“I’m not sure it will fit me,” Celia said.
“Try it on. I bet it will, and if it does, it’s yours.”
I wanted to give her a lot of things. I wanted what I had to be hers. I wondered if this was what it felt like to love someone. I already knew what it meant to be in love with someone. I’d felt it, and I’d acted it. But to love someone. To care for them. To throw your lot in with theirs and think, Whatever happens, it’s you and me.
“All right,” Celia said. She threw the shirt on the bed. As she pulled off her own shirt, I found myself looking at the paleness of the skin stretched across her ribs. I gazed at the bright whiteness of her bra. I noticed the way her breasts, instead of being lifted by the bra like mine, appeared as if the bra were there merely for decoration.
I followed the tiny trail of dark brown freckles that ran along the side of her right hip.
“Well, hello,” Don said.
I jumped. Celia gasped and scrambled to put her shirt back on.
Don started laughing. “What on earth is going on in here?” he teased.
I walked over to him and said, “Absolutely nothing.”
PhotoMoment
November 2, 1959
LIFE OF THE PARTY GIRL
Celia St. James is really making a name for herself around town! And it’s not just because she’s proving to be a swell actress. The Georgia Peach knows how to make all the right friends.
The most high-profile of which is everyone’s favorite starlet Evelyn Hugo. Celia and Evelyn have been seen all over town, shopping, chatting, and even finding time for a round or two of ladies’ golf at the Beverly Hills Golf Club.
And to make matters even more perfect, it seems the best friends will be going on plenty of double dates in the near future. Celia has been spotted at the Trocadero with none other than Robert Logan, close friend of Evelyn’s hubby, Don Adler.
A handsome date, glamorous friends, and talk of a statuette in her future—it’s a good time to be Celia St. James!
I DON’T WANT TO DO this,” Celia said.
She was wearing a tailored black dress with a deep-V neckline. It was the kind of dress I could never wear out of the house or I’d be picked up on a prostitution charge. She had on a diamond necklace that Don had persuaded Sunset to loan to her.
Sunset wasn’t in the business of helping freelance actresses, but Celia wanted the diamonds, and I wanted Celia to have anything she wanted. And Don wanted me to have anything I wanted, at least most of the time.
Don had just starred in his second Western, The Righteous, after he had lobbied Ari Sullivan hard for one more crack at bat. This time, however, the reviews were telling a different story. Don
had “manned up.” He was convincing everyone, on his sophomore try, that he was a formidable action star.
Which translated into Don having the number one movie in the country and Ari Sullivan giving Don anything he asked for.
That’s how those diamonds made their way onto Celia’s neck, the large center ruby resting at the top of her breasts.
I was in emerald green again. It was a look that was starting to become my signature. This time, it was off the shoulder and made of peau de soie, with a cinched waist, full skirt, and beading on the neckline. My hair was down in a brushed-under bob.
I looked over at Celia, who was looking in the mirror at my vanity, fiddling with her bouffant.
“You have to do this,” I said.
“I don’t want to. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
I picked up my clutch, made to match my dress. “Not really,” I said.
“You’re not the boss of me, you know,” she said.
“Why are we friends?” I asked her.
