He let go of me, and we got back in the car. As we drove home, it struck me how many families with children were on the road. I saw an elderly gentleman and a gray-haired lady sitting at a subway entrance, holding hands. Meanwhile, I was yearning so much to start a family with Nick, to raise children, and to grow old together. We loved each other. Why shouldn’t we be able to do it?
In the following weeks, I developed a constant fear for his safety. Every time I heard or saw an ambulance in the city, an icy shiver flashed through me. But Nick’s behavior was completely normal after our conversation, and eventually my uneasiness vanished, and I relaxed. Nick went running every morning, went to work, and though he was exhausted every evening, he was always happy to see me and acted like the carefree, well-balanced Nick I’d come to know.
I also had a lucky break professionally: A company that ran seminars asked if Chris and I could give some well-paid lectures on financial management in the coming year. We leapt at the chance, of course. We would share the dates so there would still be time for our clients.
A few days later Nick asked me to keep the next Friday evening open; we were going to dinner with his agent.
“She wants to meet you, darling. She somehow heard through the grapevine that I had a steady, and now she wants to know how we plan to handle it.”
That was a very good question. I recalled Hanna’s words about Nick’s fame, and I knew I had no desire to see my private life disseminated by gossip magazines. Did business-obsessed Mira maybe think that Nick and I would hold a press conference in front of the Munich city hall about how we spent our free time and about our sexual proclivities?
Fortunately, Nick saw it the same way I did. “Not to worry, we’ll make it clear that our private life must be kept out of the public eye as much as possible.”
Chapter 9
It had been a hot day, and the weather report predicted a storm front that night. Hanna had left that morning to visit her sister in Vienna for a couple of weeks. She’d filled the entire freezer with precooked meals so we wouldn’t starve in her absence.
When I suggested we could look after ourselves during her trip, she dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “Don’t talk nonsense. You can’t cook. If it were left up to you turtle doves, you’d live off air and love. Or you’d go on getting that greasy meat from the Chinese restaurant.”
She magnanimously ignored the fact that the sushi we occasionally took out from a deli had no trace of meat.
By the time Nick and I left the house to meet Mira, the sun had ducked behind thick, yellowish, shimmering cumulus clouds and it was very humid. Though I’d had a cold shower half an hour earlier, and wore only a light summer jacket over a thin blouse, I started to sweat immediately. We were to meet Mira in the restaurant of the elegant Bayrischer Hof, and the uniformed valet was visibly tickled to be allowed to park Nick’s car in the underground garage.
I was curious to meet Mira, who had worked with Nick since his acting career began. When we entered the restaurant, a dignified, gray-haired waiter escorted us to a reserved table in the sumptuously furnished restaurant. Our hostess was already at the table.
I was surprised when I saw Mira. The flesh-and-blood Mira did not match my mental image of her in any way. I’d imagined she looked like a hard-bitten, efficient, tough woman in a business pantsuit; instead a small, delicate, blonde woman in her early forties stood up. She wore a plain white short-sleeved blouse and a dark-blue wraparound skirt. She looked a bit like a boarding-school girl in uniform as she beamed at Nick with genuine pleasure. The smile on her dainty doll-like face turned to something closer to a grimace when she extended her hand toward me. I rarely found someone unlikable at first glance, but Mira exuded an inexplicable, but almost tangible arrogance and steeliness in spite of her girlish appearance. I felt as if I were being graciously presented to the Queen, who expected me to sink into a deep bow on the spot. Nick’s arm around my waist and his proud smile when he introduced me gave me some self-confidence. I had no plans to submit to this little Barbie doll with a steel core. Instead, I drew myself up—enjoying the rare occasion when I could look down on someone—and took her hand briefly. We both immediately let go, as if we’d accidentally grasped a stove element.
“Laura, how nice to finally meet you. Nick tells me so many marvelous things about you.”
I didn’t believe a word that came out of her mouth. Her insincere smile didn’t extend to her coolly staring gray eyes as she scanned me from head to toe. She immediately gave Nick a hearty hug, and he didn’t notice the dismissive look she gave me.
Throughout the excellent Asian meal, Nick acted delighted that his agent and girlfriend got along so well. We were carefully polite to one another. And Mira, to Nick’s astonishment, agreed completely with our opinion that we shouldn’t trumpet our love story about.
“It’s enough for Nick to just answer a direct question with a statement that he’s committed for the moment, but I don’t think it’s necessary to involve you, Laura, in interviews or things like that.”
She looked over at Nick and spoke to him as if I’d just disappeared into the washroom. “Best if you don’t show any photos of her, either, and she stays away from your shoots. Then you’ll both have your peace and quiet.”
But I had some inkling about her real intentions. She wanted to downplay our relationship to make it appear like just another of his affairs that would end soon enough. My suspicions proved well founded. Nick got a phone call, and seeing that his father was calling, he excused himself to take the call outside.
He was hardly out of earshot when Mira flashed me a saccharine smile. “Laura, if I’ve judged correctly, you’re a reasonable person. It’s surely clear, I hope, that this . . . story with you and Nick won’t last too long? It hurts him, his image, his whole career. Nick’s fans are largely female, and they want him to be unattached or at most hooked up with a dream girl so they can dream themselves into her role, but on no account with an . . . an insurance agent.”
I flinched at the insult.
She pretended to hesitate before quite deliberately firing her next poisoned arrow. “Pardon me for speaking so bluntly, but you are by no means the sort of woman who’s right for Nick visually.”
Her malicious gaze dropped to my half-empty plate, and I had the feeling she was implying I was an overweight glutton. Nick and I had both chosen the Barbary duck breast in red Thai sauce with jasmine rice. Mira, who was skinny anyway, had only a mango-avocado salad, leaving half of it on her plate. How had Susann so beautifully phrased it? Humorless stick figures . . .
So I hadn’t been wrong about Mira’s evaluation. True, she didn’t look like a career-obsessed, calculating, heartless snake, but that was still her character. Not for one second did I buy it that she had Nick’s well-being in mind. She had her eyes fixed on his market value, and I jeopardized that—and, as a result, her commissions as well. As I groped for a suitable retort to her malevolent attack, out of the corner of my eye I saw Nick coming back to our table. His affectionate smile at me was balm on my severely wounded self-esteem. Mira had seen him, too, and gave him a friendly smile.
“I give you maybe one to two weeks before he loses interest in you,” she hissed at me an instant before the object of her fake concern sat down between us with an unsuspecting smile.
I made it through the rest of the evening only because Nick always included me in the conversation and held my hand. And because Mira didn’t get another opportunity to prick my injured self-confidence again. I’d totally lost my appetite for the delicious dessert I’d ordered, melon with coconut cream. While I halfheartedly poked around at my plate, Nick and Mira discussed offers for parts, and commissions and wages. I swallowed at hearing the dizzying sums they mentioned. If it wasn’t before, it was now crystal clear that Nick had worked to buy his own car. He didn’t have to beg his father for a single euro—he could afford a whole garage filled
with sports cars if he wanted.
Mira’s doll face twisted in a sneer when I automatically asked Nick if he had sufficient insurance coverage. I could have hit myself over the head for my unconsidered remark in the presence of his shrewd agent.
Before he could open his mouth, she lectured me: “Important and expensive insurances are of course included in every film production. Everyone working on set is insured. You don’t have to worry your clever little head about that. All the necessary agreements are included in every one of Nick’s contracts.”
Nick laughed, unconcerned. “Mira, it’s Laura’s job to worry about money matters. And I don’t think it’s such a bad idea to have her go through future contracts before I sign them.”
I could see she thought the idea absolutely crazy but didn’t want to contradict Nick directly.
She waved the waiter over with a sweet-and-sour smile to ask for the bill before she said, turning to Nick, “We’ll see. Nothing’s ready to sign at the moment.”
I knew she’d jump off a bridge before she’d let me in on Nick’s business affairs, so I decided to save myself the trouble of any further meetings with my boyfriend’s agent. This woman was poison for my peace of mind. It didn’t raise my spirits when Nick and I got into the car and he talked approvingly about Mira and her unerring nose for good roles and the professional way she handled the press. I kept silent. I didn’t want to drive a wedge between him and their work together, but when he put his right arm around me and gently stroked my cleavage with his fingertips through my shirt, I wasn’t the least bit responsive. Mira’s inexplicable aversion to me and her snide remark about my “clever little head” gnawed at me. I was cross that Nick hadn’t defended me more firmly. But what was eating me even more was her aside that Nick would soon grow tired of me.
“Not now,” slipped unthinkingly out of my mouth, and I pushed his hand away.
“You earn a hell of a lot of money right now, Nick,” I said sharply. “This might sound terribly bourgeois, but have you thought about what might happen if you can’t work because of an accident, for example, or for a very long time or, God forbid, permanently? Do you have any sort of pension or plans for your old age?”
I immediately regretted my unceremonious rejection of his affection and my direct financial questions. Nick pulled his arm away abruptly; his cheerful face grew dark as he clutched the wheel with both hands again.
“Laura, do you really want to spoil this lovely evening with this boring subject? I know it’s your work. But Mira, unlike you, is soft as butter as far as financial matters are concerned.” He spoke louder. “Don’t worry about me. If I do have an accident it will be one where I don’t need to worry about professional disability.”
I was taken completely off-guard by his bitterness and horrified at his last sentence. He looked away from the road for a second, and his eyes blazed angrily at me.
“And years ago I took out a lot of life insurance. I’ll have you declared the beneficiary so you’ll have something if I kick the bucket. Is that a sufficient answer to your question? Now may I touch you again?”
An icy hand grasped my heart. I was in shock; I couldn’t believe he thought I was going for his money rather than understanding my concerns. At the same time, he wouldn’t hear a word against Mira, who did earn money off him. I didn’t want to be in a car for one more second with somebody who assumed I wanted to make money off his death. My eyes burned; I pressed my lips together and didn’t answer. My hand clutched the door handle. A few seconds later he had to stop for a red light, and I unfastened my seat belt, opened the door, and got out, unconcerned about Nick’s shock or his bellowing. Grasping my handbag, I made my way, amid the honking, through the stopped rush-hour traffic to the other side of the street and didn’t turn back. Thick, dark, threatening storm clouds were gathering, mirroring my mood, and I heard the first roll of thunder in the distance. I trembled with rage and was in despair over Nick’s unusual, brusque manner. To ensure he wouldn’t think of following me, I raced blindly down the nearest subway stairs.
One and a half hours later I was in my apartment in Haar for the first time in weeks. I missed Nick terribly. The storm front moved with full force directly over the building. I could hear the eerie rustling of the treetops as I sat on the couch in the dark, filled with despair and sadness. Every minute lightning bolts lit up the dark room, followed by loud thunderclaps.
As I’d ridden home on the subway, I’d mulled over what exactly had happened during the evening. I still wasn’t over Nick’s angry insinuation that I was after his money, but I tortured myself with guilt for getting so enraged by Mira and as a result speaking so thoughtlessly and insensitively to Nick. He’d done nothing but been affectionate with me, and I’d pushed him off and gone on about mundane things like retirement planning! Obviously, it insulted him deeply, and he said in anger things he didn’t really believe. I was also afraid about what my hasty exit might have done to Nick. I hoped he’d come to me so we could talk it out and make up, but hour after hour went by without him calling or showing up. I repeatedly checked my cell phone. When I couldn’t stand it anymore, I texted him. I no longer gave a damn about which of us had more reason to apologize. I was worried about him.
Nick, I’m dreadfully sorry. I didn’t want to make you angry. Please call. I love you. Laura.
I called his number constantly, and each time I got voice mail. By midnight I still hadn’t heard from him. My tears welled up once again. Was he ignoring me because of our absolutely stupid quarrel? Was this the ugly end of our wonderful love affair? Mira popped into my mind. She’d rejoice at achieving her goal so unexpectedly soon. I was on the point of calling a taxi to go to the garage in Grünwald where my car was. I wanted to make sure that Nick got back. At that moment the ring tone on my cell broke the unbearable silence. In a single bound I grabbed my phone from my countertop and answered, gasping for breath. It was Nick. His voice sounded odd, low and weak, and I could hear his car motor humming in the background.
“Laura, if you want to see me, then come to the grove near your place where we went for a walk.” He was breathing heavily. “And make it fast.”
I shouted desperately into the phone, “Nick, where exactly are you? And how can I get there? My car’s at your place!”
A click at the other end—he’d simply hung up. I called him back immediately, but he didn’t pick up. In a panic, I grabbed my jacket, keys, and phone, and ran down to get my bike from the shed behind the building. I dreaded those few miles on the pitch-black country road through wind, thunder, and sheet lightning. But I was seized by an indescribable fear for Nick. He’d sounded so strangely calm and yet very different from his usual self.
I pounded the pedals like a madwoman and made it to the grove in record time. The thunder and lightning had moved on, and now it was raining hard. I was soaked right through. I breathed more easily when I saw Nick’s car parked on the edge of the woods, and I wondered why the motor and headlights were on but the interior was dark. I ditched my bike beside the car and tore the door open—fortunately, it wasn’t locked.
Nick had collapsed on the driver’s seat, his head rolled to one side. I bent down and reached past him to turn off the ignition. The motor came to an abrupt stop. My shouts rang through the awful stillness. I shook Nick and slapped him in the face in despair when he didn’t react. I was relieved to hear a soft groan. I sat down on the passenger seat and turned on the overhead light. I immediately spied the cause of Nick’s condition: two blister packs of pills (one full, one empty) and a half-empty water bottle beside them. I shook him by the shoulder again. He gradually came to and looked at me in a daze. His eyes flickered in recognition and then relief.
“Laura, you really came . . . I waited,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
“Nick, for God’s sake, what have you taken? I’ve got to call an ambulance!”
I frantically rooted around for my phon
e in the pocket of my sunshine-yellow summer jacket, now totally ruined. I probably looked like a witch dragged from a swamp: My stockings were torn, the shirttails of my silk blouse were hanging out, strands of wet hair were all over my face, but I didn’t give a damn. I was enormously thankful to have found Nick in time and at the same time horrified that he had taken pills to end it all just because of a silly lovers’ quarrel.
His hand clutched my arm so tightly it hurt, and he looked feverishly at me as he managed to get out his words.
“A sleeping pill. I only took five before you got here. No ambulance. There’ll be trouble. They’ll stick me in the loony bin. Or tip off the press. Just get me home.”
My thoughts were racing, confused. He looked very dopey but seemed fairly clearheaded. I assumed five pills weren’t life threatening, given his size and weight. I could understand his desire for discretion. In the hospital somebody on the staff might recognize him and leak it to the press. But how to get him home? I’d never driven the Corvette, in spite of his occasional offers to teach me. Four hundred horsepower was decidedly too much for me. Besides, there were seven gears, and I was guaranteed to pick the wrong one and wreck the motor. But there was nothing else I could do unless we were to spend the night here in the woods. It was only a mile or two to my apartment. The first problem was how to get Nick out of the driver’s seat and into the passenger seat. He still wasn’t quite all there, and while the seats were low, the console was high. My attempts at pulling, shoving, and wrenching finally worked and I buckled him in and got behind the wheel, shaking with fear. I just wanted to get away from that gloomy place. One thought kept pounding through my head in an endless loop: Why did Nick pick this place for his insane act—the place where we had our first kiss? These two events would be inseparably linked in my mind for the rest of my life.
Afterward, I couldn’t remember how I managed to get the car from the path onto the street. After some fits and starts, I got the car to jerk ahead, and then gently stepped on the accelerator as if I had an egg under my foot, creeping ahead in first and second gear at a snail’s pace. I was relieved as hell that nobody else was on the road.
November Sky Page 9
