“When you were a child, there must have been times when you wanted your mother to be there.”
“Yes, but I knew she was helping other people.” She looked at Olivia. “But sometimes I wanted her to help me. Sometimes I wanted to be like the other girls and complain about how my mother wanted me to choose a truly hideous prom dress. When I chose my dress, my mom was in Mumbai at a medical conference, and my caretaker at the time was a retired butcher. I now know how to field dress an elk, but sometimes…”
“You wish you could have had a normal teenage fit.”
“Yes.” Casey glanced back at the stage. “This is stupid, but I miss Tate even more than I used to miss my mother. I didn’t think that was possible. But I don’t know if I can trust him. Devlin says—”
Olivia cut her off. “Are you basing part of your judgment on what someone else says? Casey, you can’t do that. You have to use your own instincts, what you want.”
“I know,” she said, “but I can’t dismiss information from someone who knows Tate so well. Uh-oh. Kit wants us onstage. I may be off in this, but are you and our illustrious director angry at each other?”
Olivia stood up. “He made a pass at me and I turned him down. Come on, we have lots of scenes to rehearse.” She started toward the stage, but Lori stopped her.
“I was wondering about something, and Kit said you could help me. There’s a scene where Lydia gets to go on a trip, but her sister Kitty can’t go. The girl playing Kitty and I are friends—or used to be—and…” She gave Olivia a look of helplessness.
“You want to know how to play it so you’re glad but not shoving your triumph in her face.”
“Yes!” Lori said. “That’s exactly what I want.”
“Let’s go over to the side and we’ll figure out how to run the lines so you don’t hurt your friend’s feelings.”
As Casey watched the two of them walk away, she thought how sad it was that Olivia would never have her own grandchildren. Then she thought of Kit. He was older, but he was a really good-looking man. “Why in the world would you turn him down?” she said under her breath.
“Hi.”
Casey looked up from the pot of bubbling blackberries to see Devlin standing outside the screen door. She couldn’t help the frown that flashed across her face. With three dinner parties to plan and prep for, she needed to get the jam into jars. She didn’t have time to hear Devlin’s snide remarks about Tate.
As soon as she thought that, she felt guilty. The man had confided in her in friendship and she should have sympathy for him, not wish he’d go away.
“I don’t mean to bother you, but I was wondering if I could hire you.”
“Oh!” She put down her spoon. “Sorry. Come in.” She felt even more guilt for what she’d thought. Be nice to customers, she reminded herself.
He came inside, but he didn’t sit down. “Today I’m rehearsing scenes with that kid Lori. I don’t know how Jane Austen could write about a grown man going after a fifteen-year-old girl.”
“There was no ‘politically correct’ then.” Casey glanced back at the pot.
“I won’t keep you,” he said. “A friend of mine, Rachael Wells, is flying in on Saturday morning and she wants to go on a picnic. Could I hire you to make something wonderful to take with us?”
“Sure.” Casey wiped her hands on a towel as she picked up a pen and notepad. “What do you two like to eat?”
“I, uh, I…” He gave her a helpless look. “You wouldn’t go with us, would you?” As though he weighed a thousand pounds, he flopped down on a stool. “I’m in a bit of a pickle. This woman has a crush on me. She was the co-star of my TV show, played my girlfriend. It was on cable, so we did some nude scenes together. Hazards of the trade. Anyway, I’m afraid Rachael took it all seriously. She said she’s coming here Saturday morning and she’s demanding that I take her on a picnic. I know she wants us to be alone in the country, but frankly, the idea scares me. So would you please go with us?” His eyes were as pleading as a hungry dog’s.
Casey didn’t want to go, and her instinct was to say no. But then she thought of this man being Tate’s niece’s father, and she found herself nodding.
Devlin got off the stool, his face one huge smile. “You are a great, great friend. Thank you so much.” He went to the door.
“What about the food?”
“Anything you like,” he said as he left. “I trust you.”
—
The moment he was out of sight, Devlin began cursing. The bitch had forced him to change his plans! Landers was gone, so what was the frown she’d given Devlin when he showed up? What hold did Tate Landers have over women?
This morning Devlin had rehearsed what he’d say to Casey, about how Landers had ruined his TV show. He planned to use her sympathy to get her to go on a picnic with him. Yesterday he’d heard of a nearby sheer rock face beside a stream. Devlin thought he’d take Casey there, then fake a nearly fatal accident and let her save him. Women so liked a helpless man. While she was nursing him back to health, they’d just naturally end up in her bed.
He loved thinking about telling Landers that he’d enjoyed his new girlfriend. It wouldn’t be as great as when Devlin had taunted him about his sister, but it would still feel very good.
But when Devlin saw Casey frown, he knew that wasn’t going to work. Landers had certainly done a number on her! He’d played the hero and made her believe it.
As always, everything was given to Landers, but Devlin had to work hard for what he got.
For a few moments, he’d had no idea what to do. But then he thought, I’ll have to get someone else to tell her.
The story about the girl and the picnic had been impromptu—and if he did say so himself, it was some of his best work. Just that morning he’d been thinking of Rachael. On the TV show, their sex scenes in front of so many people had turned him on so much that he’d been eaten up with desire. Uncontrollable. He’d pulled her into his dressing room and not given her a chance to say no. But then, what could she say? Devlin was the star of the show. His word was law. If she refused him, he’d just tell the producer that Rachael wasn’t right for the part, and she’d be killed off—which is what he’d ended up having to do.
Even though today hadn’t gone as planned, Devlin had spontaneously come up with the idea of Rachael and a threesome picnic. His acting had been so good that he wondered why he’d never before realized how brilliant he was at improvisation. Really quite remarkable.
Smiling at the discovery of yet another talent, he took out his phone, found her number, and touched the call button.
“Rachael? It’s Devlin,” he said into the phone.
“What the hell do you want?” she snapped.
“Come on, baby, don’t be like that.” His voice was low and coaxing.
“You got me fired! That TV show was the best job I ever had. A regular paycheck. And all I had to do was look at you like I gave a crap whether you lived or died.”
“I’m sure you don’t mean that. I hear you haven’t found another job yet.”
“Nobody will hire anybody who was on that show you ruined. It’s like you put a curse on all of us. The guy who played your boss won’t even put it on his résumé. I wouldn’t but—”
Why did people always blame him? Devlin wondered. He cut her off. “How about if I make it up to you? I have a job for you. It’ll only take a couple of hours. I’ll fly you out here to the glorious state of Virginia, you’ll play a part, then you can go home the next day. I’ll even shell out for a night in a hotel. How does that sound?”
“Like you’re up to no good.”
“Do you care?” he shot back.
“Not when I owe three months’ back rent, I don’t. Except I won’t do anything that’ll get me put in jail.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you, baby. How well do you know Tate Landers?”
“We’re great buds. He hangs out around my pool. We have drinks together every Friday.”
&nb
sp; Devlin gave a little laugh. “I miss your humor. Then you haven’t been one of Tate’s millions of girls?”
“If he used to be your brother-in-law, how come you know nothing about him? Word around town is that it’s easier to get a front-row seat at the Oscars than to get into Tate Landers’s bed. Some girl I know tried, but—”
“Do you want the job or not?” Devlin snapped. “Or are your scruples going to get you thrown out on the street?”
“How much are you paying?” Rachael asked through clenched teeth. “And what exactly is the job?”
“You’re going on a picnic, so wear something conservative. No cheeky shorts.” He paused. “You can wear them later. For me.”
“You ever touch me again and I’ll make you sorry. Now, talk to me about money and what I have to do to get it.”
Casey glanced at her phone yet again. There were emails from her mother, Stacy, and a couple of friends from Christie’s, but nothing from Tate. It had been four days now and she’d not heard a word from him.
Yesterday at the rehearsals, Gizzy said she’d received several texts and emails from Jack. She wanted to ask Jack about Tate, but Casey said no. “He’s probably just busy,” Casey had mumbled, then returned to her lines.
Right now she was sitting on a quilt with Rachael Wells. Devlin was far downstream, a fishing rod in his hands. He didn’t seem to be very practiced at flinging the line into the water.
She looked at Rachael. She was a pretty woman with lots of dark hair, and wearing a sundress that could have been in a 1950s movie. Her bare arms and tan legs were quite thin. “For the camera,” she’d told Casey when they first met.
On the drive to the picnic site, Rachael had given Devlin several come-on glances, but he’d ignored them. When they got to the area, he’d slapped some cheese on bread and run off, leaving the women alone.
“You’re going back to L.A. tomorrow?” Casey bit into a slice of quiche.
“Yeah, but damn! I wish I’d known Tate wasn’t here.”
“Do you know him?”
Rachael gave a little snort. “Oh, yeah. Tate Landers and I have been friends for a long time. I know his last picture didn’t do well and that he thought the publicity of this local play would help, so I assumed he’d be here.”
Casey was trying not to let her curiosity show. “You wanted to see him about something?”
“Actually, I have the photos he bought.” She glanced toward Devlin, who was well out of hearing distance. “I certainly can’t give them to poor Devie. After all Tate did to him, I don’t mention his name.” She lowered her voice. “In fact, Devie doesn’t even know I still do work for Tate.”
“What exactly happened between them?”
“Oh. That. Ever hear of a TV show called Death Point?”
“No.”
“Of course you haven’t. No one has. It was Devie’s show and Tate killed it. I guess he got jealous of how well it was doing. One star per family seems to be Tate’s motto, and he was it.” Rachael looked at Casey in surprise. “Hey! You live nearby, so you could give these pictures to him.”
“I’m not sure…”
“They’re not porno, if that’s what you think. I mean, not that Tate is above that.” She looked around to make sure they were alone. “Just between us girls, if you ever get a chance to go to bed with Tate Landers, do so. I can tell you that an hour or three with him is worth it. You’ll remember it always.”
Casey swallowed. “So you and he were lovers?”
“Were? Honey, we are lovers. You don’t think I flew to the middle of nowhere just to deliver photos, do you? Devie’s made it clear that he wants his ex-wife back, so I have to make do.” She laughed. “I came here to get my Landers fix.”
Casey could feel her entire body stiffening. “I think he’s seeing someone.”
Rachael waved her hand in dismissal. “Tate is always seeing at least two women at a time. Any woman who thinks differently is in for a lot of pain.” She pulled a thick envelope out of her handbag. “This was a big job for me. It wasn’t easy to set that whole thing up while I stayed in L.A. That kid had to be anchored to the roof, and the cables hidden and released by movie magic. It was a nightmare!”
“Roof? What are you talking about? What child?”
“You didn’t hear about it? That rescue Tate and Jack faked? I was told it went off perfectly. I was worried about the kid, but Tate said he’d be okay. Anything for the career, right?”
“Are you saying that the little boy sitting on the edge of the roof and the rescue were part of a publicity stunt?”
“Of course. You don’t think two mega-stars like Tate Landers and Jack Worth are going to play hero without a reason, do you?” She was looking at Casey’s shocked face. “I’m sorry. I forget that I’m not in L.A. Everyone there is publicity savvy. I didn’t mean to burst your Middle America bubble.”
“Would you please tell me this entire story?”
“Sure. It was Jack who called me, but then, Tate always has a sidekick. For a while it was Devlin, but…” She shrugged. “Poor Devie. Tate threw him out of the marriage and got him cut from his TV show, both at the same time. I don’t know how he survived it.
“Anyway, Jack called me and said he and Tate were going to some estate sale and they needed something to happen that would portray them as heroes. It wasn’t easy, but with the help of a guy I know in Richmond, we set it up. I rented a truck, found a cute kid for the roof and a professional photographer to record it all. No video, just still photos, so it looked more real.” She held out the envelope. “You can see them if you want.”
Casey knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t stop herself as she pulled the photos out. The top one was of the little boy sitting on the edge of the roof. Gizzy, a rope around her waist, was walking toward him. She looked beautiful, but the child seemed scared.
“Notice that the men stayed inside where it was safe. They weren’t going that far for publicity!”
Next were two pictures of the boy’s mother. Casey held it up to Rachael, her eyebrows raised in question.
“She’s a local actress, and the kid belongs to her neighbor. That mother is going to be furious when she sees these photos on the cover of the tabloids!”
Casey went to the next picture. It was of her hanging down the roof.
“That’s the other girl. Jack was laughing when he told me that Tate got stuck sleeping with the fat one. Poor guy. But I guess in a small town, even he has to make do with what’s available.” As she stared at Casey, her eyes widened. “That’s— Oh, no! I didn’t realize you were the second girl they put at risk. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know Tate was using you to— I mean, that he’s— I have to shut up. Here! Let me have those pictures. I’ll ship them to him.”
“No,” Casey said. “I’d like to keep them.”
“Sure.” There was sympathy in Rachael’s eyes. “After the way Tate used you, you can have anything you want. I’m really sorry about this. And I’m going to kill Devie for not telling me about you and Tate. In L.A. everyone knows what he’s like, but out here in the sticks…I really am very sorry.”
She waited, but Casey didn’t speak. “Damn! Now I’m wondering about the next thing Tate wants me to do. He said I should put on heavy clothes and go through some thorn bushes. He said there’s a…” She checked her notes. “A well house? I’m a city girl. I have no idea what that is. But I’m supposed to peek through a window and take pictures of him inside it. Maybe they’re some kind of art photos. Whatever they are, he thinks that if they’re published, they’ll renew interest in him as a romantic hero. He’s worried that younger guys are going to knock him off his pedestal.”
Rachael turned to look at Devlin by the stream. “I think we better go. I have a lot to do.” She stood up, gave a loud whistle, then motioned for him to return.
Casey was sitting on the quilt, as still as if she were frozen—or dead. All of Rachael’s words jumbled together so that she could barely think clearly. The
well house. The rescue. That dear little boy. All done for Tate Landers’s career? All a publicity stunt?
Rachael looked down at her. “I think I’ve upset you. Why don’t you go back to the car? We’ll clean this up.”
Casey managed to stand up, and for the first time in her life, she didn’t repack what she’d cooked. She stumbled to the car, opened the back door, and got in.
The only thing in her mind was that she must warn Gizzy. The men were in it together. They weren’t real. They had come to a small town and found two females willing to go to bed with them. And poor Tate had been stuck with the “fat one.” Too bad he hadn’t shown up at the theater earlier that first day so he could have had the town beauty.
She watched as Rachael and Devlin put away the picnic things. She seemed to be bawling him out. Rachael was probably chastising Devlin for neglecting to let her know that Casey was the current bedmate of Tate Landers.
Tate had hired Rachael to photograph them inside the well house! Her stomach turned over.
As Rachael and Devlin started toward the car, Casey tried to get herself under control. Okay, so she’d fallen for a movie star’s tricks. She could write it off as a learning experience. Someday she might even be able to laugh about how naïve she’d been. For all that she’d thought she was keeping her emotional distance from Tate, she hadn’t succeeded.
What was important now was to warn Gizzy that she too was being used. And, also, Casey knew she could not tell anyone what was going on. Later, when the “rescue” was on the front pages of some news magazines, she’d be able to say, “Of course I knew it was all a stunt. That child was securely tied onto that roof. No, no, it was all done for publicity and I knew it.”
The Girl From Summer Hill Page 22
