It was helpful that the gossip columns covered them nonstop. And Billy, for all his reluctance to go along with the studios, seemed thrilled at the constant publicity their romance stirred in the papers.
If the columns were right, Billy Rapp would soon propose to her. Yet each night Billy pulled the Phaeton up to her driveway, opened the door, and kissed her on the cheek before driving off. Nothing more.
The studio was thrilled with the attention that the relationship was getting from the press, so they encouraged her to develop a close alliance with Inez London. At their first fitting, Inez hesitated, indicating that clothes would look better on Nora if she were ten pounds thinner. Sipping bouillon for a week until she felt faint, Nora went back to Inez noticeably thinner. The costumer was impressed with Nora’s determination, picking out five outfits for her each week then, as Nora’s stature rose, loaning out some of her best costumes. While she took most of Inez’s suggestions, Nora also had a great sense for pattern cuts and fabrics, often recommending a longer length for a trumpet skirt or a bias cut on a gown, and she’d return to find that Inez had incorporated her suggestions.
Billy insisted that Nora lighten her hair. The studio was reluctant at first, but Billy met her at the salon, himself, and made his case. The look was a shade up from platinum. Now, when she walked into a room, she was stunning.
Four months went by without any contact from Clint. Halstead had loaned her out for another film, but her best shot at a leading role was Billy’s new film, Starlight Circus, starring opposite Ford Tremaine. When she mentioned it to Halstead, he became quiet.
“Take it up with your boyfriend,” said Halstead.
“He’s not my boyfriend and I did take it up with him,” said Nora. “He won’t answer me. Now I’m taking it up with you.”
“I don’t think there is a role available.” Halstead didn’t meet Nora’s eyes, and the slight stung. Not only was there no starring role for her in Starlight Circus, but it seemed there was no role at all.
Now, at the Santa Monica Beach Club, Nora and Billy sat at the bar. She ordered a tomato juice and vodka. Billy wasn’t drinking these days, which was probably advisable since he tended to brawl when he’d had too many. He drank a cup of steaming black coffee quickly.
“About Starlight Circus—”
“Halstead said you knew.”
Nora was surprised that he’d cut to the chase so quickly and also angry that Halstead hadn’t given her the upper hand in his betrayal, if only for a few minutes. “I’m just disappointed, I guess.”
“You aren’t right for the role.”
This remark stung her more than she expected. Not being “right” for a role was personal. “And Jayne McKenna is?”
“She’ll get along better with Ford.”
“How would you know how Ford and I would get along? You’ve never tested us together. Have I not been your best friend… your drinking buddy? Have I not heard your drunken wailings at all hours… on the phone… in my front lawn… against Hawks… Welles. You have more enemies than friends. Maybe you should take better care of your friends!”
“I didn’t know you required anything in return for your friendship?”
“I expected not to be slighted by my friend when he decided to cast something big, something important. I guess I expected loyalty from you!”
“You aren’t right for the role.” He stared into his cup.
“You keep saying that. Look at me, Billy!”
He met her eyes and was witness to her swollen nose and running makeup; she’d begun to cry.
“I know what roles are right for you, Nora. This one isn’t, okay? You and Ford. It wouldn’t work.” He shook his head. “The chemistry would be no good.”
“Why?” For a moment Nora wondered if he was jealous of Ford Tremaine.
“I just know.” He muttered the reply and she strained to hear while he took a long sip of coffee. “That’s all.”
Nora was silent.
“Halstead got you something big, as a favor to me.”
“I don’t want your charity. Yours or Halstead’s.”
“You just said you didn’t want to be passed over.”
“By you! I thought I’d earned something with you. It matters to me what you think of me. I’m not interested in anything that is given to me out of pity because I lost a role to Jayne McKenna. I thought I had earned your respect, I guess.”
“The part. It’s a movie called Max and Me. You’d be the ‘Max’—the lead. It’s big, Nora. It could be your break.”
Nora let him stammer.
“I passed on directing the movie, but it’s got a perfect part for you. I also have another matter to discuss with you.” Billy looked pathetic slumped over the bar, his hands cradling a now empty cup.
“Why would I want a part in a movie that you declined to direct?”
“Because the movie isn’t right for me, but it is for you.” He looked at her defiantly. “Can you just let this go?”
“No.” Nora stood up. She tossed the napkin on the counter.
“Starlight Circus is Ford’s movie. It’s his picture.” Billy turned on his bar stool. “Jayne will let him be the star. Don’t you understand? The focal point of every picture that you star in is you. Ford can’t handle that.” Billy had dark circles under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept for days. He put on his sunglasses and motioned for the check. With these two moves, he transformed back to the mysterious creature she orbited. “Come with me.”
Nora paused and then followed him out the doors and onto the wooden steps that led down to the beach. He was down the steep stairs in what seemed like one movement, not waiting for her or even looking back to see if she’d made it. He was like this sometimes, usually when he was deep in creative thought. Billy was known for dark films with male lead characters who were tortured by inner demons—gambling, war, cowardice, betrayal—but only realistic films. The new screwball comedy trend, led by Howard Hawks, was rattling Billy, who hated comedy and felt it was trite. There was something about him that refused to be the company man.
Nora wasn’t running after him. She never ran after him and he seemed to respond to it, so she kept up the charade of distance, hoping he’d notice.
Billy turned and saw she wasn’t behind him. He walked back to the step where she stood and what came out next was more of a rehearsed monologue than anything else. “I think we’re good together. You understand me more than most people. We could do big things together.”
Nora shook her head. The wind was whipping and she grabbed at bits of her hair to keep the strands off her face. “You have a part for me?”
Billy paced in the sand, granules kicking up around his heavy steps. He spun around and laughed. What he said next was so unromantic she nearly fainted. “I… I need a wife, Nora.”
“You need a what?” She gulped. Oh, how Nora wished he’d said that he needed her.
“A wife, Nora. I need a wife. I’d like for you to be my wife.” He was getting used to the words. “Will you be my wife?”
“Oh.” She fingered her necklace. She wasn’t naive. As much as she wished this was a romantic gesture, the offer seemed to be one of convenience or guilt or something else she didn’t understand. Back in New York, Nora had let Clint sleep with her to pay the bills, so she wasn’t above a relationship of convenience, but this was the last thing she’d ever wanted from Billy Rapp. Not Billy. Over drives and dinners, she’d listened to him, marveling in his sullenness and genius, and yet his acts of kindness had seemed carved out only for her. Like she was special. Nora had fallen in love with him. This was exactly what she’d wanted to hear, but she’d wanted Billy to love her—to be in love with her. She’d orbited him, hoping for that. This proposal felt like a charade. “Billy, do you love me?”