The Chelsea Girls(72)

Hazel was safe, that was my main concern. Whatever awfulness she’d gone through, I wouldn’t be adding to her woes any further. Not as long as she and Charlie stayed apart.

I took a deep breath, spoke in a soothing tone. “I’m so sorry. That must be difficult. But I think you did the right thing.”

“I thought I’d be enough for him to let his family’s legacy go. For the sake of us.”

“He’s a guy with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove to the world. To his father. You wait, you’ll meet someone smart and lovely and see Charlie for what he really is.”

“What’s that?”

“A boy. He’s not a man. You deserve a man. We both do.”

She considered that for a moment. I worried I was being too pushy.

“I think you’re right. Thank you, Max.” She reached out and put her hand over mine. “I don’t know what I would have done without you, through all this.”

Guilt tugged at me, hard. I ought to confess everything, get it all out. But I could already imagine how her features would rearrange themselves, grow hard and cold, and then my best friend would be lost to me forever.

The roof door opened and Lavinia appeared, holding an empty wine bottle in one hand and a glass in the other. Her hair, normally up in a bun at the nape of her neck, hung in loose strands down her back, and the colorful caftan she wore had slipped to one side, revealing a bare, bony shoulder.

“Girls, my girls.” She settled into one of the chairs and poured the last few drops of wine from the bottle into her glass. “Don’t worry, I’ve sent one of the porters out to the liquor store. The perks of hotel living.”

“Lavinia, are you drunk?” asked Hazel.

“I’m smashed to pieces, my dear. Don’t mind me.” She sat back in her chair, looking up at the sky. “What a view. I’ll never get tired of this view.”

Hazel and I exchanged looks.

“Oh, before I forget, Maxine, the switchboard operator said to make sure you got this.” She pulled a folded piece of pink paper out of her pocket and handed it to me.

As I read it, my mouth dropped open. My agent had called. I’d been offered the role, my first as a leading lady. His message said that he’d already booked me a flight to Los Angeles for Wednesday. I wondered how this was possible, with my listing in Red Channels. Maybe my single “offense” hadn’t been enough to raise the alarm.

“What’s the news?” asked Hazel.

Lavinia spoke up before I could answer. “I’m nosy, I read it on the way up. She’s been offered the lead in a movie with James Mason.”

I didn’t deserve this. Hazel was having what was probably, after her brother’s death, one of the worst weeks of her life. Yet here I was on the rise, being handed a career opportunity most actresses would die for.

“How thrilling,” exclaimed Hazel, though her excitement didn’t reach her eyes. “Tell us all about it.”

I tried to play it down. “I don’t know much yet, to be honest. Haven’t even read the script.”

“It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance, one that may set you up as a huge Hollywood star,” Lavinia declared. “You deserve it.”

“Not after blowing opening night.”

“Stop with that,” said Hazel. “You got the part because of the play, right? I remember you mentioned something about the meeting last week.”

I admitted that the director had seen one of our early previews, when the play had been at its peak and the audience reaction unsullied by negative notices, and had gushed breathlessly to me afterward. The fact that he’d still offered the part to me despite the bad reviews showed an unusual amount of courage, by Hollywood standards. If only I’d found out two days earlier.

“Then you deserve it. You deserve this success.” She nodded emphatically, almost as if she was convincing herself. I knew Hazel well enough to know that underneath her kind words, she was putting on a brave face and had to feel frustrated or even resentful. She hid it well.

I didn’t deserve this grand opportunity. I’d betrayed my best friend. Even worse, I’d tanked the play, which, after all that, hadn’t even been necessary.

“At least one of us will make it into the big time. In spite of all this blacklisting craziness.” Lavinia was watching me closely.

“What about your television role, Lavinia?” asked Hazel. “You could be a household name soon enough. Think of all those people who’ll be watching you week after week.”

“They’ve rescinded the offer.”

“What? Why?” Even in the fading dusk, I could see that Hazel had gone pale.

“I’ve been blacklisted.”

“When did this happen?”

“This week. At least they got my entry right. I was a card-carrying member of the Communist Party until 1939. A proud member, I’ll have you know. Got out when the Soviets made a pact with the Nazis, an alliance I could not abide.”

The same year I first questioned the cause myself. Arthur had pointed out to me that the Soviet Union had no choice in the matter, and if they didn’t sign, Hitler would attack anyway. He said we had to keep our mother country alive at all costs and the alliance was merely for show. I believed him.

Lavinia gave me a crooked smile. “So you see, you’re the last one standing, as the rest of us drop like flies. It’s all on your shoulders.”