The Blue Butterfly, page 11
After toast and coffee, my stomach felt infinitely better. By eight-thirty, I was at Paramount Studios in my dressing room, staring at myself in the mirror and fixing my resolve to leave WR. I hung my head in defeat, knowing how difficult it would be to extricate myself and my family from him. A knock on my dressing room door brought me back to reality.
“Ready, Miss Davies?”
“Yes, five minutes,” I said, continuing to stare at myself in the mirror. I poured myself an orange juice and eyed the vodka on the drink cart in the corner. It was only 9 a.m., but I needed a splash. I then stood in front of the mirror to try on a smile—I needed to act my way through the day. My smile looked fake, but after guzzling another orange juice and vodka, a natural smile came easier and I felt my bones loosen up. Grabbing the black wig for my dual role as Lucía, I put it on and marched onto the set, ready for my ethereal reincarnation close-up.
After four grueling hours of doing my scenes, I was taking a late liquid lunch in my dressing room when Norman opened the door looking tanned and clean. His black hair was slicked back, and his thin black shirt showed the muscles I fell asleep dreaming about.
“Come have a drink with me. I’m celebrating the end of this picture.”
He squinted at me and cocked his head to the side. “It’s a bit premature, don’t you think? I’m not done shooting yet, and you still have one more scene to do.”
“Have a drink with me now.” My speech was slurred as I raised my glass high in the air and crushed out a cigarette in the overflowing ashtray.
“What are we drinking?” he asked, closing the door behind him.
“I don’t know. Everything’s over there. I’m drinking gin,” then added, “now.” I patted the seat next to me on the sofa.
“Now?” he said.
“Yes, now,” I answered impatiently. “This morning I drank vodka, and now I’m drinking gin. Okay?” I asked with a challenge in my voice.
“Okay, Sweetheart,” he said.
“Was there something in that kiss we shared the other day, or was it just me?” I asked.
He looked at me sideways with a small grin as he put ice into his glass.
“You know, more heat or something?”
“You mean the one on the deck?” he asked.
“Yes, that’s the one. Hurry up, make the drink,” I demanded.
“What’s the hurry?” He sat down next to me, and the smell of the ocean enveloped me.
“You smell good,” I said, rubbing my hand up and down his leg.
“Thanks, but what about the big guy?”
“He smells like musk.” I laughed a little too loud. “And right now I hate the smell of musk. Make me another drink,” I ordered as I lit a cigarette.
“Haven’t you had enough?”
“Nope. Never enough.”
“What happened?” he asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I hung my head.
“Let me catch up with you at least.” He downed his drink in three gulps.
“There’s no time to catch up.”
I wanted to see his tanned chest, feel his fresh skin on mine, and for us to dive deep into each other. I began unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time, searching his face for affection. He fumbled with the buttons on my blouse and pulled me close. We slid down on the sofa and into each other’s arms. His kiss was warm and welcoming as we found our bodies fitting together nicely. I ran my hands down his strong back, helping him push his pants down as he slid my skirt up. We were moving and melting with every thrust, me nuzzling into his neck which smelled of the beach and sunshine. We climaxed and the fog of sleep descended so heavily on me I couldn’t fight it.
A knock on the door interrupted my light after-sex doze on Norman’s chest. “Miss Davies, you have a delivery,” a stage boy said.
Norman shook me gently. “Princess, get up.”
“Bah! The delivery’s only flowers, or a present from him. I don’t want that. I want this,” I pouted, as I snuggled deeper into Norman’s side.
“We must get up and get ready. We each have one more scene to shoot,” Norman insisted, pulling away from me.
“Will there be more kissing?” I smiled at him with my eyes closed.
“Nope, no more kissing on set today. Maybe we can see each other this evening.”
“Maybe,” I said as the door closed and Norman left.
Fifteen minutes later, I opened my dressing room door to see a five-piece string orchestra. The violin player stood up and asked, “Marion Davies?”
“Yes. Who are you?” I walked toward them.
“We’re the Marion Davies Orchestra.” They began playing “The Blue Danube Waltz,” the song WR and I had danced to the very first evening I went to his apartment. My knees felt weak. How could he do this to me? I sucked in a deep breath and held it. A young boy handed me an envelope. The note inside read:
“TO THE LOVE OF MY LIFE. HOPE THEY’RE PLAYING OUR SONG.—WR”
I felt nauseous and lightheaded and couldn’t imagine how I could face WR. I nodded at the musicians and returned to my dressing room, which still smelled of liquor and Norman. I sat on the couch slumped in shame.
I finished my final scene that afternoon and without a word to WR or Norman, skulked away to New York. Drinking myself into near oblivion each of the five days the train pushed across the country, I arrived at Mama’s house beaten and bruised inside.
A telegram waited for me from WR: “Where did you go? I came to the hotel, but you had checked out.”
I couldn’t answer. A few days later, I received ten dozen red roses and a note:
“The Bungalow is on the bum,
The studio is stupid.
For life is slow unless there’s some
Companionship with Cupid.
Mars is all right to strive and fight
And from our foes to screen us
But there are times when thoughts and rhymes
Turn longingly to Venus.
So while I write with much delight
Of armies and of navies
The sweetest thing of which I sing
The Muse to whom my soul I fling
The Idol to whose feet I cling
Is lovely Marion Davies.”
I met WR at the penthouse the following day. He was at the table working when I arrived. “Did you get my poem? I wrote it myself, for you.”
I nodded and he came to me and kissed my neck.
“I hate the hold she has on you. It’s stronger than the hold I have on you.”
“No it isn’t, my darling. I swear it.”
But I knew differently. My affair with Norman helped me see the way I needed to take care of myself. However unconventional it was, I needed to find my own way to deal with being rejected and shoved aside. I could share part of my life with WR and still have my own life.
Pieces of the puzzle I had struggled with for years finally came into view. The last piece was inserted when WR abandoned me to be with Millicent and the boys, and I ended up in the arms of Norman. I could see the life I would always have, as second choice, even if WR continually promised me I was his first choice.
I saw the whole picture and began to deal with it.
CHAPTER 15
NEW YORK HARBOR, OCTOBER 1921
The weather was unpredictable in New York City. One week it was cold, the next balmy again—almost exactly like my relationship with WR these past fifteen months. Finally accepting my fate in this gilded relationship, I let go of the dream of marriage and a traditional life. I went out more when WR was gone, enjoying time with girlfriends and a very few choice men on the sly. If I was WR’s second choice, I would make myself first choice and do what I liked. And I liked an occasional man.
Duping WR’s spies wasn’t so easy, but I found my ways. One time I arrived at an underground bar as a blonde and, thanks to a theater friend bringing me a wig, left as a brunette. Most times I did what I wanted, ignoring WR’s spies because I would love to have that fight if he ever confronted me. He couldn’t demand my fidelity when his was in question. The men were never anything serious, just fun and games I felt I deserved.
WR was spending considerable time in California, including the entire month of June with Millicent and the boys at San Simeon. Whether she knew it or not, The Black Widow—as I had taken to calling her—seemed to be winning. Privately, I imagined us dueling and ruminated on how I could get back at her by stealing him away.
It was sweltering the early October night WR returned to New York. Out drinking with a few girlfriends after work, I was startled to see him standing against the wall of the Landmark Tavern speakeasy, looking very out of place at such an establishment, watching me drink and laugh with Louella and Connie. I wore a blue chiffon dress with fluttering sleeves. Despite the heat, he wore a navy overcoat with his gray fedora hat and stared at me over his glasses with a half-smile, half-scowl.
“Girls,” I said, meeting his eyes, “my baby grand has returned. I have to go. Call me tomorrow.” I walked to WR without breaking eye contact. “Aren’t you hot in that thing?” I asked, pulling at the lapels of his coat.
He bent down and scooped me up in his arms, kissing me deeply in public for the first time. “Well, well, well,” I breathed. We made our way to his limousine.
“When did you get in?”
“Just now.” He kissed my neck and cheeks as he settled in next to me.
“How’s the Black Widow?” I asked as he continued kissing my bosom and neck. It was hard to hold onto my feelings of neglect and spite when he was in such an affectionate mood.
He said to his driver, “To the Oneida.”
“What’s the Oneida?” He shook his head, refusing to answer, holding my hand and gazing at my face with childish expectation. “Where are we going?”
“Just be patient, my darling.”
We got out of the limo and stood near the docks in New York Harbor. Staring at a very large yacht, WR’s hand slid around my waist and he whispered in my ear. “There she is, our ship, the Oneida.” Of course I zeroed in on his emphasis of the word “our.”
“Really? Our ship?” I exclaimed.
“Follow me, I’ll show her to you.”
My tour began on the observation deck where I could see the captain and his officers poring over a chart. He dashed me through the formal dining room with its long table covered in white linen. “What’s the rush?” I asked, but he whisked me along, pushing us through the galley and the stately library, and then stopping altogether, an expectant look on his face as he opened a set of mahogany doors to reveal the movie theater.
“I had this built just for you,” he said, swinging his arms wide.
“Oh my,” I said, flabbergasted, eyeing the large screen and about thirty red velvet cushioned seats, half on either side of the aisle.
Before I even had a chance to take in its splendor, he was calling me on to the next thing. “We’ll be back here later,” he said. “Now I have the most important thing to show you. Follow me.” He grabbed my hand as I continued to marvel at the movie theater. My heart fluttering at the lavishness of it all, we climbed down a staircase to a long hallway with doors on either side. “These are the ten guest cabins.” He opened the door to one cabin and said, “Go in and look, they’re newly decorated.”
I went inside and found a plush mini-suite with a large bed, dressing table, closet, and sitting area. “WR, these are gorgeous.” He stood in the doorway, gloating at me. I ran to him and threw my arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.
“Come now, my dear, and see where we stay.” He led me to the end of the hallway, and we climbed up the stairs again to the stern of the boat. He opened another mahogany door. “Welcome to our cabin, my dear.” I stepped inside and found a two-bedroom suite with an adjoining sitting room. WR’s room had mahogany desk furnishings, dark red damask hangings, and notably soft bedding accessories on a custom-built mahogany bed just for WR’s six-foot-three-inch frame. My room, done in white ivory and gilt, had a canopy bed with a lacy curtain and a gold inlayed bathtub. The porthole had a dark velvet curtain pulled over to keep out the light. A brass nautical clock hanging on the wall rang out chimes. My breath caught at the magnificence of it all.
“I’ve been remodeling her for months now.” He was like a peacock with its plume extended, and while I loved the splendor of it all, it made me realize just how little I knew of WR’s life away from me.
WR reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a diamond necklace. “Try it on darling. There are twenty-five one-carat stones.”
“Oh my, WR. You have outdone yourself.” I took a seat on the small sofa near the fireplace and lifted my hair so he could clasp the string of twinkling rocks around my neck.
I turned to face him. “Darling,” he said, “I’m not sure about much these days except that I love you, and I’m trying to show you. May I kiss you?”
“Oh, now you ask. And when we’re in public, you just grab me?” I teased. He bent down, caressed my cheek, and kissed me fervently.
“Darling, I don’t remember you being quite so ferocious. Has something happened I should know about?”
“Only that I miss you terribly, and I’m going to show you in every way just how much.”
Pulling me to my feet, he unbuttoned my dress, which landed in a heap. Sliding my slip off my shoulder, he unlaced my corset and all of it fell to the floor with a swish. Standing back his eyes drank in my naked body like a desert traveler. I was pleased to still have such an effect on him. I felt strong, confident, and happy.
“You are so gorgeous, Marion. The necklace sparkles just like your eyes.” He picked me up, took me to bed, and we made mad, passionate love like we hadn’t in a long time. Laying sweaty on top of the covers, catching his breath, he murmured, “I have another surprise for you.”
“More than the necklace? More than the ship?” I whispered incredulously.
“Yes, more, always more for you my darling.”
I sighed and closed my eyes, feeling my body smolder like an ember.
We slept on the ship, waking to eggs benedict delivered to me in bed as WR, already up and dressed, explained that we were hosting some family and friends that day on the ship, where he would screen my latest movie, Enchantment.
“We’re watching my movie tonight?” I sat up straighter in bed. “Who did you invite?”
“I thought you’d enjoy having Mama and Ethel. You have just enough time to go back to the penthouse and grab some clothes for another overnight stay, then you and Norman will swing by and pick them up, and return here late this afternoon,” he told me.
“Who else is coming?” I asked hesitantly.
“Just a few people from the studio, my darling. They deserve this treat. They’ve all worked so hard for us.”
“Of course, WR. Of course!” I hid the disappointment I felt at not getting a chance to weigh in on who else we might invite, like my girlfriends here in the city, but WR didn’t know them, so I understood. I peeked out the porthole and saw Norman on the dock waiting for me. I got dressed quickly and bid WR farewell. “I’ll see you this afternoon—and thank you for such a wonderful evening of surprises,” I said as I closed the door to our suite softly behind me.
When I got back to the ship later that afternoon with Mama and Ethel, we found the group in the movie theater waiting for us. There was Josef Urban, the most highly sought-after set decorator in New York who had built the most extravagant set to date for my current movie, along with his daughter, Gretl, an up-and-coming costume designer. Two other men from the studio were producer William LeBaron, built tall and thin like WR, and screenwriter Luther Reed.
My movie was a modern take on Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew, and while the crowd enjoyed it, I craved a drink to relax. On an excuse for the bathroom, I ran to our suite to take a few shots of bourbon I had hidden in my bag. WR discouraged my drinking and had mostly committed himself to sobriety while the laws of prohibition dominated the land, except for the rare glass of champagne. Alcohol had become a sticking point between us.
I snuck back into the theater just in time to hear everyone applaud as the movie ended, with WR clapping the loudest and giving me a scowl for being gone so long. “Dinner is served,” he announced to everyone. “Please follow me.” Mama and Ethel had wide eyes and big smiles on their faces as we followed WR.
We found our seats, and the formally dressed dining-room waiters brought in rack of lamb, red potatoes, and asparagus with cream sauce. The room was lit with a chandelier and candles. WR, looking particularly austere in his crisp white shirt, gray tie, and long, dark dinner jacket, clinked his empty champagne glass.
“Are we getting some champagne?” I asked, staring at his empty glass. The waiter entered just in time and filled everyone’s glass.
“Wasn’t that Marion’s best film yet?” WR asked, holding up his glass.
I tried not to gulp my champagne. “Darling, don’t put them on the spot like that.”
“Oh nonsense. These are your most loyal fans, and because of that I have a proposition for you all. I wish to invite you to extend our trip around the harbor and go to Mexico for a few weeks. Care to join Marion and me as we visit my three ranches?” He put his glass down on the table.
The whole escapade now became clear to me. He’d planned this series of surprises around needing to see some properties he had inherited in Mexico. And he wanted to do that with me, not Millicent. It was my turn to be spoiled and pampered. I raised my glass to WR. The rest of the table looked pleased, if not a little stunned. The adventurous twinkle in WR’s eye reminded me of Santa doling out presents. He raised his glass again to me. “Well, young lady, are you ready for an adventure?”
I stood up and kissed him boldly. The whole room erupted in applause.
“I guess it’s settled then. Off we go to Mexico.”
CHAPTER 16
