Laura still had her eyes on Paul, who abruptly left the room. Georgie was afraid to look at Rory until she heard a long, weary sigh. “All right, Bram…This is against my better judgment, but let’s go someplace and talk.”
Georgie gave a strangled yelp, but other than a small twitch at the corner of his mouth, Bram didn’t exhibit anything except lazy confidence. “Sure. We can talk in my office.”
“Well…well…,” Jade remarked as Rory and Bram disappeared.
“I’ll say.” Meg uncrossed her legs and rose from her perch on the floor. “I can’t wait to tell Mom about this.”
Lance drummed his fingers on his thigh, something he did when he was unhappy. Chaz came in from the kitchen, where she’d undoubtedly been eavesdropping, and asked if anyone wanted more coffee. What Georgie wanted to do was leap up and dance.
Her guests drifted off to their various beds. Georgie finally went upstairs. She was dying to hear about Rory’s conversation with Bram, and she tried to read while she waited but finally gave it up. Her thoughts drifted to her ex-husband. From the time they’d started dating until the end of their marriage, she’d let her love for him define who she was—first Lance Marks’s girlfriend, then Lance Marks’s wife, and finally Lance’s tragically victimized ex-wife. She’d let herself become the emotional slave of a famous, talented, unfaithful, but not really rotten…slab of tofu.
Bram shot through the door and dive-bombed the bed. Yanking the covers away, he kissed her until she was delirious.
“I take it…,” she said breathlessly, “…that you’re demonstrating your gratitude.”
“I am.” He grinned and brushed her temples with his thumbs. “Thank you, Georgina. I mean it.” He slipped his hand under her tank top and pinched her nipple. “But don’t ever do anything like that again without warning me. I nearly had a heart attack.”
She decided she could wait to hear the details of his meeting and arched her breast into his hand. “You’re welcome. Now show me how grateful you really are.”
He did exactly that.
The next morning Bram was as happy as Georgie had ever seen him. His eyes sparkled, and the razor edges of his mouth had softened. Rory had agreed to produce Tree House through Siracca Productions, a subsidiary of Vortex that made low-budget, so-called independent, films. He finally had exactly what he wanted. Georgie experienced a brief pang of envy. She felt more creative excitement filming Chaz than she’d felt for her real work. And then she remembered Helene.
That afternoon the health department lifted the quarantine after blood tests determined that Jade’s assistants were suffering from a virus, not from SARS. Both women were still weak, but improving. By the time everyone was ready to leave, three helicopters buzzed overhead, and a media maelstrom waited at the gates. Rory slipped out the back, but the rest of them waited for the police to arrive and clear the way.
Now that Bram’s dreams were coming true, Georgie had to take the next step toward realizing her own. She went outside to find Laura. As her agent came back up the path from the guesthouse, Georgie walked down the steps to meet her. Laura’s baby-fine hair bounced this way and that around the soft prettiness of her face. She didn’t look tough enough to be an agent, and maybe she wasn’t. Georgie licked her lips. “I want you to cancel my meeting with Rich Greenberg tomorrow.”
Laura stopped in her tracks, her brown eyes widening with alarm. “Georgie, I can’t do that. You have no idea how hard I worked to get that meeting. You weren’t even on Rich’s radar screen until I talked to him, but now he’s thinking seriously about you.”
“I understand, but you didn’t talk to me about it first. I’m not doing that film.”
“Rich has some great ideas. You should at least hear him out.”
“It’s a waste of his time. I’ll call him myself and apologize.”
Laura tugged on her necklace. The deep shadows under her eyes indicated she hadn’t been sleeping well. “Your father is…He strongly believes this is the best project for you.”
“I’ll make sure he understands this was my decision.”
Laura looked unconvinced.
“I can’t do it,” Georgie said. “That last film I made…All I did was go through the motions.”
“Don’t say that. You’re a brilliant performer.”
“Spoken like a true agent.” She knew what she had to do. Bram, of all people, had shown her. “I don’t think people should live their lives just going through the motions. I want more from myself.”
“I understand that, but—”
“I want to play Helene in Tree House.”
Laura blinked. “Wow. I didn’t see that coming. That’s…quite a different part for you. Bram has…agreed to this?”
“He owes me an audition. I know I can do it. It’s a role that excites me, and I’m going to put everything I have into landing it.”
“Of course you have my support, but…”
“We’d better get inside.” She squeezed Laura’s wrist, a gesture of regret, and led her across the veranda.
The police were at the gate, and Bram met Georgie in the foyer to see everyone off. Aaron appeared with a notepad and asked Lance and Jade for their autographs. “Would you sign these to Chaz?” He passed the notepad and a pen to Jade. “Maybe something about liking her food. She’s too embarrassed to ask for herself.”
Jade looked blank.
“Our housekeeper,” Georgie said. “The girl who’s been making our meals all weekend.”
“Oh, yes…”
Bram snorted.
Jade signed, then tapped her foot, impatient to go. Lance hung back, still waiting for Georgie’s forgiveness. The wounds he’d inflicted on her began ticking through her head. But she’d played the filmstrip too many times, and watching it had grown boring. She thought of all the things she could say to hurt him, but that proved to be boring, too.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re absolved, Lancelot. Go and sin no more.”
Bram’s hand settled in the small of her back and rubbed.
“Do you mean it?” Lance said. “You’ve forgiven me?”
“Why not? It’s hard to hold on to a grudge when you don’t care anymore. Besides, you have enough trouble on your hands.”
“What do you mean by that?”
She meant that Jade never looked at Lance the way Lance looked at Jade, with such single-minded adoration. Jade probably loved him in her own way, but not as much as he loved her, and that didn’t bode well for a man with such massive insecurities.
Revenge came in strange forms, but she only said, “Changing the world isn’t easy, and the two of you have your work cut out for you.”
She’d given him what he wanted, but she saw that it didn’t make him entirely happy. Some part of him had liked her suffering—just a little bit—and he wasn’t quite ready to let it go. She smiled and looped her arm through Bram’s. Lance scowled, and Jade glanced at her watch, oblivious to it all.
As they finally left, Bram chuckled softly in her ear, “Impressive. Since when did you grow up?”
“Your influence, I’m sure,” she said dryly. But in a way it was true. Life was moving too fast for her to waste time gnawing over wounds that had healed when she wasn’t paying attention.
Meg announced that she was moving back home for a while. “Now that I know Bram’s not beating you, I’ll leave you alone.” She shot Bram her version of her father’s Bird Dog Caliber squint. “But don’t think I won’t be checking up on you.”
Finally, only Paul remained. “I’ve drafted a statement to the media that I suggest you release as soon as possible.”
Georgie automatically bristled, but Bram stepped in. “What do we have to say in this statement?”
“Exactly what you’d expect.” Paul passed over the paper he was holding. “How grateful you both are that the two women in the hospital are feeling better…The past is the past…You both couldn’t be more supportive of the good work Jade and Lance are doing. Et ce
tera. Et cetera.”
“Who knew we were so civilized?” Georgie said.
Bram nodded. “Sounds good to me. Aaron can take care of it.” He handed the paper off to Georgie, then headed for his office with the jaunty step of a man who’d just won the lottery.
“What are you doing this afternoon?” Paul asked.
She dreaded telling him she’d canceled the Greenberg meeting. “I have a ton of paperwork to catch up on.”
“Do it later. The helicopters have flown off. What do you say the two of us go for a swim?”
“A swim?”
“I saw some extra trunks in the guesthouse. I’ll meet you at the pool.” He set off without waiting for her agreement, which was so typical. She stomped upstairs and took her time pulling on a lemon-yellow bikini, then wrapping a beach towel around her waist. She’d been through enough these past few days, and she wasn’t ready to plunge into what was guaranteed to be an ugly scene.
He waited for her in the pool, standing awkwardly in the middle of the water. He swam for exercise, not for enjoyment, and he looked odd just standing there. She dropped the towel, sat on the edge of the pool near the steps, and took her time dipping her toes in the water. “I need to talk to you about the meeting tomorrow. I spoke to Laura, and—”
“Let’s swim.”
He loved career talks, especially when they involved upcoming meetings with producers and directors. He could go on forever about the attitude she should project and what she should say. She looked at him curiously, trying to figure out why he was being so weird.
“The water’s perfect,” he said.
“O-kay.” She slipped in.
He immediately began swimming toward the deep end. As he turned back toward her, she kicked off.
It went on that way for a while, the two of them swimming back and forth in opposite directions, neither one speaking. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she finally put her feet down. “Dad, I know how much this Greenberg meeting means to you, but—”
He stopped swimming. “We don’t always have to talk about business. Why don’t we just…relax a little?”
She regarded him quizzically. “Is something wrong?”
“No, no. Nothing’s wrong.” But he wasn’t meeting her eyes, and he seemed uncomfortable. Maybe she’d watched too many movies, because she started wondering if he might have some kind of terminal disease, or maybe he’d decided to marry one of the women he dated, none of whom Georgie could warm up to, although she was grateful her father dated age-appropriately instead of going out with the twenty-somethings he could still attract.
“Dad, are you—”
An enormous splash of water hit her full in the face. She put up her hands, but not before he drew back his arm and sent another splash flying directly at her. Water shot up her nose and stung her eyes. She sputtered and choked. “What are you doing?”
His arm dropped to his side. His face flushed with what, if she didn’t know him better, would have been embarrassment. “I was just…having a little fun.”
She coughed and finally caught her breath. “Well, stop it!”
He took a step back. “I’m sorry. I thought…”
“Are you sick? What’s wrong?”
He lunged for the ladder. “I’m not sick. We’ll talk later.”
He grabbed his towel and hurried off toward the house. She gazed after him, trying to figure out what had just happened.
Chapter 20
After Georgie had dressed and showered, she went into her office. Aaron sat at the computer, working away to the invisible beat coming through his headphones. He started to remove them, but she gestured for him to leave them on. Her father’s things were gone. Good. That meant she could take the coward’s way out and text him this evening to tell him she’d refused the meeting instead of delivering the news face-to-face.
She glanced at the guest list for their wedding party, which was less than three weeks away, and saw that nearly everyone had accepted—no surprise. A stack of invitations to benefits, fashion shows, and the debut of her hairdresser’s new product line waited for her, but she didn’t want to do any of it. She only wanted to look at the film she’d shot of Chaz.
Aaron had helped her set up her new editing equipment in the far corner of the room. She loaded the footage and quickly became absorbed in what she saw. As much as Chaz’s story fascinated her, she was also intrigued by Soledad, the housecleaner. And there were so many others she wanted to talk to. Waitresses and shop-girls. Meter maids and nursing-home aides. She wanted to record the stories of everyday women doing everyday work in the glamour capital of the world.
When she finally looked up from the monitor, she discovered Aaron had left for the day. Laura should have canceled her meeting by now, but just in case she hadn’t, Georgie would wait until tomorrow morning to call Rich Greenberg with her apologies.
She went downstairs and was unpleasantly surprised to find her father coming out of the screening room. “Catching up on an old Almodóvar film,” he said.
“I thought you’d left.”
“My cleaning service discovered a mold problem in the town house. I’m having it treated, but I need to move out for a few days while that’s going on. I hope you don’t mind if I stay here a little longer.”
She did mind, especially now that she had to deliver the news about the canceled meeting to his face. “That’s fine.”
Bram emerged from the kitchen. “Stay as long as you want, Dad,” he drawled. “You know you’re always welcome here.”
“Like the plague,” her father shot back.
“Not as long as you follow the rules.”
“Which means?”
Bram was clearly enjoying himself, but then the world was his oyster, so why not? “First, leave Georgie alone. She’s my headache now, not yours.”
“Hey!” Georgie planted her hand on her hip.
“Second…Actually, that’s it. Ease up on your daughter. But I’d also like to hear your thoughts on Tree House.”
Her father glowered. “Don’t you ever get tired of being sarcastic, Shepard?”
Georgie stared at Bram. “I don’t think he’s being sarcastic, Dad. He really wants your opinion. And, believe me, I’m as surprised as you.”
Her fake husband looked down his nose at her. “Just because Paul’s a controlling pain in the ass who drives you crazy doesn’t mean he’s not smart. He gave a hell of a reading last night, and I’d like to hear what he has to say about the script.”
Her father, who was never at a loss for words, didn’t seem to know how to respond. Finally, he slipped a hand in his pocket and said, “All right.”
Their dinner conversation got off to an awkward start, but no one came to blows, and before long, they were brainstorming ways to solve a credibility problem in Helene and Danny’s first scene. Later, Paul argued that Ken’s character should be more nuanced, insisting that adding more layers to the abusive father’s personality would make him additionally menacing. Georgie agreed with her father, and Bram listened attentively.
Gradually, she realized that the original script hadn’t been as flawless as Bram had led her to believe, and that Bram was the person who’d polished it, sometimes making only minor tweaks, but also adding new scenes while still remaining faithful to the original book. Knowing Bram could write so well added another crack in the foundation of her old convictions about him.
Bram downed the last of his coffee. “You’ve given me some good ideas. I need to make a few notes.”
It was long past time for her to get down to the gruesome business of being honest with her father, and she reluctantly waved Bram off.
As a predictably uncomfortable silence fell between them, another fragment of memory slipped through her. She’d only been four when her mother died, so she didn’t have a lot of memories, but she remembered a shabby apartment that seemed perpetually filled with laughter, sunshine, and what her mother called freebie plants. She’d lop off part of a sweet
potato or the top of a pineapple and stick it in a pot of dirt, or suspend an avocado pit with toothpicks over a glass of water. Her father hardly ever talked about her mother, but when he did, he described her as a well-meaning but disorganized scatterbrain. But they’d looked happy in their photos.
She curled her fingers around the napkin in her lap. “Dad, it’s about tomorrow…”
“I know you’re not entirely enthusiastic, but don’t let Greenberg see that. Describe how you’ll put your own spin on the character. Get him to offer you that part. It’s going to take your career to the next level, I promise.”
“But I don’t want the part.”
She could see his frustration, and she braced herself for a pointed lecture on her stubbornness, lack of vision, naïveté, and ingratitude. But then he did the oddest thing. He said, “Why don’t we play some cards?”
“Cards?”
“Why not?”
“Because you hate cards. Dad, what is wrong with you?”
“There’s nothing wrong with me. Just because I’d like to play cards with my daughter doesn’t mean anything’s wrong. We can do more than talk about business, you know.”
She wasn’t buying it, not for a minute. Laura had spilled the beans about the canceled meeting, and instead of confronting Georgie directly about it, her father had decided to change his strategy. The fact that he believed he could manipulate her with these clumsy attempts at being a “pal” devastated her. He was dangling what she most wanted in front of her to make her do his bidding. This was his newest tactic to keep her from slipping away.
Her pain morphed into anger. It was time she let him know she was no longer letting him control her life in the futile hope that he’d throw a few crumbs of genuine affection her way. This past month had changed her. She’d made mistakes, but they’d been her mistakes, and she intended to keep it that way. “You’re not going to talk me into rescheduling the meeting,” she said flatly. “I canceled it.”
Her heart started to pound. Did she have the guts to hold her ground, or was she going to give in to him once again?