Chapter TwentyCLARA’S HOUSE, BEVERLY HILLS, CALIFORNIA,
February 3, 1929
“Hey, Daisy, we’re headin’ to New York,” Clara said, looking in the doorway of the office.
The Big Apple? Now this is exciting!
“Location shoot?” I said, looking up from the grocery bill from Ralph’s. Needing a break, I lit an Old Gold.
“Nah, publicity junket for The Wild Party. Buncha appearances in Brooklyn.”
“Guess I should throw some trunks together,” I said.
“People I know from back then’ll come see me,” she said, her gaze growing serious. “They’ll expect me to be a movie star now, but I’m really the same old me. I don’t wanna disappoint ’em.”
“But that’s what everyone loves about you,” I said. “You haven’t changed. Look at Artie. He still thinks you hung the moon.”
“Artie’s a sweetheart. Always has been
