ROSE GOES ON
Chapter Sixteen
September, 1917
"Cut!"
Hinesdale’s annoyed voice rang out over the
sound of the music. Rose picked herself up off the floor, where she had fallen
when another member of the cast had suddenly danced into her path and tripped
her.
"Miss Hartman, how many times do I have
to tell you to stay out of Mrs. Dawson’s way?"
Nanette Hartman, the star of Lights,
put her hands on her hips in irritation. "She got in my
way."
"Mrs. Dawson was exactly where she was
supposed to be. You all know the blocking here, especially you. Now, let’s take
it from the top."
Nanette shot Rose a snide look as the
actresses reassembled on the stage. Rose rolled her eyes, trying to ignore her.
Hinesdale had begun filming Lights in
May. Nanette Hartman, a rising starlet, had been chosen for the starring role,
while five other actresses were in the supporting dance roles. Rose enjoyed the
work, except for the presence of Nanette, who had quickly managed to alienate
everyone in the cast and crew.
Rose wished sincerely that Hinesdale had
chosen another actress for the lead role, but she had to admit that Nanette was
beautiful and talented. A natural blonde, Nanette had the frail look so often
favored by audiences, and she put on a good public face. Her popularity with
the public was the only thing that kept her working. With few exceptions,
people who knew her personally disliked her.
Nanette had quickly fixated upon Rose as a
threat, though for the life of her, Rose couldn’t understand why. Nanette was
younger than her, and already a fixture in the public eye. One of the actors in
the cast had suggested that Nanette feared that Rose was beautiful and talented
than her, but she gave no credence to the idea. At twenty-two, Rose knew that
she had to get her break soon, or she never would. She might continue acting
for years, but she would never be a big star if it didn’t happen soon. It might
be, she thought, that Nanette felt threatened by Rose’s ambition. The
eighteen-year-old had been in pictures since the age of ten, but was only now
rising to fame, while Rose’s career was moving quickly, in spite of the fact
that she had begun only a year earlier.
The starring actress had gone out of her way
to make Rose miserable and make her look stupid, but much to her dismay, Rose
shrugged off her insults and attempts to make her look bad. Rose’s attention
was focused on her work, and the actions of the prima donna star were of little
concern. Hinesdale supported her, and as long as she was on his good side,
Nanette had little power. The girl fancied herself to be the reason that the
picture was being filmed, but Hinesdale could as easily have replaced her, had
he chosen to.
To make matters worse, Rose’s character,
Charlotte, was supposed to worship Nanette’s character, Madeleine. It took all
of Rose’s acting skill to do what Hinesdale wanted, but she succeeded, raising
herself in the eyes of most of those around her. Nanette Hartman could be
difficult, but Rose saw things through anyway.
As the dancers reassembled to re-shoot the
scene, Rose thought about the reactions of others to her success. Mary and
Nadia had been thrilled, especially when she sent them a publicity shot of
herself, as well as a clipping from an industry newsletter in which she was
mentioned. John had also written to congratulate her, but his response was more
reserved. Rose suspected that he had hoped that she would return to New York.
As the music began again, Rose put the
thought out of her head. John had been drafted and sent to Europe recently,
leaving the girls in the care of Elizabeth Anders. He had written to her before
he left, asking that she keep in contact with the girls and be there for them
if anything happened to him. Rose had immediately written back, agreeing. Mary
and Nadia were like daughters to her, and she had taken the opportunity to
offer to let the girls and Elizabeth visit in December. She was still
uncomfortable with the idea of seeing John, but she missed Mary and Nadia, and
she thought that a change of scene might distract them from worrying about
their father.
Whirling around, she kicked her legs up high,
keeping with the choreography laid out for the dancers. In contrast to many
directors, Hinesdale was also an expert choreographer, needing no help in
putting the dance scenes together.
Rose loved every minute of it. Even when she
arrived home exhausted from a long day of dancing, her muscles sore from the
exertion, she still enjoyed it. She had been able to bring Christopher with her
on some occasions, and the four-year-old boy loved watching her dance. When she
was off-camera, he would try to dance her around, imitating what the male
dancers were doing. She always laughed and humored him, though the small child
was still too clumsy to really dance, and she was much too tall to really dance
with him. Oftentimes she had picked him up, dancing around with him in her arms
or sitting on her shoulders.
Most of the time, though, she was unable to
bring Christopher with her. There was often no one to watch him, and she
couldn’t depend upon him to sit quietly for hours at a time. Inevitably, he
would get bored and go looking for something to do. She had offered to let his
baby-sitter bring him and watch some of the filming, but the elderly woman
disliked making the long walk across the city, and she had no other
transportation.
Rose had been gratified to find that she was
not required to be on the set every day, and sometimes filming would only last
half a day or so, giving her more time with her son. The pay wasn’t top, but it
was more than she had made as a waitress, and she had more time to relax and be
with her child.
When she was filming, however, the work could
be stringent. Hinesdale was a perfectionist, demanding the best from everyone.
Some people grumbled, but Rose soon learned to respect him. He wasn’t a
hypocrite; he demanded the same perfection of himself that he demanded of
everyone else. He was a harsh taskmaster at times, but he was fair.
Rose joined the line of dancers at the front
of the stage, close to the cameras. Linking arms with Nanette and another
actress, Julie, she kicked her feet high in the air--just as Nanette stepped
out of line and tried, once again, to trip her.
Rose’s foot was just coming down, and she
gave the ill-tempered starlet a good kick in the shins. Nanette shrieked in
outrage, just as Hinesdale shouted "Cut!"
"You bitch! You did that on
purpose!" Nanette grabbed a handful of Rose’s long red hair and yanked,
eliciting a yelp of pain from her rival.
"You tripped me, you two-faced little
slut!" Rose had had her fill of Nanette Hartman.
"I did not!"
"Yes, you did!"
Nanette slapped her. Rose immediately
retaliated, driving a fist into the other woman’s stomach. Nanette shrieked
again, and fell on the floor, clutching her stomach.
"Miss Hartman, get up off the floor.
I’ve had it up to here with your histrionics. You’re not hurt."
Nanette just lay on the floor, continuing to
hold her stomach. Rose imagined that she probably had caused the girl some
pain. She hardly fit the ideal of the frail female. Years of work had put
strong muscles on her.
"Mrs. Dawson, I commend your patience.
This is the first time you’ve actually gotten back at her. However, we have
been working on this five minute scene for five hours, and frankly, I’m getting
tired of it. Miss Hartman, get up and get into place. And this time, stay out
of Mrs. Dawson’s way, or I’ll cut you from the scene."
Slowly, Nanette got up, glaring at Rose. Rose
looked back at her coldly, then turned away and went back to where the scene
began.
"Bitch," Nanette whispered, low
enough that only Rose could hear her.
Rose just looked at her, then made a gesture
she hadn’t made since she had been on the Titanic. Nanette looked shocked, then
furious, but knew better than to try Hinesdale’s patience further. He never
made idle threats. She would be cut out of this, the opening scene, if she did
anything else to her rival.
An hour later, they had finally shot the
scene to Hinesdale’s satisfaction. When he had dismissed them, Nanette flounced
away with only a hateful look at Rose, retreating to her own dressing room.
Rose ignored her, glad that she had only two more scenes to film with the
detested starlet.
As she changed back into her street clothes,
Julie came over to congratulate her.
"It’s about time someone put Nanette
Hartman in her place. She’s been asking for it for months."
"I try not to let her get to me. She’s
not worth ruining my career over."
"At the rate she’s going, she won’t have
a career before long. Hinesdale isn’t known for his patience with prima
donnas."
"I noticed." Rose turned to the
mirror, wiping off her heavy makeup. She and Julie had become friends over the
months of filming, brought together by their love of acting and their dislike
of Nanette. Rose was the more tolerant of the two, having grown up with people
who often displayed as much resentment and jealousy as Nanette, if in a more
subdued manner. Julie, on the other hand, had come to Hollywood from a small,
impoverished town in the South, with high hopes for her future. Nanette Hartman
had quickly destroyed Julie’s ideas of what Hollywood should be, and she
harbored a great deal of resentment toward her.
"Well, we’re almost done with this
picture," Rose pointed out. "We won’t have to deal with her after
this."
"We hope." Julie wiped the makeup
from her own face. "I wish someone would tell the world what she’s really
like. Maybe she’d get off her high horse if people didn’t worship her so
much."
"Ha." Rose snorted rudely. "I
don’t think that’ll ever happen--unless, of course, someone comes up with a way
to put people’s voices in the pictures. That would end her career."
Julie laughed, a little bitterly. Nanette was
beautiful and talented, but she was also possessed of a high, shrill voice that
made people cringe--and that was her normal tone of voice.
"There’s a party tonight," Julie
told her, dabbing on a little regular makeup. "Are you going?"
Rose shook her head. "No. I need to get
home."
"Come on, Rose. You need to get out
more, let yourself be seen. How are you ever going to be a star if no one ever
sees you?"
"I have a little boy at home, in case
you’ve forgotten."
"It doesn’t start until eight, and we
aren’t needed for filming tomorrow. Get dressed, have dinner with him, and then
come to the party. You’ll have all day with him tomorrow. Come on," she
added when Rose hesitated. "You need to have a little fun. You know what
they say about all work and no play..."
Rose laughed. "All right. I’ll come. But
you’ll have to help me take Christopher to the beach tomorrow. And I can’t stay
out too late. He has nightmares if I don’t come home and kiss him good
night."
"Well, stay until eleven or twelve,
then. I bet he’ll be happy to get to stay up a little later. I always
was."
"All right, all right. You’ve convinced
me. I’ll ask his baby-sitter to stay with him until I get home. If he stays up
late, it means that I can sleep late, anyway. I’ll just take him to the beach
in the afternoon instead of the morning."
Julie grinned at her. "Rose, I’m going
to teach you to have fun yet."