The Memoir of Johnny Devine by Camille Eide

few prayers sprinkled in. But
in a way, I suppose it’s like a draft. Most of what’s going into my
memoir comes straight from this.”
    “ I kept a journal after my
parents’ deaths,” she said. “My way of breaking reality down into
more manageable pieces.”
    “ The reality of all you’d
lost.”
    She glanced up. “Yes. Actually, it was more
of an ongoing letter to my mama.”
    Until Ralph tossed it in
the trash. Because, according to him,
anything that took Eliza away from attending to his needs was a
waste of time.
    She swallowed the sting and readied her
pencil. “What next?”
    “ Yes. Well, in spite of my
growing success, something was off-kilter. And getting worse. I’d
never gotten over how Stella had used me, and now, others were
lined up to do the same. Two-timing agents. Dames who only wanted
to be kept in high style. Studio owners who wanted to control my
every move, my life. I no longer knew who I could trust. On top of
that, I worried constantly about my acting. I wondered if I was
being sought after for my talent or just for the image the studio
had created. Any time a critic doubted my talent, I pushed myself
to the limits to prove I was either a superstar or a complete
fraud, one or the other. I started drinking and staying out all
night. I’d show up on the set at the last minute, wearing last
night’s clothes, hungover and scrambling to remember my lines.
Honestly, I don’t know how I pulled it off, but somehow, I did. I
wasn’t going to let anyone tell me I was no good. I was the only
one allowed to do that.” John swirled the water in his glass. “And
throughout all that, there were women.”
    Eliza kept her expression
even. You’re just here to type a book. And
you’re being paid well to do it. She
gripped her pencil and waited.
    John rose and went to the window. “But
that’s all I’m going to say about that for now.”
    Exhaling her relief, Eliza nodded.
    “ About that time, I met
Oscar Silva.” John turned toward Eliza. “From the moment he signed
on as my agent, I gave that man a steep uphill run for his money.
He could barely keep up with all the scandals. Oscar saved my
backside more times than I can count, and he saved the studio a lot
of bad press. They didn’t want to lose all those ticket-buying fans
by letting it leak that I—”
    Air hissed from between his gritted teeth,
and he returned to the window.
    She kept her eyes on the page in front of
her. Avoiding eye contact kept things comfortable. And not just for
John.
    “ That I never slept in the
same place twice.”
    She wrote it exactly as he said it, but the
marks on the page could not convey the shame in his voice.
    “ Anyway,” he went on, “I
was a louse. I still don’t know why Oscar stayed with me as long as
he did.”
    It seemed John was no longer dictating, but
talking to her. She looked up.
    “ As a matter of fact,
we’re still friends to this day, though I certainly don’t deserve
his friendship. Shows you his caliber. He’s a good man.” He let out
a sigh. “A very good, honorable man.”
    Her gaze locked onto his, and something
tugged in her chest. The idea of John admiring another man for his
goodness and honor made her heart heavy.

Everyone knows a realistic actor is either a very good liar or a
very poor one.
    ~ The Devine Truth: A Memoir
     
     
     
     
     
9
     
    By the end of the week, Eliza and John had fallen into a
working rhythm. Friday afternoon, when they had finished their
dictation for the day, Eliza read back over her notes, then turned to John. “Can I
read this last section back to you?”
    “ What am I listening
for?”
    “ I’m thinking we should
insert a little more detail, give the reader the feeling you’re
inviting him or her into your inner circle, so to speak. That’s
what you want in a memoir.” She tapped her pencil on her pad, ideas
already forming for a couple of spots where he could engage the
reader more.
    “ Mrs. Saunderson
…”
    She met his