Robert tugged the sleeves of his shirt, pulling them from under his tuxedo jacket.
Twilight fell outside his window. Time to get a move on or he’d miss his emcee gig. He needed the practice for whatever job he’d have on the caravan. He wasn’t a wit like Abbott and Costello. And he certainly didn’t have the pipes of Bing Crosby. He couldn’t direct a band or make the crowds laugh like Desi Arnaz. Guess he’d have to be Robert Garfield, plain and simple. Lead the crowds from moment to moment with smoothness and a touch of humor.
That ought to bring the fans in droves.
Selecting a top hat and walking stick, Robert pulled on his gloves and headed out. A 1940 Buick followed a ’42 Studebaker down the boulevard. Someday he’d own his own vehicle, only his would be something sporty with quick pick-up. A short walk down palm-lined streets led to the Roosevelt Hotel. The Spanish architecture-influenced building towered against the night sky at least eleven or twelve stories high. Red marquee lights spelled out the name of the restaurant sitting in front of the hotel. Robert marched past it and toward the main door off Hollywood Boulevard. A bellboy dressed in rich livery opened the door with a grin.
“Sir.”
“Thank you.” Robert tipped his hat, removed it, and started across the lobby then turned back to the bellhop. “Can you direct me to the Blossom Ballroom?”
“Certainly.” He led Robert across the lobby and directed him up a set of stairs. “From there you can follow the women in ball dresses.” He winked at Robert.
“An interesting technique, but looks like it will work.”
“Yes, sir. Hone in on a beautiful woman and follow her. Works even better if she’s alone for the evening.”
Robert laughed. “I’ll remember that. Thank you.”
No sense telling the man the last thing he imagined doing tonight was finding a woman to twirl around the floor when he wasn’t at the microphone. The full rainbow shimmered in the hall as couples made their way to the ballroom. Robert slipped to the edge so he could bypass the crush.
“Robert Garfield.” A sweet soprano voice called him.
Robert turned on his heel, pasting a grin on his face. “Who’s calling?”
A brunette adorned in a silver gown that clung to her body until it fell away from her hips in waves held out her hand. “I heard rumors you’d make an appearance.”
“Elizabeth McAllister. You are breathtaking tonight.” Robert leaned over her hand and brushed his lips across it.
She tittered. “You are kind. Escort me inside?”
“You’re unescorted?” Robert glanced around. “I never thought that day would come.”
“Me either.” She shrugged. “Willing to help?”
“I don’t know that being seen on my arm will make a difference, but let’s make like it will.” Robert offered her his arm, and the two moved across the ballroom.
When they reached a table with an empty seat, Robert bowed toward her and slipped from her grasp. “Here you go, mademoiselle.”
“Thank you. Good luck tonight.” She kissed his cheek. “You’ll do a great job.”
Robert pulled out her chair, cheek hot where her lips had brushed. He glanced around the expansive ballroom. Artie’s instructions echoed in his mind. Find Mr. Feldstein. If he didn’t, the caravan gig might not happen.
He had to hit a homerun tonight.
“There you are.” Goldie smacked her gum, her platinum curls in a crazy wave around her face. “Artie sent me to watch for you hours ago.”
“Not that long.”
She rolled her eyes and blew a bubble. “Maybe, but I’ve turned down too many dances while cooling my heels. This way.” Her skirts swished around her calves as she turned without waiting to see if he followed.
Robert smiled at a woman he passed. They’d both worked a crowd scene in a movie. Looked like someone had worked with her since then. She’d dropped a few pounds, glammed up a bit, as she now wore the latest form-fitting style. She looked ready to become the next Marlene Dietrich. Exactly what the world needed at a time like this—another pin-up girl for the troops to dream about.
He brushed his gloves down his jacket sleeves and bumped into Goldie when she halted.
“Watch it.” Goldie pushed Robert away. “Here’s Artie.”
“Thanks, Goldie.” Robert turned to the table where Artie Schmaltz held court. Instead of the typical two- or four-topper that filled the glittering ballroom, this table had a sea of chairs shoved against it and chairs two or three deep behind it. The starlets that filled each chair added to the illusion Artie had landed in the middle of a rhinestone- bejeweled collage.
“Keeps your paws off, Garfield.” Artie’s eyes glittered like black coals.
Robert held his hands up, palms out. “No interest, I assure you.”
No, if he ever developed a serious interest in a woman again, it would be someone far removed from the superficiality of Hollywood. Yet another strike against him if the studio heads knew. He didn’t fit easily into their system of dictating every action and relationship of the stars. They did that once and it had been a disaster with a world of heartache at the end.
Artie snorted and stuck a smoldering cigar in his mouth. “Come here, Babycakes.”
A dolled-up blonde in a skintight blue gown that left little to the imagination slid onto Artie’s lap and snuggled close. Robert shifted to the side, grateful his kid sister, Louise, had never shown a desire to move into the family’s business. With her angelic looks and naivety, the vultures would circle and tear her to pieces before she knew what happened.
Even if this kid snapped out of it before she was used up, there were a dozen more eager and ready to take her place. And that was limited to the women he could see here. Disgust coiled in his gut. He jammed his hands in his pockets. “So where’s this Feldstein I check in with?”
Artie gestured toward the head table. “See the gorilla up there? He’s with the big studio. He’ll get you set up, not only for tonight but— if he likes you—for the caravan. Break a leg.”
No pressure. He always auditioned in front of a few hundred strangers who all wanted him to fail. Maybe he should have taken more opportunities with the vaudeville act to test his chops in front of a live audience. Tonight he’d aim to exude a debonair aura, far removed from the sticks of middle country vaudeville.
Robert strode across the distance with a nod here and a handshake there before reaching Mark Feldstein, who turned to him with an impatient air. As Robert studied him, he decided gorilla was a bad descriptor. He was larger than most in Hollywood but wore a well-tailored suit and flashy tie that made him fit in with the style conscious.
“Robert Garfield.”
The man eyed him up and down before brushing a strand of hair away from his eyes and sticking out a hand. “Mark Feldstein. I’m glad you’re here. Your hostess is late.” The big man eyed his watch. “Artie promised she was the next Kate Hepburn.”
Robert shrugged. “I suppose. I would think you could get the real Kate.”
“True. She didn’t want to drive back into town for the night, and the bosses said it was okay. You won’t pull things like that on the road?”
Robert shook his head, feeling a slow grin spread on his face. “I’m a team player.”
“That will get you only so far. The rest requires something extra.” Feldstein looked Robert up and down. “You’ll do fine. Show me you can string some thoughts together, maybe get the audience to relax, and you’re on the caravan. No pay, but all expenses.”
“Understood.”
“Good. I get the honor of babysitting the lot of you B-listers for the tour.”
“I’ll keep your job easy.”
“They all say that. In fact, that’s probably what your co-host thought until she decided to run an hour late. You go on in five minutes with or without her. Welcome to showbiz and the art of going with the mood.” A few minutes later, Robert had the agenda as well as instructions on who to introduce. Then Feldstein strode off, muttering under his breath.
Robert took a deep breath and placed his hat, walking stick, and gloves at the head table. He set the agenda next to them. Time to figure out the audience.
While it was a Uniform Services Organization fundraiser, it wasn’t overwhelmed with military uniforms. Which made sense in a way, since it wasn’t the USO itself. But there were a few dress uniforms mixed with tuxedos and the colorful dresses. Small square tables were set around the ballroom. Only a few people like Artie held court in the corners of the room. Waiters circulated with plates of hors d’oeuvres. The aroma of the food mixed with the cloying scent of a dozen perfumes. If he stayed near the front, the mix didn’t overpower him.
Several couples waltzed in the center of the room on the dance floor. In a minute, the bandleader would raise his wand, the music would stop, and Robert would step to the podium. Or maybe he should step to the podium and wait for the band to stop.
He shook his head. If he wanted to make it, he needed to do this in a big way. And he’d never run from a challenge before. It was time to break Lana’s hold on him. All the things she’d said about his lack of acting skills weren’t true. Time to get his head back in the game and focus on what mattered—doing a phenomenal turn as emcee.
The violins and trumpets reached a crescendo and fell silent.“The dancing will continue after the program. Thank you again for joining us. Take it away, Bobby.” The bandleader swiveled on his heels and pointed his baton at Robert.
Robert stumbled to the microphone, bumping into it and sending a screech through the ballroom. “Sorry about that, ladies and gents. Didn’t mean to give you such a loud wake-up call. Welcome to tonight’s festivities in honor of the Uniform Services Organization. Let’s give a round of applause to thank the representatives of the USO who are with us tonight. What great work they do.”
A smattering of applause met Robert.
“Now, folks, let’s give them the applause they deserve for the great work they do raising and maintaining the morale of our troops. We’re here tonight to do more than applaud their efforts. We’ll all be digging deep—” He made a show of searching through his pockets, pulling out one and then another until his monkey suit had lost its stiff formality. “—Some of us deeper than others, to help them with a few dollars to continue their good work. So let’s start with the easy part. If you have served at one of the local USOs, please stand so we can thank you.”
Men and women stood, a few reluctantly, and others bounding to their feet to receive their recognition. Robert led the crowd in applauding them then took a moment to stuff his pockets back inside.
“Before we get to the part where we eat and then separate you from your hard-earned moolah, please welcome Miss Janice Lucille to sing ‘The Star Spangled Banner.’”
A lovely redhead joined him at the podium. With a quick peck on her cheek, Robert backed from the podium as the United States flag with its field of forty-eight stars was marched into the middle of the ballroom. Miss Lucille’s tremulous voice soared impressively over the gathering. As soon as she finished, Robert strode back to the podium, trying to portray the image of an urbane gentleman.
“Many thanks to Miss Lucille for that stirring performance. In a moment, the waiters will come with our meals. Before they do, let’s take a moment to thank God for His many blessings and ask His protection on our men fighting around the globe. If you’ll bow your heads... Heavenly Father, we ask that Your sheltering hand would be on our troops as they train and fight around the world. Give our leaders wisdom. And guide us tonight. Bless this food and be honored. Amen.
“You may enjoy your meal.”
Robert eased to his seat. It could be a long evening if he had to sit at the front alone.
“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”
He looked up into the beautiful face of his traveling companion from the plane. Her hair tumbled in loose waves around her face, a face that looked even whiter than it had when they landed. The rich color of her navy gown did nothing to heighten her color. A slight tremor coursed through her body.
What was she doing here without Rosemary?