‘Who doesn’t? Those gorgeous eyes and that marvelous body and that face and that talent...’
‘Interesting that you put talent last on the list.’
‘You can’t deny that he’s got talent,’ Claire said. ‘He went through Dartmouth on scholarship.’
‘That’s what his publicist says.’
‘Shannon, I won’t argue with you. Just listen to his music, okay?’
‘Are you my agent or his? Don’t sell him to me, Claire. You should have seen his entrance today. He acted as if he were the king come to visit his subjects. Everybody was supposed to bow and scrape.’
‘Really?’ the other woman asked coyly. ‘The story I got from Crawford was that the guy came in alone, without any fanfare at all.’
‘Well, maybe,’ Shannon admitted grudgingly. ‘But everybody bowed and scraped. You’d have thought he was... I don’t know, royalty or something.’
‘He is,’ the agent laughed. ‘American royalty. His concerts sell out as soon as they’re announced...’
‘As far as I’m concerned, he’s an arrogant, overbearing...’
‘They said you could hear the sizzle when he kissed you.’
‘What he did,’ Shannon said quietly, ‘was embarrass the hell out of me. The sizzle everybody heard was me, burning with anger. I wanted to slap his face. I don’t know why I didn’t, now that I think about it. Maybe it was just that he caught me by surprise.’
The agent placed her knife and fork neatly across her empty plate. -
‘“He pulled her into his arms as if he were going to devour her”,’ she said calmly. ‘That’s a quote from one of the make-up people.’
‘A misquote, you mean. He didn’t pull me into his arms. Besides, it doesn’t matter. It’s over.’
‘ “Padgett collapsed against him as if her legs had turned to jelly at his touch”.’ Claire sat back while the waitress cleared away their dishes and served her apple pie. Then she leaned across the table, eyes narrowed. ‘That’s a quote from the script girl.’
‘The child reads too many romances,' Shannon said coldly. 'I did not collapse against him. I barely touched him.’
‘ “The second they looked at each other, you could see the sparks fly. And when Morgan kissed her, everybody in that studio caught his breath. It was a toss- up as to whether Shannon would kill him or drag him into the sack”.’
‘Not true!’ Shannon said with horror in her voice. . ‘What damned fool said that?’
‘Jerry Crawford,’ Claire said sweetly. ‘Your director. Boy, this pie is delicious. Want a bite?’
Shannon shook her head. A prickle of suspicion was beginning to dance up her spine. There was something wrong with this entire conversation.
In fact, there was something wrong with finding herself in a restaurant in East Meadow, Long Island on a Thursday night in late October.
Claire prided herself on never leaving the borough of Manhattan, except when business demanded. It had even been an effort to convince her to pay a visit to the Cape Cod repertory theatre when Shannon had appeared there.
‘Claire,’ she said softly, ‘why are we here tonight?’
‘I told you, I have to check out somebody.’
‘Why am I going, then?’
‘You’re keeping me company, Shannon. You’re going as a favor to me.’
‘And you’re going as a favor to Crawford,’ Shannon said quietly. 'You still haven’t explained that.’
The agent pushed aside her empty plate. ‘OK, why not? I mean, I didn’t want to say anything to you until It was certain, but... It’s almost in the bag, I guess, and... ’
The prickle of suspicion was doing a tap dance. Everybody seemed terribly interested in what had happened between her and Cade Morgan. And suddenly Jerry Crawford wanted something from Claire—that was interesting all by itself, especially since Shannon had never seen him say more than hello or goodbye to her agent.
Until today, she thought suddenly, until today, when Crawford had spirited Claire into a dark corner of the sound stage and talked to her in low tones for almost ten minutes; until today, when Cade Morgan had shown up and spoken knowledgeably about All Our Tomorrows...
She took a deep breath. ‘Who’s performing at the Coliseum, Claire?’ she asked in a soft voice. ‘Who are we going to see?’
The woman glanced around her and then leaned towards Shannon. ‘Cade Morgan,’ she whispered dramatically, ‘that’s who.’ She ran her tongue across her lips and her voice dropped even lower. ‘ Crawford’s just about signed him for a role in All Our Tomorrows
'What?'
' He was going to do a few days’ work— you know, a guest shot thing—but then today, after what happened between you and Morgan.’
‘Nothing happened! I lost my temper. And Morgan retaliated by making a fool of me.’
‘That’s not the way other people saw it.'
’ ‘Never mind what other people saw! ‘Cade Morgan and I... ’
‘Cade Morgan and you set tongues wagging on a set where people are so blasé they don’t react to anything! That’s pretty damned impressive.’
‘Look, I’m not going to argue about it. It’s over and done with, and—'
‘Shannon, just listen, okay? Jerry and the producers had a meeting this afternoon. They’re thinking of playing you and Morgan together.’
Shannon stared at her agent in disbelief. ‘You can’t be serious. You mean, Cade Morgan would play opposite me instead of Tony?’
Claire smiled. "Exactly.'
'No. That's impossible. That’s Tony’s part. It’s set...’
‘So they’ll unset it. There’s time; your storyline doesn’t take off until next week. God, this is so exciting!’ Claire leaned forward and placed her hand on Shannon’s. ‘Everybody would be watching, and I do mean everybody. Hollywood people, Broadway people, international film people—they’d all see your work and know your name. This could shoot your career into orbit.’
‘No. No! Claire...’
‘And, of course, your part would be expanded. You might end up one of All Our Tomorrows' featured players, if things go the way Crawford expects.’
Shannon shook her head. ‘What this might end up is a disaster!'.
‘Disaster? Sweetie, Crawford says you and Morgan will be dynamite together. He says he has Morgan half-convinced to take the part. He says...’
‘Did he say what would happen if Morgan bombs? The man’s not an actor. Crawford wants him because he has an enormous following. And if Morgan bombs, so do I!'
‘Nobody's gonna bomb. Think of the publicity! Every fan Morgan has would tune into Tomorrows..'
Apprehension filled Shannon with cold dread. ‘Claire, listen to me,’ she said desperately. ‘You know what happens each time the camera’s on Rima. She’s not an actress—everybody in the scene with her has to carry her.’
‘You think that’s what will happen with Morgan Well, I guess it’s possible, but even so, he'll draw zillions of viewers.'
'What you're telling me is—you're telling me I don't have anything to say about this.'
'No,' her agent said bluntly, 'you don't. This is Crawford's decision.'
Shannon felt tears of anger burn behind her eyes.
‘It isn’t fair,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I’ve worked damned hard for this chance. Just think of how many good actors have cut their teeth on soaps. If you can make it in daily daytime drama, you can certainly make it in films or prime-time TV. I mean, what are half the big nighttime TV shows but soaps?'
‘You don’t have to sell me on soaps,’ Claire said patiently. ‘I don’t think anybody has to sell Morgan, either. That’s why he wants this part of Tony’s. I’m sure he’s got his eye on bigger and better things.’
Shannon’s eyes flashed. ‘And what happens to Tony? Does he get dumped?’
Claire sighed. ‘That’s one of the advantages to all those characters and plotlines. They’ll find another part for Tony. Not that the
y have to—you know how it is in a soap. Nobody’s indispensable.’
‘Which brings us back to square one. Have you thought about what might happen to me if this over-the-hill guitar player doesn’t work out?’
Claire patted Shannon’s hand. Relax. Crawford wouldn’t do anything that would jeopardize the ratings. If he wants to use Morgan, he must figure the guy can carry it off. Where is that waitress?’ Claire added, peering around the restaurant. ‘I don’t want to get to the our seats late..’
The few mouthfuls of steak lay like lead shot in Shannon’s stomach.
‘I can’t believe this. The man has no training, no talent, nothing except his name.’
Claire arched one eyebrow. ‘His name, his gold records, his fans...’
‘He probably has all the acting talent of a—a baboon, and I’m supposed to make him look good?’
‘I don’t think that’s what Crawford expects, Shannon. He says the guy has natural talent.’
‘In bed, maybe,’ Shannon snapped, the words tumbling from her mouth before she could censor them.
‘So you do know what came across in the studio today,’ the agent said softly.
‘What happened today had nothing to do with sex.’ For the space of a heartbeat, Shannon remembered the pressure of Cade Morgan’s hand on her neck and the feel of his mouth on hers. ‘Nothing at all,’ she repeated, forcing the fragmented memory aside. ‘I insulted him. He got even. Period. End. Finished. Why can’t anybody understand that?’
Claire sighed and signaled for their bill. ‘To tell you the truth, that’s what I thought, after I heard the story. But Crawford insisted that wasn’t the case. So, while you were scrubbing off your make-up, I talked to a few other people.’ She cast a sidelong glance at Shannon and smiled guiltily. ‘I told you, they saw the same thing Crawford saw.’
'They saw what they wanted to see.'
'Maybe. That’s why I wanted to see Cade Morgan perform tonight.’ She took Shannon's hand. ‘Look, you know I wouldn’t let you make a bad career move. If there aren’t any sparks or flames or whatever it is all those jokers think they saw...’
‘Of course there aren’t!’
‘Then I’ll be the first to say so. And tomorrow, I’ll convince Crawford it’ll be better to let Morgan do his guest shot and to let you and Tony have another go at that scene. I promised Jerry, OK? What’s the big deal?’ Claire glanced at her watch and slid from the booth. ‘We don’t have much time,’ she said. ‘Morgan’s Marauders come on in half an hour.’
Shannon got to her feet and slipped into her jacket. ‘Believe me, if his group’s anything like him, that’s a perfect choice of names,’ she said grimly, following Claire out of the crowded restaurant. ‘Wait until you see this man, Claire. There’s nothing subtle about him.’
Claire buttoned her coat as they stepped into the crisp autumn night. ‘‘Don’t worry about a thing,’ she said. ‘We’ll watch the performance and then we’ll go backstage and I’ll introduce myself to Cade Morgan...’
Shannon came to a dead stop. ‘I am not going backstage,’ she said firmly. ‘I don’t want to see the man again.’ .
‘Look, you want me to get this idea out of Crawford’s head, right? Well, how do you expect me to do that unless I can tell Crawford there isn’t any chemistry between the two of you? Those mythical sparks everybody talked about...’
‘They're just that,’ Shannon said stubbornly. ‘Mythical. Nothing more.’
‘Fine. Just let me do my job tonight.' Claire tucked her arm through Shannon’s as the light changed. ‘ Trust me, OK? We’ll say hello to Cade Morgan...’
‘Not me,’ Shannon said quickly. ‘I’m not saying anything to him.’
The agent glanced at her and arched her eyebrows. ‘Fine. I’ll say hello, you’ll glare. Fair enough?’
‘And then tomorrow you’ll tell Jerry his idea’s no good, right?’
'If that's what I think, that's what I'll tell him.'
Shannon took a deep breath. ‘Okay. We’ll suffer through a couple of hours of bad music and then we’ll go pay our respects to Cade Morgan.’ She smiled tightly. ‘Actually, I’m sure he wants no more to do with me than I want to do with him. In fact, we’d better make sure he doesn’t know we’re in the house until he finishes performing. Or he might just have me thrown out.’
‘Is his music bad?’ Claire asked innocently. ‘I’m not sure I’m familiar with it.’
Shannon thought of the softly haunting songs and husky voice she’d listened to for years, though she'd sooner have walked through the flames of hell and admit to that.
‘Neither am I,’ she said, lying so glibly that she never had time to wonder why she had lied in the first place.
CHAPTER THREE
Had so many people ever been in one place at one time before? Shannon stared at the stage of the Coliseum, as much surprised by the size of the audience as by its intensity. There had been tickets waiting for them at the box office—courtesy of Jerry Crawford, Shannon was certain, although Claire had ignored her when she’d asked who had arranged for them—and they’d been ushered to two seats in the first row, center stage.
The auditorium was enormous. There were enough people seated in it to make up the population of a small town. The opening act was just leaving the stage as Shannon and Claire settled into their seats. The crowd applauded politely and then the usual rustles and coughs spread through the huge hall.
The crowd was murmuring quietly, but Shannon was aware of an electricity in the air, a subtle tingle that sent a shudder through her. She felt as she sometimes did on a hot August day, watching the sky darken as a thunderstorm swept in. There was that same sense of something powerful and exciting approaching, the same heady mixture of anticipation and caution.
The house lights dimmed. The first, faint melody of an old Marauders’ song sighed eerily through the Coliseum and the audience grew silent. Gradually, smoky- blue spotlights winked on, revealing the Marauders—a drummer, a bass player, and a guy playing the keyboard.
Applause thundered through the auditorium, rolling towards the stage like a mighty wave, meeting the song and curling over it until the applause and the music were a palpable force, throbbing with a life of its own.
‘Look,’ Claire whispered, poking her elbow into Shannon’s ribs. ‘Morgan’s coming.’
The breathlessly delivered message had not been necessary. One of the spots had picked up a figure at the rear of the stage. Shannon’s eyes followed its smoky glow and locked on the man standing motionless beneath it.
It was Cade, wearing a chambray workshirt rolled up at the sleeves, and a pair of faded jeans. His head was bent towards his guitar as he twisted the tuning pegs. And then he looked up and smiled, and suddenly the crowd was on its feet, the applause a deafening roar from hands held high as it paid homage to a man who had survived musical fads by transcending them.
Cade moved downstage, still smiling at the crowd, and when he reached the microphone, he nodded and held up his hand.
‘Thank you,’ he said, the husky words barely audible above the applause. ‘Thank you,’ he repeated, and the audience quieted in expectant silence. He looked around the huge auditorium and a slow grin eased across his face. ‘We’re happy to see you, too,’ he said, and as the applause thundered towards him again, he turned to the bass player and nodded.
The crowd sighed as if with one voice, and suddenly the hall was silent. Cade lifted his guitar and his fingers plucked at the strings. A minor chord thrummed in the darkness, a chord so poignant it brought a lump to Shannon’s throat, and then Cade’s voice whispered through the darkened auditorium, as smoky and blue as the spotlight, as husky and intimate as she remembered it from the studio.
She sank slowly back into her seat, her eyes never leaving the man on stage. He was singing an old song, a ballad she’d heard a thousand times before. But she’d never heard it sung quite this way: his voice caressed the words and re-grouped the phrases unt
il suddenly the song had a passion and a meaning that made it new. Shannon realized she was holding her breath as she listened.;
Perhaps everybody had been doing the same thing, because the auditorium was absolutely silent until Cade plucked the last notes from his guitar strings. A sighing sound whispered through the Coliseum, as if the thousands gathered there had shared the song’s sorrow together, and then applause and shouts shattered the stillness.
Claire turned to Shannon, eyes shining with delight.
‘Have you ever seen anything like it?’ she whispered. ‘He’s got this crowd in the palm of his hand.’
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