Gary stood in the theatre lobby with Cinnamon, or Scarlett, or whatever her name was clinging onto his arm. She was eye candy, nothing more, hired by his publicist to attend the opening because he couldn’t come out in public with Matt. This close to the glass front of the building his attention was focused, riveted, on his reflection. He noticed the girl, she was pretty enough but nowhere near as beautiful as he was. Anyone could see that.
The reflection showed a confident man with jet black hair slicked back close to his scalp. His pencil mustache lent a “devil-may-care” look to his visage, and his teeth were perfect. The white suit was cut ‘just so’ and he accessorized with a six inch long cigarette holder and a perpetually burning Lucky Strike clamped between his teeth.
The girl had obviously been hired because of her looks. She was petite with short, curly blonde hair and a peacock feather framing her face. Maybe her hair was red, or brown. It was tough for him to tell in the reflection. She wore a short white silk dress that showcased her lithe form. He thought she might have been a dancer in real life.
Murray clamped a hand on his shoulder, “Time to go in now, Gary. They’re gonna roll the picture soon.”
Still watching his reflection Gary leaned down to the girl, “Cinnamon,” he whispered, “stick with me. I don’t want to lose you in this crowd.”
“Margaret.” She whispered back.
“Margaret, my name’s Margaret.”
“Oh right.” He twisted the lit cigarette from the holder and handed it to her. “Here, take care of this, will you?”
Keeping her hand on his arm, she looked around and finally tossed it in the direction of a waste bin by the popcorn counter. She missed but one of Murray’s people took care of it.
“I just know you’re going to like the picture, Scarlett,” he said. “I think it’s some of my finest work and I just love musicals, don’t you? I do an absolutely spectacular job with those new Gershwin tunes.”