Ed scooted across the Nash's seat to the opposite side. The gearshift jabbed him high in the left thigh and his face went white.
“Christmas in California,” Johnny muttered.
Suddenly Ed pointed straight ahead and yelled, “There’s the place!” In fact the place, the restaurant owned by Preston Sturges, was over a block away.
At the restaurant, the bouncer eyed them suspiciously but could not deny that their names were on the guest list.
Cukor gave Ed a slow up-and-down look and said, “Why Ed, don’t you look smashing!”
Sturges turned to them with a strange look, and in what sounded like a comical accent said, “I shall return.”
Dick Powell and Regis Toomey were thrilled to see the boys, as usual.
Mitchum’s lips formed a mysterious half-smile, and in what sounded like a Swedish accent he said, “I never had a real friend before.”
“What say we treat ourselves to dinner at the Derby? Do you realize we haven’t celebrated yet?”
They looked around and spotted a waving arm and saw that the arm was attached to Betty Grable.
Johnny ordered the Cobb salad, which he’d been meaning to do since he’d arrived in Hollywood, and Ed went with the T-bone and twice-baked potato.
“Must have gotten it confused with something else," Betty shrugged. "Sure. Isn’t Fritz Lang making a new robot picture?”
“Not that I’ve heard,” Veronica smirked. “And I hear pretty much everything.”
“I think not,” Barbara said. “I can watch impaled bugs squirm in the privacy of my yard.”
“Oh, no,” Veronica said. “Much bigger than that!”
Ed sent the car laboring up the Hollywood hills.
Ann herself came to the door. She took one look at the boys, spun around, and snarled, "It's them!"
Tor lived in a cute little house in Echo Park. The boys had considered shooting their movie there until they’d realized the neighborhood was too loud.
“Ed! Yonny!” Tor cried, eagerly waving them into the house.
“Are you sure you boys won’t stay for supper? We’re having Swedish meatballs!”The boys ran.
Johnny stared until the Nash drifted over the middle line and an oncoming truck blared its horn. Then he pulled over to the side and stared some more.
The Vista Ramona was just off Hollywood Boulevard and had seen better days.
“Be missing, Mazurki,” Johnny said.
“Ed! Chonny!” Pop cried, turning down the volume. “How good to see my favorite boys!”
“We’ve sold so many prints that we’ve actually turned a tidy profit," Junior said. "I just got another dozen orders today.”
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