Your heeled feet carried you excitedly up the concrete stairs. The bright blazing lights of boutiques, restaurants, cinemas, bars, and buildings gave you slightly spotty vision in the static night.

Though the weather was still, no wind, rain, or sleet—the bustling life of Hollywood’s streets was anything but unmoving. Every pair of feet walked with a purpose, every soul had a place to be or a person to see.

You looked over your shoulder to see Harvey demanding the bell hopper to be careful with your luggage as he hauled the bags onto the dolly. “Watch it, pal—that bag is worth more than you!” He fixed his suit’s elegant cuffs, hands finding his satin handkerchief to dab access sweat off of his forehead with.

Harvey was your manager, a man 23 years your elder, yet still a man you trusted with all your heart. He had seen your talent when you were a little teeny bopper performing in the shady streets and even shadier bars. He had scooped you up and molded you into the star you are today.

Though he was your protector, he put a lot of pressure on you being the best. Like tonight at the Vaudeville theater where you performed in front of all Hollywood’s finest stars…he chewed you up in the cab about your bad posture on stage.

The performance had gone spectacularly and now you were headed into a nearby hotel for the night. A hotel previously stayed in by some of the most famous stars alive.

A large, warm hand pressed itself against the lower portion of your back, heat seeping through the fabric of your light dress. “Why, you were lovely tonight, young lady. That last song could’ve brought a grown man to tears.” Donald’s smooth voice brought your gaze up and to his face, neck craning to do so.

Golly gee?! Donald Lenny was speaking to you. Donny was known as one of the most prolific singers in Hollywood—his crisp voice and fluid vocals making him a favorite in the industry.

After tonight’s performance many were interested in you and the pretty voice you possessed on your own. Donald must be making a move to perhaps make duet…that could send you to stardom.

“I believe we’re both staying at this hotel—I could help you get settled—perhaps invite you to my room for a drink,” He mentioned, punched fingers placing his smoking cigarette back to his mouth as he ushered you through the glass doors.

Harvey didn’t like other men touching you, but at the moment…under Donald’s gaze… you couldn’t care.