Twice the Temptation

by Francis Ray

  Hearing conversation behind him where there was supposed to be none since auditions were in progress, Sebastian twisted in his seat and saw Roscoe’s portly body coming down the middle aisle. He wasn’t alone.

  Sebastian stood. The hellish day was nipping at his heels again.

  “Hello, Sebastian,” Roscoe greeted. “You know my lawyer, Shelton Jackson.”

  “Yes.” Sebastian extended his hand. “Shelton. I don’t have to ask why you’re here.”

  Shelton smiled, showing even white teeth, and Sebastian thought he knew exactly how a trapped animal felt as it stared into the grinning jaws of a predator about to gobble him up. “Good afternoon, Sebastian. I’m just tagging along. We all want A Matter of Trust to be a success.”

  Sebastian’s brows arched at the smooth-talking Shelton, whose meticulous style of dress in a three-thousand-dollar, handmade, midnight blue Brioni suit with white stripes made Roscoe in his off-the-rack plaid golf pants and bright yellow polo shirt appear out of place and very unlikely to have the brainpower to have amassed millions in the unpredictable entertainment industry.

  Not so. Roscoe was as sharp as they came and had reached the enviable point in his life where he did things to please himself—much to Sebastian’s increasing dismay. “Nicely said, Shelton, but we all know you’re here to remind me that the contract I signed would be costly and difficult to get out of, and that Roscoe is the major backer for the play and without his money, we close before we open.”

  “Now, Sebastian, there is no need to be concerned,” Roscoe said, easing his hefty weight into one of the blue-cushioned chairs. “We need each other. You pull out and we both lose a lot of money. You could find another backer, but why bother when we have always worked so well together in the past?”

  “I don’t want Margot,” Sebastian said flatly.

  Shelton casually unbuttoned his suit jacket, sat down, then placed his handmade leather attachè case by his highly polished wing tips. “The contract stipulates you and Roscoe are to be in agreement, but if an agreement can’t be reached, as owning sixty percent to your fifteen percent, Roscoe gets the final call.”

  “You never interfered before, Roscoe,” Sebastian reminded him.

  The older man shrugged. “So, I’m entitled.”

  Sebastian glanced at Shelton. Shelton smiled.

  Trying to keep the expletive locked behind his teeth, Sebastian sat in the seat beside Roscoe. “Try to understand that the woman needed for this part has to be able to display a wide range of emotions. She has to be able to appear innocent and vulnerable at the beginning, then despondent when she is betrayed, vengeful and enraged when she decides to pay Lawson back for framing her for embezzlement, leery of Nolan’s interest in her initially, then indecisive when she has to choose between Nolan’s love or revenge against his brother, Lawson.”

  Stretching out his short legs in front of him, Roscoe leaned back in his seat and folded his hands over his wide girth. “That’s why my money’s on Margot. That woman up there now sure can’t cut it.”

  “We’ve just begun the auditions,” Sebastian defended, hoping somewhere offstage was an actress who would blow their socks off. “Margot is a great actress, I grant you, but she can also cause havoc on the set. If you want this production brought in on time and on budget, then scratch Margot’s name.”

  “I don’t know,” Roscoe said, shaking his head as another actress took the stage and began Eleanor’s monologue. “Looks like we need Margot. She told me she wants this part very much. Seems to me she’d do as you suggested.”

  Sebastian barely kept from cringing as the hopeful actress on stage screeched her rage and flailed her arms around at the man who had sent her to prison for five years. Subtlety wasn’t her strong suit. “Margot only does what anyone says as long as it pleases her.”

  Roscoe glanced at Sebastian out of the corner of his eye. “She said you might not like having her. I know it’s hard since she broke up—”

  Sebastian came up in his seat and gave Roscoe his full attention. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Don’t get huffy, Sebastian,” Roscoe chided gently. “Even an aficionado like you strikes out sometimes. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

  “Later, maybe—because it didn’t happen with Margot,” Sebastian said, tired of hearing again that Margot had dumped him after the play he directed her in closed last year. Usually he didn’t bother correcting the lie Margot had spread. This time was different. Margot was using the lie to try to get the lead in his play. Never. “I was the one who called the relationship off.”

  Roscoe appeared thoughtful as he twirled his thumbs. The woman exited stage left and another took her place. “Then you don’t mind if I take her out.”

  Sebastian’s eyebrows bunched. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of Margot being wife number four.”

  “Margot is too emotional for a wife. I like someone at home waiting for me with a nice dinner, my slippers, and my Havana,” Roscoe said.

  Shelton snorted. “You’ve been reading too many scripts, Roscoe. That woman no longer exists.” He shook his dark head. “I thought my sister-in-law would make the perfect, efficient wife for me.”

  “You wanted to marry Gabe’s wife?” Sebastian asked in astonishment. The three of them had known each other since Sebastian moved to New York. Gabe had once been Sebastian’s stockbroker before he quit and became a full-time artist.

  “Yeah,” Shelton said, without a hint of embarrassment. “But that was before Gabe got his hands on her and turned her into Ms. Indestructible Independent. Now she’s four months pregnant, on the president’s list in grad school, volunteers one night a week at a shelter, and cooks the best meals you ever tasted three nights a week.”

  “Who cooks the other four?” Roscoe asked.

  “Gabe does three and they eat out once a week at a different restaurant.” Shelton shook his head. “Women. You just can’t trust them to be what they seem.”

  All three men nodded.

  “You can say that again,” Sebastian said. “Just this afternoon the woman who edged my hair tried to convince me she could play the lead in A Matter of Trust.”

  “You’re sure it wasn’t just a come-on?” Roscoe asked with narrowed eyes.

  “No. She was serious.”

  “Since you’re not bald, you must have turned her down after she finished with your head,” Shelton said jokingly.

  “I did.”

  Sighing, Roscoe turned back to the stage. “Maybe you should have let her come. She couldn’t do much worse than some of these women.”

  “This one may not be able to act, but with a face and body like that she doesn’t have to,” Shelton commented as he sat up and braced his arms on the back of the seat in front of him. “I’d like to know her better.”

  “My goodness.” Sebastian slowly came to his feet. Even though she was wearing an auburn wig, he’d know those fantastic legs and that incredible face anywhere. “That’s her.”

  “Her who?” Shelton asked.

  “My barber,” Sebastian said, unaware of his possessive tone.

  “Are you sure?” Roscoe asked, leaning closer for a better look.

  “I want her name and the address of the shop,” Shelton said, coming to his feet as well. “That’s one woman who could work on my head as well as any other part of my body she wanted to.”

  Not to be outdone, Roscoe rose. “You’re stronger than I thought, Sebastian, if you turned her down. Maybe you were telling the truth about Margot.”

  Sebastian wasn’t listening, he was watching as Hope, head high, shoulders erect, wearing a white blouse and little black skirt, crossed to center stage. She held something in her hand, but it was hidden behind her back. She stopped and looked straight at him.

  He took an involuntary step backward. Hatred, pure and sharp, stared back at him.

  This was it, Hope thought as she watched the shocked expression on Sebastian’s face. This was her chance to prove to the snooty
Mr. Hotshot Director that she had what it took to star in his play. Not good enough? She’d show him. Just thinking about his put-down made her blood begin to boil all over again.

  Instead of trying to repress her anger, she used it to her benefit. Adrenaline rushed through her and she felt almost heady with its power. Fear was impossible. Her character, Eleanor, had no fear. Only a purpose.

  By slow degrees, her hand came from behind her back to reveal the seven-inch blade of a mock butcher knife. Gracefully, she sank to her knees. The bound actor’s shocked gaze darted from her to the gleaming blade.

  “I’m going to kill you, Lawson.” Eleanor’s voice was icy cold and utterly controlled. “Not quickly, but slowly and with agonizing pain. You were so easy to lure here. You were actually stupid enough to think that you were such a magnificent lover that I could forget you were the reason I spent the last five years in prison. You were so eager to take me from Nolan, as you’ve taken all of your life from others, that you let your selfish greed lead to your destruction.” Eleanor smiled, a flash of teeth and heartless black eyes.

  “Struggle all you want, but the ropes around your wrists and feet won’t budge. I thought it best, since before you die I intend to take that part of you that you value the most.” She ran the knife in her hand up the inside of his thigh. “Are you whimpering behind your gag, Lawson? Not very manly of you. But then, you always were a coward. Worse, you’re a treacherous coward, and now you have to pay.”

  Her voice hitched, wavered. “Nolan will be so distraught by your death, and so will I. I’ll consider it my duty to console him. Comfort him.”

  Her head fell forward. Tears dropped on the tip of the butcher knife and slid to the wooden handle. Seconds later, laughter erupted as she threw her head back triumphantly, her eyes gleaming. “I thought I did that very well, didn’t you? No one will suspect that I killed you. After you’re buried, I will become Nolan’s wife, sleep in his arms, and forget I ever allowed you to touch me. Now, which do you want to lose first, the right or the left?”

  Eleanor brought the knife up and plunged downward again and again. Crackling laughter erupted. “You should have loved me. You should have loved me. Now you’ll love no one.”

  “On second thought, I don’t want to know how to contact her,” Shelton said, his words hushed and unsteady.

  “Shhhh,” Sebastian said, not wanting to miss one word, one gesture, one nuance.

  As gracefully as Hope had sunk to her knees, she rose. For a long moment she and Sebastian stared at each other. Her breath trembled over her slightly parted lips. Her reaction, she was sure, had more to do with the man than with the rush of auditioning on Broadway. But she had nailed the scene. She knew it from the look of rapt astonishment on his face and the stunned relief on the bound actor’s face. She had accomplished what she had come for. Without a backward glance, she walked off the stage.

  “If I can speak now …” Shelton began, then continued by saying, “your barber has been wasting her talents. She’s nothing short of brilliant.”

  “Brilliant,” Roscoe echoed.

  “She’s Eleanor,” Sebastian said, excitement running through his veins.

  “Too bad we can’t cast her,” Roscoe said, taking his seat.

  Sebastian rounded on him. “What are you talking about?”

  “I admit she’s fabulous, but we both know we need someone with experience to play the role,” the producer reminded him.

  “She said she had acted before.” Sebastian wanted Hope for the part and he intended to have her.

  “Then why didn’t you let her audition?” Shelton wanted to know.

  “Bad decision on my part, it seems. Excuse me.” Exiting the row, Sebastian rushed up to the stage. He looked among the group of audition hopefuls, but Hope wasn’t among them. He went to his assistant, Roger Kurt. “Where is Hope Lassiter?”

  “She left,” Roger said, glancing at his clipboard. “I tried to get her to stay, but she said she had to go home. She was something, wasn’t she?”

  “Where are her credits?”

  Roger handed Sebastian a neatly typed sheet of paper. “Figured you would want to see hers.”

  With each credit he read, Sebastian’s certainty grew that Hope could play the lead. The list of New York performances and tours was impressive. The last notation was five years ago, when she had the lead in the off-Broadway production of A Raisin in the Sun. She must have stopped when she became pregnant with Jeremy, but why hadn’t she returned? Where was the father?

  Sebastian admitted his interest in the answers had nothing to do with casting her for the part of Eleanor, but asked anyway. “Do you know anything about her other than what’s here?”

  Roger shook his sandy head. “No. Sorry. You want me to try and find out from the union?”

  “No, I’ll do it,” Sebastian said, studying the credits again as if that would give him the answers he sought.

  “Shall we continue?” Roger asked.

  Sebastian’s dark head came up. He had his Eleanor, but she’d need an understudy. “Yes.” The sheet of paper in his hand, he bounded down the steps off the stage, went back to Roscoe, and handed Hope’s credits to him. “After you read this, you’ll change your mind about casting Hope.”

  Roscoe scanned the page, then gave it back. “If she’ll take the part.”

  Sebastian frowned. “Of course she’ll take the part. Why wouldn’t she? She approached me about it.”

  “And you turned her down,” the producer reminded him. “I watched her doing her monologue. She was looking at you, Sebastian, and it wasn’t with any fondness.”

  “I don’t think I’d let her cut my hair again if I were you,” Shelton put in.

  “You’re overreacting.” Folding the paper, Sebastian put it in his pocket and took his seat beside Roscoe. “Hope will jump at the chance to play Eleanor.”

  “I hate to rain on your parade, Sebastian, but if she was as anxious as you said, she would have stuck around.” Shelton nodded toward the stage as he sat back down. “I can see two other women who performed earlier, waiting off stage.”

  “She probably went home to see about her son, Jeremy,” Sebastian said, hoping he was right. If Hope hadn’t wanted the part, she wouldn’t have tried out for it. Or would she have?

  “Call her,” Roscoe urged. “Her number is on her credits.”

  “She’s probably not home,” Sebastian hedged.

  Roscoe turned around in the seat, his gaze narrowed. “I saw a mobile phone listing.”

  Annoyance pricked Sebastian. “Why are you pushing this?”

  “Because I’m taking Margot to dinner tonight and I know she’s going to ask me about the auditions.” Roscoe tapped Sebastian’s shirt pocket. “Make the call.”

  Pulling Hope’s information sheet and his cell phone from his pocket at the same time, he punched in her number. She answered on the second ring. “Hello.”

  The husky voice came through loud and clear. Sebastian immediately thought of her lush lips, then chided himself for his lapse. “Hope. Ms. Lassiter, this is Sebast—” Click. Incredulously, Sebastian held the dead phone out in front of him.

  “What happened?” Roscoe asked.

  “She hung up on me,” Sebastian said, still not quite believing it.

  Roscoe stood. “Guess I can tell Margot she’s still in the running.”

  “Hope will come around.” Deactivating the phone, Sebastian replaced it in his pocket.

  “I wouldn’t put money on it if I were you, Sebastian,” Shelton advised. He picked up his attaché case and came to his feet. “I thought I knew what Jessica, my sister-in-law, wanted, knew how to handle her, but as it turns out, I didn’t know squat. The other women I knew got excited over diamonds and influential men. I thought she’d be the same way. She wasn’t then and she isn’t now.

  “Gabe had a small greenhouse built for Jessica because she likes to grow her own herbs, and from the way she was crying and kissing him you would have thought
he had given her a rock the size of a golf ball. His paintings are bringing in big bucks, and although she’s happy people are finally recognizing what a great artist he is, she cares about Gabe, not the money. He always said she was different and had a mind of her own. I didn’t believe him until it was too late. Now they’re going to make me an uncle. Taught me a lesson that women are only predictable in their unpredictability.”

  “This is different.” Sebastian came to his feet.

  “I believe I said those similar words to Gabe, and instead of being the groom, I was the groomsman,” Shelton said with a chuckle. “Once I got over the shock, I didn’t mind losing, but I have a feeling you might.”

  “I’m not going to lose,” Sebastian said. “I want Hope to play Eleanor.”

  “But does Hope want anything to do with you?” Nodding his balding head, Roscoe walked away with Shelton.

  Deep in thought, Sebastian retook his seat. So he’d come down a little hard on her. It had been for her best interests.

  Then he recalled the controlled hatred in her eyes and the knife in her hands, and repressed a shudder. She had ad-libbed that part of Lawson’s kidnapping. Sebastian had an uneasy feeling it was for his benefit.

  Hope Lassiter was turning out to be a woman as complex as Eleanor. Time would tell if she could be as vindictive.

  FOUR

  “Hope, I can’t wait another second,” Bridgett confessed as she sat in Hope’s chair at Della’s House of Style. “All you would say last night when you came home was that you had auditioned for the part, then you had to leave to perform at the community theater and we didn’t get a chance to talk. I could tell you were upset and didn’t want Jeremy to find out, so I didn’t press you for information. The only way I could stand not asking what happened was knowing I was coming here this morning to get my hair done.”

  Pausing in the act of securing a soft white dry towel around Bridgett’s neck, Hope met the other woman’s worried gaze in the mirror. “I ruined any chance of ever acting in any production Sebastian Stone is ever associated with, that’s what happened.”