The Devil You Know by Richard Levesque Page B

say anything?”
    He
shrugged. “Why should I? It’s not my idea, after all.”
    Laura
smiled and shook her head. “It’s a bit risky, isn’t it? I mean, what if the
real…you-know-who was to be in the same place?”
    He
threw his hands up. “It’s a big town. I don’t think he and I move in the same
circles.”
    “But
the Brown Derby? We get a lot of actors in here.”
    “Like
I said, it’s never my idea. If I ever get found out, I’ll just plead innocence
and pay my bill. You watch. Your friend Jerry won’t charge for the steaks.”
    Laura
sipped her tea. When she had thought she was sitting across from Cary Grant,
she had felt giddy and almost speechless. But now that she knew the man was
just a good-looking rake with a quick wit and a sharp eye for opportunity, she
felt more confident. The man was flirting with her, and she didn’t mind.
    “Now,”
he said, leaning forward and folding his hands in front of him. “I’ve told you
a secret. What’s one you can tell me?”
    She
raised an eyebrow. “I hardly know you, Mr. Thompson.”
    “Please,”
he said. “Taylor.”
    “Taylor,
then,” she acquiesced. “I hardly think it’s proper of me to be sharing secrets
with you.”
    “And
why not? I’m down forty dollars and a dry cleaning bill, aren’t I? I saved your
job. And I expect this’ll be a nicer steak than you’ve had in some time.”
    She
smiled at his cockiness and looked down at her hands on the tablecloth. “All
right,” she said after a few more seconds. “I’ll tell you something no one else
here knows about me.” She paused and met his gaze again, pleased to see him
smiling in anticipation. “My name’s not really Laura Tremaine.”
    He
leaned back against his chair, a look of enlightenment on his face. “Ahh, I
see. An aspiring actress?” She nodded in response. “And what, may I ask, is
your given name?”
    She
smiled shyly. “It’s Esther. Esther Funderburke,” she said.
    He
winced. “A wise choice, Laura Tremaine.”
    They
both laughed, and soon their steaks arrived. As they ate, they traded stories,
and she found out that he worked in the accounting office at Piedmont Pictures,
that he had been in Hollywood for three years, and that he lived in a little
bungalow high in the hills. Working at the studio, he insisted, was hardly
glamorous.
    “Oh,
I don’t know,” she said when the meal was about finished. “I think just being
on the other side of the gates would be better than being stuck on the outside
looking in.”
    “And
you want to be on the inside looking out?”
    “More
than anything.”
    He
raised an eyebrow. “And no luck yet?”
    She
shook her head. “I’ve been to some casting calls, but…nothing yet.”
    “Why
not, do you think?”
    She
shrugged. “I suppose it’s because I haven’t got an agent yet. But all the ones
who’re willing to give me the time of day are just in it for themselves.”
    Taylor
nodded his understanding. “You know,” he said, clearly thinking through his
idea as the words formed on his lips, “I could talk to some people. I do have
the chance to rub elbows with a few actors in the commissary. Maybe I could
float your name around, see if I can’t get a connection to an agent who might
do you some good.”
    Laura
grew flushed. “Do you really think?”
    “All
I can do is try.”
    “That
would be…I don’t know what to say.”
    He
smiled, and she saw that it was the Cary Grant smile again—as though he
somehow looked more like the actor than he had a moment ago. For a while during
the meal, she had wondered how she and Jerry had been so easily fooled into
thinking he was the actor, but now she saw again that the resemblance was
uncanny. And when he said, “Say you’ll come dancing with me,” she felt herself
blush more deeply at the attention he heaped upon her.
    Uncertain
of herself and feeling flustered at his flattery, she quietly said, “Sure.
Sometime.”
    “How
about tonight? Now?”
    She
shook her head,