“There’s something I like about you,” he said, pulling me on top of him. And for a moment, all my worries completely disappeared.
The next day, when we broke for lunch, Joy and Ruby went off to get turkey salads. Celia caught my eye. “There’s no chance you’d want to cut out and grab a milk shake, is there?” she asked.
The nutritionist at Sunset would not have liked me getting a milk shake. But what he didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.
Ten minutes later, we were in Celia’s baby-pink 1956 Chevy, making our way to Hollywood Boulevard. Celia was a terrible driver. I gripped the door handle as if it was capable of saving my life.
Celia stopped at the light at Sunset Boulevard and Cahuenga. “I’m thinking Schwab’s,” she said with a grin.
Schwab’s was the place everybody hung around during the day back then. And everybody knew that Sidney Skolsky, from Photoplay, worked out of Schwab’s almost every day.
Celia wanted to be seen there. She wanted to be seen there with me.
“What kind of game are yo
u playing?” I asked.
“I’m not playing any game,” she said, falsely insulted that I’d suggest such a thing.
“Oh, Celia,” I said, dismissing her with a wave of my hand. “I’ve been at this a few more years than you. You’re the one who just fell off the turnip truck. Don’t confuse us.”
The light turned green, and Celia gunned it.
“I’m from Georgia,” she said. “Just outside of Savannah.”
“So?”
“I’m just saying, I didn’t fall off a turnip truck. I was scouted by a guy from Paramount back home.”
I found it somewhat intimidating—maybe even threatening—that someone had flown out to woo her. I had made my way to town through my own blood, sweat, and tears, and Celia had Hollywood running to her before she was even somebody.
“That may be so,” I said. “But I still know what game you’re running, honey. Nobody goes to Schwab’s for the milk shakes.”
“Listen,” she said, the tone of her voice changing slightly, becoming more sincere. “I could use a story or two. If I’m going to star in my own movie soon, I need some name recognition.”
“And this milk shake business is all just a ruse to be seen with me?” I found it insulting. Both being used and being underestimated.
Celia shook her head. “No, not at all. I wanted to go get a milk shake with you. And then, when we pulled out of the lot, I thought, We should go to Schwab’s.’?”
Celia stopped abruptly at the light at Sunset and Highland. I realized at that point that was just how she drove. A lead foot on both the gas and the brake.
“Take a right,” I said.
“What?”
“Take a right.”
“Why?”
“Celia, take the goddamn right before I open this car door and throw myself out of it.”
She looked at me like I was nuts, which was fair. I had just threatened to kill myself if she didn’t put on her blinker.
She turned right on Highland.
“Take a left at the light,” I said.
She didn’t ask questions. She just put on her blinker. And then she spun onto Hollywood Boulevard. I instructed her to park the car on a side road. We walked to CC Brown’s.
