"Is he remarried?"
"No, I hear he’s going with someone, but I think he’s probably afraid to get married again."
"What about you?"
"Am I afraid? No. But my ideas about marriage and relationships in general have changed, are still changing." The pain of her encounter with Dane Pierce was still fresh and she had vowed privately to never again give herself to another man until she was sure she truly loved and was loved. It was old-fashioned, she admitted, but right for her nonetheless. "People are too fast these days. Things happen too fast, people race through life without finding out first if they’re enjoying it." She paused again, choosing her words carefully. "Right now, I’m not in the mind frame of being serious anyway."
Mac smiled. The look on his face told her he was in agreement, but she felt uncomfortable and opted to change the subject.
"So, how old is your daughter?"
"Megan is five going on fifteen."
Jessica saw the love in his eyes as he spoke fondly of his little girl, whom, she discovered, he visited every other weekend without fail. Divorced, but devoted.
Mac again turned his face into the breeze. "We have to start back. Fog’s coming in."
~ * ~
"Another costume fitting? I’ve already had more costume changes than there are scenes in this film." Jessica hung up the phone and made the now-familiar drive to the wardrobe department. Once there, she complained to the tailor. "I’ve already tried this on."
"There’s uh, been some changes, miss." Some more pins, some more tucks. Impatiently she accommodated the embarrassed seamstress, finally tumbling out the door and down the steps toward her car. Deep in thought, she nearly collided with Dane as he approached the shop himself.
"Jessica!" He grabbed her arms to steady her. Chills immediately rippled over her back, and she caught her breath. Pausing to gain her composure, she took a step backward.
"Hello, Dane. Don’t tell me they haven’t got your costumes right yet either?" She tried to sound light, cool, aloof.
"No…do you have a few minutes? Can you wait--I’ll only be a moment, we could get some coffee…" Jessica didn’t answer. Instead she looked down. "Please?" Dane caressed her forearms affectionately; his touch was effective.
"Dane, I don’t think…" she began.
"Just ten minutes."
She sighed and nodded reluctantly. She sat on the hood of her car and waited while he raced into the shop. He was back in moments. They walked to the cafe on the corner, where he put on tinted glasses hoping to deter gawkers. With coffee before them, she asked what he wanted to talk about.
"First, business. Your contract’s been signed. Your agent drove a hard bargain."
Jessica winced to think of young, gay Teddy facing Dane’s tough negotiators and demanding some outrageous price.
"He asked us for…a significant sum," Dane sipped his steaming coffee. "But I held out for twice what he wanted."
Jessica stared at Dane. "You’re joking, of course." Her eyes widened as he shook his head. She grabbed his arm. "Oh, Dane, I don’t know what to say!"
"Say…you’re not angry with me anymore."
Jessica lowered her eyes. "You can’t buy forgiveness, darling." I hope I looked like Garbo saying that, she thought. Despite the rebuff, Dane pulled off the dark glasses and the green eyes sparkled from his tired, unshaven face.
"I know you can’t understand why I haven’t been in touch. Please believe my intentions were not what they seemed; I did warn you, you know," he said heavily.
"I know. Okay." Her agreement sounded half-hearted, too easy, and it was. The truth was, she didn’t think she would ever allow herself to trust Dane again, but that didn’t change the tremendous attraction she felt nor the unbidden sympathy that rose every time she thought about his life and his problems. Maybe they could be friends of a sort. As long as she kept him at arm’s length.
He walked her back to the car.
"I’m glad I ran into you. I’ve called you a few times, Jess, but--I refuse to talk to machines. I guess the tailor is as good a place to meet as any." It was small talk, but something in his voice tipped her off; he had arranged the redundant fitting to create a convenient coincidence. She started to accuse, to let the anger surface, but her heart couldn’t help feeling just a little flattered, touched by the fact that he’d made the effort to force an encounter.
The sky was overcast, and a chilly breeze blew. For the first time since their night together, she allowed herself to really look at him closely.
"Dane, you’re too thin…" she began. He looked down the street, running his fingers through his hair. As though driven by some unseen force, she reached out and gently placed her hand on his chest, slightly inside the leather jacket. Still avoiding her eyes, he quietly responded.
"You know I don’t eat when I’m working a film." He lifted his hands and placed them on her shoulders, then slowly slid one across her back while the other gently pressed her head to his chest. His heart beat in rhythm with hers, and she closed her eyes as his fingers massaged her head. He lowered his chin near her ear and his voice was tight with emotion. "I’m spending Christmas Eve with my kids."
Tears sprang to her eyes and she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. "Oh Dane, that’s wonderful," she managed to whisper, then pulled her face up to his. She kissed him briefly on the cheek and offered a quick "Merry Christmas," then hurried into her car and drove away. With tears rolling down her cheeks, Jessie watched him in her rear-view mirror as he walked slowly back to his car. So much for keeping him at arm’s length.
~ * ~
Christmas came and went with a minimum of revelry. Jessica spent the holiday with Roxanne and her family, who lived in nearby Pasadena. A couple of tearful phone calls put her in touch with her sister, mother and brother, and she only briefly mourned days past when holidays were spent as a family.
She was a live wire the day of the premiere. Despite her bit part in Bellerive, she was already known in Hollywood as the starlet who had landed the plum role in Lost Season. During the week, she’d received offers from both Ralph Lauren and Christian Dior to wear their gowns. She jokingly told Teddy she was holding out for a Gianni Versace, but everyone knew Roxanne was hard at work on a fabulous dress.
Mac had graciously accepted the invitation to escort her, but had complained about having to wear a tuxedo twice in one month.
"But you looked so dashing!" she teased him from the kitchen, where she was putting away clean dishes. She could see him across the living room, standing in the bathroom shaving. He leaned close to mirror, shirtless and in cut-off jeans, and Jessica quietly admired his well-toned form. He’s built like a lifeguard, she thought fleetingly.
"Dashing is not a description I strive to be," Mac hollered back, patting his face with a towel and emerging from the bathroom. She leaned on the counter and sighed.
"You could go just like that," she suggested, smiling.
"Only if you dress accordingly." He sat on the couch and picked up the remote for the TV. "Do I have time to watch the bike races from Paris?"
"That depends. How long are they on?"
"All weekend?" He smiled his sweetest, revealing his normally hidden dimples, and she threw a dishtowel at him.
"You have one hour before we have to leave."
They were comfortable with the easy friendship that had developed between them, each looking for no more or less. She assumed he saw other women, and he had never asked her about the incident with Dane Pierce.
~ * ~
The premiere was glamorous, the party even more so. Most of Hollywood’s "A" list attended, and Jessica was having a grand time. She and Mac made quite a handsome couple, and the room virtually buzzed with speculation about them. Jessica’s dress alone was worth a cover story, a lacy, white evening gown resplendent with patterns of hanging, sparkling, miniature beads sewn over all; a choker-style satin collar met with a sheer voile, modestly (but not too effectively) covering a plunging
bodice, sewn with hanging, iridescent bugle beads and discreetly cut away to expose her shoulders; the back was the same, filmy material, and twenty tiny buttons made a trail from the nape of her neck to her waist. Mac had sighed deeply as she had emerged from the bedroom, which Jessica felt was far more exciting than a whistle.
~ * ~
Dane Pierce was in rare form. Animated, in control, he exhibited none of the vulnerability of their last meeting. Definitely the "man of the hour," he escorted Merrily to the premiere and the party, pausing for numerous photo opportunities; many of these featured the two of them kissing. Ever the promoter, thought Jessica with disdain. The feelings of rejection resurfaced. That should be me.
Her defense was to drink something strong, something that would take the edge off the pain. She did, and did again, and Roxie exchanged a concerned look with Mac as they stood in a small group at the bar. The timing couldn’t have been worse for Dane to approach them.
"Well, I’ve been upstaged again," he said with a smile. "You are sheer dynamite in that dress, Jessica."
"On the contrary Dane, you look dazzling, wearing Merrily."
Nearby, Zachary laughed aloud, and Roxie elbowed him in the ribs. Dane stared at Jessica for what seemed to the others an uncomfortable eternity. Mac moved in close behind her and slipped his hands around her waist, holding her steady. Feeling his presence, she subtly leaned back against him, and he discreetly supported her without so much as a sigh.
Dane ultimately chose to ignore her comment, instead taking her hand warmly. "I’m looking forward to beginning Lost Season. It will be a…wonderful experience working with you again." He smiled and a strobe flash fixed them eternally on film for some bold photographer. Both Dane and Mac shot looks of displeasure at the photog, who was immediately hustled away by a bouncer in black tie.
"I’ll just bet you are," Jessica replied bitterly, as Merrily rejoined her escort and wrapped her arms around him affectionately.
As they turned away, Jessica found the floor was moving under her feet. "Mac¾ take me home, please," she whispered, turning and drawing her arms around his neck. "I can’t stay here."
"I can see that," he replied. He quickly scanned the room for a side exit and found one. "Roxie, stay with Jess while I bring the car to that door."
Roxie nodded and placed her arm around her friend. "Jessie, hang on to this one, honey," she advised. But Jessie could see only Dane’s face before her, sharing his lips with someone else. Mac was soon at her side and carefully directed her to the car.
~ * ~
"I’m not so very drunk, Mac. Just hurting." She spoke quietly, and did indeed sound pained.
"I know babe, just hang in there ‘til we get home."
Soon he was lifting her from the car and carrying her to the bedroom, where he sat her down on the bed. She started to lie down, but he stopped her. "No, not yet you don’t. Stand up. Jessica, stand up." She obeyed but swayed dizzily against him. Gently, painstakingly, he unbuttoned the spangled gown and slid it down past her slender hips, where she dutifully stepped out of it. He spied her dressing gown on the bed and patiently threaded her arms into it, leaving her strapless bra, slip and pantyhose in place. She flopped back onto the bed while he carefully hung up the expensive dress. Then he left the room.
Jessica’s head was spinning, and she could hear the clatter of kitchen cabinet doors and pans; what in the world was he doing, eating while she was dying? He soon returned with a steaming cup of herb tea.
"Here, drink this." Sliding his arm around her, he helped her to sit up.
"No. I’ll get sick."
"Jess, drink it. It’ll make you feel better, honest."
"It smells like poison. If it is poison, I’ll drink it."
"Drink it."
She sipped the liquid and her eyes flew open. "This is horrible!"
"Good, then I made it right. Drink it all, Jessie." Mac’s voice was gentle, but firm.
Sure enough, she soon felt better. Her head was hurting, but the nausea and dizziness had subsided.
She leaned over her lap, covering her face with her hands. "Mac, I’m so sorry. I’m so ashamed. It was a rotten thing to do. And stupid, and…" She began to weep quietly.
He stood in front of her and began tugging at his tie, removing it.
"So, Pierce’s got your number. Big deal. You’ll get over it." He tossed the tie onto the dresser and began working on the tiny, jeweled tuxedo buttons.
"How do you know?" she moaned.
"Because I know. I know he’s a womanizer and you’re a baby, and it happens all the time in this business. It’ll pass." There was no sympathy in his voice. If anything, it was thinly veiled anger she was hearing.
"Mac, I really cared about him." New tears slid down her cheeks.
The shirt was off, but she was too miserable to wonder or care if he was going to continue with the pants. He hung up the shirt, and responded, his tone guarded and tight. "I would hope you care something about someone you’re sleeping with."
His comment made her stop crying and sit up. "How did you know? Did you read that in Variety too?" she asked bitterly.
Mac parted his lips and then closed them, sitting down on the bed before responding. "How could I not know?" He looked at his hands, and spoke slowly. "Look, Jessie, I know this sounds trite, but where you’re at…I’ve been there myself, and not long ago. I hate to see you hurting like this. But I can’t tell you what to do, or how to feel. Only you can control your life."
Jessica’s anger melted as quickly as it had formed. Mac was right, but she could hardly imagine him going through the turmoil she was experiencing. She stared at him questioningly.
"Her name is Lauren Winter," he began, standing up and stepping into her bathroom to change out of his tuxedo trousers. "She’s twenty-four and gorgeous." He returned, now back in the cut-offs. "But she’s a user. She wants me to be available all the time, but she can’t be available to me. One minute she’s all over me, then she’ll disappear for days." He shrugged. "I told her I’m not looking for any big commitments, and that’s a fact. I can barely handle the ones I have." Mac paused, pulling a clean T-shirt out of his bag and over his head. "But, I expect a reasonable level of fidelity…"
"Is she an actress?" Jessica asked, rounding out an impression in her mind.
"She’s a wanna-be. I think she’d do just about anything to get in."
"Do you love her?"
Mac didn’t answer, instead going to the window and pulling open the louvered blinds. In the distance, fireworks lit the night sky.
"Happy New Year," he muttered, and left the room, closing her door behind him.
Part Two: Friends…And Lovers
Four
Roommates
Jessica awoke with the sun in her eyes and reached up in vain for the wand on the window blind. She rolled out of bed and stumbled in to the bathroom.
"Oh God," she exclaimed at the mirror, her image a mess of tear-streaked make-up and matted hair. She looked down at her robe and remembered the night before. With a groan, she fell into the shower and took a long, hot rinse, hoping to purge the depression of the previous night.
After several minutes of half-hearted primping, she was reasonably satisfied, and went to the kitchen to start some coffee. She was filling the pot with water when the front door opened, startling her so badly she dropped the pot into the sink. Mac, breathing hard, was returning from a run, his shirt wet and his hair curling around his face.
"Good morning," he said, leaning against the doorjamb while catching his breath. "What’s for breakfast?"
Jessica stared at him in stunned silence.
"Well…just decaf would be fine," he said, noticing the pot in her hand, which had miraculously remained intact. He turned and trotted into the bathroom where she heard the shower start and the remote, off-key hum of his voice as he sang.
She went to the refrigerator. No eggs. No bacon. No ham. None of the things men liked for breakfast. She sighed, suddenly
annoyed and tired. "Well, he’ll just have to eat what I eat if he doesn’t warn me he’s staying the night," she said to herself in exasperation. She threw out an expired pear but found two passable apples and a nearly ripe imported peach which she sliced into a large salad bowl, adding some diced pineapple from a can, then threw some store bought blueberry muffins into the toaster oven.
Moments later, Mac stuck his head out the bathroom door. "Jessie, I don’t eat bacon or sausage and such," he hollered across the room. "Please don’t go to a lot of trouble." And as an afterthought, "but I could use some hot coffee after this cold shower."
Jessie smiled, her earlier irritation evaporating. Mac was a funny guy, and despite her glimpse of his dark mood the night before, it was somehow comforting to know that this new friend was not always so perfect, happy and content.
They dined on the patio balcony. "This is great," he remarked. "I love fruit for breakfast."
~ * ~
Jessie was surprised. "I figured you for steak and eggs."
Mac grimaced. "Too much cholesterol. I want to live to tell stories to my grandchildren."
No mention was made of the night before. Neither seemed interested in recalling the pain each had suffered for different reasons.
Soon, Mac gathered his gear and she walked him to his car, parked beside hers in the garage. "I really appreciate you letting me dress here last night. My bathroom is currently under blue sky, and the roofers haven’t even shown up yet."
"No problem. It must be rough living there right now."
"Truth is, I’ve been sleeping on Bill’s couch for a week," he rubbed his neck demonstratively, "and now I’m told it might be another month."
"Mac, that’s awful," Jessica sympathized.
"I’ve got to get some lodging arranged. I’ll probably end up taking a room at the Hilton," he said, throwing his bag into the trunk of the BMW.
Starcrossed Hearts Page 6
