Rory concentrated on squeezing out a C-shaped squiggle. “What’s going on with Georgie?”
“Georgie? Nothing.” He took his time reaching for the iced tea pitcher.
She deposited another squiggle next to the first one. “I hear from Chaz she’s disappeared.”
“Chaz only thinks she knows everything.” He wished he still smoked. It was easier to look cool with a cigarette than a tumbler of iced tea. “We’ve decided to spend the summer at Trev’s beach house. His new one. He sold his old house last month. It’ll be weekends only for me while I’m working, but she’s there now.” At least she was according to Aaron’s latest insider tip to the entertainment press, which had also included a description of Bram and Georgie’s nonexistent reunion, along with a mention of their plans to spend romantic summer weekends at the beach house. Aaron was getting good at lying.
Rory jabbed the icing tip toward her misshapen blob. “Damn it. This is a lot harder than it seems.” She finally looked up. “You can either tell me the rest now or we can talk in my office, along with Lou Jansen and Jane Clemati from Siracca.”
A meeting he wanted to avoid at all costs. “About?”
She focused on creating a new set of rose petals. She wasn’t going anywhere, and he finally gave in. “You must have heard about the audition tape.”
“I’ve seen it. She’s brilliant, and you need her.”
He went for Johnny Depp cool, but the best he could do without a cigarette was to lean against the counter with his iced tea glass and cross his ankles. “My wife has a mild case of cold feet, that’s all. I’m dealing with it.”
“And what brought on this sudden case of cold feet?”
The head of Vortex shouldn’t be involved with casting decisions on a small-time Siracca film, and he was more than a little sick of Rory’s self-appointed role as Georgie’s protector. “Georgie’s been through a lot these last few years. She doesn’t feel like taking any more risks right now.” He fought to control his temper. “I intend to change her mind, and I’d appreciate it if everybody would get off my back while I do that.”
“Really?” The lift of her eyebrow showed she didn’t believe a word. “Here’s what I think happened. I think you screwed up. Again.”
Depp wouldn’t flinch, and neither did he. “I didn’t.”
“According to everyone I’ve talked to, including Chaz, Georgie wanted to do this picture right up to the day before the audition.” She tossed down the icing bag. “Georgie’s a pro, and I’ve never heard of her getting cold feet. That leads me to believe she bowed out because, for some reason, she doesn’t want to work with you.”
He unclenched his jaw muscles. “You’re the one who doesn’t like working with me, not Georgie.”
“I went to bat for you, Bram. Not just because I love the script, and not just because you gave a great reading. I went to bat for you because Georgie believes in you. Or at least she used to.” She snatched the dish towel from the countertop and wiped her hands. “Don’t kid yourself. A lot of people expect you to screw up, and this is exactly the scenario they’ve been waiting for. If you don’t want to end your career hosting game shows, I strongly suggest you sort out your problems with your wife and get her in front of the cameras where she belongs.”
“Is that all?”
“Tell Chaz I’ll be expecting another lesson soon.”
She strode past him out the back door.
Bram shut his eyes and cupped the cold glass in his palms. Rory’s unwelcome visit fed the guilt he’d been living with every day, even though the lie he’d told Georgie had been for her own good. Because of her, his dream was going to come true, and as soon as she worked through this drama she’d created, she’d be grateful he hadn’t let her throw away her own golden opportunity.
But a lie was a lie, and he couldn’t back away from his dishonesty regardless of how much he wanted to.
The next morning, he pulled on shorts and a T-shirt and headed for Malibu. This time, only two black SUVs followed. Despite a stormy forecast, the Friday-morning traffic was brutal, so he had more time than he wanted to think. As he pulled up at Trev’s house, he waved at the paps before they peeled off to search for parking, something they’d have a hard time finding today.
Georgie didn’t answer the door, so he used the key Trev had given him. The house was quiet, but the open doors to the deck revealed an abandoned yoga mat. Trev lived on one of Malibu’s most exclusive beaches, but today the impending storm had thinned out the sun worshippers. He got rid of his shoes and walked out onto the sand. The star of a TV cop drama lounged next to his third wife while his kids dug a ditch. A container ship chugged against the horizon, and a flock of gulls cried overhead.
Georgie stood alone near the water’s edge, the wind whipping her dark hair. The same purple bikini bottom she’d worn in Mexico clung to her bottom, and her skimpy white T-shirt ended well above her waist. When had she grown so beautiful? He wanted to drag her into the house, pull off that little purple bikini bottom, and bury himself inside her.
She spotted him, but she didn’t exactly throw her arms around him as he came up next to her. He missed her oversize enthusiasm more than he could ever have imagined. “Is your heart leaping at the sight of me,” he said, “or have you wised up?”
“Some mild skittering. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Glad to hear it.” But he wasn’t glad. He wanted her to laugh and kiss him. “Let’s go for a walk.” He grabbed her hand before she could protest.
Famous faces were a dime a dozen on this stretch of sand, and no one did more than nod as they passed. One of the best parts of his relationship with Georgie was never feeling as if he needed to make conversation, but today that ease had disappeared. “Guess who’s taking cake-decorating lessons?”
“No idea.”
He told her about Chaz and Rory but didn’t mention the real reason for Rory’s visit. He stalled a little longer by going after a Frisbee that had gotten away from a couple of kids. When he returned, Georgie was sitting in the sand, her arms clasped around her knees.
He sank next to her and watched the whitecapped waves boom toward the shore. “It’s going to storm. Let’s head over to the Chart House for lunch.”
She gripped her knees tighter. “I don’t think I can stomach a cozy meal with the man who fed me to the wolves.”
He dug his heels into the sand. “I’ll take that as a positive sign that you’ve wised up about me, and this craziness is behind us.”
She snagged a strand of her hair. “Unfortunately, what they say is true. There’s a thin line between love and hate.”
Something unpleasant twisted in the pit of his stomach. “You don’t hate me, Scoot. You’ve just lost what little respect you’d started to develop.” He braced an elbow on his knee and studied the dark clouds skidding across the sky. “We made small-screen magic when you couldn’t stand me. No reason we can’t transfer that to the big screen.”
She tilted her head toward him, her funny green eyes somber. “The deadline’s passed. Jade has Helene locked up now.”
He picked up a beach stone and rubbed it between his fingers. “She’s not doing it.”
“Oh? And why’s that?”
He couldn’t postpone this any longer. “Because she was never under consideration.”
Georgie sat up straighter. He pitched the stone into the waves. “I lied to you.”
She curled her hands into fists.
He couldn’t look at her. “I had all kinds of good reasons at the time.”
Her mouth twisted bitterly. “You really are a bastard, aren’t you?”
“Exactly! I told you I was!”
Flying sand stung his bare calves as she jumped up. He shot to his feet and went after her. “Think about it, Georgie. Now that I’ve shown my true colors, nothing is standing in your way. The part is yours, and after what I’ve done, you can take it without worrying about any messy emotional crap getting in your way. You should be gla
d I lied.”
Even as he spoke, he didn’t believe a word of it. And neither did she. “I’m going in.” She picked up her stride.
He matched her steps. “I’m…pretty sure that guy over there has a camera. We need to make out first.”
“Make out with yourself.” Her heels kicked up pinwheels of sand. He slid his arm around her shoulder, forcing her to a slower pace.
He might as well have been hugging a cactus.
The picture would get made without her. They’d find another actress, maybe not as good, but adequate. Except everyone wanted Georgie, and his job as a producer was to make the impossible happen. He couldn’t let any of them—Rory, Hank, the lowliest crew member—see that he wasn’t up to that job.
They reached the house as a crack of lightning broke over the surf. He snagged her wrist, pulling her to a stop just as she was about to climb up to the deck. “Georgie…” He had trouble getting enough air into his lungs. “I’m not quite sure how to tell you this…”
The wind blew another lock of hair over her face. She pushed it back and cocked her head. He released her wrist. “I’ve…missed you these past few weeks. More than I ever thought.” Acid churned in his stomach as she continued to stand there, patiently waiting. “Help me out here.”
“I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”
“That…I didn’t realize how much I’d gotten used to being with you until you left. The two of us…I thought it was just a great friendship, but—I don’t know how to say this.” An awning cracked in the wind. “I might be…falling for you.”
She stared at him.
“Ironic, isn’t it. Just when you’ve gotten over me, now here I am…wishing you hadn’t.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“That lie about Jade. There was something a little desperate about it, right? I guess I didn’t want to…admit what I was really feeling.”
“What are you really feeling, Bram? You’re going to have to spell it out because I’m not getting it.”
“You know what I’m saying.”
Apparently she’d had enough of his hedging because she turned away and headed up the short flight of stairs.
“It started right here, you know,” he called after her. “Not fifteen or sixteen years ago during Skip and Scooter, but right here on Trev’s deck three months ago. You and me.” She stopped at the top and gazed down at him. He took the steps two at a time to reach her. “Ever since we woke up in the Vegas hotel room, we’ve been on this crazy Ferris wheel ride.” A gust of wind blew a newspaper across the deck. “I kept thinking you were the best friend I’ve ever had, but now I know it’s more than friendship.”
“It’s sex.”
He felt a flash of anger. “Sure, it’s sex, but that’s not all. We don’t have to put on false faces for each other. We…understand each other.” He rushed on, forcing out the next part even as he hated himself for what he was about to say. “I’ve even been thinking—Just thinking. Your idea about”—a giant fist squeezed his chest—“about having a baby.” She made a soft, indecipherable sound. He plowed on. “I’m a long way from saying let’s go for it. I’m just saying that…Just that I’m ready to at least talk about it.”
She was swallowing his face with her eyes, and he wanted to yell at her, to tell her he was a liar and not to be so damned gullible. Instead, he set aside whatever shreds of honor he had left and went for the big fucking finish. “I’m…falling in love with you, Georgie. For real.”
She pressed her fingertips to her lips. A boom of thunder shook the deck. “For real?” she whispered.
Pebble-sharp raindrops stung his face, and he nodded.
She didn’t do anything. She simply stood there. And then she said his name. “Bram…” Opening her arms, she threw herself at him. She wrapped herself around his chest, slid her legs between his, and he wanted to howl at the harm he’d done…right until the moment she jerked up her knee and slammed him in the nuts. Through his agonizing wheeze of pain, he heard two words.
“You bastard.”
The roar of the wind…The stomp of bare feet across the deck…The slam of the door as she disappeared inside…And the sound of his own wrenching gasps. He clutched the edge of a stone and tried not to pass out. The door opened again and his car keys flew by, over the deck rail and into the sand.
The storm broke.
Georgie stood inside the locked door, clutching herself to keep her insides from boiling through her skin. The rain slashed at the windows, slashed at her. Bram hadn’t changed. He was a user, as manipulative as ever, pretending to offer what she most yearned for in order to get what he coveted for himself.
The storm raged outside; a fiercer storm raged inside.
Her sham of a marriage was over, and there’d be no friendly divorce. No Bruce and Demi. This public humiliation would be so much worse than the first time. And she didn’t care. Her years of posing and posturing had ended. She’d never be spunky Scooter Brown, the girl who could bounce back from any adversity with a smile and a wisecrack. She was a real woman who’d been betrayed.
And this time she’d have her revenge.
Once Bram was able to move again, he staggered down to the sand and threw himself in the ocean. Oblivious to the angry waves and dark undertow, he prayed for the water to wash away his sins. He dove under a wave, came up, and dove under again. All his life he’d hustled and manipulated, but he’d never done anything as wicked as what he’d just tried to put over on the person who least deserved it.
He saw the wave right before it hit him, a looming tower of water. It crashed on top of him and flipped him over. He twisted, pitched, floated for an instant, then flipped again. Sand scraped his elbow, then something sharp bit into his leg. He lost his bearings. His lungs burned. The current caught him and pulled him—up, down, he didn’t know—the selfish current, following its own course without sparing a thought for its victim.
He broke through the surface, glimpsed the shore, then got sucked beneath again by the undertow. She’d become his conscience, his mistress, his guardian angel, his best friend. She’d become his love.
His body shot toward the light—a shimmering glow visible only in his head. He gasped for air, went under, plunged to the bottom. He loved her.
The current caught him and tossed him again, a useless scrap of human flotsam whose life’s mission had been to please only himself.
The image of her face came to him, swept him up, seized him, and dragged him until his feet touched bottom. His elbow was bleeding, his leg, his heart. He staggered to shore and collapsed in the sand.
Chapter 26
She’d locked the doors against him. He felt as if his skin had peeled off, the beautiful facade he’d hidden behind ripped away to reveal all the ugliness beneath. He stumbled back to the beach, pulling off his sodden T-shirt and pressing it to his bloody elbow. He located his car keys in the sand, but Trev’s house key had been on a separate ring and was nowhere to be found. After a last futile attempt to get Georgie to answer the door, he gave up.
The paps had disappeared. Shivering and bleeding, he made his way to his car and started the long drive back home through the storm. He couldn’t imagine how he’d be able to make her understand what had just happened. She’d never believe him. And why should she? He’d even turned her desire for a baby into a bargaining chip.
The full extent of this disaster he’d brought on himself made it hard to breathe. What the hell had he done, and how was he going to fix it? Not with another phone message, that was for sure.
But after he got home, he couldn’t stop himself, and when her voice mail picked up, he let it all spill out. “Georgie, I love you. Not the way I said earlier, but really. I know it doesn’t seem that way, but I didn’t understand like I do now…” He rambled on, mixing up his words, his thoughts, trying to get it all out and failing miserably, knowing he’d only made everything worse.
Georgie listened to every syllable of his message, every lie.
The words burned into her flesh, leaving bleeding tattoos behind. Her fury was boundless. She would make him pay. He’d taken away what she wanted most, and now she’d do the same to him.
That evening, after Bram was cleaned up and more clearheaded, he drove back to Malibu. The paps must have believed he was still at the beach because no SUVs loitered at the end of his driveway. He’d decided to break down the door if she wouldn’t let him in the house, although he doubted that would soften her heart. Along the way, he bought her flowers, as if a couple dozen roses would make a difference, then stopped to pick up mangoes because he remembered she liked them. He also bought her a snow-white teddy bear holding a red heart in its paws, but as he left the store, he realized that was the kind of thing junior high kids did, and he stuffed it in the trash.
As it turned out, the house was dark and her car missing from the garage. He waited around for a while, hoping she’d come back, suspecting she wouldn’t. Eventually he headed for Santa Monica, his car still full of flowers and mangoes.
When he arrived at Paul’s town house, he futilely scanned the street for Georgie’s car. The last person he wanted to face was his father-in-law, and he thought about turning around, but Paul was his best shot at getting to Georgie.
He hadn’t seen him since the night of the wedding party, and the visible hostility on his face as he answered the door eradicated any hope Bram might have been harboring that Paul would help him out. Paul’s lips thinned as he gave Bram the once-over. “The golden boy looks a little under the weather.”
“Yeah, well, it’s been a rainy day. A rainy month.”