Sins of the Flesh

by Fern Michaels

  “Yes, I can understand that. Well, I’ll have a memo sent around as soon as I get a secretary. Business as usual until I…I understand the workings of this studio. It’s been a long time since I’ve been here, and even then I was here in a visiting capacity only. As a child, Mr. Sugar let me play in the proproom. It was a wonderful place of make-believe.” Damn, she was talking too much. The boy was looking at her as though she had two heads.

  Philippe shuffled his feet. “If there’s anything…”

  “I’ll call you,” Bebe said, locking eyes with her son.

  When the door closed behind him, Bebe’s shoulders sagged. How was she going to work here, day after day, with Reuben’s image so near? Her heart was beating so rapidly, she had to sit down. She bolted up a second later when she realized this was Reuben’s chair, his indentations in the soft material. “Damn!”

  For God’s sake, this wasn’t a shrine, she scolded herself. It was an office, used by a man who had run Fairmont Studios. Calmer now, she took the time to look around, to savor the place that had held her husband captive all these years. It was comfortable but fairly Spartan, much like the outer office. A workplace with no frills and no doodads. Well, she would change this and the outer office. It was what she wanted now, a conducive atmosphere for her to work in. Earth tones would be nice, with splashes of bright color. Perhaps a smaller desk that wouldn’t dwarf the room and the occupants that came to…check on her out of curiosity. This had been fine for Reuben because he was larger than life and twice as intimidating. No leather, but soft nubby material on the chairs. Cushions with bright colors. Several green plants. Some brass or bronze on the walls. Maybe a collage of Fairmont’s biggest box office hits.

  Bebe perched on the edge of Reuben’s chair and drummed her fingers on the desk. Obviously refurnishing the office was to be her first priority, a secretary second. And there was no time like the present to get things under way. With something like relief, she rose and left the office.

  Outside, Bebe knew people were looking at her covertly as she walked along the newly paved walkways. When she reached her destination—the proproom she found Al Sugar and outlined her request; ever-accommodating, he promised her that Reuben’s old offices would be transformed by four o’clock. Her second stop was the personnel office, which agreed to send several “possibles” for her to interview at four-thirty.

  “How many people does it take to make this studio what it is?” Bebe muttered to herself as she walked around, staring at the crowds of people hurrying along from one destination to another. Actors and extras in makeup and costume, propmen and stagehands hauling scenery, directors, producers, writers…Fairmont was, literally, a dream factory.

  This place, this studio, created temporary happiness and entertainment. And because of Reuben it was a better place than when her father had operated it. She had to give her husband that much credit. Reuben had diversified, buying this and that and adding to the studio’s enormous wealth. Tonight she would take a set of books that she would requisition from legal and study them at home. Will I ever be able to take hold, absorb the whole of it, she asked herself.

  Where was Reuben now, what was he doing? Was he in the East or on his way to Europe? Last night had been hard on her, so emotionally hard that she’d sat up in the kitchen all night drinking coffee. Where had she gotten the guts to confess to her past misdeeds? And how and when would Reuben retaliate for her sins? She shivered in the warm air.

  An hour later Bebe had completed her walk around the perimeters of the studio lot. In her mind she now held a mental picture of each building that rested on each lot. She decided she’d earned her lunch.

  She was just brushing the crumbs from a meat pie off her green silk dress when she spied Daniel and Jane Perkins walking arm in arm toward her. If she didn’t speak, they wouldn’t notice her; their eyes were intent on each other. They’re in love, Bebe thought in surprise. She’d always thought of Jane as rather plain, but smiling as she was now, she was pretty. And Daniel…well, Daniel wore the silliest smile she’d ever seen.

  A few moments later Philippe and Nellie approached on their way to the lunch wagon. She was beautiful, this proper-looking young lady who was laughing at something her son had said. He wore a wicked grin as he playfully poked Nellie’s arm. So, Bebe thought wistfully, they all had someone, Daniel and Jane, Nellie and Philippe, Reuben on his way to Mickey. And what did she have? Wilbur. A damn dog.

  To while away the rest of the afternoon, Bebe walked over to the studio’s massive library. There she was observed looking through the chronological stack of books relating to the studio. Studio personnel watched as she flipped through the dusty tomes, scribbling notes on some kind of chart.

  At four-thirty she folded the long yellow sheet of paper and stuck it in her purse. It was time to see what the head of the prop department had accomplished with her office.

  She would have gasped in surprise if the four women from personnel hadn’t been sitting in the outer office. Instead, she gave them a curt nod and marched through to her own office. Inside, with the door closed, she clapped her hands and whirled around delightedly. It was beautiful. Warm and inviting. She could definitely work here. It wasn’t exactly sparkling—in fact, it was rather dusty—but that could be changed when she hired one of the four women in the outer office. Secretaries cleaned offices, watered plants, and made coffee.

  By six o’clock Bebe made her final choice. Tillie, a petite middle-aged woman with no aspirations to be anything other than a secretary, had an infectious grin that Bebe adored, and impossibly curly hair that stood up in tight ringlets. When Bebe had asked what her skills were, she’d debated a moment and then replied, “I could lie and say I’m a whiz at office work, but I’m not, and you’d find out sooner or later. I taught myself to type and my dictation skills are so-so if you go slow. But I know how to file,” she’d added brightly. “Other than that, I’m addicted to soda pop, long, clanking earrings, and I think most men stink.” This was said out of the corner of her mouth, sotto voce.

  “You’re hired!” Bebe grinned. “What’s your feeling on dogs?”

  Tillie grinned. “They like me and I like them.”

  “Good, because I have one and he’ll be staying here in the office with me. You can start tomorrow if you like.”

  Tillie nodded agreeably, and they went on to discuss salary. Bebe knew she was paying twenty-five dollars more than she should, but since Tillie had agreed to walk Willie and clean up, it would be worth it.

  Bebe Rosen was on a roll.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The moment Nellie Bishop set foot in Reuben Tarz’s mansion, where she was to live with her father, she knew with dead certainty that she wanted to be rich and famous, and she didn’t want to have to struggle to reach that end. Tucking Philippe Bouchet under her wing wasn’t going to do it for her, but marrying him might. If she wanted to make inroads quickly, she would have to shed her carefully cultivated sweet-young-girl image. However, she would have to do it by degrees. If she charted her course and stuck to it, she could be married to Philippe Bouchet within a year. It wouldn’t take that much doing to break down his old-world courtliness. After all, he was a man, and a man had certain biological needs, needs she could fulfill if she wanted to, or she could hold out for the ring and the marriage certificate. Perhaps this very mansion would be hers someday. She swooned in ecstasy when she envisioned herself sweeping down the elegant mahogany staircase in a designer gown while hordes of actors and actresses waited below to curry her favor.

  Nellie walked through the downstairs rooms touching costly figurines, rubbing her hand over the brocade on the sofa, staring at her image in the polished cherrywood. Everything looked so new…so unused, waiting for her to breathe life into it. Parties at poolside, Japanese lanterns, tons of food, music, servants waiting on her hand and foot. Yes, this was what she wanted.

  For now, though, she and her father were caretakers of this splendid mansion, seeing to the birds, m
aking sure pipes didn’t break, and doing all the things that went with living in a house.

  Nellie’s eyes glowed with pleasure as she climbed the wide, curving staircase that led to her room. She drew in her breath at the top when she leaned over the balcony to stare down at the marble foyer. “Mine, all mine,” she murmured as she made her way to the bedroom that was to be hers.

  The bedroom was larger than the whole of the second floor of the Georgetown house, and it was hers. Done in mauve and dove-gray silk, the room was exquisite. If she removed her shoes, she would sink into the luxurious carpeting up to her ankles. The wall-length-mirrored closet would surely hold hundreds of outfits, each prettier than the next. Racks and racks for shoes, other shelves for handbags and gloves, perhaps one for hats, although she didn’t like to cover her head except for funerals.

  The bathroom made her gasp with its sunken tub and black marble walls. The first thing she would buy would be crystal decanters for perfume, bath salts, and powders. The towels were thick and luxurious beyond anything she’d ever seen. “All mine,” she crooned as she wrapped one of the misty-rose towels around her torso and danced her way into the bedroom, where she dropped the towel in front of the mirrored closet.

  “Soon,” she breathed as she set about unpacking her bags. The collegiate-looking clothes and simple playsuits looked so out of place on their scented hangers. Nellie’s eyes narrowed speculatively; from now on her paychecks would go toward filling this closet. Perhaps if she sweet-talked her father, she could convince him her simple clothing was not suitable for California. Maybe tonight she’d talk to him if he wasn’t seeing Jane.

  Jane…Jane Perkins with the sweet smile and observant eyes. Jane saw right through her, of course, and it had amused her at first. Amused her because Jane knew Philippe was interested in her, and that interest could be swayed, placing Jane’s job in jeopardy. Still, she would have to be careful since her father was obviously enamored with the production head, she thought craftily.

  Bebe Rosen Tarz would have to be cultivated, too. Perhaps she could bring Philippe and Bebe together in an emotional way so that Philippe could take over the business end entirely. If things were left the way they were now, Bebe would only be in the way, a thorn in her side. And she knew enough about Bebe to play the game, the same game she’d played over the years. Match and checkpoint, she gurgled. Oh, yes, it would behoove her to align herself with Bebe. Tomorrow she would “drop in” on Bebe and begin the game, a game with one set of rules—hers.

  Chapter Twenty

  The sheer curtains on the French doors danced with a gentle midnight breeze, bathing Daniel’s naked body with coolness. Overhead, stars sprinkled the heavens, surrounding the silvery moon like a halo.

  Jane stirred in the crook of Daniel’s arm, causing him to tighten his hold imperceptibly. He was never, ever, going to let this woman get away from him, he thought with a contented sigh. Making love with Jane was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to him. His other life had been a mere passage of time to get to this place, this moment, with this warm, gentle, caring woman whose passions, like his own, had exploded into millions of stars.

  “I didn’t know…I never felt…How is it I’ve lived all these years and never—”

  “Shhh,” Jane said, placing a finger over his lips, not wanting to spoil this perfect moment.

  It had happened so naturally, so innocently. Daniel had kissed her good night at the door, and she’d clung to him, savoring the feel of his arms about her. Then she’d asked him in and held his gaze steadily until he’d weakened and said, “Well, I could use a cup of coffee.” Coffee in the kitchen turned to wine in the bedroom. Jane wasn’t sure who had initiated the second kiss, not that it mattered now. A second glass of wine led to a third and the courage to remove her clothes, her eyes clinging to Daniel’s to see if he noticed the slight sag to her once-firm breasts and the extra flesh on her hips. What she saw in his eyes was mirrored in her heart and gave her the confidence to lead him to her bed. She smiled. Within minutes she knew she had a sleeping tiger by the tail. They’d been like wild animals at first, ferocious and vociferous as they’d explored, touched, tasted, and savored. They’d teased, petted, kissed, and kissed again and again, tasting each other. They’d laughed, giggled, pinched, and nibbled until neither one could bear it another moment. Then they’d made slow, wonderful love as though they’d been doing it for years. When their passions exploded simultaneously, they’d laughed together in exultation. And then she’d cried, never having experienced anything so total, so completely hers, and she knew Daniel felt the same way.

  “I’ve waited all my life for this,” Daniel whispered,

  “So have I,” she whispered in return.

  “Do you feel like we were meant for each other?”

  Jane smiled in the darkness. “I knew it the day I met you and Reuben outside the studio, but you never noticed me. The few times we met over the years, you were…I don’t know, it seemed to me as though you had a mission in life, and there was no room for me even if you had noticed me. And, of course, you were married.”

  “Jane,” Daniel said, hiking himself up on his elbow to stare down at her, “my marriage to Rajean, as I told you, was…a desperate move on my part. I wanted to belong to someone, to be connected, if you know what I mean. I think it was Nellie I loved, not Rajean. We were a family of sorts. I knew it was a mistake almost immediately. Inside of a week, really. We were pals more than anything. One day I said, ‘Do you want to get married?’ and she said, ‘It sounds like a good idea,’ and we got married. At first she tolerated sex, and after a while she made excuses. She made it very clear that she didn’t have much use for men, and while I was a man and her husband, it didn’t seem to make much difference. Later on I found myself staying later and later at the office, even sleeping there. It was no marriage, not ever. Some men channel their sexual drives into work, and that’s what I did. If there was any energy left at the end of the day, I showered it on Nellie. After the first year I legally adopted her. I know this sounds terrible, but Rajean’s death was a blessing…for me, and for Nellie as well. I’d made up my mind to divorce Rajean before I came out here and told her so. Nellie…Nellie accepted it, at least I think she has. She’s a remarkable young lady. She didn’t cry at all. I know she’s grieving inside, that’s the way she is. Working with you will be good for her. Isn’t she a wonderful kid?”

  Jane chose her words with great care. “She’s asked a million questions, and she took stacks and stacks of folders home with her. She said she wants to learn the business from the ground up. That shows initiative, don’t you agree?”

  “It certainly does. Do you think Philippe and Nellie are…I think they go together very well. You know what I’m trying to say.” Daniel laughed.

  “I think it’s safe to say Philippe is very interested in Nellie. I’ve seen the way Nellie looks at him.” But not the way you think, Daniel. She’s calculating and manipulative. Daniel, you are so wrong about your daughter; you don’t know her at all.

  “They’ll be good for one another. Now they each have someone,” Daniel said happily.

  Just like Bebe and Reuben, who fed off each other. Can’t you see Nellie is just like Bebe? Can’t you see it, Daniel?

  Daniel kissed her, a long, lingering kiss. “I don’t want to leave, but I have to. Nellie always waits up for me, and I’m going to have a devil of a time explaining where I’ve been. It’s, my God, it’s two o’clock!” He jumped out of bed.

  “Are we…does this mean…are we a secret, Daniel? If so, I must tell you I can’t accept that. I have never sneaked around with a man, and I don’t plan to start now. Nellie’s old enough to understand her father having a relationship with a woman,” Jane said tightly.

  Daniel took her face in his hands and gazed tenderly into her eyes. “No, Jane, I would never ask you to sneak around. I would never expect that. I’ll talk to Nellie, of course I will, and knowing her, she’ll be thrilled for the both o
f us. But not tonight. Tomorrow,” he said, leaning over to kiss her again. “You do like Nellie, don’t you?” he added anxiously.

  Once again Jane chose her words with care. “She’s a charming, beautiful young lady, and she has an equally charming and handsome father.”

  Daniel left Jane Perkins’s house feeling confident that his was a wonderful world. He had Nellie and now he had Jane. “Jesus, what a lucky man I am,” he murmured. He smiled all the way home.

  The smile was still on his face when he pulled his car alongside Philippe’s in the circular driveway. The fact that his daughter and his best friend’s son were parked together in front of the house at two-thirty A.M. didn’t surprise or bother him at all.

  “And where have you been?” Nellie chirped through the open window of Philippe’s car.

  “Gathering orange blossoms,” Daniel quipped. Then he remembered his promise to Jane and walked around to the passenger side of Philippe’s car. “Actually, I was with Jane and time…got away from me.”

  “Reminiscing will do that.” Nellie laughed. “I’m going to remember that line the next time I’m late.”

  Daniel smiled fondly at the two young people. He wagged his finger under his daughter’s nose. “Not too much longer, Nellie, tomorrow is a workday. Good night,” he said affably.

  “Your father’s right, Nellie, it’s time for you to go in,” Philippe said quietly. “Tomorrow is here already, and I have to be at the studio by seven.”