U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [513]
The road was good and went between miles and miles
of orangegroves. By the time they got to Pasadena the sun had come out and Agnes and Margo declared it was the loveliest place they'd ever seen in their lives. Whenever they passed a particularly beautiful residence Tony would point at it with his finger and say that was where they'd live as soon as he had made the orientations.
They saw signs pointing to Hol ywood, but somehow
they got through the town without noticing it, and drew up in front of a smal rentingofficc in Santa Monica. Al the furnished bungalows the man had listed were too expensive and the man insisted on a month's rent in ad-vance, so they drove on. They ended up in a dusty stucco bungalow court in the outskirts of Venice where the man seemed impressed by the blue Buick and the wardrobe--394-trunk and let them take a place with only a week paid in advance. Margo thought it was horrid but Agnes was in the highest spirits. She said Venice reminded her of Hol-land's in the old days. "That's what gives me the sick," said Margo. Tony went in and col apsed on the couch and Margo had to get the neighbors to help carry in the bags and wardrobetrunk. They lived in that bungalow court for more months than Margo ever liked to admit even at the time. Margo registered at the agency as Margo de Garrido. She got taken on in society scenes as extra right away on account of her good clothes and a kind of a way of wearing them she had that she'd picked up at old Piquot's. Tony sat in the agency and loafed around outside the gate of any studio where there was a Spanish or South American pic-ture being cast, wearing a broadbrimmed Cordoba hat he'd bought at a costumer's and tightwaisted trousers and some-times cowboy boots and spurs, but the one thing there always seemed to be enough of was Latin types. He turned morose and peevish and took to driving the car around fil ed up with simpering young men he'd picked up, until Margo put her foot down and said it was her car and nobody else's, and not to bring his fagots around the house either. He got sore at that and walked out, but Agnes, who did the housekeeping and handled al the money Margo brought home, wouldn't let him have any pocketmoney until he'd apologized. Tony was away two days and came back looking hungry and hangdog.
After that Margo made him wear the old chauffeur's
uniform when he drove her to the lot. She knew that if he wore that he wouldn't go anywhere after he'd left her except right home to change and then Agnes could take the car key. Margo would come home tired from a long day on the lot to find that he'd been hanging round the house al day strumming It Ain't Gonna Rain No More on his guitar, and sleeping and yawning on al the beds and
-395-dropping cigaretteashes everywhere. He said Margo had ruined his career. What she hated most about him was the way he yawned.
One Sunday, after they had been three years in the out-skirts of L. A., moving from one bungalow to another, Margo getting on the lots fairly consistently as an extra, but never getting noticed by a director, managing to put aside a little money to pay the interest but never getting together enough in a lump sum to bail out her jewelry at the bank in Miami, they had driven up to Altadena in the afternoon; on the way back they stopped at a garage to get a flat fixed; out in front of the garage there were some secondhand cars for sale. Margo walked up and down look-ing at them to have something to do while they were waiting. "You wouldn't like a Rol s-Royce, would you, lady?" said the garage attendant kind of kidding as he pul ed the jack out from under the car. Margo climbed into the big black limousine with a red coatofarms on the door and tried the seat. It certainly was comfortable. She leaned out and said, "How much is it?""One thousand dol ars . . . it's a gift at