“No. I mean, I thought I’d hear from you before now.”
“I wanted to call when we were both alone, and could talk as long as we want, and say whatever we want.”
At these words Melanie felt a pang of longing. Carson hadn’t been back to see her since his show opened in October, and she missed him. She missed his hand on the small of her back when they were out or that same hand on her knee as they sported about Hollywood in his convertible. She missed the sex, too, but it was his little attentions she missed the most. Carson Edwards had a way of making someone feel like they mattered to him, like his life had more meaning because they were in it. Deep down she knew it was probably all just his forward-facing persona and had little to do with how he really felt about her, but she didn’t care what she knew deep down. She missed being held, embraced, kissed. Touched. Elwood Blankenship telling her to distance herself from Carson’s affections was easy for him to say; he obviously didn’t need anyone.
“I wish you were here.” The words fell too easily off her lips. She knew in an instant they were exactly what Carson wanted her to say.
“So do I. But the show’s doing well. They’re already saying it’s going to be held over. Maybe into the spring even.”
She took a sharp breath at this response of his. He’d met her deep yearning for him with news about the show. His show. His show that was keeping him gainfully employed on Broadway while her career languished. Carson seemed to sense what she’d really needed at that moment was for him to say he longed for her, too. It was a mistake he probably didn’t make often.
“But I will miss you terribly of course if that happens,” he said.
“Will you?”
“Absolutely. Now, tell me how your day went, hmm? I want to hear all about it.”
She hesitated before answering as she could tell in his tone that he wasn’t all that curious. “But you already know how my day went, right? You talked to Walt. Hours ago.”
“Melanie.”
“What? You already know. That’s why you could wait until now to call me.”
“Mel.”
“What?”
“Yes, I already talked to Walt. But he only gave me details. Information. The gist of what was said. And what wasn’t said. That’s not what I care about when it comes to you. I want to know howyoufelt about that phone call. I want to know how the day was for you, not how it was for that man in Washington. I couldn’t care less about him.”
Melanie let those words sink in. Maybe he actually meant them. She wanted to think he did.
“I kept my promise to you,” she said. “They wanted names and I told them I didn’t have any names to give them.”
“I know you did. I don’t need you to tell me that. You’re not that kind of person.”
“What…what kind of person?”
“The kind of person who would subject people you barely know to accusations of treasonous activity just because they know me.”
“You mean like what happened to me.”
“Well, yes.”
“I’m not a communist, Carson.”
“Of course you’re not.”
“Are you? Elwood said I should probably assume you are. Should I?”
“Elwood? You mean Blankenship?” The timbre of his voice took on a slightly rattled edge. “Elwood Blankenship doesn’t know me. I’ve never even spoken to the man. You’ve been talking to him about this?”
“I’ve been asking him for advice now and again about what I should do. You’re not here.”
“But you already know what you should do. What you are already doing. Saying nothing. Because you know nothing.”
“Then why am I on the blacklist, Carson? I know nothing and yet I am on the blacklist. No one in Hollywood will hire me!”
“I am on the blacklist, too. Nobody in Hollywood will hire me right now, either.”
