“Sort of?”
“It’s ancient history, darling.”
“What did he do?”
“He sort of felt me up under the table at dinner one time.”
“Where was I?”
“Um, on the other side of the table, as I recall.”
“And you never told me?” I fumed.
“We were all drunk that night. When you went to the loo, I told him to get his hands off my knickers. He did. That was that. I figured, one mistake, darling. End of story.”
“I’m surprised Thad gave up so easily.”
“Well, he did.”
“I’m also surprised you had the willpower to push him away. That’s not like you.”
“Well, that’s what I did,” Bree repeated. “As soon as you went to the loo, I pushed his hands away. Yes, I did. As soon as you went to the loo, I stopped him cold.”
Hmm.
I know Bree. I’ve known her for years. I know when she’s not telling me everything. She’s a gifted liar with everyone else and a terrible liar with me. She swells up like an overblown birthday balloon, ready to pop. I just waited, and she felt me sitting there, waiting. She didn’t look at me. She knew what I wanted.
“Bree?” I said expectantly.
Pop.
She leaned into me and said in a drunken whisper at an extremely fast pace, “Look, darling, in the spirit of complete candor, and at the risk of spoiling our newfound rapprochement…”
She stopped. I waited again.
I think Bree was hoping someone would yell “Fire,” and we would have to evacuate the theatre. No one did. Finally, she gave in.
“…it would have been better if you’d gone to the loo a little sooner that night.”
10
I didn’t really blame Bree. That’s like blaming a puppy for peeing the carpet. It’s what puppies do. You can swat their fannies, but they’ll still do it again when you’re not looking, and in Bree’s case, she’d probably enjoy the spanking. If anything, I was glad to know that my suspicions about Thad in those days were correct, because it stiffened my resolve to resist him.
That lasted until the curtain went up, and there he was.
Oh, balls.
He was no more than twenty feet away from me. In Rear Window, he is a photographer in a wheelchair, recovering from an injury, and his character is charming and street-smart. It’s less a mystery than it is a stage for beautiful people to trade flirty, witty remarks. I had to admit, Thad was well cast. He doesn’t need to stand up to be sexy.
He hadn’t changed at all. Actors always seem untouched by time, because they have makeup and plastic surgery to wipe away the wrinkles, hair color to erase any gray, private chefs to watch their calories, and fifty-two weeks of Los Angeles heat and sunshine in which to tone their bodies. Physically, Thad could have been twenty-five. It was in his attitude that I could see his new-found maturity. That’s where the rough edges get smoothed. He carried himself like a man comfortable in his own skin, empowered by his success. He was even more attractive now than he was when we were engaged.
Damn.
I’ve been on stage before. I knew he could see me in the front row, regardless of the bright lights. He never acknowledged me directly. When his eyes passed across the fourth wall, they never paused as they met mine. Even so, he saw me, and I felt his stare. I could tell in his face. Oh yes, he saw me. It had an uncomfortably arousing effect between my legs.
Bree grinned at me. She knew.
The play felt long. I think it was ten or twelve hours before the final curtain. At least that’s how it felt as I stared at Thad, because he was on stage essentially every minute of the show. He was terrific. So was JJ. I actually felt jealous of their chemistry. It wasn’t a good thing. I shouldn’t have cared.
When they took their bows, he finally made eye contact. One wink.
Swoon.
The house lights went up, and everyone gathered up their coats. I was a little wobbly on my feet. I debated whether to stay. I was under no obligation to say yes to his invitation, but I knew I would. Yes, I wanted to see him again, because I am The World’s Most Stupid Human Being.
“You okay?” Bree asked me.
“Not really.”
“Still hate me?”
“Yes,” I said, “but no more than I did before.”
“Good. I’m sorry.” She added unnecessarily, “You know, about the whole diddling thing.”
“I get it.”
“Maybe I really am a slut.”
“No arguments here, Bree.”
“I’m going back to the Gansevoort to check on King,” she said, “unless you need a chaperone back stage.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said.
She air-kissed me rather than leave lipstick on my cheek.
I waited until most of the audience had left before I worked up the courage to go back stage. Maybe I wanted him to wait. I didn’t want to look over-eager. Security was obviously expecting me, because they waved me through with a leering smile. Some of the cast were still in costume in the hallway as I threaded my way to the dressing rooms. I bumped into January. She was still dressed like a vision from the 1950s, looking amazing even in helmet hair, which was also true in Mad Men.
“Great show,” I told her.
She smiled. “Thanks.”
“You did Grace Kelly justice,” I said. It was about the highest praise I could offer, and I think she appreciated it.
“That’s sweet.” She saw that I was aiming for Thad’s door and made a quick perusal of me. “Are you Julie?”
“I am.”
“Thad mentioned he was seeing an old girlfriend tonight.”
Old?
“We were actors together,” I said.
“Oh, you were an actress?”
“There’s some debate about that.”
She laughed.
I smiled at her as I knocked on Thad’s door. Part of me wanted to run, but everyone was looking at me. From inside, I heard his voice. I’d been listening to it all evening on stage, but it still made my heart thump. I slipped inside, closed the door behind me, and leaned against it. I was breathing hard.
“Julie,” he said.
He’d showered and changed already. He crossed the room in two long strides and gathered me up in his arms. He planted a soft kiss on my lips. Instantly, I was twenty-three years old again. That’s not a bad feeling.
“Look at you,” he said. “More beautiful than ever.”
I caught my breath. “You’re looking pretty good yourself, Thad,” I said, but he already knew that.
“I’m so glad you came.”
“Thank my mother.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” he said. “You must feel like the victim of a conspiracy. I wasn’t sure if you’d see me if I just called out of the blue.”
“Probably not. I didn’t even know you were in the city.”
“Not for long. Only for a few more days. My run’s done soon.”
“Well, here I am,” I said. “What now?”
“Let me take you for dessert and a bottle of wine.”
He saw me hesitate.
“I know a little place in the Village,” he went on. “It’s private. We can talk.”
This was more than a drink. This was more than half an hour reminiscing about old times. We were in the present, not the past. I wondered about his agenda and Cherie’s. In the end, however, I wasn’t going to say no. Sometimes you have to return to old intersections and find out if you turned the right way. If you want to get to the next chapter, you have to turn the page.
“Okay, I’d like that.”
“There will probably be paparazzi as we leave. I just want to warn you. Are you okay with that?”
I smiled like a star and brushed my hair from my face. “Oh, they’re after me all the time.”
Thad was right. There were flash bulbs as we left, but the taxi lost the popzees by the time we reached the little trattoria off Bleecker. He’d called a
head. The Italian owner, florid-faced and barely taller than me, met us in the alley and kissed us on both cheeks. He smelled of garlic. He took us through the kitchen to a secluded room separated from the main restaurant. It was actually the wine cellar, and the walls were lined with dusty bottles of Chianti and prosecco. A single table waited for us, lit by a tall candle, with an open bottle of wine already breathing, and two servings of tiramisu on square china plates.
Nice.
The owner pulled out my chair and placed my napkin carefully in my lap. Music played on hidden speakers; it was Tullio Pizzorno’s Conosco L’Assassina. I’d discovered him on a trip to Italy four years earlier, and I don’t know how Thad knew that I’d become a huge fan. Then I realized: My mother again.
This was definitely a conspiracy.
The owner poured wine and left us alone. Just me, Thad, and Tullio crooning over our heads.
“I was so sorry to hear about Sonny,” Thad told me.
“Thanks.”
“I lost my own father two years ago. I know what you’re going through.”
“Does the grief go away?”
“No, you just learn to live with it.” He reached for my hand and caressed my fingers. I remembered how strong and warm his grip was. “Sonny never liked me much, did he?”
“No, he didn’t.”
Thad grinned, taking no offense. He knew most people liked him now, and he didn’t really need to care about those who didn’t. “Sonny was right about me back then. So were you.”
“Seems to me I liked you,” I said. I added in the silence that followed: “I loved you.”
“I loved you, too, Julie. I just meant you were right to break up with me the way you did. I deserved to lose you. I was callow and controlling. My ego ran my life.”
“Well, there’s nothing like becoming rich and famous to deflate your ego, Thad. Pulling in a few million per pic. Ducking the popzees. Starring on Broadway opposite January Jones.”
Thad studied my face the way a painter would, trying to unlock its secrets. I heard the silent message; he wanted me. Or at least, that’s what he wanted me to think. It was seductive, seeing those eyes focused on me, not letting go.
“Believe it or not, I’ve learned a few things over the years,” Thad said. “I’ve matured. It took a bad marriage and some bad relationships to teach me what was real and what wasn’t. That’s not always easy in Hollywood.” He added, “Looking back, what we had was real. It simply wasn’t the right time for either of us.”
Yes, what we had was so real you groped my best friend under the table in front of me. Okay, I chose not to remind him of that story. Reality is overrated.
I took a bite of the black-bottom tiramisu. It was divine. Tiramisu is my favorite dessert, a fact that Cherie most certainly shared with Thad. There are no accidents in my mother’s world.
The wine was superb, too. Thad always had good taste in everything.
“You’ve done well, Thad.”
“I’ve had some lucky breaks.”
“You don’t need to be modest. You’re a great actor. Audiences love you. You could feel it in the theatre tonight.”
“Plenty of great actors work at Wal-Mart and eat Chef Boyardee for dinner. I’m fortunate to do what I do and get paid for it.”
I didn’t know if he was sincere, or if he was simply acting again, for my benefit. He was right, though. Talent and success only graze each other in Los Angeles. Otherwise, it’s luck and connections.
“Tell me about your life, Julie,” he said.
He was definitely on his best behavior, talking about me, not talking about himself. Or maybe he assumed I knew all about his life from reading about it in the weekly magazines. Which was true.
“Didn’t my mother tell you about it?” I said.
“I think I’m likely to get a different story from you than from her. You know how mothers are. Mine still says I should get a real job.”
“So does mine.”
“I wasn’t actually thinking about jobs,” he said. “You never got married?”
“No.” My fiancés kept cheating on me.
“Are you serious with anyone?”
“No.”
“Neither am I.”
“Didn’t I see a photograph of you in St. Maarten with one of those Sports Illustrated swimsuit models?”
“Body paint, actually.”
Right. Now that’s a real job, standing there naked while someone paints your privates. Sign me up.
“She’s cute,” I said.
“Cute. Fun. That’s all it is.”
“All?” My skepticism was obvious, but Thad wasn’t offended.
“I didn’t say I was celibate,” he assured me, “just that I’m not serious with anyone. I assume you’re not celibate either.”
Actually, yes.
“Of course not,” I said. I wondered where he was going with this, so I asked, “Where are you going with this?”
He took a sip of wine, savoring the mouthful. Studying his mouth, all chiseled with sharp angles, made me think about kissing him. Not a good thing. “Here we are unattached after all these years,” he said. “Maybe our timing is finally better.”
“It’s not. What do you want, a one-night stand? Are you feeling nostalgic?”
“I know you better than that, Julie.”
“Then what?”
“I’d like to get to know you again. Who knows where it would lead?”
“I’m not in the market for romance. I’ve got too much on my plate right now.”
“Yes, I know. Sonny. West 57. You must feel like you’re wrestling with your whole life.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m sorry to add another complication.”
“There’s no complication. We’re having dessert. That’s all.”
Thad put down his wine glass and stood up. I held my breath as he drew closer and knelt beside me. One strand of my hair had fallen wrong on my cheek, and he set it right. His fingers lingered on my skin. “I wasn’t sure what I’d feel when I saw you again,” he said.
“And?”
“It’s like finding a favorite ring I lost years ago.”
Damn, he’s good. It was a fight not to give in to what I was feeling, which was to start unbuttoning his shirt.
“Why now, Thad?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve had years to look me up. You’re in and out of New York all the time. Why now?”
“You said it yourself. You’re re-evaluating your whole life. We only get so many windows of opportunity.”
“Our window closed a long time ago.”
“Maybe it did, but you can’t tell me you feel nothing.”
“I never said I felt nothing, but I meant it when I said I wasn’t looking for romance right now.”
“Actually, neither was I, but now I’m not so sure.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means that your mother suggested I talk to you tonight,” Thad said, which is not one of those lines that enhances the romantic mood.
“Naturally.”
“Not about us getting back together. She wasn’t thinking about that at all.”
“Apparently you don’t know my mother.”
“I do. I know her very well.”
Uh oh.
“Cherie and I are partners in a new production company,” Thad went on.
“Excuse me?”
“We started it six months ago.”
Funny how my mother never mentioned it, I thought.
“Funny how my mother never mentioned it,” I said.
“Are you surprised?” Thad asked, smiling.
“No.”
“We need someone in L.A. helping us find and develop the right properties. We need your eye for the book and movie worlds.”
I stared at him. “This is a job offer?”
“I know Cherie already talked to you about moving west and working with her. She wants you leading our new proje
ct.”
“That’s what this is all about?” I said. “That’s what you want?”
Thad shook his head. “Not just that. Not anymore. That was before I saw you.”
I pushed my chair back. I put my napkin on the table. I headed for the door. “I have to go.”
“Julie, wait.”
He stopped me and trapped me against the wall. Wine bottles poked my back like a body massager. If he was any closer to me, we would already have been having sex. “Let me go,” I said.
“Please. Listen. I meant what I said about getting to know you again. I also meant what I said about us making a good team. If you don’t feel anything, if you don’t think there’s something worth exploring between us, personally or professionally, then just say so. That’ll be the end of it.”
“There’s nothing worth exploring between us, personally or professionally,” I said.
No, I didn’t say that.
I had every intention of saying it, but I didn’t. Instead, I pulled him to me across the two inches separating our faces, and I kissed him. I wasn’t twenty-three, and neither was he, but it was better than any kiss back then. His body paint model never kissed him like that, no matter what else they did together.
The kiss was so electric that I actually started vibrating. That’s what I thought, anyway, but it was really my cell phone. Still breathing hard, I checked the caller ID and saw that it was Bree.
Balls!
“Am I interrupting something?” she asked me.
“Yes.”
“Are you naked?”
“Not yet.”
“Shame.”
“What do you want, Bree?”
“Well, I really hate to kill the mood, darling, but I’m afraid we have a problem.”
11
The problem was King Royal.
Bree and I rode the elevator at the Gansevoort to the rooftop bar. We were squeezed inside limb to limb with club-hoppers who were young and mostly naked. At least that’s how it looked to me. I felt over-dressed in my shorty dress. I was pretty sure half the couples were having sex in the elevator. The woman who was squeezed against my butt might have been having sex with me.
“So how far did it go?” Bree asked.
“What?”
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