Platinum Doll. Anne Girard

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      * * *

      An hour later, Harlean dove gracefully beneath the surface of the sparkling turquoise water of the pool, then rose to the top with all of the finesse she had honed as an athletic tomboy not so long ago. After the way his parents had died, Chuck didn’t like to swim, but he seemed perfectly content to sit on a padded chaise beside the pool on the patio and watch his young wife.

      He was the first image that came into view when Harlean rose out from under the water, his face with a halo of sunlight behind him. She loved the way he looked at her, always with adoration and lust. The combination meant love to her. Most of the time, he really did seem like a character out of one of her favorite novels, a wealthy and handsome young man, who had come into her life and swept her away.

      Energized by the swim, she smoothed her wet hair back from her face, then propped her elbows up onto the edge of the pool. Chuck, relaxing in his khaki shorts and white polo shirt, smiled down at her.

      “How would you like to go to the pictures tonight after supper? Lights of New York is playing over at Grauman’s.”

      “Oh, could we, Chuck? That’s an actual talkie!”

      “Your wish is my command,” he said and made a gallant half bow from his waist.

      “I love Grauman’s. Mommie and I went there to see Lon Chaney in The Hunchback of Notre Dame. It’s beautiful inside. That was the same night I saw Miss Pola Negri.”

      She came out of the pool and he wrapped her in the towel, then closed his arms around her.

      After she dressed, they went to a cute little malt shop on Sunset Boulevard and sat in a red leather booth along the windows. Harlean loved the bustling city view.

      She had changed into a conservative gray skirt, a short-sleeved rose-colored angora sweater, white socks and sneakers. He never liked the way men stared at her, even with her face freshly scrubbed, free of cosmetics, and her short blond hair brushed back from her face, yet they did anyway. She was as aware of their attention as he was, and she could feel Chuck bristle each time.

      “Mommie always says it’s just my hair that makes them look since there aren’t many gals with my particular shade.”

      “More likely, it’s the face and body that goes with it,” he said, but he wasn’t smiling.

      She didn’t like Chuck to feel jealous, but having been a bookish tomboy not so very long ago, secretly she reveled in the sensation she had when men acknowledged her. Mother had always been the beauty of the family, tall and shapely, with a dignified air. It had been difficult growing up in the shadow of what had seemed to her like a very bright light. But things were changing. She wasn’t in that shadow at the moment. The sunshine belonged to her. Being back in an exciting city like Hollywood was only the beginning of a transformation that she could actually feel. It was exciting just to contemplate growing into her own version of womanhood here, and the things that might mean for her life with Chuck. She wished she could tell him about it, but she wouldn’t dare. At least not yet.

      * * *

      The theater was packed since this first full-length talkie was the hottest ticket in town and people sat chattering excitedly and then cheering as the house lights were lowered. Harlean loved not having to read the dialogue and she found the new style of film, hearing what she was seeing, entirely captivating.

      After it was over, and the audience had applauded, Harlean and Chuck walked outside beneath the bright theater lights and into the cool evening air. There were more handprints and signatures here now than when she was last here. It was exhilarating even to contemplate that stars like Mary Pickford, her husband, Douglas Fairbanks, Tom Mix and Harold Lloyd, true Hollywood royalty, had stood in these very spots and pressed their hands and shoes into wet cement to the cheers of adoring crowds.

      She found Clara Bow’s square and stood in those footprints for her mother’s sake. She shivered at the feeling of being so close to the impression of someone so famous. She would tell her mother all about it when she phoned her on Sunday. Teenage fantasy spurred her on, and her heart beat very fast as she wondered what it must be like to be so adored by legions of fans, or to step before a camera knowing your hairstyle, your outfits and even your lipstick shade, would be copied around the world.

      “Here’s Pola Negri, doll!” Chuck called out. Then he held up his hands as if he were holding out a microphone. “Say a few words to your fans, Miss Negri,” he playfully bid her.

      Harlean smiled, then lowered her head and lifted her eyes as she’d seen the exotic actress do in the magazines. Then, with just a touch of embarrassment, she read what Negri had written in the cement.

      “‘Dear Sid, I love your theater. April 1928...’ Oh, gosh, Chuck, she just did these! That’s so exciting to think!”

      “What is your favorite thing about being such a big star, Miss Negri, adored everywhere?”

      Chuck’s prompting made her giggle.

      “Going to bed with my interviewers, most definitely.”

      “Why, you vamp.” He smiled.

      “How would you like to be my next conquest...what’s your name again?” she asked, innocently batting her eyes and thoroughly enjoying the sudden silly role playing.

      “McGrew’s the name, Chuck McGrew. But I’ve got to warn you, I’ve got a very jealous wife.”

      “Is that so?”

      “Oh, absolutely,” he said with a devilish grin as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “But what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

      “If I’m a vamp, you, sir, sure are a cad.”

      “Admit it, that’s your favorite thing about me.”

      “Not my absolute favorite thing,” she returned, happily playing along as they walked out onto Hollywood Boulevard toward their car.

      “Time to get you to bed, doll.”

      “I thought you’d never ask,” she teased. He held the door and she climbed into the shiny green roadster.

      “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

      “For Miss Negri, or your wife?”

      “Why don’t you surprise me on that score?”

      “A cad and a rake,” she said as he slid onto the seat beside her and started the great rumbling engine.

       Chapter Two

      The next morning, Harlean couldn’t help but feel excited when Chuck told her the surprise he had in store was waiting for her here in Beverly Hills. She hadn’t seen much of this exclusive new residential area on her last trip to California, so that made the prospect even more enticing. It was still a relatively new neighborhood, one ornamented by curving lanes, vast stone or brick estates, a variety of charming Spanish-style bungalows and Tudor cottages—along with some still-empty wide, deep lots. Emerald lawns and rows of tall palm trees bordered lush parks and bridle trails. It was a true sanctuary from the bustling city nearby, СКАЧАТЬ