Professional Lover Part 12

"I don't feel like dancing. Let's get out in the air. Hurry, won't you?"

She nodded and said she would hurry. But she didn't, though she persuaded herself she was hurrying. She found herself oddly reluctant to leave that restaurant.

The dance music started. Jazz, crooning, pulsating, throbbing; jazz not so wild and barbaric any longer, more restrained, more sophisticated. No longer so suggestive of Negroes dancing in the cotton fields; suggestive instead of highly paid little girls at night clubs, perfectly trained, perfectly groomed, the wooden soles of their satin shoes tap*tap*tapping to the rhythm.Almost with the first bar of the music Rex started to his feet. He had seen signs of imminent departure on the part of Stephen and Starr. Waiters hovering round them doing unnecessary things.

"Excuse me, Rita," he said quietly. "I'm going over to ask Starr to dance."

"But I won't excuse you," she said. "I won't have it at all."

"Pretty women should give in gracefully." He smiled crookedly. "Au revoir for the present, my dear."

Starr saw him coming. She guessed why he was coming. And she knew a queer, tight sensation inside her. Stephen didn't see him. He was checking over the items on the bill.

Rex said quietly, "May I have this dance, Starr?"

And somehow she was in his arms the very next minute.

Stephen started in surprise, then he frowned angrily. But neither noticed him.

They danced for a while in silence. Starr wondered if any other man in the world danced so well as Rex, and was furious with herself for the admission. "Oh, well," she thought, none too graciously, "I may as well concede him the few good points he has!"

"Well, aren't you going to speak to me, Starr?" he demanded suddenly.

She raised her eyes to his defiantly. "What is there for me to say?"

He smiled twistedly. "You might thank me for the orchids. Why didn't you wear them?"

Her eyes flashed. "It must have been your busy day * ordering orchids for two women at the same time!" And she glanced angrily across to where Rita sat.

He threw back his head and laughed. He hadn't sent Rita the orchids, but he didn't say so.

"Thanks for the admission."

'What admission?"

"Why, that you're annoyed about it."

She tried to look scathing. "Of course I'm not annoyed."

"Of course you are annoyed."

"Shall we cease this discussion?" * icily. "We don't appear to be getting very far with it."

He bowed mockingly. "Just as you please, Miss Thayle." But his eyes were twinkling. She could have hit him. Why did he always make her feel as though she were behaving like a silly little fool?

And again there was silence.

He danced her out onto the balcony. It was cooler, and there was more room to dance.

"I heard tonight that the Desmonds were going to get a divorce," he said abruptly. And now he was no longer smiling.

"Yes I * I believe so." Her voice was almost too casual.

"It has nothing to do with you, I suppose?" he asked sharply.

Her color heightened, but she managed to control her voice. "Why should it?""Only... I heard you and he were getting married when the decree was through. But I suppose that's mere gossip?"

"I don't see what it has to do with you!"

"I see, so you are!"

"Well..." * a fierce little breath * "Supposing I am?"

He frowned. There was something queer about his eyes, she thought. "You're making a h.e.l.l of a mistake.... But perhaps you'll realize that before the divorce is through."

He had aroused all her fighting spirit. "I'm quite sure I shan't," she snapped back. "I've, well, I've been very fond of Stephen for years."

"Yes, fond is the correct term," he laughed down at her. But it wasn't very happy laughter.

She threw back her head defiantly. "I'm in love with him, if you like that better."

He drew her suddenly closer. "I don't, and you're not, Starr. You may think you are. But your love for him is dead, dead as cold mutton, though you won't admit it. There's something darned cussed about you that won't let you admit it."

"You seem to know an awful lot about me" * sarcastically. "What else do you know?"

"That you'd never be happy with him. Not any longer. You've outgrown him, child. He's pa.s.sed into the ranks of the men you used to be in love with. You'll realize that soon. Success in your career will help you to."

"I'm not going to have a career," she told him. "I'm not going on with film work. I'm going to help Stephen."

"What?" He stopped dancing suddenly. But it didn't matter. The music had already stopped several miliutes before. "You don't mean that?" As though by, mutual consent, they moved over to the railings.

"Yes, why not?"

"But you've a great future ahead of you!"

"You didn't seem to think that several weeks ago. In fact you practically told me I was a fool to try out for a screen career at all!"

"But I hadn't seen how well you filmed then," he said impatiently. "Nor had I heard how well your voice reproduced. I know something about the game, Starr. I've been in it long enough. And I could swear you are going right to the top of the tree. There's big scope for you.

You'd be mad not to go on with it. Why are you thinking of giving it up?"

"Stephen wants me to. He doesn't like the idea of my being a famous star."

"d.a.m.n selfishness!"

"Not at all." Her small voice was hoa.r.s.e with indignation.

Suddenly he gripped her elbows and drew her abruptly to him. "And supposing I say I want you to go on with your career, Starr?"

She tried to wriggle out of his grip. "I don't see what you have to do with it."

He held her elbows tighter. "Don't you? But of course I have something to do with it. I'm in love with you, and you're in love with me.""I'm nothing of the sort!" But her voice was choked.

"Of course you are. It's futile to deny it, though, of course, you will go on denying it for some time to come yet. That, as I told you before tonight, is because you're so darn cussed.

Still I can wait!"

"How... how dare you talk like that."

"I'll dare more than that, child. I'll dare kiss you even though you say you are going to marry Stephen Desmond." He suited his action to his words. He kissed her quickly, pa.s.sionately, before she had a chance to repulse him. And then just as abruptly he released her.

"That's enough for the present. Think of that when Desmond kisses you tonight." He grinned crookedly and added, "Shall we go back and rejoin our respective partners?"

Rita waved to them gayly as they reappeared. She was sitting facing Stephen across the little white*clothed table Rex had recently vacated. A bottle of champagne stood lopsided in a silver bucket of ice.

"We're celebrating our coming freedom," she cried. "Champagne at your expense, Rex darling. That's poetic justice for you, isn't it?"

Stephen didn't look as though he had been celebrating anything. He nodded curtly to Rex and said to Starr, "Well, are you ready, dear? Shall we go?"

"Hark at him! He's calling her 'dear' already," Rita laughed. She turned to Stephen and added with a little mocking pout, "You needn't put the nails in my coffin before I'm dead, Stephen!"

Outside it was a glorious night. The moon was full and round, wise and very knowing. The air was like a soft cloak m.u.f.fling them in scented warmth. They sat in the back of an open car, and a chauffeur drove them. For a little while they seemed to find nothing to say to each other.

Something had intruded upon their former happiness.

"Why were you out with him on the balcony so long?" Stephen demanded abruptly. He added, "It was darned cheek on his part asking you to dance, anyhow."

"I don't see that. Why shouldn't he ask me to dance?" Starr heard herself replying.

He frowned. "I can't think why you always stick up for the bounder."

She opened her mouth to reply, but she didn't. After all, it was very stupid to quarrel about Rex. He meant nothing in her life * or did he?'

Stephen said, when presently the drive was over and they stood in the shadows of the hotel garden, "Do you know, darling, I've never kissed you yet?"

Starr laughed too, nervously. "No, you haven't, have you?"

He held out his arms and smiled. "The time has come to rectify that error."

He took her in his arms, and she let him kiss her. He kissed her gently on the mouth, then, growing bolder, he kissed her eyes and her hair that was faintly silver in the slanting moonlight.

Starr lay pa.s.sive in his arms and wondered why she wasn't more thrilled. She supposed she was tired. She had been through such a vortex of emotions tonight.

"It will be a long time before I'm free," he whispered. "I can scarcely wait, darling.""But we can be together a lot in the meantime, Stephen."

"Of course, dearest.... You're happy, aren't you? As happy as I am?"

"Yes," she whispered. And she was, wasn't she? This was the wonderful thing she had always dreamt of. Stephen loved her! Some day she would be his wife. Oh, yes, she was happy... Queer that the first thing she should see when, later, she stepped into her bedroom were those orchids of Rex's. They lay on the dressing table, palely exquisite in their silver sheath.... Identical to the ones Rita had been wearing. Suddenly with a choked little cry she s.n.a.t.c.hed them up and flung them far out of the window.

"Oh, I hate them," she cried. "I hate you, too, Rex!"

Strange that she should celebrate this, the happiest evening of her life, by leaning her head on the dressing table and bursting into tears.

17

Los Angeles again. Hot summer pavements, dust hanging like a gray cloud in the air, painting the green tree leaves gray. Los Angeles with its noise and its traffic smells; its chumminess, its bustle, its ridiculous incredible dearness to all those who have left it, even for a short time.

This morning there was to be a preview of Gentleman Pirate at the Gloriana Theater.

Starr realized, as she went down to the theater, that she had never been more nervous in her life.

"But that's ridiculous," she told herself. "Even if they do think I have done well, it's not going to do me any good. I promised Stephen I'd give it up, and I will." All the same she couldn't help feeling a little wistful about it. And she hoped, for her own personal satisfaction, the directors and critics would be pleased with her.

Her pa.s.s admitted her to one of the boxes. Stephen had said he would join her there. He had to go out to the studio on business first.

As she sat there waiting, her eyes swept the audience. She waved to several other members of the cast she recognized, noted the rows of critics, of exhibitors, saw several directors of the West East Studios in an opposite box. It was thrilling, wasn't it? She had been to previews before, but none had ever been as exciting as this. Possibly because never before had she been in the picture!

Her eyes continued to sweep the audience. She wouldn't consciously admit she was looking for anyone. But he wasn't there. She smiled bitterly; probably he wanted to make a spectacular last*minute entrance. She wouldn't put it past him. Some male stars are like that.

Just before the lights were lowered, Stephen slipped into the seat beside her. She saw immediately he was upset about something.

"What's the matter, Stephen?" she asked quickly.

He shrugged angrily. "I've just come back from a directors' meeting. It appears I'm not to direct the next Rex Brandon picture, even though it's to be the biggest the studio has attempted yet. The job has been given to William Taylor. I bet Rex has been lodging complaints against me. He s just the sort of man to do a low*down trick like that through personal spite."

"I'm sure you're mistaken, Stephen," Starr said quickly. "How do you know Rex had anything to do with it?"

"I'd bet a thousand dollars he had," Stephen said bitterly. "Why else should they have made such a decision? I've always directed Rex's pictures. He's their most famous star, and I'm their most important director. And this picture, Lovable Rake, is to be the biggest and mostspectacular thing the studio has yet attempted. Given it to William Taylor, have they? Why, he's never even been a.s.sociated with Rex before. Still if they want to ruin the picture it's their own lookout. But I didn't think a sensible body of men would allow themselves to be influenced by a personal spite!"

Starr didn't reply immediately. She felt intensely miserable. All her excitement in the coming preview had gone. She felt flat, like a balloon suddenly p.r.i.c.ked by a pin.

"But, Stephen, how can you be so positive it was Rex's doing?" she asked at last.

"Who else could have influenced them? I know he was furious with me for retaking so many of his scenes in the last picture. Too darn conceited to listen to a mere director! And then," *

his voice hardened * "I shouldn't be surprised if personal jealousy hadn't something to do with it."

"What... what do you mean?" But her voice was shaken.

"I think he liked you, Starr... too darn well. That's why he wanted you to be his secretary in the first place. He was as mad as ten snakes when I took you out of his employ and gave you a part in the picture. And the night at the restaurant, you remember? I could see he was d.a.m.nably jealous of me. Undoubtedly this is his method of revenge. I must say it isn't a very sporting one!"

Again Starr didn't reply. Could Rex have done such a thing? Stephen seemed so confident he had. And yet...

There he was now, coming down the aisle. He was smiling, that lopsided slightly derisive smile that had made him famous. Starr stiffened to nervous attention. She felt her heart do something queer inside her. And suddenly she felt furious with herself for no admitted reason.