"An equal-opportunity mess," Georgiana said, smiling despite herself.
"I should think all this would be a rather valuable asset for a great actress. Now then, about the present situation, my dear, I strongly suggest that you call Alice."
Alice was the therapist Dorothy had first sent Georgiana to see when she had lived with them in New York.
"So you think my life is salvageable?" she had asked.
"I think your life is precious, and that you must treat it as such. Call Alice in the morning and call me after you do."
Funny what you remembered, Georgiana thought, taking a deep breath of the cool, fresh air. Funny how Elizabeth Robinson, in her own way, seemed to be emotionally banged up, too. Maybe that was Dorothy's hobby, taking in lost young women who happened to have everything and yet nothing.
Georgiana closed her eyes. Exhaled. Reopened her eyes. She lounged on the grass for a while, taking in the garden. Breathing. Waiting for the answer to come to her about what the right thing to do was.
Finally she got up, went into the house, called Creighton Berns, and told him she didn't feel comfortable doing the press conference. If he would like, though, she would issue a separate statement to the press.
Creighton said, "Okay, Georgiana, have it your way," and hung up on her.
"Davey, what's the matter with you?" Susie asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.
He was sitting at the kitchen table, staring out across the backyard, the telephone in front of him. He looked up at this beautiful young actress who claimed to be in love with him. And maybe she was. At the very least, she was probably in love with the idea of living with a wealthy movie producer. The alternative for her was not particularly cheerful: trying to keep the battered Ford Escort running, slinging hash at some dreadful all-night place in Hollywood, another year of sharing a tiny apartment with three other aspiring actresses, no contact with anyone in the business.
How old was Susie, anyway? Twenty-three? Eighteen years younger than himself. Ten years younger than Elizabeth. And she carried so much less baggage than Elizabeth! No years and years of accumulated hurts and fears. It was simply easier to be with someone younger. They expected so much less. With Elizabeth the demands had always been difficult and lasting: marriage, children, forever. Who needed it?
What had attracted him to Elizabeth in the first place was no mystery. Her very bone structure had turned him on. The way she carried herself, the way she spoke, the way she looked, but most of all, the way she reacted when he seduced her, breaking free of her self-imposed prison. She was the kind of woman who lived so much in her head, she had difficulty connecting to her body. When he could get her to focus on her physical self, it was an event hard to surpass. She was intense, passionate, euphoric.
Thrilling. God, how thrilling Elizabeth had become in bed. But all that infernal intellectual chatter one had to put up with in order to get her to bed.
Sometimes Elizabeth used to get so caught up in what she was saying that David couldn't believe he was listening to a woman living any earlier than, say, a hundred years ago. And sometimes, when they were having dinner, he'd ask her if they couldn't talk about something that was happening now, in this century. His remarks would invariably trigger a passionate protest. If only David would listen and grasp the key to the era she was exploring, if only he could envision the times, the psychology of the people, if only David would let the past relive itself so he could fully understand!
It still gave him a headache just to think about it. He used to come in after working twelve hours straight, daydreaming on the way home about how much fun it was going to be to seduce the otherwise controlled and impeccable professor, how Elizabeth looked when he touched her breasts in a certain way, how undone she got, how crazy he got. Then he would find Elizabeth frantically running around the house organizing her notes for a lecture, going a hundred miles an hour, telling him about Captain Cooke or Irish illuminated manuscripts or the War of the Roses or some screwball thing. At times like that he could not shut her up. Or, if he did, she would be so stunned that she would shut down, silently pack up her notes, and take off in her car for parts unknown.
By the time she returned, of course, he almost always felt guilty. If you loved someone you did not try to change their essential nature. That's what he believed. But, to be truthful, he always knew that if he offended Elizabeth enough to make her disappear for a while, by the time she got back she would have worked that manic intellectual energy out of her system. She would return annoyed but docile, and in that mood she tended to want to snuggle, which in turn usually led to a terrific bout of lovemaking.
But the Elizabeth David had known and loved and lived with and nearly married had changed. Changed a lot. She didn't chatter anymore. Nor did she fidget, touching things as if tactile contact were the only thing rooting her to the present. She seemed so much older now, tired. Like she was retired.
No doubt about it, Elizabeth was definitely calmer now. But the sexual Elizabeth he had known seemed very distant. He had to wonder how hard it would be to awaken that in her again. Or if he could.
He loved her still. No doubt about that. And he still wanted her. Probably worse than ever. She was a class act, through and through—a woman who was extraordinarily attractive and a goddamn genius to boot. Her genes, in combination with David's, would produce kids that would blow all others off the map.
The idea of getting Elizabeth back both excited and scared David. He looked at Susie and felt guilty and sad. Someone was going to get hurt.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked.
"Berns wants me to appear at a press conference at ICA this afternoon," he said, avoiding her eyes.
"What for?"
"To vouch for the fact that he's trying to work out the situation with Hillings & Hillings, I guess."
"And is he?"
He looked at her. Her eyes were enormous, clear, and beautiful. Trusting. So young. "I guess so, if he's having a press conference to say so."
"So what's the problem?" she asked him.
"The problem is," he sighed, taking her hand, "I get the distinct feeling that he's going to pull the plug on the movie if I don't do it—which makes me think there is a reason why I shouldn't do it."
"But isn't this what you wanted? Didn't you tell me the meeting in New York was to bring ICA to the negotiating table?"
He studied Susie's face. The movie would be a big break for her. For him it would be the next step, but for her, it was the opportunity of a lifetime.
If he was going to end up breaking her heart, she should at least get a shot at a starring role. He called Creighton Berns and told him he'd be at the press conference.
36
The aftermath of the Fifty-seventh Street demonstration dogged Monty and Elizabeth into the evening. The media evidently no longer cared about what had drawn them to the protest in the first place. Now they only cared about the King of Right-Wing Radio and the Katharine Hepburn of Academe having a public screaming match with a vice-president of the most powerful talent agency in the world.
When the two finally got back to the Hillingses' apartment, the phones were ringing off the hook. They each received calls from their book publishers, who were actually rather enthusiastic about all the publicity their authors were getting, despite difficulties they might have with ICA down the road. The bad calls were more prevalent: the president of Monty’s radio network voiced deep concern over his behavior; Monty's TV producer was expressing rage, grief, and promises of suicide, screaming that ICA was pulling the plug on the show; and the BBC wanted to know what the devil was happening over there in the States, because they were getting all kinds of pressure to dismiss Elizabeth from the series. There was even a message from Elizabeth's department chair at Balliol!
After Patty got off work, she came back to the apartment and snuck in through the service entrance to avoid the press people Elizabeth had warned her about. When she arrived upstairs, she fou
nd Monty bellowing over the phone at his lawyer, and Elizabeth pacing the living room, very near tears over the idea that even Oxford could be pressured to dismiss her.
Unfortunately, what Patty had to tell them only darkened their spirits further: CIA had already started gunning for them long before they knew about Monty and Elizabeth's participation in the demonstration.
"Which means?" Elizabeth said, looking to Monty.
"Which means this is war, goddamn it!" Monty thundered.
"No, Monty," Elizabeth said, "what I meant is, why didn't they go after us last week when we served the court order?"
"Hell if I know," Monty sighed, tired and discouraged.
"Maybe at first they thought the court order was an isolated incident," Elizabeth said. "Something you and I did on the spur of the moment."
"What difference would that make?" Patty asked her.
"Well, it would mean that the way they viewed us last week and the way they viewed us this morning are significantly different for some reason," Elizabeth said, feeling slightly ill.
The three looked at one another uncomfortably.
Monty cleared his voice. "Clearly, then, someone must have told ICA that you and I are spearheading the opposition."
"But who would tell them about you?" Patty asked.
The phone rang and it was Josh, who wanted them to turn on CNN, quick. "When they did, there was Creighton Berns standing at a podium loaded with microphones on the terrace of the ICA building in Los Angeles. He gave a short statement, saying there had been some confusion over the transition on the Hillings & Hillings acquisition, but that the authors formerly represented by that agency had acted on their own, distorting the real situation and creating a media circus. ICA would reevaluate the situation, Berns said, just as soon as the Hillingses—who were getting on in years and were not in very good health—emerged from their isolation. Berns then introduced three Hillings & Hillings clients and stepped aside.
Elizabeth gasped and Patty murmured, ""What are they doing?" as David Aussenhoff and Jordan and Louise Wells filled the screen.
David introduced himself, explained his past affiliation with the Hillingses, his current affiliation with ICA, and told the press that he was confident a solution was being worked out that would be satisfactory to all.
""What solution?" Monty yelled. "ICA hasn't contacted Henry in over a month!"
"Be quiet," Elizabeth said.
David turned the microphone over to Louise, who stepped right up and said, "Jordan and I were in New York recently to check on this situation. Henry and Dorothy Hillings are good friends and we were very upset by what was going on. Now that we're back in Los Angeles, Mr. Berns has been kind enough to explain the situation to us and to promise that the merger will be restructured to everyone's satisfaction." She paused and then smiled. "So if you don't see our TV special 'Adam Falls' on the air later this year, you'll know that we've had a severe falling out with Mr. Berns over this matter."
"Good!" Monty said. "She's got Berns now. He can't touch them."
"Ms. Wells?" a reporter asked. "Are you saying that in exchange for appearing today at this press conference, ICA is packaging a television special for you?"
"Of course not," Louise said. "This special has been in the works for far longer than Mr. Berns has been CEO, and so, if something happens to it, you'll know that he didn't keep his word."
Creighton Berns was seen in the background with a smile frozen on his face, looking for the world as though he wished he had strangled Louise Wells instead of asking her to speak.
"Ooo, she's good!" Patty said enthusiastically. "Very smooth."
"Yeah," Monty said. "Unlike—" He stopped himself.
"No, David didn't come off very well," Elizabeth said quietly. "I'm afraid he's not very good at public speaking."
Patty and Monty looked at each other.
The in-house phone rang. It was the super calling to say that Ted Kleczak was downstairs at the delivery entrance and he was sending him up. Patty went to the front door to greet him, asking quickly if he could have said anything to the press that could blow her cover at ICA.
"What has gotten into you, Patty?" they heard her husband cry. "And what's that on your head, a wig? And what is all this makeup!" Patty evidently lost her temper, because she started shouting about being a live-in baby-sitter, housekeeper, and chauffeur, and then the phone started ringing again and Monty and Elizabeth were forced to turn their attention to other dramas.
David could hardly believe how badly he had come off at the press conference. He replayed the tape in his study and groaned aloud. He had agreed to go on, and he had been used beautifully as Berns's character witness. Had he been in his right mind? In contrast, Louise Wells had come off brilliantly, clearly on the side of the Hillingses, openly telling the world that if Berns took out his revenge on her, they would all know why.
He heard the battered Ford Escort pull into the driveway and he looked out the window.
"Davey, hi, I'm home!" Susie called, dropping grocery bags on the floor as she came in. After a few minutes her head appeared in the doorway.
"Hi," he said, frowning, hoping she would leave him alone.
Susie glanced at the TV set and video player, and came over to sit on the arm of his chair. "You shouldn't keep watching it, hon. It's over with. Forget about it."
"Forget about it," David repeated, thinking he'd be crying right now, if he were a woman.
"Isn't Creighton pleased?" she asked.
"Creighton's very pleased."
"Then what's wrong?"
He let out an anguished sigh. "I looked like one of his flunkies." He could almost hear her thoughts: Well, you do work for him, don't you, honey bunny? Yeah, but since when did a producer work for an agent? What the hell had happened over the last twenty years, anyway? He was the producer, he was the one who was supposed to have power. Instead, he was a well-paid forty-one-year-old whose only purpose in life was to make shit movies and disgrace himself in front of his friends.
In front of Elizabeth.
Oh, what did he care anymore? Why should he care?
Susie cleared her throat and David noticed her breasts. They were a nice distraction. There were many things he did with Susie he had not done with Elizabeth, but what was the point of being with Susie if he could not do what he wanted, when he wanted?
"Did you want to make love?" she asked him.
Susie was a very smart girl in many ways.
"Not really," he murmured, pressing his face into her chest.
"Did you want me to do you?" she whispered, rubbing his back.
"Not really," he murmured.
"What do you want, honey bunny?" she asked, pushing him back in his chair and taking off her tank top. She took his face in her hands and brought it up to her full, silky breasts. "I think I know what you want," she whispered.
It was not long before he had her spread-eagle across the desk.
"The point is," Georgiana said into her Bel Air telephone, "I refused to do the press conference and now my press agent tells me he can't work for me anymore."
"You think you've got problems," Monty said, "the TV show I've been working on for two years has gone to never-never land. Goddamn that son of a bitch! When I get on the air tomorrow—"
"You'll not say a word until we find out what they're after," Elizabeth interrupted, taking the phone out of his hand. "Georgiana?"
"I was just telling Monty that my press agent told me he can't work for me anymore because Creighton's angry with me for not agreeing to appear at his press conference."
"So he asked you, too," Elizabeth murmured. "David did it and so did Jordan and Louise."
"I know," Georgiana said. "I'm afraid David and I had a bit of a row over whether or not he should sabotage his career for the Hillingses. "
Elizabeth sighed. "I think we're all beginning to wonder about that. The BBC's being pressured to drop me from the series."
"Already?" Georgi
ana was amazed Creighton could move so fast.
"Yes," Elizabeth sighed, lowering her voice. "And Patty's in the guest room, sobbing her heart out because her husband came here and read her the riot act."
"Why?"
"Probably because she has three children at home, for starters," Elizabeth said.
"Yes, that would do it," Georgiana said. "But maybe that's why participating in this has become so important to her. You know, to have something of her own, a little adventure."
"Perhaps," Elizabeth said. "In the meantime, I'm afraid Monty and I are only helping to make things worse. Tonight when she insisted on finishing out the week at ICA, we didn't argue. We need her help. Meanwhile, tomorrow Monty and I start looking through all the Hillings & Hillings files that are in storage."
"I'll come back to New York to help, if you want. I'm not doing much of anything here."
"You don't have to, Georgiana," Elizabeth said. "If we need your help, we'll let you know."
"We need your help, Georgiana!" Monty shouted over Elizabeth's shoulder.
"Monty, stop it," she said, pushing him away.
"Seriously, Elizabeth, why don't I come back? There are some things I'd like to do in New York anyway."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Elizabeth asked.
"Oh, why not?" Georgiana said. "Creighton's already stolen my press agent, what else is he going to do?"
Elizabeth knocked on the guest room door and opened it when she heard Patty say to come in.
The light from the hall fell across the gracious mahogany furniture. Patty sat up in bed. "I'm not asleep."
"I wanted to see how you are."
"I'm fine," she said, patting the bed. "Come, sit for a few minutes."
Elizabeth walked across the room and perched on the bed.
"I feel guilty as sin," Patty said, "and at the same time completely wonderful."
"Well, I feel guilty," Elizabeth said. "We shouldn't be asking you to do this."
Any Given Moment (The Alexandra Chronicles Book 3) Page 22
