Hollywood Haunts (Challenge #173) -- PG-13
Posted: Fri Oct 28, 2016 8:35 pm
AN: A little treat for Halloween! And thanks to the lovely and talented Allegrita for her suggestions and edits!
Hollywood Haunts
The battery in my mouse must’ve been getting low. I was scanning through stories on the LA Times website, but when I clicked, I missed the link by a fraction and ended up on the lifestyle page. Not my usual go-to. Funny how it happened like that. Otherwise, I might not have seen the ad. The Roxy was an old theatre. A landmark. I’d spent a lot of time there, in my youth. Now, it was known for classic cinema – old Hollywood stuff – but I’d seen most of those movies 100 times, either first run, or on the late late show. But this movie... this one had a special place in my memory. And just like that, just from seeing the ad, I knew I had to go to the screening.
I considered, very briefly, taking Beth along. But that wouldn’t have been quite right. Which led to the problem of telling her I was going out to the movies alone. I don’t lie to Beth. Sometimes, though, even the most honest guy has to shade things a little. I ended up using the one card she’d let me play from time to time. I told her it was a vampire thing.
“As long as it doesn’t involve any lady vamps,” she replied. Something must’ve shown in my face, because she gave me a sweet smile and added, “Don’t give me that angsty face, Mick. I trust you.”
She came in for a hug, and she felt so warm, so human, that I almost changed my mind and stayed home. But I knew this was something I needed to do, so I kissed her and went out the door, shrugging on my long duster as I walked to the elevator.
Back in 1951, when I was dating Coraline, we went out most nights I wasn’t working. And at first, it was quite a ride. Exclusive nightclubs, fancy restaurants where Coraline never ate. She drank snifters of cognac – the kind of stuff that cost more for a bottle than my suit had new–and she encouraged me to develop a taste for single malt scotch. And it was all on her dime. Pretty soon, I started feeling like a gigolo, and it didn’t sit too well. I told myself I wasn’t that kind of man. That I could’ve broken off with her, found another woman, someone more my speed, someone like Lilah. But Coraline had me bewitched, caught up in her charm and that maddeningly sexy body. I was a fish on a line, and she was reeling me in. I’ve never known why she didn’t eventually throw me back, but I guess she just wasn’t into catch and release.
Anyway, every once in a while I’d insist on picking our destination for the night, and doing what I wanted. At the time, I thought I was being manly and dominating, but looking back, I suspect I sounded like a child teasing mommy for a treat.
So one night in June, I put my foot down when she suggested a visit to one of the clubs she liked. I wasn’t that crazy about the house band, and besides, it was too hot to wear a suit. “How about we go to a ballgame?” I suggested. “We can sit in the bleachers, get hot dogs and beer – it’ll be fun.”
“I don’t know, Mick,” she answered, “I don’t really care that much for sports,” she said. “Anyway, I always snag my nylons on those benches.” She was sitting curled up on her couch, and extended her legs in a sensual move, to show me what a stray splinter might be ruining. She topped it off by making one of those delicious little pouts, pursing her lips in a way that usually made me forget everything but diving into her…arms.
I dragged my mind out of the gutter with some difficulty. “Okay, how about a movie? We haven’t been to a movie in a while.”
I guess she must’ve sensed I wasn’t going to back down, and surrendered with the barest hint of ill grace. “Do you have one in mind?”
“We can look at the listings and see what’s playing.” I shrugged, and headed over to pick up the newspaper from her dining table, where it lay carelessly scattered. Finding the page of advertisements, I looked them up and down to see what I thought she might enjoy. “How about Quo Vadis? People say it’s pretty good.”
She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Historical epic? Not really to my taste.”
“Okay,” I said, hastily scanning down the page. “Hey, there’s a new Hitchcock film. You like those, don’t you?”
Coraline actually managed to look a little interested. “Hmmm. Yes. I liked Rebecca, particularly. I always felt a certain kinship with her.”
I frowned. “You mean the second wife, don’t you? Rebecca isn’t even in the movie.” Let’s just say I wasn’t a film critic, then or now, but I knew that the title character, even dead, cast her shadow over the entire movie. And it bothered me a little that Coraline found her sympathetic.
She laughed, gently. “Yes, I guess so. It’s just that I’ve always thought I look a little like her – like the portrait of Rebecca.”
“Oh,” I said, “that makes sense.” Even though it didn’t, and we both knew it. She turned the subject, and soon enough we were off to the movie theater, driving through the soft glow of the Los Angeles summer evening.
At the theater, I bought the tickets, and got a big bag of popcorn, even though I knew from past experience that she wouldn’t touch it. As usual I urged her to accept a soda, and she turned that down too.
“If I get thirsty, darling, I’ll just have some of yours.” Her smile was intoxicating, and I couldn’t argue with her.
She was a little restive through the previews, the cartoons, and the newsreel, but once the movie started, we were both caught up in the plot. The foolish young man snared in web of deception and death, set on a course that would change his life forever.
Looking back, I think I was too interested in munching popcorn and sliding my arm around Coraline’s shoulders to make too much of the movie.
But 65 years later, and in possession of a broader field of vision, I can see a few points that might’ve occurred to Coraline, sitting there long ago by my side.
I left my Mercedes parked securely in the garage across the street, and headed into the theater. I bought myself a tub of popcorn, for the scent, even if I couldn’t eat it. I’m sure the theater must have been refurbished several times since 1951, but as far as I could remember, it looked about the same. I found a seat and waited for the lights to go down, and the projectors begin to whir, remembering sitting here in the dark so long ago with the woman who was going to kill me, watching Strangers on a Train.
Hollywood Haunts
The battery in my mouse must’ve been getting low. I was scanning through stories on the LA Times website, but when I clicked, I missed the link by a fraction and ended up on the lifestyle page. Not my usual go-to. Funny how it happened like that. Otherwise, I might not have seen the ad. The Roxy was an old theatre. A landmark. I’d spent a lot of time there, in my youth. Now, it was known for classic cinema – old Hollywood stuff – but I’d seen most of those movies 100 times, either first run, or on the late late show. But this movie... this one had a special place in my memory. And just like that, just from seeing the ad, I knew I had to go to the screening.
I considered, very briefly, taking Beth along. But that wouldn’t have been quite right. Which led to the problem of telling her I was going out to the movies alone. I don’t lie to Beth. Sometimes, though, even the most honest guy has to shade things a little. I ended up using the one card she’d let me play from time to time. I told her it was a vampire thing.
“As long as it doesn’t involve any lady vamps,” she replied. Something must’ve shown in my face, because she gave me a sweet smile and added, “Don’t give me that angsty face, Mick. I trust you.”
She came in for a hug, and she felt so warm, so human, that I almost changed my mind and stayed home. But I knew this was something I needed to do, so I kissed her and went out the door, shrugging on my long duster as I walked to the elevator.
Back in 1951, when I was dating Coraline, we went out most nights I wasn’t working. And at first, it was quite a ride. Exclusive nightclubs, fancy restaurants where Coraline never ate. She drank snifters of cognac – the kind of stuff that cost more for a bottle than my suit had new–and she encouraged me to develop a taste for single malt scotch. And it was all on her dime. Pretty soon, I started feeling like a gigolo, and it didn’t sit too well. I told myself I wasn’t that kind of man. That I could’ve broken off with her, found another woman, someone more my speed, someone like Lilah. But Coraline had me bewitched, caught up in her charm and that maddeningly sexy body. I was a fish on a line, and she was reeling me in. I’ve never known why she didn’t eventually throw me back, but I guess she just wasn’t into catch and release.
Anyway, every once in a while I’d insist on picking our destination for the night, and doing what I wanted. At the time, I thought I was being manly and dominating, but looking back, I suspect I sounded like a child teasing mommy for a treat.
So one night in June, I put my foot down when she suggested a visit to one of the clubs she liked. I wasn’t that crazy about the house band, and besides, it was too hot to wear a suit. “How about we go to a ballgame?” I suggested. “We can sit in the bleachers, get hot dogs and beer – it’ll be fun.”
“I don’t know, Mick,” she answered, “I don’t really care that much for sports,” she said. “Anyway, I always snag my nylons on those benches.” She was sitting curled up on her couch, and extended her legs in a sensual move, to show me what a stray splinter might be ruining. She topped it off by making one of those delicious little pouts, pursing her lips in a way that usually made me forget everything but diving into her…arms.
I dragged my mind out of the gutter with some difficulty. “Okay, how about a movie? We haven’t been to a movie in a while.”
I guess she must’ve sensed I wasn’t going to back down, and surrendered with the barest hint of ill grace. “Do you have one in mind?”
“We can look at the listings and see what’s playing.” I shrugged, and headed over to pick up the newspaper from her dining table, where it lay carelessly scattered. Finding the page of advertisements, I looked them up and down to see what I thought she might enjoy. “How about Quo Vadis? People say it’s pretty good.”
She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Historical epic? Not really to my taste.”
“Okay,” I said, hastily scanning down the page. “Hey, there’s a new Hitchcock film. You like those, don’t you?”
Coraline actually managed to look a little interested. “Hmmm. Yes. I liked Rebecca, particularly. I always felt a certain kinship with her.”
I frowned. “You mean the second wife, don’t you? Rebecca isn’t even in the movie.” Let’s just say I wasn’t a film critic, then or now, but I knew that the title character, even dead, cast her shadow over the entire movie. And it bothered me a little that Coraline found her sympathetic.
She laughed, gently. “Yes, I guess so. It’s just that I’ve always thought I look a little like her – like the portrait of Rebecca.”
“Oh,” I said, “that makes sense.” Even though it didn’t, and we both knew it. She turned the subject, and soon enough we were off to the movie theater, driving through the soft glow of the Los Angeles summer evening.
At the theater, I bought the tickets, and got a big bag of popcorn, even though I knew from past experience that she wouldn’t touch it. As usual I urged her to accept a soda, and she turned that down too.
“If I get thirsty, darling, I’ll just have some of yours.” Her smile was intoxicating, and I couldn’t argue with her.
She was a little restive through the previews, the cartoons, and the newsreel, but once the movie started, we were both caught up in the plot. The foolish young man snared in web of deception and death, set on a course that would change his life forever.
Looking back, I think I was too interested in munching popcorn and sliding my arm around Coraline’s shoulders to make too much of the movie.
But 65 years later, and in possession of a broader field of vision, I can see a few points that might’ve occurred to Coraline, sitting there long ago by my side.
I left my Mercedes parked securely in the garage across the street, and headed into the theater. I bought myself a tub of popcorn, for the scent, even if I couldn’t eat it. I’m sure the theater must have been refurbished several times since 1951, but as far as I could remember, it looked about the same. I found a seat and waited for the lights to go down, and the projectors begin to whir, remembering sitting here in the dark so long ago with the woman who was going to kill me, watching Strangers on a Train.
I wonder if Mick is trying to banish a mental ghost, watching that movie again. 
I can certainly understand why it would have haunted him all this time. 
(But he should have gone with Beth. She could've eaten the popcorn for him.) 
I can see why Mick felt he needed to see that movie alone.
