[This is an excerpt of Starstruck by Rachel Shukert]
PROLOGUE
February 12, 1938
It was one of those nights in Hollywood, the kind that made gossip columnists and newspapermen and the announcers on newsreels say, “It was one of those nights in Hollywood.”
Searchlights swept the starlit sky. Flashbulbs popped, littering the ground with shattered glass like piles of diamonds. Down on Hollywood Boulevard, the marquee of Grauman’s Chinese Theater was ablaze with light, its copper roof and red lacquer columns emitting an otherworldly glow that gave it the aura of an ancient sacred temple.
And up the crimson carpet came the deities themselves, wrapped in pale satin and shining furs, striking poses for the photographers, pausing now and then to bestow a ruby- lipped smile or extend a slim gloved hand to one lucky supplicant among the teeming throng of frantic fans.
Deep within the crush of people shouting and begging and brandishing autograph books, two teenage girls held on to each other for dear life.
“Margaret!” the smaller one shrieked. “Somebody just pinched me!”
“Never mind, Doris,” the one called Margaret shouted, expertly twisting her slim body this way and that through the crush. “Just keep hold of my hand. If we get separated we’ll never find each other again.”
Together, they wended their way toward the front, until at last they had a clear view of the blazing marquee.
Olympus Studios Presents
DIANA CHESTERFIELD
in
MANHATTAN MEMORIES
“Look, Doris,” Margaret said excitedly, despite the fact that her head was being wedged beneath the less than fragrant armpit of a tall man in a damp tweed jacket. “Look at that marquee. Isn’t it beautiful?”
Squashed behind a very fat woman in a flowered dress, Doris jumped as a flashbulb popped right next to her face. “It’s awfully bright.”
“Well, if you’re a star, you get used to that,” Margaret said.
“Diana Chesterfield told Picture Palace that when she was just starting out, she used to practice posing by shining a triple- watt flashlight in her eyes every night in front of the mirror.”
Turning her face toward the glare of the flashbulbs, Margaret demonstrated her idol’s technique. She had practiced it herself for hours back home in Pasadena.
“Do you think Mickey Rooney will be here?” Doris asked hopefully.
“Doris.” Margaret rolled her eyes. “This is an Olympus picture.”
“So?”
“So Mickey Rooney is under contract at MGM. At Olympus, instead of Mickey Rooney, they have— ”
“Jimmy Molloy!” Doris’s shrieks of ecstasy pierced the din as Olympus’s biggest musical star cavorted down the aisle, his famously dazzling grin calibrated to a blinding level. Eyes bright below his swooping quiff of ginger- colored hair, he clapped a hand over his mouth and blew a big kiss in the girls’ direction.
The photographers snapped away.
“Oh my Lord!” Doris cried. “I’m going to faint, Margaret. I am positively going to faint! But who’s that girl with him?” Her eyes narrowed jealously.
YOU ARE READING
Starstruck
Teen FictionA new series set in the golden age of glam . . . Every week they arrive in Los Angeles--beautiful and talented young hopefuls who dream of becoming stars. It's all Margaret Frobisher has ever wanted—and when she's discovered by a powerful agent, she...
