You Belong To Me (16 page)

Read You Belong To Me Online

Authors: Patricia Sargeant

BOOK: You Belong To Me
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“Fine. Thanks. Are you enjoying the evening?” Frank linked his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels, causing a lock of hair to bounce against his forehead.
“Yes, we are,” Nicole responded. The writer in her was fascinated to see Leo's mannerisms reflected in his son.
“Is it everything you'd hoped it would be?” he continued, raking back his unruly curls.
Nicole tilted her head, contemplating the question. “I guess that remains to be seen. What are your impressions of the evening?”
Frank accepted a glass of wine from a passing server. He sipped the drink, eyeing her. “People seem interested. What do you think, Malcolm?”
Malcolm smiled wryly. “As Nicky said, the final results aren't in yet.”
“How long do you think it will take to count the final votes?”
“Hopefully we'll know in a week or two,” Malcolm responded. “When we see the media coverage.”
“Good. Nicole, Christopher Gilliard is giving a talk at USC next Tuesday.” Frank paused to pull a folded flyer from his inner jacket pocket. “Would you like to go?” He passed the flyer to her.
Nicole skimmed over the information. “No, thank you. I've attended his presentation on this topic before. It's very interesting, and he's a good speaker. You should get a lot out of it.” Nicole tried to return the flyer to Frank.
“Keep it,” Frank said. “If you change your mind and decide to go, let me know. His presentation starts at seven. I can pick you up at five, and we can get dinner first.”
Nicole decided not to argue the chance of her changing her mind. “All right. I'll let you know.”
Frank gave Nicole his lady-killer-in-training smile. “Okay. Sure.” He turned toward Malcolm. “You're welcome to join us, of course.”
“Thank you. I think Nicky and I will mingle a bit more now. It's good to see you, Frank.” Malcolm extended his hand. Frank shook it, then reached for Nicole's outstretched hand.
“It's good to see both of you,” Frank said, then lifted the empty wineglass in a toast. “Take care.”
Less than an hour later, Nicole's legs felt as though she'd been walking the entire evening. She leaned against a wall, waiting for Malcolm to return from the restroom.
“I'm glad to finally find you alone, dear. I thought Malcolm would never leave your side.” Ava DeCaprio's voice interrupted Nicole's thoughts.
She stepped away from the wall she'd been leaning against and turned to face her hostess. “We'll be leaving shortly. It's been a lovely evening. We appreciate all the trouble you went through.”
“It was our pleasure, dear,” Ava replied. She looked around at the guests, who were still mingling and mixing, before turning her dark blue gaze back to Nicole. “I noticed you talking with my son earlier.”
Nicole smiled. “Yes, he's a very nice young man.”
Ava stared at her intently. “Yes, isn't he?”
Nicole frowned, wondering what subtle message she might be missing.
“Oh, there's no need to be coy, dear.” The older woman waved a negligent hand. “I understand. Having a handsome, young man enthralled with her helps a woman feel young and desirable. Doesn't it?”
Nicole arched a brow. “I wouldn't know.”
Ava smiled, the expression not reaching her eyes. “There's no need to pretend, dear. I understand that some women need that boost. They don't feel adequate on their own. But I don't want any woman playing with my son's feelings. Call me overprotective, but mothers don't like people hurting their families.”
Nicole wondered at the woman's sanity. “Ms. DeCaprio, your concerns are not warranted. I don't have any designs on your son, and I don't believe your son has any interest in me.”
“I hope you're right. In any event, it's probably best if you don't lead him on.” Ava regarded Nicole thoughtfully. “You and Malcolm make a handsome couple.”
Nicole took a calming breath. “Mal and I are just friends.”
“Well, certainly, dear. If you say so.” Ava turned and disappeared.
 
Nicole convinced Malcolm to leave the party shortly after her exchange with Ava. She was uncomfortable during their good-byes to their hosts. Now, as she stared through Malcolm's car window at the night embracing the city streets, she wondered how anyone could imagine Frank would be attracted to her. Ava must be crazy.
“Is Frank developing a crush on you?” Malcolm's voice startled Nicole from her brooding.
She turned to look at him, wondering if the whole world had gone mad or only those people involved in the Los Angeles film industry. “No.”
“Are you sure?” Malcolm's gaze remained glued to the road and its sparse traffic.
“Of course I'm sure. He's what? Twenty-one? Twenty-two? I'm thirty-three. What would a young white man want with a much older black woman?”
“A very attractive woman,” Malcolm clarified.
Nicole snorted and returned her attention to the Los Angeles streets.
“If he's not getting a crush on you, why did he ask you out?” Malcolm persisted.
Nicole shifted to face him. “He didn't ask me out. He told me about an upcoming presentation by an author we both like.”
“What about his invitation to dinner?”
“What about your relationship with Janet Greene?” Nicole's irritation made her reckless enough to ask the question she'd promised herself to avoid. She felt Malcolm's sudden tension and braced herself for his answer.
“We dated briefly,” he admitted. “It was a long time ago.”
“How long? Four years? Or longer?”
Malcolm pulled the car up to the curb in front of her apartment building and shut off the engine. He turned to her and impaled her with a hard look. “What are you implying?”
Nicole tilted her chin, determined not to be intimidated. “Is she the reason you left me?” She forced herself to ask the question despite the pain.
Malcolm's gaze narrowed. “No. I was faithful to our vows.”
Nicole searched his eyes and knew he spoke the truth. She nodded, then unfastened her seat belt and opened the car door. “Good night, Mal.”
“I'll walk up with you.”
“That's not necessary,” she said, but he joined her on the curb.
“It is to me.” He cupped her elbow and escorted her to the building.
Nicole felt inexplicably awkward leading the way to her apartment. She searched her mind for something to say. Inspiration didn't hit until she stood before her apartment door.
“Thank you for driving tonight.” She unlocked her door, then turned to smile at him. “Good night, Mal.”
“Good night, Nicky. Pleasant dreams.” He offered her a slight smile, then turned to descend the stairway.
She slipped into the apartment and, without turning on the lights, locked her door. She rushed to the picture windows overlooking the street in front of her building. As she watched, Malcolm approached his car and climbed into the driver's seat.
Pleasant dreams,
she thought.
 
“So, what's the progress report on the project?” Denise asked.
Nicole sat on the couch, the phone cord stretching across the room. She'd already told her agent about the dinner party the DeCaprios had hosted the previous weekend.
“Mal and I finished the casting calls last week. They were pretty intense and exhausting. We're narrowing down our choices. I think we have a good mixture of unknowns and well-known actors. I'd rather go with a cast of unknowns so moviegoers won't attribute traits of the actors' past roles to my
InterDimensions
characters. But Mal said we should cast at least a couple of known actors for marketing purposes and to benefit from their fan base.”
“He's right.”
“I know. I agree with him. It's just that I hope the actors' images don't detract from the characters they'll play.” Nicole shifted to stretch out on the sofa.
“Just make sure they're cast in roles they'll be compatible with.” Denise's no-nonsense comment made Nicole smile. “How are the site surveys going?”
Nicole slouched farther into the couch, trying to get more comfortable. “We've chosen a couple of locations and agreed on our preferences. Now we're just waiting to see which one works best on paper.”
“Good. And how's the budget?”
“We're coming in at just a little under our initial estimates.”
“Even better news. Now for my update. Marketing for book four begins next week.”
“Great.” Nicole felt her pulse thump with excitement.
“I thought you'd be pleased. How are things going with you and Malcolm?” Denise's tone seemed a bit too casual.
“They're going well. We have a comfortable working relationship.”
“You've been in L.A. for more than a month now. Have you discussed the divorce with him?”
“Yes, I have.”
From across the phone line, Nicole noticed a slight clicking noise. It sounded like Denise drumming her nails on the desk. Nicole's lips quirked with humor. She wondered whether her agent had polished her nails purple like she had last year in honor of Easter Sunday, which was six days away.
“And?” Denise's impatience crackled through the receiver.
Nicole swung her legs off her sofa and rose to pace. “He doesn't want to talk about the past. He just wants to start over.”
“And you want to discuss it?”
Nicole paused and stared across the dining area into the kitchen. She wished the phone cord was long enough to extend to the sink so she could pour herself a glass of water. Instead, she licked her dry lips and continued pacing. Each step seemed to take her further back in time until that final day appeared before her like a tarnished wedding photo.
“After our baby died, I thought the pain from the loss would kill us,” she began. “Everyone told us, ‘Time heals all wounds.' But the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, and we just felt worse. Mal and I went into a deep depression. We weren't talking to each other.” She laughed without humor. “We took turns sleeping on the sofa.”
“Did you try counseling?”
Nicole shrugged to relieve the tension in her shoulders. “Yes. We attended sessions for months. But Mal's never been good at expressing his feelings. Talking to him was like talking to a wall.”
She wandered over to the picture window and stared across the street. A silver luxury car was parked in the space where the black SUV often sat. She hadn't noticed the SUV during her jog this morning.
“So then what happened?” Denise asked.
Nicole turned away from the window and gauged the distance to the sink. She decided against asking Denise to hold on while she filled a glass with water. Instead, she continued with her story. “And then we ran out of time. I came home late one day, and he picked a fight.”
“A fight?” Denise's tone rose in alarm.
“A verbal argument.” Nicole made the clarification quickly. “A very ugly verbal argument, full of blame and accusations.”
“I thought you said he didn't blame you.”
Nicole strained to see through the clouds of memories. She stopped pacing and ran a hand through her unbound hair. “I told you he never came right out and said the words. He never accused me, but I felt as though he blamed me.”
“It's not too late for you to clear the air.”
“I've tried, but he won't talk about the past. He just wants to start over.”
“And what do you want?”
Denise's question faced a long silence as Nicole had a realization about herself.
“I want answers,” she said. “I want to know whether he blames me. And if he's telling the truth, if he doesn't blame me, then I want to know why he left.”
“I understand, and I think you're right. This foolishness needs to stop,” Denise said, warming to her subject. “You've been letting him get away with ducking the issue for far too long.”
“But, Denise,” Nicole said, troubled by her own thoughts. “There's a part of me that's tempted to let him get away with avoiding the issue. What does that make me?”
“Very confused.”

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