Hollywood (Jan - Oct 1934)

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of love until she met Clark Brian, the nation's favorite croonerl bed where he sat down beside Joan close enough for his thigh to touch hers. He handed the girl a cocktail at which she shook her head negatively. "I never touch them," she said with a smile. Rocci eyed her closely. "Just this once; it won't hurt you. They're mild." "Weil, if you insist," she assented. They clicked glasses and drank, looking into each other's eyes. A few moments later Rocci asked her if she would have another. This time she refused and stuck to it. They were still seated on the edge of the bed. "Did you really return that bracelet?" Rocci asked. "Of course I did. I can't accept favors like that without giving something in return." "You accepted a favor from me." "That's different." "You're alone with me in my apartment, it's after midnight and you're sitting on my bed," Frank persisted. Joan looked at him candidly. "But I trust you," she said. Rocci smiled and placed his hand on one of hers in a gentle gesture. "You're right, Joan. You can trust me. Right now I'm going to take you home and let you make up for the beauty sleep you've lost." The next day Frank was seated in the office of the Klub Kaley. Tex reclined languidly on a chaise longue while the ubiquitous Chuck scattered cigar ashes on the floor. "Twenty grand for the place, Tex. How about it?" Tex fitted a fresh cigarette into a long ivory holder. "There is no how about it. It's a deal." "O. K.," said Frank. "Now I want to talk with Max. Go get him, Chuck." A few moments later Chuck returned with the explosive dance director at his heels. Max's hair was tousled and his shirt was open at the front, the unbuttoned cuffs waving as he gesticulated. "Joan Whelan is a good performer, isn't she. Max?" The dance director's face took on an apprehensive expression. "I want you to change things around so she's the big shot in the revue," said Rocci. Max threw up his hands. "Tell me you're just kidding, Mr. Rocci! Miracles you want! You ask me to do the impossible!" Still in a quiet tone the racketeer continued, "You get me all wrong. I'm not asking you: I'm telling you." Max assumed an expression of utter distress but he did as he was told. For weary hours he drilled the ingenue star in his new revue. • The opening night found Joan in her dressing room along with Sybil and Esther. The room was banked with costly flowers. "Listen to this, sis, it's what Walter Winchell has to say: Joan looked at Rocci candidly as he said pointedly, "You're alone with me in my apartment, it's after midnight and you're sitting on my bed" 'How come Max Mefoofski, icho arranges the footwork routines for the toe-and-heelers at the Klub Kaley, picked a newcomer out of the chorus for a major part? Could it be that a certain well known man-about-Broadway recently bought a piece of the joint, for the usual reason and laid down the law? Love is like that.'" Joan's comment was, "I wonder what he means?" She ripped open a telegram that had just arrived. "Knock 'em dead, kid. Rocci." The girl's hand shook. "It's almost time now. Oh, I must make good!" When Joan appeared, Rocci watched in silence looking from the dancer to the faces of those seated at the tables and he knew that she was putting it over. There was a tense feeling of interest as the colorful revue progressed to its climax, followed by a wild burst of applause. Rocci found Joan in her dressing room weeping and laughing on Esther's shoulder. "Oh, I'm so happy," she repeated over and over again. "I'm so glad they like me." During subsequent weeks Rocci seldom let a night pass without dropping in at the Tex Kaley Klub, nor did he forget to order flowers daily for the new dancing star. He invited Joan to reinspect his apartment which he was having redecorated according to the ideas of an expensive interior decorator. Joan passed from room to room with approving exclamations. "Oh, it's just going to be too wonderful." And the racketeer was pleased. The decorator approached Frank. "While you're here, Mr. Rocci, will you tell me what shade you want the shutters painted?" IMenKe turn to page sixty-one JANUARY, 1934 27