Chapter 7
Hi everyone, sorry for the wait. Been on vacation and just got back in yesterday after a week off. So I am going to break down a few things. First, this is my longest chapter yet. Over 8000 worlds in fact, with my first attempt at multiple POV's. So tell me how I did. Oh, and FYI, I need a 4th actor for the next movie. Right now, the main cast is Alan Ladd, Hedy Lamarr, and Lizabeth Scott. Now I need someone who hasn't made it big in Hollywood, and all the research takes a lot of time, so if anyone knows anyone, let me know. On another note, I will be adding Jenny Blake from The Rocketeer into the story, but without the Rocketeer stuff. I will just explain it away as a pure coincidence or something like that.
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"I can still vividly remember the first time I saw her. She walked through the door of a little diner, the name of which I can't recall anymore, as if she were gliding on air. She was breathtaking, and I don't just mean in terms of beauty. Of course, Hedy Lamarr was beautiful, but there was something more about her than that. I couldn't quite put my finger on it at the time, but I sensed there was something special about Hedy that extended beyond her extraordinary appearance. While others may not have noticed it, I did, and I will always be grateful that I did. Because if I hadn't, then she wouldn't have been at my side for all those years, and if she hadn't been by my side, then much of what I had dreamed of wouldn't have been possible." – A Dream Come True by Ruth Morris Lucky Luciano.
-1939-
-Ruth POV-
I let out a sigh as I looked at the newspaper one more time. Unfortunately, things had gone exactly as I had predicted they would back in August. "Shane" was a fantastic movie—there was no doubt about it. It ranks among the greatest Westerns of all time, and its box-office success proved it. By the end of its second four-week run, it had grossed an impressive $6.5 million, putting Lucky Pictures firmly in the black. However, as great as "Shane" was, it couldn't compete with "Gone With the Wind," which dethroned it from the top spot at the box office and became the highest-grossing movie of the year within just one week.
It honestly hurt a bit to be trounced so easily and without even putting up much of a fight. That, however, was the power of "Gone With the Wind." As a best-selling book that was turned into a film, it already had an established fan base. Add in the miraculous Clark Gable in the cast, and the film was destined to be a hit. Additionally, MGM's promotional efforts and budget far outshone our own. What we had to cut back on, they could easily afford, making it a far more polished movie than our own. There's no other way to put it. If we had had more time and could have postponed the release of "Shane" by a few months, I was confident we could have cleared at least $10 million, but there was no point in crying over spilled milk. That is, unless your name was Toby, who was at this very moment looking like someone had kicked his puppy. While the rest of us look at him, either shaking our heads or just smiling.
"Well, you please stop looking so depressed. It's not the end of the world, Toby." I say with a smile.
"That's easy for you to say. You are not the one who has just had his heart ripped from his chest and stomped on." Toby says, looking even more downturned.
"Stop being so fucking dramatic. It's just a fucking car." Raimondo says, more than a bit annoyed at Toby's antics.
Toby looks up at Raimondo, who now appears angry, and says, "It's not just a car; it's a 1939 Lagonda V12—my dream car."
Rolling his eyes, Raimondo says, "That is what you said last year about the Bugatti Type 57SC Atlantic and the year before that about the 1937 Mercedes-Benz 540K."
"A man can have more than one dream car," Toby yells out.
"You do realize we have new vehicles now, right?" I point out, but the smile on my face lets Toby know I am making fun of him.
"Oh yeah, I can see it now—me rolling up in a beat-up International D-15 pickup truck at one of the best clubs in LA. Just thinking about it makes me want to kick my own ass," Toby says in a mocking tone.
"Well, you would at least stand out that way," I say in a mocking voice, and he flicks me off for my troubles.
With a sigh, Samuel says, "We have discussed this already, Toby. We can't afford to spend company money on luxury items right now. And yes, that means nobody gets a new car at this time."
"Ruth got a new car," Toby points out.
"Yes, and the moment you become Mr. Siegel, honorary niece and direct a hit movie, you can have a Cadillac Sixteen as well," Samuel says to him flatly.
"You can borrow if you want," I say with a smug grin.
Toby narrows his eyes at me and says, "Brat."
"Screwball," I answer back.
"Cuddle Cutie," Toby shoots back.
"Twit," I say with a forced smile.
"Floozy," Toby answers with a red face.
"Nogoodnik," I say now, feeling heated.
"Enough!" Raimondo yells and slams his hand on the table. "God, you both are giving me a headache."
Toby and I look at each other, smile, then turn back to face Ramiondo and say at the same time, "Yes, Dad."
Shaking his head, Raimondo says, "You both are impossible."
"But you love us," We say sweetly, giving him our best puppy dog eyes.
"Ya like a kick in the balls," Raimondo says.
"Whatever floats your boat," I answer back, and Toby starts to laugh.
Rubbing his head, Samuel says, "Okay, enough with the comedy routine, can we get back to business?"
Looking over at Toby, I shrug my shoulders, and we both take a seat. We had our fun, but Samuel was right; we needed to get back to work.
"Good, now as I was saying. Things didn't go as expected with Shane's 2nd 4-week run." Samuel says.
Letting out a tick, Toby says, "Not shit. We got knocked off the top in less than a day. Fucking Gone With the Wind. I still don't see the big deal about that movie. It wasn't any better than Shane."
"Are you fucking kidding me? Have you seen the movie yet?" I ask Toby.
Don't get me wrong, I appreciated his words, but the fact of the matter was that "Gone With the Wind" blew away Shane: hands down, KO in the first round. It sucked, but those were the facts.
"Ya, I have, and it ain't no better than Shane," Toby says again.
I roll my eyes and say, "The people would disagree."
"The people are stupid then," Toby asserts, his frustration evident, though there's a playful tone underlying his anger.
Before another playful fight can start, Raimondo interrupts, "It doesn't matter which is better than the other. The fact is, it's over. It's time to put Shane away and move on. Samuel, give us the final numbers."
Samuel opens his book and states, "Final tally: Shane earned 6.5 million dollars. After taxes, paying Miss Arthur her share, hiring new staff, maintenance costs, purchasing a small fleet of trucks, and compensating Mr. Lansky, we have 2.2 million dollars in cash remaining."
Whistling lowly, Toby says, "And you say I can't afford a new car."
"All of that will be tied up in investments, Toby. We can't touch it till after our next hit." I say to him.
"Which reminds me, we need to determine our budget for the next movie. Samuel has estimated that we'll need at least $800,000 for production, plus an additional $200,000 for renting theaters and promotion," Raimondo says.
"So basically the same amount as Shane," Toby says.
"More actually. I want to add $100,000 for promotion. Even if Ruth can help us save money during filming like she did last time, I don't want to take any chances. So I feel an additional $100,000 would go a long way towards earning us our 2nd hit at the box office." Raimondo says.
"So, a 1.1-million-dollar budget then. That is a lot of money," Toby says, unsure if we should spend so much on our next movie.
Last time was a gamble. A huge gamble and this time would be too, but the difference lay in the circumstances. Last time, they had nothing to lose except their lives, which were not that good to start with. Now they had 2.2 million dollars to lose. Even Toby, with his devil-may-care attitude, was hesitant to make such a gamble again.
"Actually, it's really not that much. A couple of days ago, I went to see Jack. We talk for a bit, and he expresses interest in investing in our next movie. He is willing to invest $250,000 in our next film, " I say to them.
I am, of course, referring to Jack Dragna, the head of the L.A. Mafia and a close associate of my father. He was impressed with the success of my film "Shane." And while he didn't invest in it, he congratulated me while also hinting that he wanted in. Seeing as I doubled my Godfather's, invested as far as he knew it was too tempting a chance to pass up. The way he saw it, if I could achieve a similar success with my next movie, that would be clean money in his bank account. However, Dragna was a cautious man and wasn't willing to match my Godfather's last investment. That said, I would have to be a fool to turn him down. Not because I couldn't. Because I could if I really wanted to, but because, with his support, I would be protected from not only his men but the major studios, unions, and small-time gangs.
Of course, the boys had mixed feelings about this, but didn't speak up. Knowing it was already a done deal the moment I said it, after all, who were they to say no to the mob?
"Well, that is something, I guess. That means we only have to cover $850,000 now. We can manage that," Samuel says, trying to let the moment pass.
Toby, however, doesn't plan to let it go. But instead of making a complaint, he says, "Since we seem to be ignoring the obvious issue here, I'm going to be direct. Ruth, if we are going to continue doing business with the mob, is there any chance that Mr. Siegel or Mr. Lansky would be willing to invest as well?"
Smiling at Toby for his willingness to jump into the fire without thinking too much about it, I say, "I am heading up to New York in a few days to visit my father."
I don't need to say more as they know what that means. It means I will be visiting my Godfather while I am up there.
"That reminds me, Raimondo. Is it a done deal yet? Do we have Miss Lamarr? And if so, how much did it cost us?" Samuel asks. While Ruth may want her for her next movie, he doesn't want to pay an exorbitant amount for her.
"I met with Mr. Mayer yesterday and hammered out the last few details. He has agreed to loan us Miss Lamarr for $10,000 in cash. I get the impression that he isn't quite sure what to do with her yet, so he believes that more exposure would be beneficial for her. Especially since "Shane" was such a big hit, people will be looking forward to our next movie," Raimondo says, trying to be diplomatic while conveying what was really discussed behind closed doors.
"And what did he really say?" I ask with a knowing smile.
Taking a moment to lick his lips, Raimondo says, "He mentioned that it wasn't a bad idea to capitalize on a little girl's good luck, but I should consider working for him before you inevitably fail."
I laugh and say, "Smart man."
That's all I say, but the boys seem to become very uncomfortable for some reason.
"What about Jean?" I ask to move the meeting along.
"She has officially signed with Columbia. I couldn't find out how much, but I think we should close the door on her. It will cost far too much to get her own loan at this point." Raimondo says with a sour face.
Letting out a sigh, I say, "That is too bad, but my roommate will be happy at least. How about Alan?"
"We sent him an offer by way of his agent. No word back yet, but I have been poking around, and he seems interested in signing on, but…" Raimondo starts to say, and Toby finishes for him.
"But the major studios are interested in him as well."
"It's not surprising; he did a great job in Shane, and although his acting is still a bit raw, his performance was fantastic." I think for a moment and then continue, "Toby, start looking for our next male lead. If Alan doesn't sign on, I don't want to be caught flat-footed."
"You got it, Ruth. I actually have some people in mind already." Toby says.
"Good. Now, if you will excuse me, unlike all of you, I have a date with a lady," I say with a teasing smile, which earns me a groan of annoyance from the boys.
-POV Hedy Lamarr-
As I sat across from the young woman in her tailored dress and fur coat, I couldn't help but notice how Ruth Luciano seemed to embody the picture-perfect girl of her time. At first glance, she appeared sweet and innocent, and even her soft-spoken greeting led me to believe she was just a kind, albeit shy, girl. However, once she settled into her seat across from me in the Tea Room, my initial assumptions about her—of being sweet, innocent, and shy—quickly vanished.
It was her eyes if I was being honest with myself. Those deep sea-green eyes concealed a dangerous level of cunning and ruthlessness. Having heard the rumors circulating in Hollywood about who Ruth's father was, I took the time to visit the local library to look at pictures of the man known as Lucky Luciano. I can honestly say that even just looking at a picture of the man made my heart race—not in admiration, but in fear. Even in a photograph, Mr. Luciano exuded an aura of tightly controlled danger. He was a ruthless man who would not hesitate to kill to get what he wanted.
Ruth's eyes mirrored the ones I had seen in those pictures. Although the danger was better concealed, it was still present. I couldn't help but wish Ruth had been in the same room with Louis when he told me I would be working for her on her next movie. The unflattering comments he made about her surely wouldn't have been well received. Louis liked to present himself as a strong, powerful, and assertive man to those beneath him, but something told me he would think twice before trying that approach with Ruth. At the very least, if he were half as smart as he believed himself to be, he would.
"See something you like, Miss Lamarr?" Ruth asks, with a playful smile on her lips, after we get past the basic greetings.
"Hmm," I say, like waking up from a dream, and say, "Yes, excuse me, I was just admiring your eyes, Miss Luciano, they are…" I pause for a bit, trying to find the right word, and finally settle for "intense."
Smiling at the compliment, Ruth says, "Why, thank you, Miss Lamarr."
"Please call me Hedy, Miss Luciano," I say with a soft smile.
"Only if you agree to call me Ruth." She says with her own smile.
It was a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, but I ignored it and said, "Very well, Ruth."
"You know, I always liked to think I have my mother's eyes. Soft, gentle, and kind, but a lot of people tell me they are more like my father's." Ruth continues, and I pick up on the hidden meaning.
Yes, she was every bit her father's daughter, and, worse yet, knew it. Only she was a different type of beast. Something new, something better, maybe even worse.
"I can see that," I say back to her, and plan to drop the subject, only for her to say.
"You have pretty eyes, too. Very intelligent." Ruth says to me.
That was an unusual opinion. I have often been told that my eyes are seductive, or something along those lines. But no one had ever described them as intelligent. It was nice to hear.
"Oh, you think so?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.
Nodding her head, Ruth says, "Definitely."
Feeling a bit flattered, I say, "Thank you."
"You're welcome. My father often told me that the eyes are the best way to determine if someone is worth your time. I must say, Hedy, you are worth all the time in the world," Ruth says.
I laugh a bit at that as well as blush slightly and say, "Please, Ruth, there is no need for such flattery. You already have me for your next movie."
"Oh no, please understand me, Hedy. I'm not trying to flatter you. In my opinion, any girl can be glamorous; all it takes is standing still and looking pretty. However, the truly exceptional ones have more to offer than looks. You possess depth beyond your appearance, and I'm eager to discover what lies behind those intelligent eyes," Ruth says.
In that moment, for the first time since my father passed away, I felt that someone truly saw me—not as they wanted to see me, but for who I really was. I wasn't sure how to process that feeling. However, as lunch continued, I found Ruth to be an engaging woman with a wealth of ideas about making motion pictures. She had a fascinating idea for now: to incorporate cameras and lighting, as well as ideas for using radio-controlled technology to take aerial shots. Ideas that reach well beyond the current limits of what technology can achieve.
Her ideas are truly remarkable, albeit somewhat far-fetched, but they had sparked my interest and raised a question: Could I use my frequency-hopping concept to make Ruth's ideas feasible? Implementing her ideas would require a complete rethinking of how wireless technology operates, as well as significant downsizing, since modern cameras are too heavy to fly. Additionally, Ruth would need to devise a way to transmit images captured in the sky to the ground in real time; otherwise, the director and cinematographer wouldn't know which images were being recorded until after the shoot. Could I potentially use wireless technology to send pictures from the camera to that television device I had heard about?
I wasn't sure, but it did get me thinking. Even if it were possible, picture quality would be a significant concern. The camera would need to have zoom capabilities and adjustable lighting settings. This would require an entirely new type of camera—one that is lightweight enough to fly while still retaining most of the functions of a modern film camera. Although this seems like a very tall order, I realized that it is achievable. Maybe not today, tomorrow, or even ten years from now, but it was possible.
While I am thinking about all this, I take a moment to look at Ruth, who has this smile on her face. A smile that says loud and clear, I got you.
-Alan Ladd-
After exiting the movie theater with my head held high, I couldn't help but feel that I had done well—no, I was great, in fact. People often say that pride is a sin, but is it still a sin if it's justifiable pride? I mean, "Shane" was a tremendous hit, and my own skill as an actor contributed significantly to its success. Sure, I would acknowledge that it was primarily Ruth's vision and directing skills that made it shine, but I was still good. There was no denying that, and the number of studio offers I was receiving proved it. That's why I was having such a hard time deciding what to do next.
On the one hand, I didn't particularly appreciate the so-called blooper reels at the end of the movie credits, which showcased many of my mistakes and those of my fellow cast members. However, I couldn't deny their effectiveness, especially considering that the first blooper featured the now-famous punch that made waves around Hollywood. I acknowledge that most fight scenes in movies, even my favorites, often seem fake when you watch them.
Shane's fight scenes, however, looked incredibly realistic. In fact, they blurred the line between what was fake and what was real. While there were still some moments that felt completely unrealistic, there was no denying that my fight scenes were undeniably superior. They had their moments of doubt, but the shot where I actually got punched by Jake for real added to the scene's authenticity, as proven by the interviews I had done.
One of the most common questions I received during interviews with newspapers and radio stations was about how much that punch had hurt. In the movie "Shane," the protagonist just kept going after being hit. However, in the blooper reel, you can see my head snap to the side, and I nearly fell. It was honestly a brutal hit to watch, but it was worth the pain because it earned me the title of Hollywood's toughest actor. This reputation was further solidified when I fell off a horse during another scene and got back up quickly, holding my fist up to signal that I was alright when asked. Something that was quickly becoming the universal signal that you were okay after you got hurt.
Of course, Ruth, being who she was, had to include the part where I dropped my gun during a take. This incident frustrated me a lot, but it also inadvertently made me more famous in a positive way. I'm not stupid. Even before I started in the business, Hollywood wasn't as glamorous as it seemed; studios were cautious about building up the image of the flawless leading men. Ruth, however, took a different approach by doing something completely taboo in Hollywood. She pulled back the curtain, so to speak, allowing people to see beyond the glitz and glamour.
By doing this, she made the audience feel like they were part of the filmmaking process, fostering a sense of belonging to something greater than themselves. It also showed them that even their heroes were not infallible. It was brilliant, really. Even now, when kids see me on the streets, they ask how I keep going after getting hurt or making embarrassing mistakes. I respond that everyone makes mistakes, but it's only the greats who don't let those setbacks keep them down. No matter how hard it gets, I will succeed next time.
Yet that was now in the past. Everything that had transpired over the last month was behind me. Shane was gradually being pulled from theaters as "Gone With the Wind" took over. Now it was time to look toward the future, and it seemed bright. I had become a rising star in Hollywood, and the studios were lining up to hire me. However, while the future appeared clear, it was anything but, as I struggled with my next steps.
Lucky Pictures sent me their offer a few days ago, offering $25,000 per year for 5 years. This was $25,000 less than what Paramount was offering and $35,000 less than MGM. It was even less than Columbia's offer of $30,000 a year for six years. Yet, Lucky Pictures was providing something that the other studios would not: a 1% share of the box office.
I wasn't naïve; I knew the major studios would never agree to let me receive a share of the box office receipts, regardless of how well I performed in "Shane." However, I had seen the Los Angeles Times article about how Jean earned $130,000 in royalties from her 2 percent deal with Lucky Pictures. While it wasn't an enormous sum, it was still surprising to hear about in Hollywood. Actors typically do not receive a percentage of the box office profits. It just wasn't the norm, or if it was, I certainly had never heard of it.
Even at just 1%, that would have amounted to $65,000 if it had been included in my own contract when I was hired to be in Shane. That, combined with my regular salary, exceeded the $75,000 MGM was currently offering me for a three-year deal. Additionally, Lucky Pictures had included a three-picture guarantee, along with a right of refusal for any film after the first three. Considering the favorable conditions, Lucky Pictures seemed like the better option.
However, I had to weigh the possibility of failure. What Ruth accomplished with Shane was, in many ways, a miracle. I was there and witnessed firsthand the lengths Ruth had to go to in order to make the movie happen. She had worked tirelessly to create a film with a crew she wasn't familiar with—a hastily assembled team and no producer to speak of. While Toby was there to help as much as he could and did an excellent job, in the end, it all rested on Ruth's shoulders.
It was a true testament to her character and drive to succeed that she managed to pull it off at all. This was something to be admired, but the lingering question remained: could she do it again? Lucky Pictures was a small operation, still in its infancy. If I took this deal and it all fell apart, who knew how long it would be before I got another opportunity like this? Ultimately, it came down to whether I was willing to risk everything for the sake of a dream held by one determined girl.
Stopping in the middle of the road and looking up at the sky, I say to myself, "Fuck it. I am still young, and what is life without a little risk?"
-Ruth POV-
"I really am just a little girl at heart," I thought to myself as I held onto my father's arm while we watched Shane together in the theater room at Clinton Correctional Facility. The feeling of my face against his strong arm, snuggling against him like I did when I was a little girl, made me feel safe and warm. It might sound strange to others, considering who my father is. To the outside world, he was a cold and calculating man, but that was only towards others. He was never that way with me.
Oh, sure, he got mad at me from time to time. Boy, did he get angry — but only in the way a father does when his child does something wrong. It was never in a way that would lead to something truly terrible. Strangely enough, to outsiders, a man like my father, who had never wanted children, turned out to be a relatively good father. He wasn't the best by any means, but he taught me what I needed to know, just as my uncle Siegel had. How else do you think I was able to walk into a correctional facility to watch a movie with my dad? Money spoke volumes, and everyone had a price.
As the film comes to an end and the lights come back on in the room, I turn to my dad and ask, "Well, Daddy, what do you think?" I say this with a mix of excitement and worry, hoping he enjoyed it.
My dad, who never lets his emotions show, takes off his glasses and replies, "It was good, darling. In fact, it was excellent. I can see why it earned over 6 million at the box office."
As I got up, I spun around the room with good cheer and said, "Right. I had to cut so many corners on this project, though. The outfits were all second-hand and poorly made. The makeup was terrible too—not so bad that I couldn't make it work, but it was cheap and smeared easily. We had to pause nearly every time after a take to reapply it."
"And despite all these challenges, you still risked everything on this movie," my dad said in a cold voice. His authoritative tone made me freeze for a moment.
While my dad would never hurt me, he still had an intimidating presence. Especially when the boss, Lucky Luciano, came out to say hello. They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but no matter how hard I tried, I knew I would never measure up to the real thing.
With that, I smile and say, "It was worth the risk."
"Was it?" my father asks. "You played with the lives of those who willingly followed you, Ruth—lives that could have been lost while you would have walked away."
"And yet they live, and our position is stronger than ever," I reply with a smile.
"Meyer is not happy. He feels that you have made a fool of him in front of his men," my father points out.
"Yet he walks away with three million dollars in hand. His men can think what they want; they don't know about the deal we struck behind closed doors. All they know is that Godfather Meyer invested four million dollars in a film studio and got most of his money back on the first movie. If anything, Godfather looks like a genius to them." I say, still smiling.
"So that's why you asked for a private meeting instead of discussing it in front of his men. You always planned to go for broke, didn't you, my daughter?" Lucky asks.
"Yep. Are you proud of me?" I reply with a sweet smile.
Letting out a huff, my father stands up and says, "You are smart, Ruth. Sometimes, too smart for your own good."
"They don't call us Lucky for nothing, Daddy," I say, giggling a bit.
I would never know how my dad truly felt about my reckless risk-taking, but he never let his emotions interfere with business. So instead of dwelling on that, he shifts his focus to the present moment.
"Tell me about your next move," my father demands. He doesn't ask, as he never requests anything from me or anyone, really.
"My plan is simple: make another movie and have another hit. If it really comes down to it this time, I will use the strategies I mentioned to Godfather to guarantee a profit. However, I don't believe it will come to that. I now have a mostly complete crew. Instead of having to improvise and think on my feet, the boys and I will delegate more roles to free ourselves up."
"And what about the major studios?" my father asks.
"They're being cautious, especially now that Mr. Dragna has heavily invested in my next film," I reply.
"How much has he invested?" my father inquires.
"A quarter of a million dollars," I answer.
Nodding his head, my father begins to walk around the room. "Good, good. It's always wiser to risk someone else's money rather than your own. Do you have any thoughts on where you'll get the rest?"
"I was hoping that Godfather Meyer would lend me the rest. If not, maybe Uncle Siegel could help. He wasn't interested the first time around, but he might be this time; after all, he is practically family," I respond.
"Meyer won't be easy to persuade. You're going to have to really butter him up and turn on the charm, Ruth, if you want him to reinvest," my father says, and I know he's right.
Nothing hurts a man's ego more than a woman running over it with a truck, which is more or less what I did. However, I'm not worried that he won't back me. Godfather Meyer is a businessman above all else. He will recognize the opportunity presented before him. Still, as my father said, it's best to placate him now rather than risk hurting our relationship.
"I was planning to visit him after I leave here. I have business in New York anyway," I tell my father.
My father doesn't question the nature of my business. He already knows that I've been recruiting men from the Mob to work for me at my studio. They may not be essential figures, but I would be foolish to trust the L.A. Mob or the major studios to leave me alone forever. Eventually, I will need the muscle. Besides, not everyone in the Mob wants to remain in that line of work forever.
"Speaking of visiting someone, your mother sent me a letter. She mentioned that you haven't visited in a while and even missed Thanksgiving dinner," my father said, making me wince slightly.
It's an undeniable truth that children from broken homes or divorced parents often have a strong desire to see their family reunited. I was no different; even after two lifetimes, I longed for that sense of wholeness. I'm not sure if my first family was ever truly complete, but as a little girl, I had wished more than anything for my mom and dad to be together. It was my greatest desire, even though I knew deep down that it wasn't possible. That bridge had been burned long ago.
Needless to say, after years of my mother and stepfather barely exchanging more than two words with each other, I wasn't pleased to see them suddenly start talking again. Especially since I had nothing to do with them being on speaking terms, that credit went to my stepfather, whom my mom married when I was 12.
My stepfather was, in a word, unremarkable. Yet somehow, he managed to charm my still-gorgeous mother into marrying him. I want to make it clear that I don't describe him as unremarkable because I hated him; in fact, I felt almost nothing about him at all. Compared to someone like my father, he was the kind of person you could easily forget or overlook. Just one more face in a crowd of faces.
Perhaps that was why my mother married him. I was unsure if she loved him; in fact, I was pretty sure she didn't. She liked him, sure, but love, no, I don't think so. And it wasn't hard to understand why. For a woman like my mother, who had a child out of wedlock, there was a heavy burden to bear—much like wearing a scarlet letter. She was beautiful, but she also faced judgment and was seen as 'tainted' in the eyes of society. Many men lusted after her, but few wanted to marry her. Those who did either ran away when they found out about me or didn't want me around. Some even tried to convince my mother to send me to live with my grandparents or to some other relative because they didn't want to take care of someone else's child. They didn't last long, and more than one of them ended up in the hospital after I told either my uncle or my father about their behavior. Yes, I am a vindictive bitch, I know, but sue me. Talk shit, and you will find out how far I am willing to go when you try to fuck with my family.
My stepfather, however, was different. He was a good man who genuinely loved my mother, no matter what her past was. That made her happy, and for that reason alone, I could tolerate him, though I could never truly like him. To me, he would always be the man who stood in the way of my hopeless dream of a family that would never be. Even worse, he managed to do something I was unable to accomplish, no matter how hard I tried: he got my mother to start talking to my father again. I wouldn't call them friends, but they were communicating, and it annoyed me.
"I've been busy," I reply.
"Busy, huh?" my father says, seeing right through me with ease. "Ruth, listen, I know you don't like Michael, but he's a good man and takes care of your mother, brother, and sister."
I click my tongue at this. I know for a fact that my father doesn't like Michael either. It bothers me when he sides with them, but while he may not like Michael, he doesn't hate him either. If that were the case, Michael would already be dead. In fact, my father is grateful to him for getting my mother to speak to him again, even if only as distant acquaintances.
Taking a deep breath, I say, "I know."
"And yet you still let your childish feelings get the better of you," my father says.
I frown but let out a sigh of defeat. "Fine, I will go visit as soon as I get back from New York."
"Good girl," my father replies.
Before he can relax, I turn to him with my own frown and ask, "Now, Daddy, have you been practicing the exercises I sent you?"
When my father's eyes narrow in annoyance, I smile. Oh yes, old man. Don't think for a moment that I don't know you're skipping those. My past self seemed to love watching things called documentaries. So I knew my father died at the age of 64—a good age overall for a man of this time and lifestyle. But I'm dammed if I let him die of a heart attack. No way, in hell was I letting that happen. I may not know what caused it, but I knew a lack of exercise and poor diet played a role.
"So yes, old man, you will be eating right and exercising. Or my name isn't Ruth Morris Luciano," I thought with an evil grinon my face.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Well, my father had predicted it," I thought to myself. My godfather was not happy with me; not happy at all. Despite the check he received from Lucky Pictures, it wasn't easy to convince him to invest in another movie. I didn't blame him, though. The movie business is, after all, a high-risk, low-reward venture. Realistically, Shane shouldn't have been the hit that it was, and my godfather should have lost his entire investment. He didn't, but he could have, which made him hesitant.
After hours of apologizing and preparing several home-cooked meals, which I was pretty skilled at, he finally agreed to cover the remaining amount for my next movie. However, he insisted that I provide him with the numbers. Although Shane had been an unexpected box-office success, I was confident that my next film was almost certain to turn a profit due to several favorable factors.
The main reason people were interested was that Alan had recently joined us and was really in demand. He might not have been as iconic as Clark Gable, but folks were curious about his next move. "Boom Town," a neo-western, was a solid pick for him, and people wanted to know what it was all about.
Another reason for the buzz was my gender. Even though I'm a woman in a guy-dominated world, people were curious about what I'd create next. In a society that often overlooks women, I was something different—something interesting. Women would come to see "Boom Town" because they could relate to me, and while we can be tough on each other, my unique perspective kept most of the negativity at bay for now.
As for everyone else, well, Boom Town was an overall good movie from what I could remember. I may not know how well it did at the box office because my memories provided only limited information, but I had little doubt it did well. All I had to do was pick the right actors.
One of whom was currently under me while I kissed her neck and ran my hands up and down her exposed side. It went without saying that my relationship with Liz had moved forward. I mean, the biggest hit was that we were lying on the same bed clad only in our lingerie. Well, she was in her lingerie, and I was as naked as the day I was born. Between the two of us, I knew what I wanted and had no problems going after it, and I wanted her. When she first moved in, I had started slow. Wearing less or more revealing clothes around the apartment and doing yoga in my underwear, then fully naked. Gradually getting her used to my nakedness, till she had no problem with it.
Then, of course, I moved on to more physical activities. We were already kissing here and there. Light pecks, some light and heavy petting over our clothes, then once I started to remove my own around the house, I pushed forward. Either letting her touch me at her desire or having her touch me. Did that make me a piece of meat from time to time when Liz had the sudden urge to touch me? Sure, but for a woman who was so deep in denial of her own sexuality, I didn't mind being that piece of meat for her to explore.
In fact, I enjoyed teasing her and loved it when she slapped my ass when I would go too far. It was a sign that she was breaking. Little by little, bit by bit, she was giving in to her feelings for me. Now, not only did we make out on the bed while she was half naked and I was completely naked, but we also slept in the same bed at least once or twice a week.
Sadly, we still hadn't fucked, but we were close. It wasn't that long now as I felt her hands run down my back towards my ass cheeks. Feeling her nails dig into them as she moaned when I suck on her pulse point.
Moving my lips from her neck to her ear, I say, "Mmmmm, now this is a welcome home love. Did you miss me so much?"
Pushing me up with fire in her eyes, Liz flips us over and says, "Will you just shut up?"
Then she gives me a hungry kiss while running her hand up my thigh, and side till she gets to my naked breasts and cups them. Teasing my nipple and making me moan under her.
As for Liz, she was trying. She really was trying not to let her emotional upbringing get in the way of her feelings. She wasn't stupid; she knew she was in love with Ruth. In love with a woman, despite how sinful it was, but she couldn't help it. She was the moth, and Ruth was the flame that pulled her in. Ruth's relentless teasing pushed her to the edge. A dangerous edge that, if Liz weren't careful, she would happily fall over. Yet while she would have been happy to, Liz also was scared to. Too afraid to allow herself to take that one last step over the cliff of her desire.
After a long while and with great effort, Liz pulls back, ending the kiss and removing her hands. Hands that were getting dangerously close to Ruth's womanhood. Right now, they were on Ruth's tight stomach. Her soft but hard stomach that Liz can't help but lean down and give a kiss. "God, she was perfect," Liz thought to herself. That was one of the things Liz hated the most about Ruth. She was so strong yet still had the grace and softness of a woman. Things that Liz liked the most in a person.
Getting up off Ruth, Liz hears Ruth moan in satisfaction despite not getting off. So why was she satisfied? Because, like Liz, Ruth knew that they were one step closer to finally making love to each other.
Lying there spread out and making no effort to get dressed, unlike Liz, I smile as she looks back at me. Her eyes went from the tip of my toes to my shaved womanhood, to my tight C-cup tits and full lips.
"Sure, you don't want to continue, babe?" I ask softly.
There is no teasing in my voice. The fact that Liz had greeted me when I walked through the front door when I got home from New York in the lingerie I had made for her. Lingerie that she both liked and found very revealing was a bit of a step for her. I don't want to say Liz was a prude, but wearing what I made for her didn't come easily to her.
As she is putting on her skirt, Liz looks back at me once more, and I can see temptation enter her eyes. But as quickly as it comes, it leaves, and she says, "I should get dinner going."
I sigh as she walks out of the room, and after a few more moments of lying there naked trying to get a hold of my desires, I stand up, grab a robe, and put it on. While I was not a celebrity just yet, I had done a few interviews with some newspapers and magazines. Not important ones, just some women's magazines like Cosmopolitan and Woman's Weekly. All small articles that were buried in the back pages, but that didn't mean one overzealous paparazzi wouldn't be around. A photo of me naked would sell for a reasonable amount, and if my activities with Liz got out, it would be big news. It was why, when I walked into the living room, I made sure all the curtains were closed.
Going to the table, I sit down and smile as I watch Liz start to cook. It was very blissful, and I could see why men loved having a woman around to cook for them. There was just something so appalling about having a woman at home waiting for you. Though in this case, it would not last long. Liz was destined to be a movie star, not a housewife, sadly.
"Ruth, do you ever feel dirty when we…. Well, you know." Liz asks me.
"I would hope so. I mean, that is the point of sexual acts, doll." I say with a teasing smile.
Looking over at me with an uneasy look on her face, Liz says, "That is not what I mean."
Tilting my head to the side, I ask, "Then what do you mean?"
"Of course she didn't get it," Liz thought to herself. Why would she, after all? Ruth was not a religious person. She may have been born to a Catholic mother, but you only had to talk to her for a bit to realize she didn't believe in their Lord and Savior.
"I mean, sinful," Liz says.
"Oh boy, here we go again." I think to myself. It always happened after we got done pushing things a bit further in our relationship. Liz would get that look of worry and doubt on her face. Though she usually wouldn't talk to me about it. She would just go to church, pray, ask for forgiveness, then come home. Clearly, this latest advancement in our relationship had shaken her more than usual.
Now the question was how to handle this? It was a delicate situation, and while I was good at being delicate, this was one of those moments where I didn't know how to proceed. I couldn't just tell her not to worry about it or ignore it now, could I?
After a few more moments, I settle for honesty, "No, not at all."
Looking at me for any signs of lying, Liz says, "I had guessed as much."
I shrug my shoulders and say, "Call me a sinful person, Liz, but I just don't see my feelings for you as a sin and never will. If I am going to hell for loving the wrong person, then so be it. I don't really care."
"Now, can you not care?" Liz asks, a bit angry. She didn't understand how Ruth could so easily dismiss their relationship as something bad.
"Because I have more important things to worry about. Like my next movie." I say with a smile, watching as a sudden realization crosses her face.
Her look of worry quickly changes to one of excitement. Liz asks, "So it's set. You got the funding from your Godfather."
"I did," I say with a smile.
Outside of the boys, Liz was my closest confidant. She didn't know nearly as much as they did, but I did share quite a bit with her. Even though we had not been together that long, in fact, we would be hitting a year soon. "I will have to get her something." I think to myself.
Standing up, I walk over to her and lean in. "Now stop thinking about useless things, babe. You're going to be a star soon. That is all that matters right now."
I then lean forward and give her one last passionate kiss. One that she is happy to receive and match in kind.