9

THE MOVIE

The film continues with a montage of newspapers spinning toward the camera—copies of Variety and other Hollywood trade and gossip publications. Headlines read: KENDRICK TO STAR IN “DAME” and BLAIR IS TOAST OF TINSELTOWN!

The female voice-over narration resumes. “The Jazz Club wrapped in April of ’47, and I was immediately signed to star in a picture called A Dame Without Fear. My ‘bad girl’ persona was really taking off. It would be a few months before The Jazz Club opened to the public.”

Shots of the actress playing Blair Kendrick flash on screen—she is modeling new clothes, being seen at fashionable restaurants, and caught in candid photographs with such stars as Cary Grant, Frank Sinatra, Robert Mitchum, and Ray Milland.

“I was enjoying my newfound fame. As a single woman in the public eye, the studio fixed me up on dates with some big Hollywood names, but I went on them just to stay out of the clutches of Eldon Hirsch.”

Blair receives flowers in her dressing room. She opens the card to see a note—May I see you tonight?—Eldon.

Cut to Blair parking her Oldsmobile against the curb of a dark street lined with nice mansions. She gets out, carefully looks around to make sure she’s not being watched, and locks the door. She then moves down a sidewalk to a more modest one-story house.

“What Eldon didn’t know—what Louella Parsons and Hedda Hopper and those awful gossip queens didn’t know—was that I had embarked on something very dangerous. I couldn’t help myself. When the heart desires something as strongly as mine did, you follow it, no matter what.”

Blair hurries up a paved walkway to the front door. Before she can knock, it opens—revealing Hank Marley.

Blair rolled over and looked at the clock on the nightstand. 6:20.

The dawn seeped through the blinds in Hank’s bedroom. It was time for her to get up and leave. She hadn’t meant to spend the entire night, but they had fallen asleep sometime after one in the morning.

He lay on his side, his broad black back to her. His breathing was slow and heavy. Not snoring. With her gaze, she traced the shapes of the muscles in his shoulders and on his one visible flank. His short coal-colored hair beckoned for her touch, to slide her fingers gently over his scalp. His scent was that of long-dried sweat and a cologne he always wore. She didn’t know what it was called, but it gave him a musky aroma that somehow reminded her of firewood.

It had been weeks since that first cab ride together, the result being a whirlwind of an intensely vivid dream that ignited every nerve in her body. It had been a wave of emotions and sensuality, a tsunami she couldn’t and had no desire to stop. And yet Blair still wondered why she was attracted to him. She honestly had no idea. She recalled the stories about the Negro boxer Jack Johnson, and how he had been with a few white women, especially Lucille Cameron, one of his wives. Johnson had served a prison sentence for some ridiculous crime that was used to punish him for stepping out with ladies who “weren’t his kind.” Well, the attraction had to go both ways, didn’t it? Those white women hadn’t minded sharing their beds with a Negro man, either. Perhaps Hank was her own version of a Jack Johnson. Maybe it was just a sex thing, but in Blair’s case, it was more than that. All she knew was what the lovely ache in her chest told her when she wasn’t with him.

She quietly slipped out of the bed and put on the bathrobe he had given her. She left the bedroom, went into the hall, and entered the bathroom. When she was done, she primped for a moment in front of the mirror. The night had done a little damage to her face, for she hadn’t bothered to remove her makeup. Now it was a bit smeared around the eyes and mouth. She couldn’t believe she had slept that way, but one went with the flow. She used soap and water to wash most of it away.

Blair tread softly back to the bedroom. Hank had turned to face her side of the bed, but he was still asleep. She removed the bathrobe and slid under the sheets next to him. She cuddled against his body and he instinctively draped a strong arm around her.

“Good morning,” he said.

“You’re awake?”

“No. I am definitely dreaming.”

She chuckled. “Then dream on.” She kissed his forehead, but he moved his mouth up to hers and met it.

After the long kiss, he said, “Be right back.” He got out of bed and padded, naked, to the door to use the bathroom, too.

Blair sighed.

God, what am I doing? Am I crazy? What’s gotten into me?

She knew what she was doing was wrong. By society’s standards, anyway.

But is it really so wrong?

For the past month, Hank had shown her what physical love could be. She’d had no idea. And she knew they had to be careful. Becoming pregnant would be a disaster—for them both.

Hank returned to the room and got back in bed with her. “Mmm, good morning, again,” he said.

“Good morning.”

“I’m still dreaming.”

“We both are.”

He started to sing a line from a song, the one about a lucky lady dreaming …

“What is that song? I heard you and your band play it that first time I met you on the set.”

“Oh, that’s called ‘Blues in the Dark.’”

She raised her forehead. “Ah, right. Jimmy Rushing and Count Basie?”

He smiled. “1938.”

“I like it. It’s sad, but it’s romantic. We’re that, aren’t we?”

“What you mean?”

“We’re ‘blues in the dark.’ You and me. That’s what we are.”

He grinned. “That we are, baby.”

A short silence. Then she asked, “You’ve never told me whose house this is.”

“Some white guy who lives in Florida. He rents rooms to colored folks. It’s kind of a dump, wouldn’t you say? Not like the other houses on South Hobart Boulevard. Louise Beavers lives just a few houses down.”

“Who else lives here?”

“My bass player, Ray, and his wife and son. Another Negro couple who are both dancers. That’s it right now. Our landlord doesn’t go in for all that covenant bullshit that prevents Negroes from living in Sugar Hill.”

“I thought I heard those cases were over. Hattie McDaniel and the others—they won, didn’t they?”

“In the state of California, yes they did. But I understand another case is going to the Supreme Court. I don’t know when; soon. In the meantime, we get to stay.”

“Good.”

They lay in each other’s arms for a while, and then she shook herself out of her reverie. “I have to go.”

“I know.”

“I meant to go last night.”

“I know.”

“Do you think anyone will see me?” The notion made her nervous.

“I don’t know. I hope not.” After a pause, he suggested, “You could do what you’ve done before—go out the back, around the side of the house, and then come up to your car. Won’t be as noticeable.”

“I think I’ll do that.”

“Or I could cover you with a blanket and carry you to your car.”

She laughed and punched him lightly on the shoulder. He laughed, too, and kissed her again.

“Oh, Hank, what are we going to do?”

“Darlin’, if you need to … if you need to end this … I will understand. I will totally understand, baby. You know that. I’d hate for it to end, but … well, I know.”

“Hank, I don’t want it to end. But what if someone finds out? It’s a miracle no one has caught us yet.”

“No one’s coming in my room without me inviting them in. Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson will make sure of that.”

“Who?”

“Smith & Wesson. My revolver sitting in the nightstand on my side of the bed.”

“You have a gun?”

“I do. A thirty-eight caliber. It’s a real honey.”

“Jesus.” She shivered a bit at the thought. “The thing is … Hank, I want to be seen with you. I want us to be able to go out to restaurants. I want to go to the club and hear you play. I want to go dancing with you. I want you to be my date at the premiere of The Jazz Club.”

“I don’t think your studio bosses would like that very much.”

“I know.”

“Isn’t there something in your contract about that?”

“There’s a morality clause in everyone’s studio contract. Relationships with someone of a different race are forbidden. It’s so stupid. Why is this country the way it is?”

“It would take a philosopher much smarter than me to answer that. Darlin’, I’ve lived with racism every day of my life.”

His frankness shocked her. After a moment, she replied, “And that is so unbelievable.” She looked at him. “Do you think maybe in ten, twenty, or thirty more years that things will have changed?”

His soft laugh was short and abrupt. “Baby, you are smart, talented, and good-hearted. But I got to say, you’re naive. Sometimes I think you’ve been blind to what’s going on between whites and Negroes in this country. What was it like in Chicago?”

She bristled a little, but then answered, “You’re right, Hank. I grew up in a sheltered existence on the north side of the city. I never had much dealings with Negroes. I guess maybe I wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I understand. Most people in this country are like that. We notice the discrimination. White folks, for the most part, take it for granted, I’m sorry to say. Please don’t take offense, but Blair, you’re going to leave here and go back to your white world and not face any of the danger I would if we’re caught. I have a feeling it’s going to take a long time for those kinds of things to change.”

“Oh, Hank. We have to be careful. And, you know, I can dream about things changing,” she said. “Maybe it’s naive, but think of a future when we could get married. Can you imagine that?”

“You and me? Married?”

“Can you see it? In your mind’s eye?”

He gave a soft laugh. “I’d like to be able to imagine it, darlin’. But I’m afraid I can’t. Don’t get me wrong; I would love more than anything to be married to you. I just don’t see it happening … except in a dream.” He separated himself from her and grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the nightstand. He popped two into his mouth, lit them with a lighter, and handed one to her.

“You did that better than Paul Henreid did in Now, Voyager,” she said with a smile.

“And you’re a hell of a lot more beautiful than Bette Davis.”

A moment of silence passed as they smoked.

“Hank?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“What was your family in St. Louis like? You’ve never said much about them.”

“Not much to tell. I didn’t know my daddy. He upped and left when I was four. I barely remember anything about him.” He held up his right hand, revealing a gold ring on his finger. “This is all that’s left of my daddy. It was his wedding ring. Apparently, he left it behind when he walked out. My mother gave it to me, said I could sell it if I wanted to. I decided to keep it and wear in on my right hand just to—I don’t know—have some sort of connection to the man who helped conceive me. My mother still loved him. She never hated him for leaving us, although I never understood why not. I guess love is a powerful thing when it’s real. As for my mom, well, she died when I was fifteen.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. She had the cancer. It was a blessing. She worked her heart out as a maid. I loved her more than anything, but she was never a very happy person. After she was gone, it was just me and my little sister, Regina. She’s two years younger than me.”

“Is she still in St. Louis?”

“Nuh-uh. She’s right here in LA. Plays the piano, too.”

“Really? How come I haven’t met her?”

Hank gestured with his hands. “I suppose it just hasn’t worked out.”

“You’re not … it’s not because I’m white that I haven’t met her, right?”

“No.”

“Hank, I think you’re lying to me. You don’t want your sister to know you’re seeing a white woman.”

“That’s not true, baby.”

“Well then, I want to meet her.”

“All right, all right! You’ll meet her. Lordy, woman …”

“Why isn’t she living here with you?”

“She didn’t want to! She wanted to make her own way. Regina lives in an ugly old apartment in South Central. I’ve been trying to get her to move. But what about you, Blair? Why did you leave Chicago?”

Blair sighed heavily. “My father owns a chain of liquor shops. He’s done very well. We were never wanting for money. The problem was that both he and my mother liked to sample the goods a little too much—every day. My older brother, Tommy, was killed during the war. Battle of the Bulge. That really sent them over the edge. Mom would beat me. Dad would beat me. They tried to get me to marry some businessman my dad was friends with. He was twenty years older than me and fat. There was no love in our family. I got out of there as soon as I could.”

They were silent for a while after that confession. Then she turned to him. “Hank?”

“Yes?”

“I … I never asked you this before.”

“What?”

“Have you ever … you know … with a white woman …?”

He shook his head. “Hell, no. You, my dear, are the first.” He gave her a look. “And I ain’t going to ask you the same question.”

She laughed. “Oh, you don’t have to, I’ll tell you everything. Hank, you’re really the first man I ever … well, there was this boy back in Chicago. Happened once. Didn’t mean a thing. I’ll always consider you the first.”

Indeed, there had been Joey in Chicago, the boy who had taken her virginity at a high school graduation party gone out of control. The act had been awkward and passionless. Afterward, she felt ashamed, but he wanted her to stay in the city and marry him. She held no interest in that, but Joey kept pursuing her, thinking she would “put out” for him again, Instead, she left town. She told her parents her plans and didn’t say a word to Joey. Her mother and father didn’t care. To them, she had been just another mouth to feed, which took away from what they were able to spend on booze.

“The fact I’m a Negro doesn’t make any difference to you?” Hank asked, drawing her out of the unpleasant memory.

“No.”

“It’s supposed to.”

“Well, it doesn’t. I mean, I know what the outside world thinks about it. I know we could get in a lot of trouble. But in my heart and soul, I don’t care about that. None of that ever mattered to me. In my eye, you’re just a man. And a damned handsome one, too.”

She draped a leg over him and pushed her body on top of his.

They kissed for a full minute.

When their mouths parted, Hank said, “Well, then, we’re just going to have to be careful, won’t we?”

She nodded, but then couldn’t help but continue. “But I have to say, I might throw caution to the wind and challenge that studio contract morality clause. Olivia de Havilland took Warner Brothers to court and got some changes made. Maybe it’s time someone stood up to them about this.”

“Darlin’, it’s about a lot more than the studio contract. It’s not legal for different races to get married. I’m pretty sure what we’re doing right now isn’t legal. We could go to jail, I think.”

“Then we’ll have to run away and find someplace where we can live the way we want to.” The kissing continued for a while until she finally said, “Damn it. I really need to go.”

She slid off him and put her feet on the floor. “But before I do … would you show me your gun?”

“My gun? What for?”

“Well, you know I had to shoot a prop pistol in The Jazz Club. I have to do it again in A Dame Without Fear. I think maybe I should practice shooting a real gun so I’ll know what it’s really like.”

He put his hands behind his head on the pillow and grinned at her. “We could go out of town and find a place in the desert to take a crack at some bottles and tin cans. I’ll show you how.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun! When can we go?”

“Soon, baby, soon. You had best go before there are too many people on the street who’ll see you.”

She nodded, blew him a kiss, and put on the clothes she’d dropped on the floor the night before.