1940
My eyes darted to Roxy across the dim and noisy dance floor of Tropical Gardens Nightclub. She bent over to hand a gentleman a packet of cigarettes, her cleavage spilling out of her tight satin uniform.
I gritted my teeth as I picked up an empty glass. After my disastrous evening with Benny last night, I’d come home to find the motel room empty. Though I’d been relieved to have the room to myself, I wondered now where Roxy had spent the night. When I left the motel this afternoon to get lunch, she still hadn’t returned. Could it be true that men paid her for her company?
“Hey, beautiful! Over here.”
I turned to see an older, overweight Italian man in a booth, beckoning to me with thick fingers. My heart thumped. I didn’t want to be here, serving this man. But I had no money, and nowhere else to go. The cash tips were my only income.
Putting on a weary smile, I approached his table. “Good evening, sir. What can I get you?”
“I’ll take a slice of you,” he said, his eyes traveling up my legs and resting on my bottom. Every instinct told me to run. I wanted to place a hand protectively over my belly. This was no place for someone in my condition.
“You’re a gas,” I said, forcing a smile. “Would you like to buy a pack of Marlboros or Chesterfields?”
“Neither,” the man said, reaching his outstretched fingers toward my exposed thigh. His gold rings glinted in the light. “Like I said, I want a piece of you.”
“I’m not for sale!” I spat. Then I turned on my heel and marched toward the back room. A wave of nausea rolled through me, and I took a deep breath in through my nose. Pushing back the curtain to the dressing room, I braced myself against the mirrored wall. Heaven help me. How had I gotten myself in such a predicament?
It all made sense—my heightened sensitivity to smell, my sore breasts, the ever-present feeling of sickness. My lip trembled. But I couldn’t be pregnant. Because if I were, then what? My dreams of becoming an actress would come crashing down around me. And I was so very, frighteningly alone.
Roxy pushed the curtain aside. “What has gotten into you? Do you want to get canned? I’ll tell Tommy that you’re having an off day, but—”
“Why didn’t you warn me about Benny?” Anger rushed through me. “Do you know what he tried to do to me?”
She pursed her red lips. Standing close to her, I could see the tiny wrinkles around her eyes and the parentheses framing her mouth. She looked tired and worn.
“You needed a meal ticket. Benny Bronstein is young and easy on the eyes. I could have set you up with someone much worse.”
I scoffed. “A meal ticket? How dare you assume I would want anything of the sort! I am perfectly capable of earning my own money.”
Roxy’s gaze hardened. “Are you? Because you only have one dress and I’m tired of you borrowing my clothes. You ain’t got two pennies to rub together.”
“I told you, I left my bag in—”
“Oh, stop with the baloney!” Roxy yelled. “You’re hiding something and don’t think I don’t know it. What are you, a runaway? Papa didn’t love you?”
“Don’t talk about my family or I’ll—”
I balled my hands into fists. My heart ached for my mother and father, for Evie, for Charles. Why had I left behind my life in Santa Cruz? The people who loved me? I’d made a horrible mistake in coming here.
“Or what?” Roxy said, taking a step closer.
I tensed in readiness.
“Hey, what’sa commotion in here?” Tommy stepped out of his office, his black hair shiny with pomade. “This isn’t a goddamn zoo. The two of you are screeching like animals.”
Roxy cocked her hip. “Violet here gave lip to one of our best customers. Salvatore tried to order a pack of cigarettes, and she stormed off without so much as a smile.”
Tommy turned to me, his thick eyebrows drawn together like two caterpillars. “You was rude to Sal?”
I thought of the fat man with the thick fingers covered in gold rings. “He told me he wanted a slice of me. I told him I wasn’t for sale.”
Tommy’s dark eyes flashed with anger. “In my club, show a little respect. That’s Salvatore Corlatone. Do you even know who he is? When Sal asks for something, you smile, and then you give him what he wants. Capisce?”
My lip trembled. “I don’t care if he’s the head of the mob. I’m not serving him.”
“Then you’re finished,” Tommy said, curling his lip. “Take off that uniform and get outta my club.”
“Gladly,” I said, tears stinging my eyes.
Once Tommy left the room, I tugged at the zipper of my tight one-piece. I turned away from Roxy, shimmying out of the black strapless number. I’d only missed one period, which meant I couldn’t be more than six or seven weeks along. Still too early to show, though I felt bloated bigger than a blimp.
“You’re making a mistake,” Roxy said, the fire gone from her voice. “I was only trying to look out for you. Now what are you gonna do?”
“I’ll figure it out,” I hissed, throwing the uniform on a clothes hanger.
“Suit yourself,” she said. “I’ve gotta get back out there.” She pushed the velvet curtain aside and made her way toward the crowded floor of the club.
I blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay. Had Roxy really thought I would sleep with strange men for a foot in the door? Placing a hand protectively over my belly, I shut my eyes. My baby likely wasn’t any bigger than an olive, but already I felt a mother’s love. And I was frightened for both of us.
WALKING THROUGH THE gateway of Paramount Pictures, I took a deep breath for luck. I’d hardly slept a wink the night before, tossing and turning in the dark motel room. Roxy and I hadn’t spoken since our fight, and I didn’t know if I could forgive her for the way she’d treated me.
I had a feeling she would find another roommate, and I would be out of a job and a place to stay. Her words rang in my ears: You ain’t got two pennies to rub together. A woman in sunglasses and a white head scarf rode past me in a mint-green golf cart. I craned my neck, trying to figure out who she was.
My shoulders tensed. I longed to be an actress transported from set to studio, dancing to the tune of whimsical musicals, or crying tears on command. The tears that threatened to come now were those of desperation. I had a few months, perhaps three or four, before I would no longer be able to conceal my growing belly. I had to land a part—immediately—or my dream would vanish before my eyes.
Standing with the other girls in the waiting area, I looked around for a friendly face. Everyone buried their noses in their scripts, and a few gals shot me suspicious looks. I’d curled my hair and put on an extra swipe of blush, but I felt less fresh-faced than some of the gals I saw in line, who couldn’t be more than teenagers. In no time I would be old news—my chance to become the next ingénue would pass.
I placed a hand protectively over my belly, and then remembered I oughtn’t do that in public. I dropped it to my side. Taking a deep breath, I let it out in a shudder. I had to nail this reading. I had to.
“Violet! Is that you?”
I spun on my heel to see Harry Goodman strolling toward me. At the sight of his familiar jolly face, the tension between my shoulders eased. I wanted to embrace him.
“Oh Harry, what are you doing here?”
“I’m here for an audition. My agent sent me. How’ve you been?”
“Wonderful,” I lied, wondering if he could see the sadness in my eyes. “How about you?”
“Couldn’t be better,” he said, reaching into his shirt pocket. “I got a telegram for you at the Pink Flamingo. It must’ve arrived before you gave your husband your new address. I’ve been carrying it around in case I ran into you.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. “Charles sent me a telegram?”
“Sure did,” Harry said, handing me the folded pink slip of paper. “He misses you.” He looked sheepish. “Sorry, couldn’t stop myself from peeking.”
With trembling fingers, I opened the message.
Santa Cruz, CA August 15 1940
Violet I miss you dearly. Everything will be different. I promise. I love you. Please allow me to take you home. I can be there tomorrow if you ask me to.
My eyes welled with tears. I thought of my beach bungalow overlooking the Pacific Ocean, the path bursting with wildflowers, poppies and purple ice plant. I thought of Evie, wrapping me in a hug, congratulating me on becoming a mother, and telling me everything would be all right. Perhaps this baby would change things—perhaps this baby was what Charles and I needed to become a loving husband and wife again.
“You miss him,” Harry said.
I nodded, my lip trembling. “A great deal.”
Harry placed a comforting arm on my shoulder. “There’s no shame in returning home, Violet.”
I nodded, feeling as though I were in a dream. Looking around at the studio hands, golf carts and strangers with scripts, it was as if I didn’t belong here at all. Like Alice, I had tumbled down a rabbit hole to find myself in unfamiliar surroundings.
“Everyone here to read for John Huston’s film, follow me to soundstage five.”
I startled, turning to see the man who’d announced the casting call.
“Good luck,” Harry said, giving me an apologetic smile. “I’m in room 305 at the Pink Flamingo. If you need me, you know where to find me.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “I will.”
“Oh,” Harry called after me. “Where are you staying? You forgot to mention it.”
“Did I?” Watching the other girls queue up for the audition, no lie came to mind in time, and Harry waited for an answer.
“At the Tropicana,” I said, turning to follow the girls to the soundstage.
“At the other end of Hollywood Boulevard?”
“That’s the one.”
As I walked a few paces behind the gaggle of women across the Paramount lot, I clutched the telegram from Charles with both hands.
I miss you dearly.
I love you.
Everything will be different.
His words touched my heart as only a husband’s could. Suddenly his absence ached like an open wound. I longed for his reassuring embrace, his warm brown eyes, and the familiar scent of his cologne. He could take me home. He’d seen my note requesting a divorce, but he’d forgiven me.
And my child, my little olive—already I’d come to think of her as a little girl. She needed a father. We could be a family again.