Grace will be an orphan.”
The flop of his stomach was merited this time. Chicago. Last he heard, Joe was down in Florida, Miami, but he had been in Chicago a year ago. Working for the circus. Damn it, Joe!
Jack took a deep breath, and told himself that he still didn’t have enough information to believe this woman.
“Please, Mr. McCarney. All I’m asking is for you to tell me where I can find Joe. Grace needs her father. Her family. She has no one else.”
No matter how sincere this woman sounded, he had to be cautious. Joe could be anywhere and if he committed to the idea that Joe was the baby’s father, that would make him the baby’s uncle—a responsibility he didn’t need right now.
He pushed the heavy air out of his lungs. “Why should I believe anything you have to say?”
Something flashed in those unique blue eyes. He wasn’t exactly sure what, but suddenly felt a heavy burden stir deep within his chest. A familiar burden that felt too close to the sense of responsibility he’d felt almost his entire life.
“Because I’m telling the truth,” she said quietly. “I don’t want anything else from you. Just Joe’s whereabouts.”
Anger and frustration raced through him. He’d spent the last two years cleaning up messes his brother had left behind—wasn’t even half done—but wasn’t about to get pulled into another one of Joe’s problems. Not if he could help it. “I’d need proof.”
She tilted her head downward and looked over the rim of her glasses as she dug in her purse. “I have Vera and Joe’s wedding picture and marriage license, and I was there when Grace was born.”
He bit back a curse and told himself not to jump to conclusions. A wedding picture and marriage license. That would be proof all right. Or damaging evidence, depending on which way he wanted to look at this. Deep down, he knew she could be telling the truth. Women were drawn to Joe, and he to them. He’d almost married one or two in the past. Actually, three or four, until they’d figured out Joe wasn’t being faithful. That’s what had gotten him blackballed. Infidelity. That time it had been on the woman’s part, and her husband, another actor, hadn’t liked it in the least. Nor had the people they worked for.
“Would you like to see them?” she asked.
Frustration ate at his insides. He couldn’t have another scandal right now. This film meant too much. He’d worked so hard to get back to this point. The cusp of success. Self-made success.
He straightened his spine and rolled his shoulders back, telling himself not to get too caught up in this until he knew the truth. The entire truth. He had a film to make. One that would put Star’s Studio at the top of the charts. In theaters across the nation. He was so close, and had worked too hard keeping his reputation clean despite his brother’s shenanigans.
She was still standing near the sofa, with an envelope in her hand. He walked in that direction, but only as far as his desk, hating the fact that he was putting off the moment when she might just offer the proof of what she was saying. “What’s your name?”
There was a moment of hesitation in her eyes, on her face, but then with a soft sigh, she said, “Helen. Helen Hathaway.”
He leaned against his desk. “Well, Miss Hathaway...” He paused as another thought struck. “It is Miss, isn’t it? Or are you married?” He knew of more than one woman who’d left a husband behind to come to Hollywood. One had told him she’d left five children behind and needed an acting job in order to send money back home in order to feed them. The sad thing was, he’d known she’d been telling the truth.
“No. I mean yes. It’s Miss, I’m not married.”
Her stammering displayed her nervousness, so did her stance. It looked as if she was about to jump out of her shoes, or run for the door.
He nodded and then finished what he’d been about to say earlier. “The last I heard about Joe is that he’s in Florida.”
“Florida?” She turned and stared at the couch, at the baby sleeping there.
“Yes, Florida.”
“Oh, dear.”
He shot across the room as all color left her face. Not sure what to do, because she hadn’t fainted, but was swaying slightly, he asked, “Do you need to sit down?”
She nodded.
He took her arm, guided her a couple of steps backward and onto the opposite end of the couch from where the baby was sleeping.
Despair filled her eyes as she said, “Florida is so far away.”
It was, but he wasn’t concerned about that. “Do you need a drink of water?”
She shook her head. “No, thank you, I’m fine.”
She didn’t look fine to him. Not so much as a hint of color had returned to her cheeks. Something inside him, an instinct of sorts, said it wasn’t Florida that had sapped the life out of her.
“I’m going to get you that glass of water,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
Jack kept one eye on her until he was at the doorway, then he hurried down the hallway to get a glass of water.
Secrecy was just one of the games played in Hollywood. It was played by almost everyone, and was also the one that no one wanted to get caught playing. For the most part, he’d never played that game himself. Hadn’t needed to.
He did recognize it though, and there was more to Helen Hathaway than she was letting on.
He could make some phone calls, see if he could locate Joe and question him about the woman’s accusations. But that was unnecessary. Would be futile, too. If Joe had married someone, and cared about her, or the baby, he wouldn’t need to be searched out.
On the other hand, if it wasn’t true, if this Helen Hathaway was looking for something else, Joe might know what that might be.
Jack clamped his back teeth together. He’d put nearly everything he had into this movie. Others had put up a good amount of money, too—not the Broadbents, real investors, and he was determined that not a hint of Joe’s name would be tied to this movie. Los Angeles was a big town and the movie industry was growing daily. In many ways. Good and bad. Corruption had already burrowed its way deep inside and studios were walking a fine line.
The powers that be who’d put themselves in charge of the industry wanted all of America to believe Hollywood was the pinnacle of this nation. Where dreams came true, streets were lined with gold, and beds made of rose petals.
It was all baloney. The billboards who put themselves in charge had more skeletons in their closets than those they were blackballing—like his brother. But that was the way it was, and would remain, until a few legitimate studios rose high enough to knock the big five off their pedestals.
And it would happen. Others were getting wise to the way the big companies had taken over theaters. Buying them up across the nation and monopolizing the movies that could be shown in “their” theaters. Only their movies. For every big hit, they forced the theaters to show dozens of their low-budget movies, controlling the payouts other films could make.
That was all about to turn around. Which is precisely what he was counting on happening. His new film could be the one that really changed things. It was a good script. With solid actors and a story line that would drive people into the theaters by the droves—theaters that would have the right to show whatever movies they chose. It was all lined up. If he made it with this film, finally he’d have secured his place in the movie industry. Finally he’d have the security he’d wanted for more years than he could count. And he’d have done it his way.