Love (1927)

A few historical notes: Greta & John were silent movie stars said to have great chemistry, rumors of an affair. They stared in a movie 'Love' which came out 1927. Model Ford A came out 1927.

Short hair and shorter dresses, big feathers, flappers, saxophones, nice and absolutely naughty.

It was 1927 and a pretty time to be alive.

Billie Jane Brandy decided to celebrate her graduation from that dreadful private ladies' school by going out and cutting short those blonde curls everyone always cooed over and buying herself a pack of Lucky Strikes. Freedom was on her mind that first day of summer, as it would be for the next three months.

She spent the day shopping and winking at men from across the street, showing off a short scarlet dress that should have stayed at the show and red boa that made her feel like Greta Garbo. All she needed was her John Gilbert, and oh, was she determined to meet him before the night was over.

But when Billie came upon Richard Keaton and his friends, she lost all hope of finding her John Gilbert.

Men these days. She marched away from the group of snickering boys. They'd mocked her, and had dared try to touch her. She was furious.

From behind, she heard a husky voice. “Hey, doll, we didn't mean nothing, I swear.”

Billie swung around, intending to yell at the boy. Then she caught sight of him. Very tall, very handsome; he even had a perfectly trimmed pencil mustache. So, instead of telling him to leave her alone, she ended up spluttering.

“Says you.”

He laughed. “Real sorry about them. They're real saps sometimes.”

Billie was unable to tear her eyes from his face. “I'll say.”

“Name's Richard Keaton.”

She responded breathlessly. “Billie Jane Brandy.”

“Billie. Let me buy you a Coca-Cola, doll.” Richard winked.

Blushing, she nodded. “That'd be swell.”

At the end of the night, Richard handed Billie a piece of paper with his number and said he'd like to see her again. Billie watched him walk off, her face a mask of wonder and childish joy.

The first night of Summer, the first day of Freedom, and Greta Garbo had found her John Gilbert.

“What do you say we take a drive today?” Richard had shown up at Billie's door with a bouquet of roses and one of his crooked grins.

“Ab-so-lute-ly. Let me get my hat.” Billie rushed through her house, grabbing her cloche hat and kissing her parents goodbye. She'd finally let them meet Richard two months ago, and they had reluctantly approved.

“No need to get dolled up, baby.” Richard gave her a kiss when she reappeared.

“Where we going?”

“Why, got somewhere to be?”

“I'm already there.” She sat down and they were off in Richard's new Ford Model A, leaving Chicago behind.

Richard glanced over, noticing a frown on Billie's face.

“What's eating you?”

“Police following us. Look.”

Richard spun around and cursed as he recognized the black and white car.

“Pull over,” Billie urged him, but he ignored her and hit the gas. The car behind them sped up too, lights flashing.

“Richard!”

“Fine,” he snapped, pulling over. The policeman walked up to the car.

“Richard Keaton?”

“That's me.” He grumbled, not looking up.

“Sir, what's this about? My Richard is a good boy. I've been with him practically three months, he hasn't done nothing.”

“This young man's been manufacturing and selling alcohol.”

“Baloney! Richard would never-”

Richard interrupted her. “Billie, don't.”

She turned, shocked, to him. “What? Are you saying you haven't been level with me?”

“Doll, it wasn't much. I needed money to-”

“To what, Rick? I can't believe you wouldn't tell me!”

“It never came up.”

Tears sprang to Billie's eyes. “You lied to me!”

“No, baby, don't say that.”

“Well, it's true.”

The policeman coughed. “Mr. Keaton.”

Richard climbed out of the car. “Billie, don't leave me. Sure, I did some bad things but I still love you. I'll always love you.”

Three months later, just as autumn was ending and the snow had begun to fall, she watched expressionless as Richard was pronounced guilty. As he was led away to three years of steel bars, he looked at her. From across the court she heard his words- “Hey, doll. I didn't mean nothing. I swear.”

Billie felt her whole body throb and melt. “Says you.”'

Seven years later and the world was a different place. Backless, feminine gowns that touched the floor replaced the frilly flapper-girls, things were glamorous- if you could afford them. For Billie Jane Brandy, that was not the case. She had become just another twenty-six year old woman trying to survive in the streets of Chicago.

It was 1935 and a desperate time to be alive.

The time for sweaters had come as the suns of summer set and autumn arrived. Billie had scrambled together what few dollars she had and headed down to the shops, praying she might find some discounted jacket that would keep the chills away. She wrapped a scarf over her blond locks, already beginning to gray, and headed out in an oversized coat. She kept her head down as she searched through clothes racks, finally coming up with a few affordable items.

And then a voice from the past floated over her shoulder. “Billie Jane Brandy?”

She swung around, her jaw dropping when she recognized her old summer lover. He looked like he hadn't suffered much in the Depression; his hair was slicked back and he wore a ironed suit. He was the same, the height, the looks, even the mustache that had become so popular in recent years as young Errol Flynn took his rise in fame.

“Why, Richard Keaton.”

“You remember me?”

“Of course.”

He laughed, shaking his head and looking up. “Why, it been-”

“Seven years,” she answered quickly. “Since you-”

“Left.”

Both nodded. His lies and her tears were best left in the past. That was over. That was the 20's.

“Hey, I was wondering, you wanna go out... for a drink?”

Billie's cheeks turned pink and she looked away. “Oh, I'd love to but-”

“Who's he? One of daddy's friends?” A young boy ran over pulled on Billie's skirt.

“No, dear. ” Billie didn't look away from Richard. “Rick, this is my son, John Richard Karther.”

Richard stared at her with an unreadable expression. “Oh. John Richard... Karther. He's beautiful, Billie.”

She half-smiled, her eyes turning glossy. “There's another one coming.”

His eyes slid down to her stomach, and for a moment he seemed unable to speak. “Congratulations, Billie Jane.” He took his pocket watch out and looked at it. “I really should get going.”

He turned to leave, but she caught his arm. “I would like to see you again. Here.” She pulled a scrap out of her purse and scribbled down a few numbers. “We have a lot to catch up on over a glass of Coca-Cola.”

Richard showed a hint of his old crooked smiled. “That'd be great.” He took the paper and left. Billie watched him go, holding the hand of her four year-old son. For the first time in seven years, she felt like a glamorous movie star. In her tattered scarf and hand-me-down jacket, she stood there, gleaming like Greta Garbo.

And Richard would always be her John Gilbert.

Reviews

[Marie]

Very good story. Greta Garbo and John Gilbert did have a very passionate love affair. He was the only man she ever loved, and I think he drank himself out of the business.

have litttle liking for love stories, but yours are too good to pass up.