The Ranch (5 page)

“Great. What would you like me to do? Why don't I just give him the house in Malibu? Ask him how he feels about the sun, or maybe he'd rather have the house in Bel Air, but it's a little smaller.” It was impossible not to be cynical, harder still not to be angry, or to feel abused, or betrayed, by people who were willing to hurt you or use you, although they never even knew you. In some ways, the attacks on her were so obvious and so impersonal that they had the same quality as a drive-by shooting.

It was nine o'clock by then, and her secretary had arrived, a high-strung girl named Jean who had worked for the president of a record company previously, and had worked for Tanya for more than a year. She was efficient and trustworthy, but Tanya didn't like the fact that the girl always seemed to increase the feeling of urgency around her, rather than diminish it for her. And she did just exactly that that morning. Within the first hour she was there, there were three calls from New York, two from entertainment magazines, wanting interviews, and one from the show she was going to be on. The lawyer called her back two more times, and her agent called to press her into a decision about her next concert tour. She hadn't committed herself yet, and they had to know immediately because it would be impossible to include Japan otherwise, and the agent she used in Britain called wanting to know about a contract. They got word of another tabloid story coming out, and they called about a technical problem as well in her current record. She was doing a benefit the next night, had to get to the recording studio by noon, and had rehearsals that night for the benefit. And her film agent called, wanting to talk to her about another movie.

“God, what is today? A full moon, or is everyone in this town just going crazy?” Tanya brushed the long blond hair out of her eyes with one hand, while Jean handed her a cup of coffee, and reminded her that she had to give an answer about the tour before four-thirty. “I don't have to do anything, goddammit, and if they don't include Japan, then too bad. I'm not going to be pressured into making a decision before I'm ready.” She was scowling when she said it, which was uncharacteristic of her. Tanya had always had an easygoing disposition, but there was enough pressure on her to make a volcano erupt, and she was only human, and could only take so much.

“What about the interview with
View?”
Jean asked relentlessly. “They really need an answer from you this morning.”

“Why didn't they call my PR people?” Tanya asked, feeling increasingly stressed with every passing moment. “They're not supposed to be calling me directly. And why aren't you telling them that?”

“I tried, but they didn't want to hear it. You know how it is, Tanya, the minute they get your number, everyone wants to talk to you directly.”

“Yeah, and so do I.” It was Tony. He was back from playing golf, and he was standing in the doorway of her office, looking anything but happy. “Can I talk to you for a minute, Tan?”

“Sure,” she said, looking up at him, feeling suddenly nervous. She had to be at the studio in half an hour, but she didn't want to put him off. He didn't look as though he'd be willing to wait another minute. Whatever was bothering him seemed urgent.

Jean left them alone, and Tanya waited for him to sit down. He looked as though he had something major to say to her, and she wasn't sure she was ready to hear it. “Is something wrong?” she asked in an anxious whisper.

“Not really,” he sighed, and looked away from her out the window. “No more than usual. And I don't want you to get me wrong.” He turned and looked at her, but she could see in his eyes how angry he still was, how betrayed he felt, not just by her, or the story the bodyguard had told, but by the fact that their life required that kind of abuse, and there was never any way to escape the torture. As celebrities, they had no right to privacy, or even honesty, and every invented tale about her, every story made up by anyone, enjoyed the protection of the First Amendment. “I'm not angry about the thing in the paper today,” he lied to himself more than to her, but he liked to believe he was fair to her, even when he wasn't, “it's not much worse than anything else they've said about us. I have a lot of respect for you, Tan. I don't know how you take all the shit you do,” and they both knew there was plenty of it. The previous Christmas, they'd had to have bodyguards for all his kids, because there'd been a very serious death threat on all of them, particularly Tanya, and his ex-wife had a fit over it. “I think you're an amazing woman.” But she didn't like the way he looked at her when he said it. It was all in his eyes and she had seen it coming for a year. He was sick of it, and he could still walk away from it. The difference was, she couldn't. Even if she decided to retire that afternoon, it would go on for a long, long time, maybe forever, and she knew it.

“What are you saying to me?” She tried not to sound cynical, but it was hard not to. She'd been there before, in various ways, with different people. She told herself she was ready for it, but in her heart of hearts, she knew she wasn't. You never were, you always hoped that this time it would be different, that he would be strong enough, that he would really care, that it would be worth it to him to stick by her and help her. It was all she'd ever wanted, maybe even more than children, just a solid, real relationship with a man who would stick around when the shit hit the fan, because it would. She had told Tony that at the beginning. And he'd been good about it, for nearly three years now, but lately he was getting testy. Too much so. “Are you telling me I'm too good for you, that I deserve better than you have to give? One of those noble little speeches that makes me feel that I'm rising to greatness while you run out the door?” She looked him in the eye, and spoke clearly. There was no point hiding from what was coming. And she knew it was now.

“That's a lousy thing to say. I've never run out on you.” He looked hurt and she felt sorry. Maybe she was premature in her accusations.

“No, but you're thinking about it, aren't you?” Tanya asked softly.

He sat looking at her for a long, time, neither confirming nor denying what she had asked him. “I don't even know what I'm saying to you. I'm just telling you I'm getting tired. This is a hard life you live, harder than anyone ever knows until they get here.”

“I warned you of that,” she said, feeling like a climber on Everest halfway through the climb, as her companions began to fail her. “I told you what it was like. It's a tough life here, Tony. There are wonderful things about it, and I love my work, but I hate what all the other stuff does to me… and to you… and to us… and the kids… I know how hard it is. But the bitch of it is, I can't do anything to stop it, and you know that.”

“I know, I know… and I have no right to complain.” He looked at her with eyes filled with embarrassment and agony, but she knew as she looked at him that, for Tony, it was over. You could just see it. He'd had his fling with Hollywood, and for him, the romance had faded. “I know how hard it is on you, and I don't mean to make it any worse. I know how hard you work, and what a perfectionist you are… but that's part of it too. There's no time in your life for me anywhere, all it is is concerts and rehearsals and recordings. You're doing great things, Tan, and meanwhile I'm sitting here reading about us in the tabloids.”

“And believing it?” she asked him bluntly. Maybe that was it. Maybe he thought it was true. The bodyguard who was suing her had been a real son of a bitch, but he was very attractive.

“No, I'm not believing it,” he sighed, “but I'm not enjoying it either. The guys I played golf with this morning made a big deal about it. Actually, some of them thought it was pretty funny, to have a wife who gets sued for sexual harassment, most of them claim their wives never want to sleep with them.” He looked embarrassed by what he was saying, but Tanya got the deeper meaning. His friends had been harassing him, and Tony was tired of being humiliated. It was a reasonable complaint, but she was tired of it too. The problem was that he could get a ticket to freedom anytime, and she couldn't. The tabloids, and the potential “suers,” were gunning for her, not her husband. “I don't know what I'm saying to you,” Tony said unhappily, “it's not much fun like this, is it?”

“No, it's not,” she said sadly, too decimated by the look in his eyes to even argue with him about it. Somehow, the bad guys always won in the end. The tabloids and the lawsuits and the threats and the pressure of all of it proved to be too much for any relationship with any normal human being. “Are you telling me you want out?” she asked miserably. He was not the love of her life, but she was comfortable with him, she trusted him, she loved him and his kids. If it had been up to her, she would never have ended their marriage.

“I'm not sure,” he admitted to her. He had been thinking about it for a while, but he hadn't come to any definite conclusions. “I'm not sure how many more rounds of this I can take, to be honest with you. And I don't want to be unfair to you. It's really starting to get to me, and I thought you should know that.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” she said, looking at him, already feeling betrayed that he wasn't there for her, that the “embarrassment” of being married to her, and what it entailed, was making him want to leave her. “I wish I could make it better.”

“I wish it didn't bother me. I never thought it would. It all seems much more human scale until you step into it, and then it's very Alice-in-Wonderland. It's all very unreal as you begin to fall and fall and fall…” he said, and listening to him reminded her again that she loved him. He was a bright man, and despite their differences, they still had a lot in common.

“That's an interesting way to put it,” she said, smiling wistfully at him, knowing in her heart of hearts that for him anyway, it was probably already over. “What about the kids?” she asked, looking suddenly distraught. “If you leave, will you still let me see them?” There were tears in her eyes as she asked him. It had all been so bloodless so far and so reasonable. The first of many talks to begin the unraveling of their marriage. But he reached out and touched her hand when he saw the devastated look in her eyes. He felt terrible at what he was seeing. And he hated himself for doing this to her, but he had known for a while that he couldn't take it much longer. And the story in the morning paper had really gotten to him.

“I still love you, Tan,” he said in a whisper, and she hated him for looking so handsome as he said it. He still appealed to her a great deal, he was sexy, handsome, and smart, even if he wasn't there for her a lot of the time but she'd always been willing to forgive him. “I just wanted to tell you what I was feeling. And even if things don't work out for us, I would never stop you from seeing the kids. They love you,” he said, looking kindly at her in a way that tore her heart out. He was saying good-bye without saying the words, but she knew it wouldn't be long now. It was over for him, if not for her.

“And I love them.” She began to cry softly, and he went to sit next to her and put an arm around her shoulders.

“They love you too, and so do I, Tan, in my own crazy way,” he said, but she didn't believe him. If he really loved her, he wouldn't want to leave her.

“What about Wyoming? Will they still come? Will you?” she asked, feeling desperate and suddenly very frightened. She was losing him, and probably them too. Why would they want to see her if their father left her? Had she established enough of a relationship in the past three years for them to want to do that? And when she looked up, Tony was looking at her strangely.

“I think they ought to go with you. I think it would be a great experience for them,” he said, looking uncomfortable, and she understood immediately what he was saying.

“But you won't come. Is that it?”

“I don't think so. I think it would be a good time for us to take a break. I think I'm going to go to Europe.”

“When did that come up? Today on the golf course?” What was happening here? How long had he been planning this defection? She suddenly wondered as she listened. And as her eyes bored into his, he looked a little sheepish.

“I've been thinking about this for a while, Tan. It didn't just happen this morning over breakfast. I think that was kind of the catalyst. But it was the
Enquirer
last week. The
Star
the week before. It's been lawsuits and crises and death threats and tabloids ever since we got married.”

“I thought you were getting used to it,” she said, sounding startled.

“I don't see how anyone can. You're not used to it either.” He had worried at times about the incredible stress it all caused her, he knew that even people as young as she was sometimes keeled over and died from too much stress. Sometimes he seriously wondered how she didn't. “Anyway, Tanya, I'm sorry.”

“So what do we do now?” She wanted to know if she was supposed to go upstairs and pack his bags for him, or make wild passionate love to him and talk him out of it. What was the protocol, and what did he expect? And even more important than that, what was it she wanted? She didn't even know herself. She was still too hurt and too startled by what he was saying.

“I'm not sure what we do,” he said honestly. “I want to think about it for a while. But I wanted to warn you of the direction I'm going.”

“Kind of like a hurricane, or a flood, sort of a natural disaster,” she said, trying to smile, but tears kept springing to her eyes, and then Jean knocked on the door and stuck her head in.

“You're an hour late at the studio. The producer called, and he wanted to remind you the meter's running. The musicians want to know if they can take an early lunch and come back in an hour. And your agent called to remind you, he needs an answer from you today by four-thirty. Bennett Pearson called too. He needs you to call him as soon as you're finished.”

“Okay, okay.” Tanya put up a hand to stop her. “Tell the musicians to take lunch now. I'll be there in half an hour. Tell Tom to wait and we'll go over the arrangements.” And how in hell was she supposed to sing, and decide about Japan, a new film, another tour, and whether or not to pay a settlement to the blackmailer who had told his story in the morning paper? As Jean left the room again, she looked up at her husband. “I guess you're right. None of this is much fun, is it?”