The Chelsea Girls

CHAPTER TWELVE

Hazel

July 1950

Floyd finally resurfaced—sort of—the next week. Hazel’s phone rang in her room at the Chelsea, where she was going through the script again, trying to figure out some clunky transitions in the second act. Her relief at hearing Floyd’s voice on the other end of the line was enormous.

“How are you? Where are you?”

Floyd’s voice was weaker than usual. “I’m fine. Listen, I have to take a step back from the production. They are asking lots of questions and I have to keep a low profile.”

“Who’s they? The FBI? What kind of questions?” She suddenly remembered that the phones were tapped. “No. Wait a minute, be careful what you say. Do you understand, Floyd?”

“I do.” She heard him swallow. “Let’s just say that I’m perfectly fine, but I’ll be unreachable for a few weeks. My assistant knows what needs to be done, you’re in good hands.”

“No, that’s unacceptable, Floyd. Why do you have to go into hiding?”

A pause. “Not hiding. Just unavailable. I’ll explain later, but for now, be careful yourself, okay? And be careful what you drink.”

“What?” What was he talking about?

“That drink, just be careful. Don’t pair it with tangerine. Very dangerous.”

Brandy.

He was saying that Brandy had turned him in.

Would Brandy have done something like that, just because she didn’t like the color of her costume? It seemed crazy. Yet just yesterday, Maxine and Brandy had gotten into an argument about the blocking. Previews for the show, which were open to audiences but not reviewers, would begin next week, and everyone was on edge. When Hazel intervened, Brandy spat out, “Of course you take Maxine’s side, she’s your friend.”

The way she said the word friend, emphasizing the double meaning, wasn’t lost on Hazel or on the rest of the cast. Even worse, Hazel had spied Charlie hovering in the wings, observing the exchange. Hazel, tired and irritable herself, had lit into Brandy. The girl had approached Hazel later for stepping out of line and apologized. Her words may have been warm, but her eyes didn’t convey a jot of remorse.

“Floyd, take care of yourself and let me know if there’s anything I can do. Maybe we can meet somewhere and catch up?” She hated to leave it like this, so open-ended.

“No. Don’t worry about me. Take care of yourself. And be careful.”

What a mess. This day off, which would be followed by another tomorrow for the Fourth of July, was endless. Hazel wanted nothing more than to get the show back in motion. The late-afternoon sun streamed through the windows of her room at the Chelsea. She had to get out.

She strode over to Maxine’s room to see what she was up to, but a strange sound made her pause before knocking.

“Maxine?” She rapped quietly. “Are you all right?”

Maxine opened the door a sliver. “I’m fine. Do you need me?”

“I’m not here as your director, silly. I heard from Floyd. He said he’s lying low, for now, and that we should be careful of Brandy. I think she’s the one who turned his name over to the FBI.”

Maxine drew her inside and cleared off some room on the settee. While Hazel’s rooms were neat and tidy, Maxine’s looked a lot like when she’d first arrived, with clothes strewn around and silk scarves hanging over lamps. Whether for mood lighting or because that’s simply where they landed, it was hard to tell.

“Brandy, huh?”

“Yes.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her. Can you fire her?”

Hazel shook her head. “Not without cause, without proof that she’s done something wrong. Otherwise we’re just like the other side. However much I’d like to.”

“The union would have something to say about it, no doubt,” added Maxine. “She wouldn’t go gently.”

For the first time, Hazel noticed that Maxine’s face was red and puffy. “Max, what’s going on with you?”

She was fairly certain she knew the answer. That man.

“Arthur. I know, I know. Messing around with a married man will break a girl’s heart.”

“What’s the latest?”

“I really am fine. I don’t want to bother you with this, especially now. I’ve been trying to keep it all out of the play so that it doesn’t affect anything that’s going on with us, with the show.”

“We’re friends first, remember? I’m sorry he’s making your life difficult.” She slung an arm around the back of the settee. “He hasn’t hurt you again, has he?”

“No. None of that. He promised it wouldn’t happen again. And it hasn’t.” Maxine delivered the words with a calm certainty.

“Then, what?” Hazel asked.

Maxine began laughing. “Don’t make fun of me, it’s so silly. Really.”

“What?”

“It’s my birthday.” The laughing turned to crying and back to laughing, which made Hazel join in, until the two of them were doubled over in a fit of giggles. Finally, Maxine grabbed a scarf off the nearby lamp and wiped her eyes. “I sound like a baby, like I’m some five-year-old who didn’t get a birthday cake.”

“Everyone deserves to be recognized on their birthday.” Hazel pulled her close. “Happy birthday.”

They hugged. “Thank you. I was hoping he’d call, but I haven’t heard anything yet.”

“Wait a minute, you were born on July third? That was Ben’s birthday.”

“It was?”

“Yes, he always said he wished it had been a day later, as then he could say all the fireworks were in his honor.” The memory made Hazel smile. The fact that he and Maxine shared birthdays brought her a strange bit of solace, as though he was right there with them.

“Well, happy birthday to him.” Maxine took Hazel’s hands in her own and kissed them. “In the meantime, how’s your shadow?”

“Charlie? He’s fine. Innocuous.”

“You really believe that?”

“Yes. I think he really likes being in a theater, he’s even started giving me notes.”

Maxine made a face. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I’m not. I mean, we have nothing to hide, so having someone looking over my shoulder doesn’t bother me a whit anymore. Not if it means we keep his father at bay.”

“Please don’t tell me you let down your guard with him.”

“Of course not. But, really, what is there to guard? I’m not doing anything illegal or wrong.”

Maxine’s mouth stayed in a tight line. “We both know that doesn’t matter much these days. He’s a good-looking guy, don’t let that get in the way of your scruples.”

“He’s not that good-looking.” Charlie’s nose was too large for his face, although his eyes were rather sweet, the irises brown like coffee. He was a bit scrawny for her taste, to boot. “Like you’re one to talk about scruples, seeing a married man.” Hazel punched her lightly in the shoulder.

“Listen to us.” Maxine threw up her hands. “The whole point of me being here at the hotel and working together is to keep all the nonsense away, and I’m wallowing in it.”

“You mean boy nonsense?”

“Yes. Boy nonsense.”

“Then let’s get out of here. No more wallowing. I’ll stop fixating on every detail of the play and driving myself mad, and you stop waiting around for a boy to call.”

“Where will we go?”

“Trust me on this. Put on a fancy dress and meet me in the lobby.”

Maxine looked like a new woman when she stepped out of the elevator, wearing a tightly cinched silk with a low-cut V-neck, where a pretty brooch drew all eyes to her cleavage. Hazel wore a dress from before the war, a navy blue chiffon that draped around her torso, offering the illusion of curves. Unfortunately, this wasn’t something you could fake. Next to Maxine, she looked like a frump.

Maxine looked her up and down. “That’s pretty, but we’re going to have to find you something smashing for the opening of your play.”

“If you could advise, I’d appreciate it. My wardrobe is in desperate need of an update, but I’ve been too busy writing to shop.”

In the cab, Hazel explained that Mr. Canby had given her two tickets to the opening of a new Broadway play that evening, some kind of silly musical revue on a patriotic theme. She hadn’t planned on attending, but figured it might be a fun lark for a birthday celebration. The crowd in front of the theater dazzled. Men in tuxedos escorted women in clingy dresses under the marquee as photographers’ flashbulbs popped furiously around them. Just before they stepped inside, Maxine was waylaid by a fan who insisted on getting her autograph.

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.”

The waiter poured the wine for Maxine and Hazel, but Arthur put his hand over his glass. “None for me, thank you.”

After the waiter stepped away, Arthur continued. His voice shook with emotion. “I was drinking then. My wife, you see, wasn’t doing very well. The doctors finally agreed that she should be put into a home.”

Maxine sat back, a stunned look on her face. He clearly hadn’t told her the news yet.

Hazel kept on. “What is wrong with her?”

“Her brain’s not right. She can no longer take care of herself, and I can’t ask her for a divorce. She isn’t competent to make that decision, and while it breaks my heart to not be able to be with Maxine as husband and wife, I must keep caring for Caroline. Even if she no longer recognizes me. Back in California, with Maxine, I was under terrible pressure. That’s no excuse, but it got out of control. I’ve promised her that will never happen again. I’m ashamed.”

The hurt and fear in his eyes seemed unforced, real. It was hard to imagine this man violently cutting Maxine’s hair off. Drink could do that to a person, Hazel knew. She’d seen plenty of baby-faced soldiers turn into snarling maniacs after a few drinks in Naples. But she wasn’t ready to let down her guard with him. Obviously, Maxine already had.

“What do you do, Arthur?”

“I’m in food packaging. Not very exciting, I know, compared to your professions. My hope is that I can be a stable force so that Maxine can lead the life of a movie star, knowing that I’m behind her all the way. Not that she needs anyone, I understand that now.”

He began asking questions about the show, and Maxine shared some silly gossip about finding the wardrobe mistress and a stagehand making out in the basement, which made them laugh. By the time the food came, the mood at the table had lightened ever so slightly.

“How long will you be in town, Arthur?” Hazel asked. “Are you planning on attending the opening?”

He looked at Maxine, and she nodded her approval. Hazel appreciated that he’d checked with her first. A promising sign. “I’d love to come. I’m flying back and forth from California a lot, but will make sure I’m here then.”

“Maxine says you met at a theater in Seattle?”

They looked at each other and laughed. Arthur spoke up. “I was taken by her the minute I laid eyes on her. But I didn’t get up any nerve to talk to her until I saw her in the box office, counting receipts.”

Maxine cut in. “I was counting the take from the performance under my breath, and he wandered over and started messing with me, saying random numbers out loud to mix me up. I couldn’t believe the gall.”

“I had to do something to catch her eye.”

“Oh, please, you had your pick of the girls. Everyone was in love with you.” Maxine leaned into him. “And a few weeks later he came and found me when I was at my lowest, and took care of me.”

“I bought you a milkshake, that’s all I did.”

“It meant the world.”

“And now I’ve asked her, begged her, to take me back. I’m off the sauce, and with Caroline settled, I’m a new man.”

In spite of her initial reluctance, Hazel found herself wondering if it wasn’t all right for Maxine to give this guy a second chance. It wasn’t as if Hazel was one to give advice on love, anyway. She’d cloistered herself from the very thought of romance for a long time now. First, her excuse was her focus on her career, or more specifically, what her mother wanted out of her career. No getting sidetracked. Then again, her girl-next-door looks tended to fade into the background in the theater circles she traveled in, where nearly everyone did their best to look fabulous and flashy. Like Maxine.

Later, as she focused on writing the play, she didn’t go out as much as she had before the war. Her day was filled with imaginary characters and scenes, as if a movie were playing out in her head side by side with the real world. She could be walking down the street to the drugstore, but in her mind two characters were holding a conversation in the scene she’d been working on earlier that morning. A couple of times, another resident from the hotel told her they’d said hello in passing but Hazel had seemed to be in a dream, a daze. She was. All of her energy went into her writing.

Only recently, as a director, had she interacted more with eligible men. But she could never let down her guard, not even a little. She had to claim her spot at the top of the hierarchy, to prove that she deserved the title of director and writer, and so refused to flirt or joke with any of the talent or creative team. One of Mr. Canby’s investors, early on, had placed his hand on the small of Hazel’s back and suggested they meet later, in his hotel room. She’d told him that under no circumstances would she ever do such a thing, and warned him against trying anything like that with her actresses. He’d straightened right up and never touched her again.

She had to work twice as hard to preserve her hard-won status and never let herself show vulnerability. The last time she’d been close—physically and emotionally—to a man was when Charlie had that fit up on the roof of the Chelsea Hotel. They’d looked at each other without filters; he’d been at risk and defenseless, and that had brought out a softer side of Hazel. But only for that moment. Ever since then, she’d stayed guarded whenever he was around, which was often.

He was the enemy, not to be trusted. She laughed at herself, picking the most inappropriate person to consider.

“What’s so funny?” Maxine looked like a fiery angel in the candlelight, the copper hues glowing around her white skin.

Hazel didn’t reply, just smiled and turned back to her meal.