The Autograph Hound Read Online Free PDF Page A

worth it for Tina’s autograph.”
    â€œYou got it?” she says.
    â€œUh-huh.” I show her the name.
    â€œFor your information, that’s Benny Walsh. He has more autographs than anybody in New York. He’s the Motown of signatures.”
    â€œReally?”
    Moonstone whispers, “She’s jeffing us, Benny. If she’s in movies, what’s she doin’ waiting for Tina to sign?”
    â€œLady, if you’re in movies, what were you doing getting Tina’s autograph?”
    â€œPart of my research. I study film types. Tina just finished her third movie.”
    â€œWhat movies have I seen you in?”
    â€œI’m working my way up.”
    â€œThat’s the only way. Color or black and white?”
    â€œThe works—close-ups, middle-long shots, take four.”
    â€œI’m sorry, miss,” says Moonstone. “There’s a mirror at the luncheonette around the corner.”
    â€œI’ve been an actress nearly five years. I also sing. I’m not boring you, am I?”
    â€œMy name’s Benny Walsh.”
    â€œI’m Gloria.”
    We shake on it.
    Moonstone leans across the linoleum tabletop. “Take it, Benny. Go on. It’s gossamer tip. The best.”
    â€œAre you crazy? She’ll be out of the Ladies any second.”
    â€œI’m telling you she’s hot to trot. She’s wide open.”
    â€œYou said you were sorry.”
    â€œStarlets, man. They get to the top on their backs. That’s the rules.”
    The soda jerk brings our orders. Moonstone gets the banana split. I’m the egg cream. The BLT on diet bread, butter not margarine, is for her.
    Gloria arrives back just in time. Her perfume makes it hard to smell the egg cream.
    â€œMay we start?” says Moonstone.
    â€œWell … how do I look?”
    â€œVery nice.”
    â€œIs it an improvement?”
    â€œThe tricks of the trade, right?” Moonstone says, kicking me.
    â€œI pencil under the iris. The black line is what gave Joan’s eyes their size. She never had an operation, she was just a master of makeup. You’ll notice I have real eyebrows, too. You can take this penciling too far. I’m not falling into the same trap as Lana Turner when she shaved them off for Marco Polo and they never grew back.”
    â€œYou mean Lana’s not all there?” says Moonstone.
    Gloria’s cheeks are so rouged it’s hard to tell if she’s blushing. She looks down at her food.
    â€œWhat he meant was—it must be very tough breaking into movies.”
    â€œYou’ve got to be very, very careful. Don’t overeat. Don’t undereat. Don’t use water on your skin. Don’t wear unmatched colors. Don’t use bad grammar. Don’t be bad mannered. Don’t forget to brush your hair seventy times a night before going to bed.”
    â€œSeventy?” says Moonstone.
    â€œIt’s a beauty tip,” says Gloria.
    â€œWell, it works.”
    Gloria smiles at me.
    â€œWhat are you waiting for?” she says. “Eat.”
    Moonstone makes a mess. He uses his spoon like an oar. He stirs everything up. “I’m into color,” he says. Whipped cream drops on his pants. “I’m creaming.” He laughs and digs back in.
    â€œOther people are eating, you know.”
    â€œHe’s trying to be the life of the party.”
    â€œI’ve lost my appetite,” Gloria says, pushing her plate away.
    Gloria stares past me. She reminds me of Mom waiting for me to finish dinner, tapping the Lucky Strike song on the table while I chew each piece of meat twelve times. “You wanna talk, Ma?” “Sure.” “What’ll we talk about?” “Anything.” “You start.” “You asked first,” she’d say and cross her arms, waiting. Finally, I discovered how to break the ice. I’d slap my face like Milton Berle—a real hit. “I sweah