Lovers & Liars (3 page)

“You
should read this one.”

Erica
glanced down to see a famous monologue by Blanche
DuBois
in
A Streetcar Named Desire.
Her
breath caught in her throat and tears stung the back of her eyes for a moment.
Blanche is so vulnerable. Does he see that
when he looks at me?
Her gaze connected with his sympathetic brown ones.
She nodded. “Good choice,” she muttered, reading over the words.

When
her turn came, the words became real for Erica. The breathtaking sadness of the
character’s situation penetrated her heart. All her years of being alone,
struggling to succeed or just keep her head above water, came rushing back. The
pain, the anger, the resentment toward her father made her brave, even jaunty,
haughty, and superior. It was perfect, the best reading she’d ever done in
theater class, on a summer stock stage, anywhere. There was a round of applause
when she finished.

The
emotion of the performance drove her into the ladies room to splash cold water
on her face.
I have to calm down. I’m not
Blanche. I have options. I’m going to get a break.
When she returned, Sam
gave her an admiring stare and patted her hand. “Not bad, for a beginner.”

I was good, but was I good enough
to beat Sam? Probably not.

At
the end of tryouts, the coach asked the performers to step outside while he
conferred with his class. Sam leaned against the wall and pulled her next to
him. “You were good, Erica.”

“Not
nearly as good as you were. You’re a professional, aren’t you?”

“If
you mean a paid actor, yeah. I’ve done some TV, a few commercials, and a little
summer stock. You?”

“Summer
stock, that’s all.”

“Maybe
this will be your lucky break.”

Before
they could continue their conversation, one of the acting students appeared and
called everyone in. Sam took Erica’s hand in between his and sat down.
Whitmarsh
gave a short speech about how great everyone was.
Erica knew he was lying. Then, they awarded the full scholarship to Sam. Erica clapped
hard, hiding her disappointment behind a smile.

The
coach raised his hands again, and the room quieted down “This year, I’ve
decided to do something different. While Sam Rawlings was clearly the most
polished actor in the group, there was one other outstanding, though not as
professional, performance that grabbed me. I’m going to award a second
scholarship to Miss Erica Stone, for the most heartfelt performance of Blanche
DuBois
I’ve ever seen.”

Erica
couldn’t believe her ears. Tears clouded her eyes as she covered her mouth with
her hands. Sam grinned at her and applauded along with the rest.

Whit
dismissed the contestants and motioned for Sam and Erica to join the students. “Your
first class will begin tomorrow. We meet twice a week from eight to eleven.
Don’t be late. Introduce yourselves to everyone.”

One
female student set out sweet refreshments while another poured coffee. Erica
was starving. She bit into a sugared donut. “Too many of those will ruin your
figure,” Sam warned.

“Don’t
you worry about my figure.”

“I’d
like to get to know it better…much better.”

“You
win the award for the worst pick-up lines ever,” Erica said between bites.

Sam
laughed. “Can’t blame me for trying.”

“Hire
a writer.”

Sam
and Erica agreed to meet at Buns and Burgers before the next class then went
their separate ways. Erica couldn’t stop smiling as she drove her rust bucket home.
Amy was in her pajamas, waiting up for her friend. She smiled when Erica told
her the news.

“See!
I told you working for Gunther would pay off. Your first day and already you’ve
made a connection.”

Erica
hugged her friend. “You’re right. I’m the luckiest girl ever. This is going to
be a great experience.”

“Won’t
Gunther just
die
when he finds out?”

“You’re
not going to tell him, are you?” Erica put her hand on her roommate’s arm.

“No
way. Someday, you’ll leave him for a juicy part, and he’ll be so pissed, he
won’t know what to do.”

“No
one’s irreplaceable, Amy.” Erica sat back on the sofa and put her feet up.

“Gunther
hates to lose, in anything. It’ll kill him. And I’ll be in the wings,
laughing.”

Erica
pulled a wad of paper out of her bag and began to thumb through to the first
page.

“What
are you doing?”

“Reading
a script. He asked me to.”

“He
asked me, too, but I never had time. I’ll be damned if I was going to bring his
work home. Geez. It was enough I had to deal with him during the day. Besides,
I have Garth. Rather spend my time in bed with him than doing a favor for the
dragon.”

“I
don’t have a Garth. Besides, this is my field. I like doing it.”

“You’re
a sucker. Gunther got much more than he deserves in you,” Amy sniffed.

Just
then, a male voice called out from the bedroom. “Amy! You coming?”

“Garth?”
Erica asked.

“Certainly
not Gunther Quill! I love it when Garth misses me.”

“Goodnight,”
Erica said, not paying much attention, as she was already immersed in the story
on her lap.

Chapter
Two

Thursday
morning, Gunther rolled into the office at eight thirty, surprised to find Erica
at her desk.
Amy didn’t come in until ten.
He checked out her cleavage. She pulled her glasses down on her nose and
looked over the rims at him.

“The
contracts are on your desk. There are three treatments there I want you to read.
I’ve sent polite emails to the writers of seven more scripts that are
unacceptable. Here are three phone messages that came in last night after you
left. Oh, I’ve answered some emails for you. They’re awaiting your approval.
The three actresses are coming in tomorrow. I’ve scheduled them an hour and a
half apart, as you requested. And lunch today with Max Webster—I changed the
restaurant.”

“Why?
The Satin Club is my place. I’m known there. I’ll get the best service and
impress the hell out of him.”

“From
what I’ve read about him…and you…” She paused to stare hard at him. “Max isn’t
thrilled with this lunch. In fact, I picked that up on the phone from his
assistant. But he’s a businessman, so he’s meeting you. Besides, I promised
you’d behave.”

“I
always behave.”

She
shot a stern look at him then smiled.

“Where
are we going?”

“The
reservation is for twelve at The Blue Window. Max’s favorite place.”

“The
Blue Window? That dump? Nothing but fish. Cheap joint.”

“It’s
Max’s favorite place. He requested it.”

“So?
This is my lunch!”

“You
might do better with him if you’re willing to eat on his turf, Gunther.”

“Yeah?
And you know this how? By the many years of wisdom you’ve acquired by…how the
hell old are you anyway? Twenty-five?” His eyes narrowed.

“I’m
thirty. I have more life experience than you know.”

“Yeah?
Were you a hooker in your other life?”
Uh-oh.
Over the line.

Her
face reddened, and her eyes flashed. She threw down her pad and pen and stalked
right up to him with her hand raised. He grabbed her wrist as she brought it
down toward his face.

“I’m
sorry,” he said, holding her arm in the air while avoiding her angry stare.

As
quickly as it came, the red seemed to drain from her complexion. “Don’t ever
say that to me again.”

“I
won’t. And no physical violence.” The soft scent of gardenia enticed his nose.

“I’m
sorry. I lost my temper.”

“You’re
probably right. Ole Max might be more open if he’s on his own turf. If I have
to eat fish, I’ll eat fish.” He opened his fingers.

“Fine
then.” She straightened her skirt and returned to her desk.

He
took the opportunity to study her from the back. His gazed was glued to her
swaying hips.
Nice ass. Great legs.
When
she was a safe distance away, he began again, “By the way, the new clothes don’t
cut it.”

“What?”
He saw indignation rise in her again.

He
ran his hand through his hair. “They’re too cheap.”

“They’re
all I can afford.” She sat down.

“You’re
pretty smart…”

“I
turned that five hundred into two suits instead of just one.”

“Hey,
that’s great if you’re working for some ordinary guy in some ordinary company.
But not if you’re working for Gunther Quill.” Her eyes filled as he stared at
her. Then, her lower lip trembled.
Oh no,
shit. Waterworks! No tears!

Panic
seized Gunther, making him run to her. He put his hands on her upper arms. “Hey,
don’t cry. It wasn’t meant as a criticism. I know I don’t pay you enough for a
fancy wardrobe. It’s okay. No tears, now. Okay?” His words came out in a rush.

She
took a deep breath. “What do you want me to do?”

“I’ll
take care of it. I’ll call Maggie. You’re worth the investment.”

“Maggie?”
She wiped her eye with her fingers.

“Magdalena
Oliver. She used to be a wardrobe mistress, but started her own business designing
women’s clothes. Now, she’s the best. Her stuff is sensational.”

“Weird
to talk to a straight man about women’s clothes,” she said.

He
grinned. “Producers have to know about everything. No more Niagara Falls, okay?”

She
nodded.

“Good.
I’ve
gotta
go. You’re way ahead of me,” he said,
going into his office. He closed the door and leaned against it, sweating.
Pulling out a fine cotton handkerchief, he mopped his forehead.
Damn, that was close. Almost full-out
hysterics. Can’t lose this one. She’s amazing. Light years ahead of Amy.
He
made a mental note to try and soften his words, but knew that would be
difficult. Gentle language and soft tones didn’t come naturally to Gunther.

Gunther
had grown up in a strict household. His father had ruled with an iron hand. His
mother was the softer one, nurturing and cheerful. He had never understood how
she ended up with his dad. Armand Quill was a successful real estate developer.
They had lived in a mini-mansion and had the best of everything. His father was
ruthless. He squashed people who got in his way, including Gunther and his
younger brother, Gordon.

When
he was very young, Gunther had been arrogant, proud of his father’s success. He
had even bullied his little brother when his mother wasn’t looking. But when he
got to high school, he began to see that his father’s success came at the
expense of others. His father had no problem foreclosing on a struggling family
or outmaneuvering partners so he ended up with a bigger piece of the pie. Gunther
began to despise his dad and took his little brother under his wing.

Armand
Quill made it clear that he wouldn’t have wimpy sons. He expected perfection
from both boys. Any report cards with less than all
As
were treated with disdain. Armand ridiculed the boys if they cried or showed
any weakness.

Gunther
worked hard to please his dad until he graduated college. By then, he realized
nothing would ever satisfy his father, so he gave up. He turned his back on Armand
and sought his own fortune with his girlfriend, Laurel, in New York City. Still,
the young man had developed a taste for winning, a strong desire to be the
first and the best.

Not
long after Gunther had landed a plum job as an assistant to a major Broadway
producer, his father and brother were killed in a car accident. Gunther and his
mother had been devastated. It was then that Gunther resolved to become the
most successful producer in the business, to impress a demanding father that
was no more. He worked night and day, saving as much as possible to move to
California, where the big bucks were.

Laurel
had been the one bright spot in his life beside his mother, Clare Quill. She
was soft and gentle like Clare, as well as being incredibly beautiful and a
talented actress. Gunther had considered himself the luckiest man alive to have
her by his side.

Then
one day at a barbecue on Bear Mountain, Laurel used too much lighter fluid on
the grill. Her face was burned beyond repair when the flames rose up the second
she lit the match. Nothing they tried could restore her beauty. Although
Gunther loved her just the same, Laurel’s career came to a halt. Six months
later, she killed herself.

Gunther
had been devastated. She was everything to him, and he blamed himself for the
accident. He was never the same. The ruthless part of his personality he had inherited
from his father remained, but the soft, gentle part of Gunther, like his mother,
withered away, slipped into the shadows of his heart, and was buried along with
Laurel.

* * * *

Gunther
maneuvered his red
Ferrari
into the
parking lot at The Blue Window. He handed the keys to the attendant with a
warning to be careful. Entering the restaurant, he ran his finger around the
rim of his crisp, white shirt collar to loosen it. He gave his name to the maître
d’ and was immediately shown to Max’s table.

Max
stood up to shake his hand. Gunther saw doubt and wariness in the eyes of the
older man.
The rabbit and the fox, Max?
No worries. I’m not here to eat you, buddy.

As
soon as he was seated, he ordered
Chivas
Regal
on
the rocks and sat back. “Congratulations on your new show, Max. When does it
open?”

Max
sipped his Cosmopolitan and nodded. “Thanks.
Sway
is a musical. It opens in a couple of weeks.”

“Took
the title from
Bublé’s
song?”

“Right.
We’ve got the rights to the song, and Michael’s gonna sing it on opening
night.”

“Sweet!”

Gunter’s
scotch arrived. He raised it. “Here’s to the success of
Sway.”

The men toasted.

“What’s
up, Gunther? You’ve never been one to revel in someone else’s success. Why all
the interest in my Broadway show?”

“To
the point. No bullshit. I like that, Max. You’re right. I’ve never wasted a ton
of time patting someone else on the back. Been too busy. I like your style,
your shows. And I’m in love with musicals.”

“Word
has it you’re still in love with
Dorrie
Rodgers!” Max
chuckled.

Gunther
started to rise out of his chair. “If this is going to be a bash Gunther fest,
then I’m outta here.”

Max
raised his hand. “Don’t go. I’m sorry. You’re right, Gunther. This is business.
Sorry.”

Gunther
sat back down.
Score one for me. I don’t
give a shit if you want to tease me about
Dorrie
,
Max. That’s small potatoes. Now you owe me, and you’ll listen. Good.

“I
love musicals, too. My wife and I have seen them all. New York seems to favor
them.”

“
Hustle and Dance
is doing well at the
box office.”

“I’ll
never know how you wangled the movie rights. We were all set to give it to Rob
Marshall.”

“I
made a better offer.” Gunther took a swig of his scotch.

“You’re
good at that, aren’t you?”

“In
business. But maybe not in love,” Gunther chuckled. “You’ve got a great eye for
musicals, Max. I hear
Hustle and Dance
was
your brainchild.”

Max
blushed.
“Me and a couple of other folks.”
He sipped
his drink.

“I
heard it was mostly you.” Gunther’s gaze locked onto Max’s face.

“Well,
maybe.”

“If
Sway
is a hit, I’d like to do the
movie.”

“Isn’t
this a little early?”

“
Gotta
get the jump on the wolves out there. I have a lot of
faith in your judgment.”

“But
theatergoers are fickle. I’ve had my share of flops, too.”

“So,
if this one dies quickly, I’m not out anything.” Gunther shrugged.

“I
wouldn’t give you the rights without something up front.”

“I’d
like to see the show as soon as possible.”

“I
can arrange that.”

“If
it flies and we do the movie…maybe you’d think about a closer collaboration?”

Max
narrowed his eyes. “What did you have in mind?”

“You
develop the Broadway show, and I produce the musical as a movie.”

“Could
work.”

“We
form a company—East West Productions.” Gunther tried to keep the excitement out
of his voice.
He’s interested. Please,
God, let him say yes.

“Go
into business with you?” Max lifted his eyebrows.

“It’s
the cheapest, easiest way to make this work. Then we don’t have to negotiate a
new deal for each show. We get the Broadway and movie rights at the same time.
If the play flops, we can sell the movie rights or simply not make the movie.
If we make the movie first, you get the rights to put it on Broadway.”

Max
sat quietly. At the lull in the conversation, the waiter brought two menus. Gunther
picked his up, suppressing a groan.
Fish,
twenty different ways.
The décor of the restaurant included fishing nets,
boats, and seagulls. The sea motif made his taste buds yearn for a juicy steak.

His
gaze ambled down the printed page.
Sole
Meuniere
, Grilled salmon, Coquilles St.
Jacques.
No meat.
Then he
saw it.
Broiled lobster.
His taste buds
jumped to life. His favorite food next to steak was lobster. The price was
fifty dollars, the most expensive thing listed.

“What
do you recommend, Max?”

“I
love the grilled salmon. At my age, it’s the best thing for me, and they do it
well here. Right to your taste.”

“Youth
is mental. Oh, there it is. My favorite. Broiled lobster.”

Max
licked his lips. “I love lobster, but haven’t had it in years. All that
butter.”