The Heart of the Lion by Martin Turnbull

Author:Martin Turnbull
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Martin Turnbull

The breeze along Santa Monica Beach threatened to blow off Irving’s sailor cap. He caught it by the brim before it flew into the Pacific. “What’s with Marion’s obsession for costume parties?” he asked. “A tux would be better than this. Or better yet, a comfortable sweater.”

Norma adjusted the giant lavender bow pinned to the side of her head and hugged a teddy bear to protect her against the chill. “If you lived with William Randolph Hearst, you’d want some cheering up too.”

“But a kiddie theme? I feel ridiculous.”

“It’s a bit of fun, that’s all. I still think you should have gone with the little boy outfit.”

“And flash my knobby knees to everyone? No thanks.”

The final wisps of sunset faded on the horizon. Norma’s suggestion of walking along the beach to Marion’s New Year’s Eve party had sounded like a romantic idea, but now sand filled his shoes. The seaman recruit costume was handkerchief thin, which was fine under the broiling lights of a soundstage but furnished scant protection from a winter night.

Norma pulled his arm around her shoulder and snuggled in for warmth. Her frilly Victorian Girl outfit had short sleeves and stopped several inches above her own—decidedly more attractive—knees. “Everybody else will be dressed like children, so we’ll all be in the same boat.”

Irving grunted his reply.

“We could have stayed home,” she told him.

“On New Year’s Eve?”

“We never have a quiet evening together anymore.”

It wasn’t hard to miss the sting in her airily worded observation. Had Irving known what an Everestian project Grand Hotel would turn into, he might not have taken it on—at least, that’s what he had been telling himself in his darkest despair. But deep down he knew that tackling a problematic project like this was what lit the fire in him.

His recent demands for better compensation had been worth it in the long run: his salary package now matched his contribution to Metro’s success. But he felt compelled to show the big boys that he deserved it. He needed to come up with a wow of a movie, and Grand Hotel, he was convinced, would be that wow. Mayer hadn’t blinked when Irving had told him the projected budget would be three-quarters of a million dollars, which meant he agreed.

With Crawford as collateral, he’d pursued his ideal cast, and after hefty doses of sweet-talking flattery, they’d all signed on. Garbo had been apprehensive about playing a ballerina at twenty-seven until she learned that Edmund Goulding would be directing. He had directed her in Love and had figured out how to put her at ease.

They were now eleven days into production, and everything had been progressing according to Irving’s meticulously planned schedule—until yesterday. Despite her promise, Joan was still trysting with Gable. Paul Bern had met with Anita Loos at the Chateau Marmont Hotel bar to discuss Red-Headed Woman. Anita’s back had been to them, but Paul had spotted the pair in the foyer.

Irving had said yes to tonight’s New Year’s Eve party knowing that Marion had invited Joan and Clark.

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