golden

two: an incomparable mystique

One, two, three. One, two three. One, two-.

"What are ya doing?"

Her ankle faltered in the distraction. Elizabeth tumbled and found herself braced against the golden banister of the staircase. Her eyes shifted from her feet to said distraction. Howie. Still clad in the previous day's clothing. Thankfully, the stench of alcohol was nowhere to be smelled.

"Trying to practice my dance skills." She pushed off the banister. Howie pressed down a smile, forcing his lips into his mouth. Rolling out her ankle, she gave him a frown. "What are you staring at?"

"Nothin'. Jus' thought you was an actress, not a dancer."

She cut her eyes. "I have to dance in the picture and unfortunately, I seem to have two left feet. Clearly, I was not meant to be a jive bomber."

Elizabeth swiped her the back of her hand over her forehead, brushing away stray pieces that had fallen from her braid. With her back turned once more to him, she restarted her practice. One arm imaginatively curved around the shoulders of an invisible partner, her other hand just as falsely holding another's.

It only took three times of the counted steps and a dreadful self-spin before she found herself in her brother's grasp. Her arm around her shoulder and his against her waist. "Yer problem is that yer tryin' to be the lead. Jus' follow me."

Exceeding her expectations, he proved to be a formidable dance partner. Her shoulders relaxed, tension ebbing away as she followed his steps. "Where did you learn to dance like this? I know it wasn't in Aransas." She questioned as he spun her away from his body.

"Wasn't always shootin' and fightin' during the War. Had some nights on the town." As he pulled her back to him. He dipped her and pulled her back up. "Jus' do it like that and you'll be aces. Remember, Gregory's s'posed to lead."

Elizabeth stepped back from him. She wiped her palms down the thighs of her pants. "How did you know Gregory was in the movie?"

Howie smiled genially. "Bet, ya talk all the time about yer work. Ya think I don't ever listen?"

~~~~~

"You missed a real night out, Elizabeth." Peggy breezed past her in a sickening cloud of cherry aroma. "We had the best time."

Smoothing the waist of her skirt against the tucked in teal blouse, Elizabeth met her gaze through the mirror. "I'm sure you did."

She didn't have the time for a vivid recounting of their night on the town. It was her last training session before the audition and all her thoughts and focus had to be centered on work. Not the unlucky former soldiers who found themselves in Peggy's company. She certainly didn't want to hear anything about them getting sauced; she dealt with that enough from her brother.

"We checked out the Midnight Lounge, down on Franklin. Oh, God, Betty, they've got this new lounge singer and he's just delicious. English and handsome as the devil. I mean-."

"So, did you do it or not?" Elizabeth quipped. More than ready for it to be over and the chase to be cut. There had to be a point to it. Either Peggy gave up whatever she had for a British lounge singer or she was embellishing their night. No matter what the outcome, Elizabeth didn't much care to hear it.

Peggy's cheeks flamed red. "No, of course not." Her voice didn't rise with the words. It was the truth. "I know better than that. We have rules and certain ones aren't meant to be broken."

At least that got through her thick skull.

Upon the signing of any contract, the fine print of it all had to be read. It was imperative that anyone who signed with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer knew exactly what they were signing into. Elizabeth herself read over her own contract thrice before finally signing the dotted line with impeccably perfect lettering. The fine print of the morality clause tended to be the reason so much new talent got cut out early on. To say Louis Mayer was stringent about the perception of his stars was an understatement. At all times they had to speak, look, and act as respectable, upstanding and immaculate beings.