Wes leafed through the last of his money, blowing a sigh of relief when he came across a five dollar bill to pay the waitress. Patsy eyed him from across the checkered table of the diner, her pink lips pressed together.
"You still haven't talked to him, have you?" she said, flipping her golden hair over her shoulder.
"I will," said Wes, folding his wallet and slipping it into his back pocket. "I just haven't found the right time."
Patsy cast him a wry look. "Wes, you have exactly two dollars left to your name. I'd say now is just as good a time as any."
The cheeseburger Wes had just consumed bubbled in his stomach as he thought about the betrayal Judd would feel when he told him that Wes and the Flames was moving on to a different producer. Earlier that morning, he and the boys had met with Patsy's producer at RCA record company.
The halls of the RCA enterprise were lined with framed top hit records. Just walking through it, Wes felt like he was finally on the path to stardom. He could physically feel his dreams looming on the blank spaces of those walls.
Jack Corbin, the Carmody Sisters' producer, sat at his office at the end of the hall, like a king behind a shiny mahogany desk. A savvy man with jet black hair greased back and a flashy polka dot polyester suit, he bolstered the image of a rock and roll icon.
He'd jumped up to greet them when they arrived, exuding youthful energy that spread like wildfire to the rest of them. "I just have one question for you," he'd said, looking each of them square in the eyes. "Are you ready to do what it takes to be superstars?"
There was no question as to whether they were ready. It was what they lived and breathed every single day. Filled with renewed excitement, the boys had signed the contract within minutes. And they were talking about headlining gigs before the ink dried on the paper.
Leaning back against the diner booth, Wes folded his arms behind his head, attempting to stretch his turning stomach. They had to think about their careers, not their personal loyalty to Judd, he told himself.
Regardless, it still felt like a betrayal. They'd gone behind his back, sold him out and word would spread quickly. He'd need to tell the old man before he found out through the grapevine.
He was sure it wouldn't come as a surprise to other bands in the business, they would all understand. Judd was a good, honest man, but he wasn't meant for Hollywood anymore.
Their song hadn't lasted on the radio. Within a few weeks it was gone all together. Patsy was sure it was because no one knew who they were. The gigs they were doing weren't drawing large crowds and Judd wasn't promoting them. Exposure was everything, and Jack Corbin had promised to make them headliners.
Under Jack's management, Patsy had recorded a hit solo record that was climbing the charts. As they spoke, it sat at number five on the top ten most played songs on the radio. Although her sisters felt understandably snubbed, she'd worked hard to get where she was, and he admired her for that.
She was a hot commodity and she knew it. Everywhere they went, men's eyes were locked on her, secretly wishing they could be in his shoes.
His eyes met hers across the table. She smiled, her long dark lashes accenting her deep blue eyes. She reached out a thin, manicured hand to his and he grasped it, smiling back at her. She was stunning, the definition of perfection.
He hadn't thought much about their relationship until that point. Most of their free time was spent together. She was easy to be around, engaging and smart. She understood the music business and she'd taught him—the rookie that he was—a lot.
She hadn't pressured him to go steady like most girls he'd dated. But, he sensed he would need to make their fling official if he wanted to keep her to himself. He wasn't going to find another Patsy and there were plenty of men standing in line.
"Shall we take a walk outside?" he asked, finishing the rest of his coke.
"Yes," she said with a smile, bouncing out of the booth. "The sun is just about to set. It will be very romantic, I'm sure."
He watched her round bottom sway hypnotizingly as he followed her out of the diner, trying to ignore the googling eyes of the other men sitting at the tables. He knew she was aware of their stares and welcomed the attention—after all, the passion to entertain seemed to be coursing through her veins.
Hand in hand, they walked a short distance to Santa Monica Pier. The sun was just dipping into the ocean as their feet sunk into the sand. They sat together watching as it slowly made its way into the dark blue sea, the orange and purple aura around it fading until it was dark.
"I don't think I'll ever be able to go back to Hoboken," he said turning to Patsy. "I really love everything about this place. It's like it's always alive. Like every soul with a big dream has traveled here and filled the place with their energy."
The lights of the carousel near the pier began to spin and the sound of laughter drifted over towards them.
Patsy laughed. "This place? This place is downright ordinary. Just wait until you see Paris or Italy. Or you play at the Grand Ole Opry. I want it all Wes Rizzo, I'm not a girl to stay in one place."
Wes put his arm around her. "We'll have it all," he said. "You and I—and the boys, of course."
She frowned at his last words, turning towards the ocean. Wes followed her gaze, his mind racing as the waves crashed onto the beach in front of them.
Suddenly, his mind conjured up Izzy, her head bobbing up and down between the waves, the way he'd first seen her when he'd dropped everything and swam out to save her. He sat up straight, his arm dropping from Patsy. He squinted, peering at the waves. No one was really there, of course. Sitting back, he recalled the look on her face when she'd turned towards him, her rescuer. Despite himself a smile spread across his face.
Frustrated, he got to his feet, brushing the sand from his pants. Why was he thinking of that long lost girl at a time like this? All he'd ever dreamed of was sitting right there next to him.
Patsy pulled herself to her feet and looked up at him. "Are you alright? What were you thinking about just now?"
Wes looked at her, mulling his next words around in his mind. "I was thinking what a great couple we make," he said with a crooked smile. "Patsy Carmody, America's dazzling beauty queen and Wes Rizzo, up and coming flutter bum. But I don't think we've made it official. So, here goes nothing. Patsy Carmody, would you be my girl?"
Patsy giggled, grabbing his hands. "Gosh, you scared me. For a moment I thought you'd get on your knee," she said. "Yes. Yes, Wes Rizzo. I thought you'd never ask."
His lips came to hers and her arms wrapped around his neck. He pulled her close, her hair smelling like vanilla. It was getting cooler and she was soft and warm against him. A few minutes later she pulled herself away.
"It's getting late and my sisters and I have a show tomorrow. I should get home," said Patsy. "Will you be there?"
"Of course," said Wes. "I wouldn't miss it."
"And you need to tell old Judd tomorrow," Patsy reminded him. "You're scheduled to begin recording at RCA in the afternoon.
He grimaced, his stomach twisting into a knot. "Right."
"Wes," said Patsy, her eyes imploring his. "You've got to get used to turning people down. It's part of the business."
He was silent as they walked back to the street to hail a cab. His mind was busy coming up with the right words to bring up the separation to Judd. Hank and Gene were in agreement, although Hank had resisted at first. He was loyal to a fault, and it was hard for him to break the trust of the man who'd taken a chance on them, regardless of the reasons. Wes felt the same, but his passion to be great had won over in the end.
The cab halted near Patsy's apartment and he climbed out, sprinting across to open the door for her. He handed the driver the last of his money, praying it would cover the charge. Patsy dug out a couple of dollar bills and handed them to the driver, making Wes cringe with embarrassment.
Never again, he promised himself. He was going to make enough money to never have to worry about being broke again.
He walked Patsy up the wide concrete stairs to the door of her high rise apartment. At the top, they turned to each other, casting long shadows under the streetlamp. Wes reached up and swept a strand of her golden hair behind her ear. He leaned forward and kissed her. "Wish me luck with Judd. I'll see you tomorrow night."
Strolling back to his own apartment in the dark, his heart sank the more he thought about the old man. He'd invited them into his home and even to his cabin. He'd treated them like family. Guilt gnawed at him as he navigated an empty alleyway. Something told him call off the deal, but it was too late. They'd already signed the contract.
He shook his head. Patsy was right, pansies and pushovers were left at the bottom of the showbusiness ladder. This was his dream, now was his time to fight for it. He couldn't let his feelings get in the way.
Gene and Hank were already asleep when he struggled into the apartment door in the dark, tripping over the boxes stacked on the floor. They'd be moving tomorrow, the apartment they were staying in was owned by Sunray Records. They already had a place lined up near RCA and with their promised monthly stipend, they'd have more than enough spending money after the rent was paid.
Gene was sprawled out on the sofa, a beer bottle in his hand and Hank was snoring in the chair next to him. Lazy bums, Wes thought with a smile. Their dates must not have worked out, he'd expected them back later.
He stumbled past them into his bedroom and flipped on the lamp. A cloud of dust sprung from the mattress as he collapsed onto it, causing him to sneeze. Rubbing his nose, he stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, his mind racing.
Unable to sleep, he reached in between the mattress and the bed frame to retrieve an envelope, in it his father's letter. Letting out a deep sigh he unfolded it, a picture of his mother and father slipping into his hand.
They were young in the picture. They stood together, holding hands with big smiles spread across their faces. Behind them, the American flag flew proudly. The most beautiful sight I've ever seen, his father had said.
He'd told him the picture was taken when they'd first arrived in America, straight off of the S.S. Colombo, an Italian steamship.
Focusing on their faces, Wes could tell they were bursting with dreams when they stepped off that ship. But, there was fear as well. They'd taken a leap of faith, leaving everything behind for the hope of making it in America. They'd left their homes, their parents—their lives.
The timing couldn't have been worse. They'd set foot in America just as the Great Depression took hold, and jobs were hard to come by. His father ended up working in a granite quarry, under an abusive boss who resembled a slave master more than an employer. The conditions were horrible and the pay was meager.
It must have been hard on his father, a talented musician himself, to bury his dreams under the layers of dust and stone in that hell hole for all those years.
His mother was skilled in sewing and tried to work as a seamstress, but she was turned away. They'd told her that immigrants were not wanted as seamstresses. Shortly after that, she became pregnant with Wes.
They'd raised him the best they could, with what little they had. There were times that there was no food, times when his mother and father had to swallow their pride and beg the church to help them. He could remember several nights he'd spied his mother crying to his father, wishing they'd never left Italy.
Wes wanted their American dream to become a reality. His father was crippling himself working in the quarry. He'd nearly gone blind from the spray in his eyes, and coughed constantly from the dust in his lungs.
He wanted to buy them a new home in the country with acres of land like they'd always dreamed of. He wanted his mother to have all of the pretty fabrics she needed to start a shop of her own.
Turning the photo in his hands, his jaw set with determination and he lost all of the uneasy feelings he'd been harboring about the decision they'd made.
***
"Give it to me straight boys," said Judd, his coffee cup raised halfway to his mouth. "This isn't my first go round."
Wes cringed, unsure whether it was a good or a bad thing that Judd already suspected what their news would be. They'd called him that morning on the premise that they needed to talk about something important. He'd agreed to meet them in the studio.
Wes sat across from Judd with Hank and Gene nervously at his side. Hank could barely lift his head. He sat staring at his hands.
Wes swallowed, his throat dry. "This—this isn't turning out the way we expected," he said, drumming up courage from his thoughts the night before. "Our gigs are small. Our record isn't getting promoted." He slammed his fist on the table, remembering Patsy's friend George's words at the Bop. "There are places looking for us to headline and you're turning them down."
Judd raised an eyebrow. "Patsy's been talking to you, I take it?"
"Patsy and practically everyone who's someone in the business," said Wes. "We'd be fools not to listen. Look—we didn't come this far to go halfway. We're not going to settle for a song that plays once or twice on the radio. We want to be stars, that's why we're here."
Judd set his cup down slowly. His brows drew together. For a brief moment, anger flashed in his eyes. "You're all talented kids—smart kids," he said. "I had hoped you'd trust me. Trust that I had your best interest at heart. You should have asked me, I would have told you. There's more to it than just playing a big gig. Agents out here have strings attached to every deal they offer. They want to control your life, and they will."
He sat back shaking his head as he looked at them. "I wanted to protect you boys. I wanted to make sure you did this right. Make sure you didn't make the mistakes I did when I started out. That's why I brought you to the island first."
His chair grated loudly against the floor as he stood, scrutinizing them. "So tell me, did you sign already?"
Wes nodded, somewhat sheepishly.
"God dammit!" Judd turned around, slapping a hand against the window. "With who? RCA?"
"Yes," said Wes, his stomach turning as he watched him from behind.
Judd turned, anger in his eyes. "Did you read it! Did you read the goddamn contract first at least?"
The look on their faces told the old man the answer. He kicked over the chair he'd been sitting in, his eyes reddening with the rest of his face. "Go on then," he said under his breath. "Get out."
So, Wes and Patsy are a thing. What do you think about that? The boys went and separated from Judd, now they're about to see the real side of Hollywood. Much more to come. You're probably wondering how Izzy and Wes will meet again, right? You'll find out in the second part of this story which will be in a separate book (Part Two)! Next chapter we'll return to Izzy at St. Mary's Home for Unwed Mothers. Thanks so much for reading and please vote if you're enjoying this story!