Bungalow 2 (20 page)

There was the usual chaos on the set when she got there, and people seemed in good spirits after the four-day break over Thanksgiving. Max looked happy to see her, and even Harry wagged his tail when he saw her. It felt a little bit like coming home, just as it had when she walked into the bungalow the night before. She felt slightly guilty for what she was feeling. It wasn't nearly as bad as she remembered when she was in Ross with Peter and her children. She felt pulled now between two vastly disparate worlds. The good news was that she could have both. The confusing part was that it made her feel like two people, and she was momentarily unsure which one she was. The writer or the wife and mother. She was both. The wife and mother were what mattered most to her. But this wasn't bad either. She felt like a traitor, as she sat down in a chair next to Max and patted Harry. They both seemed like old friends now.

“So how was domestic bliss over Thanksgiving?” Max asked her, and she smiled.

“It was great. How was yours?”

“Probably not as blissful as yours, but not bad. Harry and I had turkey sandwiches and watched old movies on TV.” His kids were in the East, and he didn't want to fly cross country for a few days, so he had stayed in L.A., but he was going to see them for Christmas.

“I nearly didn't come back,” she admitted to him. “It was so nice being home with them.”

“But you did, so at least we know you're not crazy. Douglas would have sued your ass from here to forever,” Max said quietly.

“That's what Peter said.”

“Smart man. Good lawyer. You'll see, the picture will be over before you know it. And then you'll want to do it again.”

“That's what Douglas says. I don't think so. I like being home with Peter and the kids.”

“Then maybe you won't do it again,” Max said philosophically. “That might be true in your case. You're saner than the rest of us, and you have something worth going home to. For a lot of people, this is all there is. And it screws up the rest of your life, so there's nothing to go home to. We're all trapped on a desert island and can't get off. You were smart to live the life you have till now. You're a tourist, Tanya. I don't think the movie business will ever be your life.”

“I hope not. It's too crazy for me.”

“That it is.” He smiled, and then started giving orders to get people moving. They started shooting again half an hour later, once the lighting was set and the actors were ready.

They didn't finish till midnight, and Tanya called Peter from the set, so it didn't get too late for him. She had to walk away to call him, and spoke in a whisper. He said he'd had a good day and the girls were fine, and she told him what they'd been doing. It had been kind of a fun day. And then she had to get off and go back, Jean was having trouble with her lines again. She always did. Tanya had rewritten them a hundred times, and she still couldn't get them right. It was painstaking work.

It was one o'clock when she got back to the hotel, and two before she unwound and could get to sleep. The days were crushingly long. And she saw Douglas on the set the next day. He asked her how Thanksgiving had been, and she said it had been fine. He had flown to Aspen for three days to see friends. He had a very nice life.

He invited her to a party on Thursday night, as they had a short shooting schedule, and she hesitated. She didn't really want to go out. She wasn't in the mood. She was happy in her bungalow at night after work. Going to some fancy party with Douglas seemed like a lot of trouble, but he insisted.

“It'll do you good, Tanya. You can't work all the time. There is life after work.”

“Not in my life.” She smiled.

“Then there should be. You'll enjoy it. It's a screening of a new movie. It'll be a very casual evening, with some fun people. You'll be home by eleven.” In the end, she agreed to go.

And he was right. It was fun. She met some of the biggest stars in Hollywood, two famous directors, and a rival producer who was one of Douglas's closest friends. It was a star-studded evening, and the film was great. The food was good, the people were pretty, and Douglas was great company. He introduced her to everyone, and saw to it that she had fun. And when he brought her back, to thank him she invited him in for a drink. He had champagne, while she had tea and thanked him for the evening.

“You need to do more of that, Tanya. You need to meet people here.”

“Why? I'm doing a job, and then I'm going home. I don't need to make connections down here.”

“You're still so sure you're going home?” He looked cynical about it again.

“Yes, I am.”

“Very few people do. I could be wrong. You may be one of them. I don't know why, but I have the feeling you won't want to in the end. I think you know it, too. That's why you fight it so hard. Maybe you're afraid you won't want to go home.”

“No,” she said firmly. “I want to go home.” She didn't tell him that she nearly hadn't come back after Thanksgiving.

“Is your marriage really that good?” he asked, a little more determined and daring, after the champagne.

“I think it is.”

“Then you're a lucky woman, and your husband more fortunate still. I don't know any marriages like that. Most collapse like soufflés. Particularly with the pressures of long distance, and all the temptations that Hollywood provides.”

“Maybe that's why I want to go home. I love my husband, and our marriage. I don't want to screw it up for all this.”

“Good lord,” he said, with the look that made her think of Rasputin, or had in the beginning. She knew him better now, although he still had a wicked streak and loved to play devil's advocate. But he wasn't as dangerous as she first thought. He just looked it. “A virtuous woman. It says in the Bible that a virtuous woman is worth more than rubies. And surely a lot more rare. I've never had a virtuous woman,” he said, pouring himself another glass of champagne.

“I'm sure you'd find it very dull,” she teased him, and he laughed.

“I'm afraid you're right. Virtue is not my strong suit, Tanya. I don't think I'd be up to the challenge.”

“You might surprise yourself, with the right one.”

“I might,” he conceded, and then looked at her intently and set down his glass. “You are a virtuous woman, Tanya. I actually admire that about you, much as I hate to admit it. Your husband really is a lucky man. I hope he knows it.”

“He does.” She smiled at him. It had been a nice compliment coming from him. He knew the difference. Virtuous women weren't his thing. He was a player, and always had been. But he respected her now that he had come to know her. And he enjoyed her company. He had had a very pleasant evening, and so had she. She felt no pressure from him anymore. Ever since the day they had spent at his pool, and eating Chinese takeout afterward, she had felt as though they were friends.

He got up a few minutes later, and she thanked him for taking her out.

“Anytime, my dear. It pains me to admit it, but I think you're a good influence on me. You remind me of what's important in life. Kindness, integrity, friendship, all those things that I usually find so boring. You never bore me, Tanya. On the contrary. I rise to the occasion, and have a much better time with you than a lot of other people I know.” She was both flattered and touched.

“Thank you, Douglas.”

“Goodnight, Tanya.” He kissed her on both cheeks and left.

She went to call Peter. Douglas had been true to his word. It was eleven-thirty, and she was surprised when Peter's phone went to voice mail. She called him on the phone at the house instead of his cell phone, and Molly said he was next door with Alice. He was fixing a leak in her basement. She said it was flooding, and Alice needed help. Tanya didn't want to bother him there, and told Molly to have him call when he got in. Tanya lay down on her bed then to wait for his call, and fell asleep. She woke up with the lights on in the morning, and called him. The girls had just left for school, and she was due on the set in twenty minutes.

“Did you fix the leak?” she teased him. “You're a good neighbor to have.”

“Yes, I am. She has about a foot of water in her basement. It's a hell of a mess. A pipe broke. I couldn't do much about it. We drank mojitos instead.”

“What's a mojito?” Tanya sounded surprised. Peter was drinking more than he used to. She had noticed it in L.A. when he came down with the girls.

“I don't know. Some crazy Cuban drink. With mint. They taste good.”

“Did you two get drunk?” She sounded worried, and he laughed.

“Of course not. It was just more fun than wading around her basement, up to my knees in water. She wanted to try them out on me.” Tanya had the same question in her mind that she'd had over Thanksgiving, but she didn't ask him again. She had said she wouldn't. And she didn't want to get paranoid. She had been out with Douglas the night before, and nothing had happened between them. There was no reason anything would have between Peter and Alice either. They were just making the best of a tough situation. It was hard being alone as a married person. And as Douglas said, you couldn't stay home every night. There were worse things than drinking mojitos with Alice, and she knew Peter wouldn't do any of them. She did wonder if Alice had a crush on him though. Peter was such an innocent, and such a straight shooter, he was liable not to notice if that were the case. Alice was barking up the wrong tree.

“I've got to get to the set. I just wanted to give you a kiss before you left. Have a nice day.”

“You too. Talk to you later.”

Tanya hurried to shower and dress and get to the set, and when she got there, they had just put out a small fire started by the lights. The fire department had come and Harry was barking frantically. It was more chaotic than usual, and nearly noon by the time they got the set lit right and started rolling. As a result they worked till nearly three
A.M.
, and she couldn't get off the set to call Peter and the kids. It was one of those endless days that happen on movie sets. She fell into bed when she got home, and had to be up four hours later. It turned out to be a crazy week, and she couldn't get home that weekend or the next one. But the week after, their Christmas break started. By the time she got home, she hadn't seen Peter since Thanksgiving. It had been nearly three weeks. He was thrilled to see her when she walked in.

“I feel like I'm home from the wars,” she said breathlessly as he picked her up and spun her around. She looked over his shoulder and saw Alice. She had walked in behind him and was looking at Tanya. “Hi, Alice,” Tanya said, smiling at her.

“Welcome home,” Alice said, and left a minute later.

“Is she okay?” Tanya asked, looking concerned.

“She's fine. Why?” Peter looked distracted, as he helped himself to a glass of water. He had just come from next door and looked happy to see her, as happy as Tanya was to see him.

“She looked upset.”

“Did she? I didn't notice,” he said vaguely, and then their eyes met. It was a point in time like two planets colliding, and exploding in midair. Tanya looked into his eyes and saw everything. This time she didn't need to ask the question. The answer had been in Alice's eyes, not his.

“Oh my God.” Tanya felt as though the room were spinning around her. She looked at him, and she didn't want to know, but she did. “Oh my God … you're sleeping with her …” This time it was a statement, not a question. She didn't know how or when it had happened, but she knew it had. And still was. Tanya looked into his eyes again. “Are you in love with her?” He was a fool, but not a liar. He couldn't lie to her again. He set down his glass in the sink, turned to look at her, and said the only thing he could. It was the same thing he had said to Alice minutes before Tanya walked in.

“I don't know,” he said, as his face went pale.

“Oh my God …” Tanya said again, as he walked out of the room.

Chapter 11

T
he days over Christmas vacation were a nightmare for Peter and Tanya. At first he didn't want to talk about it with her, but there was no other choice. He owed her at least that much. Tanya was afraid to leave the house, she didn't want to run into Alice. Alice stayed clear of both of them, and made no appearances at the Harris house. Neither Peter nor Tanya wanted their children to know.

“What does this mean?” Tanya asked Peter finally, sitting in the kitchen, when all the children were out. They had gone to a Christmas party, and so far she and Peter were making an enormous effort to hide what was going on. She had been home for three days by then. Tanya felt as though her world had come to an end. With good reason. He had cheated on her with her best friend. It happened to others, but she had never really believed it could happen to them, despite her question to Peter about it over Thanksgiving. She had totally trusted him. Peter just wasn't that kind of man, or so she thought. But apparently, he was. He had hardly spoken to her since she'd been home. In three weeks, everything had changed. Tanya was looking at him across the table, her eyes filled with despair. His own misery was equally apparent. He felt as though he had murdered her. She had lost six pounds in three days, which was a lot on her tiny frame. And her eyes looked ravaged, they were two deep green holes with dark circles under them. He looked just as bad. No one had seen Alice since the day Tanya had gotten home, and their chance meeting in the kitchen, when suddenly it all came clear.

“I don't know what it means,” he told Tanya honestly, hanging his head. He felt overwhelmed. “It just happened. I never even thought about it. I'd never been attracted to her. I think we just got used to being together while you were away. She's been a big help with the kids.”

“And with you apparently,” Tanya said grimly. “Did she put the make on you, or was this your idea?” She told herself she didn't want to know the details, and yet part of her did.

“It just happened, Tan. We went over for pizza. The girls came back here to do homework. I don't know …I was lonely …I was tired … we opened a bottle of wine, and the next thing I knew we were in bed.” He looked sick, and so did she.

“And when was that exactly? While you were telling me how much you love me, and I was calling you every time I could get off the set? How long has this been going on?” It was a horrifying thought, whenever it had been. She wondered just how long she'd been a fool, and for how many weeks or months he'd been lying to her. She had suspected it over Thanksgiving, and told herself she was paranoid. So had he. Was he lying then? She wanted to know that at least. Just how big a liar was he?