Ashes of Yesterday

Chapter 11

Albany leaned against a shining baby grand piano. In a room full of chatter and revelry, she looked strangely subdued. Her long, thin fingers toyed with an empty cigarette holder. She opened a silver box, retrieving a gold-tipped Egyptian cigarette and placed it into her slender amber-inlaid cigarette holder.

She was breathtakingly beautiful. Her platinum hair was cut in the short bob so popular among the stylish set. She was tall and slender and wore a gown of shimmering Champaign decorated with brown sequins and beads. She seemed to have everything. But the look on her face told the whole room she'd rather be somewhere else.

Where? Flix wondered, observing the statuesque beauty. She was currently swathed in the lap of oriental luxury. Where would she rather be?

Beneath the swaying palms of a tropical island?

In a penthouse in New York?

Walking a back street of Paris?

It was impossible to say.

Flix watched as Alfred the Great joined her by the piano. He was much older than Albany and was short and rather stubby. His hair was thin but heavily coated with Brilliantine. It was slicked straight back, accentuating his receding hairline. The obvious dye job highlighted his balding pate. Flix smiled at the stark contrast between the two.

Albany glimmered like a radiant sun beside Alfred. She looked sophisticated and sleek. Deadly. Alfred looked more like the fairytale frog waiting for that kiss to turn him into the handsome prince. Alfred took her slender hand in his and placed it on his arm.

Albany looked straight ahead. Was she bored by it all? Together, they moved toward the dining room. It was the signal for all attending that dinner was about to be served.

The dining room was a feast for the eyes. Large screens lined one long wall. Each was magnificent, a sample of serene, sepia-toned Oriental masterwork. The long table was centered under a round recessed opening. Overhead hung a cylindrical chandelier. The décor was minimal but shrieked of chic sophistication. Here, the Oriental influence created an inviting space to eat, converse, and participate in the intricate dealings of the movie industry.

The back wall was a collage of oriental silk tapestries. The opposite wall was solid glass and gave the diners a dramatic view of the Pacific Ocean. Flix found himself sitting between an older lady and a young gentleman, but opposite Albany Steppson. Emory was nowhere to be found.

Phalen was delighted with his dinner partners. A gorgeous blonde sat at his right and a ravishing brunette on his left. He was three seats down from the hostess, who just as Emory had said, could hold her own with any Hollywood movie starlet.

Dinner was splendid. There were elaborate dishes and items on the menu that Phalen had never heard of. He ate whatever was placed in front of him, caviar and pheasant and a host of other dishes, joking and laughing with the ladies on either side.

The wine was excellent. No one gave a thought to Prohibition. There was no need. Alfred Steppson was insulated by the walls of his grand mansion and protected by his fortune. The police would never barge through these doors to take down the men and women drinking alcohol in imported crystal glasses.

There were a number of big players from Steppson's studios. DaneValley and Tom Steele sat at the table. They were two of the studio's hottest stars. Steele had been in several Western shorts. Dane was starring with Steele in the studio's current project.

Steele's tall, athletic build made him a perfect choice to capture women's swooning hearts. And he looked good in a cowboy hat. Tom Steele was a natural. Dane looked good in anything she wore. Both had been featured in all the movie magazines and were spectacular draws at the box office.