by Joachim Jean
Anger bubbled up inside Grace until she thought she’d explode, right in the restaurant. Her lips compressed into a thin line, she tried to smile at the server but couldn’t. Take it easy. Don’t kill George. Stand up for yourself. You’re the screenwriter. The salad looked beautiful, but her appetite had gone south. “If you’re suggesting I sleep with you to get the script done, forget it. Never. No way.”
“I’m disappointed. Gunther told me—”
“I don’t care what Gunther told you. He’s a liar. I’m in a relationship, and even if I weren’t, I’d never sleep with a colleague to get the job done. I’m not a hooker or a whore, George, and I resent your insinuations that I am.”
George raised his palms to her. “Well, excuse me! Sorry. Gunther told me you were ripe for…game for…a good time. Guess I got it wrong.”
“You sure did.” Hunger broke through her ire. A smile of satisfaction tugged at her lips. To cover her triumph, Grace tore into the shrimp salad. Hah! Spoke up! Take that, you asshat creep.
They ate in silence for a while. “If you change your mind…” he began, slicing off a piece of steak.
“What would Max Webster say if he knew you propositioned me?”
“I assume Max is a sophisticated guy who knows how these things—”
“Max is a devoted family man. I don’t think he’d like it at all.”
His face grew several shades paler. “You’re not going to tell him, are you?”
“Give me one good reason…”
“I need this job.”
“Yeah? And I need a great screenplay. If you got where you are by sleeping with people, maybe you can’t deliver.”
“Oh, I can. I’m good. I’m very good. Have you seen a list of my credits?”
“Perhaps Max should’ve let me interview you before he hired you. I might have to tell him you won’t do.” She stared at him.
He began to sweat. “Please. I’m sorry. I won’t do that again.”
“And see that you stop spreading ugly rumors about me started by Gunther Quill.”
“I will. I promise. My lips are sealed. Please don’t get me fired.”
“Time will tell. You’d better produce, George. Or you’ll be replaced, like that!” She snapped her fingers.
They finished lunch with a minimum of conversation and returned to the conference room. The rest of the day was spent reading aloud, discussing, arguing, and rearranging scenes. There was no more talk of sexual collaboration. George was all business.
When Grace returned home with a bag of groceries, she toed off her shoes and poured herself a glass of wine. Sitting on the deck by the pool, she checked the time. Damn! Eight o’clock in New York. Curtain’s up.
After making her dinner, reading the latest issue of Celebs ’R Us and the LA Times, she glanced at her watch. Eleven o’clock in New York! She dialed Jake’s number and stretched out on the sofa.
Grace told Jake all about George.
“You told him no right?”
“Of course! How can you even ask?” She bolted upright.
“Just making sure.”
“Faithful to you all the way. Besides, I don’t do hook-ups. And George is definitely not my type…sleazy scumbag.”
“If I was there, I’d punch him out. Bastard. Making a pass at my girl.” She heard the anger in his voice.
“I handled him. In the afternoon, he was all business.”
“I’m proud of you.”
A broad smile spread across her face. “Really?”
“You’re standing up for yourself, as you should.”
“How was the show?”
“Fine. Good audience tonight. They got the jokes. What are you wearing?”
She quickly disrobed. “Uh…nothing?”
“Really?”
“Yep.” She could hear his breath catch for a second.
“I can picture that. Hell, yeah. I can see you.”
“What about you?”
“Boxers.”
“Take ’em off.”
“Aye, aye, captain.” She heard him put the phone down. “Naked here.”
“Good. That’s the way I like you.”
“Hey, that’s my line.”
Grace laughed.
“I wish you were here, Gracie. Miss you so much.”
“Miss you, too.”
“Work hard. Finish your script and come home to me.”
Home, the way he says it. Sounds so wonderful. “I will,” she whispered. “Love you, Jake.”
“Love you back…more,” he said. They both kissed into the mouthpiece and hung up.
Grace sighed as the ache in her heart pounded. “Work hard? I will, Jake. I will.” She dragged herself to the bedroom and slipped under the sheet. Sleep came quickly.
* * * *
Once Grant’s divorce was final, Cara set the date for their wedding. June fifteenth was reserved at Limoges. Grace found herself on the phone daily with Cara to discuss the menu, guest list, and what she should wear. The two sisters spoke so often, sometimes Grace had a hard time focusing on her script. But George cracked the whip and together they hammered out a workable screenplay that Max gave his approval to by the end of May.
Poised to call Jake and tell him she was coming back, her phone rang. She glanced at the display. It said Max Webster.
“Hi, Max. What’s up?”
“Great job with George on the screenplay. Still have a couple of bumps, but we can work with the director on those.”
“Good. Can I come back to New York now?”
“Not yet. I’m coming out there for casting meetings. We want you to be in on the process, Grace.”
“How long will that take?”
“Couple of months, tops. If we’re lucky. Negotiations and scheduling can be tricky.”
Grace heaved a sigh.
“Something wrong, Gracie?”
“I was planning to return to the city. See Jake, Cara…”
“We’re giving you some time off for Cara’s wedding. Isn’t that enough?”
“I guess.”
“Don’t you want to be involved in this?” She heard the note of irritation in his voice.
“Of course. Of course, I do. Max, please. This comes first. I get that.”
“Good. Don’t forget it.”
“I won’t. How much time for the wedding?”
“Figure two weeks should be enough.”
“So when can I leave?”
“Hmm…I believe I have you booked on a flight at three this afternoon. It’s eleven now, better hurry.”
“Max! You’re a doll! Thank you!” She heard him chuckle before she hung up. There was no time to call Jake. I’ll surprise him! She laughed as she threw clothes into her suitcase. Won’t Cara be pleased?
The flight seemed to take longer than usual. Grace squirmed in her seat, unable to sit still. Max had booked her first class. Better not get used to this. She drank champagne instead of napping. Word puzzles, books, magazines, newspapers—nothing held her attention for long. Goddard Towns, a well-known character actor, sat next to her, and his banter kept her entertained until they touched down.
Grace checked her watch. Eleven forty-five. Go right to the apartment. Grace patted her pocket as the cab wended its way through the New York City highways on route to the Upper West Side. She found her key and sat back, smiling, watching the sky light up as the nightlife shifted into high gear. How surprised Jake is going to be!
Once inside the building, Grace lugged her suitcase up the stairs, excitement flowing through her veins. Just in time for bed! Chuckling at the idea, she kept trudging upward, stair after stair, flight after flight. She’d forgotten how long it took to arrive on the third floor of this walk-up. She fitted the key in the lock and turned.
Opening the door, her gaze fell on a sight she never expected—a slinky brunette with her arms around Jake’s neck.
* * * *
“What the hell?” Grace dropped her bag.
“Gr
ace! What are you doing here?”
“Visiting you. But I can see you’re busy.” She turned to go but Jake broke free from the woman, grabbed her arm, and spun her around. He drew her into his embrace and hugged her tight. She pushed against his arms, but he wouldn’t let go.
“Gracie, honey, I’m so glad to see you.”
She stiffened. “Who’s this?”
“I’m Traci. We go way back.”
“Who?” When Jake loosened his grip, Grace finally stepped away and cast a jaundiced eye at the girl.
“Traci is my former girlfriend.”
“The one who broke your heart? Who dumped you?”
Jake blushed and nodded.
“Oops. Sorry. Guess I wasn’t supposed to tell the truth.”
“I can explain,” Jake started.
Grace scowled at Traci. “What are you doing here, and how long have you been here?”
“I just got here. Honestly…”
“Show didn’t finish until ten thirty, Gracie…”
“I know. Go on,” she snapped.
“I came to see Jake because…well, maybe I was hasty. I mean, maybe I made a mistake.” Traci fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.
“Trying to get back together?”
“Yeah.” She cast her gaze to the floor and shifted her weight.
“And what did he say?”
“I…”
“Shhhh…let her tell me!” Grace put her finger on his lips.
“He told me he had you, and he wasn’t interested. Then he said a few unpleasant things…accused me of…well, returning because he’s famous now and stuff…and Jared is out of work. But it’s not true.”
“Not true?” She cocked an eyebrow at the interloper.
“Honestly, Gracie, that’s what I said…”
“It’s okay, Jake. I believe you. What I mean is, I don’t believe the part about her saying she didn’t come back because you’re famous. That’s exactly why she came back.”
A sullen, hostile look swept over Traci’s face. “Who the hell are you to talk to me like that?”
“The woman who loves Jake.”
“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows at Grace. “Then why was he alone when I came?” She shifted her weight and rested her hand on her hip.
“Because I was in California. I trust Jake.” Dear God, I do still trust him, don’t I?
“Big mistake.”
“We have a pact.”
“Honey, don’t be naïve. He’s a man and men cheat. You’re a fool.” Her lips curled into a snarl.
“Who’s Jake’s love now, you or me?”
“And who else did he screw while you were away?”
“No one,” Jake piped up. “Grace and I talk every night. She knows I wouldn’t cheat.”
“You had him and tossed him out. Too bad. I think you should leave now,” Grace said, holding the door open. Traci shot an imploring look at Jake, but all she received was a cold stare.
“Go, Traci,” he said.
“Goodbye, Jake. It was fun.”
“Goodbye. Good luck.”
She stopped to kiss Jake on her way out.
“That’s not a woman, that’s a tiger.” Traci turned and walked down the hall, her high heels tapping out a saucy rhythm on the marble floor.
“You do believe me, don’t you, Grace?” His brow furrowed.
“Tell me all about it…don’t leave anything out,” she said, sinking down onto the sofa. Jake poured a glass of wine for them both then joined her and related the tale of the unexpected visitor from his past.
“You do believe me, don’t you?”
“I do.” She looked at him. With his hair hanging over his forehead and a concerned expression clouding his caramel-colored eyes, he looked more handsome than ever. He took her in his arms and kissed her long and deep.
“Are you here to stay?” He kept his arm around her.
“Nope. More meetings, casting stuff. Busy, busy.” Grace snuggled into him.
“How long will you be here?”
“Through the wedding…two weeks.” God it feels good to touch him.
“I’ll take what I can get. You’re staying with me, right?”
“If you want me.”
“You have to ask?” He stroked her hair.
Another kiss heated up the lovers, who began to undress each other, slowly at first then frantically as their passion burned out of control. Jake barely got the bed pulled out before their bouncing made the springs squeak.
After they made love, Grace reached for her phone. “Must call Cara.” Jake circled her wrist, stopping her before her fingers closed around the cell.
“Not tonight. Tomorrow. Tonight you’re all mine.” He kissed her neck.
“If you insist.”
“I do. Come here.” He pulled the covers down and slipped in first before bidding her to join him. Grace crawled up next to him and rested her head and hand on his chest. Heaven.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered.
“Me, too. I’m sorry about Traci.”
“Already forgotten.”
“Just us.”
“Just us.” A contented sigh sprang from her lips.
Jake turned out the light, and they drifted off to sleep woven together.
Chapter Thirteen
On her wedding day, Cara was a nervous wreck. She paced in the apartment. Grant had moved to a hotel the night before. Grace tried to calm her down.
“I’ve got a list, Carol Anne. Everything is checked off. Now you can relax.”
“Relax? Relax, you say? I don’t think so.” Cara continued to pace.
“Everything is done. The sun is shining. The food will be great. The musicians are the best. Let’s get you dressed.”
“Now?”
“That’s all that’s left. Dressing you and me. And Jake’s arrival.” Grace took her sister by the hand and led her into the bedroom.
She took the pure white dress from the closet and lifted the lightweight plastic bag. A straight, knee-length sheath in white silk taffeta with an over layer of white silk chiffon looked beautiful even on the hanger. The neckline was a wide scoop with a row of two-inch ruffles all the way around. Sleeveless was the most flattering style. Grace held the gown while Cara shed her robe and stepped into it.
“Just let me zip this up.” Grace pulled the zipper all the way from her sister’s behind to mid-back. She closed the little hook and eye. “Grant’s gonna have a helluva time getting this off you.”
“Hooks and zippers never stopped him before,” Cara snickered.
Grace placed the small headband covered with fresh gardenias and tiny pearls in her sister’s hair and pulled down the short veil. “Omg, Cara!”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“You look breathtaking!” Gracie’s eyes watered. “If only mom could be here for this.” They sank down on the bed. Try as they might, they couldn’t contain all their tears and a few slipped out. Gracie handed her sister a tissue and took one for herself.
“Pookie, you look gorgeous, too.” Cara remarked, eyeing the light turquoise silk empire-waisted dress that fell to Grace’s knees. Hers was also sleeveless and had a square neckline with lace edging.
Grace fastened her mother’s pearl choker around Cara’s neck. The bride pulled a blue garter up her thigh. “I think I’m ready.” The buzzer sounded. “That must be Jake and Bobby.”
Jake gasped when he saw the Brewster sisters. “Wow, you two look…awesome. Unbelievable.”
They grinned at him. Jake extended an arm to each lady, and they left the apartment. Grant had picked up Sarah, the flower girl dressed in a dress identical to Grace’s, earlier in the day. Jake wore his tux as he was giving the bride away.
Bobby drove them as close as he could to Limoges, parked the car, and joined them, since he and Peg were invited guests. Grace leaned over and whispered to Cara, “We’ll finally get to meet Bobby’s wife!”
Jean Marc greeted them at the door. “All the g
uests are here, sipping champagne. There are seventy-five, non?”
“Oui, seventy-five. Thank you,” Cara said, flashing him the blindingly brilliant smile that lit up movie screens across the country.
He escorted them to the room that Limoges reserved for private parties. The space had three walls of small panes of glass that looked out onto the gardens in Central Park. Pots of colorful geraniums had been placed outside and many arrangements of tulips, roses, and baby’s breath were set up inside. It looked gorgeous and smelled divine.
Jean Marc delivered a flute of the bubbly to Cara, Grace, and Jake. Bobby had joined his wife and the other guests. Cara’s hand shook as she tossed down her drink.
“You can’t be nervous marrying Grant!” Grace was surprised at her sister’s reaction.
“It’s not about marrying Grant. It’s about the performance. A wedding is like a show. What if something goes wrong? There’s no director or stage manager here to handle it.”
“I’m the director and stage manager rolled into one. If anything goes wrong, I’ll fix it. I promise.”
“What would I do without you, Pookie?”
“You gotta stop calling me that. I’m a professional screenwriter now.”
A few lights flashed. Cara had agreed to let Tiffany Cowles and one of her photographers attend the wedding. But the photographer had to leave before the reception. Jean Marc interrupted their conversation. He handed bouquets to each lady—pink flowers for Cara, white for Grace.
“Everyone is here. We’re ready to start.”
Strains of Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons” reached their ears as Sarah and Jane Hollings, Grant’s sister and the other bridesmaid, joined them.
“Come on,” the young girl said. Jean Marc took Sarah and Grace to the aisle. Jake offered his arm to Cara.
“Nervous?” he asked her.
“Terrified!” she whispered, slipping her hand through his arm.
“But it’s just another performance.” He placed his hand over hers.
“It’s the rest of my life.”
“Do you doubt Grant’s the one? ‘Cause I’ll hold everyone back while you flee, if that’s what you want.”
“You’re sweet.” She cupped his face. “No, Grant’s the one.”
