What I Did for Love by Susan Elizabeth Phillips
“They were such losers. A bunch of parasites living off him. I’m happy to report he’s shaken them off.” He’d shaken everyone off, which seemed odd for someone who’d once kept himself surrounded.
“They’d slip pornographic pictures on my clipboard,” Rory said coolly. “Snap my bra when I walked by. Sometimes worse.”
“And Bram didn’t stop it?”
“I don’t think he knew about the worst of it. But they were his friends, and he was the one who insisted they be allowed on the set. When I tried to talk to him about it, he told me to lighten up.” She draped her wrist over her thigh. “Then one afternoon, two of them cornered me.”
Georgie sat up straight in her chair. “Now I remember. We’d finished shooting for the day, but I’d left a book or something on the set. I went back to get it and saw them pinning you against the wall. I’d forgotten that was you.”
“It was me. You started yelling at them, and you even threw a couple of punches. You might only have been a teenager, but you had a lot more power than a lowly P.A., and they backed off. Afterward you went to the producers. They were banned from the set, and Bram couldn’t do a thing about it.” She tilted her head almost imperceptibly. “I’ve never forgotten the way you went to bat for me.”
“I’m sure anyone would have done the same thing.”
“Who knows? The point is, I don’t forget my friends.”
Georgie thought about Bram. “I’m guessing you don’t forget your enemies either.”
Rory cocked an eyebrow. “Not unless my memory loss will make the studio a lot of money.”
Georgie smiled, then sobered. “If you and Bram didn’t have that old history, would it change the way you feel about Tree House?”
“A studio invests in more than a screenplay. It’s the whole package.”
“And in this case, Bram’s the centerpiece.”
“He doesn’t have any experience with a project like this.”
Bram had been around the business since he was a teenager. It was his character, not his lack of experience, that put Rory off, and she didn’t pull her punches. “He earned his bad reputation, Georgie. He’s let a lot of people down.”
“I know. But…people do change. I’ve never seen him so passionate about anything.”
Rory offered a distant Hollywood smile that meant she’d already made up her mind. With Paul as a father, Georgie had never needed to be pushy, but no one else could fight this particular battle. She desperately wanted a shot at playing Helene, and Bram’s success was her ticket. “I think passion counts for a lot when it comes to making a great film. All the experience in the world doesn’t mean anything if the filmmaker isn’t in love with the project.”
Bram’s genuine passion for Tree House forced her to confront how long it had been since she’d felt that kind of passion for herself. Playing Helene would give it back.
Rory leaned forward and gazed at Georgie with a steady intensity. “If you really want to help Bram, convince him to step aside and let me have the project.”
“Meaning he wouldn’t be the producer…or the leading man.”
“Bram’s a good actor, but this film needs a great actor. He’s too limited.”
Limited. Just as Georgie was supposed to be.
“Enough shop talk.” Rory had made her point, and she deliberately changed the subject. “I hear Jake and Fleur’s daughter is back in L.A.”
Georgie couldn’t push any more, and she let the subject drift to girlfriends.
“Good female friendships require a time investment I’ve never had,” Rory said in her cool way. “But everything has its price, and I love my work, so I’m not complaining.”
Maybe she wasn’t, but Georgie thought she heard regret in her voice. She couldn’t imagine life without the support of her friends, and just before she left, she heard herself invite Rory to tomorrow night’s dinner party.
To her surprise, Rory accepted.
Bram was waiting for her on the other side of the gate. “How did it go?”
“Fine.” Tomorrow would be soon enough to break the news that she’d invited Rory. If she told him now, he’d fly in a French chef and book an orchestra. With her money.
“How fine?”
“I said I wouldn’t sabotage you, and I didn’t.”
“You mean you meant it?”
“I told her you’d matured, and that you have real passion for the project.”
“With a straight face?”
“Yes, with a straight face. Jeez.”
He pulled her into his arms and gave her a long kiss, which was sexy, because he was a sexy kisser, but mainly exuberant, like a killer Doberman confronted with a juicy bone that had been unexpectedly tossed his way. Just like that, she began to melt. And why not? After everything she’d been through, she deserved as much mindless pleasure as she could get.
He curled both hands around her bottom. “Where’s Meg?”
“At a concert. You want a threesome?”
“Not tonight.” He kissed her again. And again. Before long, their hands were all over each other.
He let her go so abruptly she nearly fell. “Chaz! Aaron!” He shot toward the veranda. “Come out here!”
He had to call them twice before they appeared. Aaron had been putting in overtime redesigning her Web site, and a set of Bose headphones hung around his neck. Chaz appeared carrying a brutal-looking chef’s knife. Bram extended a pair of fifty-dollar bills he’d just pulled from his wallet. “You’re both done for the night. Here’s a little bonus for being such loyal employees. Now get out. We’ll see you in the morning.”
Aaron looked at the bills as if he’d never seen money. Chaz unlocked her semipermanent scowl. “I’m in the middle of making dinner.”
“And I know it’ll be delicious for lunch tomorrow.” He took each of them by one arm and nudged them toward the door that opened into the garage, with Chaz protesting the entire time. “At least let me turn off the frickin’ stove before you burn down the house!”
“I’ll handle it.” When Chaz and Aaron were gone, he came after Georgie. Within seconds, he’d locked them in the house. After a quick detour to turn off the stove, they reached the bedroom. His urgency thrilled her, so she frowned at him.
“Don’t you think that was a little…rash?”
“No.” He locked the bedroom door. “Take off your clothes.”
Chapter 15
Don’t make me ask twice,” Bram said when she didn’t react quickly enough.
His air of sexy menace sent a new frenzy of desire rushing through her. This was so blissfully uncomplicated. All he cared about was getting laid, and that was all she cared about, too. Her head was finally screwed on straight enough to enjoy every illicit moment.
“You’re on.” She pulled her top over her head. “Knock yourself out.”
He gazed at her breasts cupped in pale yellow lace, and the way he looked at her filled her with pleasure. She loved feeling desired, never mind that she was merely a convenience.
He snared her wrist. “This time I want a bed. So I can see every inch of you.”
She nearly dissolved, right there in the middle of his bedroom. As she gazed into his smoky lavender eyes, she reminded herself she didn’t care enough about him to ever be hurt. Then he kissed her, and she stopped thinking at all.
This time there was no slow striptease. They threw aside their clothes and fell on each other. Until yesterday, she’d never given herself without love, but now she offered up her body with abandon. He explored every inch, opening her legs, propping one of her ankles on his shoulder. She teased and tormented him in return, not to turn him on, but because she wanted to, because this affair was about her pleasure and not about trying to hold on to a man who didn’t love her.
He was earthy. Thorough. Demanding. Using his fingers, his mouth, his sex. She experienced a blissful, soaring freedom. The final explosion was cataclysmic.
Afterward, she lay limp beneath him, so drained sh
He rolled over on his back, his skin as damp as hers, his mouth curling in a lazy smile. “Let’s face it, you’re a lot of woman for one man to handle.”
She grinned. The air-conditioning kicked on, blowing a cool breeze across their hot bodies. She felt…
She struggled to put a name to her emotions and finally came up with one.
She felt happy.
Bram was the only guy who’d ever been in Chaz’s apartment, but now Aaron was sitting on her couch, his headphones still around his neck, the jack dangling by his knee. He wore farmer jeans and a wrinkled green T-shirt that said all your base are belong to us, which made no frickin’ sense. His curly hair exploded around his round face, and his glasses were crooked. “You can’t stay here,” Chaz said. “You have to leave.”
“I told you. My car keys are in Georgie’s office.”
“Take my car.” Bram had bought her a shiny new Honda Odyssey, but she didn’t like leaving the house unless she had to, so she didn’t use it for much except household errands. Otherwise, she stayed mostly in her apartment. Bram had let her furnish it the way she wanted. She’d chosen modern pieces in chocolate and light brown along with a basic black shelving unit, an angular reading chair, and a couple of simple black-and-white abstract prints. No clutter. No mess. Everything neat and peaceful. Everything except Aaron.
He rubbed his chest through his T-shirt. “My driver’s license is in my wallet, and that’s in Georgie’s office, too.”
“So what? I drove without a license for years.” She’d taught herself to drive at thirteen, figuring she posed less of a danger on the road than her drunken stepmother.
She and Aaron both had door keys, but neither of them was anxious to go back in the house right now. At least her garage apartment was on the opposite side of the house from the master bedroom. She couldn’t imagine having to listen to Bram and Georgie getting it on. She hated Georgie. Hated watching Bram laugh at some stupid thing she said, hated listening to them talk about movies Chaz had never seen. Chaz wanted to be the one who came first with him. Which was stupid.
He’d better have remembered to turn off the stove.
“You’re not sleeping here,” she said.
“Who said I was? I’ll give them some time, then go back in and get my stuff.” He got up and wandered over to her bookcase, which held a TV, cookbooks, and some other books Bram had given her, including some by this important food writer named Ruth Reichl, who talked about how she got interested in food and everything. They were the best books Chaz had ever read.
“You should stop acting like such a bitch around Georgie.” Aaron took one of the Reichl books off the shelf and flipped it over to read what was on the back. “You might as well hang a sign around your neck saying that you’re in love with Bram.”
“I’m not in love with him!” Chaz shot up, grabbed the book from Aaron, and shoved it back on the shelf. “I care about him, and I don’t like the way she treats him.”
“Just because she doesn’t kiss his ass like you do.”
“I don’t kiss his ass! I always tell him exactly what I think.”
“Yeah, and while you’re cussing at him, you’re running around making him special meals and ironing his T-shirts. Yesterday, I saw you jump up to brush some crumbs off a chair before he sat on it.”
“I take care of him because it’s my job, not because I’m in love with him.”
“It seems like more than a job. It seems like your whole life.”
“That’s bullshit. I just…owe him, that’s all.”
“For what?”
For everything.
She turned away from Aaron and went into her tiny galley kitchen. He was too stupid to know the difference between loving someone and being in love. Chaz loved Bram with all her heart, but it wasn’t sex-love. It was like he was the best brother in the universe, one she’d do anything for.
She rooted around in her refrigerator for a Mountain Dew. Aaron had told her he’d gotten addicted to Mountain Dew when he was in college, but she only poured a glass for herself. Chaz had wanted to go to culinary school, not college. After her stepmother died, she’d saved up enough money to come to L.A., but jobs were harder to find than she’d imagined for someone without a high school diploma, and her plan to earn tuition money by working at an expensive restaurant quickly disappeared. She ended up washing dishes and busing tables at a couple of cheap Mexican places, but L.A. was expensive, and even working sixteen-hour days, she still had to dip into her savings to get by.
One day she came home from work and discovered somebody had broken into her crappy rented room and stolen everything she had, including her savings. She told herself not to panic. She might have to cut out a meal here and there, and she wouldn’t be able to buy a car for a while, but she could still make the rent if she worked some extra hours.
She might have done it, too, if she hadn’t gotten struck by a hit-and-run driver as she was crossing the street to the Laundromat. She didn’t suffer anything more serious than some cracked ribs and a broken hand, but she lost both jobs because she couldn’t wash dishes with a cast on. Within a month she was living on the streets.
Aaron came into the kitchen behind her. “Do you have anything to eat? I haven’t had anything since lunch.”
She had a cabinet full of junk food she wasn’t going to tell him about. “Only cereal and some fruit.” She nudged her glass of Mountain Dew behind her toaster where he couldn’t see it, not because she was being mean, but because it wasn’t diet.
“I guess it’s better than nothing,” he said.
She pulled out the cereal box and shoved some fresh strawberries at him, but he started tossing them in the bowl without slicing them, so she pushed him out of the way and did the job herself. She wished she had Special K to give him instead of Frosted Flakes.
The kitchen had a tiny, built-in eating counter. She wiped out her silverware drawer while he ate. She’d already noticed he had good table manners, and she thought his neighbor Becky might like that if she ever noticed him. As he finished his last bite, she pulled the cereal bowl out from under him. “I’m going to cut your hair.”
“You are not. My hair’s fine.”
“It looks like a shrub. Do you want Becky to notice you or not?”
“If she’s so shallow that all she cares about is looks, then I’m not interested in her.” He took in her jeans and black T-shirt. “You’re not exactly an expert on fashion?”
“I have my own style.”
“Well, I have my own style, too.”
“Geek style.” She studied the slogan on his green T-shirt. all your base are belong to us. “What’s that about anyway?”
He rolled his eyes, as if she should know. “Zero Wing. A 1989 Japanese video game. It’s historic. Look it up.”
“Whatever.” She grabbed a pair of scissors from a drawer. “Let’s go in the bathroom. I don’t want your hair all over the place.”
“If you want to cut hair so bad, cut your own.” He snorted and gestured toward her choppy bob. “No, wait. You already did that.”
She liked her hair, and she slammed the scissors on the counter. “You might as well forget about Becky. Or any other woman…because they won’t look at you twice.”
“Why should I take advice from somebody who doesn’t have a life?”
“You think I don’t have a life?”
“I haven’t seen any guys hanging around.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t have a life.” She didn’t tell him she couldn’t stand the idea of being with a man. It hadn’t always been that way. In high school, she’d had two serious boyfriends, and she’d had sex with one of them. He’d turned out to be a jerk, but she’d liked the sex. Not now, though.
Aaron was looking at her like he thought he was her shrink, and that made her so mad, she charged toward him. “Take off those stupid headphones. You look stupid.
“I’ll wait in my car.” He headed out her apartment door, then clomped down the stairs to the back entrance.
She rushed over and called down after him. “Fine! But I have potato chips and Mountain Dew!”
“Good for you.” The door slammed, and everything was quiet.
She went back to the couch and picked up the cookbook she’d been studying. She was glad he’d left. She hadn’t wanted him to stay anyway.
She reached for the notebook she kept on the end table so she could make a list of everything she needed to do before the party tomorrow. Screw him. Now her apartment was just the way she liked it. All hers.
But the notebook slipped from her fingers, and the cookbook dropped to the carpet. She began to cry.
All morning Bram couldn’t seem to keep his clothes on, and by lunchtime, Georgie wanted to hit him in his delectable bare chest. He was either wandering around the backyard in nothing but his swim trunks sipping from one of his bottomless tumblers of scotch or—and this was the kicker—climbing an extension ladder half naked to clean out some gutters he said were clogged, as if anyone in Hollywood cleaned out their own gutters.
He was punishing her for slipping out of bed to spend the rest of the night in her own room. Tough. Their relationship was about debauchery, not the intimacy of nighttime cuddling.
She tried to escape to the kitchen, but Chaz was a total pain, refusing help and ignoring all of Georgie’s suggestions. And Meg was no better. When she saw Georgie carrying around her video camera, she draped a scarf over her head and pretended to be one of Michael Jackson’s kids, which was funny but not exactly what Georgie had in mind to record. She finally shut herself in her room to reread Tree House and think about Helene.
In the afternoon she set the table. Despite the possibility of rain, they were eating on the veranda, which managed to stay dry during all but the biggest storms. She arranged a centerpiece of artichokes, lemons, and eucalyptus leaves in a blue pottery bowl. It was a little lopsided, but she liked the way it accented the bright yellow place mats and cobalt plates. Once she added a couple of chunky candles, it would be perfect.