Professional Lover Part 2

Her red lips curved in a slow smile; her eyes gleamed softly.

"Not at all, darling, thank G.o.d! Most disagreeable, I'm sure. Still you'd be exciting. Even thrilling! And that's what really holds a woman these days. Besides, I love you."

"Didn't you love Stephen a bare twelve months ago?" he asked in the pause.

"Not really," she insisted, shaking her tiny head so that the long silver earrings jangled. "I believe I married him because I was sorry for him. He loved me so madly, you know. I couldn't bear to hurt him."

She sighed artistically. Rex wondered cynically if there was a woman living who hadn't married her husband out of pity * once she was tired of him.

"But you don't mind hurting him now?" he asked quietly, with that slight, cynical smile on his lips."That's different, Rex!" Her pretty face paled, then flushed. "I can't understand you at all,"

she added, in angry exasperation, nibbling her lower coral*colored lip. "Anyone might think from the way you talk you didn't want me! That you weren't as happy as I am about us. Oh, but I know you are!" she added quickly before he had a chance to reply. "It's just that you want to be fair to me, isn't it? You're afraid of my taking any decisive step I might regret later on?

Well" * she gave a little, crooning laugh and came towards him again, arms invitingly outstretched * "you needn't worry, darling. I've thought it all out. Oh, so seriously. And I realize I can't live without you. That, without you, life is meaningless." She made a vague gesture with her hands. Like white birds flying, they were, against the black sheen of her dress.

She had a little trick of emphasizing some words out of all proportion to others. "Just think, darling, after tomorrow we'll be together always, always! No more little subterfuges, no more trickery*"

"I wasn't aware we ever had resorted to subterfuge or trickery," he said quietly.

Her lips twitched slightly. "Oh, but I did, darling. I had to! Stephen is so jealous. Really, he's been quite unreasonably jealous lately. That's why I'm sure he'll believe what I wrote in that letter!" And she smiled with secret satisfaction.

"Darned if he will!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. And he ran a hand through his dark hair in angry exasperation.

"Darling, you look adorable with your hair ruffled like that!" she smiled. "Let Mama straighten it for you." Raising one slim arm, she deftly patted the disordered hair back into place.

Rex scarcely noticed what she was doing. He was too preoccupied. This was awful. The most awful thing that had ever happened to him. Quite apart from the fact that Rita had suddenly lost all attraction for him, there was Stephen to be considered. Stephen to whom he owed so much. And Stephen, he had realized last night, was still as much in love with this vain and shallow young wife of his as ever.

In the pause he caught hold of both her wrists and squeezed them tighter than he meant to in his earnestness. "Look here, Rita, this nonsense has got to stop. You must be a sensible girl and return to your husband. He's a darned good sort. One of the best." He added with a twisted smile, "Worth two of me any day."

She wriggled her wrists out of his grasp impatiently. "You are hurting me, Rex. And you are so stupid, darling. A woman doesn't care about a man's worth. She only cares whether she loves him or not. And I adore you, my sweet. I've loved you since the first moment I laid eyes upon you. On the screen, even before I met you. I knew you were my dream lover then. I knew, too, we were made for each other."

Rex walked the length of the room before replying. Then, propping his tall lean frame against the Victrola stand, he smiled bitterly. "But, my dear, don't you realize that's my stock in trade * to make every woman feel I'm her dream lover, as you so poetically phrase it? Why, I wouldn't be worth my hire if I didn't. That's what they pay me for. To epitomize the lover every woman secretly yearns for but whom, probably, she'd hate if she ever met him in the fles.h.!.+ Besides," * slowly his face hardened. He hated to be brutal, but for both their sakes he felt he had to * "Supposing I don't feel we were made for each other? Supposing I were to tell you I don't love you, my dear?'

A pause. Quite tense it was, with a throbbing undercurrent of emotion. Her face paled, and her eyes narrowed dangerously."That's a lie, Rex!" she gasped out. "You do love me. I know you do. Ridiculous for you to pretend you don't. A woman always does know these things!"

He took a cigarette from the bronze smoking stand near him. His hand was unsteady as he struck the match. "Isn't it possible that, just once, a woman might be mistaken?" he asked quietly.

She recoiled slightly. As though he had struck her. And her color blazed again. Even her tiny ear lobes were burning. "I can't believe you'd be such a cad, Rex. A cad to have led me on as you've done without loving me. No, I won't believe it. I won't! It's too cruel. Too brutal.

After I've ruined my reputation and all. For it will be ruined directly Stephen gets that letter.

And if you don't love me, why have you gone about with me so much? Why have you caused me to be talked about? Oh, Rex dear, I know you're only doing all this for my sake, to make me realize the enormity of the step I'm about to take. But, darling, it's no use. Wild horses wouldn't drag me back to my husband. And... and we are going to elope. Why, I've planned everything. I've even got the tickets, Rex. We're sailing for Honolulu on the Beutonia this very night!"

Her voice had risen to an hysterical pitch. He saw she was beside herself. And when he didn't reply immediately, she resumed in the same excited, uncontrolled way, "So you see you can't let me down, Rex. You can't! I'd kill myself! Yes, I'd shoot myself. And I'd see that the papers had the full story. How you led me on, got me to leave my husband, then deserted me.

For that's what it amounts to, isn't it? Yes, it will be a good story for the press! And then what will women think of their fine dream lover, Mr. Rex Brandon? How many of them do you think will flock to see your films then?" She ended in a breathless, sobbing gasp. Her whole small being seemed aflame with anger. Rex realized for the first time what a dangerous woman she was. She might easily do just what she had threatened. All the same he had no intention of eloping with her. He wondered grimly if this wretched situation was in any way his fault. He couldn't see that it was, except that perhaps he should have foreseen it more clearly.

"What's this about sailing on the Beutonia?" he asked to gain time.

She grew calmer immediately. She was the type of woman who can work herself up into a wild frenzy one moment and become calm again the next.

"Yes, won't it be wonderful, darling?" she cooed softly. "I've arranged everything. Just think * one week of glorious cruising on the blue, blue waters! One week alone together. Our honeymoon, beloved*"

"Rather a premature one, don't you think?" he murmured derisively.

"Oh, Rex!" She stamped her small foot angrily. "Don't say such things. Don't spoil it all!"

She was becoming tearful again. "I'm determined on this. I tell you I am. I've never been so determined on anything in my life. And when I'm determined on anything I get it. Besides, I've actually bought our tickets. Oh, darling," she ended with a little sob, "be pleased about it, do!"

He looked at her in genuine astonishment. Could she seriously imagine that he would chuck everything at a moment's notice to go on this mad elopement with her? What about his contracts? He asked the question aloud.

"Oh, darn your old contracts," she said crossly. "They don't matter. Only our love matters."

He straightened himself and came towards her. "But, Rita, don't you realize that if I don't finish my contracts my reputation around the studios will be finished? I'll find it darned hard to land another job. And without jobs I won't have any more money, my dear.""But I have plenty of money for both of us," she interrupted eagerly. "And I don't care what the film corporations think! It'll be enough for you to please me in the future."

"The professional lover in real life, eh?" He laughed softly. But there was bitterness in his laughter.

"I don't know what you're talking about. You'd be my lover, anyhow. Wouldn't that be enough?"

He didn't reply, and in the pause she opened an absurdly small gold compact and set about powdering her nose. Rex looked at her in amazement. But she was the type of woman who never forgets her appearance no matter under what emotional stress she may be. What a woman, he thought, and ground his teeth savagely. He paced up and down the room, feeling desperate. What was the use in arguing with her? She had been so pampered and spoiled all her life she wouldn't listen to reason. And how incredibly selfish she was! Did she seriously expect him to ruin his career for her at a moment's notice? Apparently she did, for after a moment she went on, with a little smile of inward satisfaction: "I'm so glad you see it as I do, Rex darling. You were being rather difficult, weren't you?

But then men are so conventional at heart, poor dears. Even sophisticated ones like you, my love! Still you've no idea how happy we are going to be. A woman always sees the future so much clearer than a man. And really, darling, we will be an attractive couple. Quite a distinguished couple, too. And after all the rotten mess of the divorce is over..."

Rex had ceased listening to her. He was thinking. There must be some way out of this ghastly situiation. Some way that wouldn't break Stephen Desmond's heart or, incidentally, ruin his own career.

Then, suddenly, an idea came to him. A solution so final, yet so simple, he wondered he hadn't thought of it before. Why not pretend to agree to her plan? Even to go so far as actually to board the s.h.i.+p, then, just before the s.h.i.+p sailed, slip on sh.o.r.e? He wondered, momentarily, if such an action would be caddish. Yet, after all, this situation was none of his seeking. Why, he hadn't even flirted with the woman! Besides, mightn't it be a good lesson for her? Some weeks alone at sea would have a beneficial effect on her in more ways than one. It might teach her to appreciate her husband a little. And did it matter what she thought of him?

Yes, the more he thought of it the more determined he became that this was the best way out of the strange impa.s.se. Later that night, when he returned to town, he would call on Stephen and, as tactfully as possible, explain the whole thing to him.

"Hadn't you better start packing, darling?" Her small, imperative voice broke in upon his thoughts.

He glanced at her for a moment quizzically, one eyebrow raised. "You really are determined on this, Rita?"

"Of course. darling!"

A queer gleam came into his deep*set blue*gray eyes. Inwardly he chuckled. "Very well, my dear. I will go and pack." And without looking at her again he went into the bedroom.

4

Starr was more excited than she cared to admit as she pressed the bell of Rex Brandon's apartment precisely at four. She couldn't account for her excitement, either. It was only another interview. She had done hundreds in her time. Perhaps it was because she disliked this Rex Brandon so much. Certain kinds of dislike can, on occasion, stimulate you as much as love.

Mason, Rex's manservant, seemed reluctant to admit her.

"I'm * er * I'm afraid Mr. Bandon is engaged," he murmured.

Starr smiled with sweet persistence. She was used to being received with suspicion, especially by servants.

"But I have an appointment," she said. "Mr. Brandon made it with me last night. I'm Miss Thayle of the Sunday Recorder."

Still Mason hesitated. He was in a quandary. Certainly, Mr. Brandon had said he was expecting a Miss Thayle from the Sunday Recorder. But what about the other lady, Mrs.

Stephen Desmond, who was still closeted with him in the sitting room?

'If * er * you'll step into the hall for a moment and wait, miss," he said.

Starr stepped inside with alacrity. Any obstacle always aroused her fighting blood. And as she stepped in, the first thing her eyes fell upon was the luggage piled just inside the doorway.

Impossible, by any wild stretch of the imagination, to mistake that luggage for masculine luggage. There were two red, s.h.i.+ny hatboxes, a slim vanity bag to match, pale gray crocodile*

leather suitcases, and a trunk of the same leather with red bindings. Labels on them, too, ostensibly displayed. Starr bent down and read one of the labels. After all, a reporter is trained to take note of such things. With a distinct shock she read: "Mrs. Stephen Desmond. Beutonia.

Los Angeles." And printed beneath in red letters: "WANTED ON THE VOYAGE."

Starr knew that the Beutonia sailed at midnight. She had glanced through the pa.s.senger list only yesterday. But she had not seen Mrs. Stephen Desmond's name there. Still that lady might easily be going on a health voyage and have decided at the last minute. Good thing if she were, Starr thought. It would separate her temporarily at least from Rex Brandon. Also it might set Stephen's mind at rest and allow him to get on with his work. But what was her luggage doing here in Rex Brandon's apartment?

A woman's light voice drifted out of the sitting room. "Oh, Mason, you might have my luggage taken down to Mr. Brandon's car, please. He's just phoned through for it. There'll be some trunks of his to go down later on."Starr stood as one transfixed. She knew that voice. But Rex Brandon's luggage to go down as well as Mrs. Desmond's? What did it mean? Did it mean that these two people were eloping together? Oh, surely, it couldn't mean that! But if it did, what of Stephen? Her first thoughts were for Stephen. Stephen so kind, so generous, so decent.

In the wake of that voice came Mrs. Stephen Desmond herself.

"Mason," she began. "Why*" Then she stopped, staring at Starr in amazement. The pause was short, but there was something queerly tense about it. Perhaps, even then, their antagonism was so strong it was like a living presence in the hallway.

Rita's eyes narrowed. "Oh, it's Miss Thayle, isn't it? We met last night. My husband told me you used to be his secretary."

"Yes. I enjoyed working for Mr. Desmond very much."

"Really?" Rita raised her plucked eyebrows. "So nice of you to say so!"

Something in her tone heightened the color in Starr's cheeks. An insolent something. But she said nothing. She knew, at times, more can be gained by silence than anything else.

"And what are you doing here, may I ask?" Rita went on.

"I came to see Mr. Brandon * by appointment," Starr retorted coldly.

"Oh, yes, for your paper, I suppose? Well, I'm afraid Mr. Brandon won't be able to give you an interview this afternoon. He's awfully busy at the moment. In fact he'll be awfully busy for some time to come." And a queer little smile played about Rita's pretty, piquant features.

Starr felt she was dismissed. Still she had no intention of going. There was a determined streak in her. And you must remember her red hair.

"Perhaps I could see Mr. Brandon?" she asked. "I should like to make an appointment with him for tomorrow."

The queer little smile on Rita's face deepened. 'I'm afraid Mr. Brandon will be engaged all tomorrow, too. Really," * and here she laughed lightly * "I don't think you've a hope of getting in touch with him for some weeks at least."

"Is Mr. Brandon going away on a cruise?" Starr asked innocently.

Rita started. How could the girl know that? Still, did it matter? The whole world would know soon. And as far as she was concerned, the sooner the whole world knew the better. She was too proud of her conquest to keep it to herself. Rex Brandon whom half the women in the United States were in love with!

"Perhaps," she murmured. "And perhaps you will get quite a good story for your paper *

when we come back!"

Faintly she stressed the "we" and she smiled mysteriously, "Oh," said Starr. So it was true, then? They were going to elope! This woman had as good as admitted it.

Just then another door opened and Rex himself stepped into the hall. He stood, his tall lean frame filling the doorway, looking quizzically from one woman to the other, though mostly, it must be confessed, he looked at Starr. Quite a picture she made standing there in the sunlit hallway. She was wearing a neat green sports suit with a small s.h.i.+ny straw hat tilted slightly atthe back. The sunlight burnished her hair where it escaped from the sides of her hat like a flame.

"How do you do, Mr. Brandon?" Starr said coldly. "Please forgive my intruding, but, you know, you asked me to come."

"Oh, yes, of course." He was plainly embarra.s.sed, and not a little upset. "But if you'll excuse me today... the * er * fact is..." He paused in confusion, running a hand boyishly through his very dark hair.

"Mrs. Desmond has already explained," Starr said pointedly. And the eyes she raised to Rex's face were cold with disdain.

A faint flush rose to Rex's temples. The contempt in her glance hurt, as though she had actually struck him. What had Rita been saying? Silently he cursed her. And yet whatever she had implied he couldn't at the moment deny.

"I'm awfully sorry, Miss Thayle," he said humbly. "But circ.u.mstances have arisen... I'll phone you. soon, if I may."

"That's quite all right, Mr. Brandon," Starr returned with an acid smile. "I understand you will be away for a time. I'll look forward to interviewing you when you come back. Good*bye, Mrs. Desmond. Good*bye, Mr. Brandon." And, opening the door quickly, she let herself out of the apartment.

She went down in the elevator, but in the big reception hall below she sank down into a couch. She felt dizzy. Unwittingly she felt she had stepped into something big, colossal, awful.

Awful for Stephen Desmond who, she knew from their talk last night, still adored his worthless wife. What was he thinking about it? Did he know? Suddenly it seemed to her he couldn't know. What man worth his salt could know and calmly sit still while his wife eloped with another man? Stephen wasn't that sort. She sensed, intuitively, he'd fight tooth and nail to keep what belonged to him. And if he didn't know, wasn't it her duty to tell him? Even now he would have time to stop the elopement. The Beutonia didn't sail until midnight. She drew a deep breath, and her pretty face paled. But what an awful thing to have to do * to tell him his wife was eloping with another man. Everything sensitive in Starr shrank from the task.

And yet, the more she thought of it, the more she felt it her duty to tell him. After all, wasn't he her first consideration? Wouldn't she cut off her right hand for him? Do anything in her power to help him?

With a resolute movement she sprang to her feet. As she pa.s.sed out onto the sidewalk she saw Rex's big sporting car drawn up by the curb. She stared at it for a moment while her lips curled scornfully. For behind were those absurd red hatboxes and with them a very masculine*

looking cabin trunk.

Raising a small green*gauntleted hand, she hailed a taxi.

"The West East Studios," she said breathlessly. "And as fast as you can."

The driver nodded and the taxi slid away. It was a long drive. Throughout it Starr sat straight and tense on the edge of the seat. She couldn't relax. She was searching in her mind what to say to Stephen. An awful thing to have to tell any man * especially the man you loved!

At last they were there. The drive had seemed age*long, yet now she was actually here it seemed but a moment since she had left Rex Brandon's apartment. Her hands felt cold and clammy, her heart thumped right up in her throat.She was well known at the Studios. The gateman admitted her immediately. The reception clerk pa.s.sed her on to Mr. Desmond's secretary without delay. Stephen, she gathered, was down on a set.

"Please get a message through to him," Starr urged. "It's awfully important."

The girl looked doubtful.

"Mr. Desmond said he was not to be disturbed."

Starr wrung her hands. "But I must see him. At once. I'll take all the responsibility. Please phone down to the set."

The girl was finally convinced. The message came back that Mr. Desmond would be up shortly if Miss Thayle would wait in his office. Starr found that waiting period an eternity. She paced the length of the big, airy office, pausing a moment by his desk to rub her fingers lightly over the s.h.i.+ning mahogany. How often in the past she had sat there taking letters at his dictation! She sighed. Weren't those the happiest days she had ever known? Vividly she remembered that morning she had given in her notice. How dear he had been! Especially when she hadn't been able to explain just why she was leaving him. He had held out his hand and said in that pleasantly gruff voice of his: 'We'll always remain friends, I hope."

"What did you want to see me about, Miss Thayle?" The sound of his voice startled her.