The Role of a Lifetime

by Jennifer Shirk

  No! No way! Breathing heavily, he stood and looked down at his car, not seeing anything but Sandra’s beautiful, crestfallen face. He kicked the rim of the tire with his foot. The shooting pain was well deserved. Leaning both hands on the hood, he took a deep, defeated breath.

  Yes. Yes way. Yes, he did worry about Sandra, and he did care for her, and he did like her, and most of all, he did want her. He wanted her all right—not just for tonight or while he was in town—but all the way. All. The. Way. He was in love with her and he loved her child, too. For the first time in his star-studded life, he was in love—no acting necessary. He closed his eyes, allowing the realization to sink in further, wondering what he should do next and what Sandra’s reaction would be. But in the midst of his mental turmoil, another realization transpired and his shoulders slumped further.

  His agent was going to kill him.

  “There’s a woman with murder in her eyes waiting to see you.”

  Sandra almost dropped her bag of groceries as she walked through the school door. “Huh? Murder? Oh, no. Is she a parent?”

  Carol shook her head.

  Sandra expelled a long breath. Thank goodness for small favors. But still, something she had to deal with nonetheless. Last night’s disaster with Ben hadn’t left her mind in the best condition. She had forgotten about snack this morning—something she never had done—and had to do a quick run to the supermarket. She barely had time to come back down from that problem and now she was smack in the middle of another. She could only hope it would take her mind off Ben.

  “Well, who is the woman?” she asked.

  Carol made a face. “She said she represents Ben.”

  So much for taking her mind off Ben. “His agent is in my office?”

  “Yeah, and boy, is she a peach. You’re going to have your hands full with that one.” Carol took the bunch of bananas from her grocery bag and shrugged. “I’d love to go in there as reinforcement, but I’ve got ten hungry preschoolers looking for snack.”

  Sandra leaned back and lightly banged her head against the wall. “This is terrible. I’m having the worst day,” she mumbled to herself.

  Carol checked her watch. “Your morning’s half over. How much worse could it get?”

  “Since when did you become a glass-is-half-full kind of person? What am I going to say to a Hollywood agent? Isn’t there some kind of lingo I should know first?”

  “Sandra, if there’s one person who can hold her own, it’s you.” Carol held up the bananas. “Besides, we all have our own battles. You’d think these kids never saw food before. Hopefully, I won’t get my hand snapped off.” She spun around and tossed back, “Have fun.”

  “Thanks a lot,” she murmured.

  Sandra placed the bag on the floor and braced herself for a serious mowing-over as she walked into her office. Luckily, she had a moment before the onslaught because Ben’s agent was talking on her cell phone. Sandra closed the door behind her, and the woman, so engrossed in what the other person on the line was saying, didn’t glance up.

  Ben’s agent was a petite sort of woman with a blondish-brown mixture of heavily highlighted hair worn in a sleek, chin-length bob. Her clothes were nice—not Coco Chanel nice—but neat and of good quality. The woman shifted and uncrossed her legs, nodding into the phone. Her head was still bowed and she held a finger in her opposite ear. Sandra wondered if the woman even knew she was standing there, so Sandra tapped her foot. His agent responded by turning her back.

  “That’s right,” the woman barked, making Sandra jump. “He’s worth millions, he won’t settle for less.”

  Sandra’s interest suddenly was caught. Was his agent talking about Ben? Was Ben really worth millions for his acting ability? She walked over and sat at her desk and tried not to look as if she was eavesdropping.

  “Good,” his agent said into the phone. “Look, I gotta go. Sure. Maybe lunch.” She flipped her phone shut and rolled her eyes at Sandra. “Yeah, right. Like I’d be caught dead having lunch with a ham-and-egger like that.”

  Sandra just smiled politely, hoping the woman wasn’t looking for a comment—or the definition of ham-and-egger.

  Without the resemblance of a smile or anything at all heartwarming, the woman stuck out her hand. “I’m Ben Caphaw’s agent, Denise Marsters. You can call me Denise. I was the one who set everything up with you to have him come here.”

  Sandra cleared her throat. “Ah, well, that was my sister who set everything up.”

  “Oh, so you’re…Sandra Moyer, then?”

  “That’s right.”

  Ben’s agent sat back and looked at her as if she was trying to soak that piece of information in. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. Ben’s told me a little bit about you.”

  Her heart shifted rhythm. “He did?”

  “Sure. Ben mentions all his…friends to me. But then again, he makes friends fast. He’s a great guy and one of my favorite clients. He’s practically a so—uh, younger brother to me. But that’s not the reason I’m here. The real reason I came here is to apologize if there were any inconveniences to your business.”

  “Oh, there wasn’t any—”

  “Great. I hoped there wasn’t. I suppose he’ll be missed all the more after today, then.”

  “After today?”

  Denise snapped her fingers. “Oh, right. That’s the other reason I’m here, to tell you he’s done ahead of schedule. His publicist has some things lined up for him, and since he can’t be in two places at once...” She shrugged.

  Sandra’s heart sank, and she felt Ben missing her from her life already. She still wanted so much more time with him. “He’s leaving? Today? But Ben never said a word to me—I mean us. Any of us.”

  “Yeah, well, he doesn’t know. I haven’t had a chance to tell him. But he understands business is business. As I’m sure you understand, being a business owner yourself. Besides, he’s more than ready to move on, in my opinion anyway. He’s going to make a great dad.”

  She swallowed hard. “A great dad?”

  “Sure. You know, the movie role. He’s up for the part of a father of a young four-year-old in need of a heart transplant, mostly due to my hard work, thank you very much. It’s got high-level drama written all over it. And now, because of you and your school, Ben’s gotten some great experience with children for it. Oh, and thanks for the extra time you gave him with your daughter. I know he really appreciates it.”

  Every part of Sandra turned to ice.

  “He wanted experience?” she managed to ask.

  His agent finally cracked a smile. “Honey, why did you think he was here in the first place, because he was going to be doing a remake of the movie Big? Not that he couldn’t do that movie blindfolded, by the way.”

  “I...I just assumed…” What had she assumed? That he would be playing a teacher? A child psychologist? She honestly never gave it a thought. Never asked him. But then again, he never offered that bit of information to her either.

  “Well, now you know. And when you see him accepting his Oscar, you can say you had a small part in it.” Denise abruptly pulled out an envelope from her briefcase. “Here’s an extra little thank you for everything. Don’t worry, you’ll be getting paid for the time he would have normally been here. And if Ben does the movie, we can even give you and your staff tickets to the premiere. How does all that sound?”

  It sounded horrendous, but she wisely kept her mouth shut. Her mind was still trying to sort out what was going on. Had Ben been spending time with them just to get more training? Was his career the only thing he’d been thinking about? She had trusted Ben. She’d come to care for him. Only to have their entire relationship rendered meaningless in an instant. Was all that talk of friendship for real, or was it all an act to him? The answer she came up with made her feel ill.

  Her mind hadn’t registered to take the envelope from Denise’s hand, so Denise laid it on her desk. “Well, you can let me know whatever you decide,” she said. “My card is in th
ere.” She snapped her briefcase together in one swift movement and stood, business concluded. “Thanks again, Sandra. You’ve been a real sweetheart. I have an appointment to get to in the city or I’d stay and chat with Ben, so tell him to turn on his cell phone and I’ll be in touch.”

  Sandra was thankful she could stand up on legs that felt like cooked spaghetti, and shake the woman’s hand. Her chest hurt. And after Denise left the office, she stood there, not knowing whether to scream or hide or march up to him and just have it out.

  How could he? How could he use her, use her daughter? Her hand shook as she pressed it against her forehead, but she was determined to stay in control. Anger suddenly simmered instead. But it was a welcomed emotion—less chance of tears that way. That was a good thing, because after all this, she wasn’t about to shed one drop over a phony like him.

  A light knock only slightly pulled her from her whirlwind of emotions. She had no idea how much time had gone by while she’d wrestled with what to do next. “What?”

  Ben casually walked in, waving a paper. “You have to see this picture Hannah drew,” he said, smiling. “I don’t know what’s supposed to be considered good for her age, but this to me is awesome.”

  He held up the picture to her like a proud parent, which only sickened her further. She didn’t bother to look at it. She couldn’t remove her gaze from his face. As much as she had seen his face in magazines and on the movie screen, as much as she had touched and even kissed it, it was as though she were seeing him for the first time.

  And he was a stranger.

  “Hey,” he said, laying a hand on her shoulder. “You look like you could kick a cat. Something wrong?”

  She stepped back out of his reach, but his hand didn’t automatically drop down. “How could you?” she asked. She kept her voice calm and in deadly control. “Weren’t you getting enough character preparation here at the school?”

  He met her question with a blank stare.

  Feeling malicious, she laughed in his face. “What’s the matter, Ben? Forget to memorize your lines today?”

  Ben tossed Hannah’s picture on her desk with an irritable frown. “Okay, I give up. I don’t know what you’re talking about, so you’re going to have to fill me in.”

  “Okay. I’ll fill you in,” she said calmly. “You lied to me. You lied to my daughter. And I’ll never forgive you for something like that.”

  Chapter Ten

  Ben stared at Sandra, a cold rush of dread leaving him temporarily speechless. If she had slapped him in the face, it wouldn’t have surprised him more. But he would’ve preferred that to the icy retort she threw at him instead.

  Choosing his words carefully, he tried to make some sense out of what was going on. “Sandals—”

  “Don’t call me that.” When she spoke, she met his gaze squarely, but he couldn’t help but notice how pale her face looked despite all her controlled poise. “Was the nickname part of your research, too? Will you be using that in your movie? It’s much more inventive than Sandy, I have to say.”

  He moved closer, but resisted the urge to touch her again—he didn’t fool himself into thinking it would in any way comfort her, or be welcomed. “Look, slow down. What are you talking about? Who told you I lied to you?”

  “Your agent. She just graced me with her presence a few minutes ago.”

  “Denise was here?”

  She snorted. “It’s interesting your initial reaction is to ask about your agent instead of denying you lied. I guess that shows where your real concern rests.”

  “My real concern?” He heaved a frustrated sigh. “Wait. I’m confused. What exactly did Denise say?”

  “Don’t worry. She didn’t utter one bad thing about you. I was able to deduce that all on my own when she told me the kind of role you were up for. Wow, the father of a four-year-old, Ben? That’s quite a coincidence.”

  She sounded so accusing he had to rein in his own temper. “So?” he responded, hiking his shoulders.

  “You never told me that. I’d call that lying.”

  “You never asked,” he countered. “You never wanted to hear about anything related to my job. I seem to remember you’re not overly fond of the whole acting business in general.”

  “That’s lying by omission.”

  “No, it’s not telling you something I didn’t feel was important.”

  Her eyes flashed with anger. “Not important? You using me and my daughter for research so you can get your precious Oscar? You’ve got a strange sense of what is and isn’t important. I think you’ve had too much California sun.” She took a step toward the door, but he shifted in front of her and blocked her with his body.

  “Wait, just a second. You’re blowing this way out of proportion. I never used you or Hannah. I would never do that. You have to believe me. You—both of you—mean the world to me.”

  “Yeah, I bet. You’re indebted to us for helping your career, that’s all. And after last night…after all that talk about friendship…” A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “I guess I should be even more grateful to you for ending that kiss. What happened, Ben, get a bad case of morality? Well, pardon me if I don’t say thank you.”

  Blown away she would automatically think so little of him, he grabbed her by her shoulders and lightly shook her. “It wasn’t like that. You know it wasn’t like that. What we had—have—is special. You have to believe I wasn’t pretending.” Not this time. What he felt for her and Hannah was the real thing.

  Ben didn’t say another word. He looked at her in earnest, hoping he could at least show what he didn’t know how else to voice. He’d learned from enough directors in his career a person could always reveal more with actions than with words.

  Right now, he was counting on that.

  As he gazed into her wounded blue eyes, he wanted more than ever to wrap her in his arms and tell her it wasn’t an act—it couldn’t be an act, because he loved her and had never felt anything like this for anyone in his entire selfish life. But if he told her that now, the timing would seem like more of a coincidence. She wouldn’t believe him. Surely, it would sound like another lie to save face.

  Sandra looked up into his eyes for several long seconds and, when her expression softened, it sparked some hope in his heart. “Look, Ben, I understand your career is important to you, that was one of the first things you shared with me. I’m not faulting you for that. I just wish... I had a right to know before I let you spend time with Hannah. I—she’s become attached to you. It’s not fair to her.”

  “You’re right,” he rushed out. He was too anxious to make things right between them, anxious to have her smile at him again, anxious to be able to breathe again. He hated the way she was looking at him—much like the way she’d looked when he’d first met her at the park, the day she’d thought he was a criminal. “You’re absolutely right,” he repeated. “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you what kind of part I was up for before. Maybe I didn’t because I didn’t want you thinking—”

  Their gazes locked.

  Then her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t tell me because you didn’t want me thinking what?” she prompted. “That you’re exactly like Steve?”

  Oh, man. Typecast again.

  He felt kicked in the stomach. But that was exactly what he was afraid of—her thinking he was as bad as her ex-husband. Okay, maybe he hadn’t thought that in the beginning, but later, when he’d found out Steve was an actor, the thought that she would draw comparisons between them had crossed his mind on more than one occasion. After all, it wasn’t any great secret she didn’t have a lot of trust in actors. Maybe part of him held back something that was trivial to him, but that Sandra might take as suspicious. Now he had dug himself in deep.

  “Don’t worry. I don’t think you’re like Steve at all,” she told him, her voice growing unsteady by the second. “You’re much worse.” She brushed him aside, but he grabbed hold of her arm to keep her from walking out again.

  “Sandra, don�
�t be like this. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Don’t throw away what we have here. Not now. Not over this.”

  She flung up her arms in a helpless gesture. “Ben, you keep talking about what we have here. That you don’t want to ruin what we have. You said the same thing last night. What exactly do we have here?”

  He let a moment pass as he thought about that. What did they have? Much more than friendship—at least on his part. Dammit, he thought about marrying her. But that thought also scared him to death.

  Would she even believe him? Would they really have a chance at something more? Or would he make a bigger mess out of their relationship and create worse publicity for himself in the process? He didn’t know. He couldn’t be sure. His hands and tongue felt tied, and as a result, he remained silent.

  She nodded. “That’s what I thought,” she said sadly. Then she walked out the door.

  It was well after five when her doorbell rang.

  Sandra sniffed and swiped the tears from her eyes as she made her way down the hall to answer it. She had told herself many times over she wasn’t going to cry over Ben, but once she’d let a few tears escape on the drive home from work, it was as though a dam had been broken—with no repairman in sight. Her emotions bounced all over the place, from anger to relief to hurt to depression, ever since the awful confrontation she had with him earlier. Then, just when she thought she’d reached a state of equilibrium, Hannah had inadvertently set her off again by asking all sorts of questions, like where Ben was going and if he was coming back soon or just in time to see her dressed up for Halloween, like he’d promised.

  What could she possibly say to all that?

  It was too much for her to deal with all in one day, so Sandra had simply let it go by telling her she didn’t know. Hannah would find out soon enough that Ben hadn’t really meant what he’d promised her. There wasn’t a chance he would come back to New Jersey for a small preschool Halloween party. Why couldn’t men mean what they say? Didn’t they realize that broken promises hurt much more than the truth?