Her Leading Man

by Duncan, Alice

  “Nonsense,” the movie star said, although he did back up a couple of paces. “Then you’d be arrested, too. Maybe you two could share a cell.” He laughed.

  The sound was ugly and seemed to smear the warm desert air with muck. Christina discovered her mouth twisting in distaste. Although she didn’t dare release her grandmother for fear of what Gran might do to Orozco, she said, “Get out of our way, Pablo.”

  “Gladly.” He swept another bow and stepped aside.

  “Let me go, Christina.” Mrs. Mayhew spoke through tightly clenched teeth. “Let me hit him just once.”

  “He’s not worth it, Gran.”

  “That’s so,” agreed Martin, his voice dripping with contempt. “He’s a worm.”

  “Not to mention a damned coward,” Gran said, adding icing to her cake of scorn and heaving it at Orozco.

  The actor didn’t like being spoken of with such disrespect. Christina was pleased to see his face darken as he flushed in anger and embarrassment. Lifting her chin, she started walking away from him.

  After she changed for dinner, she aimed to order the most lavish meal in the hotel’s restaurant. So what if she still felt sick from lunch? She’d show this snake that he couldn’t ruin her. Her intentions were thwarted when Orozco grabbed her arm and jerked her around. “Oh, so I’m a worm, am I? You bitch!”

  Shock and fury flooded Christina so suddenly that she reeled slightly from the force of it Then, unable to keep from defending herself in the only way her body could think of on the spur of the moment, she balled up her right fist and socked Pablo Orozco in the face.

  The actor uttered a strangled cry, staggered backward, bumped into a table, knocked over a lamp, and fell to the floor with a crash, landing flat on his back and whacking the back of his head against a chair leg. As soon as he hit the floor, he let out another cry, having smacked his broken arm on the way down.

  The knuckles on Christina’s right hand felt as if they’d been crushed. Pablo Orozco had a very hard chin. She shook her hand and muttered, “Ow.”

  “My goodness.” Martin stared at the human heap on the floor.

  “I’ll sue you!” Orozco shouted at the top of his lungs. He was gripping his wounded arm with his good hand, and his face had changed from a dull red to a bright crimson. “I’ll sue you for every penny you have! I’ll ruin you! You’ll never work in pictures again!”

  “Shut up, Pablo.”

  Christina, whose head had suddenly flooded with all sorts of sorry scenarios, most of which included her in manacles and leg irons standing in front of a black-clad judge who bore an amazing resemblance to one of the university’s regents, whipped her head around and stared at Martin. He’d sounded frightening when he’d spoken to Orozco before. Now he sounded positively deadly

  He stalked over to the fallen actor, reached down, grabbed the front of his shirt, and yanked him to his feet. Orozco’s eyes bugged, and his chin trembled.

  “Shut the hell up right now, Orozco. Don’t say another word unless you want me to punch you. And I’m stronger than Christina, damn you.”

  “You wouldn’t d dare!” sputtered Orozco, who had gone pale and shaky.

  “Don’t bet on it. If you don’t leave Christina alone—and I mean it—you’ll never work in another moving picture. I’ll see to it that neither Peerless nor any other studio in the United States will hire you. And if you think I’m fooling, file that lawsuit you just threatened. I’ll see you begging on the streets if you try it.”

  Struggling wildly to get away, but out-powered by Martin, Orozco blurted out, “You wouldn’t! You couldn’t!”

  Martin leaned so close, the two men were almost nose to nose for a second. “Try me.” He released the actor suddenly, surprising Orozco and sending him lurching backward into a chair, which he grabbed with his free hand. The tactic only brought the chair toppling over with him when he found himself on the floor once more.

  Taking further advantage of an opportunity, Martin stomped over to the sprawled form and straddled it. “And another thing, damn you. If you so much as speak to Christina again, you’re through. Do you understand me?”

  The actor stared up at the producer-director, his eyes huge with fright. Christina stared at the two men with her hands pressed to her flaming cheeks, wondering if she should interfere.

  But, no. This was too precious a moment to spoil. Nobody—nobody—had ever played the role of her champion before this. She discovered the feeling to be quite satisfying and decided to savor the scene.

  “Sock the bastard!”

  Christina turned to discover Gran, eyes bright, cane held aloft, cheering Martin on. She even waved her cane in the air. Fearing she might decide to join in the fray, Christina put a hand on her arm.

  “Kick him!” Mrs. Mayhew shouted next.

  “Gran, cut it out.” Even Christina could hear the lack of conviction in her voice. If she were to speak the truth aloud, she’d have joined her grandmother in encouraging Martin to do further violence to her foe.

  “No!” shrieked Orozco.

  “Don’t worry,” Martin said in the same deadly voice. “I won’t hurt you anymore. But I wouldn’t advise you to forget my warning, Orozco. I’m a powerful force in the motion picture industry—much more powerful than you, you son of a bitch. If you don’t believe me now, you will if you do anything—anything at all—to Christina again. If you so much as wish her a good morning, you’ll be through in pictures. Do you understand me?”

  Orozco didn’t answer. Martin leaned over and said, “Answer me, damn you! Do you understand me?”

  “Y-yes,” the actor whimpered.

  “Then get the hell out of here. Now. We don’t need you any longer. I’ll have the last scene shot without you. I want you gone from the set today, before night falls. Do you understand that?”

  “Y-yes.”

  With a look so scathing it would have crushed Christina had it been aimed at her, Martin straightened. “Good.” And he turned on his heel and stalked back to Christina and Mrs. Mayhew, leaving Orozco on the floor with the chair on top of him.

  “Good job, young man! And none too soon, either,” Gran said.

  Christina could scarcely believe her eyes when her grandmother actually reached out and shook Martin’s hand. She’d never seen Gran commit so overtly approving a gesture.

  After he allowed his hand to be shaken, Martin pressed the same hand over his eyes for only a second. “I can’t believe I did that,” he muttered as he hooked his arm through Christina’s.

  “You were wonderful,” Christina told him, glowing with pride. She might not get to go to medical school, but at least Martin was willing to stand up for her. Who knew? Maybe he could do something to change the regents’ minds. She guessed her life wasn’t a complete loss. Not if Martin remained in it.

  “Oh, my!” She stopped walking abruptly, a thought having walloped her much as she had just walloped Pablo Orozco.

  “What’s the matter?”

  She was sorry to see that her exclamation had worried Martin, and she rushed to placate him “I’m sorry, Martin. But . . . well, I just realized there’s no need for us not to get married now.” She shrugged. “I mean, since I can’t go to medical school anyway, there’s nothing to stop us.”

  “Married?” Gran stared at the two of them as if she’d only just then realized they were both insane. “You’re going to get married?”

  The note of disapproval in the old lady’s voice made Christina grin. It didn’t have the same effect on Martin, who still seemed to be struggling with some residual anger. He snapped harshly at Mrs. Mayhew, “What’s the matter with that?”

  Gran’s eyes went as round as pie plates, and she looked for a moment as if she were at a loss for words. She wasn’t, of course, and Christina guessed she should have known better than to think such a pleasant possibility could exist.

  “Not a thing,” said Mrs. Mayhew. “It’s just that I thought the two of you were only indulging in a fling.”

/>   Martin’s look of pained astonishment was so comical, and Christina was still suffering from such an overload of emotions, that she burst out laughing. “Gran! You’re awful!”

  The old lady said, “Heh!”

  She was proud of herself, though. Christina could see it in her beady black eyes.

  “You really were wonderful with Pablo today, Martin. Gran’s absolutely right.”

  Martin watched Christina as her slender, elegant form moved across his hotel room. He loved her so much. Maybe too much, if what happened today was any indication. “I can’t believe I did it.” He’d said the same thing perhaps fifty times since they’d left Orozco sprawled on the lobby floor.

  The actor had lost no time in carrying out one of Martin’s demands. Paul Gabriel had joined Martin and the Mayhew ladies in the restaurant after he’d bathed and changed into regular clothes. He’d been in quite a dither.

  “Orozco just left,” he told them excitedly. “I don’t think he’s coming back, either, because the machine was jam-packed full of his trunks.”

  “He’d better not come back,” Martin had growled.

  When Paul had blinked at him, Christina had explained what had happened that afternoon. Paul’s mouth had dropped open before he stunned the entire restaurant crowd by applauding and crying out loudly, “Bravo! I wish I could have seen it!”

  Martin had been embarrassed, but Gran had approved wholeheartedly. Actually, so had Christina, who couldn’t seem to stop beaming at Martin.

  He and Christina had retired to his room directly after dinner. Although almost three hours had passed since he’d completely lost his poise and threatened the life and health of Pablo Orozco, Martin still couldn’t believe he’d done such a thing.

  As he gazed at Christina, he had to admit, however, that he also felt rather good about his loss of poise. Probably too good, all things considered. After all, he didn’t really approve of violence as a means of solving problems.

  Dealing with Orozco had felt good, though. It had felt damned good. As Christina tossed her evening wrap over a brocaded chair, she turned and smiled at him. Her smile still dazzled him. “You’re my hero, Martin. You defended me in battle.”

  “Good Lord.” His tone was dry, but he was pleased. If a man had to make an ass of himself over a woman, it was nice to know the woman appreciated him for it.

  “And I love you.” She came over to him and started to untie his tie. “I love you more than anything. More than chocolate éclairs.”

  “Since you ate two of them for dessert, I guess that’s a lot, huh?” Martin grinned and began unbuttoning her front buttons.

  “You bet. You’re my hero.”

  “I sort of like being your hero.” He did, too. In fact, a certain unruly part of him was already standing at attention.

  Christina placed her hand on it, and it saluted smartly. “I’m glad we’re getting married, Martin.”

  “So am I.” He started nuzzling her neck. The truth of the matter was that he didn’t give a hang about Pablo Orozco, fistfights, or marriage. He wanted Christina in bed. Now.

  “It takes some of the sting out of that blasted telegram from the regents.”

  Still nuzzling, and now able to access her bosom, thanks to his deft work on her front buttons, Martin murmured, “I’ll take care of the regents. Stop worrying about them.”

  She chuckled softly. “You’re wonderful, Martin. You really are my hero, you know.”

  “Good. Heroes get lots of rewards. I’m claiming one of them now.”

  He’d been maneuvering the two of them in the direction of the bed. Christina chuckled again as they fell over onto the soft mattress. Martin made quick work of the rest of her clothes, took care of removing his own in record time, and set to work proving himself to be a hero in bed as well as out of it.

  His heart swelled when Christina arched under him and then shuddered as her pleasure climaxed. His own satisfaction followed swiftly. As he sank, exhausted, at her side, he pried his eyes open and gazed with wonder at her face, gleaming now with the aftermath of sexual gratification and her own perfect beauty.

  His finger traced the fine line of her cheekbone. “I still don’t understand it, Christina.”

  She yawned, stretched like a cat, and turned into his arms. “What don’t you understand, love?” His eyes drifted shut out of sheer ecstasy.

  “I don’t understand what you see in me.”

  “What?”

  Martin disapproved when she reared away from him in order to stare at him. His eyes cricked open, and he frowned at her. “Come back here.”

  She did as commanded, but she still frowned. “You’re being ridiculous, Martin Tafft. You’re the most perfect human male in the entire world. Well, except for my father, but that doesn’t count.”

  Her words were music to his ears. They were so delicious, in fact, that he wanted to hear more of them. “Oh, yeah? What makes me so perfect?”

  “Good heavens, it would take a lifetime to enumerate all of your sterling qualities.”

  Better and better. “A lifetime, eh? Well, try to think of a couple now, all right?”

  “All right.” She ticked off items on her fingers. In order to do so, she had to roll onto her back, but that was all right. Martin still kept his arms around her. “Number one, you’re genuinely courteous and kind.”

  “Tepid,” he grumbled.

  Her eyes opened wide. “Tepid! Not on your life, Martin Tafft. Do you know how many truly courteous and kind people there are in the world?”

  “No. How many?”

  She squinted at him in mock disapproval. “I’ve met one so far.”

  “You mean me?”

  “I mean you.”

  “Golly, that’s good, huh?”

  “It’s darned good. Number two, you’re smart.”

  “Ah.”

  “Mind you, there are more smart people in the world than there are kind ones, but you’re still in a minority.”

  “I see.”

  She ticked off another point on her fingers. “Number three, you’re practical and well organized.”

  “That’s a selling point, is it?”

  “You bet it is. I hate disorganization and sloth.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  She poked him in the chest. “You’d better.”

  Martin never did know how many good points he’d racked up before he slid into sleep, but he did know that he was a happy man. A very happy man.

  Twenty

  The filming wrapped up the next day, sans Pablo Orozco. The final scene, the one where Moses’s underling and Pharaoh’s brother’s former slave walked into the sunset with each other, was filmed from distance.

  Loud crashes and bangs from outdoors signaled the deconstruction of Pharaoh’s palace as Martin, Christina and Ben discussed the editing process that afternoon. They met as soon as Christina and Martin had washed off their makeup. They sat at a table in the dining room, sipping coffee—Christina had tea—and trying to figure out how to complete Egyptian Idyll without Pablo Orozco being involved.

  “If I so much as set eyes on him, I’m afraid I’ll sock him,” Martin confessed.

  Ben only grinned, not at all shocked by Martin’s sudden penchant for ferocity. “I’ve been trying to keep from socking him for weeks now.”

  Christina said, “Me, too.” Recalling being pawed the oily actor, she shuddered. Martin put his hand over hers, so that made the shudder worthwhile.

  “I have lots of close-up footage of him,” Ben said. I’m sure there’s enough for editing purposes. A frame here, a frame there. It’ll be all right.”

  “I hope so. Phin’s expecting a lot from this picture. So am I, for that matter.”

  “I’ve already got everything I want.” Christina squeezed Martin’s hand so that he’d have no problem understanding what it was she wanted.

  Martin grinned at her. So did Ben.

  “I think it’s great that you two got together,” the cameram
an told them.

  “Me, too.” Christina sighed with pleasure. She still ached when she thought about medical school, but she’d cope.

  “Me, too,” Martin agreed. “But we still have to get this picture edited.” He frowned slightly. “But I have something to do in Los Angeles before we get together, Ben. Why don’t we set up an appointment for next Monday. I should be ready to go through the whole picture then, and we can compare thoughts.”

  “Right. That’s fine with me. I’ll run through it a couple of times and take notes, so I’ll be better prepared.”

  “Great. Maybe you can let Phin see it, too.” Martin grinned again. “Maybe you two will have the whole thing fixed by the time I show up.”

  “I doubt that.” Ben was serious. “You’re the best film editor in the business.”

  Christina’s pride in the man she loved took a gigantic leap. She would have loved him if all the world was ranged against him, but it was pleasant to know that others in his own business considered him the best.

  “Thanks, Ben.”

  What’s more, he wasn’t falsely humble, either. Christina had no patience with people who assumed modesty. Why shouldn’t Martin take pride in his work? The good Lord knew he’d worked hard to be the best.

  Christina had worked hard to be the best, too. She hoped that one day the bitterness that assailed her every time she realized her hard work was going to pay no dividends would not be so sharp. She didn’t expect it would ever go away entirely, but she hoped she wouldn’t start to resent Martin on behalf of her own disappointment.

  None of her problems could be laid at his door. He’d done everything humanly possible to keep her arrest from being known. It was all on account of Pablo Orozco’s pettiness that her career plans had been doomed.

  Sighing, she told herself to stop dwelling on her loss.