Exactly.” Harry grinned. They all blinked wordlessly back at the studio boss in confusion. “The studios have a deal, see? We pay Willie Bioff, head of IATSE, one of Capone’s guys, a yearly stipend and in return, he makes sure the unions don’t go on strike. After Joan came to me with Don’s problem, I went to Willie and he called up his pal in the organized crime division at LAPD and told himEvets Studios needed a little help with an unsavory character. Plus, now Bioff and the LAPD don’t have to worry about Frankie pissing off Jack Dragna and starting a gang war. My photos go away. Don is free. The mob stays happy. We all win.”

Don lifted his coupe glass of champagne into the air. “Well, then, I propose a toast. To Harry, may your inability to keep it in your pants always have a happy ending.”

Arlene winced and swatted at Don. They didn’t need to give Harry more ammunition than they already had with their kiss. She’d been caught up in the heat of the moment, needing to kiss Don, to hold him, knowing how close she’d come to losing him. After all they had been through, could she still lose her job? She and Don hardly knew Harry. What was Don doing teasing Harry like that? But thankfully, Harry guffawed and raised his glass in response. “Touché, Mr. Lamont, touché.”

Everyone clinked their glasses together and downed the last of the champagne. Harry reached for the bottle, only to find it empty. He turned in his chair and pressed a panel in the wall behind him. A richly polished door slid to the side, revealing a collection of Waterford crystal glasses and a fully stocked bar. Harry must’ve seen the shocked look on Arlene’s face because he winked at her. “Always be ready for an unpleasant business meeting.”

He stood and reached for the Scotch. It was half-empty in its crystal decanter and located in a prime position, which made Arlene think it was likely Harry’s drink of choice. He set about the task of using tongs to put ice in a glass and poured two fingers of Scotch. “You know, Mr. Lamont, that toast, it got me thinking.” Arlene felt Don tense next to her. “It’s clear you and I understand each other. You’re a man I’d like to have on my team permanently.”

Don swallowed audibly. “Sir, I’d”—Harry gave him a look—“Imean, Harry. Do you… Is this… What I mean is, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“If you think I’m saying that I’d like to offer you a four-year contract with Evets Studios, guaranteed three pictures a year, then yes.”

“And choreographer credit,” Arlene blurted out without thinking. Harry looked taken aback. Hell, if she was about to lose her job, at least Don should get what he deserved. “He’s earned it on this picture already. The numbers wouldn’t be half as good without him.”

Don nudged her. “Ahem.” She followed Don’s eyes across the room.

“Oh, and Mr. Rosso of course,” Arlene amended. Eddie raised his coupe glass at Arlene and bowed his head, paying her homage. Harry sipped his drink and patted his stomach. As he held the glass, he swirled the caramel-colored liquid thoughtfully.

“Madam Director drives a hard bargain.” The room was silent, waiting for a decision. “All right, fine, choreographer credit.” Arlene couldn’t hold in a little squeak of joy. “But”—Harry raised a finger—“that doesn’t mean I’m paying him more per week.”

Arlene started to protest, but Joan looked at her and mouthed “I’ll talk to him later.”

Don sat beside her, looking a bit stunned. She couldn’t blame him. A few nights ago, it had seemed like he’d never escape Frankie Martino’s clutches. That for the rest of his life he’d be a dancer in a gilded cage, a kept boy, giving most of his earnings to a man who’d talked him into signing his soul away. Now, he was being given a golden ticket. A promise that his talent was worth more than mere dollar signs.

He cleared his throat beside her. “That’s very generous of you, Mr. Evets.” He immediately corrected himself at a look from the studio boss. “Harry. But I have to ask you one thing before I take you up on that.”

Harry rested his elbows on his desk and placed his increasingly ruddy cheeks in his palms. “Let’s hear it, then, Don.”

“What Frankie said about New York on the soundstage earlier—about him cajoling you into sending a talent agent and signing me to this one-picture deal because he put pressure on you. Is that true?”

“You want to know if I thought you were really talented?”

Don nodded somberly, and Arlene itched to take his hand. She knew that if Harry said it had all been some scheme that had brought Don to Hollywood, then Don would walk away. He’d spent his entire life thinking his dancing was something to be ashamed of, that he’d never be good enough on his own terms. She didn’t want any life for him that left room for doubt. Because he was good enough. He had always been. She couldn’t be the only one to see that.

Harry stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I’ll admit,” Harry confessed, “I did send a scout toPal’ing Aroundbecause Frankie told me it would erase a tidy sum that I owed his boss after a game of cards got out of hand on a trip to New York.”

Unable to help herself, Arlene started to protest. “How could—”

Harry held up his hand to silence her. “But—when it comes to the studio, I never make a bet that’s not a sure thing.” Arlene felt Don relax beside her. “If Walter hadn’t had good news to report, I would’ve written a check. No matter how much fuss it would’ve made with Billie. She’s more forgiving of my gambling. But Frankie offered me a way to pay off my debt in a fashion that might be more lucrative for me in the long run. So, I asked Walter to go and see if you were the real McCoy. Luckily, he had nothing to report back but rave reviews of your performance and the audience’s reaction to it. Particularly the female contingent.” Harry gave him a wink that made Arlene bristle.

But Don seemed unable to process it. He bit his lip in concentration and gave Harry a hopeful look that nearly broke Arlene’s heart. “So, you really thought I was good?”

Harry grinned. “Do you think I’d be offering you a contract now if I didn’t? Let’s go to the screening room and watch some rushes if you don’t believe me. You’re gonna knock their socks off, kid.”

Don blushed and was suddenly very interested in an invisible piece of lint on his pants.

Arlene found herself blurting out, “If he’s that good, Harry, you should pay him more for the choreographer credit.”

Harry gaped at her, and for a moment, she thought she’d ruined everything. But she couldn’t stand for Don to not get what he was worth. Not after everything they’d both been through. But as she was about to apologize, Harry broke into a belly laugh that filled the entire room with a convivial air. He knocked back the rest of his drink and shook his head. “You’re a shrewd negotiator, Miss Morgan. Fine, a hundred more a week for Don Lamont’s skills as a choreographer.”

Harry turned and went to pour himself another drink. “Anyone else want one?” he called out.

Both Joan and Dash demurred. The two had once been two of Hollywood’s hardest drinkers, but since they’d found each other, they’d cut back significantly. Arlene admired how Dash had shed the worst of his excesses in the process of becoming his truest self and winning Joan’s heart. But this morning had been stressful. And she still couldn’t shake her fear over kissing Don in front of Harry. Harry hadn’t mentioned it yet, and it was eating her up inside. She needed something a bit more forceful than champagne to take the edge off. “Actually, I’ll take one.”

Harry turned and looked back at her, seemingly sizing her up. He cast his eyes toward Joan. “I knew I liked her.”