He hadn’t said it, but her crawling back home would cost him just a one-way plane ticket—a cheap way to get out of the nearly six hundred dollars in rent and groceries he was paying for every month. He wouldn’t have to fork over the fun money anymore, either.
The only obvious way she could see to stay where she was in Malibu was to find a way to make the six hundred a month herself. And that seemed nearly impossible.
She could sell the expensive jewelry and clothes and shoes she’d bought with the movie money, but how did one even do that? It was humiliating to even think about. And how long would the resulting cash last if all she could get for used clothing was twenty cents on the dollar? A couple months?
Did she really want to beg for a job down at the café where actors and actresses from the Colony dined and schmoozed? Would the owner even hire her? Could she handle the embarrassment if he did? And even if she could handle it, would she make enough money pouring coffee and delivering plates to live in the Gilberts’ beautiful Malibu house? That didn’t seem likely.
Nicky stood up when the laces were tied, anxious to go next door and see Algernon, which was how Melanie convinced him to be willing to spend the next couple hours with June and Eva.
She’d been astonished at both Eva’s and June’s willingness to help her out with Nicky—June especially. June didn’t have children, so had never raised any, but she’d come over that first day after Eva told her what had happened, bringing saltines and peanut butter when Nicky wanted them for a snack and Melanie didn’t have either ingredient. And quiet Eva, who hardly ever spoke to Melanie when she was at the house, was suddenly full of words for Nicky—and gently delivered advice when Melanie responded to tantrums with near-tantrums of her own.
While the withdrawal of Carson’s care and attention—and soon his money—was soul crushing, the unlikely almost-friendship she was developing with Eva and to an extent June was softening that blow.
The only thing that could complete this welcome addition of having friends again would be if Elwood appeared at his window and started talking to her again.
Well, that wasn’t the only thing that would complete it.
There was also the matter of Alex’s return…
Her brother had vanished for the first time on a Friday.
In reality, he’d been gone for several days when Melanie’s parents found out from college officials that Alex, instead of attending classes, had packed a suitcase and left. Herb and Wynona Kolander were advised their son was in danger of failing every class that semester—and losing his scholarship, too, by the way—if he didn’t return pronto.
Herb and Wynona’s first response had been to call the police.Alex was a gifted violinist; he’d never voluntarily leave like that. He had to have been tricked into packing his things. Fooled into getting in someone’s car. Prevented from asking anyone for help, and likely been threatened with harm if he tried to contact his parents.
The local police in Cincinnati had obligingly considered this scenario until Melanie received a postcard from London: Alex and a girlfriend named BJ were happily on their way to the Continent and could she please tell their parents not to worry? The police assessed the postcard—which Herb and Wynona had Melanie mail to them in Ohio, as they’d left her at home—determined it was Alex’s handwriting and not written under duress, and closed the file.
The closing of that file had happened on Melanie’s eighteenth birthday.
Melanie had imagined that she’d still be angry when Alex showed up in a few weeks, which she was sure he would do, and she’d give him the cold shoulder about it. A person only has one eighteenth birthday, and Alex had found a way to ruin hers.
But Alex hadn’t reappeared after a few weeks. In fact, Herb and Wynona Kolander—who’d returned to Omaha after ten days in Cincinnati—spent the summer after Melanie’s high school graduation frantically waiting to hear from Alex again. They took only short breaks from their vigil to urge Melanie to rethink her plan to study theater at the local university in the fall and likewise abandon such an unreachable career goal as becoming a movie star.
As the weeks went by, Melanie’s anger toward Alex had softened into longing. She heard again from him only once. A postcard arrived from Calais in July, which was not where he and BJ were planning to stay; it was merely a stopping-off place before heading to the interior of France. Alex did not say where their ultimate destination was to be, nor did he give Melanie any kind of return address.
This was what saddened Melanie the most: that Alex had seemedto have gone to a completely different planet, and right at the time when Melanie needed him most. For the past two years if Melanie wanted to talk to Alex, all she had to do was pick up the phone and call him. She hadn’t phoned him that often, but it was knowing that she could that eased her mind. Living in the Kolander house without Alex had been lonely and burdensome. Melanie had been especially looking forward to her brother coming home to Omaha that summer—even though Alex had promised no such thing—and now she didn’t know when she would see him again or hear from him.
Melanie could have especially used Alex’s insights in mid-August when Herb asked for a serious sit-down talk about Melanie’s post–high school plans. He began the conversation by asking Melanie what she envisioned she might do with a degree in theater arts. Teach? Wouldn’t it be better, then, to major in education and minor in theater? He also said it was highly improbable a person could become a movie star by simply wanting to be one.
It surely didn’t happen as a result of college coursework.
More likely it came about by chance and happenstance and knowing the right people. Melanie didn’t know anyone in Hollywood and was fifteen hundred miles from Hollywood. A degree in communications or public relations was the smarter choice because there were actual jobs in those fields. And if a gainfully employed Melanie wanted to perform in community plays in the evenings and the weekends, well, she still could. That made more sense, didn’t it?
It wasn’t until after Melanie had gone to bed that same night that she’d thought of what Alex would have added to the conversation if he had been there. He would’ve said something like, “Well, if someone can’t become a movie star by studying acting, then maybe Melanie should just skip college altogether and head out right now to Hollywood.”
That little thought had made her smile. And ponder.
She’d lain awake a long time wondering what it might be like to just pack a suitcase and head west. To leave it all behind and go after what she really wanted.
To do what Alex had done.
Although not how Alex had done it. Melanie would never do that to her family.
But could she—after she’d kissed her disappointed parents goodbye—hop on a train bound for California with nothing on her side but determination, some high school acting classes, and a couple of senior high lead roles? Is that something she could actually summon the courage to do?
She had known she would need money. Money for the train ticket. Money to rent a room or a little studio apartment until she found a part-time job. Money for professionally produced photographs. Money for nicer clothes to improve her chances at open call auditions. She knew about open call auditions. Her high school drama teacher had told her about them. Open call auditions were how someone like her got acting jobs, got her foot in the door, got noticed. It only took one casting director to decide a person was perfect for a role—even if it was just a tiny part with seconds of screen time—to set things in motion and maybe change the course of a person’s life. It could happen that easily. It could happen just by beinginHollywood. Lana Turner had been discovered at fifteen, purchasing a soda at the Top Hat malt shop; Rita Hayworth at sixteen while dancing with her father at a Los Angeles club. She’d heard of women with no connections at all—just like her—getting noticed by a studio exec or talent scout while picking up dry cleaning or walking their dog in a park or buying flowers at an outdoor market, and then being asked if they’d like to come in for a screen test.
As the grandfather clock in the hall struck a single chime at one a.m., Melanie had decided she would take less than a full load of college courses, she’d live at home to save money, and she’d get a better job than just running the cash register at the five-and-dime a couple days a week. She’d save every penny she could. As soon as she had enough—and she knew it might take a while, two years, maybe three—she’d pack her bags.
