Bridge to Haven (38 page)

“Everyone is an actor, Lena, and you’re a natural.”

Didn’t he ever listen? “I get sick every time we go on set.”

“Stage fright comes with the territory. A lot of actors get it. Sometimes it gives your performance a certain edge.”

There was no point in arguing. He wasn’t going to let her say no. She stopped sipping. Just thinking about making another movie made her tense up. All those people standing behind the lights watching every move she made. It was especially disconcerting when she had to wear a gauzy nightgown.

Franklin straddled the stool beside her and talked about the script. She finished her drink and got up. He made another while she paced. He kept talking.

“Can we go out for a walk, Franklin? I feel cooped up in here.”

He set another rum and Coke on the counter, told her to sit down and drink it. He said it would help relax her, make her think straight.

She picked it up, drained it, and set it down. “Are you happy now?” She stretched out on the sofa. Her muscles did relax. She felt warm and fuzzy. He talked about business, movie reviews, competitors, auditions coming up. She hated auditions.

He sat on the edge of the sofa and brushed the hair back from her forehead. “You’re not even listening, are you?”

“I hate acting, Franklin.”

“I know.” His hand moved down over her body. “But you’re very good at it.”

She didn’t like the way he said it. “I’m good at screaming.” The reviewers praised that part of her performance, though not as much as how she looked in a flimsy nightgown. “I’m never going to be Susan Hayward or Katharine Hepburn.” Why not say it aloud? “Or Pamela Hudson.”

He took his hands away. “Didn’t you read the papers? Her last movie was a bust. Her career is over.”

“I don’t think she cares, Franklin.”

“Oh, she cares. Take my word for it. I know her. You forget I slept with her for a year before she took off like a witch on a broom. She married to further her career.”

Abra felt languid. “She’s expecting another baby.”

“Yeah. She didn’t realize her middle-aged Romeo wanted a family.”

Pamela’s husband wasn’t much older than Franklin, but Abra thought better than to mention that fact.

“Babies are the kiss of death for a career in this business.” His laugh had malice in it. “I can imagine what she was thinking when her husband suggested you as the star of his next movie.”

She stared at him. “Is that true?” She couldn’t help but feel flattered.

“Ah.” He grinned. “I see a little spark for acting in your eyes.” He shifted away and stood. “I said no, of course. You’re on your way up, not down.”

“I thought he was one of the best directors in the business.”

“A director is only as good as his last movie. His mistake was putting Pam in the lead role. She always thought her looks would carry her.”

“You had faith in her once.”

“As long as she listened and learned, she had potential. Now she has nothing.”

“She has a husband. She has children. She has a life.”

“A life? You call dirty diapers and chasing kids a life? Your life is exciting. You’re going to be bigger than she ever dreamed she could be.” He’d made her another drink.

Abra sat up and took it. Liquid courage. “All this hard work you’re doing isn’t really about Lena Scott, is it, Franklin? It’s about getting back at Pamela Hudson.”

His eyes turned glacial as he considered her, but he warmed quickly. “Maybe it is, a little. Wouldn’t you like to get back at Dylan, make him regret throwing you away?” He laughed and swallowed his Scotch. “We’re a pair, aren’t we?”

“Vanity of vanities; all is vanity.”
Good old King Solomon knew what he was talking about.

He changed the subject. The new acting coach had told him she was a quick study. Franklin knew she was good, but he intended to make her better. She knew he had lofty goals. He would wheel and deal until Lena Scott was number one in the box office, and then he’d shoot even higher. Why not an Academy Award? What about a play on Broadway, and a Tony? He’d never be satisfied.

“I’m twenty years old, and I don’t even know how to drive a car.”

He gave her a surprised look. “Where would you go?”

“Anywhere. Nowhere. Somewhere away from this apartment!”
And you,
she wanted to add. She wanted to get away from his constant demands, his insatiable ambitions, and his physical hunger.

He came over to her. “You’re all tensed up again.” He touched her body like the sculptor in the painting, admiring his work.

She got up and sat at the bar.

Franklin stood, too, and looked annoyed. “I told you it wouldn’t be easy. You said you could do the work. I spelled it all out for you. You signed the contract. I’m just keeping my part of the deal.” He came over and stood in front of her, hedging her in again.

“I know, Franklin.” She felt so tired sometimes. She was running a race she couldn’t win.

“So there it is. We’re in agreement. It takes time and dedication on both our parts. We made a pact. I’ve dedicated my life to you.”

“You have other clients, don’t you?”

“No one like you. They’re all bit players, character actors, and they’re all doing fine, I might add.” He cupped her face. “You’re special, Lena. I love you. I’m doing all this for you.” He looked so earnest, so sincere; she knew he believed everything he said.

She flinched when the telephone rang. He gave her a light kiss. “It’s the offer I’ve been waiting for.” He stood by the telephone and winked at her. He let it ring three more times before answering. “Tom! Good to hear from you.”

Abra went back to the piano. It was the one place in this black-and-white world where she felt at home. She played a few notes. Franklin snapped his fingers at her and shook his head. She wanted to pound out “Maple Leaf Rag,” but she closed the piano like a good little girl and headed for her bedroom. Franklin cupped the receiver. “Sit on the couch.”

She flopped onto the couch, stretching out full length. She closed her eyes, wishing she could close her ears, too. Then she wouldn’t have to listen to him selling her like a used car.
Lena can do this; Lena can do that; Lena can do anything you want.
If she couldn’t, Franklin would make sure she learned how.

“Can she swim?” He didn’t even look at her. “Like a fish.” He listened for a minute and then laughed. “A mermaid? Sounds intriguing. Send the script over. Can’t this week, Tom. No way. Her schedule is packed. You’d better send the script by messenger if you want her to read it anytime soon. Offers are flooding in.”

A slight exaggeration. There were only seven scripts on the table. A mermaid? How long would the director want her to stay underwater? She was already drowning.

“Are you kidding me?” Franklin’s laugh was genuine this time. He listened and gave a cynical chuckle. “Well, I didn’t see that coming. It sounds right up his alley. I suppose Mommy can make it happen.” He hung up, his mouth twisting. “Dylan turned in a treatment for a TV game show. He’s trying to line up sponsors.”

Franklin launched into the story line of a mermaid who rescues a fisherman who fell overboard in a storm.

Abra sighed. “So now I’m going to be a mermaid instead of a prostitute with a heart of gold?”

Franklin rummaged through the scripts and tossed one onto her stomach. “Sit up and read through it. That one will show another side of your talent.”

Abra recognized the title and dropped it on the floor. “I don’t know how to sing or tap-dance.”

“You’re learning.”

“Franklin!” She felt a bubble of panic. “You just told Tom Somebody-or-Other to send over his script by messenger!”

He picked up the script she’d dropped like a hot potato and waved it at her. “This is better for your career, and Tom’s production won’t be ready to roll for four months. You’ll have time to do both movies, providing Tom’s script is as good as he says it is.”

Abra’s heart fluttered like a trapped bird in his hands. The more she struggled, the tighter his fingers closed around her. “I’m not Debbie Reynolds.”

“She didn’t know how to dance either when they signed her for
Singin’ in the Rain
. She learned on set when Fred Astaire found her sobbing under a piano after a dance scene with Gene Kelly.”

“I’m not Esther Williams, either!”

“Stop worrying all the time! You can do it.”

“I can’t!”

He lost patience. “You can and you will. I get you the parts and you learn what you have to learn to do them. That’s your part in our
plan. Remember?” He tossed the script on the couch. “Read it! It’s a good movie, good money, and we’re not turning it down!”

Good money? She shook inside, fear and anger driving her. “I haven’t seen a dollar from all my work on that zombie movie yet.”

He turned, eyes narrowing. “Are you suggesting I’m cheating you?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You better not. Just so we’re clear. I’ve already invested a lot of my own money in you. What little you’ve made is in safekeeping. You’ll have a nice nest egg someday.”

“I wouldn’t mind enjoying a little deviled egg right now.”

He smiled slightly. “And what would you spend it on? Shoes?”

“Driving lessons!”

He laughed like she was joking. “I’ve got a few more calls to make.” He headed for his office. “Read the script! Who knows? You might find you love tap-dancing.”

It sounded like he’d already closed the deal. She felt the weight of heavy chains. She couldn’t throw the script away even if she wanted to. She’d signed her life away. Franklin owned her.

At least he loved her. Or she thought he did. At least he didn’t leave her on her own and go off with other women the way Dylan had. He wasn’t out to break her heart and ruin her life. Quite the contrary. Frustrated, she told herself to stop whining and complaining. She raked her fingers through her hair, pulling it all up and making a ponytail. She got up and rummaged through a kitchen drawer for one of the rubber bands from the morning newspaper. She sat cross-legged on the couch and opened the script.

Franklin came back into the room. “What the . . . ?” He crossed the room and reached for her. Frightened, she drew back. He hooked a finger in the rubber band and yanked it off, taking a dozen strands of hair with it. She gasped in pain as her hair tumbled around her shoulders. “What are you playing at?” He glared down at her.

She stared at him, shocked by the intensity of his anger. “I wasn’t
playing at anything.” It was the first time in a long time she’d been just plain Abra.

Students from the Thomas Jefferson High School class of 1950 packed the Haven Hotel. Seventy-eight had made it for the reunion, organized by Brady and Sally Studebaker, Henry and Bee Bee Grimm, and Joshua, all of whom had spent weeks playing detective, tracking down fellow classmates. It had only been seven years since graduation, but they thought it time to get friends together. Sally and Bee Bee wanted a formal dinner dance. Brady, Henry, and Joshua wanted a casual picnic at Riverfront Park. They compromised on a buffet and dance at the hotel, with a local DJ keeping the music rolling.

Most out-of-towners had arrived a few days ahead, some staying at the hotel, others with parents who still lived in Haven. Janet Fulsom and her husband, Dean, drove up from the Central Valley. Steve Mitchell brought his family down from Seattle. He and his wife said they hadn’t had a night out since they had the twins, and were thankful Steve’s parents had the little ones corralled for the evening. Lacey Glover had married a real estate agent from Santa Rosa and was seven months pregnant.

Joshua saw Dave Upton arrive with his wife. He hadn’t sent an RSVP, and the party was in full swing when they came through the door. Dave looked every inch the successful businessman in his dark suit, white shirt, and tie. All he lacked was a black leather briefcase. He had his arm around his wife, a slender blonde in a simple black dress. Dave looked around, as if searching for someone. When their eyes met, Joshua smiled and raised his hand in greeting. Dave leaned down to speak to his wife and guided her in the opposite direction.

Old grudges died hard, Joshua guessed. He hoped they’d have an opportunity to talk. Joshua talked with Lacey and her husband while Sally and Brady bebopped like a couple of teenagers.

Sally’s laughter made Joshua smile. Sally had gotten along better with her mother since she and Brady got together. Brady and Sally brought Laverne to church and then went back to her house for Sunday dinner. Sally said she was beginning to see how two people could fight and still love each other. Mitzi had invited Laverne to a ladies’ luncheon where Laverne found herself drafted into the quilting club. She had plenty to keep her busy, which made Sally’s life less complicated.

Joshua had taken a seat at a vacant table when he heard a deep voice close by. “I heard you and Sally were an item for a while.” Joshua glanced up and saw Dave standing with his wife. Joshua stood out of respect. Dave raised the beer in his hand. “Sorry things didn’t work out for you.” He sounded anything but sorry. His wife looked at him in surprise and then at Joshua to judge his reaction.