“Fine.”
“And just when everyone is thinking they know you, that they ‘get’ Evelyn Hugo, you play Jo. You knock everybody’s socks off. Now the audience is going to think to themselves, ‘I knew she was something special.’?”
“But why can’t I just do Little Women now? And they’ll think that now?”
Harry shook his head. “Because you have to give them time to invest in you. You have to give them time to get to know you.”
“You’re saying I should be predictable.”
“I’m saying you should be predictable and then do something unpredictable, and they’ll love you forever.”
I listened to him, thought about it. “You’re just feeding me a line,” I said.
Harry laughed. “Look, this is Ari’s plan. Like it or not. He wants you in a few more pictures before he’s gonna give you Little Women. But he is gonna give you Little Women.”
“All right,” I said. What choice did I have, really? My contract with Sunset was for another three years. If I caused too much trouble, they had an option to drop me at any time. They could loan me out, force me to take projects, put me on leave without pay, you name it. They could do anything they wanted. Sunset owned me.
“Your job now,” Harry said, “is to see if you can make a real go of it with Don. It’s in both of your best interests.”
I laughed. “Oh, now you want to talk about Don.”
Harry smiled. “I don’t want to sit here and listen to you talk about how dreamy he is. That’s boring. I want to know if the two of you might be ready to make it official.”
Don and I had been seen around town, our photos taken at every hot spot in Hollywood. Dinner at Dan Tana’s, lunch at the Vine Street Derby, tennis at the Beverly Hills Tennis Club. And we knew what we were doing, parading around in public.
I needed Don’s name mentioned in the same sentences as mine, and Don needed to look like he was a part of the New Hollywood. Photos of the two of us double-dating with other stars went a long way toward solidifying his image as a man-about-town.
But he and I never talked about any of that. Because we were genuinely happy to be around each other. The fact that it was helping our careers felt like a bonus.
The night of the premiere of his movie Big Trouble, Don picked me up wearing a slick dark suit and holding a Tiffany box.
“What’s this?” I asked him. I was wearing a black-and-purple floral Christian Dior.
“Open it,” Don said, smiling.
Inside was a giant platinum and diamond ring. It was braided on the sides with a square-cut jewel in the middle.
I gasped. “Are you . . .”
I knew it had been coming, if only because I knew Don wanted to sleep with me so bad it was nearly killing him. I’d been resisting him despite his very overt advances. But it was getting harder to do. The more we kissed in dark places, the more we found ourselves alone in the backs of limousines, the harder it was for me to push him away.
I’d never had that feeling before, physical yearning. I’d never felt what it is to ache to be touched—until Don. I would find myself next to him, desperate to feel his hands on my bare skin.
And I loved the idea of making love to someone. I’d had sex before, but it had never meant anything to me. I wanted to make love to Don. I loved him. And I wanted us to do it right.
And here it was. A marriage proposal.
I put my hand out to touch the ring, to make sure it was all real. Don shut the box before I could. “I’m not asking you to marry me,” he said.
“What?” I felt foolish. I’d allowed myself to dream too big. Here I was, Evelyn Herrera, parading around as if my name was Evelyn Hugo and I could marry a movie star.
“At least, not yet.”
I tried to hide my disappointment. “Have it your way, then,” I said, turning away from him to grab my clutch.
“Don’t be sour,” Don said.
“Who’s sour?” I said. We walked out of my apartment, and I shut the door behind me.