“I was still angry about Denise breaking up his marriage to Julia—well, I’m still angry about that—and I thought . . . well, I had all sorts of reasons, and they all made sense at the time.”

“And now?”

My shoulders sank, and for the first time I uttered the words, “I’m wondering if maybe it was a foolhardy gesture.”

“Why did Leon buy them? The man who makes everyone in a ten-mile radius sign a loyalty oath? Leon should have taken you to the woodshed and given you a good whupping, but no, he offers your writer two pictures and a three-year contract? Crazy.”

“Thelma thinks it’s so they can keep Charlie close by. Keep an eye on him.”

“Everything you’ve said about Leon Greene, one thing we know for sure, he ain’t stupid. He knew, didn’t he? He guessed Max wrote these. Why would he buy these scripts?”

“For Denise. Denise wanted them. I have to admit, they are great roles for her.”

“Does Denise know Max wrote them?”

“Hell no.”

“Leon might have told her.”

“He’s too proud to admit to a weakness. Any weakness. And he would see it as weakness that he chose to please his young wife, and never mind his sworn allegiance to the Motion Picture Alliance for the Preservation of American Ideals.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“Maybe Gordon guessed. But he’d never part with any secret that could hurt Leon.”

“Anyone else?”

“Well, you and me and Thelma. And Max and Marian, and Charlie, and Maurice, and Kathleen Hilyard.” I did not include Irene, who had guessed.

“And Jonathan?”

“No. I’d never tell Jonathan. He’s too free and easy, and he has too many parties.”

“But did he guess? Jonathan got the role of Professor Bleeker. He knows Max Leslie’s work, doesn’t he?”

“He does, but Jonathan . . .” How to say this without looking disloyal to my oldest friend, and the only friend who knew about Terrence and me. “There’s lots he doesn’t notice. He’s not exactly astute about anything outside of himself.”

“They call that being egotistical.”

“I’m used to it. It’s just who he is. No one’s going to change him. He’s like my brother. You can’t change your brother.”

“Don’t I know it.” He rose, came to me, and took me in his arms, held me close, his cheek against my hair. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Liza Jane. It all sounds pretty rickety to me. I hope it doesn’t crash around your ears.”

There in his arms, though the beat of his heart comforted me, I thought just the same about the famous house of straw and how little it would take to blow it apart. I had more to lose now.

Chapter Seventeen