Chapter Nine
Dorrie spent the next few days on the shoot, conferring with the assistant director and Gunther. Although she was tired all the time, satisfaction at a job well done buoyed her spirits. As the filming came to a close, her confidence soared and pride banished her old concerns.
Although Gunther was a taskmaster, he complimented her on her work and expressed satisfaction with the results. She glowed under his praise as a few old feelings toward him seeped back into her heart.
After taking her seat on the plane back to L.A., she was surprised to see Gunther claim the one next to her in first class.
“Surprised?” he asked as he eased himself down and fastened his seatbelt.
“I shouldn’t be surprised by anything you do, should I?”
“True, I’m unpredictable.” He grinned.
“And proud of it, right?”
“Of course.”
The stewardess brought champagne. Gunther raised his glass to hers. “A toast. Job well done.”
Dorrie raised her flute to his and smiled. His praise still means something to me. On a business level or personal? Maybe both.
“You look beautiful.”
“Really? My hair’s a mess, and I’m wearing an old T-shirt and jeans. Come on, you can do better than that,” she snickered.
“Your hair looks like you’ve just made love. Your T-shirt shows off your body, and your jeans, well, can’t see much from here.”
“Flatterer.”
“Maybe. Or perhaps just a man in love.”
Dorrie gave a short, bitter laugh. “Love? The great Gunther Quill in love? Don’t think so. Everyone knows Gunther is above love…beyond the reach of human emotion. He’s a machine, a hungry machine, taking what he wants, when he wants it, and discarding what’s no longer useful, like the peel of an orange.” She turned her gaze toward the window. Why do I care? I’m so over him. Right?
Curious as to the silence that followed her pronouncement, she peeked at him. He sat back with his eyes closed, his champagne sitting on the tray table, held carelessly by the long fingers of one hand.
His impeccable silk shirt was unbuttoned just the right amount at the neck. His chocolate brown jacket was of the finest, thinnest leather and molded to his broad shoulders. She saw a slight bulge of bicep outlined by the snug sleeve. His dark brown hair was not too long or too short, but trimmed perfectly. The style suited him, parted on one side with every hair in place. A sprinkling of gray at his temples only added to his attraction.
His looks have improved in three years. He’s so attractive. I can see how he could take in Grace Brewster. Like a pretty serpent, he dazzles then strikes quickly. Don’t let him do that to you.
Slowly, he cracked open his deep brown eyes and shifted them to stare at her. “Why would you hurt me like that, Dorrie? Have I wounded you?” he uttered in a low voice.
“I can’t hurt you. You’re invincible, armored, protected from me.”
“What makes you think so?”
“I tried, three years ago, and didn’t make a dent.”
“Don’t be so sure.” He lifted his drink to his lips and took a sip.
Dorrie turned her body to face him. Overcome with curiosity, she had to know how he managed to stay above it all, to avoid involvement and emotional pain. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Never get hurt.”
He uttered a short, mirthless laugh and straightened up in his seat. “Foolish girl.” He shook his head. “Everyone gets hurt.”
“I’ve never seen anyone hurt you. Especially me.”
“Just because I don’t cry in public doesn’t mean I have no wounds.”
“So, I did injure you?”
“What do you want, Dorrie? Do you want me to admit your nasty words stung? Okay. They did. Happy?” He stared at his glass.
“I’m sorry.” She put her hand on his arm. “I’ve never seen you admit to caring that much.”
“I don’t. I’ve trained myself not to. It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve reached a place where I’m comfortable. Let it alone.”
Although it seemed Gunther aimed to stop the conversation, his statement only piqued Dorrie’s interest. “What do you mean ‘trained yourself’?”
The seatbelt sign went on, and the captain’s voice over the intercom interrupted them. Directly after his announcement, the stewardess came on, reciting the safety information. Gunther and Dorrie sat quietly.
He placed his hand over the one that still rested on him. She didn’t move away. When the plane began to taxi, the stewardess approached them with choices for their meal, prohibiting any personal conversation.
As they prepared for takeoff, Dorrie prodded Gunther. “Please explain.”
“What?”
“Don’t play that game with me. You know what. Training yourself not to feel.”
The airplane turned and stopped. Then, the roar of the engines drowned out voices and the silver bird raced down the runway, lifting into the air before reaching the end. Gunther’s fingers gripped the armrest, turning his knuckles white. Hmm. Afraid to fly? Or just afraid of takeoffs? I thought he wasn’t afraid of anything.
She folded her fingers over his and smiled at him. The grim expression on his handsome face didn’t change as he continued to stare straight ahead. Once they had leveled off, he loosened his grip. Dorrie withdrew her hand.
“I suppose I should have told you about Laurel a long time ago.”
“Laurel?”
“Do you want to hear?” he asked. She nodded. “Then don’t interrupt.” The seatbelt sign went off. The stewardess brought more champagne. Dorrie relaxed in her seat, turning her attention to Gunther.
“Laurel was my first love. I met her in my sophomore year of college. She was beautiful, gorgeous. Blonde, built…and sweet. I couldn’t believe my luck. Though, I was different back then.”
“How so?”
“You’re interrupting,” he said, pointing his finger at her before continuing. “I was a big-hearted idiot, gave everything to this beautiful girl. Foolish and stupid. We were both theater majors, though I tended more toward the business side, while she wanted to be an actress. We were together right through graduation. Afterward, we moved into a hellishly tiny apartment in New York. Those were the happiest days of my life.” A slight smile curled his lips.
“What happened?”
“Don’t rush me.” He shot her a stern look. “Laurel got a part in an off-Broadway play. I found work as a producer’s assistant. We were in love, and life was magical. Then, it happened.”
Dorrie bit her lip and clamped her hand over her mouth. He glanced at her.
“I’m getting there. One Sunday afternoon, we packed up a little grill and drove to Bear Mountain for a cookout. Laurel told me she knew how to build a fire, and I believed her. She used too much of that lighter fluid stuff. One match and the flames shot way up in half a second, burning her hair and face.”
Dorrie gasped.
“In the middle of the woods, I didn’t…” He stopped and gulped air. “We treated it with the little ice we had until we got her to a hospital, but it was too late, the damage was done. She was scarred.”
“Oh my God,” Dorrie whispered.
“She had to quit the play to recover. Then couldn’t find work. No one wanted a once-beautiful actress. Six months later, Laurel killed herself.”
Dorrie was speechless. Gunther made the statement with no emotion in his voice, but his eyes told another story. She saw a flicker of pain and sadness there. He took a deep breath.
“After that, I decided that serious feelings for a woman were too dangerous. I turned off that part of me, and it’s been off ever since. I’m a totally practical man, now. And I like it that way. No pain, no fear.”
He took a gulp of his champagne. Dorrie stared at him. He appeared cool and calm, but she could almost feel his heart racing. The pulse in his neck gave him away. She cupped his cheek, leaned over, and kissed hi
m lightly. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, resting her hand on his.
“Save it. That was eons ago.”
“Gunther, you don’t have to pretend—”
He grabbed her arm and removed her hand from his body. “If you’re going to kiss me, make it because you want me, not out of pity. I don’t need your pity. That was then, and this is now. I’m fine.”
Dorrie shrank back, staring into eyes almost black with emotion, glistening in the spotlight. Gunther put his hand behind her neck and pulled her to him. His lips crushed hers with a cruel passion. When he let her go, she wiped her mouth.
“Does that feel like a man who’s on the verge of tears?” His arrogant smile fell off his face when he heard her whispered reply.
“Yes, it does.”
“Don’t make it into a soap opera, Dorrie. It was twenty years ago. I’m past it now.”
“That’s something no one can ever get past. Is that why you…”
“What?”
“Why you left me when I couldn’t dance anymore? Did you think I’d kill myself? Did it remind you of Laurel?”
“Nonsense. I’d rather be with a successful woman. A woman with a high profile in the business. It’s helpful to my career and…frankly, it’s sexy.” He grinned at her.
“Doesn’t look like your career needs any help.”
“Haven’t you learned anything? In this business you can be sought after one minute then drop out of existence the next. No one’s safe.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“I love the movie business. The excitement, the challenge…”
“The women, the sex…”
“And your point is?” Lust glittered in his eyes.
She grew quiet. He hasn’t changed, but I never thought I’d feel sorry for him.
“I understand you better now.”
“Oh?” He cocked an eyebrow. “That’s good news. Does that mean you’ll let me set you up in a fabulous apartment?”
“It means I have compassion for you. It doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to get into an arrangement like that.” Dorrie raised her flute to her lips.
He laughed. “Sharp girl. Always were. Marry me, instead.”
She jumped, spilling champagne. “Damn!” Gunther rang for the stewardess. After they got her cleaned up, dinner appeared. They ate in silence.
She put her fork down, and turned to him. “Don’t ever joke like that again.”
“It wasn’t a joke. I’d leave Elsa in a heartbeat for you.”
“That must mean I’m going to be a success?”
“Maybe.”
“Sure wouldn’t propose if I said I was going to be a yoga teacher or even a dance instructor, would you?”
“Probably not.”
“You don’t get it, do you? I’m looking for love. Real love.”
“Good luck with that. It’s easier to find a four-leaf clover.”
“Maybe. Otherwise…I’d rather be alone.”
“A woman like you? With your…uh, appetite? Don’t make me laugh.”
“I didn’t say celibate. I said alone,” she snickered.
“I see. So, I still stand a chance?”
She didn’t reply, but busied herself with chewing on a chocolate-covered strawberry. Does he still have a chance? Can I love him, really love him? Could he love me back? Doubtful.
“No answer?” He cocked an eyebrow at her.
“I’m thinking.” She gazed at him for a moment before turning back to her dessert. “Never say never, Gunther.”
“Ah. Reason to hope! I love it.” He took her hand and kissed it, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. “Always the flirt, always leading me on.”
Dorrie slipped from his grip and glanced out the window. The fasten seatbelts sign reappeared as the plane began its descent. The pilot’s voice came over the loudspeaker and conversation between them died. Gunther appeared more relaxed than he did during the takeoff but still his fingers gripped the armrest.
She slid her hand over his and rested her head on his shoulder. Any port in a storm? Gunther or no one? She snuggled down into him a little, remembering what a good fit they were physically. A whiff of his expensive cologne revived old feelings. Not going to be seduced by four-hundred dollar an ounce aftershave. Back to business. Still, I hate being alone.
She sat up, turning her thoughts to the next sequence to be filmed and posed a question to Gunther about the set design. She kept him talking until they landed. As they walked down the gangway, he took her hand, drawing her close to him. He kissed her hair and whispered, “Thanks.” She smiled up at him, her gait falling in with his as they made their way to the baggage claim area.
The ride from the airport, even in Gunther’s limo, took a long time. Traffic was heavy, as usual. She was restless, anxious to get back to her own bed and the tenuous security of her little apartment.
One roommate had a small role in a movie and was on location. The other one was working as an assistant to a set designer. They spent the evening catching up, and Dorrie retired early. She lay awake pondering her life. Three men is now four. Could I end up with Gunther again? What if he drops me? What about Archer? We’ve never slept together, would he make a commitment before we’ve even had sex? There’s something about him…I don’t know. Rick seemed so interested. We have chemistry. Will he fold me into his weekend houses, or will he quit them so we can be together?
Johnny. He’s a lost cause. Mad at me. But he already asked me to move in. Do I want to do that? No moving in without a commitment. Could I be happy with him? Why do I start fights with him all the time? Too much history.
I could do worse than Gunther, right? He cares about me, I think. Can he care about anyone? Her mind went round and round with question after question, but no answers. It wouldn’t shut off, causing her to toss and turn for two hours before falling into a fitful sleep.
The next morning, she dragged herself out of bed at seven to be at the studio at eight. Time to start preparations for the filming of the next dance sequence. No more location shots, she’d be in L.A. for the rest of the film. When she arrived, Gunther was there. He was all business, conferring with the director and set designer. Dorrie gathered the dancers and put them through vigorous warm-up exercises. Then, they had to wait.
They scattered, and she sat alone until Chaz joined her. They compared notes on the next routine to be shot. Chaz grabbed two lemonades from the catering table and handed one to Dorrie.
“Meg wanted me to ask if there was any news on the three guys.”
“Only Meg?” She cocked an eyebrow at him and smiled.
“Okay, okay. Me, too.” He blushed a becoming shade of pink.
“No news.” Don’t tell them about Gunther. They’ll flip out.
“Damn! This is more frustrating than reality TV, Dorrie. Make up your mind, girl.”
“Two weeks aren’t up yet.”
The assistant director called for quiet, and Chaz took his place. Dorrie watched him, glad to have her mind free of the dilemma facing her.
She sat back, allowing herself to be sucked into the scene. Chaz Duncan’s performance was brilliant. It wrapped after ten takes. Shooting three scenes took all day. The dance routine was postponed until the following day. Hurry up and wait. Typical.
Dorrie listened patiently to the dancers complain before she explained that this was not unusual in the movie business. She was grateful for having passed an entire day without obsessing over the men in her life. Three guys. No, four? No, three. Gunther is not in the running. She packed up her bag and headed to her car, waving goodbye to Gunther as she passed.
* * * *
The day was only half over for Gunther Quill as he watched Dorrie flee the set. He was used to long days while a movie was in progress. The longer the day, the more likely he was to come in on budget, or at least close. Today his mind wandered from the problems on the set to the lovely young woman he let get away three years ago.
Dorrie is still beautiful. May
be even more now that she has bigger breasts. Wonder if she’s the same firebird in bed? Probably.
Gunther tore his gaze away from her retreating form to peruse a list. He knew there would be a dinner meeting with the director and work perhaps late into the night to fix the problems with the set and lighting. He sighed. Problems, problems. Why don’t things ever run smooth? He thought about how much he’d prefer to be in bed with Dorrie than shoveling food in his mouth that he wouldn’t even taste because the meal would be edged with anxiety about the film.
He knew what he had to do, he had to make sure this movie was great and brought in a ton of box office receipts. He needed a big success, and he needed the money. His lifestyle had expanded into pricier categories fast. He wanted a fancier car, more Italian custom-made clothes, maybe a chauffeur, and expensive jewelry, gifts, and dinners for Elsa.
He had an image to maintain and that took bucks, big bucks. So as fast as the money came in, it was gobbled up by his richer tastes, and expanding needs. Not all of it, because he wasn’t a foolish man. But half his income disappeared almost as soon as it arrived.
Gunther needed to keep working and to have blockbusters, so he could bring in more cash. After each movie, he vowed to stop his wild spending, but he didn’t. His financial advisor had taken to removing half his disposable income and slamming it in investments before Gunther could fritter it away.
He and Elsa attracted attention from the media when they dined in expensive restaurants. She flashed the jewelry he gave her at every premiere. She was a good addition for a wealthy, successful producer. They’d laugh at Dorrie, with her simple tastes and shy ways. She’d never have been a real movie star. He shook his head and chuckled at his own naiveté. What made me think I could have molded her into an Elsa? I was a fool.
On the way to the parking lot, he thought about how much Dorrie was like Laurel. I didn’t notice it until she mentioned it on the plane. He’d never admit to her that she was right about him. When she had broken her ankle, he had been terrified she’d take the end of her career the same way Laurel did. And he was a coward, so he left her, dumped her so he wouldn’t feel responsible or have to face her devastation at giving up her lifelong dream.
Love's Last Chance Page 13
