Can't Buy Me Love

by Abigail Drake

  Oren sat up. “What about Tillie?”

  He’d had spat out the question before he’d fully formed the idea in his mind. She’d be great for the part. He’d get to sing with her again. She’d have to come out to Hollywood. The more he thought of it, the more Oren thought it a perfect scenario.

  “No.” George made a slashing motion with his hand. “The studio will never go for her.”

  Oren’s pulse sped as he took offense on her behalf. “Why not? She was spectacular last night. You know as well as I do that she could be America’s next sweetheart.”

  “That’s the problem. She’s too sweet. Every actress needs to have an edge to them, even if isn’t something they let the public see. It gives them versatility. Tillie Parker is apple pie and vanilla ice cream. Frankly, I think Hollywood would eat a girl like her alive.”

  Oren sat back in is booth and crossed his arms over chest, flashing George a quizzical look. “You can’t be serious.”

  George propped his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Listen, Oren. She’s not ready for a gig like this. Let her pay her dues on Broadway, work a few more chorus girl roles, and gain some life experience.”

  Oren exhaled a heavy breath through his nostrils. “You’re wrong about her.”

  “We’ll see.” George sat back as the waitress placed a plate of eggs, sausage, and toast in front of him. “A producer is flying out in a week to meet with you and conduct a few closed auditions. Bring the girl along, if you like. Just keep her away from Blanche, will you? She’ll do her best to ruin any actress younger and more talented than she is.”

  “Brilliant idea.”

  As he reached across the table and took a piece of George’s toast, Oren wondered if Tillie would let him talk to her long enough to tell her about the producer.

  ***

  Tillie stifled a yawn with the back of her hand as she grabbed an order pad and tucked it into her uniform. After the cab ride home from The Blue Bar, she’d been awake to watch the sunrise. Even though Norma had agreed to cover the breakfast shift so Tillie could get some much-needed shut-eye, she laid awake in her bed, daydreaming about the possibilities which might be borne out of her impromptu performance. Sometimes, and only sometimes, she’d think about how much it hurt when she realized Oren had left without saying goodbye.

  Norma came behind the bar, scanning her order pad. “Are you ready to take over from here, Till?”

  Tillie yawned into her shoulder this time. “Of course. Go. Please. Enjoy your day.”

  “Ten’s my last table.” Norma tore a sheet from her pad and handed it to Tillie. “Let’s split the tip.”

  “Deal.” Tillie took the slip and looked it over. Two burgers, two sodas, two orders of fries. It didn’t get much easier. “Thanks again for coming in on your day off.”

  Norma flicked her wrist. “Don’t worry about it. You covered for me a couple of weeks ago when I had that audition. It’s what friends do.”

  “Burgers and fries,” the cook called as he slammed two plates down on the counter.

  “Here, you go.” Norma picked up the plates, spun, and passed them over to Tillie. “Already gave them a bottle of ketchup.”

  Tillie took the plates and kissed Norma on the cheek. “Go enjoy the rest of your day. Don’t make me keep saying it.”

  As Norma readied to leave, Tillie delivered the burgers to table ten. Then, she poured herself a cup of coffee. She’d need it if she were going to stay awake. She hadn’t been tired at the party, but now her adrenaline had worn off.

  After a few sips, Tillie noticed a man at the end of the bar with his head buried in a paper. She pulled out her order pad and used it to stifle one more yawn as she walked over.

  Wearing her practiced smile, knowing it lacked its usual brightness, she started, “Good afternoon, I’m Tillie and I’ll be your—”

  “Tillie.” Oren tugged the paper to reveal the top half of his face. “We need to talk.”

  A gasp escaped her. She hadn’t known if she would ever see Oren again and she certainly hadn’t expected it to be so soon. She was angry for his flippant treatment of her, but she swallowed down her feelings. Maybe he’d come to make things right. It wouldn’t excuse what he did, but years of loving Oren from afar had softened her heart on him.

  Her brows pinched together. “About what?”

  Oren tugged the paper even lower to expose the rest of his face. “Your career.”

  “If last night was any indication, my career is in tip-top shape.” She scribbled in her pad to make it appear as if she was jotting down an order. “I suppose I should thank you. If you hadn’t asked me to sing, I probably would have slunk around the whole party in your shadow like a mouse hoping to snatch a piece of cheese.”

  “Have you gotten any job offers?” Oren asked in a clipped tone.

  “No, but—”

  “I talked to George this morning. MGM’s casting a Me and Juliet film. I’ll keep my part as Larry, but they’re looking for someone to play Jeanie.”

  Tillie’s pulse sped. “Is George going to recommend me for the role?”

  “That’s the thing.” Oren peeked over both shoulders, then dropped his voice to hover just above a whisper. “George thinks you’re too pure. Too innocent. Not just for this role. For all of them. He thinks you need life experience, whatever the hell he means by that.”

  Her mouth formed an ‘o’. “He said that?”

  Tillie tapped her pencil on her order pad and chewed her bottom lip. She’d thought last night had gone well. George had bought her a drink and called her a star. Had she misread his reaction? Had she been so drunk off the excitement she’d lost touch with reality?

  “He did.” One corner of Oren’s mouth curled into a mischievous smirk. “But I have a plan. One that will be advantageous for both of us.”

  Tillie held up her pointer finger. “Hold on.” She quickly checked on table ten then poured a cup of coffee for Oren. He didn’t order it, but she’d need another excuse to go over there if they wanted to remain inconspicuous.

  The cup clattered in its saucer when she put it down. “What’s your plan?

  “I came to New York to reconnect with my craft and my roots, which means I’m staying away from booze and women for the time being. No one knows that, though.”

  “What does this have to do with me?” she asked, remembering the ginger ale he’d disguised as a cocktail.

  “I’m going to a dinner tonight with a composer from MGM. I’d like you to come as my girlfriend.”

  Tillie raised a brow. “And then what?”

  “And then word will start to spread that we’re together, and it’ll give you an edge.” Oren’s expression grew somber. “I owe you, anyway, after leaving so suddenly last night. I wish I could explain my behavior, but I can’t. Just know it will never happen again, and I’m sorry.”

  His apology was strange, but she was too intrigued by his offer to question him. Men like Oren didn’t usually admit fault. Or at least, she assumed so. She didn’t have much experience with the justifiably cocky type.

  Pretending to be Oren Cooper’s girlfriend would be easy enough. He was tall, handsome, and so talented it made her knees weak. The hard part would be not falling in love with him.

  Tillie tapped her bottom lip. “You really think it’ll work?”

  Oren nodded before taking a swig of coffee. “I really do.”

  If the plan did work, she could have everything she ever wanted, or almost everything. She had to give it a chance, even if it meant she might land in California with a broken heart.

  “Tomorrow night it is, then.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The ride to dinner was a quiet affair, but Oren had expected it to be. He and Tillie were business partners now. Any chance they may have had at maintaining a friendship during these shenanigans had likely been lost when he bolted from last night’s party with barely a parting glance.

  Then again, Oren didn’t want to be friends with Tillie. H
e wanted more. That’s why he’d suggested this damned scheme.

  Tillie lived so far from the fashionable part of New York it felt as if they’d been riding in the back of the Studebaker for weeks. Every so often he’d hear her delicate intake of breath and he’d hope she was about to say something, but she never did.

  Dinner had been far more pleasant. Chester Richardson, the composer, brought along two studio executives. Tillie played her part well. She smiled at Oren adoringly as he talked, touched her fingertips to his arms when she laughed at his jokes, and ate off his fork when he offered her a piece of his carrot cake.

  “So, tell me, Tillie.” Chester adjusted his black-framed glasses as he sat back in his chair. “How did a nice girl like you end up with an old Hollywood cat like Oren?”

  “It’s a simple story, actually.” She brought a hand to his shoulder. “Our families live around the corner from each other. Oren was one of my brother’s boyhood friends.”

  “You don’t say.” Chester knocked back a swallow of scotch before gesturing toward them with the nearly empty glass. “And then you reconnected here in New York?”

  “Yes.” Tillie smiled sadly. She dropped her hand from his shoulder and listlessly trailed her fingers down his arm. “I’m going to miss the ol’ boy terribly when he goes back to Hollywood.”

  Oren’s nerve endings sparked in reaction to the fleeting physicality of her affection. A thin layer of sweat had cropped up along his hairline. He’d been resisting the urge to wipe it away all evening. Casual business dinners didn’t make men like Oren Cooper sweat. Ordinarily, he exuded an air of cool confidence and acted as if the execs would do whatever he wanted.

  “You won’t go with him?” One of them asked.

  Tillie tucked a lock of shiny blonde hair behind her ear. “My career is important to me, and I want to make it to Hollywood on my own merit.”

  “That’s admirable.” He nodded at her reverently. “I hope you find success, Miss Parker. I would love to work on a soundtrack with you someday.”

  Tillie lifted her glass, which was still half-full of fizzled-out champagne. “I would like that very much.”

  Their glasses clinked, and everyone took a hearty drink. Everyone except Tillie, who merely sipped at her warm champagne. Oren admired her ability to stay in control. At dinners like these, he would rather get lost in a gin-soaked haze than deal with it straight.

  But he could see the fun in it for Tillie. She pretended to be the doting girlfriend in hopes she’d win something at the end—whether it be the lead female role in Me and Juliet or better name recognition on Broadway for future auditions. In a way, the whole affair was an extended audition. And so far, Tillie was doing quite well.

  “How about you, Cooper?” Chester pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and smacked them against the heel of his hand. “Are you looking forward to getting back to the sunshine?”

  “I suppose I am.” He draped an arm over the back of Tillie’s chair, unprepared for her to lean into him. The crotch of his pants instantly tightened at her closeness. He wouldn’t be able to go on with this charade for long without their public affections turning into ones better suited for the bedroom. “I’ll miss my girl, though. That’s for sure.”

  He ruffled her hair, hoping the gesture would help diffuse the heat building inside him. Tillie looked up at him with a playful look of annoyance, her bottom lip protruding as she patted down her bob. She looked so damn cute, so utterly frisky, he nearly kissed her.

  But then, he gathered his wits about himself and thought better of it.

  “That’s okay.” Chester puffed on his cigarette, enveloping them in a cloud of passing smoke. “She’ll give you a reason to come back to the city. How long had it been?”

  “Nearly a decade.”

  Chester let out a low whistle. “That’s a mighty long time.”

  “Sure is.”

  Oren thought of the family across the river he’d visited only twice since his return and silently vowed to make it over to see them again soon. Tillie must have felt his body stiffen, because she patted him reassuringly on the leg.

  Once the bill was paid and the party had made their way out to the sidewalk, Chester turned to Oren. “We’re heading out for a nightcap if you’d like to join us.”

  “I would love to but—”

  “No, go ahead,” Tillie interrupted him. “Have fun. I’m exhausted, and I need my beauty sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Oren held up a finger before leading Tillie down the sidewalk.

  “You’re sure you don’t want to come?” he asked, stopping just before the corner.

  “I have the breakfast shift tomorrow.” Tillie yawned into her palm. “All these early mornings and late nights are going to be the death of me.”

  Oren pressed his lips to her forehead. He lingered there longer than he intended, assuming Tillie would think it was all a part of the act.

  “Take the car. I’ll ride with Chester.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course.” Oren tipped his head toward the others. “What would they think if I let you hail a taxi?”

  Tillie’s expression fell momentarily. A glance back toward their dinner companions relit her smile. “Yes. Of course. I’ll see you then.”

  Oren’s heart skipped a few beats when he realized Tillie had wanted the offer to be genuine. Why did he have to go and say something so stupid? He would have made her take the car, even if no one was there to bear witness. If only he didn’t have to keep reminding himself that it was all pretend, maybe then he would have considered her feelings, too.

  She started toward the car and he followed to open the door. Tillie slid inside, keeping her gaze trained on the headrest on the seat in front of her.

  Oren poked his head inside. “I’ll call you tomorrow. We’ll have a drink before the show.”

  “Okay.”

  He paused, for what he didn’t know, then shut the door.

  ***

  Unable to sleep, Tillie lay on her stomach and flipped through an old craft book. She brought a lot of her textbooks out to New York with her, turning to them for advice and inspiration as needed. Unfortunately, they weren’t helping in her current situation. Sure, she’d found a chapter on how to act like you’re in love but there wasn’t anything there written about how to stop yourself from letting fiction blend into reality.

  With a sigh, Tillie slammed the cover shut and rolled onto her back. Falling in love with Oren had been inevitable. Now that she’d seen him and spent time with him—and, more importantly, sang with him—she realized she’d been in love with him all long.

  The phone rang from the living room, but Tillie ignored it. Arlene had a sister in Arizona who sometimes called after midnight. Knowing she should at least try to get some sleep, Tillie got up and placed her book on the shelf with all the others. She ran her fingers along the spines, looking for one to leave on her nightstand in case sleep didn’t come easy.

  A knock sounded on her door and she pulled her hand away like she’d been electrocuted.

  She linked her fingers behind her back. “Come in.”

  The door cracked open and Arlene poked her head in. “You have a call.”

  Judging from Arlene’s wide grin and gleaming eyes, Tillie had a feeling she knew who was calling. No one else she knew would ever dare call the apartment this late, unless there was an emergency.

  “Who is it?”

  Arlene bounced on her toes. “Oren Cooper.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks and squealed. “At least, I think it is. When I asked who was calling, he said his name was Oren but he didn’t give a last name. You don’t know any other Orens, do you? Oh, dear, this is so exciting. Listen to me. I’m rambling. You should come get the phone before Oren hangs up or thinks I’m daft for not handing the phone over. I can’t believe he’s calling here.”

  Tillie smiled for her friend’s benefit. She, too, was glad Oren called, but she wasn’t sure what to make of it. Why
call her tonight after they’d just seen each other? He’d made the nature of their relationship clear when he insisted on letting her use the car only so the MGM execs wouldn’t think it odd she got in a cab.

  “Thank you for answering.” Tillie started toward the door. “I know it’s late.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind. Truly. Now that I know Oren Cooper might call the apartment, you can bet I’ll dive for the phone every time it rings.” Arlene grabbed Tillie’s hand. “Can you introduce Norma and me to him some time?”

  Tillie pressed her lips together. She hadn’t told Arlene and Norma about her arrangement with Oren, though she might have to. If everything went according to plan, word of their relationship would reach even the smallest of players on Broadway, including her roommates. But, if she were to tell them, she wasn’t sure which version of the story to give.

  “Sure,” Tillie said, thinking it the safest answer.

  Arlene beamed. “I’m going to tell Norma. She’s going to flip.” With that she disappeared around the corner, her slippered feet padding on the carpet in quick succession.

  Tillie took the phone into her bedroom for privacy’s sake. Once she’d settled on the floor, she put the base in her lap and brought the receiver to her ear.

  “Hello.”

  “Tillie.”

  She wrapped the phone cord around a finger, momentarily pacified by the smooth, sexy way he always purred her name. “I thought you weren’t going to call until tomorrow.”

  “I said that, didn’t I? Well, I wanted to check and see if you made it home all right.”

  “I’m home, and I’m all right.”

  “Good.” The sharp intake of his breath reverberated in the receiver. It sounded like he was about to say something, then thought better of it. Tillie stopped fiddling with the phone cord and sat up, wondering why he really called. He had to know she’d gotten home safely. His driver had been the one to drop her off.

  “Is that all?”