Lauri Robinson: Baby On His Hollywood Doorstep

That’s what she was really excited for.

Father kissed her cheek as she climbed out of the car. “You want to work at the laundry?” he asked.

Fearful that he’d deny her this, she nodded. “Yes, I do. Very much.”

He smiled and nodded. “All right, then.”

Happiness fully engulfed her. She wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you. Thank you.”

He gave her a tight squeeze and then let her go to take ahold of Mother’s arm. Junior walked beside her as they all headed toward the restaurant. Junior gave her a questioning look, but she kept her eyes forward. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her parents and her brother, she just didn’t like who they were. Who she was. Now that she fully understood. The truth hadn’t shocked her, she’d always known they were different, that her father and brother didn’t have normal jobs.

They were part of the Outfit. All of them. Her parents. Junior. Her. They were one of many families who lived two lives. An outside one, and an inside one.

The noise inside the restaurant filtered out as Father opened the door and Junior held it as they all stepped inside. It was wall-to-wall people. Her uncle Vinnie, a formidable figure, stood on the far side of the room, surrounded by others, and waved at them as they entered.

Mother took ahold of her arm. “Let’s go to the powder room while the men get a drink.”

Helen caught glimpses of people she’d known her entire life, cousins, aunts and uncles as she followed her mother around tables and chairs toward the hallway at the back of the building. Most of them weren’t blood relatives, but were referred to as family because they were all part of the Outfit. Helen wondered if any of the others thought like her. Wanted out of this life before it was too late. That had resonated deep inside her when her cousin Amelia had been mugged by a member of the North End Gang.

More than mugged.

Mother stopped to visit, talking about the new dress she was wearing, and Helen, espying her cousin Karen, kept walking toward the hallway.

“Isn’t this exciting?” Karen asked, clapping her hands with glee. “Your first grown-up party?”

Helen nodded, but kept her honest opinion about that to herself. “I got a job,” she whispered instead.

Karen frowned. “Why?”

Helen open her mouth to reply, but chaos struck just then. It was a moment before she realized what was happening. That the earsplitting rat-a-tat sound was gunfire. Tommy guns. Bullets were flying, glass shattering and people screaming, running, falling.

“Run!”

Someone grabbed her arm, she tried to shake it off, searching for her family, but there were too many people. Too many bullets.

Helen tucked her chin into her neck in order to see over the top of her glasses and get a clear look at the building out of the car window. It wasn’t tall like the hundreds, maybe thousands they’d driven past, nor was it made of bricks or stone like so many of the ones that had taken up miles upon miles of the streets of Los Angeles. The city was larger than she’d imagined. That unsettled her and she hugged the baby sleeping in her arms a bit tighter while attempting to swallow the lump in her throat.

Made of wood, the building sprawled out along the street rather than upward like those downtown, and there were few windows, almost as if they didn’t want people looking inside. Several tall palm trees grew next to the building, and she had to wonder how trees could grow amongst so much concrete and traffic.

“This is the address, ma’am,” the driver repeated.

The streetcars didn’t come this far out, which is why she’d had to hire a taxi, yet there was plenty of traffic traveling up the road toward a gigantic white sign up on the hill. HOLLYWOODLAND.

Drawing in a deep breath, Helen held it until her lungs burned. She checked the knot of the scarf tied beneath her chin, making sure it was tight, then picked up her purse and twisted to step out of the car without juggling Grace too much. Once on the curb, she shifted the baby farther into the crook of her arm in order to slip her purse onto her wrist under the baby so she could take the small suitcase the driver was fetching out of the black-and-green-checkered cab. That suitcase held all of her earthly possessions as well as Grace’s. A shiver rippled her insides, once again making her wonder if she could do this; yet she knew she had to.

“Would you like me to carry this inside for you, ma’am?”

Every nerve in her body was trembling. “No. No. Thank you.” Helen reached out, took the hard-sided case. “Thank you again for the ride.”

“You’re welcome, ma’am, and good luck to you.” He climbed back in the taxicab and pulled away from the curb.

A horn honked as the taxi cut into the traffic and Helen’s stomach sank. Not in criticism of his skills, but at the departure itself. She was here. In California. Taking the last steps of the journey she and Grace had traveled. Once again, as she had a million times already, she wished there was another choice.

There wasn’t.

Her throat swelled up. Grace was such a good baby. Had barely fussed the entire train ride. Only whimpered a bit when she’d been hungry or needed a diaper change. She was adorable too, with her soft fuzzy blond hair and big dark eyes. The wave of sadness that engulfed Helen made her eyes sting.

She approached the building with caution at first but, remembering that Grace would soon need to be fed, her footsteps grew more purposeful.

It seemed odd that the address was for this—a building rather than a residence, a house or an apartment. But this is where Vera had mailed the letters to, so this is where they’d traveled to. She and Grace. All the way from Chicago.

At the door, Helen paused. Star’s Studio was painted on the glass in sparkling gold paint. She had no idea what that would mean for Grace, and had to hope it would be good.

She took another deep breath and grasped the handle.

The door wouldn’t budge.

She tried again. Jiggled the door.

It was locked. Locked. In the middle of the day.

She peered through the window, but it was too dark inside to see anything.

Flustered she stepped back and glanced down at Grace. The baby was still sleeping, yet Helen whispered, “Don’t worry, I won’t just leave you on the doorstep.”

She wouldn’t, but she had prepared herself for this moment—the time where she would turn Grace over and walk away. It was going to break her heart, but the alternative was worse.

The pain of losing her entire family in the raid by the North End Gang on the restaurant two years ago still lived inside her, as did watching Vera die only a few months ago. Pain like that was crippling, but she’d lived through it, and would this, too. Grace’s safety was far more important than anything else.

“If I could keep you, I would,” she whispered to Grace. “But I can’t. You’ll never be safe with me. Never.”

“Mr. McCarney isn’t booking any auditions right now.”

Helen spun around and had to squint through the glasses she’d taken to wearing two years ago. They were part of her disguise, as was the dull baggy dress. Through the blur of the magnified glasses she didn’t need, she made out a woman walking toward her. She was dressed in a sleek, hip-hugging black-and-white-striped dress, complete with matching head scarf tied on the side, and shoes that clicked against the concrete sidewalk.

Another immense wave of everything from heartbreak to fear washed over Helen. “Mr. McCarney is here?” She glanced at the door. “Inside the building?”

The woman stopped next to the door and frowned as her overly long and hard appraisal went from Helen’s toes to the top of her head before it settled on Grace. “Yes, he’s here, but he’s not taking auditions.” The woman inserted a key in the door.