The Age of Dreaming (22 page)

Not twenty minutes after Nora’s arrival, Ashley Bennett Tyler appeared. He went directly over to where the actor John Vail was standing, and although I hadn’t been aware that the two men were friends, it was clear by the way they bent their heads together and laughed that they knew one another quite well. The director had been quite busy of late, and was probably in need of a party. Rumor had it that he’d recently appeared in court on behalf of his servant, who’d been charged with a morals violation for soliciting young boys. It was precisely the kind of story that Dreyfus tried to keep out of the papers, and indeed there had been a few articles. But Tyler’s court visit had had its intended result—the District Attorney ultimately dropped the charges, and the whole affair had settled down quickly.

At the party, Tyler and Vail were not left alone for long, because the moment that Nora realized the director was there, she rushed over to him, her young man behind her. By this time, Evelyn Marsh had moved off toward the food, so I made my way over to Tyler as well.

“Ah, Mr. Nakayama!” said Tyler as I approached. “What a festive occasion.” Then, turning to Nora and bowing his head slightly. “Good evening, Nora. What a pleasure it is to see you.”

This innocuous greeting caused Nora to fiush, and she pressed her hands together with glee. “Mr. Tyler, I didn’t know you were coming! Oh, what a wonderful surprise!” She beamed at him unself-consciously, and for a moment I thought she might start jumping up and down like a child.

“Well, it’s a special day, isn’t it, Nora? Although for us Brits, your Independence Day is no cause for celebration.” He smiled, and Nora laughed as if he’d uttered the most original thought in the world. Next to her, Mr. Riner Jones looked miserable.

“Oh, Mr. Tyler, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” Nora gushed. “When will you direct me again?”

“Soon, Nora. Soon. We have several pictures in the works. If things go as planned, one of them will start shooting in two or three months.”

“Two or three months! That’s far too long!” Her shoulders slumped in disappointment, and her lower lip pushed out like a little girl’s. Then, just as quickly, her expression reversed and she looked at him brightly again. “
I
know what we can do! Russell and I are going out to Jake’s Joint tonight. Why don’t you come with us?”

Tyler threw his head back and gave a hearty laugh. “You’re being rather rude to your host, don’t you think? And what will your mother say about you frequenting a speakeasy?”

“We’re going much later, after the fireworks. And Jun can come too! My mother won’t say anything at all, Mr. Tyler, because as far as she knows, I’m locked in my room for the night. That’s the
only
good thing about our dreadful new mansion—it’s so big that she can’t keep track of me.”

Tyler gave a smile both indulgent and avuncular. “You and your young man enjoy your evening together. Besides, Mr. Vail and I have other plans.”

But Nora would not be put off so easily. “You do? Well then, can we come with you?”

At this, John Vail smiled and cast his eyes down. He was a small man, compact and handsome, and his quick, dry wit was a welcome fixture at any party, as well as on any set. Vail was the kind of actor who an audience recognized, but whose last name often escaped them. Although he’d never appeared in a starring role, he always had steady work, usually as the main character’s best friend or younger brother. Tyler glanced at him now and appeared to suppress a smile of his own. “I’m afraid not, Nora. This is strictly men only. Your original plans sound more appropriate.”

Nora looked dejected again and was about to lodge another protest when an audible murmur rippled through the crowd. Following everyone else’s eyes and gestures, I turned toward the house. There, on the landing, stood Elizabeth Banks. She had just arrived, in a gown too elegant for the casual nature of this gathering. Her hair had been curled and tied back from her face, and she held her-self straight and momentarily still, as if waiting for a formal introduction. But while she knew several of the people who were standing close by, she did not appear to see anyone around her. She was looking directly at Tyler, and then at young Nora, and there was an expression on her face unlike anything I’d ever seen, and I knew what it was for, and it frightened me. She commenced a slow, gliding walk out away from the house, and although I cannot logically explain why this was so, it felt like we had all done something terribly wrong and were now having to account for our behavior. Finally, she rounded the corner of the pool and closed the rest of the space between us. John Vail, glancing up, saw her approach.

“Uh-oh,” he said, “there’s going to be a ruckus.”

I moved aside to make room and she arrived like a queen; one could almost imagine a string of servants carrying her train. “Hello, Jun,” she said perfunctorily, but she did not look at me, for her eyes were fixed on Tyler. “Good evening, Ashley.”

The director did not have a chance to reply, for Nora Minton Niles bubbled over. “Miss Banks, it’s such a pleasure to finally meet you!” she said with the same excitement she’d shown about the speakeasy. “You’re even more beautiful in real life than you are in the pictures!”

This departed so drastically from the usual behavior of most actresses that no one knew how to respond. Even Elizabeth seemed taken aback. Then Tyler—always Tyler— stepped in to make things better. “If that is true,” he said, “then it is because my cameramen have not been doing her justice. Is it really possible that the two of you have never met?”

“That’s right,” said Elizabeth, who had recovered by now. “You’ve been keeping Nora all to yourself.” She looked at him sharply, and then pulled out a cigarette, holding it up expectantly. John Vail and I both struck matches and he, with a wink at me, prevailed.

“I’ve wanted to meet you forever!” Nora continued, oblivious to the machinations around her. “I’ve been a fan of yours since
Sleight of Hand
—oh, even longer than that! Since your wonderful comedies back at Triangle. Can you believe that when
A Holiday Caper
came out, I was only ten years old?”

A cold, thin smile fixed on Elizabeth’s lips, and she looked down her nose at the younger actress.

“I have been in Hollywood,” said Elizabeth, “since before anyone knew what pictures were going to become. Back then, hard work and talent actually
meant
something to people, and you had to have some skill to be successful. It is amazing,” she added, lifting her chin higher still, “the kinds of roles they give to children these days.”

“Now Elizabeth,” said Tyler in a slightly scolding tone, “I think we
still
reward hard work and talent. And if I’m not mistaken, you yourself were quite a youngster when you started in this business.”

I watched the two of them, who were clearly—despite the presence of other people—having a conversation with each other. And I thought, not for the first time, that it was difficult to resent the director, as he had never let his friendship with Elizabeth affect his dealings with me, nor change the way that he behaved toward Nora. Yet if Nora was the subject of their argument, she herself did not seem to know it. Seeing the admiration on her face as she gazed at the older actress, I realized that Nora was totally unaffected by the jealousies and competitiveness that poisoned most other people in Hollywood. She had never felt passionate about being an actress, and she seemed indifferent to being a star. She did not take stock in or even understand the effect her beauty had on others. It did not cost her to compliment or admire Elizabeth, for if one does not see oneself as part of a competition, one has nothing to win—or to lose. Nora was a star, yes, and a talented actress. But she was not and never would be a diva.

Elizabeth must have finally understood this herself; when she struck again, she aimed where she knew it would hurt.

“Well, Ashley,” she said in a saccharine voice, “according to you, I still
am
a youngster, at least in terms of my learning. Why, if it weren’t for all those nights you spend teaching me about books and art, I wouldn’t know any more than I did in primary school.”

This latest dart struck home. But even as Nora registered the kind of time that Elizabeth was spending with Tyler, she reacted not with womanly jealousy, but with a childlike turn of logic. “Oh, Mr. Tyler, that sounds so wonderful! Would you mind helping me with my studies too? I know you’re busy, so we could arrange it for whenever you wish. In fact,” she said, brightening, “if my mother would allow it, maybe you could even come to my mansion!”

I did not hear how either Tyler or Elizabeth responded, for at that very moment, my butler Phillipe came out to tell me that one of the hired waitstaff had taken ill. That left his staff a man short, with at least another hour of food service before it grew dark enough for the fireworks. As we looked out on the guests, however, things seemed to be well in hand. The crowd had topped out at around forty people, and most of them had eaten already. Phillipe and I decided no additional steps were needed, and that he and the remaining staff would be able to man the party without any interruption of service. Then, as I looked out at the people sipping drinks in the beautiful colors of sunset, which just now lit the San Gabriel Mountains a brilliant pink, I felt a deep sense of satisfaction. The guests were in good hands, and I think it is fair to say that people knew that when Jun Nakayama set his mind to something—whether it was a film or a party—the proceedings would always be carried out with the utmost of class and professionalism.

If there was anyone who was not enjoying herself, it was, of course, Elizabeth. After her initial encounter with Tyler and Nora, she fiitted from group to group, fiirting with the men, laughing too loudly, and taking drink after drink from the waiters’ trays. As she looked up at the men seductively, as she touched them lightly on the arm, my stomach felt distinctly upset. But if she thought this behavior would have an effect on Tyler, she was surely disappointed. Tyler and Vail stayed to themselves in a corner of the garden, speaking only to those who approached them. Nora and her date, meanwhile, were quite popular that night, perhaps because it was so rare for Nora to be out at any social function; or because her openness and clear delight at everything she saw were so disarming and pleasant to observe.

At some point, apparently having run out of options, Elizabeth made her way back to me. I was alone momentarily—I had just finished talking with a new contract actor from Perennial—when she appeared at my side. She was holding a martini and her eyes had assumed the glaze they often did on long nights of drinking. “What a fabulous party,” she said, voice heavy with sarcasm. “I hope you’re having as great a time as I am.”

I took the drink away from her to keep her from spilling it. “You should slow down a little, Elizabeth, don’t you think?”

“Why?” she asked, glaring at me. “I’m not hurting anyone. You think I should be a teetotaler like Nora, don’t you? The prissy little bitch.” She screwed up her face when she said Nora’s name, and I was angry on the young girl’s behalf.

“Nora’s a very sweet girl,” I said. “And she’s never done anything to you.”

“Never done …” She looked at me sharply, then let out a bitter laugh. “Give me a break, Jun. Do you know how many roles she’s gotten this last year—roles that should have been mine? Do you realize what they’re doing to me? And now, as if that isn’t bad enough, she’s trying to take Ashley too.”

At this her eyes welled, and I suddenly felt sorry for her. “Elizabeth,” I said gently, placing my hand on her shoulder. I had touched her this way a thousand times, but now, in the presence of all my guests, she fiinched and moved away. I felt it like a slap in the face.

I could not remain there with her, so I walked off to find Phillipe and check the status of the fireworks preparations. Tyler and Vail had disappeared, and I wondered if they had already left. There was no time to think about that, however; Phillipe said the men I’d hired to stage the fireworks show were ready to begin. Phillipe and two others went inside the house and turned off all the lights, while I instructed the guests to gather on the west side of the lawn, where chairs had been arranged for everyone to sit. Once the guests were settled, Phillipe turned off the out-side lights and we all sat still in the darkness. Across the wide space of my parklike grounds, we watched a twenty-minute display of explosions, swirls, blooming fiowers of colorful light. The guests oohed and aahed at the firework that looked like a sprouting plant, which then put forth a burst of bright red petals; and again when one explosion produced a sprinkling of stars that blinked and glittered before they faded into the darkness. It was a wonderful display, ambitious for such a small setting, and when it was over, the crowd broke into a spontaneous cheer.

“Here’s to the fireworks!” someone called out.

“And here’s to Jun! To Jun Nakayama, for throwing such a wonderful party!”

Everyone shouted and cheered and raised their glasses, and I bowed to them with a fiourish. The night had been a success. And despite all the complications, I now felt pleased with how everything had turned out.

The waiters circulated with bottles of champagne, and the guests gathered to receive their drinks. As I looked around the yard, I realized that Elizabeth was missing— and I did not remember seeing her before the fireworks had started. She might have left, which would not have been particularly surprising considering how upset she had been. More likely, given the amount of her consumption, she had simply slipped away somewhere to rest. She knew every room in the house and would have felt perfectly comfortable letting herself into a guest room or the library, or asking Phillipe to take her to my room. So after taking one last look around at the guests—who had all assumed the calmer rhythms of a long party winding down—I headed into the house to look for Elizabeth. I checked first in my own bedroom, which was undisturbed, and then in the downstairs library. I looked in the kitchen, in case she was getting something to eat, and then in the drawing room where she sometimes sat in front of the fire. Finding her in none of these usual spots, I ascended the back stairs and was surprised to encounter John Vail outside of one of the bedrooms, leaning against a wall and smoking a cigarette. His hair was slightly ruffled and his tie undone, and when he saw me, he appeared distinctly amused.