Any Given Moment (The Alexandra Chronicles Book 3)

by Laura Van Wormer

  "You can deny it all you want, Ted Kleczak," she said, "but for eighteen years you've had me exactly where you want me, and you can't tell me you're not furious to know that I can have a life apart from you and make new friends who like me—just me! Without kids! Without a husband! Without neighborhood gossip. They just like me!"

  "You're partly right," he admitted after a moment. "I am angry that you can have a life apart from me."

  She looked up, surprised.

  "And I'm scared, Patty," he murmured, looking at his hands. "You're changing so fast, and I don't know how you can see and do all this stuff and still stay happy being with me."

  She was astonished.

  "These people are rich and famous and really smart." He glanced up. "I've heard Montgomery Grant Smith on the radio. He slept at the White House once, you know, when President Bush was in office."

  She smiled. "He's not really that smart, Ted. Bright and fast and clever, but not really so smart."

  "That's not the point, Patty," he said. "The point is, I'm a gym teacher—"

  "You're a high school coach and teacher making fifty-seven thousand dollars a year," she said. "We own a house, we have three gorgeous perfect children, and you're the sexiest man alive. What more could I want?" She pointed to the door. "These people don't have anything that we have, Ted. Don't you understand that? While we were putting everything into building a marriage and a family, they were putting everything into their careers. So yes, they're rich, they're famous—but they don't have anything else. I'm not even forty yet, Ted—we're young! Our kids are almost ready to leave home for college. Without the money from the novel, we'd manage to get them through school, you know we would. But when they leave home, what happens to me? What role do I have? I have to have something, and my writing is it. It led me to all these people, Ted. Mrs. Hillings gave me the opportunity of a lifetime, and then I was offered the chance to help her—a woman who has spent her entire life doing for others. And so I jumped at it. The fact that it imperiled my writing career made it all that much more exciting."

  "Imperiled," Ted repeated. "Patty, listen to you. You don't even talk the same anymore."

  "Oh, that's just from hanging around Elizabeth. Honey, listen," she said, getting up and moving over to sit on his lap, "we're young. We can't stop changing now. We've got decades and decades to go, yet."

  "But what am I supposed to do?" he asked her.

  "Love and adore me," she giggled, kissing him. "But most of all, just be yourself."

  "Well, that first part's not hard," he said into her neck. "I do love and adore you."

  "And you still make me crazy after all these years," she an­swered.

  "Like the song?" he asked.

  "Like the sex," she whispered, sliding her hand down between his legs.

  His head jerked up. "Here? With all those people walking around out there?"

  "Absolutely," she whispered, kissing him.

  Patty slid off his lap, took his face in her hands, and kissed him. "Just a word of warning: I'm going to lock the door, and then I'm coming back to get you."

  "Patty, this is crazy!" her husband whispered hoarsely. That was a good sign, the hoarse voice. For a man who spent most of his time bellowing across gymnasiums and playing fields, when he was aroused, Ted's voice began to fail him. The more excited he got, the worse it got, and the more excited she got.

  She locked the door and turned around and smiled. He stood up. She walked over to him, reached up to kiss him, and then backed off slightly. And then she sank to her knees. "Let's see what we have in here," she whispered, unfastening his belt, unclasping his pants, and then tugging his zipper down.

  Even after all this time, whenever she found her husband this excited, something major inside of her gave way.

  There was more conversation in the hallway outside their door.

  "Patty, for God's sake!" Ted whispered. "I can hear every­body—" He sucked in his breath and threw back his head, help­lessly touching Patty's hair as she went ahead and did what she wanted to anyway.

  Patty felt him tense up and not dare to move, desperately want­ing to tell her they shouldn't be doing this with all those people outside, but desperate for her not to stop doing what she was doing.

  His breath caught and he jerked slightly, holding her head more tightly. It had taken a few years to learn how to do this. He couldn't help himself after a certain point. "No, I'm going to go to my room," they heard Georgiana say right outside the door.

  The Kleczaks froze, and Patty couldn't help but visualize the scene Georgiana would find in here: Ted standing in the middle of the room, tie and jacket still on, pants pulled down to his ankles, his wife on her knees in front of him.

  "Come on," Ted said hoarsely, helping her up and pulling her to the bed. But instead of going on the bed, he pulled her down on the floor on the other side of it, and in a minute he was pulling her clothes off and was on top of her, thrusting himself into her, Patty already starting to arch toward him, aching, wanting, moving to the verge. And Ted went all out, hitting utterly home, and she couldn't help but cry out, clutching him, coming in waves, groaning in his ear, and with a little cry, he shuddered up against her, saying through clenched teeth, "Yes, yes, baby," and then he collapsed.

  They lay there, holding on to one another, catching their breath. Patty wrapped her legs around him and squeezed, holding him, reveling in him. In them.

  Things came and went in their marriage, but the passion always returned. The love never left either—it was just sometimes difficult to get in touch with it.

  This wasn't one of those times, obviously. Patty flexed her thighs, delighting again in the feel of him. Being glued to him. Him. Her guy. Ted. The best damn lover in the world.

  52

  Friday night dragged on. Georgiana lay in bed watching TV and feeling anxious, alone, and scared. A little after ten the phone rang and she snatched it up. "Hello?"

  "Hi," Alexandra said.

  She smiled. "Hi. Your newscast was great. I just watched it."

  "Thank you. How are you?"

  "I've been better, but the Hillingses were here tonight. They think they'll have all this cleared up by Sunday."

  "Listen, Georgiana," Alexandra began.

  Uh-oh, Georgiana thought, here it comes. The backing off, the "I made a mistake, I shouldn't have done what I did last night, we pushed ahead too soon, I'm sorry, but I'm not ready for this, Geor­giana—"

  "I was wondering if you would come and stay with me at my apartment."

  In the silence that followed, Alexandra nervously cleared her throat. "Georgiana?"

  "Yes," she said, "yes, of course I want to come." She was crying. And smiling.

  "You've got the number," Georgiana said to Elizabeth an hour later. Her bags had already been taken down to the lobby.

  "Yes," Elizabeth said, smiling, holding open the door.

  "Okay," Georgiana said, "then I guess I best be on my way."

  Elizabeth gave her a hug. "Good luck," she murmured. "Al­though I don't think you'll need it."

  "Thanks," the actress murmured, walking across to the elevator. Elizabeth closed the front door, sighed, and leaned back against it.

  Great. Just like old times. David had some young blond creature waiting for him at home, Georgiana was running off to what sounded like the love of her life, and Patty was snuggled away with her husband in the guest room, having only emerged once all night when pizza and beers was delivered. (The friction burn on Patty's cheeks told Elizabeth everything she needed to know about what they were doing in there.) And here she was, feeling as though something momentous was happening in her life, but not sure at all what it was.

  Besides knowing that she was finally free of David.

  Yes. She knew that for sure, now.

  The only trouble was coming to terms with what she thought she might be feeling for someone else.

  Oh, well, Elizabeth thought, sighing as she started turning out the apartment ligh
ts. Thank heavens Sasha was coming in the morn­ing with a cleaning lady; the apartment needed a thorough cleaning with all the traffic lately. Still, she couldn't resist straightening a few cushions in the living room; afterward she turned off the lights in there, went through the swinging door to the kitchen—and was nearly scared out of her wits.

  "Hi ya," Monty said, in between spoonfuls of cantaloupe.

  "What are you doing here?" she asked him, hand over her heart.

  "I fell asleep in the living room. I just woke up."

  "Oh," she said, dropping her hand. She walked over to the bread drawer and opened it. Inside were those ghastly sweet cookies Monty liked, Yes—Yeses. She pulled them out, got the skim milk, a glass, a napkin, and sat down at the table opposite Monty.

  "You never eat that junk," he said.

  "Tonight I do," she told him, opening the box.

  He watched her for a while, spoon still in hand. Then he cleared his throat and resumed eating his melon. "I've given that stuff up," he said.

  Elizabeth laughed, spraying crumbs out of her mouth before she could cover it with a napkin.

  "Oh, to hell with you, Elizabeth," he said, putting his spoon down on the plate with a clang. "I hate you thin people. You don't have to do anything special to look the way you do."

  "Don't be an ass," she said, "of course I do. I watch what I eat, I swim every other day and try to stay away from sugar."

  "Tell me about it," he grumbled. "But without sugar, I'm afraid my whole radio empire's going straight to hell."

  They continued eating for a while.

  "Georgiana's gone to stay with a friend," Elizabeth said.

  "What friend?" he asked, sounding suspicious, but not partic­ularly jealous.

  "I don't know," Elizabeth lied.

  "Did Patty go back to New Jersey?"

  "No," she reported. "The lovebirds are in the guest room."

  Monty looked at her.

  "She emerged once to get a pizza delivery," she said, smiling. "Definitely lovebirds."

  "Good for them," he said, meaning it.

  "Anyway," Elizabeth said, standing up and clearing her things from the table, "if you help me change the sheets, you're welcome to stay over in the Hillingses' room."

  He looked surprised. "I am pretty beat."

  "I know," she said, closing the refrigerator door. "And to be honest, it would make me feel better to know that someone else was sleeping here tonight."

  He got up to carry his plate to the sink. "Someone else sleeping alone, you mean."

  She nodded. "Something like that."

  "Glad to know I'm not the only one who feels that way."

  They looked at each other for a moment.

  "I'd love to stay," he said.

  53

  Georgiana was sitting on the windowsill in Alexandra's bedroom on Saturday morning, her back to the view of Central Park.

  "I'm sorry I can't go with you," Alexandra said softly.

  "It would be a mistake," Georgiana sighed, standing up. "I just don't understand why Elizabeth is coming with me."

  "Neither of us want you to be alone, darling," Alexandra said, coming over to her.

  "Where did you find these people again?" Georgiana asked, referring to the public relations team Alexandra had arranged for her to meet that morning.

  "Between palimony suits and Larry Kramer making it his busi­ness to out famous people regardless of the consequences, a whole industry has sprung up," Alexandra said. "I've kept track of it." She smiled. "I guess in case I ever met you." She kissed Georgiana lightly on the mouth.

  Georgiana sighed. "This woman Creighton's gotten a hold of is a major coke head and, I hear, desperate for money." She closed her eyes, as if the person she was thinking of could simply vanish from the face of the earth by her doing so.

  "Is there anything else the press can use on you?" Alexandra asked. "For instance, were there drugs involved in your relationship with this woman?"

  Georgiana stiffened and her eyes flew open. "With my mother's history? Do you think I would do drugs or intentionally get in­volved with anyone who did? My God, Alexandra, I can't even get near a possible alcoholic without wanting to run. Why do you think I've been mostly alone for so long? Because nobody wanted to go out with me?"

  Alexandra was smiling. "No, silly," she said, brushing a strand of hair off Georgiana's face. "Listen, I don't think in this day and age that you'll have to defend yourself for once having a love affair with a woman. What this team is going to want to know is the likelihood of other women making the same kind of claim."

  "Just how promiscuous have I been?" Georgiana said.

  Alexandra nodded.

  "Well, there were several men in my past, but no married ones, thank heavens. And, well, let's see, my first woman lover is happily married now, so she won't say anything. Later I was in a relation­ship with a woman for almost two years, but today she's more famous than I am, so that's okay—" She broke off, noticing Alex­andra's openly curious expression.

  "I'll tell you eventually, but it's not only my story to tell—do you understand?"

  "Of course," Alexandra said.

  "Anyway," Georgiana continued, "this woman Creighton's found was an ICA client once, a screenwriter. I got involved with her on location about two years ago. I thought she was terrific, but not right for me. She reminded me a little too much of my mother, and I think that's when I began to suspect something might be wrong. And so I quickly broke it off."

  "And how did she react?"

  "Not well," Georgiana admitted. "As a matter of fact, the night after I told her, she came banging on my hotel room door at two in the morning, loaded, and then she apparently moved on to coke in a big way, and now she's a mess. And broke. And desperate. Perfect for Creighton."

  "And who has there been since her?" Alexandra asked.

  "No one," Georgiana said. "She frightened me so much I thought it would be better if I were simply alone. It didn't stop at the hotel room that night—I heard from Madeline in Los Angeles, all kinds of crazy stuff. For a while I thought I was going to have to get a court order."

  Alexandra was nodding.

  "Listen, Alexandra," Georgiana said after a moment, "there's something I've got to tell you. I'm ashamed of it, but I've got to tell you." Pause. "Remember the night you flew off to Iraq? The night I came to New York?"

  Alexandra nodded.

  Georgiana closed her eyes, wincing. "I got drunk with Montgomery Grant Smith and had sex with him." Georgiana opened one eye.

  Alexandra's mouth had fallen open.

  "It was all of five minutes," she added, still wincing. "We used a condom."

  After a moment Alexandra closed her mouth, swallowed, and said, "What does this mean?"

  "It means I'm not going to drink anymore!"

  Alexandra slowly lowered her head, shaking it. "Oh, Georgi­ana," she murmured. But when she raised her head, Georgiana could see she was fighting a smile. "Oh, Georgiana, how could you?" And then she burst out laughing.

  "Oh, Ted, why haven't we done this before?" Patty sighed, lying in her husband's arms.

  "Duck out on our responsibilities and tell the kids to go to hell?" he said.

  She propped herself up on one elbow to look at him. Boy, he was gorgeous, this husband of hers. How had she ever been able to hold on to him? And he hadn't a clue how wonderful he was.

  He smiled, absently sliding his hand up to caress one of her breasts. "You are so beautiful," he said.

  "I haven't even worn the wig for you yet," she said.

  He smiled. "I don't know about that, honey."

  "That's what you can call me—Honey. Honey Kleczak." She laughed.

  "Seriously though, Patty," he said, still stroking her breast, "I'm not sure we should leave the kids again today and tonight."

  "Sweetie, I told you, Jill will stay overnight."

  "And what are we going to do?" he asked.

  "Whatever you want to do," she said, kissing him ag
ain.

  What Montgomery Grant Smith had said about the leaked in­formation was going round and round in David's head. Who was Creighton Berns talking to, anyway? Monty had made that crack about Susie making a living on the side....

  No, it was ridiculous. Susie wouldn't do anything like that.

  Not even for an acting career?

  But she loved him!

  Maybe she's a far better actress than you think. It wouldn't be the first time you were taken in. But she doesn't know anyone connected to Creighton!

  She would be easy to get to. If Montgomery Grant Smith knew she lived in his house, certainly Creighton would know how and where to find her.

  David left his hotel room and went out for a walk.

  For the first time, Georgiana felt the full ramifications of what Creighton Berns was trying to do to her. When she and Elizabeth walked into Jessica Wright's apartment to meet the "damage con­trol" team, Georgiana took one look at their faces and knew how bad the next few weeks could be.

  Right away—as if to get the painful part over—Georgiana was handed page proofs of the piece scheduled to run on the front page of the Inquiring Eye and on the cover of a gay magazine. Georgiana glanced at the proofs—there was a picture of herself and Madeline on location in Arizona, and something about "lesbian lover" in the headline. She handed it back.

  "No," the man said firmly. "I'm sorry, Ms. Hamilton-Ayres, but you must read it carefully, word by word, from beginning to end, so we may begin."

  Begin what? Georgiana wondered. To lie and evade and deny, or, worse yet, to somehow be made to feel that what was happening between her and Alexandra was something to be ashamed of?

  "Are you all right?" Elizabeth murmured.

  "I'm fine," Georgiana said vaguely.

  It was a very funny meeting in a way, because, as Georgiana realized after a while, the PR group thought Elizabeth Robinson was her lover. Jessica picked up on it, too, and found it amusing, particularly since Elizabeth didn't get it and kept saying things like, "Why wouldn't it be a good idea for me to be at the press conference with her? Are academics not considered credible people?"