We’re going to call today’s offering, We Never Saw This One Coming. In this special issue of Hollywood Heartthrob, we’re talking about some of the most oddly matched couples in Hollywood.
Take Marilyn Monroe and Joe DiMaggio, for example. Yes, the two were as different as oil and vinegar. Would you have pictured the blond bombshell and the somewhat average-looking DiMaggio a couple? Likely not. And what about Lucy and Desi? Her quirky redheaded ways and his fiery Cuban temper? Talk about an unusual match. But they’re not alone. Hepburn and Tracy. Prince Rainier and Grace Kelly. Yes, the relationships of the “unlikely” do seem to catch us off guard. And yet many appear to be working.
A handful of onscreen married couples seem like mismatches, as well. Take Vivian Vance and William Frawley, for example. As Ethel and Fred Mertz, they make us laugh, but I shudder to think of those two married in real life. (Can you imagine?) And what about Jackie Gleason and Audrey Meadows of Honeymooners fame? As Ralph and Alice Cramdon, their biting sarcasm makes us both laugh…and squirm. Why do we love to see them bicker so much?
The odd pairings seem to happen in the entertainment industry, as well. Sometimes the most unlikely comedians come together to make us chuckle. Laurel and Hardy. Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis. (Did you ever see two more different people?) And what about Buffalo Bob and Howdy Doody? Yep. Different as night and day.
And yet it seems to work. In most of these situations, the oddly matched duos prove us wrong. They entertain and delight…and remind us that sometimes a perfect match begins with a perfect mismatch! Perhaps there’s a lesson here. Maybe we need to stop speculating on who’s right for who and mind our own business.
Scratch that. Speculating is my business.
— Reporting for Hollywood Heartthrob magazine, “Star Chasers” columnist, Hollywood Molly
* * * * *
Less than half an hour after Debbie and the rest of the Carmichael clan finished their early morning dance-a-thon to the Bill Haley song, the bell above the door jangled and Johnny walked in carrying a bouquet of pink sweetheart roses. Debbie took one look at him, and her heart jumped to her throat. Had he brought those roses… for her?
Johnny took a few steps in her direction then gave the bouquet to her. “I, um, well, we picked these up on the way.”
“They’re beautiful.”
“Yes, they are.” Johnny’s cheeks reddened. “Theresa told me what to get, actually. Hope that’s okay.”
“Of course.”
“She, um, sent me with something else, too.”
“Oh?”
Behind him, the door opened again, and Toby came plowing in, wearing some sort of alien costume. “Hello, inter-galactic beings!” the youngster shouted. “I come in peace.”
“Well, that’s good.” Debbie chuckled. “We’d hate to think you’d come to bring some sort of harm.”
Johnny smiled. “Sorry about the costume. Toby’s on a kick. He wants to audition for a new movie. Something about aliens.”
“I see.” Debbie chuckled. “Well, he’s got me convinced.”
“Thank you, earthling.” Toby bowed then straightened up and sat on a barstool. “Could I have something to drink, please?”
“It’s okay with me if Johnny says it’s okay.”
“Sure, why not.” Johnny sat next to Toby.
Debbie clutched the bouquet of flowers in her hand, realizing she needed to do something with them before fixing Toby’s drink.
“Let me put these in some water.” She walked to the kitchen and located a large vase, which she filled with water. Lowering the stems into the vase, she drew in a deep breath. “Mmm.” A ripple of excitement washed over her as she realized that Johnny had been thinking of her. These roses represented his feelings for her…feelings she hoped— prayed—were growing as fast as hers were for him.
She carried the roses out and put them on the counter where everyone could see them. Then she turned her attention to Johnny.
“Jim and Theresa had plans all day today, so they dropped us both off,” he said. “Hope you’re okay with that.”
“Of course. Glad to have you.”
“Am I going to get something to drink, or what?” Toby asked.
“Oh, right.” Debbie paused. “Maybe you can help with the customers when you’re done. I think you’ll make a fine waiter.”
Toby rolled his eyes. “Space beings don’t wait tables.”
“Oh, I see. Well, do they drink chocolate malts?”
“They do.” He nodded with great enthusiasm.
Just as Debbie reached for the ice cream scooper, her father came staggering out of the office.
“Pop?” Debbie stared at him, alarmed at his pale face. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.” He rubbed his chest and shook his head. “Might be a good idea to sit out here for a few minutes. The bills can wait.”
“Of course they can,” Debbie’s mother said, drawing near.
“Here.” Johnny pulled out a chair at the closest table.
Debbie’s father sat, resting his elbows on the table. “Not sure what’s up,” he said at last.
Debbie shook her head and tears sprang to cover her lashes. “You’ve been working too hard again, Pop.”
“Junior can’t handle the kitchen by himself, Sunshine.” Her father rubbed his left shoulder and grimaced. “Until then…”
“Until then, we’re going to figure out another plan,” Debbie’s mom said, taking the seat across from him. “I’ll work in the kitchen if I have to.”
As he reached to squeeze her mother’s hand, Debbie could read the pain in Pop’s eyes.
“I think we need to go to the hospital,” Debbie’s mom said, the concern in her eyes evident.
“Absolutely not,” Pop argued. “I’ll be fine.
“Well, rest a few minutes right here until you feel like going up the stairs to lie down, Frankie,” her mother argued. “When you’re ready, I’ll come with you. The breakfast crowd will be thinning out soon, and the kids can handle it.”
“You sure?” he asked, looking around.
“Of course.” Debbie, Becky Ann, and Junior spoke in unison.
Her father sat at the table for a few minutes with a pained expression on his face, then rose much slower than usual. As he made his way to the stairs, Debbie noticed that he sounded a little breathless. She tried not to let fear get the best of her, but as he rounded the corner, she couldn’t hold back the tears. Slumping down into the booth, she shook her head. “We’ve got to figure out something between now and Saturday. Pop isn’t well enough to keep going until then, and we can’t afford to hire someone else to help Junior in the kitchen.”
“You don’t have to,” Johnny said. “I’ll do it.”
“W–what?” She looked at him, stunned. “You’re going to help flip burgers? During the most important week of your life?”
He shrugged and a hint of a smile turned up the corners of those gorgeous lips. “Why not? There’s no place I’d rather be than here…with all of you.”
Debbie felt her cheeks turn warm at that revelation. Becky Ann looked back and forth between them. “I knew it. You two are sweet on each other.”
Johnny grinned. “Maybe. That’s for us to know and you to find out.”
Becky Ann sighed. “Hope Martha Lou doesn’t find out. She’s already planning to be your number-one fan.”
“Sorry, but that slot is already taken.” Debbie winked, feeling her spirits lift. She turned back to Johnny. “What about all of that stuff you said about not being a good cook?”
“I’m not,” he said. “But I’m happy to try.”
“Let’s see what Junior says. It’s really his decision.” Debbie called for her brother to meet them behind the counter and filled him in on the situation.
Junior gave Johnny an inquisitive look. “So, you want to cook?”
“Me, too!” Toby hollered. “I can cook, too.”
“You can watch,” Debbie said. “But promise you’ll stay out of Junior’s way. He doesn’t like a crowded kitchen.”
“I promise,” Toby said.
“Ever flip a burger before?” Junior asked, looking in Johnny’s direction.
Johnny’s face turned red. “Actually, no. I told Debbie that I’m probably the worst cook in the world.”
“Hmm. Looks like you’ve got a lot to learn then.” Junior slapped him on the back. “No problem. You look like an able-bodied student. I’ll teach you the ropes.”
“Go easy on him, Junior,” Debbie said. “We don’t want to scare him away.”
“Don’t go too easy on him,” Becky Ann chimed in as she entered the room with an order in hand. “If he ruins the food, it might make the customers sick. We don’t need that.”
“Gee, thanks for the encouragement,” Johnny said with a wry grin.
“Anything I can do to help,” Becky Ann said.
Debbie tagged along behind her brother as he led the way into the kitchen. He stopped to point out a couple of pieces of equipment.
“This is our malt mixer,” Junior explained. “We keep it out here behind the counter so it’s handy. Becky Ann and Debbie usually make the malts—and the sodas.” He pointed to the soda dispenser. “We’ve got everything you can think of in there for regular sodas—from Coca-Cola, Dr. Pepper, 7-Up, and root beer, to flavorings for phosphates.”
“Wow.” Johnny shook his head. “I hope you don’t quiz me on this later. I think I’d fail.”
“Set it all to music,” Becky Ann said, as she rang up a customer nearby. “You seem to be really good at remembering lines when they’re in a song.”
“Good idea.” He nodded.
“Let’s talk about ice cream.” Junior paused in front of the ice cream case, which was next to the soda dispenser. “We’ve got chocolate and vanilla, of course. And strawberry. Sometimes folks like to have all three in their banana split. And speaking of banana splits, how are you at making sundaes?”
“Sundaes?” Johnny shook his head. “About as good as I am at making Mondays and Tuesdays.”
Becky Ann let out a snort and punched him in the arm. “Good one, Johnny. I think I’m going to like having you work here.” She batted her eyelashes at him, and Debbie realized that her younger sister enjoyed having Johnny here for more reasons than one.
Hmm. She might have to remedy that. Soon.
“I’ll help you with sundaes and shakes later,” Debbie said.
Johnny gave her a smile so warm it threatened to melt the case of ice cream right on the spot. Debbie felt her heart shift into overdrive and turned her gaze to the ground to avoid sharing it with everyone in the place.
The next few minutes were spent familiarizing Johnny with the various pieces of equipment. Debbie giggled her way through Junior’s burger-flipping demonstration, and the laughter only increased as Johnny took his place behind the stove. He managed to drop the first burger on the floor, and the second split in half as he flipped it. Toby made fun of him at every available opportunity, but Johnny seemed to take it in stride.
“Don’t worry,” Debbie said. “You’ll get better with time.”
“Hope so.” He chuckled. “Good thing the restaurant’s not crowded.”
“There’s always a bit of a lull between the breakfast crowd and the lunch crowd,” Junior explained. “So we have time to go through this. We’ll tackle hot dogs, fries, and onion rings next.”
“Working with all of this food makes me hungry,” Johnny said.
“You’ll get past that,” Junior explained. “When I was younger, I couldn’t make onion rings without eating three or four. And I’ve probably consumed more hot, salty fries than a person should be allowed by law.”
“Now I’m hungrier than ever.”
Just as they started a basket of onion rings in the fryer, the bell jangled, and the first of the lunch customers entered the shop.
“Okay, hang on for the ride,” Junior said. “We’re about to get really busy.”
Debbie gave Johnny a you-can-do-it smile, one she hoped would see him not just through the lunch crowd, but through the rest of the day. After all, it looked like Johnny Hartmann was here to stay.
* * * * *
As the lunch crowd poured in, Johnny swallowed hard, hoping Debbie couldn’t read the fear in his eyes. He watched through the kitchen window as Becky Ann took the first order.
“I’ll have a burger, no mayo or mustard, to go,” the man said.
“Burger high and dry,” Becky Ann called back. “Let’s take it for a walk.”
“Got that?” Junior asked with a twinkle in his eye.
“High and dry. That means nothing on it?” Johnny asked.
“No condiments. But you’re catching on.”
Johnny took a raw burger and dropped it onto the skillet. He felt Debbie’s eyes on him, which only made this process even more nerve-wracking. Not that he wanted her to leave. Oh no. She could stay all day if she liked. Right beside him. Somehow, knowing she was there made all of this okay.
“Got another order coming up in a couple of minutes,” Becky Ann said as she headed off to a table in the back with a new customer. Minutes later she returned. “He wants to know if we’re still serving breakfast. I told him we might make an exception.”
“Breakfast?” Johnny looked at Junior, panic setting in.
“Sure. Why not.” Junior nodded.
“Okay. I’ll be right back with his order,” Becky Ann said. A couple of minutes later, she hollered out, “Eggs, wreck ’em. Noah’s son in the side-car. And draw one!”
Johnny looked at Junior, unable to move. He felt like a stranger in a foreign land.
“Deep breath, Johnny,” Debbie said. “He just ordered scrambled eggs and a slice of ham on the side. And ‘draw one’ means he wants a cup of coffee. See?”
“Um, sure.” Made sense. Sort of. Johnny reached for the eggs and tried to crack one. The slippery mess slid through his fingers and missed the bowl altogether, landing on the floor. “Oops.”
“I’ll get it,” Debbie said. “You keep working.”
After a couple more attempts, he gave up.
“Make you a deal,” Junior said at last. “You do the burgers and hot dogs. I’ll take care of most of the other foods. That way we can split the workload down the middle.”
“Got it.” Johnny wondered what he’d gotten himself into.
“By the way”—Junior pointed to a package of hot dogs—“these are bow-wows.”
“Bow-wows.”
“Yes. And hot dog buns are called bun pups.”
Over the next few minutes, the diner education continued. Turned out, salad was known as cow feed, crackers were dog biscuits, and to eighty-six something meant, “Don’t sell to that customer.” Who’d have thunk it?
Johnny continued to work, every burger blurring into the next and every hot dog an exact duplicate of the one before. Toby came in and out of the kitchen, helping Becky Ann deliver orders. He also refilled drinks for customers. The youngster seemed to be having a good time. Gone was his sadness from earlier this morning. In its place, a happy grin. And Debbie’s mom gave him a smile when she joined them once again. In fact, Sweet Sal gave him several pats on the back and spoke many encouraging words as he worked.
Before long, Johnny looked at the clock and nearly fainted. “Two o’clock?” He shook his head. “It’s not possible.”
“Oh, it’s more than possible.” Junior slapped him on the back. “Welcome to the world of the culinary arts, Johnny, where time flies when you’re having a good time.”
“Guess so.” Only one problem with this scenario. Jim and Theresa would be here to pick Johnny and Toby up at five, and he hadn’t even talked to Debbie yet about the fundraiser. He hadn’t showed her the new song he’d written just last night—the one about walking on the beach with her, hand in hand.
Finally the crowd thinned. Johnny felt like he’d lost ten pounds from sweating so much. Still, the satisfaction of knowing how much he’d accomplished felt good. Really good. And the idea that he’d been helping Debbie and her family only made it that much better.
“Whew.” Becky Ann sat at the counter. “My feet are tired.”
“Mine, too,” Johnny threw in.
“At least the Andersons didn’t come by today,” Debbie said. “That’s a good thing.” She looked at Johnny. “You ready for Phase Three?”
“Phase Three?” His thoughts scrambled like the egg he’d cracked earlier.
“Breakfast is Phase One. Lunch is Phase Two. Afternoon ice cream-eating crowd, Phase Three. Dinner, Phase Four. Late night sodas and shakes, Phase Five.”
“Wow.” He shook his head, feeling a little dizzy. “I guess I’m ready to learn more.”
“Good.” She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “Because this time I’ll be your teacher.”
“In that case…” He gave her a wink, his heart racing out of his chest.
Debbie smiled. “Fine. We’ll start with malts then work our way to sodas and sundaes. Hope you don’t mind that you’re stuck with me. Junior’s got to get a start cleaning up the kitchen before the dinner crowd arrives.”
“I don’t mind a bit.” In fact, I prefer it. He smiled and her eyelashes fluttered, sending his heart in a thousand directions at once.
“Better pay attention,” she whispered, leaning in.
“I am,” he whispered in response, his lips brushing her hair as he spoke.
For a moment, both of them paused, and he could sense her closeness. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her like he’d done that day on the beach, but right now they had work to do. If one could call mixing up a chocolate shake work.
Debbie leaned back as Becky Ann walked by. “Okay, this is what you need to do. Put three scoops of vanilla ice cream in the cup and add a little bit of milk. If it’s a chocolate shake, add this syrup.” She pointed to a round tin can. “And if it’s a malt, also add a scoop of the malt powder.”
“Mm-hmm.” He deliberately reached around her to get the chocolate syrup, which left them so close he could smell her perfume. What was left of it, anyway.
Debbie blushed. “You turn the machine on like this.” She flipped a switch then turned the machine off again. “Got it?”
“Got it.”
“When you’re done, grab one of these glasses and pour the malt into it.” Her voice was all business, but he could see that she was trying to hide a grin. “I usually take what’s left in the mixing cup to the table. No point in pouring out the leftovers.”
“We wouldn’t want to do that.” He smiled.
Debbie giggled. “Now, for the root beer float. Start with three scoops of ice cream then pour the root beer on top of it in the glass. Add the root beer a little at a time, though, because it gets foamy.”
“Foamy.” Johnny clucked his tongue. “That would be a disgrace.”
They continued to work alongside each other until Becky Ann drew near.
“Debbie, the guy at table seven wants a hot fudge sundae.” She gave her sister an inquisitive look. “Think you can remember how to make one of those?”
“Um, yes. I’m pretty sure I can. But I’ll get Johnny to help.”
“Sure you will.” Becky Ann laughed. “Some help he is.” She pointed to the dribble of chocolate running down Johnny’s apron.
“Hey, you can’t fault a fella for trying,” he said.
“No, I don’t suppose I can.”
Johnny looked at Debbie. “So, we’re making a hot fudge sundae.”
“No, you’re making it,” she said. “I’m watching. And instructing.”
“Well, instruct away.” He reached for the scoop and a sundae dish. “Two scoops or three?”
“Three.”
He scooped them out, nearly dropping one on the floor. Finally he managed to get all three in the dish. “Now fudge topping, I presume.”
“You presume correctly.” She pointed to the container holding the hot fudge. He poured a generous amount on top of the ice cream, which started to melt under the heat.
“The rest needs to be done quickly before it melts.” Debbie reached for a container of nuts, sprinkling a few on top. Then she grabbed a can of pressurized whipped cream and passed it his way.
When he pushed the button on top, the cream sprayed everywhere. “Oops.” Johnny chuckled.
“Oops is right. You got it all over me.” Debbie went to work cleaning the whipped cream out of her hair. “You missed a spot,” he said, gesturing to the edge of her lip.
“Oh?” Her eyelashes fluttered, melting his heart.
“Yes.” Johnny’s playfulness got the better of him. He reached down to give her a quick kiss, the whipped cream disappearing from the edges of her beautiful lips. “There. All gone.”
Her eyes grew large and her cheeks turned as red as the maraschino cherry she grabbed from a jar nearby. Debbie plopped it on top and raced to the table to deliver the sundae. Johnny shook his head in disbelief.
Did I just kiss her…right here? In front of everyone?
He turned to find Becky Ann staring. Her mother stood next to her, also looking a bit stupefied. None of that, however, compared to the sight of Mr. Carmichael’s wide eyes.
Mr. Carmichael? Isn’t he supposed to be upstairs…resting?
Johnny gave a half smile and tried to turn this thing around. Thankfully, the song on the jukebox changed and Bobby’s song, “First Kiss,” rang out. Mr. Carmichael extended his hand in his wife’s direction and she took it, scolding that he needed to be resting, not dancing.
“I don’t care what you say, I’m going to dance with my wife. It’s good for my heart, trust me.”
And so he did. Johnny paused from his labors long enough to watch them. Their tenderness amazed him. So did the fact that—different though they were—they clearly fit into each other’s arms. They were made for one another.
He glanced at Debbie, trying to imagine what it would be like to sweep her in his arms and dance her across the floor to this particular song. She gave him a little nod. An invitation, perhaps?
Johnny had just taken a step in Debbie’s direction when he noticed Toby step out in front of him. The youngster extended his hand. “Could I have this dance, Miss?”
“Why, of course.” Debbie took Toby’s hand and the two began an awkward waltz.
Junior approached with a sympathetic look on his face. “Lost the opportunity? I know what that’s like.”
“Oh?” Johnny turned to face him.
“Yeah. I’ve been there many times myself.”
At that moment, Becky Ann approached and extended her hand. “If you can’t beat ’em, you might as well join ’em. C’mon, Johnny. Let’s show these old folks what the young people can do.” She began a funny little dance that left him all smiles. And though he reeked of burgers and onion rings, Johnny allowed himself to be pulled into the dance. Sure, he was with the wrong partner, but that would change. He would make sure of it. In the meantime, he might as well relax and enjoy the ride before Phase Four kicked in.
A shiver ran down his spine as he thought about the dinner crowd. Oh, well. Enough fretting over that. Right now, dancing was far more fun than dealing with all of that.