Lauri Robinson - Stolen Kiss With The Hollywood Starlet

Fifty cents? Shirley picked her purse up off the floor. At these prices she’d be broke in less time than it took to sneeze. She counted out the change and handed it to the waitress. “Thank you.”

“Good luck to you.”

As soon as the waitress walked away, the man rose from his chair and walked over.

“I couldn’t help but overhear you say that you’re a singer.” He pulled out the chair on the other side of her table. “Mind if I sit down?”

Shirley’s insides leaped so fast she almost flew off her chair. “Yes, I am a singer.” He was wearing a suit, like that fella that had almost run her down with his big red car. She peeked around the edge of the table. He wasn’t wearing boots, either. She wouldn’t hold that against him. Nodding at the chair so he’d go ahead and sit down, she added, “Been singing my entire life.”

The guy with the red car, his hair had been the color of sand; this fella’s was as dark as garden dirt. So were his eyes, and he had a pointed jaw. Made her wonder if it was on account he rubbed it so much. That’s what he was doing now. Rubbing his chin.

“Tell me about your experience,” he said, still rubbing his jaw.

“My experience?”

He smiled. “Yes. Singing. Where have you sung before?”

“Oh.” She waved a hand. Should have known that’s what he meant. “Everywhere. While cooking, cleaning, gardening, working in the barn, feeding the hogs. I just sing all the time. Have for as long as I can remember.”

“I see.”

He leaned back in his chair and stared at her so hard she wanted to make sure her collar wasn’t flipped up or something. She was about to check when he gave a slight nod.

“Have you ever sung in front of people?” he asked.

“Oh, sure. Every Sunday I could make it to church.” Wanting him to know how good she was, she continued. “Folks there said I had the voice of an angel. Churches up over in Lincoln had me come sing at funerals whenever I could make it.”

“Lincoln?”

She nodded. “Lincoln.” The way he frowned said he might not know where that was, so she added, “Nebraska.”

“Oh, yes, Nebraska. I’ve heard of that.” He folded his arms across his chest. “How long have you been in California?”

“Since the train I just got off crossed the state line.” Her heart shot into her throat as he glanced at the door. Afraid he might leave, she asked, “Wanna hear?”

“Hear what?”

“Me sing.” Before he could say no, she drew in a deep breath and let the words flow. “Amazing grace, how sweet...”

She continued through the third verse, then, repeating the final line, she held on to the notes while letting her voice slowly fade away. Others back home liked how she’d always done that.

Folks here must, too, because everyone in the café was looking at her and clapping. Excitement fluttered inside her stomach. She smiled and nodded at them, and then turned her full attention to the man sitting at her table.

“That was very good,” he said when the clapping stopped.

“I know.” Folks had been telling her that for years. “That’s why I’m here.”

Smiling, he nodded. “What is your name?”

“Shirley. Shirley Burnette.”

“Well, Miss Burnette, I’m Roy Harrison.” He stretched a hand across the table. “It’s very nice to make your acquaintance.”

She gave his hand a solid shake. “You, too, Mr. Harrison.”

He leaned back in his chair again. “Miss Burnette, I’d like to offer you the opportunity to audition for some people I know. I’m confident once they hear you, they will offer you a job.”

Her heart nearly stopped right then and there. At the exact same time happiness burst inside her. She’d never been so happy in her entire life. If she hadn’t been sitting down, she’d be jumping up and down like a baby bird learning to fly.

“Do you have accommodations?” Mr. Harrison asked.

Still trying to stay seated, for the excitement inside her was getting harder and harder to control, she held her breath for a moment. “Accommodations? You mean a place to stay?”

“Yes.”

“No, sir, not yet.”

“Well, Miss Burnette, I can help with that, too.”

Oh! Glory be! California is the place to be! Ain’t even—No, haven’t even been here a day and already have a job and a place to live. That guy in the red car might have been right about the boots and the jaywalking, but he sure was wrong about everything else.

* * *

Walter couldn’t get the sassy, country-bumpkin blonde woman out of his head. It had been over two weeks but she was still there. On his mind. He was worried about her. About where she ended up. He’d like to think she’d taken his advice and gone back home, but he highly doubted that. She was too determined to do anything that reasonable.

He’d known another woman like that, and she was dead. It had been four years now; the days had gotten easier, but other things, namely the guilt, had gotten worse. In hindsight, he would have done things differently. Given her the divorce she’d wanted. Maybe then Lucy would still be alive.

He’d been so determined, so set on having everything he’d wanted that he’d not taken the time to realize she hadn’t wanted the same thing. That their marriage had been destined to fail from the start.

That had been exactly what he hadn’t wanted to face.

Failure.

He’d failed once before with Theodore, and like it or not, ultimately, he’d failed with Lucy, too.

“Mr. Russell, do you not care for the beef?”

Walter glanced up, forced a smile to form for Mrs. McCaffrey. “No. I mean, the beef is fine. Excellent. I just find I’m not hungry this evening.”

The twinkle faded from her green eyes as her frown added more wrinkles to her usually jolly face. “I do hope you aren’t coming down with something.”

She was one in a million. Finding Mrs. McCaffrey was one of the things he had done right. She was the best housekeeper in the state, and he was lucky that she’d stuck with him through thick and thin. Her husband had died many years ago, and having no children, she’d dedicated herself to taking care of others. He’d hired her six years ago, before he and Lucy had gotten married, which had proven insightful on his end because Lucy had wanted nothing to do with housekeeping.

Of course she hadn’t. She’d been a star.

He muffled a sigh. “I’m fine. I just had a late lunch. I should have telephoned you, but the afternoon got away from me. I do apologize.”

Mrs. McCaffrey waved a hand and then lifted the serving dish holding several slices of roast beef off the table. “That’s nothing to apologize about. You’re a busy man. The most sought-after lawyer in all of Los Angeles. And this beef will keep just fine for tomorrow night.”

Walter nodded. “I’m sure I’ll be hungry tomorrow night.” He hadn’t had a late lunch; he just wasn’t hungry because his mind was on that girl from Nebraska. He hadn’t been back to that state since he’d left over ten years ago. Not that she was making him homesick. He hoped she was homesick, though, and that she had already gotten on an eastbound train.

It was all rather foolish and out of the ordinary for him to be so worried about a stranger. He’d met hundreds of young women over the years, and never thought twice about the decisions they made. Because those had been their decisions, just like the ones she made were hers—that woman from Nebraska with her short blond hair and big blue eyes.

She didn’t look like anyone he knew, nor did she remind him of someone, of anyone, so there really was no reason for his fixation.

Then again, he’d never almost run someone over before, either.