The Cinema of Lost Dreams

by Alli Sinclair

  “Yeah, yeah.” Pierre crossed one leg over the other. “Well, changes are afoot.”

  “For women?”

  “Ha! No.” He lowered his voice, his eyes not leaving hers. “Just wait and see.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  Pierre tut-tutted. “Such terrible language coming from those luscious lips.”

  Lena’s tolerance level for Pierre plummeted dramatically. “Why do I have to wait and see?”

  “It means what it means. No one is ever secure. Remember that.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What are you angling at?”

  “Nothing. You really should get off your high horse about women being paid equally. It’s never going to happen.”

  Lena stood, hands by her sides, fists clenching so hard she could feel her nails digging into her palms. She stormed toward the stage door, then turned and glared at Pierre. “There is so much wrong with this industry, and it all begins with people like you.”

  * * * *

  After her argument with Pierre, Lena had gone home and straight to bed. Her entire body ached from the long day, and her problems felt like they were weighing her down. The only way to fix this drained feeling was to sleep, but that had been as distant as the moon. She’d tossed. She’d turned. She’d cursed Pierre. Cursed the Hays Code, Hollywood, society…the list grew as the hours dragged on.

  Hoping to get her mind off things, she dragged herself out of bed even though it was already mid-morning. Rubbing her eyes, Lena went to the bathroom, happy to finally have her first full-day break in months—no filming and no interviews. It was nice to get away from the journalists, who were never pleased about the studio’s publicist giving strict instructions about what they could ask. Her publicist supplied interviewers with a list of questions from which they could choose. No deviation allowed. Some tried, of course, but Lena intended to keep her private life just that—private. Well, apart from her entanglement with Pierre. She had to give them something, and in the grand scheme of things, a romance with Pierre was the perfect trade-off. Focusing on her current love life left little room for her past to surface.

  Dotty’s and Charlie’s faces flashed before her. Memories of shared happiness and the anticipation of unknown adventures twisted into fear and apprehension. Everything had changed so quickly. Lena clutched her stomach.

  Refusing to let mistakes of the past dictate the present, Lena dressed in a casual light gray pantsuit and dark green wedge heels. A few minutes later she was in the car, traveling east toward Roy’s Diner. If she didn’t get a move on, she’d find a disgruntled George, who had no tolerance for tardiness—something she wished she could change but her life these days was filled to the brim; even on her days off there was always someone wanting something. At least all George wanted was company, and she was more than happy to oblige.

  Lena parked on a side street and walked into the diner. The tinkle of the bell above the door reminded her of when she’d first entered this place three years ago, alone and destitute. Amazing how things had changed in what seemed a heartbeat.

  “Well, well, well! What a sight for sore eyes!” Meryl bustled over and Lena relaxed into her arms, realizing how much she missed this embrace. Meryl pulled back and lightly pinched Lena’s cheeks. “My goodness, there is nothing of you! Come on.” She led Lena to her once-regular booth. “I’ll make your favorite.”

  “Thanks, Meryl.” Lena shuffled to the far side of the booth, happy to be back in the only place she ever felt at home. “It’s been too long.”

  “That it has. And I wanted to thank you for the tickets to your premiere. Roy and I had a wonderful time. I felt like the queen!” Meryl fanned herself like a royal. “I tried to say hello, but you were surrounded.”

  “I’m sorry about that. Premieres are crazy. Actually, the next few weeks are. Today is my only day off, and I had to negotiate really hard for it.”

  “You deserve some rest, darling girl. And a banana milkshake. What else?”

  “I’m not really hungry.”

  Meryl’s pencil hovered above her notepad.

  “Really, I don’t want anything else. Besides, I’m waiting for George.”

  “You got here before him?”

  “I know!” Lena laughed. “A first time for everything!”

  “Indeed. How about I get you a little something to tide you over until he arrives?”

  “Sure. Thank you,” said Lena, aware that “No thank you” was not an option.

  Meryl went over to the counter and spoke to Roy, who was slaving over the hot grill, as usual.

  Lena rested against the padded seat and looked around the diner. The lace curtains still framed the large windows adorned with a painted sign boasting “The best fries and shakes on the block,” which always made Lena laugh, as the closest diner was six streets away. Bob from the hardware store down the road sat at his usual table, his head buried in the betting guide. Edith and Myrtle, the very sweet spinsters, were in their regular corner, nursing a pot of tea that would have them sitting there for hours as they gossiped about the clientele. The decor remained the same, with orange salt and pepper shakers on the green Formica tables that were more scratched than the last time she’d been here. The aroma of frying onions, freshly brewed coffee and baked bread filled the air, and Lena inhaled slowly, enjoying the smell of home.

  Home.

  A twinge of nostalgia threatened to spoil her mood and she refused to give in to it. Instead, she concentrated on the clock above the door and predicted how long it would take for George to turn up and how much glee she’d get from giving him a tongue-in-cheek lecture about tardiness.

  Meryl arrived with the milkshake and a large plate of fries and pickles. “Now, eat up. Don’t they feed you at the studio?”

  “I rarely have time to eat.” Her stomach grumbled.

  “Now you have no excuse. Enjoy!” Meryl left before Lena could protest.

  She stared at the food and shake in front of her. When was the last time she had eaten something she wanted? Something that wasn’t water-based, like celery or carrots? Lena picked up a fry and used it to push the others around the plate. Just being near them made her skin feel like it was coated in grease. But they smelled so good.

  Lena quickly shoved the fry in her mouth, closed her eyes and chewed slowly, allowing the salty goodness to dance across her taste buds. Never in her life had a fry tasted so delicious. Opening her eyes, she stared at her plate, the willpower she’d been cultivating since working with Henry falling by the wayside. In her head she could hear Henry chastising her about the potential size of her derriere if she ate such food. And he’d be telling her this while stuffing his face with a burger.

  Her gaze rested on the milkshake, and the image of Yvonne struggling to get the zipper up on Lena’s latest gown crowded in on her. As much as she wanted this comfort food, she couldn’t do it. Her career depended on it. Though it unsettled her that Meryl would be offended. Maybe if Lena had a few bites, then walked around the block a few hundred times…

  Taking a bite of another fry, Lena savored the flavor.

  Just one more.

  Maybe another.

  And another.

  Or two.

  Before she knew it, her plate was empty, and so was the milkshake glass.

  Lena quickly looked around, but no one had paid attention—except for Meryl, who sauntered over and cleared the plates.

  “How was it?”

  “Good?” A pain in the center of her chest made her want to burp. “Actually, it was delicious.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” She piled the plates onto one arm, looked at the door and then back at Lena. “Still no George? Has he forgotten?”

  “His memory is better than an elephant’s. He remembered my agent’s birthday, and they’ve only met once!”

  “Hmm. Odd of hi
m not to show.”

  “Yep.” Lena’s stomach felt like it was touching the edge of the table. She needed to lie down, but a long walk would be first on the agenda. And she knew just the place. Lena placed money on the table. “If George does turn up, can you let him know I was here, please? And get him to call me?”

  “Sure thing, honey.” Meryl put a pencil behind her ear and glanced at the table. “Lena, that’s too much money.”

  “Gotta go! Bye!” She raced out the door. The generous tip was the least she could do for Meryl, who had always been there for her. Since her success, Lena had tried to give Meryl presents but she always refused, so it had surprised her when Meryl and her husband Roy finally accepted an invitation to Lena’s opening night. Perhaps her persistence had paid off.

  Adjusting her large hat to cover her face, Lena strolled down the street and tried to swat away the niggling voice in her head. Pierre happily ate what he wanted and no one criticized him. She was expected to have a tiny waist and slender legs, yet possess curvy buttocks and an ample bosom. Unfortunately, Mother Nature had designed it so that most women lost weight from their bust first. And who was Lena to argue with nature?

  Ugh.

  Hollywood could be so hypocritical.

  Although the wedge heels were not designed for walking, Lena found herself covering quite a few blocks in a short time. The fresh air filled her lungs. She felt…free. Free from the watchful eyes of her bosses, other cast members, the crew. Right now, she was a normal person taking a Sunday stroll.

  A couple with a small dog on a leash walked toward Lena and she kept her head down. Glancing behind her, Lena saw the couple had stopped to stare.

  The woman shoved the leash at her husband and rushed over. “Lena Lee? Wow. You are so beautiful!” She looked around. “Are you filming around here?”

  “No, just taking a walk.”

  “Oh?” The woman’s eyes widened. “I never expected to see you in my neighborhood!”

  Lena smiled.

  “Can I just say, I loved you in Parisian Dreams. Actually, I love all your movies. You and Pierre Montreaux are perfect together! Tell me, is he as handsome off-screen as he is on?”

  “Deidre, leave the poor woman alone.” The husband arrived at his wife’s side. “I’m sure she’s got better things to do.”

  “No, it’s fine,” Lena lied. Even on a Sunday she couldn’t take time off the professional clock.

  The woman opened her handbag and searched inside. She pulled out a small notebook and a pen and thrust it at Lena. “Would you mind?”

  “Of course not.” Lena wrote a message to Deidre, signed it then handed it back.

  “Thank you!” she squealed and clutched the notebook to her chest. Turning to her husband, she said, “Just wait until Clarissa hears about this!”

  Her husband rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry for my wife’s, uh, enthusiasm.”

  “It’s all right, really.”

  “Come on, darling, let’s leave Miss Lee to enjoy her walk in peace.” The husband grabbed his wife’s arm and they took off in the opposite direction.

  Lena found herself smiling at the couple. How nice and uncomplicated their life must be.

  She sighed.

  She arrived at her car, got in and settled against the leather seat. She’d have been more than happy to get a secondhand vehicle, but the studio had insisted on giving her a brand new dark green Buick. She was used to tractors and rusting cars on the family farm, so driving the Buick never got old. She loved getting behind the wheel and navigating her way through Los Angeles. She appreciated a vehicle of this caliber, with its shiny exterior and immaculate interior. Lena often found herself peering under the hood, admiring the grand engineering that was so totally different from the farming machine engines that she’d learned to fix with odds and ends lying around the shed. She missed getting her hands greasy, but she certainly didn’t miss her father telling her off for not “acting like a lady.”

  Lena reversed the car out of the spot, checking the rearview mirror. A red Nash-Healey sports car zipped behind her and she slammed on the brakes.

  “Jesus!” Lena got out and stormed to the sports car, which had come to a sudden stop. The driver’s face was obscured by the peak of his cap. She stood with one hand on her hip. “You are aware these roads are not part of a Formula One race?”

  When he smiled, heat rushed across her face.

  “You are aware vehicles have mirrors?” came the deep voice she didn’t hear often enough.

  “I’ll have you know I checked my mirror.”

  “They are not there just for checking your lipstick.”

  If anyone else had said this, she would have taken offense, but she couldn’t with Reeves. “Yes, well…maybe you need to slow down a little.”

  “I am more than capable of going slow, when it is required.” His voice was almost a low growl.

  Lena twisted her gloves in her hands and looked everywhere but at him. “It appears you have mastered the art of the double entendre.”

  “Maybe.” His gorgeous lips lifted into his trademark smile.

  Lena cursed her racing heart and went straight into acting mode, forcing herself to feign nonchalance. “Could you please move your vehicle?”

  “What are you doing now?”

  “Going home.”

  “Take a detour.”

  “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Obviously you were in a hurry,” she said.

  “It can wait. Besides, I’d much rather have your company.”

  “Shouldn’t you be with Jeanne? How’s the romance?” She hated that kernel of jealousy.

  “I think it would be safer if we left that subject alone.” He got out and crossed his arms as he rested against the vehicle. “Why don’t we talk about us?”

  “There’s no us,” she said.

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about that moment in the parking lot all those months ago.”

  Lena chewed her lip, trying to get her thoughts straight. “Fine, there’s unfinished business, and we need to talk about it.”

  “I would really like that.” He looked around at the handful of people out walking their dogs or pushing children in strollers. “Perhaps somewhere less public?”

  “How about we go to Cavendish Park?”

  “I’ve no idea where that is,” he said.

  “Follow me.”

  Reeves patted the hood of his car. “What if we go for a spin in this shiny beast?”

  “Sports cars don’t impress me.”

  He gave a lopsided smile. “Then I have my work cut out.”

  “Yes, you do.” Lena went to the passenger side, and Reeves ran around quickly to open the door. When she got in, she shifted on the seat so her skirt covered her knees, then reached into her handbag for the scarf she always kept handy—a habit she’d learned from Dotty. Her body tensed.

  “Are you all right?” Reeves gave her a side glance as he gunned the engine and took off at a cracking speed.

  “I’m fine!” she yelled above the mechanical roar while she hastily tied the scarf under her chin and tucked in the stray hair strands.

  Instead of wallowing in things she couldn’t change, Lena concentrated on guiding Reeves to the park. He took corners at an alarming speed, the car tilting in a way that had her holding her breath and gripping the sides of the seat. He zoomed between cars, the streets a blur.

  “Slow down, Reeves!”

  “You don’t like it?” He gripped the steering wheel tightly as they veered into the lane next to them, narrowly missing a slow-moving truck.

  “No!” she yelled, but he’d already slowed to a more respectable speed and her voice was louder than it needed to be.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “I’m not a fan of risking my life.”

  “I would n
ever put you in danger.”

  “It felt like you were pushing us right to the edge.”

  Reeves concentrated on the road ahead, the vehicle purring happily. “I’m really sorry, Lena.”

  She pointed for him to turn a corner and they meandered down a quiet street lined with towering evergreens that formed a natural arch. The paths leading into the park were cobblestone, something rarely seen in LA, and a wall of various shades of green formed a natural fence at the edge of the park.

  “Here?” Reeves nodded toward an empty parking space.

  “Sure.”

  He maneuvered the car into the small spot, and when they stopped he held up his hand, then went around to the passenger side. Reeves pressed the button on the handle, but it didn’t budge. Peering over the side of the door, she tried not to smile while Reeves wrestled with the lock and handle.

  “Here, let me.” She reached over and pressed the button, closing her eyes as she did so. Lena tuned in to the door’s mechanism, sensing a slight jamming at the left side of the button. She took her nail file from her handbag and kneeled on her seat so she could get at the right angle. Inserting the pointy end of the file, she put pressure in the right spot, and a moment later the button popped out.

  “What? How?” Reeves stood on the curb scratching his head. He lunged forward and opened the door. “Mademoiselle.”

  “Why thank you, kind sir.” Lena placed her hand in Reeves’s and plastered a smile on her trembling lips. She stepped onto the footpath and immediately withdrew her hand from his.

  “That was impressive. You are definitely full of surprises, Miss Lee,” Reeves said as they strolled toward the entrance of the park.

  “I don’t like being predictable.”

  His gentle laugh echoed off the trees. “You are far from predictable.”

  They meandered along the winding paths, a canopy of green above, rows of white lilies and purple sage beside the path. Silence enveloped them, and Lena snuck glances at her companion at every possible moment. Who was she? A teenager?

  Breaking out of the lush tunnel, they arrived at a small square with a fountain in the middle. Water trickled down the intricately carved centerpiece as tiger-striped butterflies hovered above. Lena sat on the wrought iron seat and motioned for Reeves to do the same. He sat a comfortable distance away. That act alone warmed her heart.