"You set a hell of a fine table," he said as the Mexican woman filled his coffee cup.
Jennie smiled at him.
"There's nothing cheap in this house."
The Mexican servant walked over and filled Jennie's cup, then waddled back into the kitchen.
"You look like you're playing tennis this morning," he said.
She nodded. "That's exactly what I'm doing. I play for two hours every morning."
"Where do you play?"
"Bel Air.
I have a standing date with Frankie Gardner."
He raised an eyebrow.
Frankie Gardner was one of the top tennis pros in the country. He was expensive – at least twenty-five dollars an hour.
"Is he one of your customers?" he asked curiously.
"I don't play with my customers. It's bad for business.
I buy his time like anybody else."
"Why?"
"I like the exercise," she said. "It helps me keep in shape. You know by now that sometimes I put in some pretty long hours."
"I see what you mean. Have you ever thought about doing anything else?"
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"I told you I studied nursing."
"I don't mean that.
How come you never tried the movies?"
She laughed merrily.
"I'm a native Californian, Mr. Bonner. I've seen what happens to the kids that come out here.
Better-looking than I ever was.
They wind up as car hops, hustling hamburgers, or five-dollar whores working the Strip. I know better."
"I mean it," he said earnestly. "Do you know who I am?"
"Of course, Mr. Bonner. I read the papers.
You're one of the biggest producers in Hollywood."
"So maybe I know what I'm talking about, eh?"
"Maybe you do." She smiled. "But I know myself and I'm no actress."
"That wasn't what you said last night."
"That's something else," she said. "That's my business.
Besides, you see the way I live.
It would be a long time before I could earn a grand a week in pictures."
"How do you know?
We've had a script around for five years that we haven't been able to find a lead for.
It was written for Rina Marlowe.
I think you could do it."
"You're crazy!" She laughed. "Rina Marlowe was one of the most beautiful women on the screen.
I couldn't hold a candle to her."
He was suddenly serious. "There are things about you that remind me of her."
"Could be," she said. "I hear she was pretty wild."
"That, too," he said, leaning toward her. "But that isn't what I'm talking about.
Come down to the studio tomorrow and I’ll set up a screen test.
If it doesn't work, we forget about it.
If it does – well, there's just one man's approval I need and you're good for two grand a week."
"Two grand?" She stared at him. "You're joking."
He shook his head.
"I don't joke about money."
"Neither do I," she said seriously. "Who is this man whose approval you'd need?"