Celluloid Memories (24 page)

Her relationship with Mac was a surprise to her. It seemed to have evolved naturally, but in a way that had already led Savannah to the conclusion that she was falling in love with McCoy Sutton. It was happening, so what was there to talk about?

But Rae Marie's question had put the idea of marriage out there. Now, Savannah wondered, what if the love was all one-sided? That Mac liked her she had no doubt. But what kind of future did he have in mind if it was nothing more than “like”?

McCoy turned his attention directly to her. She was afraid to breathe, afraid to move or do anything that would disturb the delicate balance of the moment. He reached out his hand to her and she entwined her fingers with his. She could see the muscle working in his jaw.

“As it turns out, yes, I'm very much in love with her.”

Savannah tried to say something, but there was a curious blockage in her throat. Still she couldn't pull her gaze away from his.

“Don't lose your way like I did,” Rae Marie cautioned quietly. “There is nothing as important in life as loving and being loved. Nothing.”

 

“Oh, it's pouring out,” Savannah said disappointed, sliding closed the glass door to the lanai off the bedroom they were using. “I thought it never rained in paradise. Tomorrow's our last day here and I wanted to drive to Kee Beach. The guide book says it's mostly deserted.”

The room was a little bit chilly and she quickly got into bed, pulling the comforter up around her neck. McCoy finished brushing his teeth and turned out the light in the bathroom. When he started across the carpeted floor he had a towel wrapped and secured around his waist. He pulled it free before climbing in next to Savannah.

She turned to him, seeking the warmth of his body.

“If you read that in the guide book I can guarantee it's no longer deserted. Every visitor to the island is going to find it because they think they'll be the only ones there. If it rains all day tomorrow I promise I'll bring you back for another visit, TBA.”

“I haven't thanked you yet for this trip. Maybe I should start a running tab with you.”

He laughed quietly. “No thanks needed, but I'm curious. What do you have in mind?” he asked.

“It wouldn't be a surprise if I told.” She kissed his chest, playing idly with his nipple, letting her fingers trail seductively downward into the valley of his navel. “Mac, I want to know what happened between us weeks ago. Around the time I met with Punch Wagoner.”

He sighed. “I was hoping you'd forgotten about that. I was behaving like a jealous kid.”

“Over who? Who?” Savannah asked, her voice puzzled. “Mac, there wasn't anyone else I…”

“I know that. This was different. I thought I was being played.”

“By me? I don't understand.” Her fingers were still teasing along his skin. When she reached a little below the navel she felt the muscle contract. She lightly went back and forth with the same results. McCoy moved his hips restlessly, and she felt the head of his penis as it grew to nudge against her hand.

“Are you going to torture the answer out of me?” he asked, his voice suddenly deeper and strained.

“Why don't you just tell me?” When he lay with his eyes closed Savannah came up on one elbow and studied his features. “Mac, did you mean what you said to Rae Marie? When she asked if you're in love with me?”

He looked at her, his expression a cross between bewilderment and annoyance. “Of course I did. I wouldn't go around saying something so important if it wasn't true. And I knew that Ms. Hilton would probably not take kindly to me lying to her or Will Shelton's daughter.”

“I agree. But it's just you and me now. I'd like to hear it firsthand.”

Mac was looking at her, as if calculating the risk of being honest. Finally, he let out a deep breath.

“When you got the deal with Punch, I felt as if I'd been there before. It spooked me. I got married when I was in law school. We moved to L.A. together when I got a job with a law firm there, before I decided to specialize and open my own practice. In those days I didn't care that much for L.A., but you go where the work is. What I didn't know was that my wife, Paula, who I always knew had a very good voice, was quietly planning and building a voice career behind my back. Maybe she was afraid I wouldn't understand. To be honest, I probably wouldn't have.”

As McCoy talked, Savannah once again snuggled next to him, once again went back to stroking his chest and stomach and listening.

“I can't decide what hurt more, that she wasn't open with me, or that she was ultimately successful. Of course, once she became successful, and I mean the whole nine yards—record deal, tour, concert opening—we were through. I couldn't compete with the kind of attention, money, opportunities that she was getting. Fast-forward, she's a big performance star in Europe. She makes three or four appearances in the U.S. each year.”

McCoy rolled his head to look steadily at Savannah. He suddenly reached out to caress her cheek, her neck and shoulder, urging her to lie against him as he hugged her gently to his side.

“When I was starting to know you, what first caught my attention was your strong sense of self. You seemed centered and not easily influenced by anything or anyone. I liked that you didn't look like every other woman in L.A. You stood out. Everything about you was different and attractive to me. You were not only not particularly interested in all things Hollywood, they didn't seem to impress you. It was surprising, to be honest, once I learned Will Shelton was your father. But I liked that you could hold your own, weren't afraid to speak your mind. You got points for making me laugh.”

“Can I interrupt to say the feelings were entirely mutual?”

“I'm relieved to hear that,” McCoy said quietly. “But I think I almost blew it when I realized you'd written a script, and I assumed you were about to go Hollywood on me. And I thought you might be trying to use whatever influence I had to get ahead. I was disappointed.”

“You were being an ass,” Savannah said just as quietly.

For a second McCoy was stunned by her response. Then he suddenly chortled and broke out into a full chest-and-belly laugh.

“I'm glad you find it funny now,” Savannah said calmly. “At the time I couldn't figure out what was going on. Did I suddenly grow a horn in the middle of my head? Did I show a few extra pounds in the wrong place? Were you just not that into me? I was hurt, Mac, because like you, by then I was also very attracted. And it was for all the same reasons. Considering you tried to kill me at our first meeting, I loved that we actually had so much in common.”

He was still laughing, but it had died down somewhat. He rolled toward her, gathering Savannah into a tight embrace, kissing her face and searching for her mouth and silencing both of them.
Enough talk, already.
But she was relieved. The facts, when revealed, were understandable and human. Much better than if he'd withdrawn suddenly because he'd decided she should get bigger boobs.

McCoy controlled the kiss, finally ending it and relaxing back into the bedding again.

“Maybe Ms. Hilton tipped my hand quicker than I would have thought to, but the message and meaning are the same, Vann. I do love you. It kind of snuck up on me. I finally realized how I felt just when I thought I'd lost you to La-La Land.”

“You really confused me, too. When I saw you at that party Kay gave for me when I got the option, I didn't know what to think.”

“I'm surprised you even remember the party.”

“I remember everything, Mac. Especially the next morning.” She sighed. “That was wonderful.”

McCoy took her hand and led it inexorably down to his groin and his full erection. He placed her hand back on the thick stem to, once again, encourage the erotic stimulation she'd been teasing him with.

“There's more where that came from,” he whispered.

Savannah followed through, playing with him to great effect while he kissed her and toyed with her nipples until her breasts seemed engorged and she was quietly panting.

She suddenly moved onto her back and McCoy rolled atop her body. He cupped her vagina, using his fingers to test her readiness, drawing a whispered sigh of longing from her. She trapped his hand between her thighs, urging him to continue his exploration, and making her moan in ecstasy.

“Now, now,” she pleaded.

McCoy obliged, sliding deep inside with one smooth stroke.

She arched her back. “Mac, wait. There…there's something…I have to say.”

He'd already begun to thrust between her legs, riding against her and drawing out the response they both wanted.

“Can't it…wait?” he growled, right on the edge.

“It's important. I love you, too,” she said against his ear.

He climaxed.

“H
i, Mr. Raskin. This is Savannah Shelton calling.”

“Ah, Savannah. How nice to hear from you. As a matter of fact I had in mind to call you myself.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but you first. What can I do for you?”

“Well, I've been thinking about doing something for my father. You know, like a memorial of some kind. When he was sick he didn't want a lot of people to know about it, and he didn't want a fuss when he died. But, now I'm feeling that something needs to be done to recognize his life and contribution.”

“I agree, and that's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. I understood Will's feelings about publicity and too much exposure. He was very careful not to let his personal life overlap with his work. That's not always an easy thing to do in a town that seems to thrive on gossip and scandal.”

“It's taken me a while to see he was all about the work.”

“In a way it was too bad,” Raskin lamented. There are lots of people here and abroad who liked and admired your father. He was a real gentleman. He was a great mentor to other young black performers. He knew that Hollywood wasn't always a fair environment, but he managed to survive.”

“That's kind of what I'd like to celebrate about him,” Savannah said. “I didn't always understand the pull that Hollywood had on him, but I respect that he had the courage to go after a dream. I know that now,” Savannah recalled her own recent adventures. “Anyway, I don't want my father's name to be forgotten.”

“I agree with you.

“I'm planning on giving his scripts and papers to his alma mater, Morehouse College. I've also been in touch with the American Film Institute and they're interested in some materials.”

“That's a great start. Now, for a memorial here's what I have in mind. I think we need a big name to MC the event. There should be testimonials and maybe even clips from Will's films shown throughout. Have you thought about establishing a scholarship fund for aspiring black talent?”

“No, I haven't, but it's a great idea.”

“Good. How about sometime in the fall? Everyone's back from summer breaks, and the new season of films and TV is just starting up again….”

 

Savannah stood at the back of the small conference room holding a plastic cup of white wine. Crowded into the space were about fifty of her coworkers who, like her, were listening with amusement and pride to their former music coordinator, Tyrone James Sparks…aka Taj…as he thanked everyone for the great send off. The oval conference table was littered with the aftermath of the surprise party, and several balloons had drifted to the ceiling and hovered over the gathering.

“Yeah, I had a real good time here. My paycheck was a little skimpy—”

Everyone laughed.

“—but I think I'm about to make up for it.”

Taj searched the room until he spotted her. Savannah shook her head slightly, not wanting him to single her out for anything, but she already knew that Taj was going to do his own thing, as he'd always done.

“I'd like to thank Savannah Shelton for the part she played in me getting this opportunity. No point in trying to hide, Baby Girl.” Taj pointed in her direction. “This woman is on the money. I did her a favor, and she turned right around and did the same for me. Because of Savannah, I was put in touch with a record-label exec who listened to my demos, and asked me to produce the CD of a new group they have under contract.”

Savannah grinned at Taj, thanking him for his acknowledgment while also signaling that thanks wasn't necessary. Everyone in the room turned as one to look at her, some breaking out in applause and whistles.

“Y'all better keep an eye on Baby Girl. She's about to break out. I'm tellin' you. Major writing talent right under your nose.”

Savannah joined the chuckles at Taj's warning, knowing that it was due to her own tenaciousness that word had not gotten out about the failure of her option.

Pretty soon people began leaving to drift back to their own departments and offices, everyone wishing Taj well as he was about to head out on his great Hollywood adventure…just as he'd always predicted he would. Savannah remained where she was, watching Taj work the room as he made his way to her, shaking hands and accepting additional congratulations.

“See, this is what you get for not letting me do the music on your last hip-hop film,” Taj said to one of the execs. “You could have had me for
life.
”

“I don't know if we could have handled that,” she said dryly, drawing even more laughs as the room finally emptied out.

Taj, grinning, stood in front of Savannah. “Was I cool or what?”

“You are
way
cool,” Savannah smiled. She kissed Taj lightly on his cheek. “And I'm so proud of you. Now don't do anything to embarrass yourself out there. You've just become a role model.”

Taj groaned. “That's what my mama told me. But I want to tell you that it ain't over for you yet. I'm tellin' you, you wrote a good script and someone is going to notice.”

“I'm now confident that something could happen—
will
happen with the story. Anyway, I have something else I'm working on. I'm thinking about doing a book about my father.”

“There you go,” Taj said approvingly. “Pretty soon I won't even be able to talk to you. You're going to be huge.”

Savannah laughed at the often-used Hollywood term for someone about to make it big. She put down the cup of wine and together they headed out of the room.

“I better get back to work. While I'm waiting to be huge I still have to earn a living. I don't suppose you're hanging around until five o'clock?”

Taj looked at her as if she was out of her mind.

“
Hell,
no. I'm outta here soon as I finish packing up my tapes and CDs. The serious celebration happens later. You coming?”

“Thanks for the invitation, but I already have plans.”

They began walking slowly down the corridor in the direction of their respective offices.

“I'll still keep in touch, Baby Girl. You're like my good-luck charm or something.”

“I'm glad it's worked for you.”

Taj suddenly turned to her, his eyes bright and triumphant. “The first thing is, don't give up. Remember your father. Will Shelton
never
let anybody see him sweat.”

 

McCoy chuckled over the note he was reading. It was handwritten in a beautiful classic script with an old-fashioned fountain pen on handmade rag paper. The entire presentation was done in the way a certain generation had been taught, a way that, in the age of e-mails and text messaging, was fast becoming a lost art.

In the note Rae Marie Hilton was thanking him for being the catalyst for her meeting Savannah and himself. She'd thoroughly enjoyed them and hoped they'd be returning to Kauai soon, this time as her guests. But also, Rae Marie wanted to thank him for showing her that the world had changed. She wasn't going to be hung in effigy for transgressions in her youth against her race, and against herself.

There was a slight knock on the door, but before McCoy could react the door opened and Cherise stepped in. There was a postscript to the letter that he'd have to read later. Resigned to the young actress's lack of protocol, he carefully replaced the letter in its envelope and slipped it inside his leather portfolio.

“You're not busy, are you?” Cherise said charmingly.

Her gaze looked troubled by the possibility, but McCoy knew that whatever he answered would not deter her for a minute.

“What can I do for you?” he asked instead, having learned her methods for getting his attention. “You have to make it quick. I have plans and I have to leave soon.”

Cherise stopped short of grimacing, merely looking bored. “Oh, what's-her-name?”

“Savannah,” McCoy said without a trace of rancor. He half stood and politely indicated the chair Cherise was to sit in.

“Savannah. That's so decades ago. She sounds like somebody's grandmother.”

“One day she will be,” McCoy murmured.

Cherise shrugged. She reached into her Prada bag, a recent acquisition made possible by her contract to costar in a pilot for TV about three African-American sisters, and removed a script. She held it in front of her chest, the title page facing him.

“I want to do this story,” Cherise announced.

McCoy's gaze went from her excited expression to the front page of the script. He stared at the title and author, not allowing his own features to register recognition.

The script was titled
Fade to Black
.

McCoy leaned forward to take the script from her hands. “Where'd you get this?”

“My agent, of course. Actually, he doesn't even know I've read it. It was on his desk and I didn't think he'd mind if I took a look at it. After all, I'm paying him to find projects for me, right?”

McCoy said nothing as he thumbed through the script that he himself had already read months earlier.

“I don't know who Vann Shelton is, do you? I thought maybe you could find out for me.”

He was not at all surprised that Cherise had not been able to connect the dots and recognize the name of the author.

“Ask your agent. You're paying him, remember?” McCoy said, not unkindly.

He'd learned that he had to be firm with Cherise and set boundaries. Even then there was no guarantee that she'd honor them.

He made a mental note to tell Jeff Peterson that they were now square. No more favors for a while. He handed the script back to Cherise, wondering how many other copies were circulating among agents. Had anyone bothered to tell Savannah?

“As a matter of fact, why aren't you talking to him about the script, if you're interested?”

“Because I want to make some changes. This is about some black woman who passes for white. We are so over that,” Cherise said with a dismissive wave of her hand and a roll of her eyes. “But the story could still work. Want to hear my ideas?”

“Not particularly,” McCoy said. “It does no good to tell me because I can't do anything about it, and I won't. You don't know who the screenwriter is, or his intentions, and you shouldn't have taken the script without your agent's permission.”

“Well, I didn't want him to show it to anyone else.”

“Did it ever occur to you that he didn't show you because the part wasn't right for you?”

“But I can make it right,” Cherise persisted.

“Cherise,” McCoy began patiently, sitting back in his chair and covertly checking the time, “I know you feel you can do anything, and maybe you can. But you
can't
do everything. No one can. Give it a rest. You have three or four projects already lined up. You've been in L.A. less than a year and your career is off the hook.

What else do you want?”

“This script,” she said, once again holding it up.

McCoy slowly shook his head, shrugging lightly. “Can't help you with this one. Sorry.”

Cherise sighed and replaced the script into her bag. “You're probably angry with me for just walking in unannounced. Let me make it up to you. Can I take you for a drink?”

McCoy didn't let his surprise reach his eyes. Cherise leaned forward just enough to let her silky Tse sheer blouse, with its deep V-neckline, swoop slightly open to reveal an enticing glimpse of swelling breast. In his recollection Cherise had yet to thank him for anything, so he was only amused by her strategy. And a little disturbed. He had never been interested in Jeff's baby sister in that way, but knew there were plenty in Hollywood who wouldn't hesitate to take her up on the offer. It might even be the subject of a future conversation. But not today.

“Like I said when you came in, I have plans. And I don't want to be late. Anything else?” He stood up.

Cherise mewed with her glossed lips and stood as well. “I guess not.”

And then, McCoy had another idea. She would never consider doing anything that would put her in a bad light. He suddenly realized that all he had to do was find a legitimate reason why Cherise shouldn't consider the part in
Fade to Black.

“Tell you what,” McCoy began, his hand lightly on her shoulder as he steered her to the door. “Leave the script with me. I'll read it over tonight and get back to you tomorrow.”

“Oh, Mac, that is so great! I know you're going to see I'm perfect for the part. With a few changes, of course.” Cherise pulled the script out again, kissed the cover sheet for good luck, and gave it to him.

McCoy gave her an indulgent smile. “We'll see.”

 

He studied Savannah closely while she read through the letter he'd received from Rae Marie Hilton. McCoy was sure that she wasn't aware of the gentle lift of her brows or the warm smile on her lips, indicating pleasure and high regard. At one point she gave him a covert silent glance, and he knew she'd gotten to the passage where Rae Marie mentioned her expectations for the future of their relationship. He gave nothing away when he met Savannah's gaze. They hadn't gotten that far, yet.