One Day at a Time

by Danielle Steel

  “What about coming over to see me once I settle in?” he asked lazily as they lay on the deck after a long walk on the beach.

  “I don't think I can until Jane and Liz come home. And I'm not sure I can get coverage for that long, but I'll try. You'll be working hard anyway” she said sensibly and he looked disappointed. He didn't want to wait to see her until he came back from Italy.

  “I have to go back to the hotel at some point. And you can hang out on the set, or discover Venice. It's a lovely city.” But more important, Coco thought he was a lovely man.

  “I'll try. I promise. Liz said they'd be home in about two weeks.” A week after he left. “I'll see if I can get Erin to cover for me.” She was working for Coco that weekend, and she seemed to like the money and the work, which was a blessing for them. Coco had the feeling she might be using her often, if Erin was willing. She had another part-time job, and they still had to work it out.

  “I'm going to go crazy without you,” Leslie said, looking sad. “I hate being away from you,” he confessed, but she didn't like it either. It had been an agonizing four days without him when he left San Francisco. And this was only the beginning. He went on location a lot, often for many months of the year.

  “I'm going to miss you too,” she said, trying not to think about it. But at least he was coming to Bolinas the next weekend before he left.

  He wanted to ask her if she was feeling any better about moving to L.A. to be with him, but he didn't dare. He knew it was too soon. And things were not always going to go as smoothly as they had the night before. That had been a carefully orchestrated dog and pony show. At other times, left to their own devices, the press got out of control, and a feeding frenzy occurred. He knew just how much Coco would hate that, and he did too. But it was part of the territory for him, and not for her. She didn't have to put up with it, he did. And at its worst, it was insane, and no way for a sane person to live.

  They went back to the hotel on Sunday afternoon. There was a lone photographer waiting outside, and he took their photograph as they got out of the car. Coco could see that Leslie was annoyed, but he flashed the camera a brilliant smile. His philosophy was that if they got you, at least look good and not like an ax murderer about to strike. It was why she had almost always seen him looking smiling and pleasant in the press.

  They hurried to their room and he didn't follow them. Paparazzi were not tolerated on the grounds of the Bel-Air. And they stayed in their room with the shades drawn until she left. They made love and slept for a while, and reluctantly, he woke her, and she packed, took a shower with him, and dressed. She was taking the last plane back to San Francisco. Erin couldn't cover for her any longer. They'd had three days, and Leslie had to work long hours all week on final meetings.

  Leslie carried her bags himself so they didn't have to call a bellman, and he handed them to the driver, and as he turned to say something to Coco, a series of flashes went off in their faces. It was the staccato of strobes, and Coco was temporarily blinded as she felt someone shove her, and the next thing she knew she flew through the air into the car before she knew what hit her. Leslie landed on top of her, and he was shouting to the driver to pull away, and they sped off. She was breathless as she turned to look at Leslie as he settled back against the seat.

  “What was that?” she asked in amazement.

  “Paparazzi. A whole flock of them. My darling, there goes your reputation. You will no longer be considered just a date for an evening. Now the fun begins.” He looked resigned as he said it. He had been through it a thousand times before, but this was her first taste of what lay ahead. “Did I hurt you when I pushed you?” he asked with a look of concern, and she shook her head.

  “It all happened so fast I didn't know what hit me. I didn't know if they pushed me or you did.”

  “I didn't want them swamping you completely. They would have. There were about ten of them. I suppose the word has gotten out, or they were just checking. They got what they wanted, so now they'll be hot on the trail. I'm glad you're leaving tonight. It would be annoying for you.” And they would have no idea where to find her in San Francisco, which was a blessing. Leslie looked unruffled, and Coco took her cue from him and tried not to let it upset her. But there was no question, their secret was out now. Welcome to Leslie's world. And he was right, it was not always as tame as the night before. This had been somewhat rougher, although he had protected her quickly, with the instincts born of experience and practice.

  He walked her to the security line in the airport, and kissed her. There were no photographers there. Only people who glanced at him, and then started as they recognized him, and then whispered to each other. And it was only after he kissed her and walked away that someone stopped him for an autograph. He waved at her, and she smiled at him, and then went through security. She already missed him, and she could feel the coach turning into a pumpkin as she walked to the gate alone.

  Chapter 13

  Much to Coco's amazement, her mother called her at eight o'clock the next day just before she left for work.

  “Good lord, now what are you up to?” She had no idea what her mother meant. She had overslept after getting in late the night before, and she was rushing to pick up her first set of dogs.

  “I'm on my way to work. Why?”

  “Well, you must be doing more than that these days. There's all sorts of gossip about you and Leslie Baxter in this morning's paper. It says you spent the weekend with him at the Bel-Air and you're his latest fling. When did that happen?” her mother asked with interest.

  “Over the summer,” Coco said cautiously. She didn't want to discuss it with her mother, or hear the kind of comments she'd gotten from Jane. Her mother had been taken down a notch or two over her affair with a much younger man, but she was still the same person she had always been. And she had never approved of any man in Coco's life. If she did this time, it would be a first, and Coco didn't think it was likely. Some things never changed.

  “Don't you think he's a bit racy for you?” “He's a pretty normal person, when he's not in L.A.” “They all are, or most of them, when they're somewhere else. But Coco, he's a very, very big star, and you aren't. In the end, he'll go back to his own kind. You're probably a breath of fresh air for him, but that won't last,” her mother warned her, echoing more politely what her sister had said.

  “Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Coco said tersely. “I can't talk about it now, I'm late for work.”

  “Well, have fun with him, but don't take it seriously.” “Is that how you feel about Gabriel?” Coco asked. “Of course not. Why would you say a thing like that? We've been together for a year, and we have great respect for each other. It's not just a summer fling,” she said, sounding offended. “Well, maybe this isn't either. We'll see what happens.” “You'll get your heart broken when he leaves you for some famous actress. Besides, he's too old for you.” Coco rolled her eyes as she listened.

  “I can't believe that you of all people are saying that to me. I've got to go, Mom.”

  “Well, just be careful. Enjoy it while it lasts.” They both hung up, and Coco was upset about it as she got into her van. Why did everyone think he was just going to play with her and dump her? Why couldn't a movie star fall in love too, or be a real person, or want more than just a quick affair with a costar? Why did everyone believe that she meant nothing to him? It was a statement of what they thought of her, even more than what they thought of him. That she was so insignificant that she would mean nothing to him, and it would end, because she didn't deserve him. She was depressed about it all day, and she couldn't talk to Leslie until late afternoon, because he was in meetings. He finally called her at six o'clock and sounded drained.

  “Hi, sweetheart. How was your day?” he asked, and she immediately told him about the call from her mother. She had also had a call from Jane, but didn't take it.

  “It's all so stereotypical,” she ranted at him. “The movie star and the dog-walker.
My mother acts like all I'm good for is a piece of ass, and only a temporary one at that.”

  “Don't underrate yourself,” he said seriously. “I think you would make a great piece of ass long term.”

  “Oh shut up,” she said, and smiled for the first time all day.

  “Don't let it get to you. There was a lot of stuff in the papers today. Including a great shot of me with both hands on your bottom shoving you into the car. I think that one was my favorite.”

  “What are they saying?” Coco asked, sounding worried.

  “One of the papers said you are my 'latest beauty.' Another one calls you my new mystery girlfriend. It's all pretty standard stuff. We didn't do anything wrong. You weren't falling-down drunk, neither was I. We didn't have sex in public, although we could try that. It just says you're my new hot date, or my current fling or whatever. After we've been around together for a while, it'll calm down. Right now, it's hot news and everyone wants to know where you live and who you are. And you don't live here, and I'm going away, so you're fine.” But what if she did live there, and with him? They'd be all over them every day. It was exactly why she didn't want to move to L.A. “Don't worry about it. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Now we're out in the open and it's done. It's kind of like losing your virginity to the press, it only hurts the first time, and as long as we behave decently in public, we'll be fine.” She thought he was being overly optimistic, but she didn't want to argue with him about it. It was still very much on her mind that night when her mother called her again. Coco almost didn't answer, but in the end she did. She called to tell Coco that some reporter had called her asking where her daughter lived. She wondered if it was the reporter at the party who had asked if she was Florence Flowers's daughter. One of the papers had reported on that fact, according to Leslie. And her mother had had her secretary tell them that she lived in Europe and was only in L.A. for a few days.

  “That was clever of you, Mom. Thank you.” She was grateful for that at least, even if her mother thought she wouldn't hold Leslie's interest for long.

  “It'll throw them off the scent for a while. When are you seeing him again?” Her mother was curious about them now.

  “This weekend. In Bolinas. He leaves next Monday for Venice on location, he'll be gone for a month or two.”

  “That may end it between the two of you. He'll be working with his costars all the time, and you'll be six thousand miles away. Hollywood romances don't usually survive that. Absence makes their hearts fonder of the people they're working with, not the ones they leave at home. Kind of like a cruise.”

  “Thanks for the reassurance,” Coco said glumly. It was more of what she'd heard before.

  “You have to be realistic about it, if you're going to date someone like him.” Coco wanted to ask her how realistic she was about her twelve-year-old boyfriend, but she didn't. She was always more respectful of her mother than Florence was of her. “Who's in the movie with him?” Florence asked with interest.

  Coco reeled off the names of his costars, among them Madison Allbright. “She'll probably be the one,” her mother said. “She's a gorgeous girl. It would be hard for any man to resist her.”

  “Thank you, Mom,” Coco said, sounding depressed again, and after thanking her mother for covering for her with the press, she got off the phone. She lay in bed awake for hours, thinking about what she'd said. And by morning Coco was in a total panic over Leslie's costar. She was too embarrassed to even say it to him, but she was seriously worried about it, and had a miserable week as a result. She never once mentioned Madison's name to him when they talked. And it was all she could do not to burst into tears when he walked into the house on Friday night. He let himself in with the keys he had kept, and found Coco in the bathtub with her freshly washed hair wrapped in a towel. He took one look at her, burst into a broad smile, took off his clothes, and got into the tub with her, as she grinned.

  “Now this is what I call a homecoming,” he said with obvious delight as he kissed her. And within minutes of getting into the tub with her, they made love. And in spite of all her fears during the week, it was a perfect night. It was as though he had never left to go back to L.A. Everything felt as right as it always had.

  They left for Bolinas with the dogs the next morning, and the weather was glorious. It was typical late-September weather and hotter than it had been all summer. The nights were warm and balmy, which was rare. And they had never been more in love with each other. There was no sign of his having fallen for Madison Allbright. But then again, they weren't in Venice yet. But Coco was no longer as worried. There was no doubt in her mind, as she lay in his arms on the deck under the stars, that he was as in love with her as she was with him. He said it to her over and over again, and she believed him. There was no reason why she shouldn't. He had begged her again to come to Venice, and she had promised him she would.

  He had brought all the press clippings about them from that week. They had run a number of photographs of them, and there was no question now, the media were hot on their trail.

  They talked about it over breakfast on Sunday morning.

  “We knew it would happen sooner or later,” Leslie said philosophically. “Any new face on the scene snags their interest. They have nothing better to do than look for gossip and juicy stories.”

  “I'm not very juicy,” Coco said as she glanced at their photographs again, in every paper, and sipped her tea. “Wait till someone tells them I'm a dog-walker. That'll really do it for them.” Instead they had latched on to who her mother was, which made her more interesting. She had already told him that they had called her mother.

  “You're very juicy!” he assured her, and leaned over to kiss her. “What do you think Jane will say if they call her?”

  “That I'm a hippie and a flake and a complete zero, or something equally charming,” Coco said, looking sad about it.

  “If she does something like that, I'll kill her,” Leslie said with fervor. “You know, I really think it boils down to jealousy with her,” he said, looking pensive, as he glanced at the ocean and then at Coco. “I think she's pissed off that you're beautiful, do what you want, and you'll always be eleven years younger. I think she's just narcissistic enough to consider that an insult. Maybe she was always jealous of you as a little kid, and you just didn't know it. I don't think this has anything to do with your dropping out of law school, or moving to Bolinas. I think that's her excuse.

  “I think, bottom line, she's mad at you for what you are and she's not, starting with younger. You're soft, kind, gentle, compassionate. People love you. Jane is tough as nails, she's had to be to get where she is. The only thing warm and fuzzy about Jane is Liz. She'd be unbearable without her. Everyone likes Liz better, and you. That must be tough for her to stomach. And on top of it, she was an adored only child until you came along when she was eleven. And you fucked it all up for her. I think underneath all the bullshit she talks about and accuses you of, she hasn't forgiven you for that yet. She always puts you down, and treats you like a five-year-old.” What he said had a ring of truth to it, even to Coco, and it shed light on her sister's negative attitude toward her, as long as she could remember. His theory certainly explained it.

  “The worst part of it is that I act like I'm five years old when I'm around her. She scared me to death when I was a kid. She was always threatening to get me in trouble with Mom or Dad, or treating me like her slave. She still does.” Coco sighed then. “And I let her do it. I don't know what she's so pissed off about. She's always been Mom's favorite, and Dad thought she walked on water, especially when she started producing. And even before that, he was thrilled when she went to film school at UCLA. I don't think my going to Princeton impressed him half as much. He thought it was stuffy. I redeemed myself when I got into law school at Stanford. I don't think I even wanted to. I just did it to make him happy, and then I hated every minute of it. I set myself up to fail. All I really wanted to do was get a master's in art history and w
ork in a museum. He said I'd never make a dime at it, and it was stupid.”

  “Why don't you do that now then?” Leslie suggested, his eyes lighting up at the idea. “Either that or become a vet,” he teased her. She loved every dog she walked and treated them like children. But he knew she had a passion for art too. Her tiny house was crammed with art books.

  “What would I do with that now? It's a little late to go back to school.”

  “No, it isn't. And if it makes you happy, why not? You could go to UCLA, if you come down there to live with me. Or Stanford or Berkeley, if we move up here.” He was still trying to convince her to live with him. It would be easier for him in L.A., but he was open to moving to San Francisco for her.

  “Maybe,” she said, looking pensive. “I've always been interested in art restoration. I took a class on it in college, and I thought it was fascinating.” She had never admitted that to anyone but him. Ian wasn't interested in art, only the outdoors, and she was younger then and it suited her too. And her father had thought that any kind of academic pursuit other than law school was a waste of time.

  “Why don't you spend some time learning about it? You can decide what to do with it later. Maybe nothing, but I agree with you. I think it would be interesting to know.” She was an entirely different creature than her family, and it was obvious even to Coco that he respected that, and they didn't. He made her feel good about herself. And his theories about Jane's anger toward her struck a chord with her too. “Venice might be particularly fun for you, if you're interested in restoration. They've been fighting to keep the place from falling apart for years. It's an absolute gem of a city.” He had been there before, she hadn't. She had been to Florence and Rome, and Pompeii, and Capri once on a yacht with her parents, but never Venice.