The Company She Keeps

by Georgia Durante

  “See the one in the back? Now watch him in the next take. His lips are curled upward, but look at those eyes! Did you ever see such fright? Fast-forward to the third take, Rick. Okay, now look. The guy in the back looks more relaxed, but the guy in the front is looking out over the edge. What can we do?” Dennis asked, frustrated, like I had some magic formula.

  “Let’s show them the video,” I suggested. “If they see it for themselves they’ll be more aware.”

  After the local talent viewed the video, Dennis gave them some direction, trying to keep his composure as he spoke. Dennis was not known for his patience in dealing with incompetence. Financially, he also had a lot riding on this commercial. The commercial had to be shot and edited and ready for airing by the following week. To breach his responsibility would be disastrous for his reputation and for securing any future work from the Jeep clients.

  We returned to the vehicle, buckled ourselves in, and headed for our number-one position.

  “Listen, you guys,” I said to my passengers, “I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Did you see how visible you were on-camera?”

  “Yeah. We didn’t think they were going to see us in the car.”

  “They probably didn’t think that you’d be as recognizable as you are either, but now that you are, do you have any idea what that means to you? You’ll be upgraded to principals.”

  “We’re going to be famous!” they replied gleefully.

  “Not only that, but this will earn you about forty grand. Around here, you could probably buy a house with that kind of money.”

  They were dumbfounded.

  “Well, I’m estimating, of course, but from what I’ve heard, they’re cutting this into several spots and they plan on running the hell out of them for an extended period of time.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that every time they show this on television, you’ll get a residual check in the mail. From my experience, I’d calculate that to be around forty thousand in a year’s time.”

  The excitement on their faces was what we needed when the camera rolled.

  “But it probably won’t happen,” I added for effect.

  “Why not?” they all asked together.

  “We’re running out of time. If we don’t get this shot in the next few takes they’ll have to scratch it. We have four more setups to do before we lose the light today. It’s not in the budget to add another day onto the schedule. The only way to do it is for all of you to look happy. If any one of you looks scared, they can’t use the shot.”

  That did it. Money can buy smiles. We got the shot in the next take. We did it twice more, just for a variation to give the client a choice. Dennis was ecstatic.

  “What’d you say to them?” he quizzed.

  “Nothing,” I answered innocently. “I thought you directed them brilliantly. But I did tell them that if they didn’t get it right, I was going to show them what it felt like to land headfirst in the dirt in a brand-new Jeep!”

  Dennis chuckled. After a total of twenty-seven takes in two days, the passengers were released and we finally moved on to the next shot.

  We finished the shoot on Saturday and had the traditional wrap party that night. Sunday morning we traveled back to L.A., where my personal dilemmas waited. By Thursday, the spot was on the air. I caught it just as I was leaving for my appointment with the psychiatrist. To the viewing audience it looked so simple. The five of us driving along, laughing casually as we bounced over the letters. It took only three seconds to show that scene. A smile crossed my face. If they only knew. Running late for my appointment, I flipped off the television and hurried out the door, anxious to find out what was so important about not missing this session.

  He sat behind his desk smoking a pipe. I waited for him to speak, but he just kept staring at me. He pulled at his hairy chin with his free hand, searching his brain for the right words to begin.

  “Well?” I asked impatiently.

  After a few more moments of nerve-racking silence, he finally spoke. “I must tell you . . . I’ve been a psychiatrist for over twenty years. I have given this test to all of my patients. This is the first time I have ever gotten results back like this,” he said, still studying my face.

  “Well, what did it say?” I asked with growing frustration.

  “First, let me explain. This is an extremely accurate test that places people in categories according to the way questions are answered.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “You do not fall into any of these categories.”

  “So what you’re saying is . . . I don’t have a category? That’s it?”

  “That is correct.”

  “Well, hell, Doc, I could have told you that!”

  “The people in Minnesota are very confused by this. They would like to fly you out there, at their expense, of course, to further test you.”

  Don’t even think about it, White. That’s exactly the ammunition he’ll need to get Dustin from you. Just be glad that the test results are too inconclusive to do him any good.

  “I’m sorry if I messed up their perfect testing. I guess they have some work to do. Sounds like there’s a category they overlooked. There must be. I’d sure hate to go through life without a category.”

  “Are you saying you won’t go to Minnesota?”

  “That’s what I’m saying. I don’t have time for this. I really didn’t want to come here to begin with. I’ll let you in on a little secret, though—I know I’m a little outside the dots. It’s the people who don’t have a clue that you have to worry about. You can rest assured, Doc—I’ll let him live.”

  Back to the drawing board. There were only thirty more days before I was to be the proud owner of my very own home, but details of the divorce needed to be worked out.

  “I don’t want to go to court, Ron,” I said to my lawyer. “I just want to get on with my life.”

  “Do you realize what you’re giving up? What about child support? I can get you thousands a month. I can’t believe you’re going to settle for $250 a month per child. That’s ludicrous.”

  “It is, but going to court isn’t worth the mental toll it will take on me. Richard has agreed to split custody. If I took him to court, I wouldn’t have a chance against his millions, and I’d risk losing my son in the end.”

  “But the judge will laugh him out of court with that kind of an offer,” he persisted. “Georgia, stop and think about this for a minute. He’s adopted Toni; you’ve had a son together. The judge is going to consider the style in which you’re all accustomed to living. There is no way you’ll ever have to work again with the kind of money that will be awarded to you, especially after you tell the court about his drug habit and the hookers.”

  He just wasn’t getting it. If I didn’t accept Richard’s offer and I took him to court, I’d come out a loser. I’d seen firsthand what money could buy, and I wasn’t about to lose my son.

  “Ron, why are you arguing with me? It’s settled.”

  “I’m your lawyer, that’s why. It’s my job to do the best I can for you and make you aware of exactly what you’re entitled to.”

  “Okay, so you’ve informed me. Now draw up the papers the way I asked you to.”

  He threw his hands in the air and stood up. “Okay,” he said, “but I’m going to have to make you sign a paper for me, too.”

  “What kind of a paper?”

  “One that states that I tried to talk you out of this, so a few years down the road when you realize what a mistake you made, you can’t come back and sue me for malpractice.”

  “Sure, I’ll sign it.”

  “You’re one of a kind, Georgia. I’ve never met anyone like you before. You’re in a category all your own,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Yeah, someone told me that.”

  Dustin’s third birthday, August 12, 1983, would be my last day at the house. Joe’s brother Ronny and his wife, Ninfa, were visiting Joe in Solana Beach. I w
as a little concerned about the move going smoothly, so they came up, spent the night, and helped me move out the next day. Having my ex-husband’s brother stay overnight at my soon-to-be ex-husband’s house felt strange. But I’d been known to do stranger things.

  There wasn’t a lot to move.All I had were my clothes and the few things I’d brought into the marriage. I could have kicked myself for selling Jim Alquist back his stereo—at half the price he sold it to me. But who would have thought I’d ever need it, having married the appliance king of Los Angeles? Furnishing a new home from scratch, along with the extensive remodeling that had to be done, put a new stereo at the bottom of my priority list.

  I was taking the pictures off the wall in the long hallway when Richard came out of the bedroom.

  “I’ve decided I’m going to give you the car,” he said, as if making a big sacrifice.

  “That’s really big of you, Richard, since I’ve got ten thousand of my own money in it.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ll finish paying it off, but you better take care of it. It’ll be the last nice car you’ll own.”

  I laughed out loud. “You don’t know me very well, do you, Richard? Do you really think it’s downhill for me from here? I’ve always taken care of myself. I don’t need you. I never did. If I want a new car every year, I’ll have it. Don’t underestimate me, Richard; it’s not good for your heart.”

  “Just make sure you take all the pictures you’re in,” he said tartly as he proceeded to walk toward the breakfast room.

  He came back an hour later and saw all the pictures stacked up on the floor. Quite a sight looking down that long hallway with nails sticking out of the wall, stretching the entire length of both sides of the hall.

  “You’re taking all the pictures!” He gasped, staring at the bare walls—except for the one eight-by-ten photograph of him standing next to one of his expensive exotic cars.

  “Well, you said to take all the ones I was in. You know something, Richard? This wall sort of tells the story of your life. You have your beautiful cars, your beautiful homes, your boats, your horses, and all your other toys, but like this wall, your life is empty.”

  Those were my final words . . . and I walked out of his life.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I gained a lot from my marriage to Richard. The time I spent wasn’t completely wasted. I had been released from all the confusion and fear that had once imprisoned me. During our courtship and through the first nine months of our marriage, before everything fell apart, I gained strength in the discovery of who I really was.

  There is a lesson to be learned from every aspect of our lives. With Richard, all my attributes were acknowledged, helping me to build my previously crippled self-esteem. All of my husbands contributed to the totality of who I am. With Joe, I learned to be a survivor. With Tom? I guess I walked away knowing what I didn’t want from life. I took what I had learned from my experiences and tried to carry the knowledge forward.

  Looking ahead with excited anticipation, I began to follow the light. The tranquillity of the world had always appeared distant. Now I was touching it, embracing it, determined to defy life’s hidden hazards.

  Thank God for Darlene, my ex-sister-in-law. She moved into the house with me shortly after I bought it. Our friendship was the only thing that survived our marriage to brothers. We had bonded long ago, united by our grief. It was so good to have a friend close by who knew my history so intimately. With Darlene, I had an outlet to confide my innermost thoughts without fear of my words showing up in the gossip section of the Enquirer. I’d spent the last year in seclusion, remodeling my house. Having Dar to fill the gap, I didn’t feel so cut off from the rest of the world. Adjusting to the sudden change in lifestyle was difficult.

  Toni had an even tougher time. Her world fell apart, through no fault of her own. She blamed me silently, but her actions validated that she held me responsible. She became rebellious—not so unusual at fourteen—but our history revealed that her self-destruction had far more depth. Dustin really didn’t notice the difference; he was still a baby. Toni continued attending Beverly Hills High School. At least that part of her life wasn’t disrupted, but getting her over Coldwater Canyon in rush-hour traffic took us nearly an hour. The traffic moved faster in the covered-wagon days. We were both frustrated.

  I exhausted myself trying to provide my children with the kind of home and lifestyle to which they were accustomed. Now, more than ever, I was relentless in striving to make it on my own. The experiences with the men who occupied the pages of my life fueled my determination to rise above them. The time had come to cast my own shadow. No more illusions of a knight in shining armor. Having had a taste of life on a higher plane, I refused, for myself and for my children, to live any other way. Only I could make it happen.

  Where there’s a will . . .

  The Tippler bar was crowded by four o’clock in the afternoon. Most of the skiers were already down the mountain, checking out what dinner dates or parties were in store for the evening. Aspen was becoming an annual trip for me at Christmastime. I had spent my first Christmas here the year before, in celebration of my divorce from Richard. But now, almost a year and a half later, I was finally beginning to emerge from the unhappy places where I had spent most of my life.

  Five girls crammed into a one-bedroom condo. The skiing was great, but the party was the attraction. The winter of 1984 was the year they had to truck ice cubes in from Denver. The party was nonstop.

  The millionaires and the movie stars vied for the title of “best party of the year.” Who could have the best band, food, and beautiful people? Who had the most outrageously beautiful home with the best view? They constantly tried to outdo one another. The parties were the most lavish in the world.

  I slid through those open doors as if I’d been there all my life—except that life had changed in the years I had spent in the dark. Drugs now ran rampant, as well as the decline in sexual morals. Shielded by my marriages, I now had a new set of dilemmas to encounter. I wasn’t totally naive about what was going on, but didn’t have to deal with it personally.

  The single life was not compatible with my personal values. My biggest challenge was making a dinner date and figuring out how not to be dessert. I was extremely friendly, but aloof. I kept my personal life private—something I had learned to do when I was married to Joe. It just came naturally now.

  I was not conscious of all that I was at that time, partly because my protective walls were so impenetrable. Anyone inching close to me had to deal with Georgia Black first. No one was allowed to cross the threshold of my heart. She left nothing to chance. But I was slowly regaining the spirit misplaced so long ago. Life was again becoming an adventure.

  After spotting Darlene and my girlfriends at the bar, laughing with some rather good-looking men, I left my window table to join them. Pushing my way through the crowded lounge, I heard my name being called. Searching over the sea of heads, I spotted a tall, slim woman waving a gloved hand in the air. As I got closer, I recognized her: Darrien Earle.

  “Hi, Darrien,” I said, joining her table. “How’ve you been?”

  “Great. This year’s skiing couldn’t be better, or maybe it just seems better when you’re in love,” she said, looking admiringly over at her male companion. “Honey, this is Georgia Durante, and this is Dennis Krieger.”

  “Nice to meet you, Dennis,” I said, extending my hand. I was not as impressed as Darrien seemed to be. “Do you have a daughter named Jennifer who goes to Beverly Hills High?” I asked.

  “I do,” he answered with a warm smile.

  “I thought the name Krieger sounded familiar. Our daughters are classmates.”

  “Are you the same Georgia who’s a friend of Ann Feldner?” Dennis asked, trying to connect where he’d heard my name before.

  “That’s me. How do you know Ann?”

  “I met her at the Bistro Garden in Beverly Hills about a month ago,” he explained. “She told me about your ad
ventures in New York City. I can see how you two would be trouble out on the loose.”

  I smiled. Darrien didn’t.

  “We’re skiing Snowmass tomorrow. I reserved a table at Krabloonik’s at one o’clock. Why don’t you join us?” Dennis offered.

  Sensing his interest, I refrained from intruding on my friend’s interlude. “No, thanks. I know how that is. I want to ski, and I don’t think I’ll make it back on the slopes once I settle in there with a few bottles of wine. But I’ll try catching up with you guys before the week is over.”

  The week flew by. It had been another memorable ski trip, but the time had come to leave and to face the realities of life once more. I was home about a week when my phone rang.

  “Hi, Georgia, it’s Ann.”

  “Ann Feldner, what have you been up to, girlfriend?”

  “Just checking out the L.A. scene.”

  “I’ll say you have. New York has taught you well. I ran into an acquaintance of yours in Aspen. You don’t waste any time, do you?”

  “That’s why I’m calling you. Dennis called me after he got back. He wants to know if he can have your number.”

  “Absolutely not. What is it with these guys? He’s dating a friend of mine.”

  “Well, it looks like that relationship is winding down. He thought you were something else. He’s called three times already to ask if I’ve talked to you yet.”

  “Ann, if they’re truly breaking up, tell him to do it before he goes out with other women. I hate that.”

  “So, can I give him your number?”

  “No!”

  Three weeks passed before I heard from Ann again.

  “Hi, Georgia, how was your trip?”

  “Which one?”

  “To Detroit. Didn’t you say you were going back there on your annual PR trip with the advertising agencies?”

  “Oh, it worked out fine. I managed to be in the right place at the right time and landed a job for Jeep. I just got back from a five-day shoot in Lake Tahoe.”

  “Great, that should help recoup your expenses from the Aspen trip.”