The Cinema of Lost Dreams

by Alli Sinclair

  “You’ll be found out one day. Then what will happen?”

  “I’ve spent enough years crafting my persona, just like you. Nothing’s real in Hollywood. It’s a world built on make-believe, and you’re a fool to think otherwise.”

  The limousine turned onto the street once more.

  “Gee, I’m so glad we had this conversation,” she said, ruing the day she and Pierre Montreaux had been paired as the “next big thing.” Since she’d given her best performance in Stuart Cooper’s office, Lena’s career had taken off so fast her head was still spinning. If she had to suffer the company of a man like Pierre (whatever his real name was), then so be it. She’d achieved her dream despite the studio’s initial concern about her maturity.

  Another sigh threatened to leave her lips, but this time she held it in.

  The limousine pulled up and Pierre turned to her. “Ready, ma cheri?”

  Pierre exited and walked around to her side of the car. He opened the door and she held out her hand. When she stood, a roar from the crowd pounded in her ears. Adrenaline pumped through her veins and all the anxiety about whether this film would succeed or not fell away—for now, at least. She should take in the moment, breathe, and revel in the fact that a little over two years ago she’d been dropped from a movie before the filming had even started. Now she was one of the most popular actresses in Tinseltown.

  Pierre placed his arm around Lena and guided her down the red carpet. She wanted to shake him off but she held back. Every few feet they stopped to pose for the cameras, a sea of flashing lights blinding her. She smiled into the brightness, unable to make out the faces calling their names. One voice, though, sounded familiar, and she peered into the crowd.

  Stepping away from Pierre, Lena moved toward the mass of bodies. People waved and she signed autographs, surreptitiously searching for the owner of the voice.

  “Lena!”

  She looked up to find the face of someone she hadn’t seen for years—Dotty Peters, the sister of Lena’s ex-boyfriend, Charlie. Oh no. Lena dropped the pen and paper on the red carpet. An assistant quickly scooped it up and handed it to Lena, who finished signing and handed it back to her fan. Lena made her way over to Pierre.

  “Let’s go in,” she whispered.

  “Why the hurry?”

  “I’m cold.” The lies came out easier than they used to. Though acting was a form of lying, wasn’t it? Pretending to be someone you’re not? Was it acceptable if the lying moved from on-screen to off-screen? Was it really that bad? Although, if it wasn’t, Lena wouldn’t spend her days petrified of her past coming back to haunt her. And now a flash of her old life was only twenty feet away. “We need to go.”

  Pierre threw her a sideways look, but he didn’t argue. Perhaps he sensed the urgency in her tone. The fact that he didn’t quiz her or refuse her wishes endeared him to her, as much as she hated to admit it.

  Pierre and Lena waved at the crowd as they entered the foyer of the cinema. It was a little less packed than the red carpet. Lena had hoped she could catch her breath, but the sighting of Dotty Peters had upset her more than she’d anticipated. Lena wasn’t so naive as to think people from her past wouldn’t surface one day, especially given her level of fame now, but she never expected Dotty to be the one who would come out of the proverbial woodwork. The last time she’d seen Dotty, harsh and tearful words had flown between them.

  This could not be good.

  Lena pasted on the smile she saved for meeting and greeting essential people and tried to lose herself in the thrill of being the center of attention. It didn’t work. All she could picture was Dotty and her brother Charlie, a man she’d rather forget.

  Hollywood’s elite swarmed around her and Pierre, as well as director Henry Newman.

  “This is your third movie with Henry, is that right?” asked social pages writer Gertrude Ackerman.

  “Yes. We have two more planned over the next year,” said Lena, her eyes searching the room. For whom, she had no idea. Dotty would be caught in the throng outside. Hopefully she’d give up and go home, but Lena suspected that may not be the case.

  “I absolutely loved you in These City Walls,” continued Gertrude, who grasped Lena’s arm. “Oh! You are even more beautiful in person! And you’re just as sweet as the roles you play.”

  “Thank you,” Lena said, wondering when the bell would ring to signal the movie was about to start. The opportunity to enjoy this evening had evaporated the moment she saw Dotty.

  “Well, well, the star of the evening.” Lawrence Doherty strode up and took her hand in his. “Look at you.”

  “And look at you,” Lena said. “You scrub up all right.”

  “We both do.” Lawrence laughed.

  Ever since Lawrence had delivered the news of her role being cut, which had led to Lena getting snapped up by Henry Newman, the balance between Lawrence and Lena had changed dramatically. She was no longer at his mercy, having to take any role he flung at her, because Henry had made it abundantly clear—in her contract—that Lena would act solely for him. And she didn’t mind at all.

  “When’s your contract up?” asked Lawrence, a sly smile gracing his mustached lips.

  “Henry will punch you in the nose if he hears you.”

  “I’m serious, though. If you ever want to do a movie with me…” His awkward smile reminded her of a nervous schoolboy.

  “Thank you, Lawrence, but I think you have your hands busy with Jeanne and Reeves. They seem to be the magic pair for you these days.”

  Lawrence averted his gaze and took a long swig of whiskey.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  Lawrence finished his drink, put the glass on the tray of the waiter passing by and grabbed another, which he downed in seconds.

  “Lawrence?”

  “You haven’t heard, have you?”

  “Haven’t heard what?”

  The laugh that fell from Lawrence’s lips sounded hollow. “Jeanne tore up the set this morning.”

  “What?” Lena had hoped things had calmed down, as she hadn’t heard much about Jeanne’s behavior lately.

  “She’s out of control.”

  “I thought she’d been seeing someone to help with her little…problem.”

  “She was, then she thought she was above seeing a doctor.” Lawrence’s sigh sounded despondent. “I just don’t know what to do. We’re already behind on production.”

  “Oh, Lawrence, I’m so sorry.”

  He shrugged. “It’s not your fault.”

  “But Jeanne and I were friends once. Maybe if I talked to her…”

  “Good luck with that. Reeves has tried his darndest, but to no avail. It’s a sad state of affairs, Lena. The movie’s in jeopardy at best, and at worst, our careers are on a knife-edge—mine, Jeanne’s and Reeves’s.”

  “But her behavior isn’t yours or Reeves’s fault.” Reeves. Wow. It had been such a long time since they’d seen each other. Even though they worked for the same studio, they rarely crossed paths. It would be so nice to see him again.

  “Look,” continued Lawrence, “I was an idiot for not seeing who you were. Who you could become. I should have fought harder against the Hays Code.”

  “It wouldn’t have made a difference. They are a force to be reckoned with. I don’t know how many times Henry has gone to bat about a trivial matter Breen and his men have taken offense to. Oh, look,” she said. “Here comes Henry. Well, hello!”

  Henry couldn’t get across the room fast enough, and Lawrence gave her a grateful smile for the warning. Although she had left Lawrence’s movie under less-than-favorable circumstances, it had opened up an opportunity she wouldn’t have had otherwise. No way could she ever harbor bitter feelings toward the man who had inadvertently opened a door for her.

  “Lovely to see you, Lena.” Henry kissed her on the cheek
, then turned his attention to Lawrence. “How are you, old man?”

  “I’m good, good.” Lawrence scanned the room. “Please excuse me, I’ve just seen someone I need to catch up with.”

  Henry’s gaze didn’t leave Lawrence as he disappeared into the crowd. Henry turned his attention to Lena.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You know the deal.”

  “Of course I do, Henry. And you should know me well enough to realize that my word is my word.”

  “And we have a contract.” He laughed, then studied the drink in his hand. “I’m aware I get possessive, and it’s not right—you are a person, not a commodity.” He looked up and grinned. “Ready for the great unveiling? It’s our best work to date.”

  Lena spotted the film critic Frederick Schulz talking to colleagues on the opposite side of the room.

  Henry squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t be nervous. They’ll love you.”

  The bell chimed steadily and the lights dimmed, just like during stage productions—one of Stuart Cooper’s touches. Pierre arrived by her side and offered his arm, and they walked up to the front of the movie theater. Stuart Cooper stood on the stage, watching everyone filter in and take their seats on the plum-colored velvet. Henry climbed the stage too, and Lena and Pierre took their places in the front row.

  For the next ten minutes Stuart and Henry spoke about the movie, which was titled Hidden Motives, Pierre and Lena and the supporting cast. The audience grew restless, and what was once a silent room, bar the talking of Stuart and Henry, had now become filled with coughs and quiet murmuring.

  “Come on! Show us the movie!” a voice yelled from the back row and everyone laughed, including Stuart.

  “I’m glad to see we have some eager beavers. So, without further ado…” He saluted the projectionist hidden in the box at the back of the theater. The movie sputtered into action and Lena squeezed her eyes shut.

  “It will be over soon,” whispered Pierre. She appreciated his understanding, though it was only a short matter of time before he said something to offend or annoy her again. What a shame she wasn’t paired up with Reeves Garrity, but Jeanne had hand-picked him from the start. Although if the rumors were true…

  Lena concentrated on the movie, cringing every time she saw her face on the screen. Although she was more than happy to act in front of the camera and have her photo taken for magazines, Lena didn’t enjoy hearing her voice or seeing her face on a sixty-foot screen. It was all so…strange.

  When World War II had broken out, all she’d ever heard were stories of men dying, women and children being bombed, countries torn apart. She’d watched families in her hometown lose their sons, and women had undertaken nontraditional jobs to help the war effort while they balanced being mothers and wives to absent husbands. War had clawed its way into everyone’s lives—no one was safe from its clutches. The only escape, for a few precious hours a week, was the movie theater. There, Lena would lose herself in another world, imagining what it would be like to be held in Cary Grant’s arms, to dance with Fred Astaire, to sing with Gene Kelly…. Never in a million years could she have imagined that she would one day be staring at her face on a silver screen.

  The audience around her laughed when they should have, sighed and cried at the right moments and seemed entranced by the romantic scenes, which strictly adhered to the rules Breen and his men monitored. Romantic movies always ran the risk of breaking the Hays Code, which slithered its tentacles into every movie produced in the USA, but Harry had found a way to take scenes right to the edge before the censorship board wielded its shiny scissors. Sometimes Henry pushed too far, and entire scenes were cut, but he’d managed to keep the movie from being banned.

  On screen, Lena and Pierre were in each other’s arms, cheek to cheek. When they kissed, it lasted for the maximum three seconds allowed by the Hays Code. Henry, being Henry, dangled his toes over the line by having Lena and Pierre kiss for two and a half seconds, briefly talk, then kiss for two more. The result was sexual tension the audience lapped up. Although the scene looked romantic, Lena’s neck had developed a crick that had plagued her for days afterward. Still, the final shot was perfection, and she admired Henry’s vision. As the image faded, the room filled with applause and a few whistles.

  Stuart walked onto the stage and motioned for the audience to quiet. “I am sure you will agree with me that this film is magnificent. Now, it’s up to you to spread the word so I can afford to go to the Bahamas for my vacation this year.”

  Everyone laughed, and Lena shook her head.

  “Come on, time to schmooze again.” Pierre offered his hand and she stood, smiling her thanks.

  “Remind me why we do this?” she asked.

  “Because if you failed at this gig, what would you be doing?”

  Dotty Peters’s face flashed before her, and a hollowness grew in Lena’s chest. No way could Lena return to that old life of working in a bar between modeling and acting jobs. She plastered on her best smile and looked around the room. “Let’s do it.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  1952 – Hollywood

  The flashing lights, sparkling diamonds and silk dresses of the night before had faded into a distant dream. Lena sat in the makeup chair in her dressing room, waiting for Vanessa and Yvonne to arrive and work their magic, just like they’d done every day since she’d first set foot in Fortitude Studios three years ago.

  Lena let out a sigh.

  “What’s that about?” asked Yvonne as she flounced through the dressing room door as fresh as a cool sea breeze. Vanessa followed behind.

  “See these?” Lena pointed to the bags under her eyes. “They will be your greatest challenge yet.”

  “Ha!” Vanessa unpacked her box of tricks. “You know me, I always rise to a challenge.”

  “You seriously have your work cut out for you.” Lena stifled a yawn.

  “Did you get any sleep last night? Or did you party until the wee hours?”

  “I got home from schmoozing at three o’clock.”

  “They really do work you like a Trojan. No resting on the laurels of your last film, huh?”

  “Nope,” said Lena.

  Yvonne sorted through the nearby clothes rack while Vanessa scooped out some goop and started applying it to Lena’s face. Lena’s skin instantly felt like it was suffocating, but in the mirror she could already see the red blotches disappearing.

  “You looked amazing last night,” said Yvonne.

  “With a lot of thanks to you and Vanessa.” Lena reached for Yvonne’s hand, then Vanessa’s. “I really mean it. Thank you.”

  “For what?” asked Yvonne.

  “For everything,” Lena said. “You two are my dearest friends, and you’ve always been there for me.”

  Vanessa gave an uneasy laugh. “What’s got into you?”

  Lena’s eyes stung with hot tears. “Lack of sleep, I guess.”

  Vanessa waved her hand, the signal for Lena to close her eyes while eyeshadow, mascara and eyeliner were applied. When Vanessa was done, Lena opened her eyes.

  Vanessa concentrated on choosing the right color lipstick while Yvonne took out the turquoise dress with tiny yellow and white flowers. She hung it on the hook next to the dressing table and rested her gaze on Lena. “What’s with that look?”

  “Nothing.” Lena wished she could hide her true feelings better.

  “You said ‘nothing’ too quick.” Yvonne pulled out a pair of yellow heels.

  Lena coughed. “We don’t have much time before I’m due on set.”

  “That’s an excuse.” Vanessa dusted Lena’s face with powder. “Close your eyes again and we’ll do your fakeys.” Vanessa picked up eyelashes and started applying the glue.

  “Come on, Lena, what’s going on?” asked Yvonne.

  “Noth—”

  “Lena.” Van
essa’s deep tone told Lena she wasn’t getting out of it this easy.

  “I don’t know, I’ve just…I don’t know how to explain.”

  “Well, you have at least fifteen minutes before we’re done here, so get that brain to work with your mouth. But not while I’m doing your lips, okay?”

  Lena laughed despite feeling so maudlin. Up until now she’d been trying to ignore the unease, but it had been tugging at her skirt like a persistent three-year-old. She had to give her friends something. “I think it’s because so much has happened in a short time. I signed on as a chorus and bit-part girl with huge dreams of becoming a starlet, though in the back of my mind I always told myself the chances of hitting the big time were extremely remote. Especially since I started in this game so much later than others.”

  “Yet here you are,” said Vanessa.

  “Yet here I am. Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do and I’m so very grateful, but there’s something missing. Something feels off.”

  “A decent man?” asked Yvonne, who motioned for her to get up off the chair now that Vanessa had finished. She placed a scarf over Lena’s head and slid the dress on, then took off the scarf and adjusted the costume, pulling it here, tugging it there then cinching it all up with the zip and buttons at the back.

  “Pierre Montreaux is a very decent man, thank you very much,” said Lena.

  Vanessa and Yvonne exchanged a look.

  “What?” Lena threw her arms wide.

  “You can say what you like, but we don’t think so,” Vanessa said.

  “Pierre is a very fine man.” Lena let indignation ride on her words.

  “You protest too much,” said Yvonne. “Besides, I’ve never heard you say you’re in love with him.”

  “Why would I? That’s my business.”

  “Your business became everyone’s business the day you signed on.”

  “I know.”

  “So?” asked Yvonne.

  “So, what?”