“Why won’t you take L.B.’s offer?” he asked. “You’d be making almost as much money as me.”
“If I left Bennett Studios, Papa would have to fold.”
“So? He could start working for MGM, and he’d have enough money to survive and then some. He’d be fine.”
“Haven’t you ever had a dream, Spencer? Something you wanted so much, you would be willing to give up almost everything else for it? That’s Bennett Studios to my parents. It’s their life’s work. They’ve given everything to it, and I couldn’t be the reason they closed. I think it would destroy Papa. Truly.”
“You can’t turn down the offer. It would be foolish. And, knowing L.B., he won’t accept any other answer without consequences.”
“Why would I want to work for a man like that?”
“Because if you go along with him, he can make your wildest dreams come true.”
What were my wildest dreams? It had been so long since I’d even thought about them. Did I really want to be in movies for the rest of my life? If Papa hadn’t been a filmmaker, I would probably have never gone into the business.
That thought made me pause.
I’d always done whatever was expected of me, even teaching with Father in 1849. Although that was something I truly loved. I could see myself continuing to teach in whatever path I chose in November, but did I want to act for the rest of my life?
“How did you even end up in the movies?” I asked, not wanting to think too deeply about the choice in front of me. “Was it your dream to come to Hollywood and become a movie star?”
“All my life.”
“I remember your first movie. You seemed to come out of nowhere, and then you were an instant sensation.”
“It helps that I’m so good-looking.” He lifted his eyebrows at me.
“Too handsome for your own good, if you ask me,” I teased back.
“Some of us aren’t as talented as you, Miss Bennett.” He became serious and picked a piece of grass. “If I had to rely on my talent alone, I wouldn’t have made it out of Chicago.”
“How did you make it out?”
He stood and offered his hand. “Come on. I promised your mother that I’d get you home early. We have a long week—”
“Why do you do that?” I stood and faced him. “Why do you change the subject?”
Spencer studied me for a moment, his face somber and devoid of emotion. “Because if I told you the truth—” He shook his head. “I don’t think you’d like what I had to say.”
“Try me.”
He touched the tip of my chin. “You can’t even handle a speakeasy or a gambling ship. You wouldn’t like to hear what I had to do to get a start in Hollywood. Or what I have to do to stay here.”
“I’m not a child, Spencer.”
“No, but you’re as innocent as they come in Hollywood. Just like the ocean, under the glimmering surface lies a whole world you don’t understand. And the deeper you dive, the more dangerous it gets. So I keep you up at the surface, where you’re safe.”
I pulled back, more confused than ever. “I don’t understand you.”
He frowned. “You know what’s ironic? For the first time in my life, I want someone—you—to understand me.” He took my hand and tilted his head toward the vehicle. “Come on, I’ll take you home. Someday, I might let you try to figure me out, but only after I’ve given up on trying to win you over. Once you know the real me, I don’t think I’d have a chance.”
I usually prided myself on being perceptive and intelligent, but when I was with Spencer, I felt uncertain and naïve.
His life was a well-constructed façade, and for that reason, he felt far more dangerous than Sam ever had.
17
September 24, 1849
