All My Tomorrows

by Colette L. Saucier

  “What’s the role?”

  Eileen glanced down at her glass then back to Alice. “It’s as an old hag.”

  Alice burst out laughing. “I know you said you aren’t as beautiful as Giselle, but you’re certainly no old hag!”

  “They’ll use make-up, silly, and this could be a great opportunity for me.”

  “I know. It really is wonderful. So when do you need to be on set?”

  “I have to be in Louisiana by the end of the month.”

  “Louisiana in August. Ech. At least that’s during the Olympics so I don’t have to send you off to a medical convention or something.”

  “Well, that’s the thing I need to talk to you about. I don’t want to come back.”

  Alice thought she must not have heard correctly. “What?”

  “I’m leaving All My Tomorrows, Alice. I need you to write me out.”

  “Shit – how long do you have to be on location?”

  “It’s not just this film. I really want to give this a shot. Don’t hate me for saying it, but I don’t want to spend my entire career on a soap.”

  “Of course I don’t hate you. I feel the same way. Don’t you dare repeat this, but I do want something more. As long as you don’t kick me out of your life, I want you to have everything you want.”

  “I would never let you out of my life. In fact, I wanted to see if you would come with me on location.”

  “Louisiana in August? No way. Not happening. You might have to suffer for your art, but I don’t.”

  “I’ve been so worried about telling you. I’m sorry you have to change the storyline.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but I will not kill you.” The bartender stopped mid-pour at Alice’s declaration. “I refuse to kill you off, just in case you want to come back. Peter’s leaving, so you can go visit him to spend time with your devastated brother, and while you are there, you meet the man of your dreams.” Speaking of which… “Now I have to find out when Rich is getting here.”

  Alice set off on the journey to the front of the house, stopping only to speak to Jack-and-Giselle – they were joined at the hip, after all – and with a few missteps along the way. She finally retrieved her purse from the “cloakroom” and pulled out her cell. A text.

  Still in malb not gonna make it sorry prob better not to spoil the party by pissing off vold

  She would have thrown the phone across the marble tile except she really liked the case, but she did shove it back into her purse with great force. That’s it. I’m going to go. Except she had not eaten much all day, and the three glasses of champagne had gone straight to her head.

  “Fuck it.” She tossed her purse down and marched toward the party. She barely knew this guy; she was not going to let his non-appearance prevent her from having fun with her friends – really the only family she had.

  Alice had not counted how many glasses of champagne she had, but it must have been quite a few to get her out on the patio dance floor. She had to admit, the band could imitate just about any song from the eighties like a New Wave mynah bird. In fact, although she didn’t know whether to credit her friends or the upbeat music or the champagne – perhaps the combination – she could not remember the last time she had had so much fun. She and Eileen and Jack and Giselle were hopping around frenetically under the stars and twinkling lights to some song she didn’t even recognize but sounded like eighties pop.

  After ten or more fast songs in a row, the music stopped, and a saxophonist came into the stage lighting. As the opening riff for “Careless Whisper” began, Jack-and-Giselle again became a unit, and a cameraman took a laughing Eileen into waltz position.

  Alice turned to leave the dance floor and stopped just short of walking into Peter. Before she understood what was happening, he had taken her hands and tugged her toward him.

  “Where’s Winnie?” she asked.

  He furrowed his brow and peered at her through squinted eyes. “Why would she be here?”

  He stepped forward as she resisted. “I’ve been dancing – I’m all sweaty.” She was, too. Her blouse clung to her chest, and her scalp was drenched.

  “So am I.” He traced her face with his eyes and pulled her into his arms.

  Her arms were trapped against his damp chest, so she had no choice but to circle them around his neck; but that only brought their bodies closer. They barely moved, their feet somehow turning them in a sluggish rotation, reminding her of slow dancing in high school. A tingly numbness enveloped her. She surrendered to it and laid her head against his shoulder, and he tightened his hold.

  God, she loved this song. Her mother had it on almost all of her playlists. The singer sounded so much like George Michael, or perhaps the champagne improved his performance. With her eyes closed, she released a full, deep sigh. Only one thing could improve this moment.

  As if he had read her mind, Peter pulled back ever so slightly and lifted her chin with his forefinger then brought his mouth down upon hers. Nothing sweet and gentle here. He claimed her mouth with fierce passion, and she reciprocated. Their lips moving together as they continued their semblance of a dance, her body pressed against his, converged to send a charge of electricity coursing through her. He pushed his fingers through her wet hair, pulling her mouth even closer as his tongue collided with hers. He stopped even pretending to dance then, focusing all effort on the mutual plunder of their mouths.

  The song had not ended when he pulled his face away. Confused, she opened her eyes and found him gazing at her intensely. The second refrain came to an end; only then did he release his hold on her hair. Taking her hand, his other arm still around her waist, he led her away from the others and into the house while the saxophone continued to play.

  As soon as they entered the dark silent room and the door closed behind them, he had her against the wall and his mouth upon hers. She couldn’t get enough of it – she never wanted his mouth to leave – and she wrapped her arms around his neck to prevent its escape.

  He must have felt the same way because, even as he began to unbutton her blouse, he never broke away, never released her lips to trail soft kisses down her throat or nibble her ear or any such nonsense. She wanted to consume him and to be consumed in return. He felt good, he tasted good, he smelled good. She had already kissed away the saltiness of his sweat on his lips, but his scent of spice and lust still teased her. Their chests rose and fell in rapid synchronicity. Although he had unbuttoned her blouse with care, he exercised no restraint with his own, pulling it open as buttons jumped into the dark. He opened the front closure of her bra, but he did not bring a hand to her breast. Instead he laid his hands against her skin on her back, pressing his bare chest against her breasts so she could not imagine how he could hold her any closer. And never once did his mouth cease its relentless assault.

  They kissed in this manner for some time until she could think of only way to bring him closer, and she could feel his desire as well. As if by instinct, she parted her legs, and he pressed himself against her. He set her on fire – she yearned for him, burned for him, but only he could extinguish the flame. Her heart raced, and she couldn’t catch her breath until she thought she might suffocate. Only with all her strength could she take her mouth from his to pant for air. He panted as well and dropped his head against her forehead.

  “Alice.” Her name had never sounded erotic until spoken with his breathless voice.

  His voice. Peter. No, no, no.

  “Wait,” she said, bringing her hands to his shoulders and pushing him back an inch, but she kept her eyes squeezed shut. Oh, no. I am one of them – one of his groupies.

  “Alice. Be with me tonight. I have to go to Toronto tomorrow, but –”

  “Oh, no.” She extricated herself from his embrace. A one-night stand. I almost become one in his long string of them. She blessed the darkness of the room that concealed her blush and her nudity as she fumbled with her clothes.

  He reached for her, but she flinched under his touch. “What
is it? What’s wrong?”

  “This – all of this. This is a mistake.”

  “Alice, don’t say that.”

  When he took hold of her arm, she jerked away. “Stop! I-I’m sorry. I’ve had too much to drink. This should not be happening. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

  He switched a lamp on just as she finished buttoning her blouse, but she had missed one in the process and had to begin again.

  “Look at me,” he commanded, and for some reason she obeyed.

  She couldn’t believe how delicious she found him, the strength of the attraction with his shirt open, his breathing still heavy, his mouth…She looked away.

  “It’s him, isn’t it?” A hostile edginess sharpened his tone.

  “Who?”

  “Rich. I saw him, in your office, kissing you.”

  “Oh, now I see what this is about!”

  “What what is about?”

  She did face him then, prepared for the challenge. “You and Rich. You could have any other woman, but you cannot stand for him to have something that you don’t.”

  “Is that it, Alice? Does he have you?”

  “That is none of your business!”

  “Are you sleeping with him?”

  “That is really none of your business!”

  She turned and strode with purpose to the door and out into the hallway with him right behind her.

  “Listen to me – you need to be careful with him.”

  “Says the half-naked man who was just ravaging me!”

  “You didn’t seem to mind. In fact, I would say you –”

  She interrupted him with a primitive sound – half-growl, half-groan. “Stop following me! I am not one of your bimbettes!”

  She marched on toward the sounds of the party in progress and turned into a lounge-like room, quiet except for Mrs. Jellyby’s voice reverberating from the sofa where she sat pontificating to a weary Mr. Peacock.

  “You’ve seen how he is with her,” Mrs. Jellyby said, oblivious to the presence of Alice and Peter just inside the room. “She has him wrapped around her little finger! You know the people he represents. He will get her a movie deal before the year is out – mark my words! And once Giselle is in films, just think what that will mean for the show!”

  Mr. Peacock noticed them then. “Alice? Is something wrong?”

  Alice could only imagine how she must look to them – her hair a tangled mess, her face a chafed wreck, and a bare-chested movie star behind her. She muttered something unintelligible and fled out the other side of the room, which miraculously emptied into a hall leading to the front door.

  “Alice, stop,” Peter said, but she did not. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  She retrieved her purse and dug for her keys. “That, actually, is none of your business either!”

  His eyes hardened and his jaw stiff, he grabbed the purse from her hands and held it out of her reach. “You are not going anywhere.”

  “What the hell, Peter? I just want go home.” She covered her eyes with her hand and released an exhausted sigh. Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry.

  “I’ll drive you. You’ve had too much to drink.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You just told me the only reason you couldn’t keep your hands off me was because you were drunk!”

  “Amazing how anger can be so sobering. Let me have my purse!”

  “I said I would drive you.”

  “You have a house full of guests – you can’t leave. And look at your shirt. Please let me go before someone else sees us and thinks we…”

  “I’ll drive her,” Mr. Peacock said behind them. They both turned to him as he came forward and yanked her purse from Peter’s hand. He looked Peter up and down as if he emitted an offensive odor, then with his arm around Alice’s waist, he walked her out the front door.

  CHAPTER 7

  The Edge of Darkness

  Chapter 16

  The duke appeared at rehearsals one day and presented me with a single red rose.

  “How did you know where to find me?”

  “My dear lady, that is one of the privileges of having power, money, and royal blood.” He leaned forward and gave me a kiss, which probably would have lasted much longer had I allowed it. I had to admit, the duke had been quite understanding and gracious about my desire to take things very slow. “Will you join me for lunch?”

  “I’d love to,” I said, and I meant it.

  Over lunch, he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you were an actress?”

  “I guess for the same reason you didn’t at first tell me you are a duke. I didn’t want you to judge me by my title.”

  “I don’t see the connection.”

  “Most people see actors as failures or dreamers or bums unless they become a star.”

  “Oh, my dear, you are already a star in my eyes, even if you weren’t an actress.”

  I blushed and grinned. “You always know exactly what to say.”

  After a fabulous lunch, he took me back to the theatre and said, “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “I can’t. I have to work.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Robert, I have to work.”

  He tapped my nose. “You are certainly no bum.” We kissed goodbye, more than once, and parted without settling if we would see each other or not.

  I did see him that night, but rather than as a date, as a member of the clientele. I felt sorry for him eating alone under the gold murals, and when it wasn’t too busy, I walked over to talk to him.

  He stood as I approached and had me sit on the wall side of the table next to him. “You look absolutely radiant this evening.”

  I smiled. “So do you.”

  “Ha, ha! Aren’t you the charmer!” I found him rather charming, with all the chivalry of Middle Ages’ knighthood. The waiter eyed me when he came to the table and set a steak in front of the duke, which he began carving. “Darling, I must leave for Britain tomorrow.”

  “What? Why?”

  “My love, that is where I am from. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. I must return from whence I’ve come.” He set down his silverware and brought one hand to lift my chin to look into my eyes. “England is my home.”

  “So,” I said with a cry in my voice, “that’s the end of us?” I knew my tone exaggerated my feelings. Although I certainly found him gallant and I had enjoyed the brief time we had had together, I couldn’t say I was crushed by his leaving.

  “That is why I wanted to speak with you.” He took my hand in both of his, kissed it, then rubbed it against his cheek. “I want you to come to England with me.”

  I was in too much of a state of shock to hide it. “What? But we barely know each other!”

  “Alexandra, I do love you. I know you don’t want to believe me, but I do. Please say you will.”

  “I…I can’t.” I pulled my hand away.

  “Why not?”

  “I have a play to do.”

  “You do have an understudy.”

  “You don’t understand. Acting is everything to me. It’s my life.” I might have sounded overly-dramatic, but I wasn’t acting. “I could never make you happy because I would be an adulteress. I am only faithful to my art – it is my only love.” I thought the speech rather good for being improvised.

  “I see. Then I shall stay here with you so you needn’t leave your one true love.”

  I worried about what he might expect from me if he stayed. “But what about ashes to dust? Returning to your homeland?”

  “My darling, I would give any price for you.”

  “Why?”

  He slammed his palm on the table. “Because I love you, Goddammit!” Everyone in the restaurant turned and looked at us, and he leaned toward me and spoke in a low voice. “Can you get that through that actor’s head of yours? Do you think I go after every woman I meet like this? You are special to me. I refuse to let you go.”

  I found his words both flattering
and disconcerting. “But I would feel guilty if you gave up your home for me.”

  He took my face in his hand. “You are not forcing me to do anything I don’t want to do. That is not within your power.”

  God, help me, I prayed. “You…you just don’t know me well enough. Once you do, you will see you don’t love me. You couldn’t possibly love me now.”

  “Don’t tell me how I feel, Alexandra. I love you, and nothing will change that.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then go. Go back to England. If, in one year, you feel the same, come back for me. Then I will know your love is strong enough to last.”

  He looked mournful. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I have loved and lost, and I’d rather never have loved at all.”

  “He really did hurt you.”

  “He really did.”

  “I shall go. I have caught a beautiful butterfly and would love to have her near me always, but I must love her enough to let her go so she may be happy.”

  He walked out without even kissing me goodbye, leaving behind his twenty-dollar steak. A part of me hoped he would come back in a year, but I refused to let it show.

  ☼

  Rich tapped a knuckle on her open door. Alice hadn’t bothered to close it, too exhausted even to say come in. She lifted her eyes from her book to him without a word.

  “Do you want to go get some lunch?”

  “No, thanks. I brought mine.” She motioned to the remaining half of her sandwich with the book.

  “What’re you reading?”

  “Research…on melodrama.”

  He walked in and sat on the edge of her desk. “I feel like you’re avoiding me. Are you still pissed about the party?”

  “I told you when you called Sunday, I think you were right not to come. I’m not avoiding you. I’m just busy.”

  He held her gaze for a moment, gritting his teeth. “Is it because of Peter?”

  She rolled her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  “People saw you, Alice. They saw you kissing him.”