She sat down slowly on the room's only chair, and looked up at him, as he sat down on her sleeping bag, and they silently held hands, a lifetime of words unspoken but deeply felt, as the jungle roared to life in the distance somewhere.
“I'm never going to forget you, Faye Price. I hope you know that.”
'I'll remember you too. I'll be thinking about you over here … I'll be knowing that you're all right every time I think about you.” And he actually believed that she would. She was that kind of girl, despite the fame and the glamour and the silver lame dress. She had called it a “costume” and to her that is all it was. That was the beauty of her.
“Maybe I'll surprise you and drop in on you at the studio when I come home.”
“You do that, Ward Thayer.” Her voice was quiet and firm, her eyes still beautiful after the tears.
“Will you have me thrown out?” He seemed amused at the thought and she looked incensed.
“Of course not!”
“I may try it, you know.”
“Good.” She smiled at him again, and he could see how exhausted she was. She had given so much of herself that night. To the others, to him. And it was after four o'clock. She would have to be up again in less than two hours, in order to move on, to do the next show. She had been working nonstop for months now. Two months on tour, and three months before that, without a day off, on her biggest film so far. And when she went back, there was another movie waiting for her. She was a big star, and she had a big career, but none of that seemed to matter here. She was just a pretty girl with a big heart, and given a little time, he could easily have fallen in love with her.
He stood up, almost regretfully, took her fingers in his own, and then lifted them to his lips. “Thanks, Faye … if I never see you again, thank you for tonight …”
She left her fingers in his for a long moment, her eyes holding his. “Well meet again one day.” He wasn't as sure, but he wanted to believe her words. And then the weight of the moment was too much for him, and he needed to make light of it. “Ill bet you say that to all the guys.”
She laughed and stood up as he walked slowly to the tent door. “You're impossible, Ward Thayer.”
He turned and glanced over his shoulder at her. “You're not bad yourself, Miss Price.” She was just Faye to him now, in his mind, it was difficult to remember who else she was … Faye Price … the movie star … actress … singer … important personality … she was just Faye to him, now, for tonight. His face sobered slowly then. “Will I see you again before you leave?” Suddenly that mattered a lot to him, and to her as well, more than he knew in fact. She wanted to see him again too before she left.
“Maybe we can catch a quick cup of coffee tomorrow morning before things get too crazy.” She knew the crew had probably been up all night, raising hell with the enlisted men, or the nursing staff, or preferably both, singing and playing the band's instruments. It was the same everywhere they went, but they needed to let off steam, and they never seemed to mind staying up all night. The crunch would come the next day when they had to get organized to leave, and then suddenly everything would be totally insane for two hours before they boarded the plane to the next base. She went through it almost every day, and then finally on the plane, they would all sleep until the next stop, and then the magic would begin again. She would have a lot to do before they left, to help everybody load up, but maybe, just maybe … there would be a spare moment for him…. “I'll look for you.”
“Ill be around.”
But when she joined the others at the mess hall the next day at seven o'clock, he was not there. The CO. had needed him, and it was almost nine o'clock before Ward found Faye standing with the others while their plane warmed up. There had been a faint look of panic in her eyes which pleased him as he shrieked up in the jeep, and jumped out to speak to her.
“Sony, Faye … the CO ….” The noise of the propellers drowned him out, and there were frantic orders being given by the stage manager to the rest of the group around her.
“It's all right …” She smiled her dazzling smile at him, but he saw that she looked tired today. She couldn't have had more than two hours sleep, and he had had half of that himself, but he was used to it. She was wearing a bright red jumpsuit today with platform sandals that made him smile. The latest fashions for Guadalcanal … and then suddenly Kathy's face flashed into mind and he felt the old familiar pain again. His eyes met Faye's as someone in the distance shouted her name. “I have to go …”
“I know.” They were both shouting above the din.
He grabbed her hand for one moment and squeezed it hard. He wanted to kiss her lips but he didn't dare. “I'll see you at the studio!”
“What?” She looked distressed, in all her travels among service men, no one had touched her as this man had.
“I said … see you at the studio!”
She smiled at him, suddenly wondering if she would ever see him again. “Take care of yourself!”
“Sure.” There were no guarantees here. For anyone. Even for her. Her plane could have been shot down on its way to their next stop. They all accepted that, realized it, until someone they cared about got hurt … a buddy, a roommate, a friend … Kathy … he shook the image from his mind again. “You take care too.” What did you say to a woman like her? “Good luck.” She didn't need much of that, she already had it all. Or did she? He wondered if there was a man in her life, but it was too late to ask now. She had begun to walk away with the others, looking back and waving at him. The CO. had suddenly arrived for a last round of thanks, and Ward saw her shaking his hand, as he watched her go, and then suddenly she was in the plane, standing in the doorway for a last instant as she waved at him, and then the red jumpsuit disappeared from his life, probably for good, he thought. He hardened himself never to see her again. It was unlikely that he would, he told himself, as Faye told herself the same thing. She found herself looking down at him, wondering why he had hit her so hard. Maybe it was time to go home after all, maybe the men she met on tour were beginning to appeal to her, and that could be dangerous … but it wasn't that … it was something else about him … something she had never felt before. But she couldn't afford those feelings now. He was a stranger to her, she reminded herself, and she had a life to live. A life which didn't include him. He was fighting a war. And she had enough wars of her own … on tour … in Hollywood…. Goodbye, Ward Thayer, she whispered to herself … good luck … and then she sat back and closed her eyes as the plane flew on … but his face haunted her for weeks … those deep blue eyes … it was months before he was completely out of her mind. And then he was. At last.
CHAPTER 2
Everyone on the set stood in total silence, and tension was heavy in the air. They had waited for almost four months for this moment, and now that it was here they all wanted to stop it, to keep it from coming, to make it come on another day. It had been one of those magical movies where almost everything went smoothly, what seemed like lasting friendships had been made, everyone was crazy about the star, and all of the women were more than half in love with the director. The male lead was Christopher Arnold, and everyone said he was Hollywood's biggest male star. It was easy to see why, the man was a pro. And now they all stood watching him, in his last scene, speaking softly, tears in his eyes. You could have heard a pin drop all the way to Pasadena, and Faye Price walked off the set for the last time, head bowed, real tears streaming down her cheeks. Arnold watched her go, devastated … that was it … the final scene … it was over.
“That's a wrap!” the voice shouted, and there was an endless instant of silence, followed by a shriek, and then suddenly everyone was shouting, laughing, hugging, crying. There was champagne for the entire crew, and it rapidly turned into a raucous party with everyone talking at once, wishing each other well, hating to leave. Christopher Arnold gave Faye a powerful hug, and pulled away a moment later to look deep into her eyes as he held her.
“It's been a joy working
with you, Faye.”
“I've enjoyed it too.” They exchanged a long, knowing smile. They had been involved with each other once, almost three years before, and she had been hesitant about doing the film because of that. But it had worked out beautifully. He had been a perfect gentleman from beginning to end, and other than a glimmer of something more than recognition in his eyes on the first day, this was the first sign of their old liaison. It hadn't gotten in the way of their work at all during the entire three months of making the picture.
He smiled at her warmly as he took his arms from around her. “I'm going to miss you all over again now. And I thought I was over all that.” They both laughed.
“So will I.” She looked around at the rest of the cast, happily raising hell, and the director, passionately kissing the set designer, who also happened to be his wife. Faye had enjoyed working with them both. Directing had fascinated her ever since she had started acting. “What are you going to do now, Chris?”
“I'm leaving for New York in a week, and then I'm sailing to France. I want to spend a few days on the Riviera before this summer is entirely over. Everyone tells me it's too soon for France but what have I got to lose? I hear nothing's changed, except for a little rationing.” He looked rakish for a moment as he winked at her. He was twenty years older than she, but on him it looked more like ten. He was probably the best-looking man in town, and he knew it. “Care to come with me?” As attractive as he was, he no longer appealed to her.
“No thanks.” She gave him an airy smile, and then wagged a finger at him. “Now don't start that again. You've behaved yourself through this whole picture, Chris.”
“Of course, that was work. This is different.”
“Oh is that it?” She was about to say something to tease him, but suddenly the chaos around them seemed to heighten and a page ran onto the set screeching something Faye couldn't discern. For a moment, panic registered on a number of faces, and then shock, and then there were tears, and Faye still hadn't heard what had happened. She pulled anxiously at Chris Arnold's sleeve, her eyes anxious. “What did he say … ? What … ?” Chris was speaking to someone to his right, and Faye was straining to hear above the din.
“My God …” He turned to her with a look of amazement. And then without thinking he pressed her to him in a huge hug again, and she could hear his voice tremble when he spoke to her. “It's all over, Faye … the war is over. The Japanese have surrendered.” It had ended in Europe only months before, and now finally it was all over. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she was crying as she hugged him back. Suddenly everyone on the set was crying and laughing, others had joined them, and fresh cases of champagne were opened. Everyone was shouting now. “It's over! It's over!” No longer the film.,. but the war.
It felt like hours before she left the set to go back to her house in Beverly Hills, and the pain of finishing the movie was long since gone. It had been totally eclipsed by her joy that the war was over. It seemed amazing. She had been twenty-one years old when Pearl Harbor was bombed, and now here she was twenty-five years old, grown up, a woman, at the summit of her career.
This had to be the summit, she told herself that every year. She couldn't imagine anything improving from this point on. How could it? And yet it had. The roles got better and bigger and more important, the praise more lavish, the money more unbelievable each year. The only blemish in it all came when her parents died. It made her sad that her parents were no longer alive to enjoy it with her. They had both died the previous year. Her father of cancer, her mother in a car accident on an icy Pennsylvania road near Youngstown. She had tried to get her to come out to live in California with her, after her father died, but her mother hadn't wanted to give up her home. So now she had no one. The little house in Grove City, Pennsylvania, had been sold the year before. She had no sisters or brothers. And other than the faithful couple who worked for her in the small handsome house she had bought in Beverly Hills, Faye Price was alone. She seldom felt lonely though, there were too many people around her for that. She enjoyed her work and her friends. And yet, it was odd not having any family now. No one she “belonged” to. It still surprised her that she had become so successful, and her life had become so lavish in such a short time. Even at twenty-one, when the war had broken out, her life had been different. But now, ever since her last USO tour two years before, things had settled down. She had bought the house, made six pictures in two years, and although she had intended to go on tour again, she had never had the time. Life seemed to be an endless round of premieres and publicity pictures and press parties, and when she wasn't doing that, she was getting up at five o'clock in the morning and going to work on a film. Her next picture was scheduled to start in five weeks, and she was already reading the script for hours every night before she went to sleep, and now that she had just finished the movie she'd been working on, she could really get down to work. The new one was a sure Oscar for her, her agent had told her. But she always laughed when he said that … it was a ridiculous thought … except that she had already won one, and been nominated two other times. But Abe insisted this film would be a big one, and Faye believed him. In an odd way, he had become a father figure for her.
She turned her car right on Summit Drive, past Pickfair and the Chaplins, and a moment later reached her own home as the man who spent his days in the little gate house, opening the gate for deliveries and friends, or Miss Price herself, ran out with a smile for her.
“Have a nice day, Miss Price?” He was ancient and white-haired and grateful for the job. He had been working for her now for over a year.
“I sure did, Bob. Did you hear the news?” He looked blank. “The war is over!” She beamed at him and tears came to his eyes. He had been too old to go to the First World War himself, but he had lost his only son. And now, in this war, it reminded him every day of the grief he and his wife had felt way back then.
“Are you sure, ma'am?”
“Positive. It's all over.” She reached out and shook his hand.
“Thank God.” His voice trembled and he turned his head to wipe his eyes. But he didn't apologize to her when he looked back into the lovely face. “Thank God.” She wanted to kiss him for all that they both felt, but she smiled, and waited for him to quietly open the large handsome brass gates which he kept shined to perfection at all times.
“Thank you, Bob.”
“Goodnight, Miss Price.” He would come up to the house later for dinner in the kitchen with her butler and maid, but Faye wouldn't see him again until she drove out again the next day. And if she chose to stay at home, she wouldn't see him at all. He only worked in the daytime, and at night, her butler, Arthur, drove for her, and would open the gate himself with his key. Most of the time, Faye preferred to drive herself. She had bought a beautiful Lincoln Continental with a convertible top, in a deep shade of blue, and she was perfectly content to drive around Los Angeles herself. Except at night when Arthur drove her out in the Rolls. It had seemed a shocking thing to buy at first, and she had almost been too embarrassed to admit it was hers, but it was such a beautiful machine that she hadn't been able to resist. And there was still a certain excitement as she stepped into it, the rich smell of leather everywhere, the thick gray carpeting beneath her feet. Even the wood in the magnificent car was totally unique, and finally she had decided what the hell. At twenty-five, her success no longer embarrassed her as it once had. She had a right to it, “more or less,” she teased herself, and she wasn't hurting anyone. She had no one else to spend her money on, and she was making so damn much of it. It was hard to know what to do with it all. She had invested some, on her agent's advice, but the rest just sat there and waited to get spent, and she was far less extravagant than most of the stars of her day. Most of them were wearing emeralds and diamonds to the floor, buying tiaras they couldn't afford, to parade around in at openings of other people'sfilms, sable coats and ermine and chinchillas. Faye was far more restrained in what she wore, and what she did, alth
ough she did have some beautiful clothes which she enjoyed, and two or three very beautiful fur coats. There was a white fox coat that she adored, she looked like an exquisite blond eskimo when she buried herself in it on a cold night. She had worn it just the winter before in New York, and she had actually heard people gasp as she walked past them. And then there was a dark chocolate sable she had bought in France, and a sensible mink she kept for “everyday,” she thought with a laugh … “just my everyday mink,” she grinned to herself, as she pulled the Lincoln up outside the house. How life had changed since she was a little girl. She had always wanted to have a second pair of shoes, for “dress up,” but her parents had been so poor back then. The Depression had hit them hard, and both of her parents had been out of work for a long, long time. Her father had wound up doing odd jobs, and hating everything about his life. Her mother had finally found a job as a secretary. But it all seemed so dreary to Faye. That was why the movies had always seemed so magical to her. It was the perfect escape for hours and hours and hours. She would save every penny she could lay her little fingers on, and then off she'd go to sit in the dark, gaping at what she saw. Maybe that was in the back of her head after all when she went to New York to find work as a model … and now here she was, walking up the three pink marble steps to her own house in Beverly Hills, as a serious-faced English butler opened, the door to her, and in spite of himself he smiled into her eyes. He couldn't resist the “young miss,” as he called her in private to his wife. She was the nicest employer they had ever had, they agreed, and certainly the youngest by far. And she had never acquired what they referred to as “Hollywood ways.” She didn't seem overly impressed with who she was, and she was always pleasant and polite and thoughtful to them. The house was a pleasure to run, and there was very little to do. Faye seldom entertained, and she was working most of the time, so all they had to do was keep things neat and clean, and running smoothly for her, a task Arthur and Elizabeth both enjoyed.
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