He hired me right then and there.
Baba made a stink, but I did my part by falling back on my tried-and-true helping-Monroe-with-his-tuition routine, which allowed us both to save face.
OUR CLUB CASA del Mar show went over big. Eddie was marvelous-his surprising height making his long lines seem even longer-and I made a solid partner, swaying around the floor by myself while he performed showy antics. The Los Angeles Times wrote: “Audiences were spellbound by Eddie Wu and Helen Fong’s Oriental stylings. How long before we see this terpsichorean duo on the silver screen?”
A few nights into the run, I was in my dressing room pulling a stocking up my leg when I heard a knock at the door.
“Come in,” I called.
The door opened, and there was Grace, holding the L.A. Times clipping in her hand like an offering. She’d lost a lot of weight and was now so thin that her hip bones protruded like twin ledges against the fabric of her tired evening gown. Her cheeks were hollow, and her complexion was pale and waxy. We may have been Chinese, but we were theater people now. I allowed myself to be hugged and kissed. Then we babbled about what a surprise this was, that the show was terrific, and wasn’t it great to be together again? But it didn’t take a diviner to see that Grace’s spunk had been drawn from her.
“What’s this?” Eddie stood in the doorframe, still in his tails. His big grin faded as he absorbed the changes in Grace. Without another word, he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her. “It sure is swell to see you, kid.”
She got a little weepy, but Eddie took care of that with more hugs and kisses followed by words of concern and encouragement.
“You never wrote,” he said. “We all worried about you. Even Charlie.”
“You mean he’s forgiven me?” she asked.
“For cutting out that night? He was never mad at you. But, babe, you didn’t need to do that. No guy is worth it. Believe me.”
Grace blushed. “So everyone knows my business?” When neither Eddie nor I answered, she quickly changed the subject. “What are you two doing here?”
“You just saw what we’re doing.” Eddie scratched his chin. “The hotel wanted a novelty act, and we’re providing it. They’re paying good money.”
“We want to get some movie work too,” I added.
“Movie work.” Grace frowned. “Boy, have I ever failed at that.”
“Don’t give us that look,” Eddie chided. “No one ever said it would be easy. This business is all about breaks. Sometimes you get a good break. Sometimes you get a bad break. That’s the breaks! So perk up! Laugh a little!”
“Every show business career has low points,” she agreed tentatively. “It’s easy to get down and beat yourself up. Even for big movie stars. You finish a movie, and then what? Will I ever work again? I love one thing about show business, though.”
“Let me guess,” Eddie said, game. “You work here, and you make friends. You work there, and you make new friends. Pretty soon you start bumping into those folks in clubs, theaters, and movie studios. And sometimes they pop up in the most surprising places, because our world isn’t that big. See? Here we are!”
“Oh, Eddie.” Grace’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I’ve missed you all so much. Shoot! I’ve even missed Ida!”
WHEN THE TWO-WEEK gig at Casa del Mar ended, Grace invited me to move into her drab room in a boardinghouse in Hollywood. Eddie rented accommodations in the same building. So far, Grace hadn’t asked about Ruby and had closed off any attempts by me to discuss her, but once we were roommates, the subject was unavoidable.
“We may as well get it out in the open,” Grace volunteered when I started to unpack my suitcase. “How is she?”
“Ruby told me she felt terrible about what happened.” I paused to get a sense of Grace’s reaction. “She was heartbroken when you left.”
“I was busted up too-”
“Grace, what can I say? The whole thing was horrible.”
My words delivered sharp stabs into her heart. She still ached. I’d never realized a woman could not be married and feel so deeply.
“When I look back, Joe didn’t actually do anything to me.” I could see that she’d given this a lot of thought-months, alone, of thought. “He treated me like a smitten kid, and I was. Now I can say I’ve survived the agony of first love.”
“And Ruby?”
“That’s harder. We were friends. She should have told me. But then I think about how I reacted. No wonder she didn’t tell me.”
I took the framed photo that I’d wrapped in a sweater out of my suitcase and tucked them together in a drawer. “She’ll want to hear that I found you.”
“Don’t tell her. Please? It’s embarrassing enough that I acted like a dumb kid. It will humiliate me even more for her to know I’m down on my luck.”
“All right then.” I reached for her hand. “It’ll be just the two of us-Grace and Helen.”
EDDIE AND I made the rounds of the studios and had as little luck as Grace had. We had fun, though. Sometimes, after a disappointing day, Eddie would buy a pint and bring it back to Grace’s and my room, where I’d make grilled peanut butter sandwiches on the hot plate. Cocktails and a gourmet meal! On Sundays, we splurged and had cornflakes and milk or maybe leftover rice with sugar and cream on top. Grace took us to a little place in Chinatown called Sam Yuen. The food was good and cheap, and the owner liked me because we spoke the same dialect. “If you girls ever want jobs…” As if I could ever be a waitress…
I thought we had it made when Eddie got us signed with a booking agent, Max Field, who agreed to represent the two of us as dance partners, Grace as a soloist, and Grace and me as a team. Max looked for all kinds of gigs: club dates, one-nighters, three-night stands. Grace and I got the first booking, doing a variation of “Let Me Play with It,” which we’d once practiced with Ruby, for three weekends at the Florentine Gardens. Eddie and I got a couple of gigs too. One night I stayed home with a fever, and Grace stepped in as Eddie’s partner at a floor show at La Rue. This gave Eddie an idea: “Let’s put an act together for the three of us.”
We bought time at a dance studio to work on a ballroom routine. Grace and Eddie loved Cole Porter, and they searched for the perfect tune-with a nice tempo and the right sentiment-before settling on “You’d Be So Easy to Love.” Eddie took turns practicing lifts with Grace and me.
“Astaire and Rogers, Toy and Wing, Veloz and Yolanda-they all make lifts seem easy, but they aren’t,” Grace said one afternoon after she’d crashed on her behind for the ten thousandth time that day. How often did Eddie drop us on our shoulders, our hips, our heads, our knees? How often did we go flying through the air, slipping across the floor, banging into walls? We were covered with bruises. But no matter how often I found myself splayed on the floor, I got right up and moved back into Eddie’s arms. I loved dancing with him. All the while, he stared into my eyes.
“You have to feel that we’re in love.” His voice burrowed into me. “Let the audience see that I’m seducing you and that you’re weakening. The audience wants to know you’re mine.”
And I could play along, because it wasn’t real.
Max saw the act and said we were great. Then he sat us down and pointed out the obvious: Eddie’s evening dress-with the long coattails and broad lapels, the shirt with the stiff front, and the white tie-was frayed. Max was even tougher on Grace and me. “You two look kiddified. You’re young, fine, but proper gowns will make you look elegant, polished, and sophisticated.”
No one had ever called me “kiddified” before, and it was pretty insulting given how I’d been raised to have the nicest dresses in Chinatown and how I had so many beautiful cheongsams made for me in China. So Grace and I went out and I used the last of the money I’d brought with me to buy matching sequined chartreuse gowns-backless-which didn’t look one bit kiddified. Max immediately got us booked to debut our act at the Vendome on Sunset Boulevard. “It isn’t the Trocadero or the Mocambo,” Eddie said, “but it’s still a ritzy nightclub.”