CHAPTER FIVE
The ride to dinner was a quiet affair, but Oren had expected it to be. He and Tillie were business partners now. Any chance they may have had at maintaining a friendship during these shenanigans had likely been lost when he bolted from last night’s party with barely a parting glance.
Then again, Oren didn’t want to be friends with Tillie. He wanted more. That’s why he’d suggested this damned scheme.
Tillie lived so far from the fashionable part of New York it felt as if they’d been riding in the back of the Studebaker for weeks. Every so often he’d hear her delicate intake of breath and he’d hope she was about to say something, but she never did.
Dinner had been far more pleasant. Chester Richardson, the composer, brought along two studio executives. Tillie played her part well. She smiled at Oren adoringly as he talked, touched her fingertips to his arms when she laughed at his jokes, and ate off his fork when he offered her a piece of his carrot cake.
“So, tell me, Tillie.” Chester adjusted his black-framed glasses as he sat back in his chair. “How did a nice girl like you end up with an old Hollywood cat like Oren?”
“It’s a simple story, actually.” She brought a hand to his shoulder. “Our families live around the corner from each other. Oren was one of my brother’s boyhood friends.”
“You don’t say.” Chester knocked back a swallow of scotch before gesturing toward them with the nearly empty glass. “And then you reconnected here in New York?”
“Yes.” Tillie smiled sadly. She dropped her hand from his shoulder and listlessly trailed her fingers down his arm. “I’m going to miss the ol’ boy terribly when he goes back to Hollywood.”
Oren’s nerve endings sparked in reaction to the fleeting physicality of her affection. A thin layer of sweat had cropped up along his hairline. He’d been resisting the urge to wipe it away all evening. Casual business dinners didn’t make men like Oren Cooper sweat. Ordinarily, he exuded an air of cool confidence and acted as if the execs would do whatever he wanted.
“You won’t go with him?” One of them asked.
Tillie tucked a lock of shiny blonde hair behind her ear. “My career is important to me, and I want to make it to Hollywood on my own merit.”
“That’s admirable.” He nodded at her reverently. “I hope you find success, Miss Parker. I would love to work on a soundtrack with you someday.”
Tillie lifted her glass, which was still half-full of fizzled-out champagne. “I would like that very much.”
Their glasses clinked, and everyone took a hearty drink. Everyone except Tillie, who merely sipped at her warm champagne. Oren admired her ability to stay in control. At dinners like these, he would rather get lost in a gin-soaked haze than deal with it straight.
But he could see the fun in it for Tillie. She pretended to be the doting girlfriend in hopes she’d win something at the end—whether it be the lead female role in Me and Juliet or better name recognition on Broadway for future auditions. In a way, the whole affair was an extended audition. And so far, Tillie was doing quite well.
“How about you, Cooper?” Chester pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and smacked them against the heel of his hand. “Are you looking forward to getting back to the sunshine?”
“I suppose I am.” He draped an arm over the back of Tillie’s chair, unprepared for her to lean into him. The crotch of his pants instantly tightened at her closeness. He wouldn’t be able to go on with this charade for long without their public affections turning into ones better suited for the bedroom. “I’ll miss my girl, though. That’s for sure.”
He ruffled her hair, hoping the gesture would help diffuse the heat building inside him. Tillie looked up at him with a playful look of annoyance, her bottom lip protruding as she patted down her bob. She looked so damn cute, so utterly frisky, he nearly kissed her.
But then, he gathered his wits about himself and thought better of it.
“That’s okay.” Chester puffed on his cigarette, enveloping them in a cloud of passing smoke. “She’ll give you a reason to come back to the city. How long had it been?”
“Nearly a decade.”
Chester let out a low whistle. “That’s a mighty long time.”
“Sure is.”
Oren thought of the family across the river he’d visited only twice since his return and silently vowed to make it over to see them again soon. Tillie must have felt his body stiffen, because she patted him reassuringly on the leg.
Once the bill was paid and the party had made their way out to the sidewalk, Chester turned to Oren. “We’re heading out for a nightcap if you’d like to join us.”
“I would love to but—”
“No, go ahead,” Tillie interrupted him. “Have fun. I’m exhausted, and I need my beauty sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Oren held up a finger before leading Tillie down the sidewalk.
“You’re sure you don’t want to come?” he asked, stopping just before the corner.
“I have the breakfast shift tomorrow.” Tillie yawned into her palm. “All these early mornings and late nights are going to be the death of me.”
Oren pressed his lips to her forehead. He lingered there longer than he intended, assuming Tillie would think it was all a part of the act.
“Take the car. I’ll ride with Chester.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.” Oren tipped his head toward the others. “What would they think if I let you hail a taxi?”
Tillie’s expression fell momentarily. A glance back toward their dinner companions relit her smile. “Yes. Of course. I’ll see you then.”
Oren’s heart skipped a few beats when he realized Tillie had wanted the offer to be genuine. Why did he have to go and say something so stupid? He would have made her take the car, even if no one was there to bear witness. If only he didn’t have to keep reminding himself that it was all pretend, maybe then he would have considered her feelings, too.
She started toward the car and he followed to open the door. Tillie slid inside, keeping her gaze trained on the headrest on the seat in front of her.
Oren poked his head inside. “I’ll call you tomorrow. We’ll have a drink before the show.”
“Okay.”
He paused, for what he didn’t know, then shut the door.
***
Unable to sleep, Tillie lay on her stomach and flipped through an old craft book. She brought a lot of her textbooks out to New York with her, turning to them for advice and inspiration as needed. Unfortunately, they weren’t helping in her current situation. Sure, she’d found a chapter on how to act like you’re in love but there wasn’t anything there written about how to stop yourself from letting fiction blend into reality.
With a sigh, Tillie slammed the cover shut and rolled onto her back. Falling in love with Oren had been inevitable. Now that she’d seen him and spent time with him—and, more importantly, sang with him—she realized she’d been in love with him all long.
The phone rang from the living room, but Tillie ignored it. Arlene had a sister in Arizona who sometimes called after midnight. Knowing she should at least try to get some sleep, Tillie got up and placed her book on the shelf with all the others. She ran her fingers along the spines, looking for one to leave on her nightstand in case sleep didn’t come easy.
A knock sounded on her door and she pulled her hand away like she’d been electrocuted.
She linked her fingers behind her back. “Come in.”
The door cracked open and Arlene poked her head in. “You have a call.”
Judging from Arlene’s wide grin and gleaming eyes, Tillie had a feeling she knew who was calling. No one else she knew would ever dare call the apartment this late, unless there was an emergency.
“Who is it?”
Arlene bounced on her toes. “Oren Cooper.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks and squealed. “At least, I think it is. When I asked who was calling, he said his name was Oren but he didn’t give a last name. You don’t know any other Orens, do you? Oh, dear, this is so exciting. Listen to me. I’m rambling. You should come get the phone before Oren hangs up or thinks I’m daft for not handing the phone over. I can’t believe he’s calling here.”
Tillie smiled for her friend’s benefit. She, too, was glad Oren called, but she wasn’t sure what to make of it. Why call her tonight after they’d just seen each other? He’d made the nature of their relationship clear when he insisted on letting her use the car only so the MGM execs wouldn’t think it odd she got in a cab.
“Thank you for answering.” Tillie started toward the door. “I know it’s late.”
“Oh, I don’t mind. Truly. Now that I know Oren Cooper might call the apartment, you can bet I’ll dive for the phone every time it rings.” Arlene grabbed Tillie’s hand. “Can you introduce Norma and me to him some time?”
Tillie pressed her lips together. She hadn’t told Arlene and Norma about her arrangement with Oren, though she might have to. If everything went according to plan, word of their relationship would reach even the smallest of players on Broadway, including her roommates. But, if she were to tell them, she wasn’t sure which version of the story to give.
“Sure,” Tillie said, thinking it the safest answer.
Arlene beamed. “I’m going to tell Norma. She’s going to flip.” With that she disappeared around the corner, her slippered feet padding on the carpet in quick succession.
Tillie took the phone into her bedroom for privacy’s sake. Once she’d settled on the floor, she put the base in her lap and brought the receiver to her ear.
“Hello.”
“Tillie.”
She wrapped the phone cord around a finger, momentarily pacified by the smooth, sexy way he always purred her name. “I thought you weren’t going to call until tomorrow.”
“I said that, didn’t I? Well, I wanted to check and see if you made it home all right.”
“I’m home, and I’m all right.”
“Good.” The sharp intake of his breath reverberated in the receiver. It sounded like he was about to say something, then thought better of it. Tillie stopped fiddling with the phone cord and sat up, wondering why he really called. He had to know she’d gotten home safely. His driver had been the one to drop her off.
“Is that all?”
“Yes,” he said with a sigh. Tillie imagined him running a hand over his perfectly coiffed hair and shaking his head. “No. No. That’s not it. I had a good time tonight, Tillie.”
She bit her bottom lip, fighting a smile. “Me too.”
“I’m sorry you couldn’t go to the bar with us. It must be tiring to stay out so late when you have to work the breakfast shift.”
“I’ve been quite tired. I think it’s all worth it, though, all this staying out late and socializing. Don’t you?”
“Yes, of course. Chester and the others spoke highly of you after you left. You’re getting your name out there, and that’s valuable.”
Tillie slumped back into the wall, realizing the moment had passed them by. “I’m glad to hear it. Thanks for inviting me.”
“What do you say we meet for a drink at The Blue Bar before tomorrow night? The place will be packed with Broadway types wetting their throats before work. There are bound to be at least a handful of people I could introduce you to.”
“That sounds great.” She feigned excitement, knowing it would be fun to play Oren’s girlfriend again but also understanding it wouldn’t be enough.
“And Tillie,” he started, his voice softening with a note of sincerity, “for what it’s worth, I would have insisted you use the car tonight even if we hadn’t had an audience. Which reminds me, next time you should expect a much grander display when we part. I hope you’d be okay with a goodbye kiss”
Her breath hitched. “What?”
“I’ll see you tomorrow at five. Don’t be late.” Amusement colored his tone.
“But—”
He cut her off. “Goodnight, Tillie.”
Resigned, Tillie responded, “Goodnight, Oren.”