Chapter Twenty-FiveMUSSO & FRANK GRILL, HOLLYWOOD,
July 9, 1929
“Toots, we been futzin’ around long enough,” Harry said. He was in town filming a movie based on “Puttin’ on the Ritz.”
“Whaddya mean?” Clara said, taking a bite of her chicken Marengo.
“Let’s you ’n’ me get hitched. We’re engaged, so let’s get a ring already and do this for real.” Harry tucked into his porterhouse, snapping at the waiter to bring him a bottle of ketchup.
“Then one of us is gonna hafta think about movin’ careers,” Clara said. “You’re the Kinga Broadway, fer Chrissake. You can’t tell me ya wanna move out here.”
“I got nothin’ keepin’ me there. I sold my interest in Club Richman. I can take my title with me. I wanna be wherever you are, Toots.”
Her face lit up the way it did when she read her fan letters.
