He tightened his grip on me and I looked up at him, “I was angry, but now I understand why you did it, I don’t feel quite so much like you should burn in hell.”
He dropped his eyes towards the floor, “They told you didn’t they? I guess you had a right to know. I should have told you myself. I probably should burn. You should hurt me. I deserve it.”
Duffy sang, “You’ve got me begging you for mercy, why won’t you release me.”
“You’re drunk,” I said.
He looked up, straight into my eyes, “Yeah, but not that drunk, I know what I’m saying.”
“Maybe you should have some coffee.” I tried to pull out of his arms but he had me too close.
“Why are you running away from me?”
“I’m not running away from you. I could hardly get closer to you.” He held me tightly with both arms, one at my waist and one higher at my mid-back, his palm flattened over my shoulder blades. I was pressed against his bare chest.
He tightened his hold, lifting me onto my toes. “I haven’t done more than look at a women in a long time. Harriet messed me up. She’s one hell of an actor. I thought she loved me. I thought I loved her. I thought I had to be good for her and Anissa. The whole world was always watching.”
I looked up into his eyes and saw his pain, kept hidden till now. I reached up and brushed my fingers across his cheek and he tilted his head toward my open palm.
“Now I’m looking at you Andi and I want to do more than look and here you are in my arms,” and he brought his lips down to my ear and whispered, “How convenient.”
I went still and stiff in his embrace and Duffy sang, “Now you think that I will be something on the side.”
I put my hands on his chest and pushed him away breathing heavily, “Not again.” My head was whirling though not from too much wine. How could he do that to me? First he stole my image and wrecked my privacy, and when I’d finally understood why and admitted to feelings for him that weren’t inspired by the violence of a train crash, he assumed I was convenient enough for a real affair. Bastard! He should burn.
He reached for me, “What is it?” We were alone, Shane and Sally had disappeared.
“Don’t touch me. Don’t even look at me,” I spat. “I will do my job for the two days and then it’s all over. All you are to me is an outstanding invoice and an amusing dinner party story.” I left him standing there with Cee Lo Green’s ‘Forget you’ ringing in his ears. How appropriate.
The only thing stopping me from crying was Shane appearing in the corridor outside my bedroom. Echoing Rush he said, “What is it?”
I walked straight into his arms and kissed him. He made a surprised “hmmm” and pulled back to look at me for a moment before wrapping both arms around me and pulling me against the full length of his body.
“Hey, Blanche,” he grinned.
“Hey, Stanley.”
The next kiss was more a shared endeavour with far more heat behind it, our tongues touching. I ran my hands over his chest, down the ripples of his abdomen and around his back. His skin was sun warmed and silky and I couldn’t seem to get close enough to him.
“What are you doing?” he whispered against my ear with a chuckle.
“It’s sort of obvious isn’t it?”
“Andi?”
“Hmmm.”
“What do you want?” he asked.
“I want you,” I said, reaching up to run my fingers though his shaggy blonde hair.
“Like this?” He put his hand to the back of my head and dragged the band out of my ponytail releasing my hair around my face and shoulders.
“Oh yes.”
“Like this?” He unbuttoned my shirt revealing my black one piece.
“Yes.”
“Like this?” He ran his hands up my back inside my shirt against my skin.
“Mmmm.”
“How about this?” He put his hand under my thigh and lifted it, wrapping my leg against his hip.
I splayed my fingers across his smooth muscled chest. “Yes!”
“You don’t want me,” he put a hand under my chin and lifted it so I was looking into his blue eyes. “No seriously, you don’t want me.”
“You don’t think?” I said, pressing hard against him, tracing my hand over his shoulder and up to his ear.
He shook his head, “No, you don’t woman.”
“How about I show you?” I breathed inches from his lips.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No, you’re just using me,” he pulled back a little.
“What?”
“Don’t look so offended,” he laughed. “You just want me because I’m here, convenient.”
“No I...” I pushed my hair out of my eyes.
“Yes.” He still had hold of my hips.
“So, what’s wrong with that?” I whined.
“A few little things.”
“You don’t want me?” Now I was confused.
He groaned, rocked his hips against mine, “I think it’s pretty obvious that I do. You almost had me forget who you were, but it’s not the right thing for you or me, or him.”
“What?” He couldn’t be serious, surely.
“I like you too much Andi to do something stupid like this.”
“I can’t believe this. I just wanted tonight.” God, he was making me beg.
“Yeah, well it doesn’t work like that for me, despite what you might think,” he put his palm on my cheek, “I see you Andi, you’re not someone to just fool around with. Now, I’m going to go do some push-ups to get over what you’ve just done to me,” he laughed, dropping his hands, “And don’t go getting all weird with me tomorrow.”
He leaned in and kissed my cheek softly, turned and went into his bedroom leaving me standing there, burning with embarrassment. Could tonight be any more humiliating? I’d just dodged another of Rush’s conveniently aimed bullets, only to throw myself at the world’s most bed-able man and get smacked down because he thought I was conveniently using him. Was there a better definition of frustration? Was it possible to die from irony?
If there had been anywhere to storm off to I would have. As it was, in a haze of disbelief, I headed for the door. I had to get outside, I needed air, but there coming up the verandah stairs in the dark was Rush. How much of that had he heard?
I changed direction and headed for my room. In bed, staring at the ceiling I tried to think of nothing. Not my anger, not the look of confusion on Rush’s face, not the embarrassment of throwing myself at Shane, or his amused rejection, not the tears I was too scared someone would hear to sob. What I did think about was another of those old fortune cookie messages, Love is free, but lust will cost you everything you have.
I needed to sleep. In the morning I’d have to find a way not to be weird with Shane, to be crisp and professional with Rush and to avoid Arch so I didn’t cry on his shoulder and beg him to make it all better.
25: Morning After
Surely they’d just assume I had a hangover. That would account for the dark circles under my red rimmed eyes. Perhaps I could play the rock star and wear my sunglasses in the house, something my actual rock stars probably wouldn’t do.
It was all I could do to drag myself out of bed that morning. Everything hurt. What I needed to do was keep it together for two more days and then it would all be over. I would never have to see Rush again. Nothing could make me buy a ticket to do so.
More urgent was finding the courage to man up and apologise to Shane for throwing myself at him. I’d hardly had anything to drink, so I couldn’t use that as an excuse for trying to use him as a convenient salve for my burnt out emotions. But not yet, coffee before courage.
Hoping I was the first awake I went through to the kitchen. No sign of Simon, so I put the kettle on and waited for the water to boil. That seemed like something I could manage without screwing up.
I should have left the room immediately. I should have made a bunch of noise, clattere
d a pan, smashed a plate, so they’d know I was there. I should have done almost anything else but what I did do.
Rush was in the hammock, his arm draped over his face. Arch and Shane were sitting on the front steps. I could hear them as clearly as I could hear my own heart thumping in my ears.
“In your defence, you’re out of practice man,” said Shane reasonably.
“I’m not thinking I have any defence,” groaned Rush.
“What exactly did you do?” asked Arch.
“I don’t know,” Rush sounded perplexed.
“You must know, you weren’t that drunk,” said Arch. “What exactly did you say?”
“That it was convenient she was in my arms.”
“Oh shit!” exclaimed Arch.
“What?” asked Rush.
“You didn’t use that word did you?”
“What word?”
“Convenient,” said Shane, the humour in his tone making me cringe.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Rush!” said Arch.
“What, I’m not too bright this morning. You’re going to have to help me out.”
“You told Andi she was convenient,” said Arch, annoyed.
“Oh fuck!”
“Man oh man, that explains it,” said Shane.
“Explains what?” said Arch.
“Never mind,” said Shane. “You gotta square this up Rush, now.”
“How am I going to do that? She hates me all over again.”
“Don’t you have an award for being good at this sort of stuff?” asked Shane.
“This isn’t acting. I don’t have a scriptwriter here to tell me what to say. I have no idea how to make this right,” Rush said wearily.
“She doesn’t need a production number,” said Arch, “she needs you to tell her what you’re thinking. She’s not a mind reader, even though you think she can do anything. She can’t possibly know what’s going on in your dumb skull.”
“My skull is numb.”
“Yeah, whose fault is that then?” said Arch.
Bugger the coffee, what I really needed was a swim. I didn’t want to hear anymore. Especially to know that Rush thought I was more than just convenient. I certainly didn’t want to see any of them. I fled the kitchen passing a yawning Simon on his way in.
I was floating on my back trying to pull my confused self together when Rush found me at the pool. I saw him from the corner of my eye but pretended not to and went on floating. How very mature. He sat on the edge of a pool lounge. He was barefoot and wearing white linen cut offs and a white shirt with most of the buttons undone.
He sat, slumped forward with his head in his hands, his hair was mussed up, reminding me of Michael. Maybe he would go away and we wouldn’t have to dance this particular song. Next time I peeked, he’d moved to the edge of the pool and sat with his legs in the water.
“Andi, can we talk?”
I heard him despite the water in my ears, that voice. I couldn’t very well keep ignoring him. I opened my eyes, squinted up at him, collapsed at the waist and floated my feet to the bottom of the pool.
“You don’t need to say anything, but I need you to listen.” He tossed my sunglasses to me and produced his own. They were very dark and obscured his eyes. I could see myself reflected in each lens. Now we faced each other across the heat haze and the glare of the blue water but we were both still running away.
“I’m usually at my best when someone writes the words for me to say, but I don’t have that luxury so I’m going to give it a shot. I want to tell you a story. I’m going to give you the outline and then we can decide how it finishes together. Ok?”
I nodded. What else could I do?
“Once upon a time, nah – I’m sorry. He dropped his head and swished one leg in a small whirlpool. “Start again. There was a man,” he looked up and x-rayed me, “and in the ways of the world he had it all. He was handsome, famous and rich.”
He inclined his head in acknowledgment and went on, “He was married to a beautiful and talented woman who was everyone’s sweetheart and he had a wonderful daughter who loved everything pink. He spent his time being an entertainer and to balance out that insanity, he found ways to make his money make a difference to other people who were not as lucky as he was. Are you with me?”
I nodded.
“But what the world didn’t see was that the woman wasn’t really beautiful, although she looked like an angel, and the daughter wasn’t really his, although she called him Daddy. Unfortunately, the man himself didn’t know these things either for a very long time. He knew something was wrong but instead of fixing things he just made more movies, did more plays and got more rich and famous.
“One day, the woman pointed out to him that he was a fool and worse, a coward and she gave him an ultimatum. She said if you want to have the girl who is not your daughter in your life, you have to show the world you are a cheating bastard.
“And the man thought about this and he didn’t know what to do. He thought he should give the evil woman what she asked for at any cost so he could keep hold of his daughter.
“But the man had two friends and they were his real family. His friends told him he needed to be rational and they took him to a country far away where he could clear his head.”
“What happened next?” I said softly, hooked, moving closer to him.
“When he got there he met another woman. This woman was very different. She limped, she had a dog with a bucket on his head and a bird that talked and she was so very kind and brave and beautiful. When he first saw her on the sticky tarmac with her crutches he thought she was so real and perfect and magical. But then he was very out of practice with matters of the heart and he was stressed, so he wasn’t sure about how he felt.”
I stepped right up to him and touched his ankle under the water, “What happened then?”
“Through the miracle of modern technology, the evil woman had followed the man to the other side of the world. She told him he had one day to give her what she wanted or else. One day. The man lost his ability to think clearly and made a whole bag of bad decisions. Firstly, he decided to fight the evil woman and then he decided that he and his friends would show the evil woman they didn’t care for her dastardly ways and lastly, he did an awful thing to the other woman, the magical one.”
“What did he do?” I reached up on tiptoe and removed his sunglasses. I wanted to see him completely. I wanted to know if he was acting or if this was real.
“He took advantage of her. He stole her image, her name and her privacy and he did it on purpose because he was desperately stupid and because she was convenient and he could control her reaction. The magic woman found out all about his terrible use of her and she didn’t like being called Cinderella. She was really, really mad at him.” He paused, shifted his shoulders, keep his eyes on mine.
“But there was a worse crime. When he used her, he stole some of her magic and after that she would never trust him and she was sad and angry, but very professional. He really did want to fix this new problem, but he didn’t know how. So he found a project to work on, which was what he always did to avoid the hard stuff. And he found reasons to keep the woman close to him, just in case he could stumble on a way to get past the echidna spines.”
“And did he do that?”
He pushed himself off the edge of the pool and slipped into the water to stand in front of me. He was so close the soft billow of his shirt brushed my hand and I could see the darkness under his green eyes. I studied his face. If this was acting it was an award winning performance.
“He thought he’d found a way to get through to the magic woman, by trying to show her who he really was. He thought she might find a way to forgive him, but just when she was beginning to thaw, he screwed it up again.” He reached forward and took my glasses off and put them on the side of the pool.
“First he made her think he was interested in someone else. Then he was careless with her and sent her into the arms
of his friend.”
“You know,” I whispered and embarrassed dropped my head so that all I could see was our feet distorted by refraction.
“Look at me Andi. Please look at me.”
I looked up at him but my throat was tight and I could feel tears building at the back of my eyes. If I squinted he might think it was the glare.
“What happened then?” I croaked.
“Well, mostly what people want, when it’s a story about a man and a woman, is a happy ending, but I don’t know how this story ends. Right now, I don’t think it’s going to be happy, because I’m looking at the magic woman and I’ve upset her again and I really don’t know how to make this better. All I can think to do is to kiss her and I know that can’t possibly be the right....”
I kissed him instead. It was the only thing I knew how to do. I touched his lips with mine and they were warm and soft and dry. I felt the scrap of his stubble and my hands went to his hair and he gathered me against him. We held each other as if to squeeze out all the confusion, anger and sadness, to finally break the spines that pricked each other and write the end of the story.
He pulled back first, let out a ragged sigh and tucked my head against his chest so his voice rumbled in my ear when he spoke. “Are you saying there is a chance for us?”
“I don’t know what ‘us’ is,” I said, snuggled against his collarbone.
“Me neither, but are you prepared to give it time to work it out?”
I nodded. I didn’t trust myself to speak. What was there really to work out? He was a Hollywood actor. He lived on the other side of the world. He was looking for a distraction, something to take away the sting of an unhappy marriage and I wasn’t Cinderella searching for a way out of poverty and abuse. I was a grown-up woman with my own business, home and responsibilities, with my own life. This was no glass slipper match. This was just what we had for the next two days, conveniently.
26: Unfinished Business
Another day - another headline. This one had me confused with an aspiring
Hiding Hollywood Page 13
