Page 39 of The Vaudeville Star

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She looked down at their hands entwined and remembered his hands on her body and his body over hers. She had to tear her thoughts away from that night when she had given him everything.

“No, I don’t. You’re right,” she agreed.

10

King poured out two large whiskeys and handed one to Ford.

“Thank you, Rutledge. For handling that business with Harry. Damned nuisance!”

“It was easily taken care of,” Ford returned.

Both men sipped their drinks, and Ford waited. King had sent a note through the agency that he wished to see him.

“I’m certain one day Harry is going to get himself into a mess that I won’t be able to bail him out of. But such is life,” King said, taking the large chair behind the desk and gesturing to the seat in front of it.

Ford took the seat facing King, though his mind was still on Ruby. She had seemed jarred by the conversation with King’s mother, and it worried him. He liked King well enough. His work with him had been pretty standard, and he seemed decent enough. But King liked the ladies, and once he set his sights on one, he chased her until he bedded her. They didn’t last long, as he was Catholic and divorce was out of the question.

Lourdes was his longtime mistress, and so the new women he kept for only a few months and then sent them on their way. He usually never dabbled with innocent young women; rather, married society women were more his standard. Either way, he would never allow King to treat Ruby as a plaything to be used and discarded. He cared too much for her, he thought in a flash of possessive jealousy.

“You know about this tour I’m financing,” King said, waving his hand about.

“Yes. You mentioned it to me.”

“I think the young singer Ruby will be a great star. She has the talent and the looks. By God, she is a looker.”

Ford feigned indifference. He didn’t want King to know about their past. Information was power, and Ford wanted it kept secret.

“She doesn’t know it yet. But after we tour London and Paris, I want to build an entire show around her in New York. The finest show ever with costumes and scenery. It will be grand!” King said excitedly.

“Is she your mistress?” Ford asked, dreading the answer. He thought he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from King’s own lips.

“Not at all! She’s innocent. She even rebuked me. Because I’m married.” He smiled, and Ford did as well.

“No. I’m an admirer and nothing more. I want her to rise through the ranks and be a great star!”

Ford wondered at King’s motives. He was spending much and receiving little. Even if he received a percentage of the ticket sales, that would be mere pocket change to a man like King.

“So how can I help?” Ford said, placing the empty glass beside him.

“I’ve decided to travel with the show to London, and I want you to come with me.”

Ford looked up. “Why?”

King shrugged. “I’d feel safer. Not so much a bodyguard, but you can keep an eye on things. Keep an eye on Ruby. Make certain no young man catches her eye.”

Ford bristled at the assignment, but he said nothing. Normally, with anyone else, he might have turned the job down flat. But he wanted to be near Ruby. He wanted to keep an eye on her for no other reason than to keep her away from King.

“All right.” Ford nodded.

Ford thought about that night in Connecticut, as he had done so many times. He had handled the aftermath all wrong, but that night with her had been so right. He remembered in perfect detail her soft skin and delicate body. At night, when he was alone, she was always with him in his memory.

“I’ll make the arrangements and inform the agency. Your expenses will be paid, of course. Your ship’s passage and hotel,” King confirmed.

“Very well.”

“And if anyone should ask, you can say you are my business associate.”

When Ford returned to his lodgings, he placed his coat and hat aside and went to the small bar he kept and poured himself a bourbon. He would do as King wished and gladly. He wanted to keep an eye on Ruby for his own sake and her safety. He would have her best interests in mind, even if King didn’t.


Tags: Nicola Italia Historical