Someday Soon

by Janelle Taylor

  “But Nanette is Tyler’s real mother.”

  Cammie nodded. “Maybe if he’d kept acting she’d be more in the spotlight today. Probably not, though, because she never cared for all the hoopla. And anytime Samuel tried to impress her with who he knew and all that, she just looked exceedingly bored. I do remember that!” Cammie added on a half-laugh. “My mother loved Nanette. She truly did. I think Nanette pitied my mother for making the same mistake she did.” She shrugged. “It’s kind of hard to tell after all this time.”

  “And Sam Stovall never appreciated either of them,” Susannah said in her pithy way.

  “Amen.” Cammie cocked her head. “You know what’s weird? I married a man a lot like Sam!”

  “You made a mistake. Honey, it’s all right.” Susannah patted her knee. “But it’s over now, and you can still benefit from it.”

  “You just don’t quit, do you?” Cammie protested with affection.

  “Never. Tell me more.”

  “Well, Ty was a great big brother. I cared a lot about him.”

  “You loved him,” Susannah said, watching Cammie closely.

  “Well, yes. As a brother.”

  “Uh huh.”

  Cammie was fairly certain she resented Susannah’s carefully neutral tone. Her friend was humoring her a little, but trying not to show it. “But when I walked in on Sam and his lover, I flipped out. And it seemed like Ty took his dad’s side. Maybe he didn’t, I don’t know. But it felt that way at the time, and I got really upset. I yelled at both of them. Sam tried to act like it was no big deal. Infidelity should be accepted and understood, et cetera, et cetera—given his position and all.”

  Susannah made a choking sound.

  “Exactly,” Cammie agreed, heartened by this bit of understanding. “Anyway, Ty and I had a falling out at that time and never spoke again.”

  “Never?”

  Since this was a blatant lie, Cammie couldn’t help hesitating. But she couldn’t tell Susannah the truth, either. “Our brother and sister relationship was over after that,” she compromised. “Completely over. In any case, it’s not likely he’d want to see me now. I’m about the last person on earth. And I could never ask him for a favor.”

  “You’re not asking for a favor. You’re giving him one!”

  “He won’t see it that way.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just know.”

  “No, you don’t.” Susannah examined her half-filled drink. “Tyler Stovall’s been gone a long time. What’s the harm in looking him up?”

  You have no idea! Cammie thought.

  “I’m certainly no expert, but it sounds to me like you’ve got a lot of unresolved issues to deal with concerning him and his father.”

  “It was a long time ago,” Cammie disagreed. She didn’t want to hear this. She didn’t want Susannah touching her innermost nerves where Ty was concerned. It was a tender spot. A weakness she instinctively knew was dangerous to her.

  “It’s not just the screenplay, is it? It’s something else.”

  “I just told you, we had a falling out.”

  Susannah wrinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes at her friend. She was ten years Cammie’s senior, single by choice, and full of wisdom about Hollywood specifically and life as a whole. Sometimes her ability to read Cammie was quite disconcerting, to say the least. Cammie didn’t need for Susannah to become all wise and knowing right now, especially when it came to Ty.

  “You’re afraid to see him again,” she said now, arching one brow, daring Cammie to deny it.

  “No! Yes! I don’t want to see him.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just told you!”

  Susannah swore in very unladylike fashion, then grinned as if she knew some inner joke that only she could truly appreciate. “All right, have it your way. However, I’m not giving up on this. But for now, I’ve got to get going. Time’s a-passing. I’ve got to find something to wear.” She eyed with approval the diaphanous rose gown Cammie had donned. “You look fabulous, my dear. I’m going to have a tough time upstaging you.”

  “Oh, sure.” Cammie eyed her friend with affection. “You’re so—you.”

  Susannah laughed. “Your problem is that you’re fighting your way through something that happened between you and Tyler Stovall years ago. Give that up and everything else will fall into place. You’ll see what I mean.”

  “Don’t count on it.”

  Now, however, as she reluctantly took her ex’s arm, she called herself all sorts of names, “hypocrite” being at the top of her list. She’d made the mistake of listening to Susannah and now things seemed almost possible.

  The trouble was: the lead role in Rock Bottom, Joe Marks, was Tyler Stovall in spades. He was meant to play that part, and she wouldn’t be surprised if the screenwriter had used him as his role model when he’d dreamed up the central character. Tyler needed to play the part of Joe Marks, and now that the vision was in her head, Cammie couldn’t see anyone else in the lead. She felt sick and excited and overwhelmed all at once. Someone needed to find Tyler and show him the script.

  If you don’t do it, someone else will.

  Paul’s words of yesterday still rang true. Cammie hated the position she was in, yet a part of her felt revved up and ready. Charged. Poised on the brink.

  It was a downright dangerous way to feel.

  “Look at this tile work,” Paul muttered. Circles of blushing pink Mexican tile complemented fountains and lush groupings of flowers, red bougainvillea, and vanilla oleander prime among the bunches. Birds of paradise stuck straight up as if they were on alert, and jade trees and palms kept a vigil along with them.

  Paul rang the bell. Cammie’s hand slipped away, but he grabbed it back again, tucking it inside the crook of his arm and holding her fingers tight with his other hand. She knew, then, that whatever he’d said, he needed her more than he was admitting. Was it because she’d been related to Ty? Probably. It killed her to think how she was letting herself be used.

  A maid in a black uniform opened the door and music and loud voices drifted from the back of the sprawling stucco ranch. Cammie’s heart leapt to her throat, beating wildly as she recognized Hollywood luminaries on every front. She was awestruck. No wonder Susannah had said she was going to the party come hell or high water.

  If this is the Connellys’ idea of a little gathering at their house, I’m in way over my head.

  Swallowing, she managed to keep one foot traveling in front of the other. Sam and Claire had never hosted these kind of events, but then Cammie had always suspected that Sam was outrageously cheap. Either that, or he simply couldn’t be bothered. He liked others waiting on him. He wanted to be wined and dined, not the other way around.

  Lord, she was being uncharitable. With an effort she forgot her feelings for her ex-stepdad and concentrated instead upon the incredible crowd and the lavish, linen-swathed tables of catered food and ice sculptures.

  Even Paul, still hovering beside her, was struck speechless. And when Nora Connelly herself walked over to join them, hands outstretched for a double handshake with Cammie, a squeak of fear squeezed out of Paul’s throat. Cammie just gazed at her host, calling on her acting skills to get her through this odd and exciting moment.

  “Cammie, isn’t it?” Nora asked. She smiled, and suddenly she seemed more human, as if she wasn’t one of the most sought-after producers of the last few years. She wore a plain black sheath and her hair swung straight and dark brown to her chin. More businesslike than elegant, she radiated confidence and power, and Cammie envied her apparent strength and success.

  “Yes.”

  “Paul told us about you. He was rather insistent.” Nora threw him a sideways glance.

  “I—I—know Cammie’s the best.” Paul’s voice was unnaturally high.

  “He said you were a fine actress.” Nora was gracious.

  Cammie swallowed. “He said I was Tyler Stovall’s stepsister.”

  Nora’
s brows lifted in surprise at her candor. “That, too,” she admitted.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Cammie began to disabuse her, but Paul broke in quickly.

  “This is perfect! Just perfect! It’s like a story in itself. She can go find him and bring him back.”

  “And it will be next year’s true life drama,” Nora agreed with a certain amount of irony. At that moment James Connelly detached himself from a blond woman and joined his dark-haired wife. With silvery, wavy hair and wire-rimmed glasses, he looked more like an art critic than a successful producer. He introduced himself to Cammie and tried, unsuccessfully, to politely ignore Paul. It became very clear to Cammie that Paul was not as tight with the Connellys as he would have her believe. He’d brought them an idea—a package, really, which included Ty’s ex-stepsister—and they’d been intrigued enough to give him the green light.

  Cammie picked up all the vibes in an instant. She was thinking of how to get past this polite chitchat with both James and Nora and tell them the truth about her feelings, when Susannah rushed up, her usually wild hair clipped back in a severe bun that, coupled with her flowing skirt and hoop earrings, made her look a little like a gypsy. “Hello, hello,” she breathed in an excited rush to the Connellys. Her fingers gripped Cammie’s arm so tightly it hurt.

  “The upstaging’s going just fine,” Cammie said in an undertone, grinning. When Susannah didn’t immediately respond, Cammie shot her a confused look. Susannah’s gaze was focused past their hosts to the other side of the tiled atrium. Her breath caught and her grip tightened. Cammie followed her gaze and her own eyes widened as she locked on to the object of Susannah’s distress.

  “Oh, my God!” she whispered. Her gut felt knocked to the wall. Samuel Stovall, in all his splendor, stood with his arm around Felicia, his latest wife. He was blathering away about something, nearly obscured from Cammie’s line of vision by an ice sculpture of Zeus.

  She shrank backward automatically. She’d spent all these years within the same industry and had never actually crossed his path. It hadn’t been a problem. His stature in this community was many rungs above her own. It had taken Rock Bottom, an A-List property, and her connection to Sam himself, to throw them together.

  But then, why was she here? Why had she been approached for this mission if Ty’s own father were available? It didn’t make any sense.

  Whatever the case, there was one unshakable fact: She wanted nothing to do with Samuel Stovall.

  As if feeling her thoughts, Sam glanced around at that very moment, his eyes meeting Cammie’s the millisecond before she could look away. Throat dry, she turned as if to run, but Susannah was there, still hanging on to her for dear life.

  “Susannah,” Cammie muttered beneath her breath.

  “I know. It gets worse,” she whispered back.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He wants to talk to you about—about—” She laughed a bit hysterically. “Finding Ty!”

  “What?”

  “Apparently he’s been trying to contact Tyler for years. He’s never succeeded. He wants you to try.”

  “I don’t believe this!”

  “Believe it,” Susannah murmured, sucking in another breath.

  To Cammie’s dismay, Samuel Stovall unpeeled his wife’s clinging hands and strode across the room toward where Cammie, Paul, Susannah and the Connellys had formed a small grouping. Instantly Cammie was struck by the way he moved, so like his son. Enormous, ground-devouring strides brought him nearer, making him seem bigger than life even without all the folderol that came as a part of his many film successes.

  And he looked like Ty. An older, more urbane version with hair silvered at the temples and eyes Ty’s same gray color, but colder, far, far colder.

  Seeing him again filled her with longing for Ty. It came out of left field, this deep, treacherous ache. No matter how many years passed, how many suns set and lives changed, Cammie yearned to be with Ty again in a purely feminine way. She seemed to have no control over it, and Sam brought all those feelings to the surface, making Cammie resent him all the more.

  “Long time no see,” Sam said, reaching out to hug Cammie even while she stiffened into a board. Whether he noticed, she couldn’t say. It was automatic on her part. “I understand you’ve been chosen for the role of Vanessa, so to speak.”

  “I know I’m being considered for it,” she said, trying to be noncommittal.

  “It’s a little more than that,” Paul expelled eagerly. “Cammie’s everyone’s first choice.”

  Samuel gazed at him as if he were a noxious worm. “And you are her agent?”

  “I’m her agent,” Susannah pointed out. She reached for a third glass of champagne as the waiter cruised by, her hand shaking a bit. No one seemed to be feeling secure.

  “I’m her husband,” Paul said. At Cammie’s inadvertent gasp of protest, he amended, “Her ex-husband. But we work together.”

  “Mmmm…” Sam had lost interest.

  Cammie, for her part, just wanted to be out of this situation once and for all. But Nora and James were enthusiastic about the project, and as soon as Samuel showed some interest, they were all over the topic. Cammie couldn’t slip away, and in truth, their perspective on the story was worth its weight in gold—if she were ever going to screentest, that is, which she was fairly certain she had no interest in.

  Or, did she?

  Ten minutes later, she murmured an excuse and hurried off to find a ladies’ room. She discovered a private one through a bedroom that afforded her some much needed space.

  Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she almost laughed hysterically at the apprehension in her aqua eyes. Her hair was a riot, too. Naturally curly, her shoulderlength tresses were particularly untamed this evening, the small globe lights surrounding the mirror picking up streaks of fiery red in her dark auburn locks. She felt as wild as she looked. She wanted to just go home and cry.

  Oh, Ty, what am I going to do? I want to see you so badly again. Where are you? Are you happy? I’d give anything to relive the past and be together with you again.

  I’m afraid I still love you. I’m afraid I always will.

  Ty, what, what, what, am I going to do?

  Reading over his last words, Ty snorted in disgust. Hitting the exit program icon, the computer screen automatically asked, “Save changes to document?” to which he emphatically pressed his finger on the “No” button.

  Rising from his chair, he headed downstairs from his loft to gaze at the water outside his back windows. Why did he persist in writing this screenplay when he knew he would never even attempt to turn it into a film?

  Catharsis, he thought. His past life felt very close tonight. Gazing through the window at the twinkling stars in a deep velvet sky, he recognized his vague melancholia as being related to his work on the screenplay.

  Strange feelings were possessing him. Thoughts that hadn’t entered his head during all these past ten years. Struggling to define his emotional state, he finally settled on one word: longing. He was consumed with longing for something he couldn’t name.

  Surprised, Ty snorted again, disdaining his foolishness. Shrugging off the feeling with an effort, he trudged back up the stairs to his computer and the work that filled his idle hours.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “…I feel totally crazy. This isn’t going to work. Call it desperation, but I know I’m heading for serious trouble.” Cammie hesitated, watching the stretch of freeway ahead of her disappear beneath her tires. She held her cell phone in her right hand. She hadn’t expected Susannah to be in the office on a Saturday. Still, she’d felt compelled to express her feelings on her agent’s answering machine. “I don’t know what I’m going to say to her when, and if, I see her. If you happen to come back anytime soon and find you’re brimming over with advice, call my cell. I’ll be on the road a while longer. Nanette doesn’t live just around the corner.”

  Cammie hung up, frowning a bit at the task she’d laid out
for herself. Samuel Stovall might not know where his son was, but Nanette probably did. She was, after all, Ty’s real mother, and though Ty and Samuel had suffered some kind of falling out, Cammie believed Nanette’s relationship with her son was still intact. At least she hadn’t heard word to the contrary.

  Lost in thought, she jumped when her cellular phone trilled on the console beside her. “Susannah?” she demanded into the receiver before the caller could respond.

  “You got it, hon. How ya doin’?”

  Cammie swallowed at the unexpected tenderness in Susannah’s tone. She’d managed to relate her medical problems to her friend a few days after the Connellys’ party. Typically, Susannah had reached out her arms and hugged her like a mother bear and Cammie had fought back sudden, stinging tears at this measure of her friend’s empathy.

  “You might get a baby yet, y’know,” she’d soothed. “Don’t worry.”

  Cammie had quickly changed the subject, unable to talk about that any more than she was about her relationship with Tyler. Now, she said to her agent and friend, “Do you really think this is a good idea? I feel kind of like a marionette, like I’m letting someone pull my strings.”

  “Someone like Samuel Stovall?”

  “And Paul,” Cammie agreed.

  “Do this for yourself, Cammie. You deserve it.”

  Cammie wrinkled her nose. “For better or worse, I’m on my way. I guess there’s nothing to do now but wait and see what Nanette has to say…”

  The cream-colored, dirt-smudged sedan threaded itself behind the blue BMW as smooth as oil. The man at the wheel counted on his current client to be so immersed in herself that she wouldn’t notice. Anyway, she was pretty busy yakking away on the cellular, an important extension of the arm in this damn city. He didn’t expect her to look in her rearview anytime this century. Most people didn’t.