* * *
It wasn’t just accomplishment or relief, it was knowing this was some of his best work that had Jack McCarney finally returning to his office from the production lot, throwing down the stack of paper in his arms onto the desk and stretching his hands over his head and popping his knuckles. The last three days had been a hellish race against the clock. Locked in a tiny room at the back of the lot, with his director for almost every single minute of them, they’d finally hashed out the script changes needed to make this film the best it could be.
He loathed script changes as much as he loathed actor changes. But he’d be the first to admit, it would have been impossible to film the script the way it had been originally written. This new version, the reason he’d barely left the studio for over fifty hours, would take Hollywood by a storm.
It was good. Damn good. He’d worked with Malcolm Boyd before, and though the actor wasn’t as well-known as who he’d originally cast to play the role of Walter Reeves, Boyd was now a good fit for Reeves and would play the role to a T with Wes Jenkins as the perfect supporting actor.
Full of exhilaration Jack leaned forward and slapped his desk. This was it. His big chance. He couldn’t wait to start filming.
He couldn’t wait to eat something, either. His ribs were damn near poking out of his shirt.
Jack glanced at his watch, checking to make sure Julia’s diner was still open. She hated Hollywood and everything about it, mainly because of the way Bart Broadbent had swindled her family out of several hundred acres of land. Julia had tried, but couldn’t get the land back. Bart had already sold it to the folks building Hollywoodland. Fancy houses that only the rich and famous could afford. Julia held on to the last few acres of her land with an iron fist, and was making a nice bundle of cash for herself in the process. Her diner had the best food in the neighborhood. Perhaps the city.
He felt bad that Julia’s family had gotten sucked in, but Bart had been known as a dew dropper. The whole lot of Broadbents had been four-flushers, mooching off everyone and anyone.
Recognizing that long ago, Jack had steered clear of Bart and the rest of the Broadbents. He’d warned his brother to steer clear of them too, but like most every other time he’d warned him of something, Joe hadn’t listened. Right before leaving, he’d borrowed money from the Broadbents against his shares in the studio.
Frustration washed over Jack as he pushed away from his desk. The Broadbents had been hounding him, wanting to increase their dividends, ever since Joe left.
He refused, but did send them monthly payments, cleaning up yet another mess that Joe had left behind, because that’s what he’d always done. Cleaned up after Joe.
If his brother hadn’t been such a windsucker, things would be different right now. But that wouldn’t have been Joe. He’d thought he was too big to go down. Too high above the rest. Joe had always thought like that, despite the fact that that had never been the case. No matter how famous one gets, there’s always someone more famous. Richer. With better contacts and contracts.
That was Hollywood, and why you had to be tough to play here.
Joe had been tough, but he’d also been foolish. Too foolish. That’s what had gotten him blacklisted. Banned from ever acting in Hollywood again for immoral conduct.
Jack almost laughed, except it wasn’t funny.
Others were just as immoral, but they didn’t flaunt it. That’s what had brought Joe down, and the reason he’d left. Why he’d been gone for over two years and most likely would never be back.
It hadn’t completely stopped Joe. He was still out there, somewhere, flaunting his Hollywood connections and making promises that would never be fulfilled. The steady flow of women contacting the studio was proof of that. Each one claimed Joe had sent them, promising stardom. Riches. Fame.
There was also a bag full of unopened letters from others who hadn’t been able to muster up the money to actually make it to Hollywood, but wanted the same promises fulfilled.
After opening the first few letters, Jack had simply given instructions to put any other mail that arrived for Joe in the bag. Shattering the dreams of the ones who walked through the studio door was more than enough to deal with.
With frustration rising, Jack stood up. Scooping up the stack of papers that were full of script changes, Jack carried them out of his office and down the long corridor to the front lobby. Beverly Hobbs had done a fine job of following his orders about not being disturbed the past couple of days, and he hoped she was as good of a typist as she was a gatekeeper.
He pushed open the door to the lobby, but froze in his tracks. Front office girls came and went as fast as actors, and right now, even though she’d been working here for only a week, he needed this one. Therefore, he cautiously asked, “You have a baby?”
“No.” She set the bottle on her desk and lifted the infant to her shoulder. “You do.”
Shocked, it was a moment before Jack shook his head. “No, I don’t.”
She stood. “That’s not what the woman who dropped this one off said.”
Jack backed up, half-afraid she was going to hand him the infant. “What woman?”
“The one who was at the door when I came back from lunch.” She pointed to a sack on the desk. “She gave me that bag of diapers and milk and said the baby’s name is Grace and that she needs her father. Mr. McCarney.”
His blood turned to ice. He’d thought he’d seen it all. Women had tried all sorts of things to catch his attention, to make them stars, but claiming he’d fathered their baby. That was a first. “Where is she now? The woman?”
“Can’t say for sure. She took off running like a swarm of bees were chasing her. Last I saw, Julia from across the street ran out to keep her from getting hit.” Miss Hobbs shook her head. “Cars were coming from both directions. It was as if she hadn’t even seen them.”
He should be concerned, ask if the woman had gotten hit, but he wasn’t in the mood to be charitable. “Did she go into Julia’s diner?”
“I don’t know. The phone was ringing. I had a baby in my hands.”
She looked thoroughly flustered. He couldn’t blame her.
He spun around and headed for the door. “I’ll be right back.” Whoever that baby belonged to needed to come and get her. Right now.
“I leave in half an hour.”
“I’ll be right back,” he repeated, almost to the door.
“I have a date!”
“I’ll pay you extra,” he said, marching out the door. He didn’t have time for this kind of baloney. He’d just been given his shot to move Star’s Studio up the ladder and wasn’t about to let anything get in his way. Nothing at all. No one at all.
There was a break in traffic, so he shot across the street.
Grant Collins and Max Houlihan walked out of the diner just as Jack stepped up on the curb. He’d worked with both of them in the past and would again if the time came around that he needed to fill the roles of unsophisticated rubes. They were slapstick funny when they wanted to be. But right now he didn’t have time to listen to them spill.
“Ham’s as good as ever,” Grant said, gesturing a thumb over his shoulder. “But you best get in there if you want any. Terry Jones is bellied up to the counter.”
Terry Jones outweighed all three of them put together and ate as if he was purely dedicated to adding notches to his belt buckle. He was a heavyweight. Had been a boxer at one time, and was now the best set builder in all of Tinseltown.
Jack was no longer hungry, but even in more of a hurry to get inside. “Good to know,” he said, stepping around them to enter the diner.
The tables were all full, so were most of the stools that lined the counter. He had no idea what the woman he was looking for might look like, but recognized enough about the people filling the diner to believe none of them were her. He headed toward the counter and the door be
hind it that led to the kitchen.
“Hey, McCarney,” Terry Jones greeted from where he sat on the first stool. Jones popped an entire bun in his mouth. Whole. And swallowed it like a Labrador, one gulp, no chewing.
Jack didn’t know if he should nod, or shake his head. Instead of doing either, he grabbed ahold of Rosie’s arm, one of the girls who waited tables, as she walked past. “Where’s Julia?”
“Where do you think she is?” Rosie nodded her head toward the kitchen door.
He’d never been in the kitchen before. Had never had a reason to go back there, before today.
Greta, the other waitress, walked out the door, and he had to step aside so she had enough room for the laden tray she was carrying. Both she and Rosie had come to him begging for an audition at one time. Joe hadn’t sent them. Nor had he sent hundreds of other women. They’d come on their own. The population of LA grew by the thousands every year. People from all walks of life, from all corners of the world, arrived daily, dazzled by the idea of stardom, thinking all they had to do was arrive in Hollywood and all their dreams would come true.
They had reason to believe that might happen. Movie theaters were springing up across the nation, demanding new picture shows daily. Over eight hundred films had been produced last year alone, and more would be this year, giving the public what they were clamoring for. However, it was the magazines and newspapers that suckered people in. They wrote stories of filmmakers on the lookout for talent. Encouraged people to come to LA. Trouble was, those stories were more fictional than the movies being filmed.
He’d long ago grown tired of being the one to shatter the dreams of so many. The truth hurt, and the truth was, moviemaking was a cutthroat industry. Those who were in, were in, those who weren’t, weren’t, and most likely never would be. A very small percentage of the people who’d come to him truly had the talent they’d need to make it in the film industry. Fewer had the resolve. It wasn’t an easy profession, or as glamorous as people thought.
Rosie and Greta had both been upset with him at first, but had gotten over it.
As soon as Greta was out of the way, he pushed open the swinging door of the kitchen.
Julia was at the stove, but it was the woman washing dishes that caught his eye. He didn’t recognize her, and would have if he’d ever seen her before. Although partially hidden behind a pair of glasses, she had an extremely unique set of pale blue eyes. So unique they made him wish the ability to film in color had already been perfected. It would be, some day. And eyes like that would stand out on the big screen. Without the glasses, of course.
“Jack, what are you doing back here?”
He pulled his gaze from the woman and turned to where Julia stood near the stove. Dressed as usual in pink from head to toe, except for the black net that held her dark hair back, she frowned at him.
“There was a woman earlier, running across the street,” he said. “Do you know where she went?”
Julia’s frown increased as she looked at him, then at the woman washing dishes.
A shiver rippled down his spine as he turned in the direction of the sink again. This time he gave her a long appraisal. From the toes of her scuffed brown shoes to the top of her head, where a mass of glistening brown hair was pinned in a soft roll around the base of her head. Except for several corkscrew bangs that hung down and caught on her long eyelashes as she blinked behind those wire-rimmed glasses and settled that unique light blue gaze on him.
Her eyes weren’t the only unique, striking thing about her. The shape of her face was perfect, elegant, her poise graceful, and her skin was flawless. Unblemished and not covered with cosmetics. It was creamy and tinged pink naturally in all the right places. Even her lips had a natural shine about them and were perfectly bowed in the center.
Maybe he should audition her. Even with black-and-white filming, those eyes would stand out. All of her would.
He had to shake his head to get his thinking straight. “You? You’re the woman who dropped a baby off at my studio?”
Shock covered her face as her mouth dropped open.
“A baby?”
“Yes,” Jack said in response to Julia’s question without taking his eyes off the other woman. “A baby.”
“I thought she was just one more wannabe actress, crying her eyes out over not getting an audition,” Julia said.
Anger flared inside him as the woman just stood there, looking at him like he was the oddest thing she’d ever seen. Ignoring Julia’s explanation, he said to the woman, “I have no idea who are you, but you must really think I’m a sap. Let me tell you, I’m not.” He took a step closer and continued in a low, raspy whisper, “I’ve met a lot of two-bit dames looking to make a name for themselves, but never have I had one sink so low as to accuse me of being a father in order to further their own ambitions.” He pointed a finger at the door. “That’s not my child. I know that and you know that, so hightail yourself across the street and collect your baby.”
She blinked several times. Then, shaking her head, whispered, “You aren’t Joe McCarney?”
“No, I’m not, I’m—” Realization hit like a bolt of lightning.
Damn it, Joe! Jack wanted to shout that, several times over. You’ve gone too far this time!
Chapter Two
Helen’s heart was so far into her throat, it was strangling her. Fighting through the pressure, she asked, “Who are you? Where’s Grace? Is she all right?”
“I’m Jack McCarney. And your baby, Grace, is across the street. At the studio.”
“You left her alone?” Helen untied the apron and pulled it off.
“She’s not alone. She’s with my secretary. The same one you left her with hours ago.”
Helen was fighting hard not to run across the street to get back to Grace. She’d fought it all afternoon. A part of her had kept telling herself to get as far away as possible, but the other part of her had refused, saying she had to stay long enough to make sure Grace was fine. From a distance.
At some point, while she’d been crying her eyes out, Julia had offered her a job of washing dishes to pay for room and board for a few days.
Julia assured that was common practice for her. That she often allowed girls needing a place to stay to reside with her in the small house behind the diner until they were able to acquire lodging elsewhere. Julia also hadn’t pried. She’d never once asked why she was here, crying her eyes out. And Helen had been too weak to say no, to refuse the offer of a job and accommodation, because it would mean that she’d be able to make sure that Grace would be okay. Would be cared for. Loved.
A shiver rippled Helen’s spine as the man before her ran a hand through his hair.
His blond hair.
“What did you say your name is?” she asked. He certainly wasn’t the man in the picture with Vera. That man, Joe McCarney, had black hair.
“Jack McCarney,” he answered.
A leering glare from his brown eyes settled on her so fully, so completely, her entire body quivered.
Oh, dear Lord, what had she done?
She was almost afraid to ask, but had to. “Are you related to Joe McCarney?”
“I’m his brother.”
“Joe McCarney is Grace’s father.” Hoping to justify what she’d done, she added, “All I had was the address across the street.”
“Jack—” Julia started.
“Joe isn’t any more that baby’s father than I am,” he barked.
The disapproval in Julia’s face sent another shiver racing over Helen. “Yes, he is,” she said. “I have proof.”
He scowled. “Proof? What sort of proof.”
“A—a marriage license and a wedding picture,” she answered. “They are in my purse. I should have left them with Grace, but forgot about them.”
“Forgot? How could you forget about your marriage license?
Your wedding picture?”
Shaking all the way to her core, Helen didn’t have the wherewithal to point out his mistake. “Is Joe across the street?”
“No, Joe isn’t across the street.” He grabbed her arm. “But that’s where you’re going. To collect your baby.”
She considered refusing, but if Joe wasn’t there, she couldn’t leave Grace with this beast of a man.
“You’ll be without a dishwasher for a while, Julia,” he said while marching toward the door.
“Stop,” Helen said, digging her heels into the black-and-white-tiled floor. “I need to get my purse.”
“No, you don’t.”
She refused to move, even though he pulled on her arm. “Yes, I do.”
He let her go. “Fine. Get your purse.”
She hurried across the room, into the little backroom where she’d cried her eyes out most of the afternoon.
Julia was on her heels. “What were you thinking? Dropping a baby off at Jack’s door?”
“I thought it was Joe’s door. He’s Grace’s father. I promised her mother, Vera, on her deathbed that I would bring Grace to him.”
“So the baby isn’t yours?”
“No, she’s not mine. I wouldn’t drop my baby off with some stranger.” Guilt struck her hard and fast. She shouldn’t have dropped Grace off, either. Disgraced by her own actions, she dropped her head. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“It’ll be all right,” Julia said, rubbing her arm. “You can come back here. Our deal still stands, a job for room and board, for both you and the baby.”
Helen didn’t know what to say, other than, “Thank you.”
“Jack is Joe’s brother. The good son. He’s just upset right now. Joe was blackballed from Hollywood over two years ago, and Jack is still cleaning up the messes his brother left behind when he hightailed it out of the state.” Julia shook her head again. “Looks like Joe left him with another one.”
Baby On His Hollywood Doorstep (Brides 0f The Roaring Twenties Book 1) Page 2
