Kirk felt a damp film of perspiration bead his forehead. He paused to take a drink from his glass.
“Small wonder the critics liked The Two of Us,” Marsha murmured. “You wrenched it right out of your soul.”
“The Europeans saw what I was doing. It was the biggest thing at the film festival in Cannes that year,” Kirk agreed. “But the box office appeal was zilch. In the eyes of the industry I was a failure. That was why I had to get out of Natalie’s life. In my own eyes I was a failure. And her career was taking off like a skyrocket. I was hanging around the house, living off her income.” He shook his head. “The situation was impossible. But when I was in Europe, I got some self-respect back. I got a clear vision of my own feelings. I realized Natalie had been right. The memory of Jacqueline was haunting me so it kept coming between us. Now I’d cleared that up. And then I started getting the idea for The Last Encounter. Just like I’d done The Two of Us for Jacqueline’s memory, I knew The Last Encounter was going to be Natalie’s film.”
Marsha blinked back tears. “So what’s the big problem between the two of you, now?” she asked bitterly. “Sounds like all your problems have been cleared up. Why don’t you fight the divorce? Grab her up in your arms, tell her what you’ve just told me. If she cares anything about you, she’ll cancel the stupid divorce.”
“It isn’t that simple,” Kirk muttered.
He lapsed into moody silence, wrestling with his own thoughts. The basic situation hadn’t changed. Natalie was even a bigger star now than when he left for Europe. Her career was a huge success. He was still a failure, trying to make a comeback. Natalie thought he was using her to get to do this film. In a crazy, ironic way, she was partly right. Kirk thought, almost desperately, that he had to do this film if he was going to save himself and, in the process, save their marriage. The only way he was able to get the studio backing was if Natalie agreed to play the lead role, so he’d made that compromise, hoping the end would justify the means. Had he done the right thing? If he could get the film completed there was no question in his mind that it was going to be a box office smash hit, one of the biggest money-makers of the season. Then he could hold his head high again.
The last thing he wanted from Natalie was pity. That night in Malibu when they had made love after the two years’ absence, he now realized she’d given in out of pity. She’d brought the news of the studio turndown of his production. He’d been crushed. That had set the stage for what happened that night. Natalie was compassionate, bighearted, an easy touch. She had wanted to comfort him in the best way a woman could comfort a man, with her warmth and giving of herself. He’d been too desperately hungry for her to analyze her motives that night. But when he found out she’d filed for divorce the next day, he realized the truth about that night. At first he had reacted with anger. But now he was facing reality. It was not easy to keep his hands off Natalie. He longed for her with every fiber of his being. But he had no right to her until he could resolve his own failure.
There would be no problem if they completed the production. He was as certain of its success as he was of tomorrow’s sunrise. The hitch lay in whether or not they could complete it. He had to face the fact that if he was going to turn out the motion picture he visualized it was going to take more time and money than the original budget—a lot more time and a lot more money.
He was drawn out of his reverie by Marsha’s voice. “I can see why you love her so,” Marsha said wistfully. “Natalie is as cool and exquisite as a very expensive, frosty bottle of champagne. She has so much poise, such class. So much beauty. And yet, in spite of all the money in her family and her own success, she’s not the slightest bit stuck-up. She treats the lowest grip on the set with consideration, just like her own equal.”
Kirk nodded, again sinking into his own thoughts. He thought of the difference in their backgrounds. Natalie’s wealthy family setting, Swiss finishing school, and his own middle-class family where keeping up the house rent and the payments on a secondhand car was the big deal. They came from different worlds. Only if he achieved his goals would he have lifted himself by his bootstraps to her level.
Aloud, he said, “I’ve got to pull off this film and get back on my feet before I have a right to be Natalie’s husband. I have to show her that I wasn’t just using her to get the studio to back the film....”
“And what if it fails?”
“Then, I guess it’s back to Europe and obscurity for me. This time for keeps.”
Marsha shook her head slowly. “Male ego! If Natalie really loves you and if she’s worth anything at all, she wouldn’t care if you’re a big success or not.”
“Yeah, but I’d care. It would eat at me and destroy everything between us. I’d be living off her income, a kept man. I’d hate her and we’d wind up hating each other.”
She reached for his hand, her huge, dark eyes gazing directly into his. In a husky voice she said, “Kirk, it wouldn’t make any difference to me if you never made another motion picture. I’d take you on any terms. And you can have me on any terms.” Color rose to her cheeks as she said in a low voice, “In fact, you can have me tonight, if you want—no strings, no demands....”
Kirk felt the warmth of her hand. He squeezed his fingers. “That’s very tempting, Marsha. You’re a beautiful woman and I value you highly as a friend. But right now—”
She sighed, withdrawing her hand. “I know. You’re too hung up on Natalie to get involved with another woman, especially with Natalie in the same hotel. I can understand that. Just remember, honey, I’m not one to give up easily. I’m going to keep right on trying, every chance I get, so Natalie had better watch out.”
He smiled. “Is that a threat?”
She shrugged. “All’s fair....”
Kirk saw Marsha back to the hotel and then he walked along the beach for a while, thinking about his personal and professional problems. He wondered what life’s ironies and contradictions had in store for him. Would the studio give him the necessary financial support to complete this film? Would he prove himself and win Natalie back? Or would the production end in disaster, leaving his life in shambles?
Would Natalie go through with the divorce or would she change her mind? Would this film make his reputation as the most brilliant, promising young director in Hollywood, or would he go down in defeat? Would he end up back in Europe, perhaps with Marsha Sanders at his side as Natalie faded into a memory along with his film-making dreams?
He felt a chill as he plodded along the beach. His future was one big, ominous question mark.
CHAPTER NINE
The next morning, Natalie had breakfast at a table that gave her a firsthand view of Copacabana Beach.
The hotel where she and most of the cast were staying was located on the wide seafront thoroughfare, the Avenida Atlantica. It was an area of waterfront bars bright with neon signs, pavement mosaics and terraced restaurants. Stretched before them, glistening white, was Copacabana Beach. To the west, the Avenida Atlantica curved into the Avenida Vieira Souto and Avenida Delfím Moreira and the beach became Ipanema.
She ate slowly, savoring the sweet, succulent taste of Brazilian fruits, guava, fruta-de-conde and pawpaw and the juice of the maracuja. As she sipped a cup of strong, black Brazilian coffee, she gazed out at the scene on the beach which was already becoming crowded with sun-worshipers.
“Hi, you’re up early.”
The masculine voice interrupting her thoughts startled her. She swung around to look into the eyes of Tom Sacks. The leading man was as macho handsome as usual. He was dressed for the beach, wearing trunks and a beach robe. “Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all,” Natalie said, nodding to the chair across from her.
Sacks slid into the chair. He nodded at Natalie’s attire, which also consisted of a swimsuit and robe. “Guess we’re planning the same kind of morning.”
“Yes, I’ve been dying to get to the beach.”
“Yeah, we might as well relax while we can
,” Sacks said. “Once we start shooting those Carnival scenes, Kirk is going to run us all ragged.”
Natalie gave him a questioning glance. She wondered how far they were going to get into the movie before Kirk and Tom came to blows.
“You don’t like him much, do you?”
Sacks shrugged. “I think the feeling is mutual. I know he wanted somebody else for my part. He doesn’t think I can act.”
Natalie shrugged. “I think you’re doing a fine job so far.”
Sacks gave a short, angry laugh. “I doubt if Kirk shares that opinion.” Then he said to the waitress who appeared at the table, “Just a cup of coffee, please.” Addressing Natalie again, he said, “I notice he isn’t sparing your feelings, either.”
Natalie thought about the humiliating episode on the set when Kirk said her interpretation of Rebecca Abrahms was all wrong. She flushed, feeling a fresh wave of anger.
There was a moment of silence as Sacks stared moodily out at the beach. Suddenly he caught Natalie completely by surprise by saying, “In spite of all that, as much as it galls me, I have to admit he’s a helluva good director. There are times when I hate his guts. I want to swing a punch at him. But at the same time, I have to admire his ability. He knows exactly what he wants and, as mad as it makes me, I have to admit he’s right. I have been getting by on personality and looks in most of the things I’ve done lately. The part in this film calls for a lot more. Before it’s over, I’m going to find out if I actually can act.” Then Sacks grinned. “Did he really throw Sam Kasserman off the barge in the Hudson River that time?”
Natalie shrugged. “He’s never talked to me about it, but knowing Kirk, the story is probably true.”
“From what I’ve seen of Kirk Trammer, it’s true all right,” Sacks continued, nodding. “When he starts a project, it’s his production and too bad for anyone who tries to interfere. It’s going to get him in trouble this time, though,” Sacks muttered.
Natalie raised an eyebrow. “Is that a threat?”
“Just an observation. I’m thinking about the home office. D’you know we’ve hardly gotten started and already he’s behind shooting schedule and over budget?”
“Yes,” Natalie said uncomfortably.
“Wait until this thing really starts rolling, all that outer space special effects stuff, the scenes he’s planning to shoot in the desert in Tunisia. Natalie, the cost is going to go through the roof. I can see disaster looming. I can hear the studio howling already.”
Sacks finished his coffee. “Well, that’s his problem, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Natalie replied absently. To herself, she thought that wasn’t exactly true. It wasn’t only Kirk’s problem. She was still too angry thinking about Kirk and Marsha together last night to give a hang what became of him. But she was concerned for the sake of the movie and her friends who were involved, to say nothing of her own career.
“Well,” Tom Sacks said, unwinding his large frame from the chair, “the beach beckons. Shall we go soak up some of this fine Brazilian sunshine?”
“All right.”
On the beach, they set up a miniature encampment consisting of umbrellas, beach mats and portable radios.
The brilliant February midsummer sun was blinding on the white sand, making sunglasses mandatory. From the tropical jungles in the mountains overlooking the city came butterflies in bright rainbow colors, fluttering down over the beach and surf.
By now the beach was teeming with life, crowded with sun-bronzed bodies. There were joggers thudding by in strides that kicked up little spurts of sand, groups of young people playing football, and others working out on a gymnastic apparatus. There was a constant parade of young women like healthy amazons, their perfectly sculpted bodies scantily clad in string bikinis, strolling past older citizens who sat patiently absorbing the ultraviolet rays.
Threading their way in the crowd in dogged, perpetual motion, were the beach vendors laden with stacks of bright red, yellow, green and blue hats; balancing baskets of pineapples on their heads; staggering along with heavy containers of cold lemonade, soft drinks or beer, all crying out their sales pitch above the sound of the surf and the portable radios.
Natalie sensed an undercurrent of tension, a kind of expectant excitement in the air. She had felt it everywhere she went in the city. It was anticipation of the Carnival soon to begin. There was a feeling that the whole city was holding its breath, counting off the minutes until it would explode in a shattering frenzy of revelry.
“Have you ever been here at Carnival time?” Natalie asked.
Tom nodded. “A couple of years ago. It’s mass hysteria from Sunday through Tuesday night, right up to Ash Wednesday. The entire city goes mad. Everyone sheds conventional restraints in one big continuous party.” He chuckled. “On Ash Wednesday morning, the entire city wakes up with a colossal hangover.”
Natalie smiled. “Sounds like fun.”
“Oh, it is. Especially if you’re with the right person.” He gave her a long, thoughtful look as he said the words.
Natalie suddenly felt a wave of self-consciousness. Tom’s gaze trailed over her curves generously revealed by the skimpy bikini. She was acutely conscious of the male approval and interest in what he saw.
Her cheeks flushing, she stammered, “I doubt if anyone in the cast is going to have much time for partying. Kirk has a heavy shooting schedule planned. He wants to use the Carnival activity in several scenes.”
“Yeah, I know,” Tom muttered. “Still, we might be able to sneak off for a little Carnival fun. How about it, Natalie?”
“I’m not promising anything,” she parried.
A smile touched a corner of his lips as he continued to study her in a contemplative manner. “How are things with you and Kirk?”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean on a personal level.”
“Then that’s personal, isn’t it?”
He shrugged. “Stars don’t have much privacy, as you know. It’s common knowledge that you’ve filed for divorce.”
The conversation was taking a direction that made her uncomfortable. Impulsively, she jumped up, dusting grains of sand from her hips. “Come on, we’re wasting that beautiful water. Last one in is a monkey’s uncle!”
Tom laughed, uncoiling his six-foot frame and rising to his feet. They raced to the water’s edge and plunged into the foaming surf. At first the breakers knocked Natalie off balance, sending her sprawling on the sandy bottom, from which she came up spluttering salt water. But then she battled her way past the crashing breakers to the gentle swells where she swam easily and floated for a while, rocked in rhythmic, soothing motion by the sea. Out here it was warm and peaceful after the noise and confusion of the beach.
As she looked back at the city she had the sensation of the buildings and skyscrapers swaying back and forth before her eyes. She thought it was a city forever trapped between the sea in front of it and the jungle-covered mountains behind it. Above it all, the huge statue of Christ gazed solemnly down from the mountain top, arms outstretched in permanent benediction.
The great distance of the ocean horizon on the one side and the mountains dissolving in clouds and mists on the other gave it all the illusion of a dream city floating in space.
Tom challenged her to a race. He was a powerful swimmer. The corded muscles of his shoulders and arms swelled and rippled as he plowed through the water.
Natalie, a good swimmer herself, managed to keep up with him for a while, but then surrendered and came to a breathless stop, glad to find the sandy bottom under her feet.
Tom turned to join her, breathing hard, too.
For a few moments they were too busy catching their breath to speak. Then they both burst out laughing. Natalie felt carefree and gay in the sparkling water, enjoying one of those fleeting moments when time evaporated and she was a child again.
Suddenly, Tom bent forward and his lips brushed hers. She was startled, frozen by shock. Ever since he�
��d joined her for breakfast, Natalie had been aware of his interest in her. She had been struggling with this development, not sure how to deal with it. Kirk had been the only man in her life. Even during their estrangement, when he was in Europe, she had avoided entanglements, becoming something of a recluse except for her closest friends. But now, making this movie, she was thrown together with one of the world’s most eligible and attractive male stars. Women would cut their wrists for a chance to be with Tom Sacks.
“How about us, Natalie?” Tom asked, gazing directly into her eyes. His arms were around her lightly as the motion of the waves swayed their bodies, making them touch. “You’re a gorgeous woman. I’m between wives. You’re divorcing Kirk. Fate has thrown us together. Don’t you think we should do something about it?”
It was a challenge that gave her a strange feeling. How did she feel about Tom Sacks—or any other man for that matter? She couldn’t answer that question. Until now, her life and emotions had been too entangled with Kirk. This situation made her understand clearly why she had to divorce Kirk; it was the only way she could get on with her own life.
“Tom...give me a little time, okay?”
He shrugged. “We’d be a great pair, Natalie. Think about it.”
Then he turned and swam back to the beach.
Natalie followed at a slower pace, her thoughts chaotic. Under their umbrella they sipped cooling drinks Tom bought from a beach vendor, and made small talk. After a while, made drowsy by the swim and warm sunlight, Natalie rolled over on her stomach, resting her cheek on the back of one hand. Vaguely, she heard Tom say something about going back to the hotel for a while.
The Movie Page 12
