“I guess at sometime in our life we all get the wake-up call.”
“Wake up to what? To the inane idea that despite the fact that I bust my ass every day of my life to make sure I live a life that counts for something, I shouldn’t be too successful because I’m black?”
“No, wake up to the fact that white people control the game because they make the rules.”
“I don’t know if I can play the game anymore. Two days ago I walked out of my house a man, confident that I could conquer the world. Today I left that jail feeling like a fucking eunuch,” Trace said wearily.
“You’re not a eunuch. You’re a strong, virile black man who will not allow the life to be sucked out of him by some billy-club-wielding jackass wearing a badge. You did nothing wrong, they did. Once you’ve had time to sort this thing through, you might want to make that point to the NYPD in a big way. Being the fabulous lawyer you are, I’m sure they’ll get the message loud and clear.”
“Feli, I can’t do this alone. I need you. Will you stay here with me, tonight?” Trace pleaded, trying to contain his tears.
“Of course I will,” Felicia said. Seeing Trace hurt like this tugged at her heart and made it impossible to say no. “Why don’t you get out of those clothes and take a shower. I’ll fix you some hot tea and cook dinner. You must be hungry.”
“Thank you,” Trace said, staring deep into Felicia’s eyes. “I have been such a fool,” he said sadly, resting his head momentarily on her shoulder before trudging heavily down the hallway to the bathroom.
Felicia headed to the kitchen to make dinner. When she put the chicken in the microwave to defrost, the digital clock on the oven caught her eye. It was 8:57. She’d completely forgotten Lexis’s premiere. She picked up the phone and dialed his beeper number. Within three minutes the phone rang.
“What the hell happened to you?” Lexis screamed into Felicia’s ear. His anger began to dissipate as he listened to her explanation. “Man, that’s some sorry shit. I feel for the brother.”
“How did it go?”
“We turned it out, baby. Too bad you had to miss it. Why don’t you come on over to the party? It’s just getting started.”
“I can’t, Lexis. I’m here with Trace. I told him I would spend the night.”
“You what!”
“He’s pretty upset. I couldn’t let him be alone.”
“Sure he’s torn up now, but give him a couple of days and he’ll be right back to the same punk who was trying to snatch your company. I can’t believe you’re letting him play you like this.”
“He’s not playing me, but I do owe him.”
“Why?”
“Because this was the man I made a home with for almost ten years. Tonight he had the scare of his life, and I refuse to let him go through it alone.”
“Maybe it’s about time he realized that he can’t hide behind his Harvard degree and his house in the Hamptons forever. Maybe what Trace got was what he needed—a kick in the ass to wake him up to the fact that he’s a black man livin’ in a world where he ain’t liked and ain’t wanted, despite his extensive knowledge of fine wines.”
“I think he learned that lesson the hard way, which is exactly why he needs me. Trace’s entire world is falling apart. I can’t just turn him away.”
“I’m tryin’ not to hear this, Felicia.”
“And I’m trying not to argue about it. I’m sorry I missed the premiere, but this is an extenuating circumstance that could not be avoided.”
“Well, I need you, too, so you make the choice. It’s either him or me.”
“This isn’t necessary, Lexis, but if you can’t understand that—”
“Understand what? That you can’t let go of the man who’s been controlling your life for years?”
“I’m not holding on to Trace. I’m just helping him through this rough spot,” Felicia tried to explain.
“This is the kind of thing that brings people together. You were in the process of emotionally distancing yourself from him and now—bam!—you’re right back in the mix. I can’t wait forever, Felicia. I won’t.”
Felicia heard the sound of the dial tone singing in her ear before she could open her mouth to respond. She hoped like hell that Lexis was wrong about her getting emotionally caught up again with Trace, but she was also afraid he might be right.
40
“Hi, Doug. This is Zoe. You don’t know me, but I’m a friend of Gabrielle Donovan. We work together.”
Doug’s ears and heart perked up at the mention of Gabrielle’s name. “Yes?”
“I’m calling because I’m very worried about her.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” Doug asked, concern coloring his voice.
“This is a delicate situation, since you two no longer date,” the woman began.
“Just come out with it,” Doug said impatiently. If something was wrong, he wanted to know without going through all this hemming and hawing.
“Ever since Gabrielle’s been seeing Jack Hollis, she’s really changed. She’s out partying all the time, showing up late for bookings, short-tempered and difficult to work with. The word is that Gabrielle’s doing drugs and boozing it up pretty good.”
This news crushed Doug. He would never have dreamed that the Gabrielle he knew and still loved would get caught up in alcohol and drugs. She knew damn well that substance abuse was the quickest way to ruin her career. “Does Greg von Ulrich know this?” he asked. Saying Greg’s name aloud was painful. Doug had realized long ago what a fool he’d been to suspect Gabrielle of sleeping with him.
“To be honest, I don’t know.”
“I find it hard to believe that Greg von Ulrich would ignore any talk about his top model using drugs.”
“If you don’t believe me, you can see for yourself. They’ll be at the MarMa party tonight at Nell’s.”
“I don’t know what I can do to help. As you said before, Gabrielle and I are no longer a part of each other’s lives.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. There’s just one other thing—”
“Yes.”
“I think he might be hitting her. I don’t know it for a fact, I just know she’s had some weird bruises lately. I thought you’d want to know,” the caller said and hung up.
Doug sat in silence, holding the phone as the dial tone turned into a recording telling him to hang up and dial again. The thought of Gabrielle caught up in the seamy side of stardom disturbed him greatly. Was he to blame? Was Beatrice right? Had the pain he caused Gabrielle by his foolish mistake driven her to hanging out with some abusive, lowlife playboy, doing drugs and flushing her professional integrity down the toilet? Blame or no blame, he couldn’t let this continue.
Stephanie sat holding the picture of Jack and Gabrielle, smiling like a fool. It had been a stroke of genius to pretend to be a model and lay that bogus story on Doug. She could tell from the moment she mentioned Gabrielle’s name that he was still stuck on her. She wasn’t quite sure if Doug had bought the drugs-and-booze story, which is why she’d added the business about the bruises. It was the perfect touch. She’d bet her next paycheck that Doug would show up at Nell’s tonight gunning for Jack. And when he did, Howie would be there to capture the fireworks on film. But this time the news wouldn’t stop at her column. Because this was a big party by a major feature-film company, the television cameras would also be rolling, catching any shenanigans between the three on videotape. It was time to spread the wealth. The more newspapers and tabloid programs picked up the news on Gabrielle, the sooner the public would be clamoring for the story behind all these headlines.
“Say good-bye, Gabrielle. Your days as Miss Goody Two-shoes are over. From now on the world is going to see you for what you really are—a selfish, conniving bitch,” Stephanie promised as she slowly tore the picture to shreds.
“Isn’t there anything we can do to stop this?” Gabrielle asked. She and Jack were in the limo on their way from the Praline Livin’ screening to the premiere par
ty, when Jack presented her with the latest Star Diary. Her calm had quickly turned into anger thanks to another fabricated story by Visa Lee.
“It’s really not that bad,” Jack said, taking a good look at the pictures that accompanied the article. His eye first fell on the photo of the two of them outside the restaurant. Jack was pleased with the way he looked in the photo—appealing, confident, out on the town with one of the world’s most beautiful women. They made a striking twosome. The second picture showed them both smiling, cuddled up at the driving range. “This is a great picture of the two of us,” he commented before reading the article to her.
It appears that the reigning ice princess of the supermodel set, Gabrielle Donovan, has suffered a major meltdown. Word has it that she’s being squired around town by boy toy and advertising guru Jack Hollis, her first public romance since dumping bestselling novelist Doug Sixsmith for her boss, Greg von Ulrich. According to sources, it’s too soon to know how far this liaison will go. Mr Hollis, known for his on-again-off-again romances with any famous woman who will have him, may decide to drop Gabrielle for the next flavor of the month. Stay tuned as this model saga continues.
“I wouldn’t worry about this,” Jack told her, happy to see his name in bold ink. “You know it’s not true, and the bigger a stink you make about it, the bigger a deal it becomes.”
“It is a big deal when people I care about get hurt.”
“Look, I don’t know or care what happened in the past, but this kind of stuff doesn’t bother me at all. It’s the price you pay for being a celebrity.”
“It’s a high price.”
“Forget this. What you need to do is go to the MarMa party and have some fun.”
“Wouldn’t you rather go home, order Chinese, and watch a good movie instead?”
“No way. Everybody’s going to be there. You should, too.”
“Give me one good reason why.”
“A little thing called your acting career, maybe.”
“Why is everyone trying to make me into an actress? I’m a model—and a damn good one.” Gabrielle had not told Jack of the requests she’d turned down from several directors to appear in their movies. The idea of acting for a living was still far too intimidating for her to consider seriously.
“Acting is a natural transition from modeling. Look at Isabella Rosselini, Cybill Shepherd, Andie MacDowell,” Jack pointed out.
“Good for them, but I’m still not sure it’s what I want.”
“Still, being in the loop can only help if you eventually decide that it is. You gotta keep your options open, Beauty.”
“Okay, you win. I’ll go, but only because you want me to.”
“Well, if you’re into pleasing me, I have one more request,” Jack said as he smothered Gabrielle with a wet and sexy kiss. She just had enough time to repair her makeup before the limo pulled up in front of Nell’s.
“You look sexy as fuck. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to keep my hands off you,” Jack whispered in her ear as the paparazzi’s cameras flashed. Gabrielle was wearing the dress Jack picked out for her—a ten-thousand-dollar Ralph Lauren design. The pewter-colored gown, covered in beads that twinkled like diamonds, was nearly transparent and draped low under the arms, allowing a revealing side peek at her breasts.
“You’re sure this dress isn’t a little much? Or maybe not enough?”
“No way. It’s memorable. You want to stand out in this crowd. Look what that little leather-and-safety-pin Versace number did for Elizabeth Hurley’s career,” Jack told her as their names were checked off the guest list and they walked through the crowd and into the party. Sprinkled among the two hundred or so people were well-known actors, models, and rock stars. They all stood milling around the club, drinking, talking, seeing, and being seen. Jack proudly piloted Gabrielle over to the bar.
“What would you like to drink?” he asked.
“My usual.”
Jack ordered Gabrielle’s ginger ale with a twist of lime and a sidecar for himself. They carried their drinks back into the center of the room and were soon joined by Lois Jourdan and Lexis Richards.
“Happy holidays. Enjoying the party?” Lois asked.
“We just got here,” Gabrielle said.
“So did we.”
“Lois Jourdan and Lexis Richards, this is Jack Hollis.”
“I like your work. I thought Praline Livin’ was phenomenal,” Jack remarked.
“Thanks for the props,” Lexis said.
“Where’s Felicia?” Gabrielle asked.
“She was otherwise occupied,” Lexis explained, the tightness in his voice obvious.
“Gabrielle, Lexis has been talking my ear off about you. He thinks you’d be perfect in his next movie,” Lois said, getting away from the subject of Felicia. “I keep telling him that since you’ve already turned down Penny Marshall and Martin Scorsese, he’s going to have to do some fancy talking.”
“And I keep telling her that you’re a born actress and I’m just the director to bring out your hidden talents,” Lexis responded. “I mean, I’m not trying to dis Penny or Marty, but they obviously didn’t have the right vehicle. I think I do.”
“I didn’t realize you’d turned down parts in those movies,” Jack commented, surprise all over his face. “Why?”
“Like Lexis said, they weren’t the right parts.”
“I’m still working on the treatment, but I’d love for you to do a screen test when the script is finished,” Lexis said.
“I’ll think about it,” Gabrielle said, unwilling to commit to anything.
“Bet. I’ll be in touch,” Lexis promised as he and Lois headed off to chat with actor Samuel L. Jackson and the president of MarMa.
“I can’t believe you turned down the chance to work with two such huge directors,” Jack said. “They make hit films. They could have made you into a movie star.”
“Eva, over here,” Gabrielle called out to her friend, ignoring Jack’s comment. She had no desire to try to explain her reasons for ignoring the movie industry’s invitations into their exclusive club.
Within seconds Jack and Gabrielle were joined by model Eva G. and her date, Pic, the bass player for the rock group 8-Track. Pic had an incredible sense of humor and kept them all laughing hysterically over his stories of life on and off the road. Gabrielle was grateful for the entertainment, as it kept Jack from pressing her further about her nonexistent acting career.
“What’s your name again?” asked the burly man at the door.
“Doug Sixsmith. I was invited tonight, but I RSVP’ed my regrets. Well, I changed my mind.”
“Oh, yeah, you’re that writer guy. Go on in,” the bouncer said, parting the velvet rope that separated the stars from the stargazers.
Doug hurried into the club and immediately began to look for Gabrielle. After his initial pan of the room, he was certain that he would not find her. This party was the epitome of everything Gabrielle detested about the celebrity side of her business. The room was full of women sheathed in tight, attention-grabbing dresses and men in their casual yet carefully constructed power fashions. Gabrielle hated these phony types who were ever ready to flash their insincere smiles and recite their padded résumés.
He was about to leave, satisfied that the mysterious phone call was a gross exaggeration, when he spotted Gabrielle standing with Eva G., some skeezy-looking guy in leather jeans, and a man whom he presumed to be Jack Hollis. They were all hunched over and laughing hysterically. Immediately his heart skipped a beat. Despite the fact that she was dressed like an expensive call girl, Gabrielle was still the most exquisite woman he’d ever laid eyes on.
Doug winced slightly as he saw Jack speak to Gabrielle, his words prompting her to quickly drain her drink and hand him her empty glass. His eyes continued to watch as Jack handed Gabrielle his drink, from which she took a healthy swig, made a face, and broke into laughter. Doug clenched his teeth as Jack indiscreetly rubbed Gabrielle’s behind and then headed
off toward the crowded bar.
Doug was astounded. In all his time with Gabrielle, he’d never seen her even finish an entire drink, let alone gulp one down and grab another. From the drinking to her dress, Gabrielle had changed. The caller was right to call him. Jack Hollis had corrupted Gabrielle and was leading her down the path to disaster. Doug had to talk some sense into her. He only hoped she would listen.
“Good evening,” he said, sauntering up to the group. “Gabrielle, Eva, it’s nice to see you again.”
“I remember your face,” Eva said, “but I forgot your name.”
“Doug Sixsmith.”
“That’s right. You’re Gabrielle’s friend, the writer. This is Pic,” Eva said, introducing her date.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Hey, dude, how’s it going?”
Gabrielle, shocked to see Doug, found herself quickly draining the rest of Jack’s drink. She coughed slightly as the alcohol spilled down her throat. What was Doug doing here? This was the last place she’d ever expect to find him. He hated these stupid parties as much as she did.
“Gabrielle, how are you?” Doug asked.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, sounding much more abrupt than she intended.
Doug felt himself bristle at her inhospitable tone of voice. “I was invited. MarMa bought the film rights to my novel.”
“How nice. A bestseller and a movie. I guess nothing slows you down, does it?” she said with sarcasm.
“Working keeps my mind off other things. Have you read it?”
“No, I’ve been busy,” Gabrielle answered sharply. She couldn’t believe that Doug was taunting her like this in public. He’d read her letter. He knew damn well she couldn’t read his book, even if she wanted to.
“Well, maybe you’ll get around to it,” Doug said, disappointed that, just as she had promised she would in her note, Gabrielle had totally written him out of her life.
“Don’t count on it,” she said nastily.
“Excuse us, Pic and Eva, I’d like to speak to Gabrielle for a moment,” Doug said as he took Gabrielle’s arm and led her to a quieter corner of the room. Unaccustomed to the rush of alcohol through her system, she stumbled slightly.
Read Between the Lies Page 31
