Lucky Charm

By Chace Verity

In the silent film era, deaf actor Gilbert Wilton's handsome and expressive face is all he needs to be a star. As talkies start taking over the film industry, though, Gilbert's long-time partner and director leaves him. At the apex of heartbreak and a career going up in flames, Gilbert returns home one night to find his house being burgled--by his childhood best friend.

Even after decades apart, Quill Phillips is as untrustworthy (and attractive) as ever. When Quill offers to do anything for Gilbert in exchange for letting him go, an idea pops into the actor's head.

It's a petty act of revenge, but the director has a lucky charm he never shoots a movie without. With Gilbert's intimate knowledge of the director's home and Quill's infiltration skills, the pair set out to steal the lucky charm--and, unintentionally, each other's hearts.

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Lucky Charm is a standalone historical romance novella.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chace Verity
• Release date: Dec 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223743774

Book preview

August 1, 1928

3:34 p.m.

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It’s impossible to follow a conversation with Vernon when he’s got a mouth full of scalloped corn. He keeps going on about how Lights of New York inspired him. While we technically saw the motion picture together, Vernon obviously got more out of it than I did. Helene Costello and Cullen Landis were both gorgeous, but I couldn’t fully grasp the story since it was a talkie. Talkies apparently don’t come with helpful title cards.

I poke at my mashed potatoes and nod along. I’m excellent at lip-reading, but there’s not much I can do if the person won’t face me directly and enunciate clearly.

People easily forget I’m deaf, but Vernon has no reason to be remiss. Though, since we never communicate with hand signs as Vernon never learned any, perhaps Vernon can be forgiven.

What’s Vernon going on about, anyway? He has that look in his eyes he always gets when he’s plotting his next film. The same look I have always been weak to, both as his favorite actor to cast and as his companion in the bedroom.

There’s no better director in Hollywood than Vernon Forsythe.

Vernon sets his fork down and takes a swig of his milk. So you agree with me?

About your next movie? I verbalize, hoping I understood everything he was going on about.

He rolls his eyes, as if I’m the one being difficult. I’m not the one who had baked vegetables in his mouth while talking.

Since Vernon hates making a fuss in public, I politely gesture for him to repeat himself. I don’t necessarily want to blow up in the middle of this diner, either, with how frustrating he can be about communicating with me. No need to give people a reason to gossip.

I was saying, Vernon gestures vaguely between us, I think it’s best we part ways.

My frown deepens as I replay the movement of his lips in my head. This is not a film I enjoy watching, much less participating in.

Is he firing me or breaking up with me?

Though, at this point in our relationship, I’m not sure the options are mutually exclusive.

What? is all I can force out.

Vernon leans across the table. I’m done with you, Gilbert.

Breaking up. So abruptly? After seven years of stolen kisses on Laguna Beach and building our forever home on his property?

I swallow the bile rising up my throat. Why?

There are plenty of handsome men who can talk well, he says.

Firing. He’s firing me.

Everything clicks into place as I think about his last two words. Not just fired. Replaced.

I slam my hands on the table. But I’m your best actor!

"Shh. He bobs his head around, making sure no one is watching us. You’re a good actor, but your face won’t carry you anymore. I can’t use you in talkies."

Anger shoots through my veins. I can act just as well in talkies as I can in regular pictures.

He shakes his head. "Didn’t you see Lights of New York? That’s the future. I need an actor who can go to the future with me. You can talk, but it doesn’t sound right."

The urge to throw my potatoes in his face spreads through my hands. Instead, I fold my arms across my chest and continue glaring at him. You’ll never find a better actor than me. You need me.

Vernon reaches into the interior pocket of his brown wool suit and pulls out a wooden trinket. It’s not my first or even hundredth time seeing this item. The worn, scratched blank domino piece is a relic of Vernon’s childhood. He never shoots a movie without it.

I don’t need you, he says. I have my lucky charm. Everything’s going to be fine without you. And I do mean everything.

This weasel. Breaking up with me and firing me in public so I won’t pitch a fit.

With words having always been a superfluous part of my life, I extend my middle finger in Vernon’s direction.

He puts his lucky charm back in his pocket and leaves. I let my middle finger wave good-bye to him, not caring how immature it is for a 35-year-old to do that.

Ten years professionally and seven romantically apparently mean nothing to him. He didn’t even