Stardust (The Starlight Trilogy #3) Page 3

  Aidan couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her smile was so large there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he’d satisfied her. She was radiant. Glowing. All on account of him.

  He should’ve been smiling, too. He should’ve been proud of his ability to bring her such happiness…but instead, he was occupied by the overwhelming concern that he’d been too rough with her, used language that was too crude.

  Aidan was always adamant never to expose Beth to his more reckless side, especially when they were intimate, no matter how much she begged for it or how much his actions were driven by his feelings for her and his desire to please her. It was his duty to protect her, and fueling her pleasure by tapping into his pain, his unpredictability, and his obsession wasn’t healthy for her.

  Yesterday, he had only used the gentlest of touches and was able to keep his passion in a safe zone, regardless of her encouragement to do the opposite. Where had the romantic hero gone? What the hell had happened between now and then?

  Aidan collected her in his arms and kissed her temple. From now on, he wouldn’t take any risks. He wasn’t a monster. He was a man—a good one, according to Beth—and he’d taken great strides to earn that title. The ease with which he’d transformed tonight, however, set a precarious precedent and made him question how emotionally stable he truly was.

  Chapter Four

  Charlie greeted Beth as she pulled up to the security hut at Starlight Studios. “Good morning, Miss Sutton. Congratulations on your Academy Award.”

  She smiled. “Thanks! I still can’t believe I won.”

  “Well, you deserve it.” Charlie eyed her Cadillac. “My, what an impressive car.”

  “Oh, I forgot you haven’t seen it yet. This is only my second time driving it to the studio. The first time was just after Valentine’s Day. You were on vacation.”

  “What made you decide to buy this model? That’s quite a lot of horsepower for such a young girl.”

  Beth giggled. “True. But its safety rating is also unmatched—or so I was told.”

  “I bet it is.” The security arm lifted. “Have a wonderful day, Miss Sutton.”

  “You, too, Charlie.” Beth rolled up her window and proceeded toward soundstage five.

  This morning, she was filming with Clive Geary, the actor playing Joe Oliver’s boxing trainer in Golden Gloves. Aidan wasn’t needed on set until after lunch. Although he offered to take her to work, she insisted on driving herself so he could keep his appointment to have his Porsche tuned up at nine o’clock. Olivia had a day off, a rare occurrence, and chose to spend it at home preparing for dinner with their friends tonight. Beth and Aidan would join them after filming wrapped for the day.

  Beth looked forward to the shoot but also dreaded the end of Golden Gloves. Working on a film with such depth and such a talented cast and crew had spoiled her. Aidan had control over the movies he acted in while she did not. What if Mr. Mertz assigned her to a motion picture filmed across the country—or worse, on another continent? And what if her next role lacked the complexity she found so creatively rewarding in her portrayal of Mary Oliver? It seemed that along with her budding fame came a slew of new worries.

  This uncertainty made her cherish having Aidan as her costar even more, and she was determined to finish Golden Gloves on a positive note. Visiting Chicago was the source of much strife for Aidan because his father lived there, but she hoped filming a movie he loved and spending time with her in the city would make the experience enjoyable for him.

  Inside the soundstage, the crew prepared for filming with so much energy it was impossible to tell it was six o’clock in the morning. With Beth’s appearance, everyone stopped what they were doing and broke into applause, offering her congratulations on her Oscar win.

  She thanked them and headed to her dressing room to get ready. Aside from the application of foundation and mascara, and the swap of her pedal pushers and blouse for a light cotton dress, she didn’t look much different from when she arrived.

  Back on set, Beth joined Elia Kazan in the living room of Joe and Mary’s apartment.

  He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. “I’m thrilled for you, Beth. No one deserved that Academy Award more than you.”

  Beth didn’t think she could smile any brighter, but she was wrong. “Thank you. That means a lot to me coming from you.”

  “Since we’re winding down the L.A. portion of our shoot, today will be an easy one.” Kazan motioned to the living room couch. “Have a seat and we’ll discuss the first scene.”

  Beth sat down and picked up her character’s prop—a half-finished scarf and two knitting needles.

  Kazan took a seat next to her to offer direction away from Clive and the crew. “Beth, as you know, in this scene, George convinces Mary to encourage Joe to return to boxing. George’s visit is nice, but unexpected. This man is from Joe’s past, a past that is painful for him but also the source of much of the joy in his early life. You’re grateful to George for coming by, but apprehensive, so do some business that shows it.”

  “Some business, sir?”

  He patted her shoulder. “Yeah. You’ll figure out something.”

  Beth’s eyes widened. She was honored he was so confident in her. “Thank you, Mr. Kazan.”

  “You’ll do great, kid.” Kazan stood and exchanged a few words with Clive before claiming his place beside the camera. “Okay, lock it up!”

  “Lock it up!” yelled the first assistant director.

  The red lights mounted over every exit illuminated. A buzzer sounded three times. All the talking died, and the clapperboard sounded off.

  “Action.”

  Beth performed a basic stitch her mother taught her and settled into the scene. A knock signaled Clive’s arrival.

  Mary set her knitting project on the coffee table and rose from the couch. “Now, who could that be? I’m not expecting visitors this evening.” She opened the door cautiously and smiled. “George! What a pleasant surprise.”

  “Hello, Mary.” George removed his fedora. “I’m sorry for stopping by unannounced. May I come in?”

  “Yes, of course.” She stepped aside. “Joe isn’t here. He’s working a double shift at the factory today.”

  George took off his coat. “That’s all right. I came to talk to you actually.”

  Mary’s eyebrows drew together. While she considered George a dear friend, their association was solely on account of her husband’s close relationship with him. What could they possibly discuss in Joe’s absence?

  She placed George’s coat and hat in the closet and led him into the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “No, thank you. I’m afraid I cannot stay long.” George sat at the table. “Mary, I’ve come to ask for your help. Joe needs to return to boxing and you’re the only person who can convince him to do so.”

  Mary sank into her seat. Goodness. Joe, boxing again? Did she want her husband to return to the sport he loved? Absolutely. However, it wasn’t that easy.

  “Oh, George. It’s a lovely idea, really. But what happened five years ago…it devastated him. I’m not sure he possesses the mental capabilities to fight again.”

  George nodded. “I get it. He feels guilty and afraid, but he belongs in the ring. He’s a boxer. That’s his identity, not some poorly paid factory worker.”

  Mary frowned. “It hurts me to see Joe so broken. The death of his opponent was a tragedy, but it also wasn’t his fault. He won’t accept that, though, no matter how many times I’ve told him.”

  “All the more reason for him to return to boxing—but not just fighting in general. I want to train him for the middleweight championship. It’ll give him something positive to work toward, a purpose. It’s the only way he’ll overcome his past and reclaim his self-worth.” George leaned forward and grasped her hands. “Twice a week, every week, he visits me at the gym, Mary. He lights up when he watches the other guys train. Deep down, he wants to be them. I know it.”

  The memo
ry of Aidan’s recent breakdown on set yanked Beth out of the scene. Tears sprung to her eyes, her lower lip quivered. Just when she thought she couldn’t go on, she channeled her real life concern into her character and wept for her beau. She’d do anything to help Aidan achieve inner peace, just as Mary would do for Joe.

  George offered his handkerchief. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “I know you only want what’s best for him. So do I.” She dabbed her eyes. “I’ll try my hardest to encourage his return, but you know how stubborn he can be.”

  “You can convince him.” George stood. “I have faith in you.”

  Mary followed him to the door and returned all of his belongings, including the handkerchief.

  George placed his fedora on his head. “Take care, Mary. Good night.” He tipped his hat and left.

  Mary shut the door and exhaled a deep breath. Could she do this? Could she convince her husband that George was right? A smile shot across her face. Yes. Yes, she could—if it meant Joe’s happiness.

  “I love you, Joe Oliver.” She held her head high. “I’ll make you see that the boxing ring is where you belong, if it’s the last thing I ever do!”

  “And…cut.”

  Beth turned to her director. Clive walked around the fake wall of the apartment and joined her. The crew erupted into applause—a rare gesture from seasoned men and women who’d seen it all in the industry and then some.

  “That was extraordinary!” Kazan rushed the set. “My intention was to cut the scene when you two left the table, but your performances, especially yours Beth—the dedication you conveyed, the love, the strength—incredible! I couldn’t interrupt you. And those tears—Luther Mertz’s people sure as hell didn’t teach you such genius. That was Method acting completely.”

  Clive grinned. “I agree with Gadg, Beth. That was the best scene we’ve ever filmed together.”

  Beth didn’t care if she looked childish. She hugged Kazan and then Clive, unable to contain her excitement. “Thank you both so much!”

  “We’ll launch right into the next scene, so we don’t lose momentum.” Kazan clapped once to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s set up for scene forty.”

  Beth claimed her assigned chair at the side of the set. While she waited for her call, a young messenger approached. Two men, one blond and one brown-haired, accompanied him—the same intimidating men who had disrupted the first day of filming.

  Beth blanched. Thank goodness she was already sitting down.

  “Miss Sutton, this is for you.” The messenger handed her a telegram and departed without his companions.

  She scanned the telegram.

  Elizabeth Sutton,

  Your attendance is required at the office of Mr. Luther J. Mertz immediately.

  — Ethel Ashby

  Beth bristled. Normally, she would comply with her boss’s orders without question, but as a professional actress, filming Golden Gloves was her priority.

  “I have a shooting schedule to adhere to, gentlemen. Please tell Mr. Mertz I will see him during my lunch hour.”

  The blond man stepped forward, his hands clasped in front of him. “Miss Sutton, the meeting cannot wait. You must come with us now.”

  Beth crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s ridiculous. Why on earth—?”

  She snapped her mouth shut. Of course. Aidan was scheduled to arrive at lunchtime.

  The brown-haired man gestured across the soundstage. “Miss Sutton, we are not here to forcibly remove you from the set but merely escort you to your meeting.”

  “Escort me.” Beth rolled her eyes. “I see. And if I refuse?”

  The blond man cleared his throat. “Ma’am, please just come with us.”

  Kazan walked up to them. “What’s going on here? I told you mopes not to bother us again.”

  “Miss Sutton is required to see Luther Mertz immediately.” The blond man scowled. “The matter is not up for negotiation.”

  Kazan shook his head. “This is my goddamn set, my film. Not Luther’s. He has no right.”

  The brown-haired man flashed a tight smile, like his facial muscles had never formed the expression before. “According to Mr. Mertz, Miss Sutton will be back within the hour.”

  Kazan sighed. “Listen, Beth. I hate to say it, but it’s best if you see Luther now. The sooner you have this meeting, the sooner you’re back. If we have to work an extra hour this evening, so be it, as long as it gets him off our backs.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Beth narrowed her eyes at the two men. “Fine. Let’s go.”

  A studio limousine waited outside. They made the trip to Mr. Mertz’s office building in tense silence.

  Ethel smiled from behind her desk as they exited the elevator on the top floor. “Mr. Mertz is expecting you, Miss Sutton. You can go right in.”

  Beth walked to the double doors guarding Mr. Mertz’s office. Her escorts stayed behind. Perhaps she should’ve called Aidan to notify him of the meeting, but then he’d insist on accompanying her, which would be an admission of guilt. She wouldn’t allow Mr. Mertz to bully her. She would defend her absence from the Oscars after party, which was surely what this nonsense was all about, and then be on her way.

  Mr. Mertz’s face darkened upon her entry. She sat across from him, barely able to look him in the eye, but she did so nonetheless.

  “How dare you skip the Academy Awards after party. As you were told in advance, Miss Sutton, that is where you speak to the press on a more intimate level than on the red carpet and backstage at the ceremony. It is imperative for every nominated person to show up, but especially the winners. Now, I told you if you obeyed me, you could have your fling with Aidan Evans in secret, but this callous disregard of my orders has pushed me too far.”

  Beth wrung her hands but ensured her face didn’t reveal her nervousness. “You see, sir, I wasn’t feeling well and—”

  “Don’t play dumb with me, girl.” Mr. Mertz’s upper lip peeled back, like a serpent ready to strike. “I know you left the Pantages Theatre with Mr. Evans, probably on that motorcycle death trap of his, to go gallivanting around L.A. You’re just lucky the press didn’t catch you or else we would not even be having this discussion. I would’ve suspended you without pay indefinitely.”

  Nathan’s prior advice on this very subject became Beth’s only argument. “You won’t suspend me. I’ve won an Academy Award and I’m one of the most popular actresses at your studio. Not to mention I’m currently starring in your next big motion picture, into which you’ve invested a lot of money. Delays in filming would only serve to expand the project’s budget, which is something I know you go to great lengths to avoid.”

  Mr. Mertz seethed. “I have zero tolerance for threats, Miss Sutton. If you know what’s best for you, you’ll watch what you say to me from now on.”

  Beth shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, in spite of her overwhelming urge to cry. “Interpret it however you wish, sir.”

  Mr. Mertz leapt from his seat and rounded the desk. “Mr. Evans has implanted false ideas in your head. Make no mistake. You are nothing without me!”

  Beth cowered from him. “If you don’t leave us alone, I’ll tell the press all about your dictatorship at this studio and how you’re trying to control my life.”

  Mr. Mertz swiped his hand across his desk, sending a basket of pens to the floor. “Who do you think you are? You signed a contract. Even when you’re not on official studio business, you are obligated to act as I see fit!”

  Beth stood and moved so her chair was between them. “I don’t understand. Wouldn’t my relationship with Aidan be good publicity for Golden Gloves?”

  “No, it will not!” Blood rose in Mr. Mertz’s face. “Mr. Evans is reckless and your image is wholesome. We’ve been over this before, Miss Sutton. Until after the release of Golden Gloves, I have to assume that the public would be appalled if they found out about your relationship. I was able to downplay the Valentine’s Day incident because you
and Mr. Evans dined with friends, amongst many of my employees. This time, however, you were alone, proving you cannot be trusted to follow my orders.”

  Beth shook her head. “There’s no evidence to support that I left the theater with Aidan.”

  Mr. Mertz scoffed. “You were the only two people absent from the after party. How dimwitted do you think I am?”

  Beth gripped the back of the chair. “Why did you sanction our relationship in the first place, as long as we remained discreet? I never questioned it previously, but now I realize there must’ve been a reason you were so agreeable.”

  Mr. Mertz waved his hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. Now that you’ve pulled this stunt, I forbid you to see him off set. Then when Golden Gloves wraps, you won’t have your costars excuse anymore. Do you hear me? It’s over between you two.”

  Tears toppled down Beth’s face. There was only one way out. It was a difficult decision, but necessary. “Not if I quit.”

  Mr. Mertz’s hands curled into fists. “You don’t have the authority to quit. You’re signed with my studio for another six years.”

  “I don’t care. I’ll seek legal counsel on the grounds of emotional abuse. If it means Aidan and I can stay together, I’ll find a way. I’ll sacrifice my career for our relationship.”

  “Sacrifice, huh?” Mr. Mertz crept toward her, his face flickering with an unreadable emotion.

  Beth eyed the door. She wouldn’t make it out safely before he caught her. She eased around the other side of his desk to ward off his advance.

  “Why won’t you leave me alone?” She gasped for breath, as though she was suffocating. “You haul me in here as if I’m some sort of criminal when I’ve always readily agreed to all of your orders, even when I felt uncomfortable.”

  Mr. Mertz drifted closer. “I’ll leave you alone when you start obeying my rules completely, not picking and choosing which ones you will follow, according to what suits you.”

  Beth clutched the edge of the desk. “If I quit, your rules will mean nothing!”