Damn, he wanted conversation and she wasn't in the mood. Once she
would have humored him, been polite, chatted all the way to the studio
even though she didn't want to. Now she was a different Lauren, no
longer into pleasing everyone. She raised the privacy glass, cutting
him off in mid-sentence.
Pia had wanted to come with her, but she'd said no, this was one trip
she had to make by herself. This trip was a test. She was all grown
up and she wasn't about to turn to mush when she saw Nick again.
Arriving at the studio she was hustled straight through to makeup.
"I have my own ideas," she said to the makeup artist.
"Fine with me," the girl said. "I'll do whatever you want."
"I see this character as tough-looking, yet with a vulnerable streak.
Smoky eyes, natural eyebrows, not much lipstick."
"Sounds good," the girl said.
Lauren had studied the script on the plane. As usual, the female role
was somewhat passive, but if she got the part she had lots of ideas.
"I heard a rumor that Nick Angel is coming in to test with you
himself," the girl said in a reverential tone.
Lauren wasn't surprised. She'd known he'd be around. Well, she was
prepared. They were both married now-they were even.
"He's a nice guy," the makeup girl went on. "His wife's a real pain,
though. She doesn't visit the set often, but when she does-oh boy, run
for the hills. You'd think she was royalty."
"Is she an actress?" Lauren asked.
"From what I hear she tried to be and never made it."
"Oh," Lauren said. She'd seen pictures of Nick with his wife. She
wasn't the woman she'd imagined he'd marry.
I am not tingling with anticipation, she told herself sternly. When I
see him I will not fall to pieces like I did last time. I'm a
different person now. I've finally grown up. It's been a long time.
Yes, Roberts?
Yes.
They met on the set, so there was no time to get personal, as they were
surrounded by people.
"Hey, congratulations on all your success," Nick said, a polite but
friendly stranger. "It's really great to see you again."
"You too, Nick. You're amazing. I can't believe your career."
He smiled. "I know-it's good, huh?"
She smiled back. "Very good."
He peered at her closely. "Now, let me see-there's something different
about you."
She grimaced. "Yeah, wrinkles-I'm older."
"You-never."
"Thank you."
The director came over to introduce himself, and ask her if she was
comfortable with the scene. She assured him she was. "I've studied
the script. I understand this character."
"Good," said the director, moving off to confer with the cameraman.
"Freddie Leon's very high on you," Nick said, impressed with the way
she handled herself. "He thinks you could be big."
"I'm glad I have the opportunity to test for this movie. You know I
always loved acting."
He nodded, remembering Betty and their acting class in Bosewell.
"This sure takes me back. Remember Cat on a Hot Tin Roof?"
She smiled. "How could I ever forget it?"
"You were the actress then," he admitted. "I was the amateur."
"And now it's the other way around."
"Hey, don't knock it-you're just as famous as I am."
She nodded. "It's funny, isn't it?"
"Yeah. Cyndra and I were talking about it the other night. We decided
there must have been something in the water at Bosewell High."
"In that case-" "I know what you're gonna say," he interrupted,
laughing. "So what happened with Stock an' Meg and all the rest of
em?
The scam is this-you had to drink the water, then get out of town."
They were both quiet for a moment before she continued their
conversation. "Congratulations, Nick," she said. "I haven't seen you
"Yeah. Lissa's a little beauty."
For one painful moment Lauren thought about the baby she'd aborted.
Nick's baby. She'd never told him. She'd never told him about what
happened between her and his father, either. It was better that way.
The director returned and asked if they were ready.
"Let's do it," Nick said. "Let's make it as good as old times." He
looked at her. "Right, Lauren?"
She took a deep breath. "Right, Nick."
He made sure the scene went smoothly, filling her in on camera r
angles, lighting and the best way to play to the camera. "It's
different than working in the theater," he explained. "You play it
down instead of up. The camera catches everything."
He obviously hadn't seen her commercials. She knew exactly what she
was doing.
When they played the scene, he gave it to her-wanting her to get the
role. They were finished before lunch. "Okay," he said. "I'm
buying."
"No, Freddie Leon is," she replied quickly. "He's sending a car for
me.
Nick felt a stab of jealousy. What the fuck was Freddie up to? "Am I
invited?" he asked lightly, walking her back to her dressing room.
She shrugged. "I don't know-you'd better ask Freddie."
"Hey-I don't have to ask, he's my agent." He paused for a moment.
"You don't mind if I come, do you?"
She stopped at the door to her dressing room. "Not at all."
"I'll have someone call Freddie and tell him I'll bring you to the
restaurant. Why don't I meet you here in fifteen minutes?"
As soon as he left she rushed to the mirror, staring at her
reflection.
Nothing had changed. Absolutely nothing. She was still as hooked as
she'd ever been.
Tough luck, Roberts.
Screw you.
Freddie dominated lunch. He was charming, funny and completely unlike
himself. They ate at Le Dome on Sunset, sitting at a round table in
the back room. Nick settled back and watched Lauren in action. She
was different, he decided. More sophisticated, stylish and definitely
more worldly. But underneath the gloss he knew there was still the
same sweet Lauren he'd fallen in love with.
"You know," Freddie said with his new charming smile. "This lunch was
for me to persuade Lauren to become an I.A.A. client. I guess I can't
do that with you sitting in on the meeting, Nick."
"You're doing a pretty good job," he replied, determined to stick
around.
Lauren sipped a glass of Perrier, well aware of the interaction between
the two men. "It's so good to see you again, Nick," she said, as if
they were nothing more than polite strangers. "And meeting you,
Freddie, is a pleasure."
He wanted to touch her so badly he didn't know how he controlled
himself. And he wanted to smash his best friend, Freddie Leon, in the
face.
Eventually Freddie left the table to go to the john.
Nick waited until Freddie was out of sight and leaned across the
table.
"Can we have dinner tonight?"
She kept her voice even. "I'm planning on taking the late flight back
to New York."
"You just got here," he pointed out.
"I know, but I have an important meeting tom
orrow morning. MarcelIa
has offered me a deal to start my own cosmetics line."
"Oh, like you're not busy enough?"
She was immediately defensive. "How do you know how busy I am?"
"I read the papers. You're always in the New York columns doing this
and that."
"I read the papers too, Nick," she replied, staring straight at him.
He laughed. "Nice talk."
"How's your marriage?" she couldn't help asking.
"How's yours?" he countered.
Their eyes met and there was a long moment of silent intimacy.
Freddie bounced back to the table. "Lauren," he said, "I know you're
not making any decisions today, but I'll be in New York next week, so
why don't we have dinner and talk about it then?"
Why don't we have dinner and talk about it then? Nick couldn't believe
what he was hearing. This was Freddie-faithful Freddie.
Freddie Leon with a definite hard-on.
"I'd like that," Lauren said. "Do you get to New York often?"
"Only when it's important," Freddie replied, homing in on her.
"Are you taking Diana?" Nick interjected.
Freddie shot him an annoyed look. "No."
"Who's Diana?" Lauren asked.
"Freddie's wife," Nick replied. "Terrific woman. They've got a couple
of great kids. You should meet the family."
Freddie continued to glare at him. Lauren looked from one to the
other. She knew exactly what was going on and it amused her.
Freddie signed the check, and they got up to leave. "I'll drop Lauren
back at her hotel," he said.
"That's okay," Nick said. "I'll take care of her."
"As a matter of fact," Lauren said, "I'm not going to my hotel. I
thought I'd stop by Neiman's and do some shopping-I never get time in
New York."
"My offices are right there," Freddie said. "Maybe you'd like to come
up and meet some of the other agents."
"Not today. Perhaps next time."
"Yeah, stop hustling her, Freddie," Nick said. "She hasn't signed with
you yet."
"She will. Won't you, Lauren?"
She smiled her dazzling smile. "I'll have to see."
Lauren walked around Neiman Marcus in a daze. She hadn't seen Nick in
seven years, and yet he had this incredible effect on her. She was
still the same stupid wreck.
What kind of hold did he have over her?
What kind of hold did she want him to have?
She sighed. They were both married. It was an impossible situation.
She wandered through the designer collections-tried on a Donna Karan
jacket, picked out a couple of Armanis and charged it all to her
American Express. Shopping was not her thing, but it was better than
going back to her hotel and sitting there until she had to leave for
the airport.
"Hey-" She turned around, startled. It was Nick. "What are you doing
here?" she asked, her heart pounding uncontrollably.
"I'm taking my fucking life in my hands," he said.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't travel anywhere without bodyguards. I'll get mobbed in
here."
She laughed. "Oh, come on, nobody's taking any notice of you.
This is Beverly Hills, they're used to movie stars."
A saleswoman rushed up to him. "Can I have your autograph for my
daughter?" she gushed. "She loves you. She sees every movie you're
in."
He shot Lauren a triumphant look.
"And you're the Marcella girl, aren't you?" the woman continued,
turning to Lauren. "My daughter loves you, too. Oh, this is so
thrilling!"
They both signed the piece of paper she proffered, and then Nick took
Lauren's shopping bags and said, "Let's go, we're getting out of
here.
Walk swiftly and don't make eye contact."
She giggled. "You sound like the CIA."
He took her hand and she found herself beginning to melt.
The valet had his car waiting outside. Nick slipped him a twenty.
"Get in, fasten your seatbelt-we're gonna talk whether you like it or
not."
"I told you," she protested, knowing it was useless. "I have a plane
to catch."
"I'll see that you do."
She got into the passenger seat of his red Ferrari. "I thought a
Cadillac was the car of your dreams," she said, remembering how he used
to talk about it all the time.
"It was-but the dream turned into a nightmare."
"Oh, not so patriotic anymore?"
"You could say that." He revved the engine and zoomed off down the
street.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"To the beach. I have a house there."
"Of course you do," she said dryly.
They didn't talk in the car. He put on a Van Morrison tape and
concentrated on his driving. She stared straight ahead as they sped
down Wilshire on their way to the Pacific Coast Highway.
It took twenty minutes before he made a dangerous left turn into a
winding driveway, pulling up outside a shuttered house. "This is my
retreat," he said. "The only place I get any privacy."
"How do you know your wife's not here?"
"Cause she doesn't know about this house. I bought it without her. I
needed somewhere that's all mine. A place that's not filled with
servants, ringing telephones and people driving me crazy.
"You don't sound too happy," she said, as he helped her from the car.
"Hey-I got a lotta demands in my life, don't you?"
"Yes, but I love every one of them."
"That's because you've turned into a workaholic. Can't pick up a
magazine without seeing you."
"Can't go to the movies without seeing you."
They both began to laugh, breaking the tension.
He pulled out a key, opened the massive door and she entered
paradise.
The house was located on top of a bluff with full-length windows
overlooking the ocean. Perched on the edge of the grounds was an
infinity swimming pool-creating the optical illusion of disappearing
into the sea, even though it was hundreds of feet above it.
"This is absolutely breathtaking," she said, as they strolled
outside.
He placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her toward him.
"You never called me in New York. I sat in that fucking hotel room for
five days waiting."
"I would have, if I'd thought we could be together."
"Why can't we be together?" he said urgently. "Let's cut out the
shit. You know as well as I do it's what we both want."
"Nick, be serious. I'm still married, and now you're married too."
"Are you happy, Lauren?" he asked, staring at her.
"No," she replied, getting lost in his green eyes. "But what's that
got to do with anything?"
"How about this for a plan," he said. "We could both get divorced."
She shook her head. "You make it sound so simple. Life isn't like
that."
"Life's what you make it, Lauren. We've both worked hard, why can't we
be together?"
"Are you suggesting I go home, say, Hey, Oliver, I went to L.A met this
old friend of mine and I've decided to divorce you." You think he'll
accept that? And what about you? What'll
you say to your wife?
Hey-Lauren's back. Goodbye." She's the mother of your child, Nick.
You have responsibilities."
He refused to take no for an answer. "If we really wanted to we could
work it out."
She shook her head again, trying desperately to stay cool. "I don't
know if I want to, Nick. What kind of a life would we have together?
You're this big movie star, and I work all the time. We'd never see