“Did you solve your business problem?” she asked.
She had the voice to go with the face—warm, husky, sensuous. It was a voice that thrilled audiences from coast to coast.
“I think so.” He walked forward and sat down on the lounger adjacent to Vera’s. “The bottling plant is overwhelmed. I’m going to have to expand the facility. I told the manager to go ahead and have the architect draw up the plans.”
“That means that business is good, doesn’t it?”
He chuckled. “Business is excellent, thanks to you, sweetheart.”
“After all you’ve done for me, I’m just glad I can do something for you, darling.”
The press often speculated about why Vera was not romantically linked with one of Hollywood’s leading men. But Paxton understood. Liaisons between powerful stars were fraught. The two people involved in such a relationship were fundamentally rivals, after all. They competed for the same publicity opportunities—the covers of the gossip magazines and the front pages of the nation’s newspapers.
Career jealousy was an ever-present acid that ate away any hope of a long-lasting relationship. Hollywood was a jungle, Paxton reflected. Only those who were willing to claw their way to the top stood a chance of survival. Love and friendship were the first casualties along the way.
But unlike a leading man, he was not a direct career threat, Paxton thought. Vera felt safe with him. He had done a very good job of convincing her that she needed him in order to feel emotionally secure.
In a few years her looks would start to fade, of course. The press would bestow the title of the most beautiful woman in Hollywood on another, younger actress. He would no longer have any use for her. But for now she trusted him. He was her closest confidant. That made her very useful, indeed.
There was another bonus for him in the relationship. He got an amazing erection every time he thought about the fact that he was the man who was fucking the most beautiful woman in Hollywood.
On impulse he leaned forward and kissed her. He would smudge her carefully applied maroon red lipstick but she could repair her makeup before she walked back through the hotel lobby.
She dropped the script beside the lounger. The anxiety in her eyes told him just how much she needed him.
“Calvin,” she whispered urgently, “promise me you will never leave me alone. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
He slipped one hand between her warm thighs. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll always be here to take care of you.”
She believed him, he thought. The most beautiful woman in Hollywood would never win the title of the smartest woman in Hollywood.
Chapter 5
Adelaide went briskly back across the tearoom. The encounter with Jake Truett had left her feeling oddly energized. It occurred to her that she had been living a lie for so long—first at Rushbrook Sanitarium and now, for the last two months, in Burning Cove—that she had forgotten how it felt to allow her real emotions to surface. The short burst of temper a moment ago had felt real, and it was nothing short of stimulating.
Florence, who had evidently watched the entire scene from the other side of the counter, rolled her eyes. Adelaide pretended not to notice.
She was halfway to her goal when she heard the rumble of a heavy car engine. She glanced out the window and saw a familiar green Packard limousine come to a halt on the street in front of the tearoom. Madam Zolanda had become a regular customer shortly after her arrival in Burning Cove two weeks earlier.
The driver jumped out from behind the steering wheel. As usual, Thelma Leggett was nattily attired in a chauffeur’s livery. Having a female driver added yet another exotic touch to Madam Zolanda’s allure. Thelma reached out with a gloved hand and opened the rear door with a flourish.
Madam Zolanda—the woman the press had labeled the psychic to the stars—emerged. She walked to the front door as though she were walking onstage. Thelma sprang forward to open the door. Zolanda made her entrance and masterfully succeeded in turning every head in the tearoom.
She was as flamboyant as any of her film star clients and, whenever she was in public at least, she stayed in character. She was in her late twenties and unusually tall for a woman. She was also very pretty with vivid blue eyes and a wealth of blond hair that billowed around her shoulders in deep waves. Her eyebrows had been plucked to a fare-thee-well and redrawn with a pencil to create elegantly arched curves. Her lipstick was the latest, most fashionable shade of red.
As usual, she was dressed for her chosen role in a long, flowing, exotically printed red and orange caftan that looked as if it had been created from an assortment of fantastically patterned silk scarves. Gold-toned bangles were stacked halfway up her arms.
The small crowd in the tearoom watched, fascinated, as Zolanda came to a stop just inside the entrance, closed her eyes, and appeared to go into a trance.
“There is such good energy in this place,” she intoned.
Adelaide changed course instantly and rushed to greet her. “May I show you to your usual table, madam?”
Zolanda opened her heavily made-up eyes and bestowed a beatific smile on Adelaide.
“Thank you, my dear,” she said. “I am in need of some of my special tea. I am preparing for a performance here in town tomorrow evening. Perhaps you are aware of it?”
“Yes, of course,” Adelaide said. She was no actress but she was a waitress, and a good waitress knew how to respond to a customer’s cue. “You’ll be appearing onstage at the Palace.”
“At seven thirty,” Zolanda clarified in a voice meant to carry across the tearoom. “The performance is almost sold out.”
“I’m not at all surprised,” Adelaide said. “This way, please.”
Zolanda spoke to the chauffeur without looking at her. “That will be all for now, Miss Leggett. I’ll send someone to notify you when I’m ready to leave.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Thelma tugged at the bill of her cap and let herself out the door. She retreated to the long, green Packard.
Adelaide escorted Zolanda to a small table near a window.
“You’d better bring a large pot of my Enlightenment tea,” Zolanda said. “I’ll need two cups today. Oh, and I’ll also have one or two of those lovely little tea cakes.”
“Of course,” Adelaide said. She made a mental note to make sure there were three tea cakes on Zolanda’s plate.
“Your Enlightenment tea helps me fortify myself for the stress involved in opening the psychic door to the other dimension,” Zolanda said.
“Happy to be of service,” Adelaide said. “I’ll be right back with a large pot of Enlightenment.”
“Thank you, Miss Brockton.”
Adelaide went around the end of the counter and selected a teapot. She exchanged a glance with Florence, who bobbed her thin brows up and down a few times. They both knew that Madam Zolanda was good for business. She was not a film star, but her clients were. The press and the public were well aware of it.
Normal conversation resumed in the tearoom. Adelaide arranged the pot of Enlightenment and a cup and saucer on a tray. She added three dainty tea cakes and carried the tray to Zolanda’s table.
“Thank you,” Zolanda said. “By the way, I have a small surprise for you.”
Adelaide set the tea things down and straightened. Her first thought was that Zolanda was about to offer her a free psychic reading. She tried to think of a polite way to decline.
“That’s not necessary—” she began.
Zolanda interrupted, raising her voice so that everyone in the tearoom could hear her. “As I said a moment ago, I will be giving a performance at the Palace Theater tomorrow night. I would love for you to attend.”
Adelaide struggled to come up with an excuse. She was living on a strict budget these days. It allowed for the occasional dinner and a movie with her friend, Raina Kirk, but she was not keen on springing for an expensive ticket to attend one of Madam Zolanda’s performances.