Sins of Omission

by Fern Michaels

  “Yes, he is, Jane,” Reuben said softly. He found himself cradling Jane in his arms. Awkwardly he patted her damp curls.

  Max watched the little byplay as he instructed one of the girls to check out a room. So Tarz was human after all. A dame would do it every time, he thought smugly as he walked back over to the bar. Later, if he ever found himself getting angry at Reuben, he’d remember he was human like the rest. It was always easier to handle a situation when you knew a man was capable of being vulnerable. At least that’s what his mother told him. “Just a few minutes and you can take her up,” he told Reuben. “Good thing you were here, I don’t know what I would have done with her.”

  “You wouldn’t have let her leave like this, would you? You just have to look at her to know she doesn’t belong here. You would have taken her upstairs, wouldn’t you, Max?”

  Max looked embarrassed. “Yeah, sure….”

  Reuben smiled.

  They were at the end of the bar, their backs to the door, when it opened. Reuben’s arm was around Jane as he helped her off the stool to follow Max up the stairway. He heard Bebe’s musical trill of laughter and Sol’s bellow. “You didn’t tell me Sol Rosen was your private party, Max,” he hissed harshly.

  Max turned on the step. “He isn’t. It’s Eli’s party. For his sister. She just got back from Europe or somewhere. Tell you the truth, I didn’t think the old man would show up.”

  “I’ll take the back way out,” Reuben snapped.

  “Tarz, it’s not my fault. Did I know you were going to stop in this evening? Business is business. You should understand that.”

  Reuben sighed. “You’re right, Max, sorry.”

  At the top of the steps he turned Jane over to a buxom redhead named Delphine. “Take good care of her and see that she’s at the studio for her call at seven. Max”—he turned to the little man and handed him a dollar—“send her in a cab, okay?”

  “She’ll be there. I don’t know what shape she’ll be in, but she’ll be there,” Max promised.

  Reuben left the Mimosa Club by the back stairway, feeling like a thief in the night. He stepped into three inches of water and cursed loudly as Max handed him a huge black umbrella. He accepted it and sloshed through kitchen garbage and debris in the alley. Three times he poked his head from under the umbrella to see if anyone was following him.

  Bebe Rosen was back.

  Bebe’s eyes widened at the sight of Reuben; she could feel her heart fluttering. She wished he would turn around and see her, at which point she would wave gaily and smile. Who was the girl, and where were they going? Upstairs, obviously. To do God only knew what. For weeks now, ever since she’d made the decision to return home, she’d thirsted for the sight of him, and now that she’d seen him she felt terrible, out of sorts. She should be the one he had his arms around, not some nameless girl who appeared to be drunk. Maybe she was a prostitute. Reuben Tarz with a prostitute! Not likely, but then, she really couldn’t figure Reuben. Mickey would certainly be surprised—or would she? Mickey was worldly and would probably take it in her stride. Men weren’t meant to be monks, she’d say with a little laugh. Women, on the other hand, were meant to be virginal until their wedding night. Damn. She’d dreamed, schemed, and planned, looking forward to a surprise meeting with Reuben. He’d see how she’d grown up, how worldly she’d become, and now it was all spoiled. Later, somehow, in some way, she’d go upstairs and see what was going on. If she didn’t, she’d imagine all kinds of terrible things. Catch him, her mind ordered, and tell the girl what he did to you. Let him see she hadn’t forgotten. Damn you, Reuben Tarz.

  “Bebe, you haven’t heard a word I said,” Eli said. “Who are you staring at? We brought Dad here to show him a good time and already you’re popping out.”

  Bebe turned to face him, forcing her thoughts away from Reuben. “That’s nonsense, Eli. I thought for a minute I saw someone I knew, but I was wrong. Remember now, I just arrived home today and I am a little tired.”

  “We could have done this some other time, Bebe,” Sol fretted. “Getting drunk in some gangster’s den of iniquity isn’t my idea of a good time either.”

  “Oh, Daddy, where else is there fun to go? Eli went to a lot of trouble to arrange this, so please don’t spoil the evening. We’ve ordered all your favorite food, and there’s going to be a show later. Be nice to Eli, Daddy. For me, just this once,” Bebe cajoled, batting her eyes at her father.

  Sol’s gaze was paternal and indulgent when he looked down at his beautiful daughter. “All right already. Tonight we’ll call a truce.”

  Eli’s movements were awkward and jittery as he hopped around trying to find the best seat for his father at their reserved table. He would have cheerfully killed to have his father look at him just once the way he looked at Bebe. “Here, Pop, this is the best seat. You’ll be able to see the show real good from here. Max has a couple of great acts. You might see someone the studio can use.”

  Sol bristled. “What do you know about what the studio—”

  “Daddeeeee!…”

  Sol looked at Eli with disgust. “Maybe I’ll…I’ll keep my eyes open.”

  “Now, that wasn’t hard, was it, Daddy?” Bebe said, giving him a kiss. Sol didn’t answer.

  Bebe did her best to have a pleasant evening, but it was an effort to smile at Clovis and compliment her on her latest movie when she joined them at the table. She laughed at Lester Kramer’s roguish antics, but the laughter never reached her eyes. Every ounce of untapped energy went into parrying compliments with Damian Farrell, who said over and over that she was the most beautiful creature on earth and worthy of being one of his leading ladies. Twice she tried to make her way to the upstairs section of the club, only to be turned away at the curtained entrance to the stairway and informed that the quarters above were private. It was midnight when she finally told Eli she wanted to go home.

  Sol heaved a sigh of relief and flushed with pleasure when Clovis linked her arm through his and thanked him for a lovely evening. “Eli arranged it, don’t thank me,” he said gruffly.

  “By the way, Sol, where was Reuben this evening?” Lester Kramer asked. He turned to Bebe and smacked his hands together in delight. “That is one young man who just might turn your head, little girl.” Bebe smiled wanly.

  “My sister’s too smart to fall for a creep like Tarz,” Eli spat out. “Aren’t you, Bebe?”

  “Eli, stop acting like my big brother,” Bebe said, artfully avoiding his question. “Daddy, you didn’t answer Lester.”

  “This was Eli’s party, I had nothing to do with the guest list,” Sol said, heading for the door.

  “Tarz is a brilliant fellow,” Farrell said. “I rather like the chap. He’s done all right by me, and I have no complaints.”

  “I agree,” Kramer added. “How about you, Clovis, what do you think about Sol’s new assistant?”

  Clovis rolled her eyes and pretended to swoon. “If I was a little younger, I’d want his shoes under my bed. Wait till you meet him, Bebe, you’ll fall for him the way every female on the lot has. Unfortunately, he has eyes for none of the beauties, and that includes me,” she said haughtily. “Ask your father what he thinks of him.”

  Bebe shook her head wearily. She hated the look on Eli’s face. Poor, poor Eli. Tomorrow she would ask him why he hadn’t invited Reuben.

  The good-nights over, the Rosens piled into Eli’s car. He ground the gears, knowing full well his father was thinking him inept and bungling. He pretended not to hear his father’s muffled curse.

  Bebe’s first sight of the house in Benedict Canyon brought tears to her eyes. The mansion was ablaze in a soft light that spilled out and over the manicured shrubs, bathing them in a soft golden glow. She was home. Tonight she would sleep in her own bed, in her own room. She knew she would dream because she always dreamed when she was upset or overtired. Tonight she was both. Reuben would be in her dreams, and so would Eli. The two young men in her life—one strong and arrogant, the othe
r weak and ineffectual. But was Reuben in her life? Of course he was, he would always be tied to her in one way or another. After all, he had stolen her most priceless gift, her virginity. She would never allow him to forget what he did to her.

  Reuben Tarz belonged to her by right of rape.

  Bebe was just about to turn out the light and snuggle into her covers when Eli appeared with two cups of hot cocoa. “Just like old times, eh? I always brought you cocoa, do you remember?”

  “Eli, I haven’t been gone for thirty years. Of course I remember. You want to talk, is that it?”

  Eli set the cups down carefully. “If you aren’t too tired. Did you have a good time this evening? I did it for you. I’m so glad you’re home, Bebe. God, I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too,” Bebe lied. She wished he would leave; he was stinking up her room with his stale liquor breath, and he reeked of cigarette smoke. But he was her brother and she owed him at least her attention for a few minutes. She sighed wearily. “What’s bothering you?”

  “Tarz. Wait till you meet him. He’ll bother you, too. He’s goddamn taken over the studio. He’s like horseshit, he’s everywhere. Do this, do that…make this, don’t make that…. He tells Pop what to do and Pop does it. He must have some kind of hold on him. He’s a smart aleck, sis. Pop should have given me the chance to work with him. He’s always grousing about what I do and don’t do. Wouldn’t you think he’d take me in and show me the ropes? Oh, no, he hires an outsider! Who the hell is that guy, anyway?”

  Bebe pondered the question sleepily. “I guess he’s someone who knows how to run a motion picture company. Everyone says he’s doing a good job. Don’t you think so?”

  “What’s that got to do with it? How does Pop know I wouldn’t do a good job? He’s never given me the chance. All the other studio heads hire sons and sons-in-law, why can’t Pop? He hates me, that’s why.”

  “Blow your nose, Eli, and stop crying. Grown men don’t cry. It…it isn’t…manly.”

  “You never minded before. You said if crying made me feel better, it was okay. You’ve changed, Bebe,” Eli accused her.

  “I might have said that then, this is now. I’d bet Reuben Tarz never cried, even when he was a child. He has that look, if you know what I mean.”

  “How do you know what he looks like? You’ve never seen him, have you?” Eli said, staring at his sister suspiciously.

  “Oh, Eli, you are such a little boy,” Bebe said, thinking fast. “Everyone was talking about how he looks tonight. I just made up my own image of the man, and that image wouldn’t cry. I’m so tired, sweetie, what say we call it a night. We have all day tomorrow to talk.”

  “We didn’t drink the cocoa. I thought this would be like old times…. Oh, all right, I’ll go,” Eli said peevishly. At the door he turned. “It’s you and him now, right? Before we were allies, now I’m on the outside looking in. Thanks, Bebe. Thanks for nothing.”

  Bebe flung herself back into the nest of pillows after Eli had left. Damn. When was he going to grow up? She hadn’t responded to the “him” because she didn’t know if Eli meant her father or Reuben.

  Why hadn’t she admitted to knowing Reuben? To spare Eli’s injured feelings? She wondered then if her father had mentioned that she knew Reuben. No, of course not, they never spoke to each other unless it was to complain about something. Certainly they never shared confidences or carried on a normal conversation. Poor, poor Eli. One of these days she would speak to Reuben about him. There must be something he could do at the studio. One more family member wouldn’t make a difference.

  Bebe tried to drift into sleep, but Eli was too much in her thoughts. At last she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Why me? she asked herself as she padded down the hall to Eli’s room. She knocked softly and called his name, then opened the door a crack and called him again. “Go away!” came the muffled reply.

  Oh, God, he’s crying again. Bebe thought angrily as she pushed into the room. “Eli, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to. It’s just that I’m bone tired. I was seasick so many times on the way over that I haven’t fully recovered. Please, forgive me.” She kissed his splotchy face and winced at the puckered, angry-looking skin. She ran her hands through his hair the way she used to. She didn’t remember his hair being so full of pomade, but then, she probably hadn’t noticed a lot of things about Eli. She patted his back, trying to wipe the pomade on his pajama top. “It will be all right, Eli. I’ll make sure it’s all right. Go to sleep now. I’ll stay here with you till you’re sound asleep.”

  Bebe stayed with her brother for a long time. When she finally got to her feet she thought fleetingly about the dismal state of her family. How would Eli react to the fact that he was an uncle, she wondered. You’ll never know, Eli, that there’s a little boy somewhere in France who’s your nephew. She bent over to drop a kiss on her brother’s cheek. The tears on his lashes revolted her. What was happening to her? She’d always loved Eli. No, she corrected herself, she’d pitied him, felt sorry for him, and tried her best to make things easy for him. Now all she wanted was to be out of his sight.

  Back in her room, she found she still couldn’t sleep, so she drank the cool cocoa. It was so sickeningly sweet, she gagged.

  She punched at her pillow, trying to smooth out a place for her weary head. No matter what she thought about, no matter how she tried to shift her thoughts to other things, Reuben kept intruding. Eli had said something earlier in the evening about going away for the Labor Day weekend. A party Dickie Hastings was throwing. She’d said, of course, she would go and even offered to drive. A whole gang of people, Eli said, starlets and leading men. A bang-up weekend, and he was providing the liquor; of course, that’s why he’d been included. On his own, Eli couldn’t make it out the door. Bebe, Bebe, you are a nasty sister, she scolded herself. She punched at the pillow again and again. This time sleep welcomed her, her dreams full of demons and lovers.

  Reuben Tarz sat alone, contemplating the ceiling. Daniel had gone to bed an hour before and as far as he could tell, he hadn’t moved so much as a muscle since. He himself felt like he was in a stupor, emotionally paralyzed. He remembered his panic attack at the studio earlier in the day and the lengths he’d gone to to appear busy, certain that Bebe would burst into his office and say…what? Jesus, what was happening to him? What was he so afraid of?

  Deep down, he knew. It was his one big fear. He’d refused to think about it, to bring the horrible thing to the surface of his mind, but he had to do it now: If Bebe told her father everything, Sol might kick his ass onto the street. Jesus, where would he go then? What would he do? What would happen to all the plans he’d made for Daniel to go to college?

  At that moment he made a decision—one he hated himself for, but he made it nonetheless. He would woo Bebe. If he had to, he would get down on his knees and apologize. He would smile, he would beg, he would do…anything to keep his job at Fairmont. And the ultimate end? a small voice inside him queried. The ultimate end to any relationship between a man and a woman was…marriage. The thought so paralyzed him, he started to sweat. His breath came in feeble little gasps as he contemplated marriage to Bebe Rosen. And Mickey? the same little voice queried. Mickey was finished with him. He no longer mattered to her, was no part of her life. She hadn’t responded to either him or to Daniel. Bitter tears of defeat burned his eyes. He wanted to cry then, not for his loss, because tears would never erase what he felt, but for what he’d hoped to gain and now would never realize.

  When his emotions were under control, Reuben got stiffly to his feet. He cursed Bebe Rosen with every dirty word he knew, and then he cursed himself the same way.

  When he slid beneath the covers, Reuben gathered the pillow close to his chest. The softness, the cleanness of the pillow slip reminded him of Mickey. His hands caressed the pillow as he gently lowered his head into the feathery down. A tear slipped from his eye, a single tear of loneliness. Mickey’s name fell from his lips as he reached
out for sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  On Thursday afternoon, Reuben met Bebe by accident. He’d rehearsed and schooled himself to act nonchalantly, but nothing prepared him for her breathless greeting and her genuine look of pleasure at seeing him. He forced a smile to his lips that was more of a grimace. “Welcome home, Bebe.”

  Bebe’s eyes were warm and full of excitement as she drank her fill of his lean good looks. “How are you, Reuben? You’re the last person I expected to see on this studio lot. My father tells me you’re doing a…remarkable job for the studio. I think that’s wonderful!”

  Reuben almost grinned. “This…nasty, arrogant man thanks you for the compliment.”

  “Oh, poo, you heard me.” She waved a hand airily to dismiss the words. “I was just in a cranky mood. After all, I’d just arrived and hadn’t even been home. Say you forgive me.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive. Sometimes I am arrogant and nasty. Did you enjoy your trip home?”

  Bebe laughed, a tinkling sound Reuben remembered and didn’t know why. Her perfume was still the same. He wanted to sniff, to smell his fill of her, but he caught himself.

  “I was seasick most of the time.”

  Reuben had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t ask, but the words came unbidden to his lips. “How is Mickey? Daniel’s been wondering how Jake is.”

  “Mickey is just wonderful,” Bebe lied, watching his eyes. “I never saw a busier person. She allowed me to stay in the Paris house for a few months. I thought that was wonderfully kind of her. And Jake is doing just fine at Yvette and Henri’s farm. I stopped to visit them. It was like old times except you and Daniel weren’t there. I swear, Reuben, I think I was the only one who missed you two. Listen, I have to run. Tell Daniel I’ll look him up in the next day or so. I can’t wait to see him.” She blew him a kiss and was off before he could blink, her perfume drifting behind her.