The year is 1950, when the Golden Age of Hollywood is at its peak and the hate of Communism is rampant in American society. Caught in the middle, are two unexpected lovers.....
She is a wickedly handsome seductress with a tragic past and a hunger fo...
"Richard, you have to believe me when I say this girl has got everything! How many times have I led you astray?" Michael walked quickly by the side of the director who seemed to have no interest in his pleas.
"Actually, you've led me astray many times..." he said nonchalantly, not slowing down his pace.
"Alright, I can admit that I haven't always made the best decisions regarding your status in this business, but you gotta believe me this time!"
"And why should I audition this girl...Ethel?" he finally stopped walking and looked at Michael intently, waiting for a feasible explanation.
"She has soul, Richard..." Michael softly patted his chest. "She doesn't just play the part, she becomes the part...I saw it with my own eyes! Not only that, but she also has talents in all aspects; sing, dancing, she has it all! isn't that what we look for in all actors?"
"Look, Michael" Richard started with a wry smile, "I'm glad for your enthusiasm, but you have to remember that there is a fine line between the roles of the screenwriter and the director: you write the content, I decide how it should be brought to life. I know what I'm looking for..." he raised his eyebrows knowingly. "Lana Turner is my biggest prospect for our lead actress...using this girl you're talking about wouldn't be feasible with Lana in the picture."
Michael nodded his head solemnly, but he couldn't give up just yet, for Ethel's sake. He had promised her this job. "Can you, at the very least, let her audition for the part? Maybe she doesn't get the lead, but you can give her something!"
Richard sighed and twisted his mouth. "You better be glad you're my friend and I like you, otherwise I wouldn't be doing this. She can audition for me..."
Michael shook his fist in victory, smiling broadly. "Thank you, Richard...you're a pal!" he said gratefully as he patted the man on the back.
"I didn't say I was finished" Richard laughed as he held up his finger, signaling patience. "I have a tight schedule, I'll only be available to see her this Thursday at noon, no more than fifteen minutes. She'll have to impress the hell outta me..."
"I'll be sure to let her know, Rich" Michael laughed awkwardly, lighting a cigarette.
He hadn't told the man that Ethel was black, he knew Richard would have refused to even let her audition if he knew this tidbit of information. Risking his career for a girl was something he would have never done prior to meeting Ethel. He couldn't really say that he loved her, but he was intrigued by her. She was broken, and he wanted to mend her. She was stubborn, and he wanted to soften her heart. She was secretive, and he wanted to explore her. She was talented, and he wanted to discover her.
He watched as Richard entered his office and shook his head bemusingly. He walked down the street and found a pay phone, dropping a few quarters into the machine.
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It was a pleasant evening. Howard had come home early from the railroads. He didn't yell or show any signs of agitation, but only gruffly demanded his supper. Ethel made him greens with buttermilk cornbread; it was his favorite meal. The phone rang as she took the pan of cornbread out of the oven. She hurriedly wipes her hands on her apron and hurried over to the telephone.
"Ethel" a voice she knew all too well, carried over the line. She nervously glanced in Howard's direction; it wasn't a good time for Michael to be calling.
"Hello Georgia!" she exclaimed with a shaky voice. "I haven't heard from you in ages!"
"Ethel, what are you talking about?" Michael replied perplexed.
Ethel quickly lowered her voice to a whisper and cupped the bottom speaker with her hand. "Now is not a good time to talk, what do you want?" she hissed impatiently
"You're auditioning for the part. Meet me at the Broadway Theatre, Room 105, Thursday at twelve o' clock sharp"
"Wha—"
"Just meet me there on Thursday!" he demanded.
"That sounds swell, Georgia! I'll see you on Thursday!" she said, quickly recovering from Michael's baffling request. She hung up the phone and walked into the small kitchen dining area, giving Howard a timid smile.
As she dished his food onto a chipped plate, he cleared the phlegm from his throat and tucked a white napkin in his collared shirt. Even though he seemed to be in a pleasing mood, she was nervous. Her hands shook as she set his plate down; it clanked against the wood, nearly spilling the contents. Howard gave her a scrutinizing look, silently reprimanding her with his eyes. She was hoping he wouldn't ask about the money or her job at the mansion, but to her dismay, he did.
"Do you have the money for this month?" he asked as he shoved a forkful of food into his mouth.
Ethel shifted uncomfortably, afraid to look him directly in the eyes. "Well, I— you see—" she paused for a moment and turned her head to the side, looking down towards the checkered tile floor. "I didn't get the full amount for this month..."
Howard suddenly stopped chewing, and he gave Ethel an icy stare. "Didn't get it?" He laughed with a sneer. "You I am trying to support this home and prepare for our move...we need that money!"
Ethel didn't say anything, and peered at him sheepishly.
"Why don't you just go over to that woman's mansion, and ask her for it?"
"I can't just go over there and demand my money!"
"You earned that money, what's the problem?" He frowned and waited for a reply.
"I can't get the rest of the money..." she said barely above a whisper.
Howard slowly rose from his seat and stalked over to Ethel. She cowered in the corner, shuddering at his closeness. She stared into his solid chest. He smelled of must and sweat, and his hands and clothing were stained with black oil smears.
"Why do you refuse to listen to me, Ethel?" He whispered sinisterly, his eyes darting about her face. He grabbed her wrists and brought them to either side of her face. He gripped them so hard that his hands started to tremble. Ethel thought he was going to break them.
"Howard, I'm sorry!" she cried out with anguish. "I didn't get paid this month because I made a mistake at work and Mrs. Redmond refused to pay me! I'm sorry!" The words tumbled out of her mouth as she struggled under Howard's grip. She didn't dare tell him that she had been fired.
You can never do anything right, Eth!" Howard laughed hysterically and slowly shook his head. His eyes were crazed like a bull ready to charge. Without warning, he started to pummel her with punches wherever he could; her face, her stomach, her chest. She fell to the floor under the impact of his blows. He kicked her in the stomach with all the force of his leg and with his heavy boot still on his foot. He then stooped down to her level until their noses were touching.
"Why can't you just listen to me? You drive me crazy!" He whispered. "Since you can't contribute to this home, you can just sleep outside until you get that money!" He dragged her to the door and pushed her out into the cold.
She banged in the door, begging for him to let her back in. It was in the middle of winter, and she would freeze to death under the frigid New York temperatures.
A light dusting of snow started to fall from the darkened sky. She was disoriented and barely conscious as she struggled to pull her battered frame from the damp concrete. She cried as she stumbled down the steep apartment steps, not sure where she would go for the night.
