Family Album (17 page)

“I read somewhere that Ida Lupino directed a movie for Warner Brothers, Abe.”

“I know. But not everyone is going to give you that chance, Faye.” He was honest with her. “In fact, few will.” And then, “What does your husband have to say about all this?”

She took a deep breath and looked her old agent in the eye. He hadn't changed much over the years. He was still rotund, gray-haired, sharp, demanding, but kind, and honest to a fault. And best of all, she sensed instantly that he was still her friend. He would help her if he could. “He doesn't know yet, Abe. I thought I'd talk to you first.”

“Do you think he'll object to your coming back to Hollywood?”

“Not like this. He might if I tried to act again. But the truth is I'm too old now, and I've been gone for too long.”

“At thirty-two, that's a lot of crap. You're not too old, but it would be hard to make a comeback after all these years. People forget. And the young kids have their own stars today. You know,” he sat back and drew pensively on his cigar over dessert, “I like your idea a lot better. If we can sell it to a studio, it would really be something else.”

“Will you try?”

He pointed the cigar at her. “Are you asking me to be your agent again, Faye?”

“I am.” She met his eyes and he smiled.

“Then I accept. I'll sniff around and see what I get.” But she knew him better than that. She knew he would turn over every rock and stone until he found something for her, and if he didn't find anything, it would be because there was nothing there. And she was right about him. He didn't call her for six weeks, and when he did, he asked her to come in to see him again. She didn't even dare ask him on the phone. She just took the bus from Monterey Park to Hollywood, bumping along nervously, and then running up the steps to his offices. She was breathless when she arrived, but still beautiful he noticed as she sat down. She was wearing a striking red silk dress with a lightweight black wool coat. She had kept some of her clothes from their better days and she looked wonderful. She almost trembled as he watched her face, and he reached across the desk and took her hand. He knew just how anxious she was.

“Well?”

“Relax. It's nothing fabulous, but it's a start. Maybe. If it appeals to you. It's a job as assistant director, at pathetic pay, at MGM. But my friend Dore Schary liked the idea. He wants to see what you can do. And he's well aware of what Lupino is doing at Warner Brothers. He likes the idea of having a woman in his stable too.” Schary had long since had the reputation of being the most forward-thinking of the studio heads, he was also the youngest of all of them.

“Will he be able to tell if I'm any good, if I'm working for someone else?” She was worried about that, but on the other hand, no one would just let her direct by herself for the first time. She knew that too.

Abe nodded his head. “The director is someone he has under contract, and Dore knows he's no good. If this film turns out halfway decently, it'll be all your fault. And the guy is so lazy and drinks so much, he won't even be on the set half the time. You'll have a free hand, what you won't get is much money or much glory out of this. That comes the next time around, if you do a good job this time.”

She nodded. “Is the picture any good?”

“It could be.” He was honest with her again, outlined the script, told her who the stars would be. “Faye, it's a chance and that's what you want. If you're serious about this, I think you should give it a try. What have you got to lose?”

“Not much I guess.” She looked at him pensively, thinking over all that he had said, and she liked the sound of it. “When would I start?” She wanted time to study the script, and she could almost see Abe gulp. He knew how she hiked to work, how thorough she was, how studious. He grinned sheepishly.

“Next week.”

Faye rolled her eyes with a groan. “My God.” It also didn't give her much time to break Ward in to the idea. But this was what she wanted, it was all she knew how to do, and she wasn't even sure she knew how to do this, but she wanted desperately to try. She had secretly been thinking about it for months. She looked Abe Abramson in the eye and nodded her head. “I'll take it.”

“I haven't told you how much.”

“I'll take it anyway.”

He told her the pay, and they both knew it was ridiculous, but the important thing was that she was being given a chance.

“You'll have to be on the set by six o'clock every day, earlier if they want you to. You may work till eight or nine o'clock at night. I don't know how you'll manage with the kids. Maybe Ward can help you out.” Although Abe couldn't imagine that. Ward wasn't that kind of man. He was too used to having an army of help to fulfill his every need. And Abe wondered how much he helped Faye now.

“I still have one woman to help me out.”

“Good.” He stood up. It was just like the old days … almost … sort of … she grinned.

“Thank you, Abe.”

“Never mind that.” His eyes said that he felt sorry for her, but he respected her. She'd bail herself out yet. She was just that kind of girl. “Come back tomorrow and sign the contract, if you can.” It meant another long bus ride into town, but nothing compared to the ride she would have now every day, getting all the way across town from east to west, to Culver City, and MGM. But she would have walked over ground glass for this job, or for Abe. She knew he would take ten percent from her, and ten percent of what she would be making was hardly worth looking at for him, but he didn't seem to mind. And neither did she. She was thrilled.

She had a job! She wanted to shout as she ran down the stairs. And she smiled to herself all the way home on the bus, and burst into the house the way one of her children would have. She found Ward sitting in the living room, obviously feeling the effects of another champagne lunch with one of his friends, and she dropped onto his lap and threw her arms around his neck.

“Guess what?”

“If you tell me you're pregnant again, I'll kill myself … but only after I kill you!” He laughed at her and she shook her head with a smug look he hadn't seen her wear before.

“Nope. Guess again.”

“I give up.” His eyes were red and his words were slurred but she didn't even mind that now.

“I have a job!” He looked shocked and she went on. “As assistant director on a movie that starts next week at MGM.” He stood up so quickly that she had to scramble to her feet so as not to fall on the floor, as he looked down at her.

“Are you out of your mind? What the hell did you do that for? Is that what you've been out doing? Looking for work?” He looked horrified, and she wondered how he thought they were going to support themselves. Fifty-five thousand in bonds was hardly going to do the job for two adults, five children, and a maid. “Why the hell did you do a thing like that?” He was shouting at her and the children were staring at them from the stairs.

“One of us has to, Ward.”

“I told you, I've been making contacts every day.”

“Great. Then something will turn up for you soon. But in the meantime, I want to do this. It could be wonderful experience.”

“For what? Is that what you want? Hollywood again?”

“Only like this, not like the old days.” She fought to keep her voice calm, and she wanted to be honest with him. She also wanted the children to go upstairs and stop staring at them, but when she waved them away, they didn't budge, and Ward paid no attention to them at all, these days he rarely did. “I think we should talk about this when we're alone.”

“To hell with that. Well talk about it now.” His good looks seemed to vanish as he raged. “Why didn't you ask me before you did this?”

“It came up suddenly.”

“When?” He was throwing words at her like rocks. “Today.”

“Fine. Then tell them you changed your mind. You're not interested.”

Suddenly something in her snapped and she could feel fury mounting in her. “Why should I do a thing like that? Ward, I want this job. I don't give a damn how badly it's paid, or what you think. This is what I want to do. And one day you'll be glad I did. Somebody has to bail us out of this mess we're in.” Instantly, she regretted the words.

“And you're it. Is that it?”

“Maybe so.” She might as well go on now, the damage was done.

“Great.” His eyes blazed at her as he grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair. “Then you don't need me around here, do you?”

“Of course, I do …” But the words weren't out of her mouth before he had slammed out the door and Valerie and Vanessa began to cry, as Gregory looked sadly down at her.

“Is he ever coming back?”

“Of course he is.” She walked up to meet them, suddenly feeling tired. Why did he have to make everything so difficult? Why did he have to take it all so personally? Probably because he drank too much, she told herself with a sigh, as she kissed Lionel and tousled Greg's hair, and then reached down to pick up the girls in her arms. She was strong enough to carry both of them. She was strong enough to do a lot of things. Maybe that was the problem with Ward. He didn't like knowing that and it was getting harder and harder to keep that fact from him. She wanted to ask him why he was doing this to her, but she already knew the answer to that. He couldn't cope with what had happened to them, and his choices were to blame her or himself. Either way she paid the price. As she did that night, lying awake until four o'clock, waiting for him to come home, praying that he hadn't smashed up the car and gotten hurt. He walked in at four-fifteen, reeking of gin and barely able to crawl into bed in the darkened room. There was no point even talking to him now. She would wait until morning and tell him her plan. But when she did, he was not impressed.

“For heaven's sake, Ward, listen to me.” He was so hung over he could barely see, and she was in a hurry to get to Abe's office in Hollywood, to sign the contract and pick up the script.

“I don't want to listen to that shit. You're as crazy as I used to be. Pipe dreams. That's all they are. You're nuts. You don't know any more about directing than I do, and I don't know a damn thing about any of it.” He looked at her furiously.

“Neither do I. But I'm going to learn. That's the whole point of this job, and maybe the next one after that … maybe the next ten films, for all I know. But after that at least I'll know something about it, and what I'm suggesting to you isn't all that insane.”

“Horseshit.”

“Ward, listen to me. Producers are people with a lot of contacts, people who know other people with money. They don't have to have a dime themselves, and they don't even have to like the film, although it helps if they pretend they do. They're go-betweens. They put together the deal. What better job for you? Look at the people you know, the contacts you have. Some of your friends would love to invest in films and get a little bit involved in Hollywood. And one day, if we do this right, we could be a team. You produce, I direct.” He looked at her as though she were out of her mind.

“Why don't you just sign us up for vaudeville? You're goddamn nuts, and you're going to make a fool of yourself.” Finally, she pulled away from him. He didn't want hope yet. He couldn't even begin to see the possibilities, but she could. She could see it all, if he'd only get off his dead ass and try. She picked up her coat and handbag and looked down at him.

“Laugh at me if you want, Ward Thayer. But one day you'll admit I was right. And if you ever get up the guts to be a man again, you might even try my idea. It's not as crazy as you'd like to think. Think about it sometime, if you have time, between drinks.” And with that, she walked out and closed the door.

And for the next two months, she barely saw Ward at all. He was sound asleep when she left the house for the long bus ride she took to get to work every day. She had to leave the house just after four, and the bus took forever to get to MGM. And by the time she got home at night, it was after ten o'clock, the children were sound asleep, and most of the time Ward was out. She never asked him where he went at night. She just fell into bed after a hot bath, a snack, and a glance at the script, and the next day it would begin again. It would have been enough to kill anyone, but she wouldn't give up. The director she was working for hated everything she did, and gave her a hard time whenever she was on the set, but fortunately he was almost never there. And she didn't give a damn what he did, there was pure magic between the actors and herself, and she got something from them that no one else could. It showed in the daily rushes, and more than that it showed in the print they finally showed to Dore Schary. Abe called her at home late in January, a week after they had wrapped up the film and she'd come home to find Ward gone for several days this time. He had told the maid he was going to Mexico “to see friends,” and she hadn't heard a word from him. A small chill ran up her spine as the message was delivered to her, but she forced herself to think that everything was all right and concentrate on the children she'd barely seen since she began working on the film. But her time with them was interrupted again, this time by a call from Abe that came one morning as she was playing with Anne.

“Faye?” The familiar voice boomed in her ear, and she smiled.

“Yes, Abe.”

“I've got good news.” She held her breath. Please, God, let them like her work. She had been dying over it, waiting to hear. “Schary says you're fabulous.”

“Oh God …” Tears stung her eyes.

“He wants to give you another shot at it.”

“On my own this time?”

“No. As assistant director again, but for more pay. And this time, he wants you to work with someone good. He thinks you'll learn a lot from him.” He mentioned a name that took Faye's breath away. He had directed Faye herself years ago, and she knew what Dore Schary said was true. She would learn a lot from this man. But she wanted to direct a movie herself. She knew she had to be patient now. She reminded herself of that as Abe outlined the new deal, and it sounded very good to her. “What do you think?”

“The answer is yes.” They needed the money anyway, and God only knew where Ward was. This Mexican trip was really the last straw and she intended to tell him that when he came back. That, and a lot of other things too. She wanted to tell him about this new deal. It was wonderful, and there was no one else she could tell. She had been so desperately lonely without him. “When do I start?”