part, and her husband, another actor, hadn’t liked it in the least. Nor had the people they worked for.
“Would you like to see them?” she asked.
Frustration ate at his insides. He couldn’t have another scandal right now. This film meant too much. He’d worked so hard to get back to this point. The cusp of success. Self-made success.
He straightened his spine and rolled his shoulders back, telling himself not to get too caught up in this until he knew the truth. The entire truth. He had a film to make. One that would put Star’s Studio at the top of the charts. In theaters across the nation. He was so close, and had worked too hard keeping his reputation clean despite his brother’s shenanigans.
She was still standing near the sofa, with an envelope in her hand. He walked in that direction, but only as far as his desk, hating the fact that he was putting off the moment when she might just offer the proof of what she was saying. “What’s your name?”
There was a moment of hesitation in her eyes, on her face, but then with a soft sigh, she said, “Helen. Helen Hathaway.”
He leaned against his desk. “Well, Miss Hathaway...” He paused as another thought struck. “It is Miss, isn’t it? Or are you married?” He knew of more than one woman who’d left a husband behind to come to Hollywood. One had told him she’d left five children behind and needed an acting job in order to send money back home in order to feed them. The sad thing was, he’d known she’d been telling the truth.
“No. I mean yes. It’s Miss, I’m not married.”
Her stammering displayed her nervousness, so did her stance. It looked as if she was about to jump out of her shoes, or run for the door.
He nodded and then finished what he’d been about to say earlier. “The last I heard about Joe is that he’s in Florida.”
“Florida?” She turned and stared at the couch, at the baby sleeping there.
“Yes, Florida.”
“Oh, dear.”
He shot across the room as all color left her face. Not sure what to do, because she hadn’t fainted, but was swaying slightly, he asked, “Do you need to sit down?”
She nodded.
He took her arm, guided her a couple of steps backward and onto the opposite end of the couch from where the baby was sleeping.
Despair filled her eyes as she said, “Florida is so far away.”
It was, but he wasn’t concerned about that. “Do you need a drink of water?”
She shook her head. “No, thank you, I’m fine.”
She didn’t look fine to him. Not so much as a hint of color had returned to her cheeks. Something inside him, an instinct of sorts, said it wasn’t Florida that had sapped the life out of her.
“I’m going to get you that glass of water,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
Jack kept one eye on her until he was at the doorway, then he hurried down the hallway to get a glass of water.
Secrecy was just one of the games played in Hollywood. It was played by almost everyone, and was also the one that no one wanted to get caught playing. For the most part, he’d never played that game himself. Hadn’t needed to.
He did recognize it though, and there was more to Helen Hathaway than she was letting on.
He could make some phone calls, see if he could locate Joe and question him about the woman’s accusations. But that was unnecessary. Would be futile, too. If Joe had married someone, and cared about her, or the baby, he wouldn’t need to be searched out.
On the other hand, if it wasn’t true, if this Helen Hathaway was looking for something else, Joe might know what that might be.
Jack clamped his back teeth together. He’d put nearly everything he had into this movie. Others had put up a good amount of money, too—not the Broadbents, real investors, and he was determined that not a hint of Joe’s name would be tied to this movie. Los Angeles was a big town and the movie industry was growing daily. In many ways. Good and bad. Corruption had already burrowed its way deep inside and studios were walking a fine line.
The powers that be who’d put themselves in charge of the industry wanted all of America to believe Hollywood was the pinnacle of this nation. Where dreams came true, streets were lined with gold, and beds made of rose petals.
It was all baloney. The billboards who put themselves in charge had more skeletons in their closets than those they were blackballing—like his brother. But that was the way it was, and would remain, until a few legitimate studios rose high enough to knock the big five off their pedestals.
And it would happen. Others were getting wise to the way the big companies had taken over theaters. Buying them up across the nation and monopolizing the movies that could be shown in “their” theaters. Only their movies. For every big hit, they forced the theaters to show dozens of their low-budget movies, controlling the payouts other films could make.
That was all about to turn around. Which is precisely what he was counting on happening. His new film could be the one that really changed things. It was a good script. With solid actors and a story line that would drive people into the theaters by the droves—theaters that would have the right to show whatever movies they chose. It was all lined up. If he made it with this film, finally he’d have secured his place in the movie industry. Finally he’d have the security he’d wanted for more years than he could count. And he’d have done it his way.
If nothing went astray.
An abandoned baby could cause that to happen. Cause trouble he couldn’t afford.
He got the water and headed back to his office.
She was still sitting on the couch, but now had one hand on the baby.
There was something about her that struck him deep inside. Had since he’d seen her unique blue eyes, and her nervousness made him curious to know exactly what she wanted, what she was hiding.
She glanced up and, as he’d seen her do several times, tilted her chin downward to look over the top of the glasses. Why would a woman wear a pair of glasses that she couldn’t see through? The glasses didn’t take away from her beauty, but they did disguise it slightly. So did her clothes. They were loose fitting and drab. Almost as if she didn’t want to stand out in any way. Here, in Hollywood, her getup did the exact opposite—they made her stand out like a sore thumb.
He carried the water across the room. “Feel better?”
“Yes, thank you.” The smile she offered was forced and she barely took a drink of the water before handing him back the glass.
He set the glass on a nearby table.
“Here.” She held up the envelope.
Jack
