Once Upon a Day (13 page)

The last scene to be shot was one of the exterior scenes entirely on horseback. The location was about fifty miles outside the city. By Friday afternoon, Lucy was saddle sore and tired, but she still felt excited when Charles asked if she would come by his office before she headed home. She said yes, but actually she had her driver take her home first, to change into a new shirt and jeans.

As she walked down the hall, she realized she hadn’t been in Charles’s office since all those months ago, when he first showed her the script for Joan. His office was in the same building as that of the other execs, including Walter, the producer. In fact, Walter was in Charles’s office when Lucy walked in. Some blond woman was there too, standing right next to Charles. Her nails were as perfect
as any Lucy had ever seen. Lucy noticed them because her hand was resting on Charles’s shoulder.

He was sitting behind his desk; Walter was in the chair facing him. But when Walter saw Lucy, he smiled and stood up. “And here’s our star now. Take a seat, Lucy.” After she did, he said, “Were your ears burning? We were just talking about you.”

Before she could answer, the woman said, “Hello, Lucy!” She was smiling too, so broadly that Lucy wanted to look away. “I’m Peggy, and I’ll be working on marketing and PR, that’s public relations, for the wonderful movie you and Charles have been making.”

“I’m sure she knows what ‘PR’ stands for,” Charles said sharply. “Cut to the chase. You wanted Lucy here and she’s here. Now will you tell me what all this is about?”

Lucy looked at him. He was frowning in a disgusted way that he never used on set. Peggy moved her hand and even Walter stepped back a little. But Lucy didn’t feel anything but sorry for Charles. This frown made his eyes look more uneven. The small one looked smaller, tired.

Walter said he and Peggy were there to talk about the studio’s concerns about the marketability of the movie. Charles said he didn’t want any of his actors involved in that topic, end of discussion. “Lucy, I’m sorry to drag you over here for nothing. You can go.”

She started to stand up, but Peggy said, “Wait, Lucy. This involves you too.”

“I want to ask you both what you might term a moral question,” Walter said, nodding at Charles. “Suppose you had something you thought the whole world needed to hear. What would you be willing to do to make sure the message got out?”

“Walter—” Charles began.

“It’s a good question,” Peggy said brightly. “If you don’t want to answer, let Lucy give it a shot.”

“I would do anything I could to get the message out,” Lucy said.

Charles turned to her. “How about lying? Because that’s where they’re going with this, I guarantee you.” He exhaled loudly. “Every
movie they try to do this. Anything for press.” His voice grew sarcastic. “Got an actor who’s Cherokee? How about someone who can handle snakes? Would one of your people be willing to say they were thrown from a horse during taping? How about the leading man and woman pretending they’ve fallen in love?”

Walter shook his head. “It’s different this time. You write a story with a death ending and you can’t be surprised if the movie dies. You know that as well as I do.” He turned to Lucy. “All we want you to do is help us make sure that your wonderful movie has a chance to be seen. Don’t you want your family back in . . .” He looked at Peggy.

“Missouri,” she said, reading from notes.

“Missouri, yes. Don’t you want your family back in Missouri to see you in such an incredible performance?”

Charles smirked. “You haven’t even kept up with the dailies, Walter.”

Walter was still smiling at Lucy. “But I trust you and I’ve seen enough to know you’re right. She’s given an incredible performance.”

“I don’t have any family left in Missouri,” Lucy said. “But I do want people all over the country to see this. I think the movie has an important message about believing in something so much, you’re willing to die for it.”

Lucy had heard Charles say this dozens of times, but he was frowning again at Walter. “If you convince this girl to violate her principles in the name of making money—”

“I need money though,” Lucy said. “And I want to help the movie get to theaters.”

“Of course you do,” Peggy said.

“No you don’t,” Charles said.

“Yes I do.”

“Let me handle this,” Charles said to her. “You don’t understand what they’re asking.”

“No,” Lucy said. She was trying not to be annoyed with him, but he was making it hard. “They’re talking to me, and I’m going to answer for myself.”

“Good for you, Lucy,” Peggy said, still with that syrupy grin. “Director or not, don’t let this man push you around. Ever heard of the ERA, Chuck? Women aren’t seen and not heard anymore.”

“Fine,” he said, throwing up his hands. “Can I go then? I don’t want to watch this.” He stood up and looked straight at Lucy. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Walter cleared his throat. “Actually, this involves you too.”

“How? You already know I haven’t ever ridden in the rodeo, handled snakes, buried my mother in Indian ground, fallen—”

“Just listen,” Walter said. “Peggy had an idea that I think could work.”

Peggy looked at Charles. “As you know, we’re pitching Lucy as your big discovery. The complete unknown comes to the director’s house and is spotted and becomes a star. Nice but not enough. So we’re thinking, what if we add a human interest element to that story?”

Lucy was sitting forward. She was terrified they were going to mention the spoon. But then she realized there was no way they knew. Charles certainly wouldn’t have given them that.

“And I’m thinking I don’t care,” Charles said. “Find the human interest and shove it in your press release. Are we finished?”

Peggy’s smile didn’t change. “Here’s our thought. What if you and Lucy were a little more to each other than director and actor? Can’t you see it? The human interest angle would be fabulous.”

Charles blinked. “You’re not suggesting Lucy and I pretend to be involved?”

“Your first public appearance wouldn’t be for months. It really wouldn’t be—”

She stopped talking because Charles burst out in a laugh. “This takes the cake, even for you people. No one would believe it in a million years.”

Lucy felt her cheeks burn.

“Why the hell not?” Peggy sputtered.

“For one thing, she’s nineteen and I’m thirty-five.”

“Christ, this is Hollywood. You could be seventy-five and go out with her.”

“If I was an amoral bag of filth.”

“Keenan, don’t be ridiculous.” Walter shot him an irritated glance. “Everyone knows you like to date models. Are you saying they’re old ladies?”

“It’s different with Lucy,” he said, looking at the wall.

“Different how?” Walter snapped. “She’s an adult, you’re an adult. I don’t see the problem.”

“The problem is, I’m an adult, but Lucy’s still a child.”

She was already hurt, but then she was furious. How dare he talk about her like that in front of the producer and an exec from PR? How dare he talk about her that way, period? She’d worked so hard during the weeks and weeks they’d been making the movie. Didn’t she deserve some respect?

She glared at him and said as harshly as she felt—letting her strongest Southern accent come back as she did—“I am not a child, but you are definitely a jerk!”

Then, before any of them could say a word, she stood up and left the office.

She was halfway down the hall when he grabbed her elbow. “Wait.”

“Get away from me.”

“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

“It isn’t true! I’m not a child and you know it.”

“I don’t know it, Lucy. If I did, I wouldn’t have written a part for you as a fifteen-year-old girl.”

She’d never thought of that and she was momentarily confused, but then she put her hands on her hips. “What about that day we filmed the torture scene? Are you telling me you thought of me as a child then?”

He grew visibly paler. “That was wrong. I’ve thought about it many times since and I think I let my obsession with getting a good scene get in the way of my better judgment.”

Two men were coming down the hall. They nodded at Charles, and Lucy waited until they rounded the corner. “All right, what about the day you kissed me?”

He leaned against the wall and put his hand over the right side of his face. Covering the smaller eye. The weaker eye, she thought now.

His answer was a whisper. “That was wrong as well.”

“Why did you do it then?”

“Because I was attracted to you, but—”

“So you’re usually attracted to children?”

“No,” he said, frowning deeply. “Of course not.”

“Well then?”

Another group of people was walking toward them. Charles pointed to a door across the hall and asked her to come with him. “I’ll try to explain.”

It was an empty conference room. Charles sat down by the white board in front; Lucy took the chair next to him. She tapped her fingers to remind him she was waiting, and still angry.

“Remember when you said you’d rather go to jail than have sex with me?” He took a deep breath. “I can’t tell you how surprised I was. I almost couldn’t believe it.”

“Jeez, who do you think you are? I know women throw themselves at you, but come—”

“No. I was surprised because your position was so unusual and admirable. I thought, here is someone who believes in love so strongly she’s willing to go to jail rather than accept anything less.”

His voice was strangely sad, and Lucy couldn’t help but be touched. But then she remembered. “How is that childish?”

“It struck me as very innocent. Beautifully innocent, but still.”

“I’m not that innocent,” Lucy said, and sighed. “I wish I were.”

“You’ve had a high school boyfriend. Maybe two. But I—I’m not proud of this, and I wish I didn’t have to say it to someone like you. I’ve had dozens and dozens of women over the years. And it was always sex, never the love you’re holding out for.”

“Well, I’ve done things I’m not proud of either.”

“Like try to steal my spoon?” He smiled a half smile. “That was another reason I knew you were innocent. You thought you could go to jail for that. I think the jails in L.A. have all the business they need from murderers and drug dealers, pimps and prostitutes.”

Suddenly she wished that she hadn’t followed him in here. Hearing what he thought of her—innocent, admirable, someone who would always hold out for love—made her feel like such a fake. If only she could have been the person he described. If only she’d held on to her innocence.

“I’ve done other things,” she finally said, looking down at the table. “Things a lot worse.”

“I don’t believe it,” he said, and reached over and put his hand under her chin, to lift her face to his. “I’m sure you haven’t done anything that bad.”

“It was bad.” She felt hopeless. “I know you’d think so too.”

Most of his movies had at least one prostitute and one good woman, and they were always completely different. The good woman didn’t have to be a virgin (some were widows; some had husbands who left them), but she had to have a “pure heart.” Lucy remembered in the monologue for
A Silver Dollar and a Gun,
the sheriff had said a pure-hearted person never does anything solely for money. “Better to starve than do something against your principles. Better to lose the world and save your soul.”

“I wish I’d saved my soul,” Lucy whispered. She was trying not to cry. “Now I’ve lost everything anyway.”

When he asked her what she’d lost, his voice was full of concern; his expression was serious and kind and so wise. It was the same way he looked on set, when he was listening to his cast and crew, like they could admit any weakness, like there was nothing he wouldn’t understand.

So she told him. She’d been dying to tell someone anyway, and at least she knew he’d take it seriously. She even told him the parts that made her look like a childish fool. When Smitty had first offered to mark her rent paid and give her fifty dollars if she let him
touch her, she thought he meant just that: touching. She was so stupid; she’d never even had a real date before. But then he was on top of her, and she couldn’t get away. Afterward, she didn’t care. He would come into her apartment and tell her it was time, then throw the money on the floor after he was finished. And she would bend over and pick it up. She never yelled or told him no. She knew it was wrong, and yet she didn’t do anything to stop it.

“So see, I’m not innocent at all.”

“Lucy, it’s not true.” He took her hands and pulled her up so she was standing next to him. “That man was evil. He took advantage of your ignorance and your poverty.”

“But I let him. It was my fault.”

Charles put his finger over her lips. “No, it wasn’t. I know you. You have a pure heart, the purest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. You deserve someone who would protect you from men like that.”

A pure heart. She wasn’t sure why he thought this, but the relief was so strong it left Lucy exhausted. Even stronger than the relief, though, was her rush of feeling for him.

When he pulled her into his arms, the words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself. “I love you,” she said, into his shirt.

“Sweet,” he said, so softly that she barely heard it, before he leaned down and gave her another of those gentle kisses, and then pulled her to him so tightly she could feel him trembling before he kissed her again.

They stayed in the conference room, kissing and holding each other, long after Walter and Peggy and nearly everyone who worked in the building had left. Only the janitors were there when Charles asked if she was getting hungry.

They were sitting on the floor, propped against the wall. “I’d rather stay with you,” she said, leaning back into him.

“Here’s an idea. We could be together
and
eat. It may sound strange, but I’ve heard it’s done all the time.”

“Oh,” she said, and for a moment, she felt a little stupid, but then
he brought her hand to his lips and told her that he was glad she was incapable of sarcasm. “My sweet Lucy,” he said, and she beamed. No one had called her “my Lucy” since her mother died.