Star Attraction (19 page)

Zaira glanced at her watch and saw
she still had plenty of time before her first class at nine, so she got started
on the synopsis of her new book, which oddly enough started with a meeting in a
lobby.

Then she wrote out some lecture
notes for her units on Shakespeare, and soon she had finished a scheme of work
for the rest of the term, which she would type up later when she went
home.
 

The battle stations were
clear.
  
Now all she had to do
was finish the screenplay before Saturday, when she would confront Brad with
the truth once
Hamlet
 
was over.

After her lectures finished at
twelve, Zaira rushed uptown to the more expensive boutiques in an attempt to
find a suitable dress for herself.
 
Her suits were well-cut, but even so she saw several of the sales ladies
shake their heads in despair at finding something glamorous for an absent
minded professor.
 

Finally she found the perfect
dress hanging in the window of a very exclusive gown shop.
 
She felt completely intimidated as she
eyed the other customers, who were all swathed from head to toe in fur.
 

“That fox was probably
electrocuted, you know,” Zaira muttered under her breath. The elderly harridan
eyed her with contempt.

“Can I help you, madam?” the woman
behind the counter inquired, almost as if she thought it would be a waste of
time.

“Yes, please, the black velvet
gown in the window in an eight, quickly,” Zaira said arrogantly. She had the
satisfaction of seeing the dismissive woman scurry to fetch the dress.

It fitted beautifully.
 
It had long tight lace sleeves, which
began at the sweetheart neckline of the dress.
 
The bodice was tight-fitting, and pushed her breasts up to
an enticing curve, while at the same time hugging in her narrow waist.
 
The rest of the gown swept down to the
floor in a long cascade of black velvet, which whispered seductively as she
swept up and down the floor in front of the mirror.

“It certainly suits, madam,” the
woman replied in awe, for the dress did indeed seem almost made for her.

“If madam would like the name of a
good hairdresser?” she suggested politely. Though Zaira was sorely tempted, she
shook her head.
 
She could have a
new dress, but couldn’t do anything with her hair, or else Brad might get
suspicious.
 
He had never really
seen Zaira Darcy with her hair down or glasses off, and wouldn’t now until
Saturday night.

“No, thank you, the dress is
fine.
 
I’ll take it.”

Once she had changed, the woman
took the dress to be wrapped. While she waited, Zaira spotted some low black
suede pumps and an elegant evening bag with a pearl clasp which she decided
would be perfect as well.
 
The
woman beamed at her
 
when she paid
for it all in cash, and showed her out the door like royalty, much to the
annoyance of the old woman in the fox fur.

Zaira was feeling jubilant, and
went back to the apartment to continue her work on the screenplay.
 
As she came in the door, she heard the
phone ring, and knew it would be Brad.

She heard his voice on the other
end of the line, but he didn’t sound his usual cheerful self.

“Hi, it’s me, I’ve rung Matt Wolf,
and he said for us to meet him at One Fifth at eight, if that’s all right.”

“Fine, Brad.
 
Do you want to come here first, or
shall I meet you there?”

“Well, I was going to come home,
but I’m at rehearsals, and Zoe hasn’t turned up.
 
She hasn’t rung or anything, has she?”

Zaira smiled to herself, and said,
“No, no word from her.”

“Damn, I need to see her right
away, but I’m tied up here.”
 

She heard him breath heavily down
the phone, and knew his stress level was rising rapidly.
 
“I’ll just do as much as I can with the
others and see you at eight.”

“Any message for Zoe if she
rings?” Zaira asked wickedly.
 
“Should I get her to ring you at the theatre?”

Brad hesitated for a moment, then
said, “No, it’s nothing that can be taken care of over the phone.
 
Just tell her I need to see her
straight away to sort some things out, and that she can come to the theatre or
the restaurant.”

Brad rang off, and Zaira’s
curiosity was overwhelming.
 
What
was so urgent?
 
Something about the
project?
 
Or maybe his father had
persuaded him to go back to LA?

Zaira was furious at the thought
of all her hard work going down the drain. She returned to the study with a
sense of burning determination.
 
She was going to finish the screenplay today if it killed her.
 
She wanted to make Brad realize that this
project meant everything to her, just as it had once done to him before Cormac
had started to interfere.

Zaira turned on her computer, and
soon she was ruthlessly slashing out parts, adding others, and working as
though her life depending on it in a frenzied burst of activity.
 
She did not pause to reflect or debate,
but worked on the script continuously with a cold rationalism which even
surprised herself.

Zaira paused only to make a huge
pot of coffee before resuming her efforts. As she sipped a cup, she reflected
for a fleeting moment that maybe Cormac had been right after all. Her price was
high.
 
It was nothing less than
happiness with Brad. She loved him beyond reason, and was ruthlessly determined
that he would not go back to LA.
 
Or, if he did, it would be with her by his side.

As Zaira got up to check the
printer several hours later, she wondered briefly what her life would be like
if she did go to Hollywood to live with Brad.
 
Would she be able to fit in?
 
They came from very different worlds.
 
But why should he be ashamed of her? She
was intelligent, talented, well-educated. While it was true that she did not
have money now, she had the ability to make money if she wished through her
writing.
 

People might find out about her
past with Jonathan, but that had not been her fault.
 
He had been the criminal, not her.
 
Others might gossip that she only wanted Brad for his money,
but then she could prove them wrong there by continuing to work hard in her
career.
 
She could lecture at any
one of a number of universities in California, and continue to churn out
bestsellers.
 
No one had to know
she was poor, or if they did, she could simply point out that it was her own
integrity which had made her so.

Zaira knew it would be glamorous
out in LA, but then Brad seemed a genuine person with fairly simple
tastes.
 
He did not seem to enjoy
parties, if his behavior at the university function was anything to go by. He
had settled down to life at the university and in the simple apartment
quickly.
 
He worked quietly with
her for hours on end, and was always thoughtful and kind.
 
Surely he couldn’t be that different in
Hollywood.
 
Surely all the nonsense
printed in the gossip columns was just that, nonsense to sell their papers.

Zaira worked on at a furious pace,
and as she neared completion of the screenplay, her confidence grew.
 
She knew in her heart of hearts that
the screenplay was good, the best thing she had ever done in her life, and she
wanted Brad to be proud of her.
 
As
she typed “The End” with a flourish on the last page, and flicked the buttons
for it to print, she looked at her watch and realized with dismay that it was
already ten to eight.

“Damn,” she muttered, and left the
machine running while she dashed into the bedroom and pulled her dresser open. She
found a pair of silky black stockings, and a lacy black bra and matching
slip.
 
She pulled the dress off the
hanger where she had placed as soon as she had got in from the shop, and donned
it quickly.
 

While she zipped it, Zaira slipped
on her new shoes. Then she went into the bathroom to put in her clear contact
lenses and her fake spectacles. She wanted to be able to watch Brad closely
tonight for any signs of double dealing on his part.
 
She quickly redid her hair into a neat but rather fluffy
swirl on the top of her head, and raced back out to fetch her bag.
 
As a quick afterthought, she looped her
usual pearl earrings into her lobes, and then ran down the steps of the
apartment building, hoping for any sign of a cab.

There wasn’t one in sight, so Zaira
scooped up her long dress with one hand and ran as fast as she could across the
park, exciting much comment as she raced past.
 
She hoped she would have enough time to check her hair in
the ladies’ room before going in, but as she neared the restaurant at a
slightly more sedate pace, she could see Brad standing outside looking around
for her anxiously.

“There you are!” Brad said with a
huge smile, which suddenly turned to a frown as he studied her closely.

“What’s the matter?
 
It’s the best dress I have,” Zaira
said, stung by his seeming displeasure.

“No, it’s not the dress,” he said
shortly, and then said, “It’s um, well, just that I was a bit worried about
your being so late,” in a rather flat voice, as he moved to put his arm around
her.

Zaira felt a tug at her hair, and
Brad say in a hard voice, “Oh dear, look what I’ve done.”

Zaira’s hair tumbled down around
her shoulders, and he felt Brad flick it into a mass of wave which cascaded
down her back.

“I’m so sorry, Zaira, it was
terribly clumsy of me.
 
I’ll just
take out the pins and you can wear it down.
 
Come on now, Matt Wolf is waiting for us.”

Before she could protest that she
wanted to go to the ladies’ to re-do her hair, he had whisked her into the
restaurant and seated her next to Matt and across from himself.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Wolf,” she
laughed shakily. “But I was working on the screenplay and completely lost track
of the time,” she added in her crispest English accent, and held out her hand
in a formal way.

“Quite all right, Miss Darcy.
You're to be commended for your enormous dedication to the project,” he said
with a warm smile, his eye twinkling with mirth.

Her stomach gave a lurch, and she
prayed Matt wouldn’t give her away inadvertently.

Brad moved to pat her on the
shoulder and say, “It’s amazing how hard she works,” but again, he seemed very
awkward this evening, for his fingers hooked onto her spectacles again, and
they dropped onto her lap.

“Gosh, I don’t know what’s come
over me this evening,” Brad said, looking astonished, though his emerald eyes
were as hard as the stones they resembled.
 

“It’s all this rushing
around.
 
But then you’re eyes are
probably tired, Zaira, after all that work today, so just leave them off,” he
urged. He took them out of her nerveless fingers and put them in his
pocket.
 

Amid her feeble protests that she
needed them, he shook his head.

“Just relax and enjoy
yourself.
  
I get the feeling
I’m seeing a whole new you tonight." Brad smiled, his teeth glinting
wolfishly.

Zaira began to panic at the
thought he might have finally recognized her.

But he turned to the waiter and
placed their order, and seemed perfectly charming and at ease.
 

Zaira began to relax again.
 
Surely if Brad suspected, he wouldn’t
sit there chatting so happily as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

But soon the conversation took a
dangerous turn, and Zaira was once again on her guard.

“So Matt, how long have you know
Zoe?” Brad asked conversationally.

Matt answered, “Since even before
we went to university here together.”

“That’s interesting, so she went
here with you, and Zaira?”

Matt cleared his throat, and Zaira
didn’t know here to look.

“And Zoe’s interest in
acting?”
 
Brad continued.
 
“Did she always do that?”

“Er, no, it’s a recent hobby, I
think,” Matt managed to get out.

“Have you ever done any acting,
Zaira?
 
I’m sure you’d be quite
good at it if you tried,” Brad said, and smiled down at her again with a flash
of white teeth which seemed almost sinister.

“No, I've never really acted very
much, some at university,” she muttered, and tried to concentrate on the food
in front of her.
 
She had suddenly
lost her appetite, and gulped the wine to ease the painful lump in her throat.