The Next Mrs. Rock Hudson?

In the house next door to his, Rock sat quietly in the corner by himself, watching.

His buddy Don Burnett and his girlfriend Cindy Robbins were putting the final touches on a very special steak dinner, and laughing at some private joke. Cindy reached for the salad forks and at the same moment Don bent down to kiss her. She dropped them and they laughed again as they kissed again and dived after the forks.

Rock just sat there, thinking. Don and Cindy were so happy together, so in love. Once he too had been . . . but now it seemed so long ago, he could hardly remember. . . .

He had been so lonely since his separation from Phyllis. Oh, he knew that their love was dead, that there was no hope of ever bringing back the happiness they once shared. He himself was too unhappy now, too unhappy even to enjoy an evening with one of the many girls who kept his phone ringing, who invited him to parties, who suggested that an evening on the town would be a marvelous cure for the blues. Too unhappy inside to fling himself into a new romance. So he kept to himself, hiding away on his yacht, with only a few close friends for company.

Then his friends began to drift away. If Rock wanted to be a hermit, well, after all, it wasn’t much fun having a moody guy around, moping by himself, talking to no one.

But Rock had one good friend left.

His next-door neighbor Don.

Don knew it wouldn’t do any good to try to draw Rock out of his shell with a big bang-up party. But Don, and the pretty girl he was unofficially engaged to, Cindy Robbins, had put their heads together and decided to try to make him one of the family. If Rock could begin to feel that two people really liked him, liked him enough to put up with his moods, his silences—and his rejections, they figured maybe pretty soon he’d feel ready to open his heart and his life to another woman . . . hopefully to a wife.

So on evenings when Cindy’d come over to Don’s house to cook a special steak and baked potatoes for him, they’d look at each other and say, “Let’s see if Rock wouldn’t like to join us.”

And Don would run next door, where like as not Rock would be sitting alone, staring out at the sunset, and announce, “Say, buddy, my gal Cindy has got the greatest steak going under the broiler right now. But you know what? That silly kid is cooking enough for an army. You could do us both a big favor if you’d come over and help us eat some of it. . . .”

And Rock, deep in his misery, would mumble, “Oh no, Don, you and Cindy want to be alone . . . I know how it is with young lovers.”

And Don would insist, “Come on, old man, don’t let me down. I don’t want my darling to realize what a lousy shopper she is. She thinks she’s buying for two, and all she’s doing is buying up the supermarket.”

“Well, I don’t know, I thought I’d drive down to Googie’s and get me a hamburger or something. Besides, I’m not hungry.”

And Don would pretend to let it go, and start to leave.

Then at the door, he’d turn and ask casually, “Say, Rock, you happen to have some sour cream in your refrigerator? We were going to fix the potatoes the way you showed me. . . .”

And a couple of hours later, three well-fed, happy people would be running along the beach, shouting, “Come on in, the water’s fine!”

And little by little, Rock began to pull himself together and face up to the world. He began to realize that here were two people who were an awful lot of fun to be with. Don, a struggling actor who hadn’t been in anything very important yet . . . and Cindy, a pretty blue-eyed girl with hair the color of champagne, only twenty-two, but with all the kindness and understanding of a woman much older. Rock wished with all his heart that he could do something for them. Here he had gotten so much from life—riches, fame—and yet had such a heavy heart that he wasn’t much good to anyone. And here they hadn’t had a break yet . . . but they did have what was important—happy hearts . . . and love.

And so when Universal was looking for a girl to play Buz Dietrick in This Earth Is Mine, a picture Rock was starring in, what could be more natural than for Rock to suggest Cindy?

And when Rock and Cindy took off for Napa, in Northern California, for six weeks of location shots, what could be more natural than that these two friends should spend most of their time together . . . ?

Up in Napa, the whole company stayed at one big motel and took their meals together. Cindy wondered how Rock would react to this—he wasn’t exactly gregarious yet.

Then she remembered something Don had said about his pal: “Keep an eye on him, darling; don’t let him get too lonely.”

So Cindy took a walk down to Rock’s cabin and knocked at the door.

At first there was no answer: then, “Yeah?” in a voice that clearly said, “Don’t bother me.”

But when Rock saw who was bothering him, his face lit up and he said, “It’s sure good to see you.”

They talked for a few minutes, small talk, and after a while, Rock said, “Well, I suppose we might as well face dinner. Coming, Cindy?”

“I’m not sure I’m going to eat in the commissary tonight, Rock,” Cindy said slowly. “I suppose I’ll have to, because I don’t have my car, but I’d just love to drive around and explore some of the restaurants in the Valley.”

“Oh, you can take my car,” Rock of_ fered. “I didn’t know you wanted to go out.”

“Well . . . um, thanks,” Cindy said after a pause. She shrugged her shoulders very slightly and got up from her chair.

“Wait, Cindy,” Rock said then, “do you think you could stand some company . . . ?”

A heart-to-heart talk

“. . . and can you image, Rock, I was a chorus girl at nine years old!” They were lingering over coffee, and Cindy was talking up a storm. She had never talked much about herself before. Maybe she had been too busy drawing Rock out then, but asking her all about her childhood.

“What do you mean a chorus girl?” he said.

“Well, I’d taken ballet lessons since I was a toddler. My mother had been a professional dancer, and she sort of pushed dancing at me. Not that I minded!

“The lessons started in Hammond, Louisiana, where I was born, and by the time we got to Glendale, California, practically every minute I wasn’t in school I was dancing.

“Then, when I was nine, I tried out with a hundred other candidates for the chorus line at the Greek Theater in Los Angeles. And I got the job.”

“Quite an honor, I’d say,” Rock commented.

“Oh, I was very proud. I even got paid. It was my first salary—a dollar a night.”

Rock laughed, and then grew serious. “Cindy,” he said, touching her hand, “I’m very glad you’re here. It’s great to have someone from home to talk to.”

“Well, hey, it’s great to have such a good listener.”

The waiter came over to their table.

“Check, sir?”

“No, I think we’d like another cup of coffee—I mean, you’d like to stay, wouldn’t you, Cindy. . . .?

Cindy smiled to herself. That look of strain had lifted from Rock’s face, and for the first time in a long time conversation didn’t seem to be such an effort to him. She hoped he was enjoying himself as much as she was.

“ . . . So you were already in the big-money league at nine,” Rock was saying . . . “Then what?”

“Oh there’s more,” Cindy said. “By the time I was eleven, I was featured in Ken Murray’s Blackouts, and this time I was making $35 a week. I was the youngest member of the cast and I had firmly decided to devote my life to dancing.

“But when I got to Glendale High School, I discovered something much more satisfying than dancing—the high school plays. I threw myself into learning all I could about acting techniques. I won first place at a drama festival, and by then I knew the most important thing in the world for me was to become a professional actress.

She knew what she wanted

“So my parents—they’re just darling, Rock, I hope you can meet them sometime—they agreed to let me study and finish high school at the School for Young Professionals in New York. After that I did quite a few TV shows—and then I got my first big break.”

“Hollywood beckoned?” Rock guessed.

“No, Shirley Booth chose me to play with her in By the Beautiful Sea. Oh it was wonderful being in a play with Shirley Booth; I learned so much. And, it ran on Broadway for ten months!

“The Coast came next. I was very lucky. Dorothy McGuire wanted me for the lead in The Vacant Lot at the La Jolla Playhouse . . . then there were more TV shows out here . . . and, well, you know the rest: this role in The Earth Is Mine.”

Rock hadn’t taken his eyes off Cindy as she sketched her life story for him. “You always knew what you wanted, and you went after it, and you got it,” he said thoughtfully. “When I was a kid, I used to dream about being a movie star, but I never did anything about it. Not much, anyway. Just a few school plays, and I did sing in the First Congregational Church choir in Winnetka—”

“Oh did you really?” Cindy interrupted eagerly. “I used to teach Sunday School myself. And the YWCA—I used to teach classes there.”

The waiter came over and stood by their table. “I’m sorry, sir, the restaurant’s closing now.”

“Why, I had no idea it was so late,” said Rock, surprised.

He paid the check and he and Cindy walked out to Rock’s convertible. The night was warm and the breezes gently ruffled Cindy’s hair. She leaned back and looked up at the blue-black sky and the bright twinkling stars. As they drove along the empty road, she glanced over at Rock and noticed that the corners of his lips were turned up in the beginnings of a smile.

Neither of them said very much, but it was a good silence, a companionable silence . . . the silence of two people who understood each other well enough not to need words. . . .

Rock stopped the car outside Cindy’s door. “Good night,” he said, “it’s been a very pleasant evening.”

Cindy laughed shyly. “I’m afraid I kind of monopolized the conversation—”

“No,” Rock said, “I wanted to learn more about you, Cindy . . . and besides, sometimes I’d rather just listen.”

And he reached over and his lips brushed her forehead lightly. And lightly he said, “That’s for luck.”

Inside her motel room Cindy sat in her champagne-colored housecoat, slowly brushing her hair . . . Her eyes were dreamy, unseeing, far away. Suddenly she focused on the image in the mirror. She caught her breath. What in the world are you thinking of, she told herself sharply. After all, how does that old expression go—‘what’s a little kiss among friends . . .?’ 

Inside his motel room, Rock ground out a cigarette and lit another one. I don’t understand this, he said to himself, feeling like this . . . I thought I never would again . . . but not Don’s girl. . . not Don’s girl. . . .

The rumors begin

A few days later, a difficult scene was scheduled. In it, Rock is wounded and pinned under a car. A few rehearsals of that scene, and Rock really felt wounded. Every muscle in his back was in knots. He felt he’d never straighten up again. “Is there a doctor in the house?” he groaned, his eyes shut in pain.

Cindy had heard him and came over. She had been deliberately avoiding him since the night they had gone to dinner.

She wanted some time alone to straighten out the strange emotions that had been going on inside her, feelings she wouldn’t, couldn’t believe.

But Rock needed her now—if he knew it or not. Cindy’s mother had passed on to her all the show business tricks she’d known as a dancer—and she knew all the ways to get the kinks out of a tired body. Now Cindy knew, too.

“Rock,” she said softly, “I can help you.”

He opened his eyes. He stopped groaning. “Cindy—”

“Now you just lie down here,” she said, very business-like. “Take off your shirt.”

And her gentle hands, surely, swiftly, began to ease the agony out of Rock’s aching muscles.

When she was done, Rock sat up and impulsively threw his arms around her. “Cindy,” he exclaimed, “you’ve made me a new man!” And just as impulsively planted a resounding kiss on her surprised lips.

And that’s where the rumors may have started. Just a big, brotherly kiss—anyone might have done the same. But. for the rest of the afternoon, whenever Cindy’d look up from the script she was studying, sed find Rock’s eyes burning into hers. . . .

When the day’s shooting was done, Rock asked her, “Would you have dinner with me tonight? There’s—there’s something I want to talk about. . . .”

Yes, Cindy thought, we’d better get it over with now. . . .

So they did go to dinner, back to the little restaurant they had first discovered. And they ordered Beef Stroganoff, and a good wine, and they talked. They talked about Rock’s interest in doing a Broadway play, and they talked about the volunteer work Cindy was doing with religious organizations in Malibu, and they talked about the places in the world they’d like to visit some day. But they didn’t talk about the thing they’d come to talk about.

And when Rock brought her home, he kissed her good night, not on the forehead as before; on her lips, sweetly, gently. Rock looked away acre and started to say, meant to say, Cindy, we can’t go on like this.

Cindy put her hand out and started to open the car door, started to say, Rock, I think it would be better if we didn’t see each—

And suddenly, at the same moment, they both knew they couldn’t say the words they had to say. . . .

Not like before

The next week end Don came up for a visit.

The three old friends went around together, went driving together, swimming together, eating together.

Like before.

But not quite. It wasn’t really the same. And they all knew it.

But none of them spoke of it . . . What could three good, decent people say to change what could not be helped. . . ?

Don left for Malibu; Cindy and Rock saw him off, and then Cindy went right to her room. And she lay there on her bed, thinking, praying, Oh God, help me know the right thing to do . . . Oh God, help me. . . .

And that is the story as far as it is known.

Rumors had spread the story of the love of Rock and Cindy, some of them false, as rumors often are . . . and some of them true. Rock and Cindy have denied there was anything between them. They may deny their feelings to the world now, but the time may come when they can no longer deny their feelings to their hearts. Cindy wants to be kind and she would never consciously hurt anyone’s feelings, particularly not Don’s—for he needs her much more than Rock does at this stage of his career. He is still struggling, and needs the reassurance of a beautiful girl, while Rock is the idol of millions of girls.

The rumors are quieting down, because there is nothing to feed them. No news leaks out of Malibu. Rock continues to be noncommittal, and Cindy feels the less she says about him, the better.

Since Cindy and Don have never officially broken up, they are then still unofficially engaged. And, in addition to hot wanting to hurt the feelings of his best friend, Rock has another reason to keep quiet. His divorce from his first wife, Phyllis, is not final. Unless he resorts to a quickie Mexican divorce, he is not at liberty to make any announcement.

What’s ahead for Rock and Cindy?

Anyone who observed them together & Napa could tell how they felt about each other. Anyone who saw them would say that there’s little doubt that they are deeply in love, and that it’s only a matter of time till Cindy Robbins becomes the next Mrs. Rock Hudson.

THE END

Rock can soon be seen in THIS EARTH IS MINE for U-I.

 

It is a quote. MODERN SCREEN MAGAZINE MARCH 1959