The Fairchilds’ chic living room was already packed with people, the air filled with the rumble of voices and soft laughter, women in long gowns leaning closer to hear the latest scandal, men plucking appetizers off trays as they talked business. The long room stretched toward French doors that opened to the backyard, where the band played.
To Kate, the scene was reassuringly familiar.
But this crowd looked a little flashier than Aunt Lorna’s circle, as one would expect in Hollywood, the dresses more glamorous, the voices more animated. Kate spotted a few faces that looked familiar from the studio—and two actresses she recognized from her favorite movie last year, Stage Door, but she didn’t know their names.
Clive Falcon stood out in the crowd with his tall stature and distinctive silver mustache, wearing a white dinner jacket over black pants. He stood with a cluster of men, but had his head turned to watch Mrs. Fairchild across the room as he sipped his cocktail.
Kate didn’t see Bonnie anywhere, and no signs that this was the birthday celebration of a sixteen-year-old girl.
Heads started to turn as people recognized her, and she stood a little straighter, suddenly aware that she was alone, breaking Aunt Lorna’s number-one rule of party survival: Always have a sidekick.
“Kate!” a woman’s voice called, and she turned to see Stella Nixon’s hand lifted at the deep end of the room—the only woman with a straight bob haircut in a sea of fashionable curls. The hand turned into a summons, and Kate weaved her way through the crowd. “Where is Hugo? I must tell him he was correct about the coatroom scene—one hundred percent correct.” Stella flicked her cigarette over a potted plant. Her beaded gown was long and lean and very green.
“He’ll be here soon, I hope.” Kate glanced over her shoulder at the front door.
“I’ve been trapped in that coatroom scene for weeks, wrangling with those bickering school boys, and Hugo saw the problem at once. They shouldn’t argue until they get down to the lake, or the emotional timing is all off. Hugo is a godsend, truly.” She brought the cigarette to her lips.
Kate liked hearing Hugo praised. “He’ll get credit for his contribution, I hope.”
“Oh, I should love nothing more, believe me, but that’s not how it works in this business. It’s the name on a project that brings in investors, and in this case, that’s me. All those shiny awards on my shelf. I can’t have two or three names on my scripts or it dilutes all the impact. You understand?”
“I do, but Hugo deserves some compensation.”
“So—you’re an agent now?” Stella looked amused. “I better be careful, or I’ll be giving a cut to both of you.”
“I don’t want a cut, but Hugo—”
“Stand down, darling. You’re completely right. I’ll pay him fifty cents an hour for the time he gave me. How does that sound?”
“Fifty cents? You just called him a godsend.”
“Sixty cents, but not a penny more. I’m a starving artist.”
“Well, you’ll have to negotiate with Hugo, obviously.” Although Kate suspected he’d been quite happy to do it for free.
Stella tilted her cigarette in Kate’s direction, looking amused. “You’re a girl after my own heart, Kate—and that boy’s heart, I’d say, judging by the way he couldn’t stop talking about you today.”
Kate froze. “What did he say?”
Stella laughed, blowing a stream of smoke. “Nothing that isn’t written all over your face.”
“Kate!” Tad’s voice called, and she turned to see him entering from the backyard, his jacket unbuttoned, his bowtie crooked, his blond hair disheveled. His gaze moved down her party dress with appreciation. “You clean up nice.”
“And you look like you’re enjoying the party.”
He laughed, smelling of alcohol, his cheeks too red. “Been up since four in the morning and never felt better. Come meet my old schoolmates. Nothing but old fogeys in here.”
“No offense taken,” Stella drawled.
“Oh. Hello, Stella. We made a few changes, but your script is going to stand for the most part, so you can go back to your own projects now. Still working on that old script of yours about the Trojan horse?”
“Forever, darling. I’ll be typing in my casket.” She brought the cigarette to her lips, her eyes narrowed with dislike.
“Come on,” Tad told Kate, tugging her hand toward the French doors.
Kate resisted, looking back. But Stella waved her on, calling out, “I’ll tell your great American author where to find you!”
The backyard looked magical, lit only by the large moon and strings of lights. A small orchestra of men in white jackets played off to the side, while couples danced on the patio.
Kate spotted what must have been Tad’s crowd standing near a bar—five college-aged boys and two girls being a little more boisterous than anyone else. Bonnie stood at their fringes, wearing a sweet party dress with puffed sleeves, but she looked a bit lost, her smile strained. She saw Kate and brightened, hurrying toward her. “You’re here! Where’s Aurelio?”
“He had to rehearse late, but he’ll be here soon.”
Bonnie whirled to face Tad. “You promised he could leave early tonight!”
Tad smirked, and it occurred to Kate that he’d made Aurelio work late on purpose. “Don’t fret, bunny rabbit. Plenty of dance partners to keep you happy. I think Charlie’s got his eye on you, eh, Charlie?”
A lanky boy lifted a glass. Kate was surprised to see Bonnie’s tutor Glenn Petersen standing next to him and exchanged a small wave.
“My old gang from Marlowe Prep,” Tad said. “That’s Goose, Charlie, you know Glenn, Mike, and—sorry, I forget your name.” The last boy threw an olive. “Oh, yeah, that’s Beezie. Avoid him.”
“Don’t the girls have names?” Kate asked.
“Sure—that’s Goose’s skirt, and that’s Mike’s skirt.”
Everyone laughed, including the girls. One of them called out, “I’m Norma, and that’s Betty.”
“And this is Kitty Hildebrand,” Tad said. “But you all knew that.”
They shouted friendly hellos. At a glance, they reminded Kate of her friends back home, just a year or two older. “Do any of you go to Caltech, like Glenn?” she asked, which drew a chorus of jeers. She gathered from the overlapping voices that Beezie went to Caltech, three of them went to USC, and Betty went to Cal’s LA campus.
Tad said, “I have to drag them off the school playground now and then, so they can see how the real world works.”
“We can’t all have movie moguls for fathers!” Goose called out. “Some of us actually need an education before someone will pay us!”
Tad laughed, but Kate could see the jab stung.
Charlie held a drink toward her. “Your hands look empty.”
She didn’t take it. “No, thanks.” Having her faculties dulled, leaving her unprepared, was Kate’s idea of a nightmare.
“Birthday girl, then.” Goose handed the drink to Bonnie with a wink.
Bonnie stared at the amber liquid, her eyes wide.
“Probably good to keep a clear head tonight,” Kate advised, putting a tentative hand around the glass. Bonnie nodded, and Kate set the drink on the bar.
“What did I tell you, boys?” Tad swung an arm around Kate’s shoulders, bringing his boozy breath too close. “She keeps me in line. We make a good team.”
“At work.” Kate extracted herself.
Bonnie’s tutor came forward, not looking happy about Tad’s behavior. “How about a dance?” She gave him a grateful smile and took his arm.
“I didn’t realize you and Tad were old school friends,” she said.
“That’s how I got the tutoring job.” They started foxtrotting, Glenn leading with small, precise steps, keeping a respectful distance between them. He said, “I looked for you on set today to talk about calculus, but you looked pretty busy.”
“Sorry, it was a hectic day.” Kate turned her head to keep an eye on the French doors, hoping Hugo would appear.
“If you don’t work on Sunday, I thought we could drive to the beach. Might as well sit somewhere nice while we talk about derivatives.”
“Oh…” She spotted someone inside the house who looked like Hugo, but wasn’t. “Actually, I think doing it at the studio is better.”
“I told my uncle about you. He belongs to an astronomy club.”
Bonnie danced past them, struggling to follow Charlie’s rather loose interpretation of a foxtrot. “Keep up, Bonnie rabbit!” he called out, and Kate wished he could see what Bonnie was capable of with a decent partner.
“One-dimensional tubes,” Glenn said, and Kate realized she’d missed part of what he was saying. “He knows it’s all nonsense, but it’s fun to think about. Anyway, he said his friend could probably give us a tour.”
“Tour?”
“Of Mount Wilson. His friend works there.”
Kate stopped dancing. “Mount Wilson Observatory? That would be amazing!” She forced her feet to move again. “That’s the first thing I thought of when I found out I was moving here, but I heard it’s only open to the public in the summer.”
Glenn’s hand tightened on her back. “I’ll call my uncle in the morning.”
She bit her lower lip, aware that taking advantage of Glenn’s romantic interest to see an observatory wasn’t a very nice thing to do. Also aware that she would probably do it anyway.
He started talking about a lecture on gravitational forces he’d attended a few days ago, but she barely heard, wondering if Edwin Hubble would be at the observatory. The prospect of meeting Edwin Hubble in the very place where he did his work made her feel giddy.
“Now, there’s a funny sight,” Glenn said, looking over her shoulder at the house. Kate craned her neck but couldn’t see that far. She noticed a couple of women at the edge of the dance floor also looking toward the house, laughing behind their hands. Glenn’s careful dance steps finally turned her enough to see what amused them—
And her heart dropped.
Reuben, Hugo, and Aurelio stood just outside the house, side by side, their heads turned to look at the band, giving her a moment to observe them unnoticed.
The suits were a disaster. Too baggy, too tight, too long, too short. She’d forgotten about taping up Reuben’s pants, so they puddled at his ankles, and his jacket was too snug, pulling at the buttons. Hugo’s jacket was huge, hanging past his wrists, while his pants were too short, revealing white socks. Aurelio had a bowtie, but Hugo and Reuben wore long daytime ties, brightly colored and striped. Completely wrong. And the shoes—brown, scuffed, cracked and dirty. Kate kicked herself for not borrowing black evening shoes—for not remembering one of Aunt Lorna’s favorite sayings: The shoes—that’s how you spot a society imposter.
The suits and shoes were Kate’s fault, but even if they’d been perfect, the three of them looked like a comedy sketch—obvious misfits at a posh party: Reuben, short and grumpy, his scarred cheek drooping; Hugo, a dangerous street thug who might pocket the silverware; Aurelio, too eager and grinning, literally bouncing on his toes.
Kate flushed with embarrassment for them—and anger at herself. Hugo had known he wouldn’t fit in, but she’d insisted, filled with grand visions of introducing him to producers and directors. But she couldn’t introduce him wearing that ridiculous suit and loud tie, looking like—
Hugo saw her.
His mouth curved in a slow, personal smile that made her heart turn over, but the smile hesitated before fully forming, and she knew he’d seen her own doubts.
“Aurelio!” Bonnie squealed, abandoning her dance partner to run to him. She gave him a quick embrace, then pulled back to greet them all with a happy laugh, her excited voice rising above the music, welcoming them to her party—despite how they looked. As if she hadn’t noticed.
Kate was ashamed of herself.
The song ended. “Excuse me,” she said to Glenn. “Some friends of mine have just arrived.”
“I’d like to meet them.” He came with her, his hand settling on her shoulder as they walked.
Hugo’s gaze settled on her shoulder too, his eyes tightening.
“—and I got mad at Tad for making you work late, but now you’re here, and we can dance for everyone, and everything is perfect!”
Kate met Hugo’s puzzled eyes. “Hello,” she said, unsure how everything could feel so tense between them after last night.
“Hello. You look beautiful.” His voice had that low rasp in it that she loved, but it only made him seem more out of place—a rebel with dark, tousled hair. “I like your dress.”
“Thank you.” Her own voice sounded too proper.
Glenn held out his hand to Hugo. “Glenn Petersen. I work with Kate.”
Hugo shook his hand, his eyes narrowing with a wicked glint. “Hugo Quick. I live with her.”
“Glenn is very smart,” Bonnie said. “He goes to college, and has the fattest books, and talks about Einstein.”
“Engineering student,” Glenn told Hugo, seeming to sense the competition. “Caltech. How about you?”
“Actor, currently out of work.” He was enjoying this.
“Where’s the food?” Reuben asked. “I didn’t put on this penguin suit for nothing.”
“Oh—this way!” Bonnie grabbed Aurelio’s hand and led them all through the French doors.
Kate did her best to walk with Hugo as they entered the house. “Sorry about the suits,” she murmured.
He cast her a confused look. “What do you mean?”
She didn’t know what to say to that, only seeing the differences in their lives.
Bonnie weaved them through the crowd to a long table pressed against the side of the living room, covered in trays and tureens and a showy display of flowers. Bonnie’s three-tiered birthday cake was at one end of the table, with several slices already carved out of it.
“Mm, I always like those scallops with bacon,” Glenn said to Kate. “And the ham looks good. Shall I fix you a plate?”
Kate was overly aware of Hugo on her other side. “No, thank you. I’m not hungry.” She added, “And if I were, I’d fix my own plate.”
Hugo huffed a quiet laugh that made her feel understood. She kept close to him as he picked up a plate and moved down the table, dishing up food.
“So, Kate.” Glenn kept up on her other side. “If I can arrange Mount Wilson on Sunday, does that work for you? I can bring a picnic basket, and we can stop along the way.”
Hugo slapped a spoonful of mashed potatoes onto his plate.
Kate felt the pull of two opposing gravitational forces—Hugo on one side, Mount Wilson Observatory on the other. “I, uh, don’t think this Sunday is good for me.”
“All right. We’ll find another date.”
She wished he hadn’t used that word, but hearing it generated a quiet growl from Hugo that suddenly made everything clear. “Glenn … I left my wrap in the backyard. Would you mind fetching it for me?”
“Of course.” Glenn put down his plate and hurried away.
Hugo cast her a quizzical look.
“I didn’t bring a wrap.” He still frowned, so she added, “You can’t blame me for being tempted by the world’s largest aperture telescope.”
“Is that what he is?”
She laughed at that, and Hugo smiled in return—and finally, they were back in last night.
“This is disgusting,” Reuben said, crowding in beside them, taking a bite from a chicken leg.
Kate dragged her eyes from Hugo’s. “Doesn’t it taste good?”
“Sure. The extravagant waste tastes fine.” Reuben wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Enough to feed a hundred starving people, and nobody’s touching it.”
“Nobody eats at parties like this,” Kate said. Even though every hostess put out a lavish spread, eager to impress.
“Kings and queens of the capitalist system, bored by a feast. They don’t know the taste of real hunger.”
“Pipe down,” Hugo said, reaching for a roll. “I’d like to enjoy some of this extravagant waste before you get us thrown out.”
The three of them moved to the back corner of the room, while Bonnie and Aurelio remained near the birthday cake, giggling.
Reuben lifted a forkful of mashed potatoes. “The farmer who grew these probably lost his life savings to a bunch of Wall Street crooks.”
“He’s just miffed because the letters were fake,” Hugo said. He took a bite of his roll.
It took Kate a second to understand, then her eyes widened. “George Washington is fake?”
Hugo spoke out of the side of his mouth. “And Lincoln and Jefferson. All forgeries, according to the expert we saw today. Good quality though, so it’s not surprising Ollie got scammed.”
“Frank Fairchild is the one who got scammed,” Kate said. “He bought them on Ollie’s behalf.”
“Worthless paper,” Reuben muttered. “I’ll bet that auction house was in on it. That’s why they disappeared. Laughing all the way to—” His voice halted, his gaze riveted on the front of the living room.
Kate turned to look.
A handsome man with wavy, gray hair entered the room, followed by two large men. He wasn’t dressed for an evening party—a pinstripe, double-breasted suit with a red flower in the lapel and a flashy red tie—but his eyes raked the room as if he owned the place. His gaze lingered on beautiful Mrs. Fairchild.
“Jeez, I got to get out of here.” Reuben shoved his plate into the hands of a passing caterer. He turned, but the French doors were clogged by laughing people. He started toward a side hall that probably led to the kitchen, but only got two steps before the man in pinstripes noticed him.
Reuben froze.
The crowd seemed to part as the man crossed the room, trailed by one of the large men. As he neared, he stretched out his arms, but the hands he clasped on Reuben’s upper arms seemed more like an iron cage than a greeting. “Reuben Feigenbaum.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve been on my mind all day, and now here you are, where I least expected, the very man I’m most eager to see.”
Reuben’s bulldog face paled.
“That’s Moe Kravitz,” Hugo whispered near Kate’s ear. “The most dangerous man in Los Angeles.”