“And you wanted the DVD first.”
“To show Lydia, yeah. To prove how blind she’s been. Except Madden arrived too soon and caught me. They made me call you the second time. But it’s all for nothing, anyway. I told my sister what it was about. She doesn’t believe it. She thinks I want to ruin her marriage. She’s mad at me. Me. I think if I showed her the DVD this minute, she’d still find a way to deny it.”
“Sometimes people don’t want to see the truth.”
He should know. He probably should have seen that Jillian was lying to him. She’d given him enough clues about her attitude. He’d been as blind as Toomis’s sister.
“I just want the guy to get what’s coming to him,” Toomis said, pounding the steering wheel. “He’s a lying, cheating hypocrite.”
Brody glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the driver behind flash his headlights. He noticed Ryan Jeffers was in the passenger seat. Brody smiled. “I think I can help you out here, James,” he said. “See the car that’s following us?”
“Huh?” He swiveled his head to look at the car.
“Careful there. Eyes on the road. How about you pull into that parking lot?” He pointed.
“What’s going on?” Toomis turned into the lot and stopped the car.
“If you tell these guys what you told me—” he pointed at Jeffers and his driver, who wore a badge around his neck, heading their way “—I believe Mr. Bascom will get everything he deserves.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The authorities are interested in Mr. Bascom’s activities, too. Answer all their questions. Someday your sister will thank you.” Brody got out of the car and handed Jeffers the tape recorder. He told him what had happened, accepted his thanks and, after extracting the promise of an update, got a ride from a detective back to his car.
It was ironic that Bascom had committed assault with a deadly weapon and burglary to cover up his stripper encounter, having no idea he was in trouble over his dirty deals. The man would get nailed for going after a video that couldn’t even be used against him. Even Toomis didn’t intend to use the video except to help his sister. The case was about perception and reputation and truth and intent and what you missed until you knew the whole story.
Now Brody had more truth to learn. He headed back to Jillian, his heart heavy. Just as she’d predicted, he had seen everything more clearly on screen.
JILLIAN PULLED OPEN the door to her hotel room and for one instant Brody wanted to forget what he’d learned about her. “I was so worried,” she said. “Are you okay?” She started to hug him, but hesitated, sensing his stiffness, no doubt, and backed up, letting him enter. “What’s wrong? Did something bad happen?”
“Yeah. It’s bad. But nothing to do with the case.” He closed the door and walked to her laptop. “I saw part of your movie before I left.” He hit a key and the screensaver disappeared. The picture was right where he’d left it, on his face while he gave his dating tips.
“You did? Why did you—”
“I thought mine fell out of my pocket and picked yours up by mistake. I had to check to be sure I had the right one.”
“Oh,” she said. “It’s fine, really. I made the copy for you. I wanted to show it to you after you got back. How much did you see?”
“Enough. Plenty. I saw all I needed to see.”
“You’re angry?” She seemed surprised.
“Of course I am. This isn’t a movie about dating. It’s a hit piece on me.”
“No, it’s not.” She looked startled. “It criticizes Doctor Nite, that’s true, as a symbol of a negative cultural phenomenon, not you. Not Brody Donegan.”
“I told you before. I am Doctor Nite.”
“You’re more than him. And you’re done with the show anyway. You told me yourself.” She seemed shaken by his anger. “In fact…I was hoping you’d give me an interview about your plans, about how you’ve changed your mind. We’d have to work out the timing, of course. After you tell everyone.”
“You thought I’d go on camera and tell people Doctor Nite is full of shit? Are you nuts? And let me say for the record, contrary to what your experts said, I am no misogynist. I love women. I’m not Peter Pan, either. And my parents are good people who raised me right.”
“I know that, Brody. That’s academic theory.”
Brody felt fury rise in him. She was flat-out denying what he’d seen with his own eyes, what was clearly, plainly there. “There’s nothing wrong with my show,” he said tightly.
“But you’re sick of it. You said your life was empty.”
“That was personal. Between you and me. And you want to put it out for the world to know? What’s wrong with you?” It suddenly occurred to him how bad this really was. “This is why you begged for this job? To expose me to ridicule and insult me? From the beginning you meant to attack me?”
“I had some harsh ideas at first, I admit, but I learned about the tender, generous, warm man you truly are, the real Brody, not the crude TV personality. That’s the man I fell in love with.” Her voice went soft and shaky and he abruptly wanted to hold her, forget what he’d seen, believe what she said.
But he couldn’t. It was all right there and he wouldn’t deny it like she was trying to do. “For a woman who claims to want the truth, you spend a lot of time lying to yourself.”
“Brody!” She looked stung.
“You weren’t uncovering a story, JJ. You were proving a point. You’re pissed at me. No, at men in general.”
“That’s not true.”
“You think men are all players, who’ll use you and cheat on you, right? Like your father? This film is payback, right?”
“That’s not fair,” she said, anger flaring in her gaze. “You didn’t even see the whole movie. At least do that.”
He was relieved she was fighting back, instead of looking puzzled and hurt, as if he were the one who’d misled her.
“If you’re so proud of your show,” she continued, “you should laugh at my experts, shrug off the criticism. But you know I’m right and that upsets you. Don’t hide behind Doctor Nite. You know you want more.”
“I want different, not more. And not better. There’s nothing wrong with me, with my life or with Doctor Nite.”
“You can’t mean that.” She stared at him. “Are you joking?”
Anger spiked in him. “You were right before, JJ. We hardly know each other. And I thought you were better than this.”
She gasped and her cheeks went red, as if she’d been slapped. “I never meant to hurt you,” she said levelly.
“What are you talking about? Your intent from the beginning was to make me look like a Class A prick. You took this job for the purpose of hurting me.”
“That’s not true.”
“I trusted you. I opened my arms to you. I offered you interviews, told you to tape anything. What a schmuck I was.”
“I’m sorry, Brody.” She sank into herself for a moment, looking lost and small, then pulled herself up, as if wrapping her confidence around herself like a coat against the cold.
“I’m sorry you feel that way. I won’t use anything you said. And for the record, I would never expose you in a negative way. I thought you’d agree with me. I wish I could make you understand.”
“Oh, I do,” he snapped.
She swallowed hard and tears sprang to her eyes. Fool that he was, his heart lurched in sympathy. He’d made her cry. She searched his face. “We can’t get past this, can we?”
He fought the urge to touch her cheek, to hold her, tell her never mind, but it just hurt too damn much. “No,” he said, “we can’t.”
She nodded slowly, accepting defeat. “I know you won’t believe this, but I want the best for you, Brody. I know once you quit, you’ll see more clearly.”
“Quit? Who says I’m quitting?” And, like that, he decided. “Doctor Nite is just fine. In fact, he’s heading to Europe.” He lunged for the door, throwing it open. “Goodbye, Jillian
. Have a nice life. I know I will.”
He slammed the door and marched away. No one was going to tell him what to do or who to be. He’d move on when he was damn good and ready. He was having too good a time to walk away now.
“SO HOW WAS WORKING for Doctor Nite?” Nate asked Jillian, when she sat in front of his editing bay a week later.
Wonderful and awful. Thrilling and devastating. She wouldn’t have missed it for the world, and she wished she’d taken no for an answer outside Score that night. She couldn’t say any of that to Nate. She was too raw. “It was…interesting.”
Her cousin kept staring at her, so she nodded at the monitor. “Let’s roll, okay?” She hoped to salvage something she could work with once she’d removed all references to Doctor Nite. After the fight, she’d called May Lee and explained the documentary wasn’t what the network wanted. May Lee was disappointed, but left her with a polite invitation to send in future projects Jillian thought might be right for them.
Nate readied his equipment to play back her rough cut. She hadn’t told him what she had in mind. She’d see what she had, then decide what to do. She’d been floundering lately, indecisive and lost. Not herself at all.
A week had passed, but she still missed Brody desperately. She’d snapped that purple rubber band until she gave herself welts, then removed it so people wouldn’t think she’d been abused.
She’d replayed their last conversation over and over in her mind. She’d assumed Brody would understand. Instead, he’d felt betrayed. Maybe if she’d been able to give him the context before he saw the snippets. He’d seemed so ready to assume the worst about her intent.
She suppose she didn’t blame him. From his perspective, she’d lied to him, used him, tried to humiliate him.
She’d been wrong about him. They’d been wrong about each other. Even without the movie between them, they saw the world and each other too differently.
Brody was Doctor Nite and would always be, at some level. People didn’t change. Not really. She could never love a man who treated women like toys to be played with, then set aside. That wasn’t quite fair, she knew. Brody was a good person in his heart. He just wasn’t right for her.
She wanted so much to erase the hurt from his face, to somehow make it better. He’d claimed she’d been proving a point, not seeking the truth. That bothered her and was a big reason she was here in Nate’s studio to watch her documentary start to finish. Sometimes you got too close to your work.
Before they could start, Nate’s bell rang. At the door were two young women—tall, blond and leggy, wearing silk robes and holding gym bags. Models from the condo next door, no doubt. “We have go-sees and Jessica’s hogging the shower,” whined the first, batting her eyes at Nate. “Can we use yours, pretty please?”
“Sure. Come on in,” Nate said, blushing and beaming.
The girls walked through the living room, headed for the hall. Jillian watched them and Nate came to sit down. “What a generous neighbor you are,” she said.
“We help each other out,” he said, watching the girls’ behinds disappear into the bathroom.
“They use your shower and you…what…borrow sugar?”
“It works out.” Nate shrugged and they settled in to watch.
The movie scrolled forward and Jillian began to feel dismay at how repetitive the scenes were. First single women, then expert after expert condemned Doctor Nite and bachelors for being juvenile and self-involved. The same point over and over.
Nate gave a low whistle. “And I thought you had a thing for the guy.”
“It’s kind of monotonous, huh?” She’d done the newbie thing of venting her spleen, not trusting her audience to understand, hitting them over the head again and again with the same idea.
“So, did he piss you off or something?”
“No. I…” This wasn’t her style at all. She kept an open mind, uncovered the story gradually. This felt like a hit piece. Brody had been right. How had she been so blind?
The Doctor Nite promo rolled across the screen and her mortification was replaced by the familiar ache of missing Brody. Every single day she hurt for him, scalp to toes.
“Whatcha watchin’?” The models, towels around their bodies and hair, leaned in to look. “Oooh, Doctor Nite,” the first one said. “I love Doctor Nite.”
The second nodded. “He is sooo cute.”
“Jillian was his cameraperson last week,” Nathan explained to the models, who gasped in wonder and delight.
“You are so lucky,” one said.
“What do you think about Doctor Nite’s attitude toward women?” Jillian asked, truly curious this time.
“His attitude? He loves women. What’s not to like about that?” They all watched the screen where Brody was joking with a table of chunky women in low-cut spandex, who beamed at him. He treated them the way he treated everyone he interviewed, men and women, fat, thin, gorgeous, ordinary. Brody loved people.
Some of his bits were obnoxious, but men were as much the butt of his humor as women were. And he poked fun at himself more than anyone else.
Jillian remembered the advice a wise film instructor had given: The angle of your brain is more crucial than the angle of your camera. She’d gone into her movie with a closed mind. Why had she been so happy to believe the worst of Brody?
Her own history, no doubt. Was she pissed at men? Brody was right that the past colored her views. She had resented her father, been hurt by years of rejection because of her weight. She mistrusted men in general, she supposed. She hoped for decent men, but she didn’t quite believe they were out there.
Before Nate’s neighbors left, they waltzed off with his supply of beer and chips for a party they were having that night. They clearly had him wrapped around their little French-tipped fingers. Women had their tricks and maneuvers, too. What had Eve said? When it came to sex and dating, men and women screwed it up in their separate ways.
She looked at Brody on screen, at his smile, at those eyes. How she loved him. She’d hurt him, taken advantage of his generosity, convinced herself that exposing his show had been for the greater good. Believing she’d been open and fair, she’d actually stacked the deck against him.
She wanted him to be different than he was, but you had to love someone for who he was, not for his potential. Could she love Brody that way? Could she truly open her heart?
She would never like Brody’s show, but she could respect him, honor his intent, see his side, couldn’t she?
And, if she could, would Brody want her? Maybe she’d been his transition lover. Maybe she’d hurt him too deeply.
He’d not responded to her critique of his book, which had included a heartfelt note about how good it was. Maybe he was too angry. Maybe it was too late. Her heart squeezed tight in pain and hope. She intended to find out.
15
IT WAS 2 A.M., and Kirk and Eve were the last guests at Brody’s blowout party at Score, Doctor Nite’s favorite hangout. It was a week after the Bascom sting and Brody’s breakup with Jillian and the place had been packed with crew, publicity staff, assistants, equipment guys, hell, even a couple of strays from the mail room they’d gathered up.
The party had rocked. Brody had kept the booze flowing and made sure everyone knew how important they were to him. It had been tons better than that subdued mutter of a celebration the last night at the Xanadu.
Jillian had had a soda, thanked everyone, then took off, claiming to need sleep. He’d been relieved, since he’d kept his eyes on her the entire time she was there, fighting the urge to pull her into his arms and just smell her hair.
Now he and Kirk and Eve were tossing back one last drink. “The Doctor is back!” Brody said, dropping his shot glass of whiskey into his beer. Kirk and Eve did the same, then all three banged their overflowing steins together and guzzled the workingman’s highball, slamming down the mugs with resounding clunks.
“You had us worried,” Eve said. “Didn’t he, Kirk?”
“Nah. I knew he’d be cool.” Kirk grinned, adjusting the sling strap around his neck.
Brody didn’t feel cool. He felt awful. Miserable. Lonely. Heartsick. Dammit, Jillian. He was still in love with the woman. Either that or he was having some kind of slow, agonizing heart attack—his chest ached constantly.
He’d stopped being angry, at least. He’d felt so betrayed, so set up. He’d thought she had integrity and, hell, standards. But she was human, too. Nobody was perfect.
This was still L.A.
He didn’t really blame her—professionally, anyway. If her aim was to make a commercial project that would score airtime, Doctor Nite was an attractive target. Personally, though, it hurt like hell.
Of course, something else gnawed at him. After it was over, he’d felt relieved. As if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, as if he’d dodged a bullet.
Knowing she believed in him, he’d gotten a knot in his belly, a pressure in his head. She expected him to be a new man. She was in love with her image of who he could be, not who he actually was.
And who was that? Good question. His relief about resuming his old life hadn’t lasted a day. He felt like a shadow now. When he talked about the show, he heard an echo, as if he stood in an empty room. There was nothing wrong with being Doctor Nite awhile longer, he told himself. He’d move on when he was good and ready. He was only thirty-seven. He had plenty of time to write a novel, find a woman and settle down. Right?
“I almost forgot the latest on Europe,” Eve said. “We’re this close to getting BBC to do a documentary on you. The working title is An American Sex God Crosses the Pond.”
“Sex God? No way,” he said, dread filling him at the prospect. An American Sex Fraud was more like it.
“So we negotiate a better title. It’s a good thing,” Eve said.
Brody owed her and Kirk the European trip, he figured, and it gave him something to focus on.
“I want us to do more arty shots, Kirk,” he said. Jillian had made him realize that. Working with her had perked him up.
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