Platinum Doll. Anne Girard
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always says it’s just my hair that makes them look since there aren’t many gals with my particular shade.”
“More likely, it’s the face and body that goes with it,” he said, but he wasn’t smiling.
She didn’t like Chuck to feel jealous, but having been a bookish tomboy not so very long ago, secretly she reveled in the sensation she had when men acknowledged her. Mother had always been the beauty of the family, tall and shapely, with a dignified air. It had been difficult growing up in the shadow of what had seemed to her like a very bright light. But things were changing. She wasn’t in that shadow at the moment. The sunshine belonged to her. Being back in an exciting city like Hollywood was only the beginning of a transformation that she could actually feel. It was exciting just to contemplate growing into her own version of womanhood here, and the things that might mean for her life with Chuck. She wished she could tell him about it, but she wouldn’t dare. At least not yet.
* * *
The theater was packed since this first full-length talkie was the hottest ticket in town and people sat chattering excitedly and then cheering as the house lights were lowered. Harlean loved not having to read the dialogue and she found the new style of film, hearing what she was seeing, entirely captivating.
After it was over, and the audience had applauded, Harlean and Chuck walked outside beneath the bright theater lights and into the cool evening air. There were more handprints and signatures here now than when she was last here. It was exhilarating even to contemplate that stars like Mary Pickford, her husband, Douglas Fairbanks, Tom Mix and Harold Lloyd, true Hollywood royalty, had stood in these very spots and pressed their hands and shoes into wet cement to the cheers of adoring crowds.
She found Clara Bow’s square and stood in those footprints for her mother’s sake. She shivered at the feeling of being so close to the impression of someone so famous. She would tell her mother all about it when she phoned her on Sunday. Teenage fantasy spurred her on, and her heart beat very fast as she wondered what it must be like to be so adored by legions of fans, or to step before a camera knowing your hairstyle, your outfits and even your lipstick shade, would be copied around the world.
“Here’s Pola Negri, doll!” Chuck called out. Then he held up his hands as if he were holding out a microphone. “Say a few words to your fans, Miss Negri,” he playfully bid her.
Harlean smiled, then lowered her head and lifted her eyes as she’d seen the exotic actress do in the magazines. Then, with just a touch of embarrassment, she read what Negri had written in the cement.
“‘Dear Sid, I love your theater. April 1928...’ Oh, gosh, Chuck, she just did these! That’s so exciting to think!”
“What is your favorite thing about being such a big star, Miss Negri, adored everywhere?”
Chuck’s prompting made her giggle.
“Going to bed with my interviewers, most definitely.”
“Why, you vamp.” He smiled.
“How would you like to be my next conquest...what’s your name again?” she asked, innocently batting her eyes and thoroughly enjoying the sudden silly role playing.
“McGrew’s the name, Chuck McGrew. But I’ve got to warn you, I’ve got a very jealous wife.”
“Is that so?”
“Oh, absolutely,” he said with a devilish grin as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “But what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
“If I’m a vamp, you, sir, sure are a cad.”
“Admit it, that’s your favorite thing about me.”
“Not my absolute favorite thing,” she returned, happily playing along as they walked out onto Hollywood Boulevard toward their car.
“Time to get you to bed, doll.”
“I thought you’d never ask,” she teased. He held the door and she climbed into the shiny green roadster.
“I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“For Miss Negri, or your wife?”
“Why don’t you surprise me on that score?”
“A cad and a rake,” she said as he slid onto the seat beside her and started the great rumbling engine.
The next morning, Harlean couldn’t help but feel excited when Chuck told her the surprise he had in store was waiting for her here in Beverly Hills. She hadn’t seen much of this exclusive new residential area on her last trip to California, so that made the prospect even more enticing. It was still a relatively new neighborhood, one ornamented by curving lanes, vast stone or brick estates, a variety of charming Spanish-style bungalows and Tudor cottages—along with some still-empty wide, deep lots. Emerald lawns and rows of tall palm trees bordered lush parks and bridle trails. It was a true sanctuary from the bustling city nearby, and a world away from Kansas City.
“Now what do you think of this fine street?” Chuck asked her. “It’s called Linden Drive.”
“Very posh,” she said, as they pulled over in front of a white stucco house with a terra-cotta roof. There was a small palm tree in the front yard and two bird of paradise plants framing the door. “Why are we stopping?”
“Because we’re home. God, I hope you like it. If you don’t, I’m in big trouble since I put a hefty down payment on the place, sight-unseen, a few weeks ago.”
Her mouth fell open.
“You did what?”
“Married people need a proper home, doll. I wanted to give you that as a wedding gift. Since you liked it so much out here near Hollywood, it just seemed a good place for us to officially start our new life. The real estate agent told me this is one of the best streets in the area. Lots of stylish young couples, and movie types, are buying here right now.”
In her mind, movie stars were like royalty. She and her mother had excitedly combed through all of the Hollywood magazines every month for as long as she could remember. They had read and knew every word of gossip about their exciting lives and careers. Like her mother, Harlean, too, had placed those glamorous icons on pedestals they could see but never quite reach. The prospect of actually living here among them was too spectacular to fully fathom.
He shoved his hands nervously into his trouser pockets. “So, do you like the place?”
“It’s adorable on the outside, Chuck, but can I see the rest of it?”
Of course she would love it, but this was all so sudden. It was hard to know what to think, or even how to react, to his cascading generosity. Most new husbands bought their brides flowers or jewelry, not pretty houses in Beverly Hills. It seemed as if there was nothing he would not do to make her happy.
As they stood facing the house, he took the key from a pocket in his trousers. “Here, take it. It’s yours.”
“The key or the house?”
“Both. And all of my heart, too.”
She kissed his cheek, and then he led her up the brick walkway. After he opened the front door, Chuck scooped her up and whisked her across the threshold.
Harlean found the house too charming for words. After he put her down, she first took in the beamed living room with a fireplace inset with indigo tiles. It was bright and sunny, and smelled new, like oil soap and fresh paint. Her heart was racing.
Next, they went into the dining room and on to the kitchen overlooking the back of the house. There was no furniture in the place yet, except in the bedroom, where a mattress was made up on the floor with pillows and a patchwork quilt. At the foot of the bed, Chuck had somehow placed a carved satinwood table that had belonged to his mother.