Cowboy For Hire (31 page)

“I hope they serve mints or sprigs of parsley
or something after dinner,” Karen said with a laugh. “Otherwise,
we’ll drive everyone off the dance floor with our terrible
breath.”

Amy stared in consternation at her friend.
Karen noticed the expression on her face and laughed again. “It’s
all the onions and garlic and chili peppers they use in the food.
At least, that’s what all the Mexican food I’ve ever eaten has been
like.”

“Me, too,” agreed Martin.

“Yup,” said Charlie.

Terrific. Amy had always longed to smell like
a maiden in
Dracula
, strung with garlic to keep the vampires
away. And here she’d been hoping that Charlie might move his lips
up from her hand to her lips sometime during the evening.

Which shocked her. But she couldn’t forget
that kiss, and she’d really like to experience at least one more of
Charlie’s kisses before she had to give them up forever.

If
she had to give them up
forever.

Good gracious, there she went again, spinning
dreams out of cotton fluff and nothing else at all. She shook her
head hard, and could almost feel her fantastic fancies shatter and
fly away on the spicy air.

“But it’s probably going to be all right,”
Karen went on. “If that was the only kind of food they serve here,
we’ll all smell the same, so nobody can complain.” She case a
cheery glance around at her tablemates, and Amy took heart.

The conversation drifted, as was natural,
into the picture making business, for which Amy was extremely
thankful. She didn’t want to dwell any longer on her own
unfortunate past. Oddly enough—perhaps because of the garlic and
onions—the topic drifted to Bram Stoker’s book.

“I’m hoping Mr. Lovejoy will consider a
motion picture about vampires one of these days,” Martin said,
sipping beer since there was no wine to be had. “Vampires are huge
lately.”

“So’s the devil,” said Karen
nonchalantly.

Amy stared at the two of them. She’d never
heard of the devil and evil nonliving creatures being discussed so
casually. “Really?”

Karen laughed at her incredulity. “It’s the
truth. Nothing’s sacred any longer.”

“Now, that’s not true, Karen, and you know
it.” Martin looked about as severe as a man with a beer stein in
his hand can look. And he launched into an energetic speech about
the wonders of the motion picture industry, how uplifting it was,
and how it was going to break down barriers between cultures. Amy
listened, greatly entertained.

Only Charlie, she noticed with interest,
didn’t appear to get caught up in Martin’s enthusiasm. He kept
sneaking peeks at Amy, and she kept feeling them, and wondering
what he was thinking.

She hoped to heaven he wasn’t contemplating
the horrible story she’d told him about her life in Alaska. Again
she wished she’d kept her mouth shut. If there was one response she
didn’t care to generate in Charlie Fox, she realized with some
surprise, it was pity. She could think of lots and lots of other
emotions she’d like to inspire within him. Pity wasn’t one of
them.

Bother. This was becoming so complicated.

Fifteen

The dance floor was crowded, and the happy
strains of “The Maple Leaf Rag” had everybody bouncing. Evidently,
the entire city of El Monte, California, plus the folks from the
surrounding countryside had turned out to gawk at the movie crew at
the Royal El Montean. They were a friendly lot, too. Charlie liked
them. He appreciated hospitality; it reminded him of home.

The entire crowd seemed eager to have fun,
too. Charlie grinned when the band struck up “IN the Good Old
Summertime”, and the dancers broke into song. The cast and crew of
One and Only
, not intending to be left out of the
festivities, joined in.

That is to say, all of the cast and crew
except Horace Huxtable, who huddled at a table in the back of the
room, a shot glass in hand and a bottle in front of him, glowering
as if there wasn’t anything in the world that could possibly please
him. Gus, Sam and Eddie sat so close they were almost in his lap.
Charlie was pleased to see that the three bodyguards were taking
their jobs seriously. Not that Huxtable’s body needed guarding. It
was the rest of the world that needed protection from him.

The notion of somebody preferring to sit and
drink rather than dance and laugh and have a good time depressed
Charlie, and he shook off the mood with a shrug. To hell with
Horace Huxtable. Tonight, if his luck was good, Charlie was going
to reel in the girl of his dreams.

From “In the Good Old Summertime,” the band
rolled right into “Ida, Sweet as Apple Cider.” The musicians were
pretty good, and very loud, and Amy was a wonderful dancer. Charlie
liked to dance, too, and they ended up dancing most of the numbers
together.

“Oh, my, I can’t remember when I’ve had so
much fun,” Amy gasped at one point, out of breath and shimmering
with joy and perspiration.

She looked like a pearl to Charlie;
immeasurably lovely, graceful, delicate, and priceless. She took to
ragtime as if she’d been born to it, which he thought was very
interesting. Adding this tidbit to the information he’d already
gleaned about her, he deduced that she’d built up a wall of
stuffiness and propriety around her on purpose, sort of like a
protective layer. He could understand that, given her past.

His own life had been completely
unremarkable. A loving mother and father, a big family full of
aunts and uncles and brothers and sisters, lots of friends, and the
wide-open, beautiful spaces of Arizona Territory. He recalled most
of his childhood with humor and happiness. He couldn’t even imagine
what dainty little Amy Wilkes must have gone through when she was
no bigger than a mite.

Hell, she was no bigger than a mite right
now.

She sure was happy tonight. Charlie could
hardly leave off staring at her as she danced around the floor with
Martin to the music of “Hello, Ma Baby.” It was a pleasure to watch
her relax, and have a good time with friends. When he first met
her, he’d never have expected that this delightful, funny,
good-humored girl lurked under all that stiffness.

The music ended. Martin took Amy’s arm and
walked her over to Charlie. Charlie appreciated the gesture, since
it meant that Martin, at least, had Charlie and Amy paired up as a
couple in his own mind.

Since he was feeling magnanimous, Charlie
remarked, “You two look good dancing together.”

Amy reached for the little fan dangling from
her wide black belt—Charlie had heard Karen refer to it as a
cummerbund—and fanned herself vigorously. “Oh, it’s so much
fun!”

“I think the nightclub is about to close,”
Martin panted, mopping his forehead with a handkerchief that looked
much nicer than any of the raggedy old bandannas Charlie owned.
He’d have to improve his wardrobe once he got Amy to consent to be
his wife.

“Oh, do you think so?” Amy cried,
disappointed. “I hope they play another couple of dances first.
Although,” she added with a laugh, “my feet are so sore I wouldn’t
be surprised if they fell off.”

Martin laughed too. “We can’t have that.”

“No, sir.” Charlie looked down at where Amy’s
feet would be if he could see them, and wished he could take them
in his big hands and rub them and then sprinkle sweet-smelling
talcum on them, like his mama used to do to him when he’d run
himself ragged as a boy.

Karen, who had been dancing with Benjamin
Egan, a very handsome member of the studio’s set-construction crew,
gasped, “I’ll run and ask them to keep playing for a while. I want
them to do ‘Frankie and Johnny.’”

Still fanning herself, Amy opened her eyes at
that. “Mercy! Can you dance to ‘Frankie and Johnny’?”

“
I
can dance to anything!” Karen
declared, and dashed off to talk to the bandleader.

Martin chuckled. “I think Miss Crenshaw
failed to attach herself to any of Dr. Freud’s famous
inhibitions.”

Amy laughed.

Benjamin Egan, staring after Karen with overt
appreciation, said, “By God, isn’t that the truth!”

This time Charlie, sensing the same longing
in Benjamin for Karen as he himself felt for Amy, laughed. Before
Karen returned, the bandleader had directed his musicians through
the first few bars of “Frankie and Johnny.” Karen grabbed Benjamin,
and the two of them folded into the crowd of dancers on the floor.
Amy, Charlie and Martin watched them go, smiling.

“Care to tangle with this one, Amy?” Charlie
wondered if he looked as much like a moonstruck calf as he feared
he did.

“Oh, there’s Magnus. I have to talk to him.”
Martin took off after his chief cameraman.

“Poor Martin,” Amy said, her fan losing some
steam. “He seems to work all the time.”

“Yup. He seems to enjoy it, though.”

Amy nodded. Then she tilted her head back and
peered up at Charlie as if she were trying to memorize his face. He
wanted to tell her there was no need to do that; all she had to do
was marry him, and she would see his face every day of her life. He
lifted an eyebrow to prompt her to answer his question.

“You know,” Amy said slowly, “I’ve had so
much fun tonight, and I’ve never danced so much, but I’m hot and
tired, and my feet are sore, and I’d really like to go outside for
a minute or two. Would you mind that?”

Would he
mind
? Ha! Charlie said,
“Wouldn’t mind at all,” and applauded himself as a master of
understatement. “I’ll get your wrap.”

“Thank you.”

Her smile was so warm and lovely and sparkled
with the promise of so much untapped passion that Charlie very
nearly forgot himself and swept her up off the floor and absconded
with her. Fortunately for Amy—and himself—he controlled his
uncivilized craving and only turned and headed for the cloak rack.
He’d heard that big-city restaurants actually had special rooms to
store coats and hats in, and special attendants to mind the rooms.
He supposed a fellow would have to pay for that service, and spared
a moment to be glad they were in the wilds of El Monte. Although he
was far from stingy, Charlie was careful with his money.

During the course of the evening, folks had
piled lots of coats and wraps and things on top of Amy’s shawl, and
it took him a minute to find it. When he returned to where he’d
left her, he was horrified to discover her face to face with Horace
Huxtable. Her face was bright pink. Huxtable’s was sort of a
washed-out ivory. Charlie ran the last few paces.

“Where are Gus and Sam and Eddie?” were the
first words out of his mouth.

Amy turned at the sound of his voice, and the
look of anger on her countenance instantly transformed into one of
relief. “I don’t know. Evidently, Mr. Huxtable managed to shake
them off. I told Martin to use chains, but he wouldn’t do it.”

“You damned bitch!” Huxtable slurred,
wobbling slightly. “You think you’re so grand. Well, you’re
not!”

“Oh, go away, Huxtable,” Charlie muttered,
helping Amy don her shawl. He didn’t want any trouble in the Royal
El Montean. Dammit, where were Huxtable’s keepers? The music went
on as if nothing untoward was happening, which he supposed was a
good thing.

Charlie noticed that Amy’s lips were pinched
tightly together, as if she were having a hard time keeping some
mighty hot words inside. He felt for her. He’d like to sock
Huxtable in his filthy mouth, but he was holding himself back, just
as she was.

“You think you’re so great. Well, you’re not.
I’m
the star!
I’m
the one who will draw the crowds to
see this picture. Not you.”

“I’m sure you’re absolutely correct,” Amy
said tightly.

She held her arm out for Charlie, and he took
it and placed her hand firmly on his arm. He nodded at Huxtable.
“You’re the star, all right. We’re a couple of nobodies.”

Huxtable, apparently not having anticipated
such complete agreement from two formerly obstreperous co-workers,
blinked a couple of times and took a staggering step backwards.
“Hunh,” he said.

Spying Huxtable’s bodyguards hurrying up to
the star from behind, Charlie said, “Right,” and left it at that.
He and May began to walk away. The music was too loud for him to
sure that Amy giggled, but he thought she did.

The night air, which hadn’t felt cold when
they’d arrived at the Royal El Montean several hours earlier, hit
them like an Arctic blast when Charlie opened the door for Amy. It
felt good to him—fresh and clean after the stuffiness of the dance
floor.

Amy pulled her shawl more tightly around her
shoulders. “My goodness, I didn’t realize it was so brisk
outside.”

“I don’t think it’s so much brisk as it is
we’re warm from being indoors and dancing,” Charlie said, inhaling
a lungful of fresh air. It smelled good—like Arizona.

“I’m sure you’re right. It’s actually quite
refreshing.” Amy’s voice carried a happy overtone that Charlie was
glad to hear. “Oh, look up there.”

She must have forgotten her manners for a
second, because she pointed at the sky. Although it was difficult
for him, Charlie managed to drag his attention away from her and
focus on the moon and stars. They really were pretty. The moon was
almost full, and the stars were twinkling around it like a bunch of
excited fireflies. “The sky’s beautiful,” he said, knowing the word
to be inadequate. At the moment, though, all of his appreciation
was entangled with the slight woman beside him. He didn’t have much
eloquence left over to spend on the scenery.

She hugged herself. Charlie wished she’d let
him do that for her. “I just love seeing all the stars and the moon
like this, out in the open. As much as I love Pasadena, the stars
get tangled up in the orange trees sometimes. The vista’s much
vaster out here on the desert.”

“Orange trees are nice,” Charlie muttered,
since he couldn’t think of anything more intelligent to say.