started to say something to him and shake her head, and then the director roared again and Ward tried to speak to her but she held up her hand. Her eyes met his and she could feel the man's strength. He had fought a war, he had come home, he had lost his first wife, and he had come to see her. Maybe that was all she needed to know about him. For now anyway.
“All right,” she whispered back, and he asked her where she lived. She smiled, and scribbled her address for him, embarrassed that he would see how grandly she lived. It wasn't nearly as lavish as it could have been, but surely by his standards, he would be somewhat awed. But there was no time to arrange another meeting place. She just handed the slip of paper to him, and waved him off the set with a grin, and five minutes later, she was getting directions and an introduction to her leading man. He was a powerful, intriguing, and very handsome man. But Faye realized as they worked together for several hours that there was something lacking from him, something. Warmth … charm … she tried to define it to Pearl in the privacy of her dressing room later on.
“Yeah, I know what you mean, Miz Price. There's two things he ain't got. Heart and brains.” And suddenly, with a burst of laughter, Faye knew she was right. That was what was wrong with him, he wasn't bright. He was also terribly full of himself, which was tiresome after all. There was a fleet of valets, secretaries, and go-fers to attend to his every need on the set, from cigarettes to gin. And when they had finished work for the day, Faye saw him undressing her with his eyes. And then he asked her to dinner that night.
“Sorry, Vance. I've already got a date for tonight.” His eyes lit up like Christmas trees and she could have kicked herself. It wouldn't have mattered if she didn't have a date for the next ten years, she would never have gone out with him.
“Tomorrow night?”
She shook her head, and quietly walked away from him. It wasn't going to be easy working with Vance Saint George, but there were moments when she had thought his performance was actually very good.
And it actually wasn't Vance she was thinking of as she hurried back to her dressing room that night. It was already six o'clock, and she had been on the set for twelve hours, but she was used to that. After she changed her clothes she bid Pearl goodnight, and hurried out to where she had parked her car. She drove toward Beverly Hills as quickly as she could. Bob was still at the gate when she arrived, he let her in and she raced through, leaving the car out front, and not even taking the time to put up the top. She glanced at her watch again. He had whispered eight o'clock, and it was a quarter to seven now.
Arthur opened the door to her, and she raced upstairs. “A glass of sherry, miss?” He called after her, and she stopped on the stairs for a moment with the smile that always warmed his heart. He was crazy about her, more so than he would ever have admitted to Elizabeth.
“There's someone coming for drinks at eight o'clock.”
“Very well, miss. Shall I send Elizabeth up to draw your bath? She could bring a glass of sherry to you now.” He knew how exhausted she got on the set sometimes, but she didn't even look tired tonight.
“No, thank you, I';ll be fine.”
“Do you wish your guest in the living room, miss?” It was a rhetorical question, he knew she would, and was surprised when she shook her head.
“My study, please, Arthur.” She smiled once more at him, and vanished, cursing herself for not arranging to meet Ward somewhere downtown. How ridiculous to play movie star with him, poor kid. Well, at least he'd survived the war. That was the important thing, she told herself, as she ran into her dressing room, pulling open all the closet doors, and then dashing into the white marble bathroom to turn on the bath. She pulled out a plain white silk dress that suited her perfectly, and wasn't too showy. It had a gray silk coat that went over it, and she selected a pair of gray pearl earrings from her jewelry box, gray silk pumps,