I wanted to give her a lot of things. I wanted what I had to be hers. I wondered if this was what it felt like to love someone. I already knew what it meant to be in love with someone. I’d felt it, and I’d acted it. But to love someone. To care for them. To throw your lot in with theirs and think, Whatever happens, it’s you and me.
“All right,” Celia said. She threw the shirt on the bed. As she pulled off her own shirt, I found myself looking at the paleness of the skin stretched across her ribs. I gazed at the bright whiteness of her bra. I noticed the way her breasts, instead of being lifted by the bra like mine, appeared as if the bra were there merely for decoration.
I followed the tiny trail of dark brown freckles that ran along the side of her right hip.
“Well, hello,” Don said.
I jumped. Celia gasped and scrambled to put her shirt back on.
Don started laughing. “What on earth is going on in here?” he teased.
I walked over to him and said, “Absolutely nothing.”
PhotoMoment
November 2, 1959
LIFE OF THE PARTY GIRL
Celia St. James is really making a name for herself around town! And it’s not just because she’s proving to be a swell actress. The Georgia Peach knows how to make all the right friends.
The most high-profile of which is everyone’s favorite starlet Evelyn Hugo. Celia and Evelyn have been seen all over town, shopping, chatting, and even finding time for a round or two of ladies’ golf at the Beverly Hills Golf Club.
And to make matters even more perfect, it seems the best friends will be going on plenty of double dates in the near future. Celia has been spotted at the Trocadero with none other than Robert Logan, close friend of Evelyn’s hubby, Don Adler.
A handsome date, glamorous friends, and talk of a statuette in her future—it’s a good time to be Celia St. James!
I DON’T WANT TO DO this,” Celia said.
She was wearing a tailored black dress with a deep-V neckline. It was the kind of dress I could never wear out of the house or I’d be picked up on a prostitution charge. She had on a diamond necklace that Don had persuaded Sunset to loan to her.
Sunset wasn’t in the business of helping freelance actresses, but Celia wanted the diamonds, and I wanted Celia to have anything she wanted. And Don wanted me to have anything I wanted, at least most of the time.
Don had just starred in his second Western, The Righteous, after he had lobbied Ari Sullivan hard for one more crack at bat. This time, however, the reviews were telling a different story. Don had “manned up.” He was convincing everyone, on his sophomore try, that he was a formidable action star.
Which translated into Don having the number one movie in the country and Ari Sullivan giving Don anything he asked for.
That’s how those diamonds made their way onto Celia’s neck, the large center ruby resting at the top of her breasts.
I was in emerald green again. It was a look that was starting to become my signature. This time, it was off the shoulder and made of peau de soie, with a cinched waist, full skirt, and beading on the neckline. My hair was down in a brushed-under bob.
I looked over at Celia, who was looking in the mirror at my vanity, fiddling with her bouffant.
“You have to do this,” I said.
“I don’t want to. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
I picked up my clutch, made to match my dress. “Not really,” I said.
“You’re not the boss of me, you know,” she said.
“Why are we friends?” I asked her.
“Honestly? I don’t even remember,” she said.
“Because our whole is greater than the sum of our parts.”
“And so what?”
“And so when it comes to what acting roles to take and how to play them, who’s in charge?”
“I am.”
“And now, when it’s the opening of our movie? Who’s in charge then?”
“I suppose you are.”
“You suppose right.”
“I really hate him, Evelyn,” Celia said. She was messing with her makeup.
“Put the rouge down,” I said. “Gwen made you look gorgeous. Don’t mess with perfect.”
“Did you listen to me? I said I hate him.”
“Of course you hate him. He’s a weasel.”
“There’s no one else?”
“Not at this hour.”
“And I can’t go alone?”
“To your own premiere?”
“Why can’t you and I just go together?”
“I’m going with Don. You’re going with Robert.”
Celia frowned and turned back to the mirror. I saw her eyes narrow and her lips purse, as if she was thinking of how mad she was.
I grabbed her bag and handed it to her. It was time to go.
“Celia, would you cut it out? If you’re not willing to do what it takes to get your name in the paper, then why the hell are you here?”
She stood up, ripped the bag out my hand, and walked out the door. I watched her go down my stairs, into my living room with a grand smile, and then run into Robert’s arms as if she thought he was the savior of all mankind.
I walked up to Don. He always cleaned up nicely in his tux. There was no denying that he was going to be the most handsome man there. But I was tiring of him. What’s that saying? Behind every gorgeous woman, there’s a man sick of screwing her? Well, it works both ways. No one mentions that part.
“Shall we go?” Celia said, as if she couldn’t possibly wait to show up to the movie on Robert’s arm. She was a great actress. No one has ever denied that.
“I don’t want to waste a minute more,” I said, looping my arm into Don’s and holding on for dear life. He looked down at my arm and then at me, as if pleasantly surprised by my warmth.
“Let’s see our little women in Little Women, shall we?” Don said. I nearly smacked him across the face. He was owed a smack or two. Or fifteen.
Our cars picked us up and drove us to Grauman’s Chinese Theatre.
Parts of Hollywood Boulevard had been blocked off for our arrival. The driver pulled up just behind Celia and Robert outside the theater. We were the last in a line of four cars.
When you are one of an ensemble of female stars in a movie and the studio wants to make a big show, they make sure you all show up at the same time, in four separate cars, with four eligible bachelors for dates—except, in my case, the eligible bachelor was my husband.
Our dates stepped out first, each standing by and offering a hand. I waited as I watched Ruby step out, then Joy, then Celia. I waited just a beat longer than the rest of them. And then I stepped out, leg first, onto the red carpet.
“You’re the most beautiful woman here,” Don said into my ear as I stood next to him. But I already knew he thought I was the most gorgeous woman there. I knew, very acutely, that if he did not believe that, he would not have been with me.
Men were almost never with me for my personality.
I’m not suggesting that charming girls should take pity on the pretty ones. I’m just saying it’s not so great being loved for something you didn’t do.
The photographers started calling our names as we all walked in. My head was a jumble of words being thrown in my direction. “Ruby! Joy! Celia! Evelyn!” “Mr. and Mrs. Adler! Over here!”