My heart both ached and swelled to hear it.
“You shouldn’t have left me, Celia.”
“You shouldn’t have let me leave.”
And with that, I had no more fight in me. My heart cried out the truth through my throat. “I know. I know that. I know.”
Sometimes things happen so quickly you aren’t sure when you even realized they were about to begin. One minute she was leaning against the sink, the next her hands were on my face, her body pressed against me, her lips between mine. She tasted like the musky creaminess of thick lipstick and the sharp, spiced sting of rum.
I was lost in her. In the feel of her on me once again, the sheer joy of her attention, the glory of knowing she loved me.
And then the door was flung open, and the wives of two producers walked in. We broke apart. Celia pretended she had been washing her hands, and I moved to one of the mirrors and fixed my makeup. The two women talked together, caught up in their conversation, barely noticing us.
They entered two stalls, and I looked at Celia. She looked at me. I watched her turn off the faucet and take a towel. I worried that she might walk right out the bathroom door. But she didn’t.
One of the wives left, and then the other. We were finally alone again. Listening closely, we could tell the show had come back from a commercial break.
I grabbed Celia and kissed her. I pushed her up against the door. I couldn’t get enough of her. I needed her. She was as much of a fix to me as any drug.
Before I even stopped to consider the danger, I lifted her dress and slipped my hand up her thigh. I held her against the door, I kissed her, and with one hand I touched her the way I knew she liked.
She moaned slightly and put her hand over her mouth. I kissed her neck. And the two of us, our bodies tightly wound, shuddered against the door.
We could have been caught at any moment. If one woman in the whole auditorium chose to visit the ladies’ room during those seven minutes, we’d have lost everything we’d worked so hard for.
That is how Celia and I forgave each other.
And how we knew we couldn’t live without each other.
Because now we both knew what we were willing to risk. Just to be together.
PhotoMoment
August 14, 1967
EVELYN HUGO WEDS PRODUCER HARRY CAMERON
Fifth time’s a charm? Evelyn Hugo and producer Harry Cameron married last Saturday, during a ceremony on the beaches of Capri.
Evelyn wore an off-white silk gown and had her long blond hair down and parted in the middle. Harry, known for being one of the better-dressed Hollywood players, wore a cream-colored linen suit.
Celia St. James, America’s Sweetheart, attended as the maid of honor, and her fabulous hubby, John Braverman, served as the best man.
Harry and Evelyn have been working together since the ’50s, when Evelyn came to fame in such hits as Father and Daughter and Little Women. They admitted they were having an affair late last year when they were caught in flagrante while Evelyn was still married to Rex North.
Rex is now married to Joy Nathan and the proud papa of their little girl, Violet North.
We’re glad that Evelyn and Harry have decided to finally make it official! After such a shocking beginning to their relationship and a long engagement, all we can say is it’s about time!
CELIA GOT ABSOLUTELY SMASHED DURING the wedding. She was having a hard time not being jealous, even though she knew the whole thing was fake. Her own husband was standing next to Harry, for crying out loud. And we all knew what we were.
Two men sleeping together. Married to two women sleeping together. We were four beards.
And what I thought as I said “I do” was It’s all beginning now. Real life, our life. We’re finally going to be a family.
Harry and John were in love. Celia and I were sky-high.
When we got back from Italy, I sold my mansion in Beverly Hills. Harry sold his. We bought this place in Manhattan, on the Upper East Side, just down the street from Celia and John.
Before I agreed to move, I had Harry look into whether my father was still alive. I wasn’t sure I could live in the same city he lived in, wasn’t sure I could handle the idea of running into him.
But when Harry’s assistant searched for him, I learned that my father had died in 1959 of a heart attack. What little he owned was absorbed by the state when no one came forward to claim it.
My first thought when I heard he was gone was So that’s why he never tried to come after me for money. And my second was How sad that I’m certain that’s all he’d ever want.
I put it out of my head, signed the paperwork on the apartment, and celebrated the purchase with Harry. I was free to go wherever I wanted. And what I wanted was to move to the Upper East Side of Manhattan. I persuaded Luisa to join us.