Christie should have been used to this sort of thing, but it still succeeded in catching her off guard.
'That's quite true,' she confirmed warily.
'Did you know this when you applied for the job?' Sammy asked, sending a cloud of cigar smoke towards the ceiling, and Christie's blood-pressure rose by several degrees. This was the second time within a few short weeks that someone had referred in some way to the fact that she might have been aware of Lyle's presence on that expedition, and it was becoming a bit too much to tolerate.
'No, I didn't know,' she answered coldly, and another cloud of cigar smoke emerged from Sammy's smiling mouth.
'Can I believe you, darling?'
Sonia's disbelief had been acceptable to a degree, but Sammy's was downright irritating and annoying. 'Have I ever lied to you, Sammy?'
'Not that I can recall, my dear,' he said, taking the cigar out of his mouth and wiping the moistness in the corner of his lips with his handkerchief. 'But there is always a first time.'
'Until the moment we met on the university campus I was convinced that Lyle was still out of the country.' Her voice was cold with fury, and so were her eyes. 'That's the truth, and you can take it, or leave it.'
'You're getting angry again,' he warned, his eyes twinkling with mirth, 'but I don't really mind when it makes your eyes sparkle the way they used to on the stage.' She dismissed his remark with a disparaging gesture of her hands, but Sammy was persistent. 'You were always so alive on the stage when you were singing, Christie, and it breaks my heart to know that now you are simply existing.'
Christie suppressed the desire to laugh at this exaggeration, and said stiffly, 'I'm quite happy with my life the way it is.'
'More so perhaps, now that Lyle Venniker has arrived back on the scene?'
Her back stiffened with displeasure at this intrusion on her personal life. 'I don't wish to discuss the subject.'
'Don't be a fool once again, darling,' Sammy laughed cynically. 'He's not the man for you, and he won't think twice about walking out on you again.'
'It's entirely up to me whether I want to take that chance or not,' she argued, and Sammy's cigar almost fell out of his gaping mouth.
'You are not thinking seriously of taking him back, are you?'
Christie felt ashamed of herself, but at that moment she actually found herself enjoying his obvious agitation, and she took her time before she said calmly, 'I'm considering it.'
'My God!' he exclaimed, slapping his palm characteristically against his forehead. 'How can you do this to me!'
'What do you mean, how can I do this to you?' she asked, a slight frown marring her smooth brow.
'You are going to tie yourself once again to a man who does not understand the art of self-expression, and he will continue to convince you that you should smother your natural, God-given talent.'
Stay calm! Christie warned herself, but the unfairness of Sammy's statement made her feel as if her anger had been turned on to a slow boil. There was not one occasion that she could recall Sammy saying something complimentary about Lyle, but he had never before voiced his unflattering opinion quite so openly. That feeling of uneasiness, like a premonition, was becoming very strong, and it made her wonder about many things as she recalled the silent, but tangible antagonism which had existed between Sammy and Lyle.
'Lyle had nothing to do with the termination of my career as a singer, if that's what you mean,' she said in defence of the man she loved. 'I was the one who ended it three years ago, and my decision was not influenced by anyone in particular.'
'It was a mistake.' Sammy proffered his unwanted opinion bluntly.
'I'm not so sure of that,' she murmured, ending their conversation for the moment by going into the kitchen to make coffee.
Being alone for a few minutes was therapeutic. Sammy's personality had always been rather overpowering, and she had seldom emerged from a meeting with him without feeling mentally exhausted. This occasion was no different from the others, and she made use of this opportunity to strengthen her defences against that familiar ritual which she was beginning to despise. She knew Sammy too well, and she did not need to be clairvoyant to know that, tucked away somewhere in his jacket pocket, was a contract waiting for the right moment when Sammy would produce it with his usual flourish.
Christie carried the tray of coffee through to the lounge and, while she poured, she did her best to steer the conversation along a different avenue to the one she feared it would take. She succeeded, but only for as long as it took Sammy to drink his coffee.
'Christie, I have something for you,' he said, his rounded features set with determination as he put his empty cup aside. 'It is an opportunity you cannot afford to cast aside as you have done with the others.'
She raised her hands in an unconsciously physical attempt to ward off the inevitable. 'If it's another contract, then I don't—'
'It is most definitely another contract, darling,' Sammy interrupted her, leaving his cigar burning in the ashtray to produce the document from the inner pocket of his dark grey jacket. 'But this time I want you to consider it seriously.'
'Sammy, I'm not—'
'Wait until I have explained it to you before you think of turning it down,' he interrupted her again with a rebuke in his voice. 'There is no harm in that, is there?'
Whether she relented, or not, it would make no difference to this forceful man, and she gestured helplessly with her hands. 'Go ahead,' she sighed.
His triumph was obvious when he settled himself comfortably in his chair and unfolded the document in his hands. 'What I have here is a recording contract for four albums a year for the next three years.' His smile was confident as he tapped the paper with his fingers. 'Now, how much of your time will it take to record four albums a year?'
There was a catch there somewhere. There always was. Recording four albums a year would not take up much of her time, but one thing always led to another and, before she could prevent it, she would find herself caught up in that same network of binding commitments which had stifled her in the past.
'What about personal appearances?'
'There will be no personal appearances, and no tours unless you agree to it, darling,' he assured her. 'I can guarantee it.'
Christie accepted that with the cynical disbelief it deserved. 'You said that once before and, when I asked you to cancel the tour you were planning for me so that I could accompany my husband on a trip north, you thrust a contract under my nose, and read out a paragraph which I had not fully understood when attaching my signature to it.'
'This time it will be different.'
'Will it?' she laughed bitterly.
'Of course, darling,' he assured her, leaning forward to thrust the document into her unwilling hands. 'Here's the contract, read it, take it to your lawyer, and then decide whether you will accept it or reject it, but you must remember that this is a chance in a million.'
She fingered the contract as if it were something lethal, and she had great difficulty in not tossing it back at him in disgust. Experience had taught her that Sammy Peterson would never cease pestering her if she did not at least agree to reading the contract before rejecting it and, as in the past, she heard herself saying, 'I'll read it, but I'm not promising anything.'
'Good!' he exclaimed, rubbing his hands together with glee as if she had already penned her name to the document. 'I knew you wouldn't disappoint me.'
The doorbell chimed for the second time that evening, and Christie's heart leapt into her throat, shutting off her breath momentarily.
'Excuse me a moment,' she croaked, placing the document on the table beside her chair and rising to her feet.
Her insides were quivering like an animal sensing danger when she walked towards the door. It was Lyle… she knew it. She also knew, from past experience, that to put these two men in the same room was like tempting fate. Her hand shook when she opened the door and, despite her nervousness, she could not suppress that thrill of plea
sure at the sight of Lyle's tall, lean frame.
'I wasn't expecting you this evening,' she smiled up at him, but she had a feeling that her smile was a little twisted.
Lyle's dark glance went beyond her, and his mouth tightened ominously. 'Have I come at an inopportune moment?'
'No, of course you haven't,' Christie contradicted hastily, taking his arm and drawing him inside. 'I'm very glad you're here.'
The latter was quite true. She hoped that Lyle's presence might help to convince Sammy that she was no longer interested in a singing career, and she also hoped that it would encourage Sammy to leave.
'Ah, Professor Venniker!' Sammy exclaimed, rising to his feet with his cigar protruding once again from the corner of his smiling mouth. 'I suppose it was inevitable that we should meet again now that you're back in the country.'
The dislike between these two men was so intense that it was almost tangible. There was a time when, for her sake, they had made an attempt to be polite to each other, but this time she sensed that there would be no pretence.
'I would have thought a meeting between us quite unlikely, but then I overlooked the fact that people don't change much over the years,' Lyle responded harshly to the obvious sarcasm in Sammy's remark. 'I should have remembered that while there was still a suggestion of glitter left on Christie's star, you would cling to it in order to bask in its glow.'
Christie tried to smooth over the situation by placing a calming hand on Lyle's arm. 'Lyle, please don't make—'
'You are quite right, Professor Venniker,' Sammy interrupted her sharply, 'but there is one factor you have obviously ignored. If it were not for people like myself, then artists such as Christie might end up wasting their talents in spheres where their potential value is not appreciated, and you are one of those unfortunate people who has never had the ability to appreciate talent.'
'Sammy!' Christie gasped, shocked and angry at his deliberate and insulting attack.
'I can appreciate talent,' Lyle hit back in a controlled, but icy voice, 'but I can't appreciate the blood-suckers who deny people like Christie the freedom of choice, and the privilege to enjoy a private life of her own.'
'Are you calling me a blood-sucker?' Sammy shouted, taking his cigar out of his mouth and going a slight shade of purple with anger. 'Me? Sammy Peterson?'
'Please stop it, both of you!' Christie begged, trying to intervene verbally and physically in this volcanic disagreement, but Lyle placed his hands on her shoulders in a bruising grip and set her .aside firmly.
'Yes, I am calling you a blood-sucker,' Lyle continued in that calm, mutinous voice she knew so well. 'You'll take everything you can get out of Christie until she has nothing more to give, and you don't care if you ruin her life in the process.'
'Ruin her life?' Sammy exploded, almost choking on the cigar smoke he had inhaled, and Christie could see the veins jutting out dangerously against his temples.
'Please, Sammy!' she pleaded for the sake of his health more than anything else at that moment, but Sammy ignored her with an angry wave of his hand.
'I took Christie out of that stuffy little coffee bar where she was singing night after night for a mere pittance,' he shouted at Lyle, 'and I made her into one of the best folk singers this country has ever known. She had a good life until you came into it and ruined everything with your selfish attitude.'
'Sammy… Lyle!' she cried in a choked voice, making a final and desperate attempt to halt the argument between these two men. 'Please will you stop this!'
'Every man has the right to be selfish once in a while where his marriage is concerned and, considering the facts, I think I was more lenient than most,' Lyle ignored her plea as he towered over Sammy in a threatening manner. 'Christie and I were married for six months and if I had to add the days we spent together, then they would add up to no more than three months.'
Christie's mind felt as if it wanted to explode with Lyle's calculations. She had never thought of it that way before, but it was true. They may have been married for six months, but the time they had spent together could not have been more than three. It was a shocking discovery, and she blamed herself for it.
'Was it my fault your careers had such conflicting schedules?' Sammy interrupted her thoughts with his sarcastic query.
'No, it wasn't your fault,' Lyle conceded coldly, 'but you could have helped a little to ease the situation.'
The two men glared at each other like two angry, snarling jungle cats facing each other in an arena. Lyle was physically superior, but Sammy was as cunning as a jackal. He knew how and where to strike, and he would not hesitate to do so.
Sammy gestured disparagingly with the hand that held the cigar. 'I did the best I could under the circumstances.'
'Your best was not nearly good enough,' Lyle hit back.
Christie stared from one to the other in helpless despair. Nothing was working out as she had hoped it would, and that premonition of danger was rising with a chilling force that made her hands feel icy when she clutched at the back of a chair for support.
'I have always tried only to do what is best for Christie, and for her career,' Sammy defended himself.
'Have you?' Lyle demanded cynically.
Sammy ignored Lyle and turned to face Christie. 'Haven't I always taken care of you, and haven't I just succeeded in securing you the best contract since your last one expired three years ago, darling?'
'Contract?' Lyle latched on to the word with a savage snarl as if it were something obnoxious.
'Lyle…' she began, wanting desperately to explain, but she was incapable of finding the right words in that moment of stress.
'Read it!' Sammy instructed, waving the document at Lyle. 'It is an opportunity she knows she cannot afford to ignore, and this time her career will be an even greater success than before.'
Christie felt a numb fear surging through her. Sammy had made it sound as if she had already agreed to sign the contract and, when she looked up into Lyle's dark, accusing eyes, she knew with terrifying certainty that he was thinking exactly what Sammy had wanted him to think.
'I don't wish to read it!' Lyle snarled at Sammy, brushing aside the hand that waved the contract at him.
'Lyle, I—' The words locked in Christie's throat when Lyle silenced her abruptly with an imperious wave of his hand.
'I butted in on a business discussion which doesn't particularly interest me,' he said and, turning towards the door, he added a curt, 'Good night.'
Christie's slender, trembling body leapt into action at last, and she gripped his arm to detain him. 'Lyle, you don't understand, I—'
'Forget it, Christie!' he barked savagely, brushing her restraining hand away with an equally savage action, and his eyes blazed down into hers with such a wealth of hatred in their depths that she fell back a pace. 'I played second fiddle to your binding career once before, but I don't intend to do so again.'
He walked out and slammed the door in her white face with a force that made her flinch, and she stood there for some time staring blindly at the door before she turned away with a weary sigh. It was as if she had watched the replay of an action which had occurred more than five years ago, but this time it was accompanied by the suffocating fear that he would never come back.
'Did you have to show Lyle that contract, Sammy?' she asked tiredly of the man who stood observing her with a look of triumph on his round features. 'Did you have to make it sound so definite?'
'It was the best way to judge his character, darling.' He brushed aside her queries. 'If he had cared about you he would have been pleased and happy for you, but instead he was thinking only of himself.'
If he had cared. The words reverberated through her mind. A few revealing truths had emerged during the heated argument between Lyle and Sammy, and Christie was convinced that Lyle had cared sufficiently not to want Sammy to ruin her life. Sammy had been driven into a corner, and then he had played his trump card. He had waved the contract about, creating a false impress
ion, and Lyle had quite naturally jumped to the wrong conclusion.
'Oh, God!' she moaned, subsiding into a chair and burying her white, quivering face in her hands. If only Lyle had given her the opportunity to explain. 'If only…
'Didn't I say he was selfish?' Sammy interrupted her turbulent thoughts, but she ignored his insinuating query. Lyle could be accused of many things, but never selfishness.
'He wouldn't even let me explain,' she whispered in despair, lowering her hands and sagging tiredly in her chair.
'What is there to explain, my dear?'
Christie looked up into Sammy's smiling face and saw there a callousness she had never noticed before. She had always imagined that Sammy cared about her as a person, but she was beginning to suspect that there was a great deal more truth in what Lyle had said. He had, perhaps, seen through Sammy from the very beginning, but she had been too blind to see anything except what she had wanted to see, and now it was too late. Too late! The words injected a fire into her veins, and her anger erupted with a new burst of energy.
'I'm not signing that contract, Sammy.' She picked up the document he had dropped on to the table beside her chair, and she stood up to face him squarely as she thrust the contract into his hands. 'I don't even want to read it.'
'Darling, don't be hasty,' Sammy warned, his sublime confidence fanning her anger. 'Think it over carefully, and then let me know how you feel about it.'
'I know exactly how I feel about it.'
I detest it! she could have said, but instead she remained silent, her blue gaze steady and cool as it held Sammy's. He was beginning to look uncomfortable and, for the first time, he appeared to lack his usual suave, confident exterior, but people like Sammy Peterson never gave up easily.
'I'll leave the contract with you,' he said, dropping it on to the coffee table and walking quickly towards the door.
'I don't want it!' Christie shouted, her temper exploding, and she flung the contract at him so that it missed his head by inches and slammed into the door.
Sammy turned to stare at her with wide, uncertain eyes. Christie knew that this was a side of her which he had never encountered before. She had always been docile, like soft putty which he could mould to his liking, but this time she was a desperate woman who had been driven too far.
A Moment in Time Page 12
