Page 28 of A Star is Scorned

Flynn was shocked to discover how run-down the Garden of Allah Hotel had become.

The stories of its opulence and its notorious parties were the stuff of Hollywood legend.

But now it was a dingy collection of buildings that had seen better days.

The only remnants of its greatness were the algae-filled water features burbling in the shadow of the looming estate.

He followed Livvy’s directions to the small bungalow where she was staying. She moved to open the door of the passenger seat and he stopped her. “I may not be a gentleman, but I always walk a lady to her door.”

She looked ready to protest, but he reached across her and opened her door, before hurrying out of the car and offering his hand once he was at her side. She bit her lip and gripped his fingers.

Something had changed between them in the last few hours.

Every touch, every interaction was charged with the promise of something more.

What had been fun and games was suddenly the most serious thing in the world.

And he didn’t know what to do with that.

He was not and had never been a serious person.

As they walked to the front door, Flynn wondered if he should kiss her again.

Good God, what was happening to him? He’d never once questioned the wisdom of kissing a woman in his life.

But he knew he wasn’t the type of man that Livvy deserved.

She was vibrant, infuriating, fascinating, and funny too—but above all, she was kind and smart and good. The antithesis of all that he was.

But when he stood next to her on the stoop, her face turned up to him in the flickering beams of her porch light, he found it hard to remember any reason not to kiss her.

“Well, I suppose this is good night,” she huffed, something breathless in her tone.

“Suppose so.” He shrugged. Jesus, he was acting like a fumbling schoolboy.

“But Livvy…” She looked uncertain, her eyes flicking back toward the car.

He silently cursed his stupid black book.

He’d locked it in his car weeks ago to avoid its temptation for the duration of this PR stunt.

He’d honestly forgotten about it until it fell into Livvy’s lap.

He’d never felt the least bit of shame about that book.

Until tonight. Watching Livvy page through it made him feel dirty.

Like he had let her down before he’d ever met her. It unsettled him.

He didn’t know what to say, so he placed his hand under her chin and tilted it up to study her face—her open, searching violet eyes, the freckle darker than the rest on her right cheek, the pert little curve of her nose, and the perfect Cupid’s bow of her lips.

He leaned down to kiss them, and the door opened behind them.

“Livvy, you’re home! Oh, er, sorry.”

Livvy practically leaped off the porch in her rush to put distance between them. “Oh, don’t worry, Judy. Mr. Banks was only making sure I made it to the door safely.”

The kid behind the door gave her sister a look that said she didn’t believe that for a second. But Livvy was back to calling him Mr. Banks. Whatever spell had been cast over them tonight had dissipated the second that girl had opened the door.

Flynn looked up and studied the kid. Livvy had said the girl was eighteen years old.

But she still had the lean, feral build of a teenager.

Judy was blond, the opposite of Livvy’s dark curls, and while her eyes were the same shape, they were hazel, not the ravishing gray-violet that made Livvy so unique.

But was that…? Judy stepped back to let her sister in, and Livvy saw it the same time that he did. It had been hidden by the shadows of the porch.

Judy Blount was sporting a massive black eye.

Livvy gasped. “Oh my God, Judy. Are you all right?” Livvy rushed into the bungalow and immediately dragged her sister into the light of the living room. “What happened?”

The girl was clearly uncomfortable with Livvy’s ministrations. She shook Livvy off and moved to the other side of the couch. “I’m fine. I messed up my number tonight, that’s all.”

Livvy looked stricken. “Tonight was your first night dancing in the floor show! Oh, Judy, I forgot. I was supposed to be here when you got home. I’m so, so sorry.”

Judy eyed Flynn with a mixture of suspicion and interest. “That’s okay. I knew you had other plans tonight.”

Livvy still looked horrified. If she’d been wearing pearls, she would’ve clutched them.

“I knew this club was a bad idea. First you injure your wrist, then you sprain your ankle, and now you’ve got a black eye.

They don’t seem to care much about the safety of their dancers.

Can’t you get a job at Schwab’s or something instead? ”

Judy stuck out her chin in a gesture of defiance Flynn knew all too well. He’d made that face at least ten times a day when he was Judy’s age. “Stop fussing, Livvy. I’m a big girl. Mr. Wilkes said that if I want to be a dancer in the pictures, this is the best place to start.”

“I’ll bet he did,” Livvy muttered.

Flynn’s ears perked up at the mention of Mr. Wilkes.

He’d put some money in the man’s nightclub a few years back—the Sphinx, he recalled.

Flynn had never been there himself. Billy Wilkes was an unsavory fellow, and his joints were known for being on the seedy side, but throwing money at the man’s business aspirations had been the easiest way to settle a gambling debt after a poker game at Dash Howard’s house had gotten out of hand.

Flynn looked at Judy more closely, noticing the purple bruising around her eye and the imprint of a small stone. He thought it was about the same size as the ruby ring Wilkes always wore on his pinkie finger. “How’d you say it happened?”

Both Judy and Livvy looked up at Flynn as if they’d forgotten he was even there. Judy chewed her lip nervously. “I told you, I messed up my number. I wasn’t looking where I was going when I was kicking my way into the wings, and I ran into a flat used in the bubble dance routine.”

Flynn’s eyebrows rose at that. This kid didn’t belong working in a club where there was bubble dancing going on.

Hell, neither of the Blount girls belonged in a place like that.

Besides, he could tell Judy was lying through her teeth.

He’d lay down twenty bucks right now that the kid had got in Billy Wilkes’s way and he’d backhanded her, leaving a mark with his ring.

And it sounded like this wasn’t the first time.

He had a sickening feeling the injured wrist and sprained ankle hadn’t been accidents either.

Billy Wilkes preferred to communicate with his fists, not with his words.

But Livvy bought Judy’s lie, scootching over to her sister on the couch and holding Judy’s face under the light of the lamp. “Oh, Judy, it’s turning green.”

“That’s good, means it’s already starting to heal,” Flynn told them. He shouldn’t be here. This was none of his business. But he wanted to help. To prove he was more than that book of women’s names and his stupid rating system.

“Oh, thank goodness it’s already on the mend.” Livvy continued to cluck and fuss over Judy, examining her face. “I should never have gone tonight. I should have been here for you.”

Judy grimaced. “What good would that have done? Were you going to come to the club and stop me from running into the set? I’m not a child, Livvy.”

“That may be, but I’m still responsible for you. I should’ve been here to help take care of it. Not off somewhere eating enchiladas.”

Judy immediately disagreed, and Flynn left them bickering while he wandered into the kitchen—if the tiny range and icebox shoved into the corner could be called that.

He opened the icebox door. There was nothing in it.

Not even a jar of mayonnaise or mustard.

What was the studio paying Livvy? Flynn made a mental note to talk to Harry.

She was new and unproven, but Livvy should be able to afford groceries.

Hell, she should be able to afford a better place to live than this dump.

At the very least, she should be making enough so that her kid sister didn’t have to lie about working for one of the most abusive club managers in town.

The Sphinx wasn’t the only spot that had a reputation for roughing up their showgirls, but there were spots where Judy would be safer and happier, though poorer.

The freezer’s offerings weren’t much better than the fridge’s, but there was at least a frozen clump of chuck roast that looked like it’d been there since the Harding administration. He chipped it out of the freezer, took the single dish towel from the oven door, and wrapped it up.

When he returned to the living room, the girls were still arguing. He cleared his throat. “Er, sorry to interrupt.” They snapped their heads in his direction. “But you should put this over that eye for a bit. Will help keep it from swelling.”

“You sure know a lot about how to tend a black eye,” Livvy quipped.

“It’s common knowledge.” Flynn shrugged, unsure if she had meant it as an insult.

“But if you want the real reason, well, that’s a story for another night.

” He winked at her. “Judy, keep that pressed on your eye for at least fifteen minutes. Livvy, if it looks worse in the morning, give me a ring. I’ll have my doctor make a house call. ”

Livvy looked ready to kiss him, her eyes welling with tears.

But this wasn’t the time for that. His head was spinning with ideas about how to help Judy.

Could he call Billy and threaten to pull his investment if the club manager didn’t go easy on her?

No, that would only make things worse. “I should be going.”

He headed for the door as Livvy called out her thanks after him. He was climbing into his car when Judy rushed out after him.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing. I just wanted to thank you—for not telling my sister the truth about my eye.”