Comfort 4: Command Performance

by Annabel Joseph

  Miri flushed, remembering her time in the odella with the handsome, charismatic man. “It’s okay. I just...” She stared at the floor, not knowing what to say.

  “God, we suck.” Nell screwed her eyes shut, then opened them and clutched Miri’s hand. “We won’t interfere again in your and Mason’s business. You get enough interference from everyone else. The things Jess told you, about his first wife, about Constance? Really, Miri, there’s a lot more to the story. Everything is so complicated, but I can tell you one thing for sure. He loves you to death and he misses you. He’s waiting for you, Miri. He’s waiting for you to come back.”

  “Did he send you here?”

  “No,” Jeremy said. “We came because he’s our friend, and because you’re our friend. If you want to ask us anything, or ask him anything... If you want us to take him a message...”

  “I’ll never go back to him,” she said quietly. “You can tell him that. I don’t want him to wait around for something that’s not going to happen.”

  Jeremy and Nell left soon afterward, their faces stretched into tight, false smiles. When had she become such a cold bitch? It was a good thing. If she was ever going to get back into the business, she’d have to develop nerves of steel and a cold heart like Jessamine.

  After that, Miri followed Mason’s movements casually, from the covers of the tabloids and some blogs online. He’d signed on with some big director for a blockbuster project that took him overseas. It was a relief to have him so far away, and so busy, because then she had no choice but to move on.

  She had to get out there again. Not relationship wise. She didn’t want another relationship, but career wise, she knew she had something to offer. If Revelation did well, it might bring her some work, as long as people didn’t bring up her and Mason’s romance again, especially considering the nature of their scene together.

  Fuck it. Of course they would. Why was she so fucked? This was all his fault. After the sadness and frustration, she started to feel something else. Anger. Mason Cooke had pretty much ruined her life. By the time all this blew over to the point she could resume looking for work without Mason attached to her like a shadow, she’d be too old to get the best parts, and Mason would still be basking in the limelight, getting plum role after plum role. In her loneliness and isolation, anger turned to bitterness, and then something very much like hate. Miri decided she hated Mason Cooke. Everything that had gone on between them took on a sinister pall. He’d used her. He’d ruined her chances at a normal, successful life.

  It was in that nadir of despair that Miri made a horrifying discovery. Goddamn St. Johns Wort. She’d sucked it up in that tea that was supposed to relax her, not realizing it altered the efficacy of birth control pills. She was pregnant, almost four months along. Getting rid of it wasn’t possible—it was her and Mason after all, and it was too late anyway.

  She had no idea how to spin this or where to go next. There wasn’t a PR campaign in hell that could save her from the mess she’d made of her life. She could barely think beyond the panic that closed in on her.

  She was fucked. Way beyond fucked.

  *** *** ***

  Satya was a beautiful bride.

  Mason watched her dance at her reception, his head propped on his hands. He felt no jealousy, no regret. Her new husband, Rob, adored her and seemed to be a stand up guy. Satya wouldn’t have settled for anything less than the perfect man. Flowers blanketed the ballroom, riotous, lovely and hopeful. A multicultural array of guests celebrated while sun poured in through picture windows. There was something about a wedding in the spring.

  But Mason felt desperately lonely. The cherry in his drink taunted him. Miri should have been here with him as his wife, his love. Their own wedding would have taken place back in December—that is, if she hadn’t completely cut him out of her life.

  “Hey, frownypants.” Satya swept up behind him in her glittering silk sari-style wedding gown. “You promised to dance with me.”

  Mason reached back and took her hand. “So I did.”

  “People are usually honored to dance with the bride. They don’t, you know, scowl like that.”

  Mason put on a fake smile that turned into a real smile as Satya dragged him onto the dance floor. They swayed together to a jazz tune in wordless accord. He tried—and failed—not to think about dancing with another very special woman, in another time and place. This was Satya’s time. She was glowing, so beautiful. This was the face of love and happiness. She looked the way Miri looked in those early paparazzi photos. She looked the way Miri used to look before things went all wrong.

  Satya rested her head on his shoulder, just for a minute. “Thanks for being here to watch me tie the knot.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” he said, nuzzling her cheek through her filmy veil. “We go way back, you and me.”

  “Any new developments since we talked?”

  He shrugged and made an indeterminate sound. He didn’t want to spend Satya’s reception burdening her with his relationship problems. “Things are about the same. It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay.” She plucked at one of the petals in his boutonniere. “I got my New Year’s wish. You need to get yours.”

  “A new year has come and gone. Anyway, I’ve got plenty of happiness in my life. Probably undeserved, but nonetheless.”

  “Happiness? Back at the table, you looked like you were yearning for a cyanide pill. What’s even happened to her? I haven’t seen anything in the news about her for months.”

  He knew Sats would keep bringing Miri up until he satisfied her curiosity. “Look, I don’t know what to tell you. I haven’t heard from her either. I’m afraid that water’s under the bridge.”

  “So build a new bridge.”

  “I tried. She shut down construction.” Mason frowned, staring at the pearl and diamond necklace glittering against Satya’s bronze skin. “I don’t know what to do. You know I’m hopeless at this shit.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I do know.”

  “The thing is, we got off on the wrong foot. We started dating as these personas, with this agenda. We started out with dishonesty. It poisoned everything. I thought if I waited, she’d change her mind and come back to me—”

  “What is this ‘waiting’ crap you’re talking about?” Satya interrupted. “Do you love her?”

  He didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes.”

  “Then you have to act. She’s out there, you know, maybe talking to some guy at the gym. At the mall, at the deli counter. A young, handsome guy with more game than you. Did you ever think about what happens if she falls in love with someone else?”

  That very thought haunted him, day and night. “God, this is so hard,” he groaned. “I can’t make her love me. She doesn’t want to. She won’t even talk to me.”

  “You have to find a way. You have to figure out why she doesn’t want to love you, and then explain in irrefutable terms why she’s wrong.”

  “Maybe we aren’t meant to be together. You know, like you and me.”

  “Jesus Christ.” Satya yanked him around in a violent circle. “Listen to me, Darwin. I think you—and her—somehow completely lost sight of who you are. It’s understandable, with the way you began. But I think you need to take a long look at those old photos of you together, and think for a long time about why you let each other go, and then I think you need to fucking get honest with each other, for God’s sake. Really honest, before you run out of time.”

  Satya always laid it on the line. He smiled at her, feeling wistful for simpler times, less responsibility. Feeling grateful for his friend and her sharp, sage tongue. “You’re so beautiful today, and I’m so lucky you’re my friend. You’re an amazing person.”

  “So are you, you sap.” As the song drew to a close, she clasped his face between her hands and fixed him with her potent amber gaze. “Just be yourself, show her yourself. You’re so wonderful. You’ve grown up, you’ve tasted true love
. I promise you, honesty will save you. Both of you. But you have to go to her. Someone has to swallow their pride first, and it might as well be you.”

  With that, Satya’s new husband came and stole her away. Mason wondered if she’d told him she and Mason used to be fuckbuddies. Probably not, because Rob was being really pleasant to him. As the couple swept off to greet other guests, Mason slunk back to the table to join his friends. The whole group was laughing at little Rhiannon’s antics as she chased after a handsome young party guest. She looked adorable in her fluffy pink dress, her hair done up in curls.

  Jeremy pointed her out to Mason as he joined them. “What is it with women and weddings?”

  Nell shook her head. “She’s only five. They grow up so fast.”

  “Young love,” Kai chuckled. “It’s not serious.”

  “I hope not.” Jeremy eyed the young boy’s carrot top and his own daughter’s bright red locks. “Their kids would have some obnoxious hair.”

  “Nothing wrong with redheads,” Nell said, poking her husband in the chest.

  Rhiannon came running up, eyes wide and shining. “Mommy, Daddy, I’m in love.” She gasped the word love, drew it out on a sigh.

  “With who, sweetheart?” Jeremy asked.

  The little girl frowned. “I don’t know his name. Hold on.” She was off again in a swish of princess skirts.

  Kai looked over at Mason. “How are you holding up, brother?”

  “It’s a great wedding. I like Dr. Rob and Satya together. They throw a nice party, that’s for sure,” he added, gesturing around the packed ballroom.

  Kai glanced toward Satya. “Maybe someday I’ll be able to get the image of you and my sister out of my head.”

  Mason swallowed hard. “You knew?”

  “She spilled everything last night in a drunken confession. A private one, thankfully.” He shrugged. “If you’d ever done anything to hurt her, I would have wiped the floor with you. But you were good for each other, I guess.”

  “No. He’s good for her,” Mason said with a nod at Dr. Rob. “I’m not good for anyone.”

  Kai and Constance exchanged somber glances. Oh, Jesus. He didn’t want to be that guy, the pathetic, lovelorn loser at the wedding. He needed another drink.

  Rhiannon swung by and yelled out, “His name is Keats!”

  She swung back around and chased Keats under a table, holding him down for a clumsy kiss.

  “She’s her father’s daughter, I’m afraid.” Nell laughed. “Poor little boy doesn’t have a chance.” Keats ran away to find security in the arms of his mom and dad, who looked over at their table with a smile and wave.

  Constance signed, and Kai translated. “She says it’s wonderful, how open children are with their emotions. They’re never afraid to go after what they want.”

  “Rhiannon never has been,” said Jeremy.

  “She’s her father’s daughter,” Nell repeated. “Like I said.”

  Mason only half listened to the banter of his friends. What if she falls in love with someone else? If little Rhiannon Gray could go after what she wanted so fearlessly, why couldn’t he too?

  What was he waiting for? He didn’t need a drink. He needed a goddamn plane ticket.

  He took Constance’s hand and squeezed it, then turned to Kai. “Will you tell Satya I had to go? She’ll understand why. I don’t think she’ll be mad at me.”

  Kai shook his head with a faint smile. “No, she won’t be mad.”

  They all stared as he downed a gulp of Kai’s drink and then turned resolutely toward the door. “Is he going where I think he’s going?” he heard Nell ask.

  “Let’s hope so,” Kai answered. “Go get her, Mace.”

  Chapter Seventeen: So Wrong

  The paparazzi picked up his trail at the airport, so hordes of cameras were waiting when he touched down in L.A. A cavalcade followed him all the way to Miri’s father’s house, but Mason was too intent to behave with circumspection. He stalked up the sidewalk right in front of them and pounded on the door. He could hear the click, click, click of cameras at his back. Take pictures of me, motherfuckers. I don’t care.

  Peter Durand cracked the door and yelled, “She’s not here.”

  “Bullshit.” Mason pushed her father back and went in. “Where is she?”

  Peter was so drunk Mason could smell it coming out of his pores. The old man’s eyes were bleary and he appeared puffy even though he’d lost weight. Mason wasn’t a good enough person to feel sympathy for him, not when he was so caught up in his own emotions. He was going to win Miri back, today, before he left this house. He was going to make everything all right again. He loved her, that was all that mattered. “Miri!” he yelled. “Where is she?” he asked Peter again. “I need to talk to her, and if she’s not here I’ll sit and wait for her until she gets back.”

  “I’m here.”

  Mason turned and there she was at the top of the stairs, in jeans and a clinging red shirt that showed every angle of—Jesus fucking Christ.

  All the joy, all the affectionate things he’d planned to say died in his throat, replaced with brutal shock. She was pregnant. Not extremely, but pregnant enough for him to see it. She put a hand over the bump and stared back at him without a word of explanation.

  “My God,” he finally spluttered. “What— When— Why didn’t you tell me?” He forced the words out, angst twisting his gut. “When exactly were you going to tell me?”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t want it to get out. For your sake.”

  “For my sake?” He repeated her stupidly. “How did you hide it this long?”

  “No one cares about me now that you’re out of my life. And baggy coats cover a lot.”

  He eyed the curve of her waist. “They wouldn’t have covered you much longer.”

  Her dad shuffled away, mumbling under his breath. Miri sighed and rubbed her eyes. “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you call?”

  “Call? You haven’t taken my calls in weeks.” He gawked at her, blood whooshing in his ears. “It’s mine, isn’t it? Or have you been busier than I thought?”

  Her lips tightened, the only sign of emotion. “It’s not an ‘it,’ it’s a she. Yes, she’s yours.”

  A girl. Holy God. “How— How long? Jesus, Miri, what the fuck?”

  “Six months. It must have happened back in November, right before we broke up. I thought about things and decided… Well, I decided I’d rather raise her without you. Without your help.”

  “Without my...? What?” He couldn’t speak. He literally couldn’t produce words. “I just... I can’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”

  For the first time, some glimmer of guilt crossed her stoic face. “You weren’t here. You were busy and I didn’t want to… I was going to raise her somewhere more private, and I knew you wouldn’t—”

  “Raise her where?”

  “Somewhere. Somewhere far away from L.A., somewhere quieter. The thing is, I don’t want her growing up, you know...in your world.”

  “What the hell? What world are you talking about? We both live in the same goddamn world, Miri!”

  She moved down the stairs toward him, looking more beautiful than ever, even with her swollen waistline and her frown. “You know what world I’m talking about. Your celebrity world. I’m not subjecting this baby to the crowds and paparazzi. I’m not doing the baby-bodyguard thing to this child. To my own daughter. I’m not.”

  Helpless fury blurred his vision. “I can’t believe this. I seriously can’t wrap my mind around this. You were going to move away somewhere? Go somewhere and hide from me and raise my daughter without even telling me she existed?”

  She blanched at the rising anger in his voice. “Yes. I guess that was the plan. Not to hide from you though. We broke up, remember?”

  “Jesus Christ, Miri. Are you insane?”

  “I thought by the time she was born you would have moved on with your life. You’re so busy, and if we’re not going to be together... You
said yourself that your children’s lives would be fucked to hell.”

  Oh, she wasn’t using his words against him, not now. “You can’t keep her from me just because I’m a celebrity.” He stalked her into the living room. “What if I don’t want her raised in your world, where people don’t have the common fucking decency to tell someone he’s fathered a child? Would you ever have told me? Do you know what they’ll say in the tabloids about this?”

  Miri’s face contorted in anger. “You and the goddamn tabloids! I’m so done worrying about your PR problems. I’ve been driving to a doctor an hour away, sneaking in and out of her office to avoid being found out. What about my pregnancy problem? This is all your fault.”

  “My fault? Sex takes two, baby. And you were supposed to be on the pill.”

  “I was. But being your fiancée stressed me out so bad I started taking these goddamn herbs to feel better. The doctor said they messed up my hormones or the birth control pills or something.” She waved a hand. “Whatever. Either way, they failed and now I’m fucking pregnant and none of this would have happened if not for your stupid PR scheme in the first place!”

  “Now, Mason— Miri—” her father yelled from the door of the living room.

  “Get out, daddy,” Miri said. “This is for us to settle.”

  Peter pointed at him. “You get out. You’ve done enough to ruin my daughter’s life.”

  Mason scowled. “Oh, that’s funny, coming from you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Daddy, just get out,” Miri pleaded. “Go lay down or something.”

  Peter turned and left with a muttered curse. Mason turned to her. “Wow, he looks rough. You have to get help for him, you know. You can’t just tell him to go lay down, like he’s a dog or something.”

  Tears shone in her eyes. “How dare you? How dare you bust into my house and tell me I need to fix my problems when you—when you are the cause of so many of them?”

  “I’m the cause? You left me, I didn’t leave you. I would have stayed and helped you. To this day, I would do anything to help you, and all I got for it was a stake in the heart. Jesus, Miri,” he said again, gesturing at her belly.