The Chelsea Girls(48)

Maxine scribbled her name on his program and handed it back, but even then he refused to let her go, gripping her arm to keep her in place as he whispered into her ear.

What a creep. Hazel broke between them, making excuses. “I can’t let you out of my sight,” she murmured to Maxine as they walked down the aisle.

“I’m popular, what can I say?” Maxine looked back, distracted.

They were shown to their seats, only a few rows from the stage, a reflection of Canby’s standing in the theater community.

Maxine looked at her watch. “They’re running late.”

“They always do for openings. Gets everybody worked into a tizzy by the time the curtain goes up.”

The show was just as Hazel expected, light entertainment, a crowd pleaser. At the intermission, Maxine took off like a shot—“Gotta beat the crowd to the ladies’ room”—while Hazel stayed put, chatting up the managers, press agents, and columnists who approached, inquiring how her play was going. Only one mentioned her listing in Red Channels, whispering in her ear to “stay strong.” The fact that he didn’t dare say it out loud was worrying.

She turned around, hoping to see Maxine’s red wig bobbing back down the aisle. She was probably being mobbed out there in the lobby. Hazel shouldn’t have let her go alone.

The chimes for the second act sounded, but still Maxine didn’t appear. Hazel was about to bolt out of her seat to check on her, when the lights dimmed. She was trapped, unless she wanted to make some kind of scene.

Finally, after another hour and a half of Yankee Doodle Dandy, the cast came out to take their bows. Hazel took the opportunity to slip out.

She found Maxine in the alleyway tucked into one side of the theater, smoking.

“What on earth? I was worried about you.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t get back in. I didn’t want to cause a fuss.”

“Let’s hope the newspapers don’t mention that you walked out. It makes us look bad, like we’re above everyone else.”

“I didn’t walk out, I just missed the bell.”

“Why?”

Maxine stayed silent, and finally Hazel realized the missing piece of the puzzle.

“Arthur, right? Did he follow us here?”

Maxine threw the cigarette down and stomped on it, hard. “He did.”

“Between Charlie Butterfield and your beau, we can’t get a break. What did he say to you?”

“The usual. Listen, I’ve got to go.”

Hazel could feel her friend slipping away, drawn back to this awful man. She didn’t bother hiding her disappointment. “After everything we talked about, you’re meeting up with Arthur tonight?”

“Please, Hazel, it’s my birthday. Let me have this.”

Maxine’s gaze darted over Hazel’s shoulder, across the street. Hazel whirled around. A tall man in a dark suit quickly looked away.

“Is that him?” She turned back to Maxine and gestured with her thumb over one shoulder. “That your darling Arthur?”

Maxine nodded.

“I want to meet him.”

“No. That’s not a good idea. I don’t want to get you involved.”

“I’m your director. And your friend. I’m already involved in everything you do. Let’s go.”

Hazel marched up to Arthur and stuck out her hand.

“I’m Hazel Ripley, a friend of Maxine’s,” she said.

He shook her hand carefully, as if he were afraid she was going to punch him. Which she really wanted to do, to be perfectly honest. How dare he torture her friend this way? Arthur glanced briefly over Hazel’s shoulder at Maxine, but Hazel couldn’t get a sense of the message behind it, warning or worry.

“I’m Arthur Tunney.” He didn’t smile, his face a neutral mask. “It’s a pleasure. I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you. What do you say we go out to dinner, and celebrate Maxine’s birthday?”

He looked to be in his mid-thirties, the lines whispering out from his eyes barely noticeable. And those eyes. Baby blue, with thick black eyelashes, a contrast that softened the sharp angles of his face. A face made for the movies. She could see why Maxine was having a hard time getting over him.

Hazel checked in with Maxine, who nodded. “That sounds like a good idea.”

He took Maxine’s arm and they walked to a nearby bistro, taking a table near the back. Hazel took off her gloves and perused the menu, and when the waiter came over, they all ordered the coq au vin special, with Arthur requesting a bottle of Chianti for the table.

“Maxine tells me the play’s ready for opening day.” Arthur straightened his cutlery.

“We hope so. It’ll be here soon enough.” Hazel couldn’t stand the tension, or the small talk. “Why are you going after Maxine after she asked you to back off?”

He looked up at her, shocked. “To back off?” he repeated.

“Hazel, really, let’s not get into this now.” Maxine laid a hand on the table.

Hazel ignored her. “I am worried about your effect on my leading lady, Mr. Tunney.”

“Please, call me Arthur.” He cleared his throat. “It’s been a mess. I admit that, and I’ve asked for her forgiveness and although you and I don’t know each other and we’ve only just met, I will ask for yours as well. I behaved badly. Very badly.”