Looking for a Love Story (20 page)

For a second she was still. Then she laughed. “Doll Face, I’m sorry. I’d forget my head if wasn’t on my shoulders.”

“It was a mistake!” It was stupid how happy that made me.

Chicky took a battered checkbook out of her nightstand, wrote out a check with a flourish, and handed it to me. “Here you go,” she said.

“Thank you,” I said, and then I hugged her. After a second she hugged me back. Then she pulled away to look at me.

“You really are enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” she asked. “You like this story?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“It makes it easier to write,” I started to say, but she wasn’t paying attention. She was looking at the picture on the wall. Then she turned back to me. “It’s the little gifts you don’t expect, Doll Face. You don’t know where they’re going to come from, but when they show up they make it all worthwhile. It took me too long to learn that.”

I thought about this job I hadn’t wanted to take because it was beneath me. “I’ll try to remember that,” I said.

She turned to the picture again. “There’s always a second chance—that’s one of the things I love most about life.”

I DEPOSITED CHICKY’S
check on the way home. I bought some fancy dog biscuits for Annie and some more chocolate bars for me, and I raced from the store to my apartment building. For the next two days, I listened to Chicky’s tapes. When I’d heard the
last one, I opened the laptop and started the first tape over again. “My mother joined the act, and Masters, George, and Doran toured together for the next twenty weeks,” said Chicky’s voice. “Then all hell broke loose.”

I turned off the tape recorder and started to write.

CHAPTER 19

New Palton, New York
1919

The Mansion House was like dozens of other hotels in dozens of small towns all over the country. The elevators were slow, the hallways were lit with five-watt bulbs, fish was served four nights a week, and the clerk was never happy to see performers walk in because his preacher and his mother said they weren’t respectable—even though he should have been used to them because his hotel was two doors down from the theater. Ellie had been staying in places like the Mansion House, and places that were much worse, since she was six years old, so she’d never expected life to be easy. She’d blistered her hands carrying the theater trunk off the train in Pittsfield when Pa didn’t have enough money to hire a porter, she’d gotten frostbite walking to the theater when the temperature in Minnesota was thirty below, and she’d sprained her ankle when the rotten stage floor had given way under her in Kingston, New York. But no matter how bad things
had gotten, Ellie had never been as miserable as she was right now, sitting on the bed in her dark little room at the Mansion House. Sitting and praying that three o’clock this afternoon would never come.

If anyone had said three months ago, back in New Rochelle, that she’d be in this mess, she would have told them to go to hell. Or she would have laughed.

New Rochelle was where it had all started. Joe Masters had shown up at her dressing room door with his raw steak for her eye, where Pa had hit her, and because Joe seemed nice she’d let her guard down. Then, after the last show, Benny had knocked on the same door with a red rose. And his smile. And the plan he was proposing.

“You’re Ellie,” he’d said. She’d nodded. “I’m Joe Masters’ partner.”

She’d nodded again, because all of a sudden she was tongue-tied. She’d seen Benny George from a distance, and she’d known he was handsome. Every woman in the show knew that. But now he was standing in front of her. Now she could see the rogue strand of thick blond hair, curling over his forehead, and the fullness of his mouth. She could feel the warmth of his blue eyes. Somehow she’d never thought blue eyes could be warm, but his proved her wrong. He was looking down at her, and the warmth was all around her like a lovely hot bath. Yet there was something a little sad about him. She wanted to know more about that … maybe someday…. She came out of her trance fast. She remembered that she and Florrie and Dot were packing their trunk because they’d been canned one more time. And she’d been crying, so she looked a mess.

“May I talk to you for a moment?” Benny had asked.

They had to catch the train to the city and they were running late. She should send him on his way. But those blue eyes were still
gazing at her. And he was acting as if he didn’t see the mascara that had run down her face or the black eye that was starting to show under her stage makeup. So she’d said, “Why not?” And she’d stepped out into the hallway.

He’d hesitated as if he didn’t know how to start. Then he’d handed her the flower. “This is for our new partnership,” he said. “If you’re willing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He gave her another smile—did anyone else in the world have a smile that was as confident and reassuring as his? It could make you believe in angels and miracles. “I could try to pretend I didn’t know what happened to your act, but you’re too smart for that,” he’d said, and she’d felt her face turn scarlet with embarrassment.

“Your partner talks a lot,” she’d said.

“He can,” Benny had said. “But this time, I’m glad he did. He told me you have to quit the business.” He’d paused, as if he was a little hesitant about paying her a compliment. “I can’t let that happen to the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he’d finally said.

A part of her thought it was probably a line, but she decided she didn’t care. He was being kind to her after one of the worst days of her life. He’d given her a rose. And he was so handsome.

“What do you have in mind?” she’d asked.

He’d told her about his dissatisfaction with his act—especially the finish. He’d decided they needed a girl to spice it up, and he’d seen her onstage and knew she had the goods. “And that’s not malarkey or me feeling sorry for you,” he’d said. “I’ve got a feeling about you.”

When he’d said that, she’d thought he wasn’t handing her a line—not totally. Young as she was, she’d had plenty of men promise her things because of her looks, but Benny had cared enough to watch her work onstage. She wasn’t sure she agreed with him about her talent; she’d never been sure she was a good performer.
But he was offering her an escape from Brooklyn. And Pa. And who knew? Maybe she really did have the goods. “Where do I sign up?” she’d asked.

Benny’s eyes had lit up. “You mean it? You’ll do it?”

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d made anyone this happy. She couldn’t remember when she’d been so happy herself. “Are you kidding? You’re giving me the best break of my life.”

“And you’re giving me …” He trailed off. “Well, I just hope you never find out what you’re giving me.”

“Why?”

“Because I wouldn’t want anyone to have that much of a hold on me.” There was no wink, no knowing smile when he said it. Normally the men she’d known didn’t make themselves vulnerable like that.

“Do you mean that?” she heard herself ask. And she could have bitten her tongue because it sounded like she was accusing him of something. But he suddenly looked thoughtful.

“Yes,” he said finally. “I think I do mean it.” And she could tell he hadn’t expected to feel that way, and she suspected it had surprised him. But in the next moment he had thrown it off. “There’s just one thing,” he went on. “I haven’t told Joe about this yet.”

“He wouldn’t stop you from giving me the job, would he? Could he do that?”

“I won’t let him say no.”

“If he doesn’t want me—”

“It’s my act too.”

“But—”

“I’m promising you it will be all right,” he said. And once again, he was looking at her with those warm eyes. “Trust me, Ellie?” he asked quietly.

She nodded.

His face seemed to explode with happiness. “I want to take you
out to supper right now to celebrate! Let me see that smile again. The world is a better place when you smile, Ellie Doran.”

So she had smiled. And she had gone to supper with him. He had ordered root beer and chili and he had told her they were going to pretend it was champagne and lobster. And even after his partner showed up, looking sour-faced, Benny had made the night light and happy. She was probably in love with him even back then.

Over the next three months she’d learned about him—and herself. She discovered that she loved Benny’s self-confidence. The years of defeat with Pa, of being the worst act on the bill and running around the country playing dives and living in dumps, had almost killed her self-esteem. But Benny believed in himself. “I’m going to make it big,” he told her, after she’d been his girl for a couple of months. “I’m not going to be broke forever. I’m going to have the best of everything, clothes and a car and a big penthouse on Park Avenue, and everyone in New York will know my name. And someday I’m going to settle down, and—” He’d stopped short. “But that’s not something I talk about,” he said, and he looked at Ellie. “You’re turning me into a blabbermouth.”

“I do my best,” she said sweetly. But she could tell he was surprised at himself again. “Why shouldn’t you talk about what you hope for?”

“It’s a long way off. I have a lot to do before it all happens. There’s no point in talking about it now.”

Ellie had nodded. But he’d said the words
settle down
. And even though he hadn’t meant to talk about it, he had.
To me
, she’d thought.
I’m the one he told!

Ellie wasn’t clear about how Benny’s big success was going to happen, because he wasn’t even a little enthusiastic about working on the act. But she’d believed in him. With his classy way of talking and his confident air, he already stood out from the other
vaudevillians. He had a way of walking into a room like he was a prince. And when she was with him, Ellie was his princess.

Ellie got up and went into the bathroom to pat some cold water on her face. Most of the rooms at the Mansion House shared common bathrooms—usually one to a floor—but she had her own. Joe was the one who insisted on that luxury for her wherever they stayed.

Joe was a hard one for Ellie to read. When she and Benny had first popped the idea of her joining the act to Joe, she’d thought he was going to have a fit, he’d looked so mad. But he’d said yes, and the next day he’d started coming up with lines for her. Sometimes, in the beginning, it had seemed to Ellie as if Joe was doing more to work her into the act than Benny was, even though the idea had been Benny’s. Joe was willing to rehearse with her until she felt absolutely secure, and when they were onstage he set up her one punch line so that she always got her laugh. Benny, on the other hand, hated to rehearse. He preferred to wing it onstage, which terrified Ellie. And even though she owed him everything, she had to admit that Benny never set up anyone to get a laugh, only himself. She felt safer acting with Joe. But when they were offstage she didn’t know what to think about him. One minute he’d act as if he resented her being around, then a minute later he’d be insisting that she have a private bathroom.

“Don’t think about it,” Benny advised her once when she brought it up. “Joe’s an odd duck, I don’t understand him myself.”

Benny was never moody. He gave her a rose every day. He sat next to her on the train during their long jumps, and he listened to her stories about the early days when she trooped with Pa and Florrie and Dot. Sometimes he catnapped with his head resting cozily on her shoulder.

Joe made her laugh. On their train rides, he would read stories from the newspaper out loud and make up monologues about
them that had her—and the rest of the train car—in stitches. But then, all of a sudden, he’d be back in one of his bad moods again, so she figured you couldn’t count on Joe.

Benny took her to supper every night after the show—they would always pretend it was lobster and champagne—and he held her hand when they walked back to the hotel. He could make her forget every worry she had. Even when she’d gotten more bad news about Pa from her sister Florrie.

Pa had moved in with Florrie and her husband, but he hadn’t stopped drinking. If anything, he had gotten worse. Sometimes it seemed to Ellie as if there was a letter from Florrie in every town she played. And each letter was the same: Pa had gotten into a fight or a jam of some kind, and Florrie needed money to get him out of it. And Ellie, who felt guilty because she’d skipped out on them, sent whatever she had.

“What the hell are you helping him for?” Joe would demand, when she asked for another advance on her pay. “He was bad to you.”

“Leave her alone,” Benny would say. “He’s her father. You don’t want to walk away from a parent. Never.” And that would always silence Joe.

Benny seemed to understand that even if you didn’t want to live with your pa and take care of him, that didn’t mean you didn’t love him. Or that you’d forgotten the days when he was a good father, before all the trouble had started. After a letter came from Florrie, if Ellie was upset, Benny would take her to a park, so she could feed the birds with the crusts she’d saved from her lunch, or he’d buy her a hot fudge sundae because he’d discovered that was her favorite treat. He would sip seltzer water—he never ate sweets—and he would tell her his dreams, and the time would pass until she was feeling better and they had to go to the theater.