Turn for Home

by Lara Zielinsky

  Brenna nodded. It all made sense. Ribs took so long to heal. Cassidy never moved much in those early months because she was hampered by the brace. What Brenna had thought a corset had instead been a rigid medical aid.

  Cameron was not finished with his rant. "And you! You of all people. You froze her out! Now this — you and her? How does that work?"

  Ashamed, Brenna's gaze slid away from his. Cassidy had never mentioned the early days or demanded an apology for Brenna's cold shoulder treatment. She was content to take their relationship forward, leaving the past behind. That seemed to be the way Cassidy lived her life — always in the moment and focused on one thing at a time. Completely. She could be on a set totally in character, to the point that there had been a guest actor who thought Cassidy was a cold fish when she was in "Hanssen mode".

  Or she could be totally into you. Brenna recalled being captured by swirling pools of blue eyes on a moonlit mountain night. She inhaled sharply, recalling the last time she and Cassidy had made love. Was it only two days ago? It feels more like a lifetime. Her arms suddenly ached with the desire to hold Cassidy again as she cried out in pleasure, the sound making Brenna feel like the queen of the universe.

  Hearing Cameron shuffle impatiently beside her, Brenna returned her attention to his question. "You're right. I don't deserve that she should love me, but she does."

  "Do you think I could visit her?" Cameron asked. "I know what you said in the office, but..."

  "Cameron, I don't know that I would if I were you. She's weak, tired. If she's still upset at you, it might not be the best thing for her to see you." She offered an olive branch. "I can ask her, though."

  "She amazed me, taking up with you," he said reflectively, apparently taking her offer to heart. "I thought we were pretty compatible."

  "When you treated her like a trophy instead of a person, Cameron, it was over." The look of bewilderment on his face told Brenna that he had no idea what she was talking about. "I don't expect you to understand; you've gotten too used to controlling things. Cassidy has an infectious sense of wonder, and despite her rapid rise in this business, she's not cynical. She's intelligent and insightful. She makes me feel this is all still worth it, that honest love still exists. I'd forgotten."

  "Sounds like you had a midlife crisis," he snorted.

  "Maybe I did. But she's worth a crisis."

  He still looked completely baffled. They reached the stage door, and Cameron pulled open the door to the soundstage. "We'd better make this quick."

  With a sigh, Brenna entered ahead of him, then hung back until she heard the director call, "Cut!"

  Rachelle stumbled toward her chair. Right behind her, Brady bounced a little and smiled as he looked up. "Hey, Aunt Brenna!"

  She held the two chairs as the actors flopped into them. "Hi Brady."

  Rachelle looked up. "Bren!" She glanced beyond Brenna to see Cameron lingering beside a camera. "Cameron?"

  "Hi." Brenna smiled and grasped the hands that reached toward her. "Working hard?"

  "They rearranged some scenes to free up you and Cassidy, so, here we are," Rachelle explained. "We got our calls at five a.m. I'd barely put my head on my pillow. Will's tickled, though. He got some of your scenes with Brady."

  "I heard," she said. "I'll be in on Saturday to finish up my part." She glanced up at Brady. "Are you all right with that?"

  "Sure," the young man answered readily.

  "Is your dad around?" Brenna asked, thinking about how abruptly Max had left the hospital.

  "Came through a little while ago, but haven't seen him since."

  "Okay. I'll call him later." Brenna patted Rachelle's shoulders. "I have to run."

  "Tell Cassidy we're pulling for her."

  "I will. She woke up about four-thirty, actually."

  "That's good news. How did the morning go with her parents?"

  Brenna frowned. "Her father thinks she deserved it," she revealed quietly.

  "Son of a bitch," Rachelle exclaimed with heartfelt emotion.

  "They almost got the doctor to agree to move her to Missouri. While Cass was unconscious, they had the medical control. I argued long enough for Cassidy to wake up and take control of things herself."

  "What did she do?"

  "She named me her health proxy." Brenna caught Rachelle's raised eyebrow. "She'd had another heart attack. I couldn't let her parents do something she clearly didn't want. It's kind of made things more...permanent between us."

  "Sounds like it. What did her parents do?"

  "Gerry Hockman fumed, threatened to sue, and then stalked out of the hospital. I have no idea where they are now."

  "Where's Ryan?"

  "Ryan needed to run off a little steam. It got pretty stormy at the hospital. I think he's nervous and upset, but being around my sons seems to make him feel secure. All three boys are with Mrs. Grinaldi right now."

  "So the home front is weathering the press storm?"

  "James says there're crowds around our house, which is why they came to the hospital — to get away for a while."

  "Shall I tell you what we've been doing to help?"

  "Don't tell me that I've been painted as the matriarch of the troupe. My concern over Cassidy is no more or less than what I showed to you, or Rich, or anyone else, when you all had troubles of your own."

  Rachelle chuckled. "Nobody's buying that."

  "I know. Branch has ordered me to do a press conference. Within the next hour."

  Rachelle stood up quickly. "I'll ask for a break. We'll be there to support you."

  Brenna sighed. "Thank you." She looked at Brady. "If you see your dad..."

  "I'll have someone find him. We'll be there, too."

  "Thank you." Brenna reached out to give Rachelle a hug, but Rachelle grabbed her and kissed her cheek firmly, startling her.

  "Keep your chin up. I'll have as many of us there as I can manage."

  "I...thank you, Chelle."

  "See you in an hour."

  Brenna walked out of the soundstage area, followed by Cameron. "How much of that stuff about her parents are you telling the press?" he asked.

  "As little as possible. Her parents don't deserve the fifteen minutes of fame, and I won't do anything to help Mitch's case by airing it in the press. I want us left alone."

  Cameron didn't respond. Brenna inhaled the crisp January air and slipped Cassidy's trailer key out of her purse. She mounted the steps quickly, but the key did not easily fit. Bending down, she examined the lock and noticed scoring around the cylinder. A chill skittered down her spine, and she took a step back.

  The noise of a golf cart approaching startled her. Turning, she saw a young man in bright blue shorts and a white crew shirt — a Pinnacle runner — driving up to the trailer.

  "Hey, Ms. Lanigan."

  "Hi. What's up?"

  "Mr. Branch sent me to get some of the flowers and stuff from Ms. Hyland's trailer to send over to the hospital."

  "I'm here to collect some things she might like myself."

  "Give me a hand then?" he asked.

  Brenna nodded and stepped back as he moved up the steps. He had the same trouble with his key. The rasp of it in the lock, not settling the tumblers, made her nervous. "Maybe you ought not to..."

  He bent away from her outstretched hand and peered into the keyhole. "Looks like something's been jammed in there." He tried the knob. "Dang, it's already unlocked." He pulled the door wide. The knob clicked suddenly in his hand, and Brenna grabbed his shoulder, yanking him backward. "Hey!"

  Brenna peered around the edge of the open doorway. When nothing jumped at her from the dark interior, she shrugged sheepishly. "Sorry. Guess I'm a little jumpy."

  "Yeah, guess so." The runner stood, brushed himself off and reached inside for the switch, flooding the interior with light. "Just flowers and cards everywhere."

  Everywhere was right. Several arrangements had been knocked to the floor. The pots lay cracked and flower petals were strewn around.
"Well, I'll take these," she said, scooping up a stack of postcards and telegrams and dropping them in her purse. "You get the flowers that are still in decent shape; I'm going to grab her appointment book."

  "That was one of the things I was told to find. I was delayed getting out here — couldn't find a cart. All the security folks seem to have 'em." The runner was already hefting several arrangements.

  Brenna searched Cassidy's desk and found a combination appointment/address book. "I'll be right back." Stepping out into the sunshine again, she spotted someone else coming up the walkway. "Can I help you?"

  He held out an electronic signature pad. "Making a delivery to Cassidy Hyland." he explained. "I was told her trailer was unlocked and just to put it somewhere there's space. Apparently there've been a lot of deliveries?"

  "Yeah."

  She read the company name, Flowers Unlimited, and his name, Jim, on his lapel.

  "I better get the delivery inside." He started to turn away.

  "Wait. I'm a friend of Ms. Hyland's. I'm going to take some of the flowers and cards and things to her. Why don't you leave it with me?" As an afterthought, she asked, "Who is it from?"

  "Well, Ms. Hyland's supposed to..."

  "She's in the hospital. Who is it from?"

  He read the delivery information. "Mrs. Gwen Talbot, 1402 Sycamore."

  Brenna nodded, familiar with Cassidy's neighbor. "I'll take the flowers directly to Cassidy. She'll enjoy them."

  "But the delivery..."

  "You've made it." She grasped the electronic pad and signed her name. "Thanks, Jim." She nudged him back around the end of the trailer where he had set down his package.

  There were flowers...but Brenna laughed as she identified the logo on the side of the two-foot tall bucket. "God, that'll send her into catatonia!"

  "It's our Chocolate Lover's Bouquet." She hefted the arrangement and sniffed the flowers, distinctly overlaid with the blessed scent of rich chocolate. "It's supposed to be for the recipient," he added with a grin.

  "Of course." Brenna dropped her chin and shifted the "bouquet" onto one hip, holding out her freed hand to shake his. "Thanks."

  As she headed again for the trailer steps carrying the bouquet, Cameron shook his head. "What the hell?"

  "Flower delivery." She nodded toward the delivery man who had started back toward the main buildings. She eased a small wrapped piece of chocolate from the side. "Fortification before I face the press." Surprisingly, Cameron laughed.

  Chapter 18

  Brenna entered Victor Branch's office and saw Ray Aruth sitting primly, his briefcase open on his lap. Next to him sat a woman Brenna didn't recognize. "Hi, Ray." She turned to the woman and held out her hand. "You must be Cassidy's agent. I'm Brenna Lanigan."

  The woman shook her hand. "How is Cassidy?"

  "Recovering slowly. It'll be several days yet."

  Her own agent still hadn't spoken. "Ray?"

  "I'm just here to deliver this," he said, tossing a packet of papers toward her.

  She caught it with consternation.

  "What's this?" She flipped the first page over and was surprised to see the contract for the English project Celtic Queen staring up at her. "Voided?" She studied the language appended by the production team's legal representative. "But why?" She looked to Ray for an explanation.

  "They want a particular type. You are no longer it," he stated bluntly. "I spent the holidays convincing them to wait for you, saying you were going to be perfect for the role. That you were not pigeon-holed in sci-fi, that you were going to give the project the maturity to bring it spectacular reviews." Ray was tense and aggravated, and didn't care if it showed.

  "But I am all those things. I'd have given my complete attention to every tiny detail. Cass and I—"

  "Cass and you are the problem," he snapped. "When they decided on you for this film, you were a mature married woman with two kids, the epitome of respectability." He snatched the contract, and it crumpled in his tight grip. "Now you are a philandering woman with a lesbian following. That is not what this project wanted from you! Your divorce isn't even final and she's living with you!"

  "Actually she's still in the hospital," Brenna said slowly. She swallowed her surprise and hurt at Ray's bluntness. "Thanks for asking."

  "The agency doesn't care. You threw away a golden opportunity, for what? For sex? People sleep their way into roles, not out of them."

  "This is ludicrous. I'm still the same actor," she chafed. Would people now expect her to only play a gay woman, or that she would only draw gay people to her projects? "Who I love doesn't affect what I can do," she said with asperity.

  When she looked at Ray, she found not the ally who had helped her continue to find roles when she had hit the "deadly 4-0", but a man who was just as disappointed in her as the industry now appeared to be.

  "There has to be some other reason," she insisted. "Did they find they preferred Sarandon or something?"

  "No, they have decided to go with an unknown Scottish-born actress who has been circulating in their Royal Shakespeare Company for twenty years."

  The information left her nothing with which to salve the wound. The producers really had decided against her, plain and simple. She clasped her hands around her knee to still their shaking. "What did you do to try to change their minds?"

  "Nothing."

  "I see." She stood, turned away from him, exhaled and brushed her fingers through her hair. There was really very little to say. Not looking at him, she asked as plainly as he had spoken to her, "Do you wish to terminate our contract, as well?"

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ray pull out another document and her heart sank.

  "We foresee that any prospects you might have had will now dry up," he said. "The agency has decided to drop its representation of you."

  Roll with it, she counseled herself. You've been in more difficult situations in your career. On the heels of that was the abysmal thought that maybe this actually was the worst. She looked at him, but he was looking at the paper he held out rather than at her. "Do you agree with them?" she asked, accepting the paper.

  "I thought you were a good investment when we first acquired you," Ray said neutrally.

  "Now you don't think so."

  "Why didn't you come to us to handle the publicity on this?"

  "This what? My personal relationships were changing; it had nothing to do with my career."

  Ray was incredulous. "In six months you went from being married to having an affair with a costar — a woman! — and you didn't think you'd need publicity management?"

  Looking at her situation from the outside for a moment, Brenna realized she might feel the same as the agency did. However, she wasn't outside of it. She was inside and she was happy. But it was true that her divorce was not finalized. Defensive, Brenna said, "It wasn't my intention to have my relationship on the front page of every newspaper in the country."

  Ray shook his head. "I thought you were more savvy than that." His words were a final indictment.

  "Will the agency be...making a public statement?" she asked. How much more could she take?

  Ray shook his head. "Embarrassment is not something we desire, either. Our other clients might get antsy."

  "Do you represent any...gay clients?" she asked.

  Again shaking his head, Ray said, "If we are, none are out, but the Bormanis Agency prefers a stable of mature clientele in any case."

  A label for which she apparently no longer qualified. Brenna exhaled. "Right." At least she could be mature about watching her career self-destruct. "My portfolio?" she inquired, as she snatched up a pen from Victor's desk and signed her name to the agency's dismissal papers.

  "I will have a courier deliver all your properties to your home address."

  He wasn't even going to bring it himself. Ray was washing his hands of her quickly, cleanly, and quietly. Brenna kept her gaze down so he would not see her eyes shining with unshed tears. She pushed the paper ba
ck to him, holding out the pen. Taking it, he signed his name below hers.

  "Thank you for the time you spent on my behalf."

  "You're welcome," Ray said. He would not meet her eyes.

  There was a long silence between them. Finally Ray turned, collected up the signed documents and his briefcase, and hurried through the door.

  "Ms. Lanigan?"

  Brenna turned with a start. She had forgotten the presence of Cassidy's agent. "I'm sorry for that, Ms...."

  The agent stood and held out her hand. "Natalia Gardner. My friends call me Talia." Brenna took the hand in surprise. "Looks like you need my help."

  "I am going to give a press conference in about half an hour. You were here to help with Cass' side of things."

  "I think I can help both of you." Talia nudged Brenna into the chair vacated by Ray. "We can manage this exactly the way you and Cass want."

  "What does the studio want me to do?"

  "The studio told us..." Talia's gesture included the absent Ray. "Well, I'll finish what I was asked to do," she said, resting her hand on Brenna's knee. "To say whatever it is two formerly straight actresses can say to quiet the damn reporters so they'll leave the set alone except on media day."

  As anxious as Brenna was, the statement sounded exactly like Victor Branch. Delivered by this woman, it made her laugh. "That sounds exactly like Victor. All right." She sobered. "Trouble is, Cass isn't out of the woods yet, and I'm pretty frayed around the edges. I am quickly realizing that I had never considered what it means to be gay — until I suddenly found myself in love with a woman."

  "So you've considered it for about five seconds." Talia nodded, seemingly completely unfazed. "All right, I can work with that."

  Brenna shook her head. "How did Cass find you?"

  "She looked in the Yellow Pages under damage control," Talia replied. "I helped her and Cameron Palassis keep her news all positive while she was divorcing Mitch."