Please (13 page)

When he had come out of the bathroom, naked, skin still warm and damp from his shower, Elizabeth told him that she had to spend a few hours on set. His reaction had been disturbingly blasé.

“Great. That’ll give us some time to work on the whole delayed gratification thing,” he had said with a smirk, rummaging through his bag for some clean clothes.

When she emerged from the shower, he was gone. He had left a note with directions to somewhere called Good Stuff. The note said: Meet me at one for lunch. Wear a skirt. Nothing underneath.

“Hi,” a voice said, interrupting her thoughts. Elizabeth looked up. It was Susan Solstein, the red-headed actress who played the second female lead. Elizabeth had seen her on set before, but Susan hadn’t bothered to introduce herself, and Elizabeth felt too star-struck to approach. Susan wasn’t an up-and-coming actor like Naomi or Sebastian. She was the real deal. She had a career spanning decades and dozens of films to her credit, never mind the Golden Globe and Oscar nominations. In real life, she looked older, the fine lines usually disguised by lighting and camera angles clearly visible. But she still radiated a strong sensual confidence. At close to fifty, she was still hot.

“
You’re Elizabeth Holmes,” she said, extending her hand.

Elizabeth stood up and shook it.
“Yes. You read my chair?” She tilted the chair so Susan could see the back.

Susan laughed.
“I read your book.” A beat. This was where people usually said they loved it or related to one of the characters, but Susan just said, “I’m Susan.”

“
Yes, I know,” Elizabeth said, hearing and hating the fawning tone that crept into her voice. “Of course, I know. I loved you in
White Heat
and that one about the two women who love the same man, but one of them is dying ...”

“
Bird in the Hand
,” Susan supplied, smiling coolly. “Thanks. That was one of my favorite parts to play. Such a rich mine of emotion.” Another pause.

“
Um, how do you like the role of Cassandra?” Elizabeth asked. Cassandra was her favorite character in
Habibi Baby
, the one she was proudest of having created.

“
Oh, she’s great,” Susan effused. “I mean, she’s just your standard tough nut on the outside, marshmallow on the inside. Not much in the way of complexity. Doesn’t require a lot of me as an actress, which is just
perfect
after the hell I went through playing Verushka in Roman’s latest.” Susan leaned in conspiratorially. “Russian mafia kingpin’s mother whose own mother was a Romanoff and whose father was a Jew killed in the pogroms, made a name for herself as a high-class commie whore and somewhere along the way managed to raise the most dangerous and powerful man in Russia. We’re talking
layers
. It is so
nice
to play someone simple like Cassandra after that.” She wrinkled her nose when she said ‘nice.’

Elizabeth was stung. Her smile faltered, but she pinned it back on, with effort.

“I would have introduced myself earlier,” Susan continued, “but I haven’t seen you around much since the first couple of days.” Susan looked at her steadily, a knowing smile on her lips. “Been doing a bit of sightseeing?”

“
Mm-hm,” Elizabeth answered, feeling herself flush.

“
Well, well, well,” a male voice said behind her. “If it isn’t Elizabeth Holmes, author and script consultant for
Habibi Baby
.” It was Cullen.

“
Ah, Cullen. The great auteur.” Elizabeth hoped that hadn’t come out as sarcastically as it sounded in her head. “You haven’t been missing me, have you?” She tried to inject a kittenish tone into her voice.

Cullen frowned.
“Oh, we’ve managed to get by along here without you, haven’t we, Suze?”

A wicked smile spread across Susan
’s face. “Somehow.”

Elizabeth felt a panic attack coming on. She had never had one before, but panic seemed like the appropriate word to use for
the sudden quickening of her pulse and squirmy feeling in her chest preventing her from forming lucid thoughts.

“
I guess I wasn’t clear on how much time I should be spending on set ...” she began, but Cullen interrupted her, putting an over-familiar arm around her waist.

He winked, his frown splitting into a wide grin.
“Hey, I told you to get out and see the city, didn’t I? But stick around for a couple of hours today. I’m not feeling the way Matt’s written the next scene with Cassandra and Eugene. We’ll try a take with it as is, but I might ask for your help with a rewrite if it doesn’t play.”

Elizabeth glanced at her watch. It was
10:30.

Susan watched her, a knowing look in her amber eyes. She put a hand on Cullen
’s forearm. “Now Cullen, that’s awfully rude of you. What if Elizabeth has plans?”

Cullen looked at Elizabeth, his eyebrows rising above his turquoise glasses.

“Um, well, I was supposed to meet someone at one, but ...”

Cullen spread his hands expansively.
“Come on. Suze and Bob,” he gestured to the veteran character actor who was playing Eugene, “are pros. We should be able to nail this in no time, right?”

Susan murmured and smiled noncommittally. Elizabeth
’s heart beat faster.

“
Oh shit,” Cullen said, his attention drawn to something on the other side of the set. “Vince!” he yelled, striding toward the offense. “Not the fucking blue gels again! We discussed this.”

Elizabeth stood with her arms crossed under her breasts, uncomfortably aware of Susan
’s presence beside her.

“
Meeting a friend?” Susan asked, her tone all sly insinuation.

Elizabeth didn
’t look at the actress when she answered. “Uh-huh.” What was this woman’s problem?

“
New York is a fabulous place for ... friendships.” Elizabeth glanced over at Susan, who was looking straight ahead, idly stirring her cup of chai, the suggestion of a smile on her lips. “Of course,” she said, casting Elizabeth a sidelong glance, “they never last.”

Elizabeth made an ambiguous sound, but a shiver ran through her. She knows about Sebastian, Elizabeth thought. And what was more, she cared. Elizabeth had to wonder why.

“Mmm!” Susan said with exaggerated enthusiasm. “The chai is divine, Charles.”

“
Thanks Ms. Solstein,” Charles answered, his entire being virtually radiating
she noticed me!

Susan started walking away, languorously, her hips swaying.
“It’s just what I need to keep me going,” she said, winking at Elizabeth over her shoulder. “I have the feeling this scene is going to take ages to get right.”

*

It was two o’clock by the time Elizabeth got on the A train heading uptown. She leaned her head back against the window, taking deep breaths and trying to quiet the panic that hadn’t subsided since her encounter with Susan.

She had rewritten the two-minute scene between Cassandra and Eugene at least five times, and they had done countless takes before Susan and Cullen managed to agree on one that worked. Susan kept flubbing her lines and asking for makeup touch-ups and arguing with Cullen about how the scene should be played, acting every inch the diva.

While they were shooting, Elizabeth had dumped her bag out, looking for her phone before she remembered that she didn’t have Sebastian’s number anyhow. They had barely left each other’s sides since that first night. It hadn’t been an issue.

But as Elizabeth took the exit steps at Union Square two at a time and walked down 14
th
street, her eyes frantically rolling over the signs on the shops and restaurants, her panic mounted.

She found the restaurant at last, a fifties style dinner with burnt orange and turquoise banquets and
Formica tables. Sebastian was sitting at a table in the back, tapping at his phone with his thumbs. Elizabeth thought she could see the anger and frustration pulsing in the vein in his neck, but when she called his name, he looked up at her with expressionless eyes.

“
I’m so sorry,” she said, sliding into the banquet across from him, an apologetic smile on her face. Sebastian didn’t say anything, signaling to a waitress behind her for the check. “Cullen wanted my help with a scene and that prima donna Susan was doing everything in her power to stall things. She knew I had an appointment at one and she wanted me to be late. I swear that woman has a hate-on for me the size of the Empire State Building, but I have no idea why.”

Sebastian blinked when she said Susan
’s name, a strange look crystallizing in his dark eyes as Elizabeth babbled.

The waitress brought the check and Sebastian slapped some money on the table, stood up and grabbed Elizabeth
’s upper arm. “Come on,” he said. If he hadn’t been angry before, he definitely was now. He held her hand but walked just that little bit too fast for Elizabeth so that she had to scurry to keep up with him.

“
Sebastian, do you know Susan?” Elizabeth asked. Her heart was beating faster than her trotting to keep up with Sebastian warranted.

“
Of course.” His voice was terse.

“
I mean, do you ‘know her’ know her? I guess what I mean is, are her initials part of your tattoo?”

He didn
’t respond, as if he hadn’t heard her, but she could tell by the stiffening of his shoulders and the doubling of his pace that he had.

Elizabeth continued, panting slightly,
“Because she seemed to know about me. About us. At least, that’s how it seemed. She made some comments that felt like insinuations.”

Sebastian remained mute. They were walking beside a tall cast-iron fence,
beyond which was a beautiful compound of weathered limestone buildings, at the center of which was a church, its pale spire piercing the gray sky.

Sebastian opened a gate to the left of the main entrance and walked through, staying close to the church. Elizabeth followed, hesitating for a moment to listen to the singing she heard coming from inside, the voices high and angelic. Sebastian grabbed her hand again, and leading her around to a door at the side of the building, opened it, pulling her into the darkened cove of the entrance.

The voices were much clearer here, their pure tones weaving a tapestry of sound that was at once melancholy and joyous. Sebastian stood in front of her now, looking into her eyes. Whatever anger had been there before was gone. He put his fingers lightly on her lips, and then her eyelids, closing them. He whispered, “Forget Cullen and Susan. Just listen. And feel.”

Her back was against the wall. She could feel the icy touch of the stone through the wool of the single skirt she had brought with her. Sebastian kissed her. His lips and breath were hot in the fading warmth of a cool March afternoon. His kiss was light, delicate, teasing. He lifted up the hem of her skirt and put his hands on her bare thighs. Her eyes snapped open.

“Sebastian,” she said, her voice reluctant, uncertain.

“
Shhh,” he whispered into her ear, running his hands around to the backs of her thighs then up to the crease of her buttocks. “And close your eyes or I’ll have to blindfold you.” He took a step back from her and unwound the thin cashmere scarf from his neck.

She closed her eyes, but she felt him tie it around her head anyway.

“But Sebastian ...” Elizabeth began, only to feel his open mouth pressing softly but insistently against hers. His tongue filled her mouth, then retreated. He pulled her tongue into his mouth, holding it gently with his teeth. His hands explored the backs of her thighs and cheeks, his touch warm and feather-light. Elizabeth forgot what she had wanted to say.

Sebastian released her tongue and kissed her mouth closed. He ran his tongue along her jaw to her ear, and Elizabeth shivered, remembering the first time he had done that, in the stairwell at the hotel. He sucked gently on her ear before whispering hoarsely,
“Lift up your skirt and don’t make a sound.”

When Elizabeth hesitated, he pulled the wool
en skirt up for her. She held onto the coarse fabric as he pulled away from her, briefly. Then she felt his hands on her buttocks, gripping them fiercely, and his tongue sliding into the slit between her legs. She gasped.

He found her clitoris and licked it gently at first, then harder, faster, burrowing himself into her with the ferocity of a wild animal tearing into its prey, sucking and biting, his hands clenched on her buttocks, separating them. She came without warning, letting her skirt drop, grabbing Sebastian
’s head, pushing her pelvis against him. She bit her lip to stop from crying out, but a moan escaped her mouth despite her best intentions.

Sebastian let go of her and, disentangling himself from her skirt, rose and tore the blindfold from her eyes. He held her face and looked into her eyes, intently. His chin and cheeks were still glossy with her juices, which he wiped on the front of his t-shirt, lifting it up to expose his six pack and the tip of his firm penis poking above his low-slung jeans.