Studio Relations: Love in the Golden Age of Hollywood

By Georgie Lee

In 1935, Vivien Howard is the only female director at Lion Studios. She has a string of hits and a passion for her latest project, the Civil War love story Storm of the South.

Weston Holmes is the handsome partner of Holmes International, the parent company of Lion Studios. Averse to risk and focused on the bottom line, he's worried that audiences won't accept an epic war picture directed by a young woman.

With Hollywood in the midst of the Great Depression, and the Women's Decency League railing against working women, Vivien struggles to convince Weston that she is the best director to make this movie. When a publicity mishap lands them in a staged marriage of convenience, Vivien and Weston must learn to overcome their differences to finish the film and find their Hollywood ending.

A clean historical romance steeped in the glamour of the golden age of Hollywood with echoes of the making of Gone with the Wind. An excellent addition to the library of anyone who loves the classic Hollywood novels of Martin Turnbull, Kate Alcott, and Amanda Quick.

"Lee continues to captivate. Book two in her Business of Marriage series is another great marriage of convenience. There's tension, turmoil and drama on every page. Riveting." - 4 Stars RT Book Reviews on A Too Convenient Marriage

"Lee takes readers on an uncomplicated, but sexy romp..." - RT Book Reviews on
A Debt Paid in Marriage

"Lee's novel hits the sweet spot." - RT Book Reviews on Engagement of Convenience

• Language: English
• Publisher: Georgie Lee
• Release date: Mar 26, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311266552

Georgie Lee

Georgie Lee loves combining her passion for history and storytelling through romantic fiction. She began writing professionally at a local TV station before moving to Hollywood to work in the entertainment industry.  When not writing, Georgie enjoys reading non-fiction history and watching any movie with a costume and an accent. Please visit  www.georgie-lee.com for more information about Georgie and her books.  

Book preview

Studio Relations

By

Georgie Lee

Please visit www.Georgie-Lee.com for more information about Georgie and her books.

Other Novels & Novellas by Georgie Lee

Lady’s Wager

A Debt Paid in Marriage* - Book #1 in the Business of Marriage series

A Too Convenient Marriage* - Book #2 in the Business of Marriage series

The Secret Marriage Pact* - Book #3 in the Business of Marriage series

Rescued from Ruin* - Book #1 in the Scandal and Disgrace series

Miss Marianne’s Disgrace - Book #2 in the Scandal and Disgrace series

The Cinderella Governess – Book #1 in the Governess Tales series

It Happened One Christmas*

The Captain’s Frozen Dream*

The Courtesan’s Book of Secrets*

Engagement of Convenience*

A Little Legal Luck - novella

Hero’s Redemption – novella

Mask of the Gladiator – novella

Rock ‘n’ Roll Reunion - novella

Copyright © 2012 by Georgie Lee

Studio Relations is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manor whatsoever without written permission of the author.

Published in the United States.

First Publishing, Montlake Romance, 2012

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter One

Hollywood 1935

Vivien Howard marched into Earl Holmes’s office and threw the script on his desk. "Storm of the South. This is it. This is the picture I want to direct next."

Earl picked up the script and flipped through it, unfazed. The Civil War? It’s been done, and badly.

Not the way I’m going to do it.

I read the script a couple of months back. It’s a war movie. A woman can’t direct a war movie. He tossed the script onto his large mahogany desk and leaned back in his leather chair, his hands clasped over his round belly, his graying eyebrows knitted as his eyes bored into her.

Earl’s imposing attitude would have cowed a lesser director, but Vivien had played this game too many times with the old studio head to be scared off now. It’s a love story set during a war.

The Civil War.

I know exactly how I’m going to shoot it. She sat down on Earl’s plush leather sofa and flicked back her shoulder length curly blonde hair. She crossed her legs, thankful Miss Hepburn’s popularity had made wearing trousers respect able. Even if the Women’s Decency League proclaimed pants the ruin of womankind, Vivien preferred them to skirts and always made sure they were femininely tailored to complement her slender figure. Being one of only a few female directors in Hollywood, she played a man’s game, but she was always careful to remain a lady. Her career depended on this tightrope walk.

Earl leaned back in his chair and studied her. She knew he was intrigued, but she also knew he hated to let directors think they were getting their way, even if they were.

The boys in New York won’t like the idea of a woman directing a war movie, he replied, selecting a cigar from the humidor on his desk.

If you pitch it right, they’ll love this project.

But I’ve got to love it first. He clipped off the end of the cigar and placed it between his lips. Vivien picked up the large silver lighter from his desk, popped open the cap, sparked the flame, and held it out to him.

You love the money my films make. You also love how good my successful films make you look to the boys in New York.

Earl leaned forward and lit his cigar, then sat back in his chair, slowly drawing in the smoke. Who’d you have in mind for the lead?

Vivien knew she had him. She snapped closed the lighter and set it aside. Peter Davies. He’s perfect.

He’s a supporting actor. You need a leading man with box office draw, someone like Gary Roth.

Vivien perched on the edge of his desk. Peter has leading man potential. All he needs is the right role, and this is it.

And the fact that you two are dating?

Has nothing to do with it. Vivien was on shaky ground, and she knew it.

The boys in New York are going to insist on a big star, especially when they get wind that I’m letting you direct a war movie, Earl protested.

Vivien fixed him with a serious look. It’s a love story, and you know it. It’s also the best script to come across my desk in years, and I’m the best director to do it.

We still need a star to headline it.

And we’ll have one when I cast the female lead.

Earl chewed on the end of his cigar, eyeing her. Fine. You can do it. Start tomorrow.

I’ll start today. Vivien jumped to her feet. She’d been planning the film on the sly for weeks and relished the chance to finally work on it out in the open.

Earl shook his head, snatching the black phone off the receiver. I don’t let any of my stars push me around half as much as you do.

Vivien smiled over her shoulder as she made her way to the door. That’s because no one makes as much money for you as I do.

Don’t make me regret this, Vivien, Earl called out after her.

You won’t, I promise. She winked, then slipped out the door.

Vivien sauntered past Earl’s secretary and through the large glass double doors onto the lot. Earl’s office was at the far end of Lion Studios, in a showcase building of art deco curves, white plaster, and glass. Passing through a city street facade, she was soon deep in the heart of the studio, with its wide alleys and endless rows of soundstages, offices, and trailers.

She knew Earl was on the phone right now lining things up so she could start production. He’d call publicity first to get the word out to the press; then he’d contact all the other department heads and let them know the picture was in the pipeline. One perk of working for a big studio like Lion was that things moved fast because the studio had the resources and talent to make it happen.

Hey, Vivien! a lighting man called as she walked by an open soundstage.

Hey, Stan. She waved, taking in the hustle and bustle around her. Chorus girls hurried back from lunch at the commissary in the center of the lot, their feathered skirts dangling about their legs. Grips and cameramen rushed around with their equipment, past extras dressed like medieval lords and ladies sitting outside the studio doors, reading or knitting as they waited for their scene. Men pushing large lights walked by yelling greetings to each other, while messengers bicycled around the lot delivering the latest script pages.

Vivien reached a long two-story building tucked into the shadows between a high studio wall and an even more massive soundstage. She rapped on the third door from the left with two quick knocks and then strolled inside.

The room was narrow and drab. A wooden table stood near the window, with a small metal fan humming away. Next to it was a dressing mirror missing three of its lights. Although Peter was a well-established supporting actor at Lion Studios, he didn’t have the drawing power to command a better dressing room.

Vivien stopped with her hand on the doorknob, trying not to laugh. Peter was dressed in a red doublet, green tights, and pointy velvet shoes, compliments of his latest role. She cocked a curious eyebrow at him, and he shrugged before nodding to the other two people in the room.

Vivien, you’re just in time to meet Timmy and his mother, Mrs. Stanton. Peter swept her toward the little boy in denim pants and a striped T-shirt. He leaned on a pair of wooden crutches and a white cast decorated his left leg. His mother, dressed in a plain flower-print dress with a small hat pinned over her dark hair, stood behind him. Where Timmy’s face glowed with excitement, his mother looked thin and tired. Timmy and his mother are visiting the lot today. Mrs. Stanton, Timmy, I’d like you to meet the famous director Vivien Howard.

A pleasure to meet you. Vivien held out her hand.

The woman shook it enthusiastically, her face lighting up. Oh, Miss Howard, I love your films.

Thank you. I always enjoy meeting a fan. Vivien bent over, putting her hands on her knees. How about you, Timmy? What kind of films do you like?

Westerns, Timmy lisped. Cowboys are the best.

Cowboys are pretty nifty. Have you seen one yet today?

The boy shook his head. No, ma’am, but Mr. Davies said I’ll meet some this afternoon.

Peter dropped down on one knee beside Timmy. "After lunch, I’m taking Timmy and his mother to the Montana Rustlers set.

I hear John Wade is working on set today, Vivien added.

The smile on Timmy’s freckled face widened to reveal one missing front tooth. Do you think he’ll sign my cast?

I bet he will, but if he gives you any guff, you tell him Miss Howard told him to sign it or else. She winked at Timmy, and he giggled.

A young production assistant poked his head in the door. Mr. Davies, I’m ready to take your guests over to the props department.

Thanks, James. Peter rose, playfully ruffling Timmy’s hair. Afterward, please escort Timmy and his mother to the commissary. Charge their lunch to my account.

Can I have anything I want? Timmy asked before Mrs. Stanton placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.

Timmy, that’s not polite.

It’s fine—and yes, Timmy, you can have anything you want, including chocolate cake.

That’s swell. Thanks, Mr. Davies.

You’re welcome. Now, go with James, and I’ll meet up with you both when I’m finished shooting my scene.

James helped Timmy maneuver his crutches through the doorway. Mrs. Stanton followed close behind, stopping briefly to take Peter’s hands. Thank you so much, Mr. Davies. You don’t know how much this means to us.

He patted her arm. It’s my pleasure.

She followed James and Timmy outside, and Peter closed the door behind them.

Sweet kid, Vivien offered, leaning against Peter’s dressing table.

A friend of mine from med school called and asked if I’d show them around. Father is on the breadline, mother works nights, and Timmy is upset about missing baseball on account of his leg. My friend thought a trip to the studio might cheer them up.

I’d say it worked, and it was a sweet thing for you to do. Vivien slid away from the table and hugged him, placing a soft kiss on his lips. Even if you are dressed like a fool.

She expected him to laugh, but instead, he dropped his arms from around her waist and stepped back, looking down at his ridiculous costume with a frown. I could have been working with kids like him all the time if I’d stayed in med school. Instead, I’m playing the goofy sidekick again.

He snatched the open script off the sofa and handed it to her. She thumbed through it. It was an action film with a good bit of romance thrown in for fun. Made on the cheap, it would turn a nice profit. Even with people going to the movies to escape their troubles at home, the lean years since the stock market crash had taken their toll. With the depression still raging, the one thing Lion needed was profit. It’s not a bad role. You’re prominent.

I’m tired of these roles.

With any luck, it’ll be your last.

Hope filled his eyes. "You spoke to Earl and he approved it? I’m going to play the lead in Storm of the South?"

Vivien hesitated. Not in so many words, but I’ve been doing this long enough to know when Earl Holmes likes an idea.

Peter’s face clouded over. If he didn’t promise you today, he won’t give me the part.

He will. But you know Earl, he doesn’t like directors to think they’re getting their way.

Peter picked up his jester hat and smashed it down on his head. I came to California to be a doctor. I never thought I’d be reduced to a jester.

Vivien adjusted the floppy points on the hat, pushing them back off his forehead. Come on, it’s not so bad. Gary Roth wears tights, and women are throwing themselves at him.

You’re the only woman throwing herself at me.

Can I get your autograph, Mr. Davies? She kissed him passionately, surprised by his tepid response. She stopped, ready to say something about it, when a high-voiced assistant yelled through the door.

You’re wanted on the set, Mr. Davies.

Off again to humiliate myself, Peter sighed, holding open the door for Vivien.

She stepped out into the sunlight, halting to avoid a collision with a prop man running by with a stuffed antelope head.

Sometimes I think I should go back to med school, Peter mused as they crossed the narrow alley to the soundstage. I only had one year left when the scout found me.

And give up all of this? Vivien waved to a group of starlets dressed as cancan girls.

Be serious, Vivien. Don’t you ever get tired of Hollywood?

Vivien shook her head. I was born and raised in it. It’s all I know, and I love it. The excitement, the creativity—

The humiliation.

Cheer up, Peter. Today you’re in tights. Tomorrow you might be accepting an Academy Award. You have to admit it’s exciting.

He didn’t have a chance to answer as they walked onto the soundstage where a plywood-and-cardboard recreation of a medieval castle stood at the far end. Today Peter was in a dream sequence, the comic foil to the swashbuckling hero. As he stepped onto the set, Vivien tossed off greetings to the sound guys, the script girl, and the makeup artist. Breathing in the sharp scents of plywood, coffee, burning dust on hot lights, and acid-smelling film stock, she knew she could never leave this. It was in her blood.

While Peter went over his lines with the dialect coach, Vivien sat down in his folding chair at the back of the soundstage. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Lou, the studio publicist, a fat, balding, worried little man, making a beeline for her. She looked around for a quick escape, but there wasn’t any. Screwing on a wide smile, she knew she had no choice but to face him.

Vivien, I’ve been looking all over for you. He patted the sweat from his head with a white handkerchief. I went over the dress selection with Eve. She’ll bring them over to your bungalow. I recommend the white one; it suggests purity.

Lou, it’s a premiere, not church.

Says you. That dragon from the Women’s Decency League is going to be there, so you have to behave. The car will pick you up at six; please be on time tonight.

Why? It’s not my film.

No, but next time it will be. Oh, there’s Shelly, I have to speak with her. She’ll be at your place at five to do your makeup—and this time, please cooperate. Lou waddled off.

I always cooperate, Vivien called after him, and he snorted disbelievingly before cornering Shelly with a set of instructions she was sure were meant for her.

If there’s one thing I hate about Hollywood, it’s publicity, Vivien mumbled to herself.

A necessary evil, a masculine voice offered from beside her. She turned to see Weston Holmes standing next to her.

Speaking of evil, Vivien thought, still not entirely over the last time she’d seen Weston, when he