Stars Over Sunset Boulevard Read Free

pleaded.
    â€œCome back home to what?” Violet had responded. “There’s nothing for me there.”
    Daddy had asked what California had that Alabama didn’t. She hadn’t known how to express that Hollywood didn’t have expectations of her.
    Or sad memories of what might have been.
    â€œI suppose they miss me,” Violet answered.
    Audrey cocked her head. “So, what made you come all this way, if you don’t want to be a star?”
    But Violet’s reason was too personal to share with a virtual stranger. She was not going to tell someone she’d only just met that fully realizing she could never have the life she’d been raised to live and wanted to live had sent her scrabbling for a new foothold on a meaningful existence.
    â€œI was ready for a different life with new opportunities,” Violet said, with a slight shrug of her left shoulder.
    For a stretched moment Audrey stared at her. “Then you came to the right place,” she finally said. “Are you allergic to cats?” She took a long pull on her cigarette.
    Violet shook her head.
    â€œYou don’t have any furniture, do you?”
    â€œJust a suitcase. I’ve been staying at a hotel.”
    â€œThe rent is sixty dollars a month. Plus half of the utilities.” Audrey dropped the stub of the cigarette to the pavement and ground it out with her shoe. “My place is a bit out of the way. Eight miles by way of bus and the red car. It’s a very pretty neighborhood, though. Close to the hills and the Hollywoodland sign. It was my aunt’s house. But now it’s mine.”
    â€œThe red car?”
    â€œThe trolley. The streetcar. It’s a good thirty minutes getting there in the morning and just as long or more at night. Still interested?”
    â€œYes. Yes, I am.”
    Audrey smiled. “I’m on loan to one of the assistant art directors the next few days, so how about you meet me out front at quitting time? We can take the red car together so you can see the place and decide.” She rose from the bench,clutching the magazine and the handbag. “C’mon. You don’t want to be late getting back.”
    Audrey strolled confidently to toss the wax paper into a trash can some yards away and Violet had to quicken her step to catch up. Audrey’s attention was fixed on the people they passed, some wearing elaborate costumes, some street clothes, some moving leisurely, some rushing as though desperate to catch a departing train. A few of these people Audrey greeted by name; some she did not. But everyone was given a look.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    At a few minutes after five, Violet was at the front gate, waiting for Audrey to join her. When fifteen minutes had passed and there was still no sign of her, Violet was ready to assume she’d been forgotten. She had just decided to head back to her hotel when she saw Audrey walking slowly toward the gate, in the company of a man in a suit. They were laughing as they sauntered in her direction. He broke away before they reached the gate to head to one of the sound stages.
    â€œSorry about that,” Audrey said easily when she reached Violet. “But that fellow is not one to rush away from. Ready?”
    They set out toward the Pacific Electric trolley stop, alighting onto a Venice Line car seconds before it set off east toward the Hollywood foothills. The streetcar had made a few stops before the two women were able to find two seats together. They sank into the last double seat at the rear.
    â€œSo, have you lived here a long time?” Violet asked as they settled more comfortably.
    Audrey looked out the window at the passing scenery. “I suppose I have. I came when I was sixteen to live with my aunt.” She turned with a half grin on her lips toward Violet. “I’m not from here, either. I was raised four hours north on a plum farm. I’m a farm girl.”
    The