The Hollywood Scoop
By Laura Schaefer
Copyright 2011
Chapter 1
“Bless me Father, for I have sinned, this is my first confession since yesterday.”
“Yesterday, child? You know, a girl of your years really needn’t come in every day.” My priest, Father Andrew, chuckled as I narrowed my eyes behind the intricate screen between us.
“Tell that to my mother. She caught me trying to sneak out last night, so here I am.”
“My word. Twelve Hail Mary’s.” I knew Father Andrew liked me, even though I had to be the worst sinner in our parish, easy. Well, top five.
“Um, I’m not done.” I pressed my face closer to the little screen and heard Father Andrew get more comfortable. Father Andrew always took the time to get comfortable when he heard the sound of my voice. I’m not gonna lie, it’s kind of a point of personal pride for me.
“Go on, child.”
“Let’s see. Well, since yesterday I’ve cursed six times. Of course, one of them was completely understandable. I would argue necessary.”
“Taking the Lord’s name in vain is never understandable.” Father Andrew was having a hard time sounding appropriately stern, but I could tell he was really trying.
“Even when you’re cursing the sailor who won’t give you a straight answer about where his ship’s been? Come on, Father, you can give me that one, can’t you?”
“I’m afraid not, Josephine. Ten more Hail Mary’s.”
“All right, all right. I’m still not done.” I figured if I was going to be forced to march myself to church every day, I might as well get my money’s worth. “Father, why can’t we just talk face to face, like friends?”
“I’m not in the habit of having a coffee klatch with adolescent ladies, child. Is there anything else?”
“’Fraid so.” I paused to gather my thoughts. “I’m still bribing sources for information about various scoops. But I’m not sure that’s even really a sin, even if my mother would have an aneurism if she knew about it…she has this vein in her forehead that kind of pops every time I so much as stick a pencil behind my ear.” I bit my lip. You know that feeling you get when you know you’re doing something wrong, but it’s because you have to, in order to do something right? That’s a feeling I have all the time.
“I cannot absolve you of a sin you plan to keep on committing.”
“Hmm. Okay, I guess I’m done then.” I bit my lip a second time, certain I was going to get nailed with about forty rosaries. This absolution business was really going to eat up my afternoon.
“Josephine, please just…try. I absolve you of your sins in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”
“Amen. See you around, Father.” I celebrated as silently as possible behind the screen, not wanting the priest to think twice about going so easy on me.
I did all of my Hail Mary’s in the front pew, then finished with a long, sincere prayer for my brother, who had enlisted ahead of the draft and was Over There.
I hopped up off my kneeler and got the heck out of there. Church can be so dreary.
If my mother knew how I spent half my time knocking around town and writing about wise guys and drunks and potential German spies and cigarette girls and whatever else I might see during a typical day, I’d be locked in the tiniest room in our house and the key would stay nestled in her girdle until kingdom come.
But she doesn’t.
So I won’t.
Joey Delgado is my name. You won’t forget it, either, because I’m the gal who’ll give you the who, the what, the where, and the when. For the why, you’ll probably have to find your own Father Andrew, but I’ll do my best. I’m not afraid to ask questions, and I’m not afraid to hitchhike and sneak around and generally make a pain of myself. I’m little and I’m a girl, which means no one pays attention to what I do. Chumps.
America declared war six months ago, and everything went topsy-turvy…and not entirely in a bad way if you ask me, and I know you will. Up and down the California coast people are convinced we’ll be invaded any second. We had air raid drills at school all spring and people started driving their cars with only the running lights on—on account of the constant blackouts. Some ladies, the smart ones, got themselves a pair of trousers and a job. Like I say, topsy-turvy.
Boys flooded into Los Angeles from all over the country, ready to ship out at a moment’s notice. Everywhere I looked, there were stories that begged to be told and scoops waiting to be cracked wide open, like coconuts on a sharp rock.
It was, no question about it whatsoever, the most exciting summer of my entire life.
To be continued...
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