by Susan Lewis
It was right on the tip of Sandy’s tongue to suggest lunch, but she didn’t quite have the nerve. She wasn’t in that kind of position yet. Besides, he was bound to have a prior engagement, and even if he didn’t she couldn’t bear the idea of him turning her down in front of other people. Not only that, there was a chance she was jumping to conclusions about the promotion and her heart started to thud with unease as she thought of what else it could be. But surely he couldn’t have found out about the conversations she’d had with some of the actors and writers out of the office. And even if he had, they could hardly be considered her fault. She never instigated them and what was she to do when there was nothing an artiste loved more than to bitch about his or her agent?
Walking into the ladies, she let the door swing to behind her and stood staring at herself in the full-length mirror. She looked good, and taking a deep breath she held it and waited for the fear and nerves to drain out of her. In half an hour she was going to go in there, smart and confident and ready to take on whatever challenge he threw her way. And after that … Her eyes closed as she allowed herself to dream of the day when he would realize that the real great love of his life wasn’t doing noble and dangerous things in far flung places of the world, but was sitting right here, under his very nose.
Michael had just finished his fourth call of the morning when Jodi’s voice came back on the intercom. ‘The High Fliers production office on line one,’ she told him. ‘Surprise on line two. And Sandy’s still waiting.’
‘What kind of surprise?’ he said dubiously, while scanning a billings sheet and picking up a stale cup of coffee.
‘Live dangerously,’ she responded and promptly put the call through.
‘Hello? Michael? Are you there?’
The voice was faint, but not to the point that Michael didn’t know instantly who it was and snatching up the receiver, he pressed it firmly to his ear. ‘Hey! Cavan!’ he cried down the line to his younger brother. ‘We were about to book the memorial.’
Cavan laughed. ‘It’s good to hear your voice,’ he said. ‘How’s Ma?’
‘Knitting – and dying to hear from her favourite son.’
‘Knitting? Is our Colleen preggers again?’
‘Cavan, it’s due in a couple of weeks so don’t for Christ’s sake let on you forgot. Where are you?’
‘Manaus.’
Michael’s brow creased as he did a rapid tour of the world. ‘Manaus, Brazil?’ he said.
Cavan laughed. ‘Is there anywhere on this godforsaken planet you’ve never heard of?’ he said.
‘Manaus is famous,’ Michael responded. ‘The Paris of the Tropics. So what are you doing there? How did you get there?’
‘We sailed along the Amazon. You’ve got to do this trip, Michael, it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen in your life. We got into Manaus a couple of days ago, but we’ve only just left the ship.’
‘We? Ship? What happened to the Lazy Lou?’
‘I left her in Tortola.’
‘So what are you doing in Brazil, oh Cabral of the great discoveries?’
‘Rescuing Indians.’
‘Indians? Last time it was otters.’
‘Seals.’
‘How much are the Indians going to cost?’
‘A question for your conscience.’
‘I’ll give you five hundred, and I want my name on the title deeds to a rain forest. It’s tax deductible. Where does the ship come into it?’
‘It’s a cruise ship. I worked my passage here.’
‘You’re earning money?’ Michael cried in amazement. ‘Do you know what to do with it?’
‘Sure, I drink it. I miss you.’
‘We all miss you. Can you get back for your birthday? It would make Clodagh happy.’
‘I’m aiming for it,’ Cavan answered. ‘I should be heading down to Rio in a couple of weeks. They’ve found a wreck, sixty miles or so off the coast. The experts are going down some time next week, but word is it dates back to the seventeenth century.’
‘I thought you were rescuing Indians, now you’re dredging up Conquistadors.’
‘It’s a busy life, Michael,’ Cavan answered, the grin audible in his voice. ‘Anyway, I’ve got to go. Send Clodagh my love. Tell her I’ll call at the weekend if I can. And thanks for the donation. I’ve already given Jodi the address to send it to.’
‘Now why doesn’t that surprise me,’ Michael said drolly. ‘Take care of yourself. Até a vista.’
As the line went dead, Michael was smiling and shaking his head in exasperation. They were a close family by any standards, but Cavan held an extra-special place in all their hearts, possibly because he was so much younger than Michael and Colleen, but more probably because there was nothing about Cavan, from the top of his shambolic head to the soles of his oversized feet, that it was possible not to love.
The lad was going to be twenty-three in less than six weeks; it was hard to believe how fast the years had gone. Harder still, Michael found, was convincing himself that Cavan was old enough to take care of himself now, even if he did need a little financial back-up here and there. Actually, it wasn’t Cavan who needed the back-up, it was Cavan’s causes, as the fertile nature of his concerns was only matched by the cavernous hole in his coffers. Michael tried to imagine Cavan sitting behind a desk and almost laughed out loud. Since dropping out of university three years before, Cavan had either driven, walked, cycled, but more often than not sailed the globe in search of adventure. And he had found plenty, that was for sure. The Lazy Lou, a ten-year-old, thirty-foot catamaran, had been a gift from Michael in an effort to provide his wayward brother with something akin to a home. What it had also provided was an escape for the brothers as often as Michael could make it, when they would fish, or dive, or simply sail aimlessly off towards the horizon in pursuit of nothing more than each other’s company.
‘Michael?’ Jodi’s voice came over the intercom. ‘The guy from Esquire is on the line again, what do you want me to tell him?’
Michael thought for a moment. ‘Tell him how Zelda helps me deal with my Oedipus fixation, then call Hello and tell them to be there to curse the wedding.’
‘Very funny.’
‘Not really. Tell him I’ll stick to the agreement if I get copy approval. If he goes for it I’ll call him around four this afternoon.’
‘OK. Sandy’s wondering when she should come in?’
Michael’s spirits instantly sank. ‘Is she there?’ he said.
‘She’s just popped to the loo.’
He thought for a moment, then, realizing it wasn’t fair to put it off any longer he said, ‘Send her in when she gets back. Meantime, get on to Interflora and have them deliver some flowers to Fiona. She’s at rehearsals today, in Kensington. Make it a big bunch, I’ve got some making up to do.’
‘And that’s all you’re giving her, flowers?’ Jodi cried in feminine disgust.
Michael was stymied for a moment, then, with a wicked twinkle in his eyes he said, ‘If I told you what else I had in mind, Jodi, they’d take us off the air. So you just see to the flowers, OK, and leave the rest to me.’
‘Over and out,’ she responded.
Michael was still smiling when Sandy came in a few minutes later, which was lucky, for there was something about Sandy Paull that made him want to do anything but smile.
‘Hi,’ she said, closing the door behind her. ‘Oops!’ she laughed as a sheaf of papers cascaded from a file she was carrying to the floor.
Despite his antipathy, Michael couldn’t stop himself looking at her shapely rear as she bent to retrieve the papers. He wondered if she’d dropped them on purpose but decided not to pursue that, for he had no desire to go where it would inevitably lead.
‘Sorry,’ she said, straightening up and smiling straight into his eyes. ‘I’m a real butter-fingers.’
Slightly disconcerted by the directness of her stare, Michael shifted in his seat and tried not to notice the swell of her breasts as she c
ame towards him. He was sure they hadn’t been so noticeable during the meeting, or maybe more buttons than she realized had popped open on her jacket. Whatever, for such a small and compact woman, there were times when she had a way of displaying herself that made her about as easy to ignore as a Playboy centrefold.
‘I thought I’d take this opportunity,’ she said, putting the file on his desk and spinning it round for him to see, ‘to give you what I have so far on the Cherchez auditions.’ As she leaned forward he received a generous view of a soft and pliable breast cradled by a black lace bra.
He lowered his eyes quickly, but knew she had seen him looking. ‘I’ll go over it later,’ he said, closing the file and sliding it to one side. ‘For the moment there’s something else I need to discuss with you.’ He gestured towards the chair she was standing next to. ‘Please sit down,’ he said.
Sandy smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘But I was wondering,’ her voice faltered for a moment and a faint colour rose in her cheeks. ‘Uh, as it’s twelve thirty already, maybe you’d like to talk over lunch. My treat,’ she added with a self-conscious laugh.
Despite his efforts to appear friendly, Michael felt his jaw tighten. ‘Thank you,’ he said politely, ‘but I already have a lunch date.’
Though her smile remained, he saw the warmth seep from it and half expected to see her thick, glossy pink lipstick start to run.
‘I was talking to Fiona Atkins yesterday,’ he said, as she sat down.
The pause in her movement was barely perceptible, but it was enough to tell him that, despite the innocent curiosity on her face, she knew exactly what he was coming to.
‘She was extremely upset,’ he continued.
Sandy’s expression flooded with concern. ‘Oh?’ she said, putting her head to one side. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Nothing serious, I hope.’
Michael took a breath. ‘She was upset for several reasons,’ he said, ‘the first being the way you had spoken to her on the phone when she called on Tuesday.’
Sandy’s eyes widened and a small ringed hand moved to her cleavage. ‘Whatever I said, I’m sorry,’ she told him earnestly. ‘But I think she must have misunderstood, because I’d never say anything to upset her. At least, not intentionally.’
‘She claims you were rude when she asked you to give me a message.’
Sandy frowned. ‘What message?’ she said.
‘That’s what I was hoping you could tell me,’ he replied, admiring her performance as much as he abhorred it. ‘She claims you told her that I’d asked not to be interrupted, which I know was true, and you’d pass her message on if I wasn’t too busy later.’ He rested his chin on his bunched hands. ‘Do you have the message?’ he asked.
Sandy was looking perplexed. ‘But she didn’t leave a message,’ she replied. ‘All she said was to tell you she’d called, which I would have done if you hadn’t already gone by the time I came in to tell you.’
Michael’s bottom lip jutted forward. ‘She says there was a message, a very specific one, in fact.’ His manner was mild, but underneath he was seething. ‘Is she lying?’ he asked.
Sandy’s wide eyes moved around the room, as though hunting out a response. Then, with a small, uncomfortable laugh she said, ‘Look, I know Fiona is a close friend of yours, so I’m in a very awkward position now, aren’t I? I mean, on the one hand I don’t want to call her a liar, but on the other I don’t want to own up to not passing on a message I know nothing about.’
To his surprise, Michael felt suddenly sorry for her, though was at a loss to say why. The moment was only fleeting. ‘You’re aware, I’m sure,’ he said, ‘of how much trust I put in you because of how closely you work with Jodi. And I’m afraid, Sandy, that this isn’t the first time a friend of mine has complained about your telephone manner, which is leading me to wonder how many other messages haven’t got through. In Fiona’s case she was left sitting in a restaurant for an hour and a half waiting for me to turn up, which of course I failed to do.’
He could see the heat colouring her cheeks as a convincing blend of hurt and confusion clouded her eyes. ‘So you’re calling me a liar?’ she said, swallowing.
Michael sighed. ‘What I’m calling you is stupid for thinking you could get away with it,’ he said. ‘So in future maybe you’ll make sure that all messages are on my desk by the end of the day at the latest, and when we’ve finished here I’d appreciate it if you called Fiona yourself and apologized for the misunderstanding.’
‘But …’
‘Is that clear?’ he barked.
‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘But she didn’t leave a message. At least not with me.’
For a moment he was sorely tempted to let rip, for getting angry with Sandy Paull held the promise of an extremely pleasurable experience. It was only when he realized how deeply he wanted to let go, how tempting, almost irresistible, the prospect of hurting and humiliating her suddenly was, that he firmly reined in his control.
‘Let’s leave it there,’ he said, picking up his cold coffee as though it were a barrier he could put between them. Then, making a supreme effort to lighten his mood he said, ‘I imagine you probably know how many people have been in here banging the drum for you, so I’ll spare your blushes and tell you that I’m prepared to let you take over as Diana’s assistant until Marlene comes back after the baby.’
He watched her as she struggled to deal with the sudden move from misery to euphoria and felt rotten, for he’d known he would ruin her moment by bringing up the problem with Fiona first. He wondered if that was why he had done it, to get some kind of sadistic revenge in wrong-footing her the way her sexuality and shyness wrong-footed him.
‘I’m sorry.’ She laughed. ‘It’s just … Well, I’m sure you know, I’ve been really hoping … I won’t let you down. I swear it.’
He forced a smile. ‘That’s a relief,’ he said, making a joke that didn’t quite come off. ‘I should also tell you,’ he went on, ‘that if Janey’s agreeable, which I know she will be, I’d like you to act as her assistant too. If you think it’s too much to take on …’
‘No!’ Sandy cried. ‘I’d be happy to. I was going to ask, but I didn’t quite know how to.’
Her uncertainty was as plain as her childlike eagerness to please him and, feeling he had been unnecessarily unkind in the way he had treated her, he found himself saying, ‘You should think about building up a list of your own, once you get settled into assisting. Unless, of course, you want to go back to being a clerk at the end of the six months.’
Sandy’s amazement showed. ‘No, of course not,’ she said hurriedly. She looked down at her hands, bunched in her lap, then returned her eyes to his. ‘I really don’t know how to thank you for this,’ she said simply.
Gone was the amateur vamp. In her place was a grateful, pretty young girl who looked more out of her depth than Michael had ever seen her before. ‘Just prove you’re as good as they say you are,’ he responded. ‘And don’t be a stranger in the evenings. The job comes with a great social life, so make sure you take advantage. It’s where most of the business gets done.’
Sandy looked at him. ‘You can count on me,’ she assured him. ‘After work, the thing I love best is to … socialize.’
His expression was unreadable as he looked back at her, but the way she had turned socialize into a euphemism for something else had not passed him by. He wasn’t sure, as he continued to stare, whether he was more repelled by the idea or surprised by her nerve. Her neck, he could see, was blotched with a telltale colour, her breasts were rising and falling like those of a woman about to make love.
‘OK, you can go now,’ he said, picking up his pen. ‘Liaise with Diana and Marlene about a hand-over period and tell Jodi she can get on to an agency for a temp to cover your old job.’
To his relief she went without uttering another word, leaving her expensive scent lingering in the air and the promise of her body clear in his mind. He sat where he was, staring blankly at the script
in front of him. His breath felt suddenly short, his throat was tight and the partial erection in his trousers appalled him. This certainly wasn’t the first time he’d felt the urge to screw Sandy Paull, and he could only thank God for how swiftly and easily he managed to suppress it.
Pressing his fingers to his eyes, he took a deep and bewildered breath. He couldn’t remember ever coming across a woman who affected him the way she did. He hoped to God he never let it show, for he despised her almost as much as he desired her. She felt like a sickness, an aberration; it was as though she walked the darker side of his instincts like some kind of she-devil, exposing his weaknesses and mirroring his depravity. Yet there was that other side of her, the one that appeared tender and vulnerable, so easily hurt and bemused by his cruelty. It was a side he tried hard not to see, for in his soul he feared it would be his undoing.
He looked across to the door, half expecting to see her, still standing there like some gaunt and ghostly image of Medusa. Then suddenly Jodi’s voice burst into the office announcing an emergency on the set of Invisible Difference, and Sandy Paull and her almost naked breasts were, for the moment at least, forgotten.
Chapter 9
‘ELLEN, I’VE GOT Patty Dreyfuss on the other line,’ Felicia, Ellen’s latest secretary, told her, popping her head round the door to find Ellen with a phone tucked into her shoulder as she verified a residual agreement on her computer. ‘She’s saying the movie’s gone into turnaround.’
‘Hold on, Bob,’ Ellen said, sliding something into a pile of screenplays as she glanced at the secretary and wished she could remember the girl’s name. ‘Extravagance has been shelved?’ she said incredulously. ‘When did she hear?’
‘A couple of minutes ago,’ Felicia responded. ‘Shall I put her on.’
‘No, I can’t talk to her now,’ Ellen replied. ‘Put her on to Rob Weinberg in legal, he’ll go through the detail with her. Did you hear anything from Clyde Russell on the Manhattan deal yet?’
‘Not yet,’ Felicia answered, looking down at her notepad. ‘But Krissie Dicks called to say her shoot dates for Madness have been put back and they’re clashing now with Madame Bovary.’
