Starlight
Alexandra Richland
Copyright © 2013 Alexandra Richland
All rights reserved.
Starlight is a work of historical fiction. Apart from the well-known people, events and locales that figure in the narrative, all names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to current events or locales, or to living persons is entirely coincidental.
Published by Alexandra Richland
Edited by Toni Rakestraw
Cover Image Copyright 2013 Avner
Used under license by Shutterstock.com
Cover design by Morwenna Rakestraw
Rakestraw Book Design http://rakestrawbookdesign.com
Dedication
Elia Kazan, my favorite director,
and the author of one of the greatest books I have ever read, A Life
James Dean, for his brilliant portrayal of Cal Trask in East of Eden
Marlon Brando, for his outstanding performance as Terry Malloy in On the Waterfront.
Acknowledgments
Mike, my soulmate, and the only guy I know with better hair than James Dean.
Deb, Lauren, Maggie, Shey, Tiffany, and Toni: This book would not have been possible without your support and talents. My sincerest thanks.
Thanks dpgroup forum.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Excerpt from Starbright
About the Author
Once in a dream I saw a man
With haggard face and tangled hair
And eyes that nursed as wild a care
As gaunt starvation ever can;
And in his hand he held a wand
Whose magic touch gave life and thought
Unto a form his fancy wrought
And robed with coloring so grand
It seemed a reflex of some child
Of heaven, fair and undefiled-
A face of purity and love-
To woo him into worlds above:
And as I gazed with dazzled eyes,
A gleaming smile lit up his lips
As his bright soul from its eclipse
Went flashing into Paradise.
Then tardy Fame came through the door
And found a picture
Nothing more.
– James Whitcomb Riley
Prologue
The whole place seemed to have been stricken with a kind of creeping paralysis––out of beat with the rest of the world, crumbling apart in slow motion.
— William Holden as JOE GILLIS, Sunset Boulevard (1951)
On his new Triumph motorcycle, Aidan Evans peeled onto the grounds of the abandoned renaissance-style Getty mansion on South Irving Boulevard, entering the romantic ruins of a past world: sunken gardens, waterless fountains, stone balustrades, and rococo candelabra. The low rumble of his bike echoed off the courtyard, the only sign of life among the desolate land aside from himself. Though, in his opinion, the latter was questionable.
It was nighttime, when man and the universe were most resonant. Aidan had fled his rented Hollywood apartment at midnight in a desperate attempt to keep awake. His first stop was Googie’s Coffee Shop. Then he took a hasty journey along Mulholland Drive, presiding over a twinkling town he would never call home. Not that he had any family in the true sense of the word, or anyone who loved him elsewhere. He just knew where he didn’t belong.
For reasons unknown, he ended up here.
Stopping on a patch of wilted grass, he cut the engine and dismounted. The air felt charged and still, accompanied by humidity that lingered from the day and cast an eerie fog throughout the property.
He removed his navy blue windbreaker and hung it on the handlebar of his motorcycle, revealing the white T-shirt he wore underneath. His short brown hair was tousled, a product of his wild ride and a natural inclination for nonconformity; his worn blue jeans met with scuffed leather boots.
On a path cut by the full moon, he sauntered across cracked concrete and mosaic tile to the empty swimming pool, in which, just two years prior, at the conclusion of the film Sunset Boulevard, the bloody body of Joe Gillis drifted. Now, it was nothing but dust and rubble.
Mr. Gillis was a down-on-his-luck scriptwriter who some believed fell victim to fate. Others realized the truth: He was done in by the choices he made in an effort to stay afloat in an environment poisoned by the decline of a studio system and the desperation of faded stars to reclaim past glory.
With the dark abyss at his feet, Aidan fished his crumpled package of Winstons out of the back pocket of his jeans and drew a cigarette to his lips. As he bowed his head to light up, the solitary flame of his match fought valiantly to eliminate the stubborn shadow draped across his face. With a flick of his hand, the fire was extinguished, and the match tossed to the ground.
Enveloped in smoke and seclusion, he savored the drag from his cigarette. His current position at the edge of the empty pool was very fitting. In life, he felt as if he stood at a precipice. Filming commenced on his first motion picture in four weeks. He didn’t know what to expect in the coming months, or how he would fare emotionally throughout the process. In fact, he regretted his decision to accept the role in the first place.
Although he arrived in Los Angeles only three days ago, he was already planning his escape back to New York City upon completion of the film. Back to live theater and television, to the Actors Studio. He fit the cadence better in Manhattan and preferred to entertain his misery and demons in the absence of constant sunlight and palm trees.
As a Method actor, Aidan felt motion pictures seemed so … permanent. He could tackle multiple takes of one scene differently, but in the end the audience only saw one performance. He was used to the stage, where every time the curtain rose he could play his part with the emotions he felt at that particular moment without the safety of knowing someone would call cut if his performance was less than satisfactory. It made the show
all the more real and forced actors to strive for perfection with every line, every action. Indolence was unacceptable, and diligence and passion reigned supreme.
Live television was also a one-shot deal, but at least he had the satisfaction of knowing that his performance was delivered straight to the viewers unfiltered, without other people deciding what stayed and what ended up on the cutting room floor. He favored being the master of his performances, but out here in Hollywood he knew he would meet a lot of resistance. Unfortunately for Starlight Motion Picture Studios, he would quit the film before he ever compromised on his methods, regardless of the legal repercussions, lost wages, or the brilliance of his lead role.
While he considered himself an actor, his was not a shallow existence pursued by vanity and greed. He chased art and solitude, an outlet for his pain and guilt, and, though highly unattainable for someone like him, redemption.
Exhaling the remaining smoke from his lungs, he pitched his cigarette into the vacant pool and looked to the inky sky, bathed in dim light and disenchantment. Predictions had already been made that he was marked for success. Whether he was also marked for happiness was another question entirely.
Life can be beautiful.
– William Holden as JOE GILLIS, Sunset Boulevard (1951)
Chapter One
The bells above the front door chimed as Marie Bates entered Schwab’s Pharmacy for her regular Thursday shift. At the counter to her right, the breakfast crowd had settled in for bagels, caffeine, and morning gossip. It was nearly nine o’clock. She had gone to bed late the night before and felt too tired to serve patrons for the next eight hours. The drugstore did have its exciting moments every now and then, though, and her salary covered her monthly bills, so she couldn’t really complain. Also, the reality was that if she ever wanted to afford teachers’ college, she needed the money from this job badly.
Schwab’s Pharmacy was one of the most popular spots in Los Angeles for famous people, regular folk, and regular folk who wished they were famous. It was also common knowledge that many people wanted to work there in hopes of a being discovered.
The rumor was that legendary blonde-bombshell, Lana Turner, was discovered at Schwab’s while she sipped a malt at the counter. As with most things in Hollywood, the story was entirely false. It was actually the Top Hat Café at McCadden and Sunset, and she was drinking a Coke, not a milkshake. However, when Schwab’s employees were asked if the tale was true, they always smiled and insisted it was. After all, a story like that was good for business.
After placing her purse and coat in her locker in the employee’s lounge, Marie stopped by the mirror and secured her dark brown ponytail. The light blue scarf tied at the base completed her simple ’do. Although curly hair was the trend, she found that particular style too much maintenance.
Marie squinted at her reflection. In Hollywood, the hub of glitz and glamour, her look was nothing special. Her skin was too pale, her long hair too straight and uncooperative, and her wardrobe was more economical than stylish. She was often complimented on her large brown eyes and high cheekbones but she still felt her appearance was plain, especially compared to her co-workers.
Not only was Marie’s style different from all of the other Schwab’s employees, but she wasn’t interested in getting into show business like they were. She moved to Los Angeles, California from Clarkson, Oregon because she grew tired of the constant rain and small town living. Furthermore, there were very few career possibilities in Clarkson, and Santa Monica College offered a prestigious teaching program.
Marie’s father, John Bates, was the local shoe repairman, a job that earned him just enough to raise a family in a small town comfortably. Her mother, Barbara, was a homemaker. Barbara was not an ambitious woman. She remained in Clarkson, her hometown, and happily settled into the role of wife and mother.
Marie, the only child in the Bates household, had different aspirations. Being a housewife and stay-at-home mother didn’t appeal to her. She wanted to explore the country and all of what life had to offer. Consequently, when she turned eighteen eight months ago in October 1952, she knew it was now or never. She made the bold move to California with her meager life savings and three suitcases, despite the fact that in Clarkson, it was uncommon and frowned upon for a young woman to do so.
Although Marie initially felt intimidated by the move and wondered if she had made a mistake, after she found her roommate, Olivia Weston, the transition from small town to big city living became easier. Olivia was a peppy, fearless optimist, who attended the Fashion Design program at Santa Monica College.
A few days after Marie’s arrival in Los Angeles, she met Olivia on campus. On her hunt for the admissions office to obtain additional information on the college, she became lost and Olivia approached and offered to escort her to the correct building. During their walk, Marie discovered Olivia was from Portland, Oregon, and like her, eighteen years old and new to Los Angeles.
Olivia was in her first year at the college and in desperate need of a roommate. She rented a room at a motel, which was becoming much too costly for her, while Marie had taken up temporary residency at a women’s lodging run by a local church. Since they were both in need of a more practical, permanent dwelling, they exchanged contact information. Within a week, they were rooming together
It was a wonderful stroke of luck that Marie and Olivia crossed paths that day. They became fast friends and their living situation worked out perfectly. They rented a two-bedroom apartment on Luxor Avenue, just off Sunset Boulevard. Although the space was small, they made do just fine. Marie missed her childhood friend from Clarkson and was glad she found a new friend in Los Angeles.
Marie applied for a job at Schwab’s Pharmacy simply because it was within walking distance from their rented apartment. She didn’t have a car so having a job close to home was ideal. At the time, she hadn’t heard the Lana Turner rumor, nor was she aware that Schwab’s was an in-demand employer.
When she walked into Schwab’s to pass off her resume, wearing a gray pencil skirt and white blouse, she thought she had dressed up for the occasion. She quickly realized how wrong she was. The staff put her to shame, dressed in their trendy fashions. The women wore enough makeup to make Betty Grable jealous and the men were as neatly coiffed as Cary Grant. She was shocked with the manager’s decision to hire her on the spot after only a brief interview.
Later, Marie learned from another employee that the last counter girl, Linda, whom Marie had replaced, left abruptly in the middle of her shift after a customer told her he could help her get into motion pictures. As a result, the owner was in a jam and Marie just happened to come along at the right time. Unfortunately, the customer actually held no such connections, and Linda lost her job as well as her dream of becoming a movie star, all in one afternoon.
It was only when Marie returned to the apartment following her interview and told Olivia all about her new job that she learned how special Schwab’s was. Marie thought Olivia would pass out from excitement. Even after learning the truth about her new employer, she didn’t share her friend’s enthusiasm, though. After all, a job was a job.
Although Marie’s reason for working at Schwab’s varied drastically from the other employees, she still made friends with her co-workers quickly. Ultimately, she believed her disinterest in the entertainment industry worked to her advantage. While everyone else allowed their celebrity aspirations to influence how they dressed and acted in public, she was able to relax and be herself, without worrying about trying to impress anyone.
Before leaving the back room, Marie tied her white Schwab’s apron around her slim frame and smoothed it down over her black pedal pushers and white blouse. Unlike her female co-workers, comfortable black flats completed her outfit. High heels didn’t appeal to her since she always spent her entire shift on her feet.
“So, Miss Bates, are you ready for another exciting day at the office?” Diane Merritt greeted with a roll of her eyes.
Marie gig
gled and joined her co-worker behind the counter.
Diane was twenty-one years old and worked at Schwab’s in hopes of being discovered. That fact was evident in her glamorous attire, hair, and makeup. Today, her auburn locks were set in large curls, modeled after her favorite actress, Ava Gardner. She wore red lipstick, black high heels, and her dark eyeliner, false eyelashes, and gold eye shadow accentuated her hazel irises, giving her a wide-eyed and innocent look. Although from the stories she told Marie, she was far from innocent. Marie wasn’t surprised. This was Hollywood. Nothing was as it seemed.
Diane’s black skirt and light pink wool sweater showed off her curves, especially her ample bosom—something Marie wasn’t blessed with. Even in her apron, Diane looked too classy for the establishment. Then again, every staff member except Marie looked too classy for the establishment, so maybe she was the one who wasn’t right for Schwab’s Pharmacy in the end.
Watching Diane at work was always entertaining. If a customer entered Schwab’s who had the possibility of being someone important, she became a completely new person. Gone was the girl from Bucks, Pennsylvania, and in her place, a charming vixen.
Diane flashed her best Gardner smirk and leaned over the counter to say, “Why, hello, what can I get for you?”
Marie got a kick out of Diane’s transformation, and just for fun, they often scanned the drugstore and picked out patrons, whom they jokingly referred to as her next “victims.” Diane was a sweet girl and very dedicated to her movie star goal. Marie really hoped one day soon she would achieve her dream.
Diane lifted her manicured eyebrows. “Did you hear who came in here yesterday evening around seven o’clock?”
“Who?” Marie replied, pretending she was interested.
“Tyrone Power!” Diane tossed her hands up for the full effect. “Oh, you should have seen this gorgeous specimen. I mean, okay, I know he is, like, totally older than me, and married, but to see him up close, buying Chesterfields here, where I work, was just heavenly.”
Marie smiled. If dramatics was everything, then Diane really did have what it took to become an actress. She loved to tell her celebrity encounter stories and spoke with such enthusiasm it was as though she’d never met a famous person before.
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