What I Did for Love by Susan Elizabeth Phillips
Through the lenses of his sunglasses, he took her in from her sweat-damp hair to her purple bikini bottom and then to her bare breasts. The patio was private and she hadn’t expected a visitor, especially this visitor, so here she was, topless when she least wanted to be.
“Enjoying your vacation?” The soft rumble of his voice drifted over her skin like the leading edge of a storm.
She was an actress, the cameras had started to roll, and she found her voice. “Look around. What’s not to love?”
He wandered toward her. “You should have talked to me before you ran out.”
“We don’t have that kind of marriage.” Her arm felt rubbery as she reached for her yellow-and-purple-striped cover-up.
He snatched it from her hand and flicked it across the patio, where it landed on a small table. “Don’t bother getting dressed.”
“Smooth.” She walked over to fetch it, counting slowly under her breath so she didn’t rush, letting her hips sway in the tiny purple bikini bottom—maybe in a last-ditch effort to make him fall in love with her? But he wouldn’t. Bram didn’t fall in love, not because he was as self-centered as he believed, but because he didn’t know how.
She slipped on the cover-up and shook out her hair. “This is a wasted trip. I’m going back to L.A. soon.”
“So I hear from Trev.” His fingers curled into fists at his sides. “I talked to him in Australia a couple of days ago, but I got the full story from the tabs. According to Flash, we’re both moving into his house while he’s on location so we can enjoy summer at the beach.”
“My once-retiring P.A. has turned into quite the media mouthpiece.”
“At least somebody’s watching out for you. What’s going on, Georgie?”
She tried to pull it together. “I’m moving into Trevor’s house. You’re not. It’s a good solution.”
“A solution to what?” He jerked off his sunglasses. “I don’t understand that part—why this happened all of a sudden—so maybe you’d better explain it.”
He was so cold, so angry. “Our future,” she said. “The next phase. Don’t you think it’s time we get on with our lives? Everybody knows you’re working, so it won’t seem strange for me to spend the summer in Malibu. Aaron can keep planting his stories if that’s what you want. You can even show up for a couple of very public beach walks. It’ll be fine.” It wouldn’t be fine at all. Any contact she had with him from now on would only prolong the agony.
“This isn’t how we decided we’d handle it.” He jammed the stems of his sunglasses into the neck of his T-shirt. “We have an agreement. One year. I’m holding you to it, every second.”
He’d insisted on six months, not a year, but she let that go. “You’re not paying attention.” Somehow she pulled off Scooter’s innocent act. “You’re working. I’m at the beach. A couple of public appearances. No one will suspect a thing.”
“You need to be at the house. My house. And I seem to have missed your explanation about why you’re not there.”
“Because it’s long past time I started setting a new course for my life. The beach will be a great place for me to take my first steps.”
The shadows of an African tulip tree cut across his face as he moved closer. “Your present life course is just fine.”
She played the mildly exasperated female even as her heart broke. “I knew you wouldn’t understand. You men are all alike.” She picked up her towel and clutched it to her chest like a child’s lovey. “I’m going to take a shower while you cool down.”
But just as she turned to walk back into the house, he stopped her cold.
“I saw your audition tape.”
Bram watched Georgie’s expression change from confusion to puzzled understanding. He wanted to hold her, shake her, make her tell him the truth.
Her fingers grew slack on the towel. “Are you talking about the tape Chaz recorded for me?”
“It was great,” he said slowly. “You were great.”
She stared at him with her big green eyes.
“You nailed it, just like you promised,” he said. “People underestimate me as an actor. It never occurred to me that I was doing the same to you. We’ve all done it.”
“I know.”
Her straightforward response unnerved him. He hadn’t known, and when he’d seen the tape, he’d felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach.
Last night he’d sat in his darkened bedroom and watched it. As he hit the play button, the blank wall in Georgie’s office had come into focus, and he heard Chaz’s voice off camera. “I’ve got things to do. I don’t have time for this crap.”
Georgie stepping into the frame. Her hair was severely parted, and she wore a minimum of makeup: light foundation, no mascara, the barest hint of eyebrow pencil, and a shockingly deep scarlet mouth that couldn’t have been more wrong for Helene. The camera caught her from the waist up: an austere black suit jacket, a white shell, and a set of intricately twisted black beads.
“I mean it,” Chaz said. “I need to start dinner.”
Georgie pierced Chaz’s bluster with Helene’s icy imperiousness instead of her normal friendly puppy-dog manner. “You’ll do as I say.”
Chaz muttered something the mike didn’t catch and stayed where she was. Georgie’s breasts rose ever so slightly under the suit jacket, and then a smile—a fucking ice-pick smile—curled over the bottom of her face and made that scarlet mouth seem absolutely right.
You think you can embarrass me, Danny? I don’t embarrass. Embarrassment is for losers. And a loser is what you are, not me. You’re a zero. A nothing. We all knew it, even when you were a kid.
Her voice was low, deathly quiet, and completely composed. Unlike the other actresses they’d auditioned, she didn’t emote. No teeth gnawing or scenery rattling. Everything underplayed.
You don’t have a friend left in this town, but you still think you’ve gotten the best of me…
The words poured out of her, cold fury prowling behind her bloodred smile, perfectly capturing Helene’s selfishness, her guile, her intelligence, and her utter conviction that she deserved whatever she could grab. He sat spellbound until finally, with that smile frozen like black ice on her lips, she came to the end.
Remember how you used to make fun of me when we were in school? How hard you laughed? Well, who’s laughing now, funny man? Who’s laughing now?
The camera stayed on her, but she didn’t move. She simply waited, every cell of her body discharging quiet rage, intractable pride, and dogged determination. The camera wobbled, and he heard Chaz’s voice. “Holy shit, Georgie, that was—”
The picture went dark.
He looked at Georgie now, standing across from him on the whitewashed patio, her hair caught up in a sweaty, unkempt knot, her face scrubbed free of makeup, a beach towel dangling at her side, and for a moment he thought he saw Helene’s calculating eyes looking back at him—resolute, cynical, astute. He’d fix that. “I woke Hank up this morning and made him look at the tape before he even had coffee.”
“Did you now?”
“He was blown away. Just like me. No other actress we’ve seen has delivered what you did—the complexity, that dark humor.”
“I’m a comedian. It’s what I do.”
“Your performance was chilling.”
“Thank you.”
Her reserve was starting to unnerve him. He expected her to crow and say she’d told him so. When she didn’t, he tried again. “You blasted Scooter Brown into oblivion.”
“That was my intention.”
She still didn’t seem to have registered his message, so he spelled it out. “The part’s yours.”
Instead of throwing herself in his arms, she turned away. “I need to take a shower. Make yourself comfortable while I get dressed.”
Chapter 25
She locked herself in the bathroom and let the water wash over her. She’d been vindicated, and it didn’t mean anything. She’d known exactly how good she was. Ironic
She pulled on the same white shorts and navy baby-doll she’d worn that morning and ran a comb through her wet hair. It was time to face him with as much of the truth as she could bear to reveal, but she couldn’t do it by herself. She needed help from her most faithful companion.
The cool, compact living area had whitewashed walls, a tile floor, and brown wicker basket chairs with cool blue cushions. Every morning, she opened the sliding glass wall so the patio became an extension of the interior, allowing an occasional gecko to get inside, but she didn’t mind. She’d read that some of the species were parthenogenic, meaning the females could reproduce without a male. If only she could do that.
Bram had located the iced tea pitcher in the refrigerator, and he sat with his feet propped on the coffee table, a heavy-bottomed green tumbler balanced on his thigh. He heard her padding across the cool terra-cotta tiles, but he didn’t look at her. “You don’t seem as happy about your casting as I thought you’d be.”
“Apparently I only had something to prove to myself,” Georgie’s faithful companion Scooter chirped. “Who’d have expected that?”
“This is the career break you’ve been waiting for.”
“Yes, but…” When she hesitated, he swung around to look at her. She held up her hand. “I have something to tell you. You’re not going to be happy—I’m not happy. You’ll call me every name you can think of, and I won’t argue with you.”
He rose from the couch and approached her as carefully as if she were an abandoned piece of airport luggage. “You’re not staying at Trev’s. I mean it, Georgie. I’ve honored every word of this stupid marriage agreement, and you can damn well do the same.”
“You haven’t honored it out of nobility. You have your own selfish reasons.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’ve stuck with my end of the bargain, and you need to stick with yours, or you’re not the woman I thought you were.”
“Fine in principle, but…” Time to blurt it out like the bubblehead she wasn’t. “Cards on the table, Skipper.” She straightened a magazine on the end table. “I can feel myself starting to fall for you again.”
“The hell you can.”
He hadn’t even blinked. She plunged on. “Ridiculous, isn’t it. Humiliating. Embarrassing. Fortunately, it hasn’t gone very far, but you know me—determined to shoot myself in the foot whenever I get the chance. Not this time, though. This time, I’m nipping this sucker right in the bud.”
“You are not falling in love with me.”
“I can hardly believe it myself. Thank God, I’m only on the fringe.” She jabbed her finger toward him. “It’s your body. Your face. That hair. You’re a total hunk, and, sorry to say, I’m as susceptible as the next woman.”
“I get it. This is all about sex. You’re fundamentally an old-fashioned girl who needs to believe she’s in love to enjoy sex.”
“God, I think you’re right.”
He blinked and, a few seconds too late, realized she’d cornered him. “What I mean is…”
“You’re definitely right,” she said emphatically. “Thank you. No more sex.”
“That’s not what I meant!”
“The alternative is for me to move back into your house and fall completely in love with you. I’m sure we can both imagine how that would play out. Embarrassing scenes with me crying and begging. You feeling like crap. Knowing me, I’d secretly stop taking my birth control pills. Are you getting the picture?”
“I can’t believe this.” He shoved his hand through his hair. “You’re not that stupid. This isn’t love. It’s sex. You know me way too well to really love me.”
“You’d think so.”
“You, of all people, know what a selfish, self-centered womanizing jerk I am.”
“I hate myself. Really.”
“Georgie, don’t do this.”
“What can I say? Of all the crazy jams I’ve gotten us into, this is the worst.” When he didn’t respond, she licked her lips. “Awkward, isn’t it.”
“It’s not awkward at all. It’s you being you. You’re too damned emotional. Use your head. We both know that you deserve better than me.”
“Finally, we agree on something.”
She’d hoped to ease the tension, but his scowl grew more pronounced. “That stupid conversation about falling in love…You had me convinced you were worried about my feelings,” he said, “but you were just feeling me out.”
“Please don’t bring that up. Surely you realize what it’s costing me to swallow my pride like this and admit that I’m slipping back into that old trap.”
“It’s temporary. You were sex starved, and I’m a damn good lover.”
“What if it’s more than that?”
“It’s not. Remember that I’ve been on my semibest behavior. Now I can see what a mistake that was. Pack your suitcase and forget about it. I guarantee it won’t happen again.”
“Sorry. I can’t do it.”
“Sure you can. You’re making way too big a deal out of this.”
“I wish. How do you think admitting something so degrading makes me feel? I’m only hanging on to my self-respect by a thread.”
“That’s because you’re behaving like an idiot.”
“And I’m determined to put a stop to it.”
“We finally agree.” He jammed his fingertips in his pocket. “Okay, I’ll compromise. You can move into the guesthouse for a while. Until you get your brain back.”
“Too awkward with Chaz and Aaron around. Moving to Malibu is a lot better.”
“Chaz already knows about Vegas, and Aaron would do anything for you. The guesthouse is the perfect place for you to deal with your craziness. As for our working relationship…When you’re on the set, you’ll be your normal professional self, and I’ll revert to being an arrogant pain in the ass. It won’t take you long to come to your senses.”
This would be the hardest part of all, and just when she needed her help the most, Scooter disappeared to spread her perkiness somewhere else. Georgie couldn’t look at him, so she made her way outside to the stone patio wall. “Bram…I’m not taking the job. I’m not going to play Helene.”
“What? Of course you are.”
She stared down the steep hillside at the red tile rooftops below. “No, I’m really not.”
She heard the angry thud of his footsteps coming up behind her. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say. This is the chance you’ve been waiting for. All your talk about reinventing your career…Was it bullshit?”
“Not at the time, but—”
“Damn it, I’m calling your father!” He loomed at her side. “You’re a pro. You don’t throw away the opportunity of a lifetime over something this stupid.”
“You do when the opportunity of a lifetime could possibly screw you up for years.”
“You’re not serious.”
“I can’t risk working with you every day, not the way I’m feeling right now.”
He dug in then. He paced the patio, delivering one argument after another. As he moved in and out of the shade, she saw him as he was, a creature of light and shadow, revealing only as much as he wanted. When he paused for breath, she shook her head. “I hear what you’re saying, but I’m not changing my mind.”
He finally understood she meant it. She watched him retreat into himself, like a sea creature disappearing into a chambered shell. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Cold. Withdrawn. “At least Jade will be happy.”
“Jade?”
“She’s wanted that part ever since the reading at the house. Haven’t you figured that out yet? We were ready to make her an offer when I saw your tape.”
“You can’t give Jade that part!”
“It’s going to stir up a hornets’ nest all right,” he said without a flicker of emotion. “But that means publicity for the picture, and I’m not going to turn down free press.??
A roar echoed through her head. She couldn’t move, could barely speak. “I think you’d better go now.”
“Good idea.” He pulled the sunglasses from his shirt pocket with cold, businesslike detachment. “It’s Tuesday. You have until the end of the week to change your mind or Jade gets the part. Think about that when you’re lying in bed tonight.” He slipped the sunglasses back on. “And while you’re at it, think about whether you really want to fall in love with a guy who’s getting ready to feed you to the wolves.”
Two days after Bram got back from Mexico, he returned home from the studio to find Rory Keene standing barefoot in his kitchen, squeezing pink icing blobs onto waxed paper under the supervision of a scowling Chaz. He’d barely slept since he’d returned. He had a sore throat, a nagging headache, and a perpetual upset stomach. All he wanted to do was bury himself in work.
“They’re supposed to be roses,” Chaz complained. “Did you pay attention to anything I told you?”
He winced as Rory slapped down the icing tube. “If you’d go a little slower when you demonstrate, I might be able to do it right.”
When would Chaz figure out she was supposed to suck up to important people? He made himself care. “You’ll have to excuse my housekeeper. She was raised by wolves.” He dragged himself closer to study the pink blobs. “Looks delicious.”
Rory and Chaz both practically sneered at him. “That’s not the point. They’re ornamental,” Rory said, as if he should have known. “I’ve always wanted to learn cake decorating, and Chaz is teaching me the basics.”
“A special-ed class,” Chaz muttered.
“I’m an executive,” Rory retorted, “not a pastry chef.”
“That’s for sure.”
“Beat it, Chaz.” Being with Rory always put him on edge, and he didn’t trust himself to deal with both of them now.
“We’re right in the middle of—”
“Go!” He nudged her out the door.
Rory picked up the icing tube and pressed the tip to the waxed paper. They hadn’t spoken since their initial meeting in her lavish suite of offices on the Vortex lot, but the icy blonde in the gray silk suit sitting at a burled wooden desk beneath an enormous Richard Diebenkorn abstract painting didn’t bear much resemblance to this woman in blue jeans with bare feet, a ponytail, and pink smudges on her fingers. He rubbed his back and headed for the refrigerator. “Sorry about Chaz. You basically have to ignore her.”