Part V: Snakes – Paulie Quest #2 (Chapter 93)

 

The next day, wearing the same outfit, I head for Grauman’s Chinese Theater.

There, I gaze at the celebrity hand and footprints in concrete. I’m standing over Myrna Loy, when a man comes up to me with a Polaroid.

“May I take your photo?”

Flattered, I say, “Sure!”

I pose, and he snaps the button.

When the photo rolls out, I say, “Lemme see!”

The man slips the photo into a yellow folder with red etchings of the theater and swipes it away. “It’ll cost you a buck.”

Oh, I get it. Well, I’m not playing.

“You can keep it, Mister.”

Behind me, a velvety voice with a slight accent: “Now is that any way to treat a beautiful young woman?”

I turn around to see the most handsome man I have ever seen: Large brown eyes and a mop of black curly hair, heart-shaped face, lush red lips. Tall and slim. In tight jeans and a leather jacket.

Deliciously dangerous.

Handsome man hands a dollar to the photographer, who tosses the photo to him.

Handsome Man hands me the photo. “For you, young lady.”

I take the photo and look at it. “Thank you, sir.”

It’s not very good, hardly worth the dollar. My legs and arms look fat, I have a pot belly, and my purse hangs from my hand, dragging to the ground.

“These guys hang around, looking for tourists to scalp. You a tourist?”

I laugh. “No. My Mom lives in Canoga Park. I’m just visiting my aunt. She lives up the street.”

“I just moved here,” Handsome Man says. “I have an opening next week.”

“Opening?”

“A one-man show.” He mentions the name of a gallery, but I don’t catch it. “I’m an artist.”

“Cool!” I say. “I painted all through high school.”

“Well, then. We have something in common. I’m Paulie Quest, by the way.”

“Samantha Mallory.”

“Pleased to meet you!”

I shake his hand. I look down at Myrna Loy’s square. “To Sid, who gave me my first job.”

Did Sid Grauman stop her in the street, hand a card to her, and invite her to a Hollywood party at a haunted hotel?

We walk a bit around Grauman’s, commenting on the squares bearing the hand and footprints of the rich and famous: Marilyn Monroe, Mary Pickford, John Wayne, Sidney Poitier, and others.

We talk about art; his knowledge of the subject is esoteric and way beyond my scope – later I would understand the various schools, but, for now, I’m just enjoying the view that this gorgeous man presents.

“I started painting when I was three,” he says. “I’ve never stopped.”

When he asks my age, I say 18, even though it’s a lie.

As Emily says, “Tell all the truth but tell it slant.” Besides, I’m almost 18, so it’s just a little lie.

He’s 25, probably too old for me, but who cares? I don’t want this day to end.

But end it must.

“Look,” he says. “I have an appointment with my agent, so I have to run. May I give you a ride home?”

Disappointed, I tell him that Auntie lives close by.

“Well, then. I’ll walk you there.”

As I lead the way to Auntie’s, we walk in silence.

Why do we have to end before we have barely begun?

As if he reads my mind, he says, “You know, I’m free tonight…”

“So am I!” I jump in.

“Beautiful! We’ll continue our conversation then.”

Then I remember Rocky Paris.

“Auntie won’t allow it unless she meets you first,” I say. “Can you spare a few minutes?”

Paulie glances at his watch. “Sure. I’m really good with parents and aunties.”

Even so, after yesterday’s encounter, she may be wary. “Maybe you can say we already know each other…”

“That we ran into each other on the street…”

“Yeah…”

“It’s a plan.”

 *

Auntie is totally besotted by Paulie Quest.

Paulie’s innate charm works perfectly; Auntie stumbles all over herself trying to impress him.

We don’t have to lie; she never asks how we know each other.

Later, she will tell me that if she were 50 years younger, she’d give me a run for my money.

I believe her. I have seen her photos as a young woman – she was more beautiful than any movie star I have ever seen. In many ways, she still is.

Paulie will pick me up at 7:30.

“Wear something lovely,” he says.

I know just the dress: the brown sleeveless voile with asymmetric hemline, ranging from mini (left side) to midi (right side) – perfect complement to my red hair.

Silver lamè flats.

I’ll borrow some of Auntie’s jewelry, a turquoise and coral necklace and bracelet to offset the muted brown voile.

I spend the rest of the day trying to tame my wild hair.