All My Tomorrows (13 page)

The rest of the photographs revealed a completely
different story. Definitely professional, most likely through a telephoto lens,
they painted an intimate portrait of that morning when they parted. The first
must have been when he first walked up behind her. The only picture of them on
the bench together showed her staring at him with round, tired eyes – eyes that
looked like they had cried as much as they truly had. The other four in the
series had been shot right before he left. His hand cupping her cheek. His lips
on her forehead with her eyes closed. Him gazing at her as he told her to take
care of herself, though only she knew what he said. Then a final shot of him
walking away.

She knew why he wanted them. She hated to admit
it, since they were shot by a paparazzo, but they were…stunning. Even the poor
quality of the newsprint did not diminish their breathtaking beauty – artistic
yet natural, with the morning light through the misty haze casting an ethereal
quality to the scene. No trace of Hollywood glamour marred a single image. She
wore an old sweater and no make-up, and she had done nothing but comb her
fingers through her hair, which hung in loose, damp curls off her face. He wore
jeans, an open Oxford shirt over a t-shirt, and pure raw emotion on his face as
they said their parting words.

And no one who saw these pictures would ever
believe she was not in love with him.

The accompanying article, though short, told the
story with uncanny accuracy. They had her name, even spelled correctly. They
had met on
All My Tomorrows,
where she is head writer. They were seen
together frequently while he filmed in New Orleans (the implication being she
had no reason to be on location there except to be with him). Then the last
night, after their song, they were heard arguing in her hotel room, and he ran
out without a shirt on. They met on the Moon Walk the next morning and mutually
agreed to part ways.
At least in this version he didn’t dump me.

She needed Eileen. She called her number and it
rolled to voicemail just as someone knocked.

“Alice, it’s me,” Mr. Peacock said through the
door.

She closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying
breath. “Come on in.”

Closing the door behind him, he walked around the
desk and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be? All things considered, I
think I look pretty good. There must have been a lot of photosho –”

“You know what I’m talking about. You have not
been completely frank, and that’s not like you. Do you care about Peter?”

She leaned over her desk – over the photographs –
and dropped her head into her hands, covering her eyes. “I don’t know. I’m so
confused. I never entertained the possibility that he actually cared for me;
and I spent so much time disliking him, I never considered that I even could
care about him.”

“Have you spoken to him?”

“Not since…these were taken.”

“Call him.”

“No. He wouldn’t want to speak to me. I outlined
for him precisely every quality of his that I despise – and they are all still
true. He will always think he is better than me or you or anyone outside the
upper echelons of the Hollywood elite. There isn’t room for both me and his
ego. I’ll be fine. I just hate having all this aired in public. I’m surprised
the tabloids haven’t hunted me down for an exclusive.”

“Well, they’ve actually tried to reach you, but
Mrs. Jellyby and I have been fielding the calls.”

“You’re kidding.”

“She was hoping you would do it, thinking it would
help ratings, but I told her in no uncertain terms the answer is no. You are
not in front of the camera. You are entitled to your privacy.”

“Too bad
The Intruder
doesn’t think so.”

“You know, we can keep the photographers off the
lot, but eventually they will find out where you live.”

“I’m sure this will die down before then. Besides,
I’ll be leaving for Napa soon, although I was thinking of cancelling because of
the way Giselle has been lately. I’m worried about her.”

“Oh, Giselle will be fine.”

“Well, keep an eye on Rich. I don’t think he’s good
for her.”

“Everyone will be fine. You need a few days away
from here, out of L.A. When you get back, no one will even remember any of this
thing with Peter.”

☼

The Edge
of Darkness

Chapter
18

Robert had a castle. If I had known that sooner, I
might have gone with him more eagerly. It was as if it had been taken out of an
encyclopedia. He spent a lot of time explaining about being in the House of
Lords and how he came to be a duke, how the castle had been passed down through
the generations. He was a Knight of the Red Garter and several other orders
passed to him from his father and his father’s father and so on. It was all
impressive, but it didn’t make me love him.

I tried to reach Tony, but he wouldn’t take my calls.
I wrote the first of what would be hundreds of letters to him. If Robert had
known I thought of Tony as something other than a brother, it would have
devastated him.

Mother told me Tony would not take her calls either.
He would only speak to Annette. He wanted nothing to do with his mother after
finding out his parentage.

“Annette won’t tell him the truth, that you aren’t
related,” Mother said. “When she found out about the two of you…I think it made
her resent you because you had gotten closer to Tony than she ever had. She is
angry and bitter and full of hate for both you and me.”

With twenty bedrooms, sleeping arrangements were not a
problem, until the second night. I knew what Robert expected from me, and I had
made him wait over a year and across an ocean. I had no reason to save myself
for Tony anymore.

The servants had been dismissed early so we could have
a romantic evening alone. After dinner, we sat on a sofa in the parlor drinking
cognac. When we set our glasses down, we moved closer together, put our arms
around each other, and started kissing. As Robert kissed and fondled my
breasts, I recalled those nights in the back of Ben’s car. Then my memory
traced to that night when Ben had come to my bedroom, and Tony had burst in on
us.

I could feel the beginnings of tears in my eyes. To block
out the past, I started kissing Robert’s neck. I took his face in my hands and
looked into his eyes and said softly, “Love me.”

He gently took my hands from his face and held them.
“Come with me.” He stood and pulled me up.

Robert led me to double doors, which he opened to
reveal an enormous bedroom – larger than Mother’s party room – and a bed to
match. The room and the furniture were amazing, and he saw me caught up in
their opulence.

“Every time a ruling body got new furniture, we got
the old.” He smiled and proceeded to the bed as I remained in the doorway.

“This was a baron’s room a few hundred years ago.” He
lay across the bed horizontally, his feet still on the floor, and looked up at
the painted ceiling and then at me. “This is the most fantastic bedroom in the
entire house, and never once have I slept here. I have never so much as sat on
this bed before.”

He sat up and extended his arm out to me. I walked
over and got up on the bed beside him, pulling my feet under me.

“They say that he was a very good baron but a very
poor gentleman.” I lay back with my arms over my head, and he reclined on his
side, head on his hand, looking down at me. “According to the legend, he
courted a beautiful contessa in hopes of winning her legacy, but she hated him with
a passion because she could see right through him.” He took my hand and rubbed
it against his cheeks and lips. “But to resume friendly relations between their
two families, she accepted his invitations to dinner.” He started kissing my
hand and fingers between words. “On one such occasion he drugged her wine and
then led her to this bed and made love to her so she would be forced to marry
him, which she did; but she refused to lie with him ever again, so he never had
a legitimate heir. His plan backfired, for he fell in love with another woman
but couldn’t have her because of his wife. He had sacrificed the chance of love
for wealth before he realized the great price he was paying.”

We were silent a moment, both reflecting on the tale.
“How sad,” I said.

Robert reached behind him and turned off a lamp,
leaving only the light from candles burning all around the room. He had planned
this, I thought, but I was glad he had.

“And you’ve never made love before?” I shook my head.
“Then let me make love to you.”

He kissed me, his body to the side but his lips over
mine. Then he pulled me up and slowly undressed me as we continued to kiss. I
reclined vertically, naked before him, and he gently moved his fingers from the
hollow at the base of my neck to my navel and then back again, and he traced
that same path with tender kisses. He unbuttoned and removed his shirt, and he
finished undressing as I got between the sheets. I closed my eyes until I felt
his warm body beside me.

He squeezed me in his arms then loosened his grip
enough to kiss me ardently. I held onto him as we kissed and arched my neck as
he nibbled at it, savoring the pleasure. He stopped a moment, and I realized he
was sheathing himself. When he turned back to me, slowly his hand traced my
frame then grasped behind my knee as he moved on top of me. Without a word, he
plunged inside of me.

With the pressure came pain, seeping into the walls of
my inner self. The pressure continued to build as he moved until I reached the
point where I thought I would burst. With this came the pang of memories, and I
began to cry from the deep hurt of both.

Finally he stopped, but I still clung to him. “It’s
all right now, darling, it’s over now.”

No, it’s not, I screamed in my head. It would never
end. My love for Tony would always rule me. I knew he should have been my
first. He should have been my only.

I regained my composure and looked into Robert’s
frantic face. “I’m all right now,” I lied, echoing his words.

Relief replaced the worry on his countenance. “Thank
God. I’ve never been with a virgin before. I promise, next time it will be
better for you.”

We snuggled together, and I rested my head on his
chest as he ran his hand down my hair. He told me again and again how much he
loved me, how happy he was that he finally had me with him. I began stroking
his chest and running my fingers over each contour of his body. I kissed his
chest and neck and whispered, “Make love to me again.” He looked at me
confused. “You said it would be better next time.”

He smiled, then he chuckled and rolled on top of me. I
could never be with my true love, but this was the closest I had ever felt to
anyone.

☼

Alice knocked on Giselle’s dressing room door.
“It’s Alice. Can I come in?” After a lengthy pause, Giselle granted her
permission to enter, and Alice closed the door behind her. Giselle sat at a
dressing table facing the mirror, and Alice tried to catch her eye in the
reflection.

“I feel like you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Giselle said with a
world-weariness Alice never would have expected from her.

“We haven’t done anything together since the
Olympics. Why don’t you have dinner with Eileen and me tonight?”

“I already have plans with Rich.”

“Of course. Rich.”

Giselle finally lifted her face and met Alice’s
eyes in the mirror. “Yes, Rich. He and I are together now, and you need to get
used to it.”

“I just don’t think he’s good for you. You’ve been
late for tapings several times now, you’re having trouble with your lines,
you’ve lost weight, and those dark circles under your eyes say you haven’t been
getting much sleep.”

“Okay, yes, we’ve been going out to clubs a lot,
but I have been ‘little miss responsible good girl’ all my life. I’m just
blowing off some steam. I’ll try not to be late anymore.”

“So what are you doing to blow off steam?”

“What do you mean? Going out dancing.”

“So Rich hasn’t…you haven’t been doing any drugs?”

Giselle’s pale face blossomed with rosy cheeks,
and she averted her eyes. “Yes, a little coke – but just a little. And X a
couple of times.”

“Did Rich give it to you?”

Giselle’s head jerked around, and she glared at
Alice. “No, and why would you think such a thing?”

“Because you weren’t using it before you and he
got together.”

“That’s not altogether true. You know at the
Christmas party, we –”

“You know what I mean. Regularly – like a habit.”

“It’s not a habit. Rich didn’t give me anything.
He doesn’t even use coke. A friend of his from Malibu gets it.”

Malibu?
“Well, will you lay off the party
favors?”

Giselle sniffed and nodded.

“There’s something else I needed to talk to you
about. Jack called me a few days ago.”

Giselle started but then turned back to the
mirror. “Why would he be calling you?”

“Because he can’t reach you. He says he’s been
calling and texting you for weeks.”

“Why should I take his calls when he wouldn’t take
mine?”

“I know, but he wants to apologize and explain
what happened. I think you should at least listen to him.”

“Why? Nothing he could say would make a
difference. I’m with Rich now.”

“Well, you need to be careful with Rich. You don’t
know everything about him.”