Authors: Jean Joachim
* * * *
At first, Grace tiptoed around the place,
afraid to put something in the wrong spot or to leave her things lying around. Scared
if she did something wrong, Jake would ask her to leave. But every night he
slung his arm around her as they walked home, planning their late night meal,
he was full of smiles and laughter. In fact, Grace had never seen him more
cheerful.
Her grins never stopped. Small
day-to-day annoyances didn’t bother her. She’d even forgotten about Gunther
Quill.
This is the life I’m meant to
lead.
After two weeks, she moved around
the apartment as if she belonged there. She learned the kitchen quickly and
made some changes to suit her style. She did most of the cooking, though Jake
made a mean French toast on his day off. He did the dishes, vacuumed, and
changed the sheets. Grace cleaned the bathroom.
During the day, she worked on a new
screenplay while he was at singing lessons and dance classes. “I need to be
ready for anything. A great musical might come my way.” Jake’s new
determination to master all aspects of his craft impressed her.
After Grace’s glowing review, he got
a call from Skip, now his agent too, that a few producers and directors had
inquired about him. Jake received a few scripts from Skip, which he shared with
Grace. They read them together, snuggled up on the sofa like two puppies, and then
compared notes.
The iciness of winter began to melt
in April as white snow drops and lavender crocuses, courageous early flowers,
bloomed in New York City. Grace dragged Jake to Central Park for long walks.
Bright yellow daffodils were up and ready to burst. Hints of yellow dotted
fenced-in fields where forsythia, a few
daffs
, and
jonquils received enough sun to blossom.
She led him to the spots where there
were the most flowers blooming. The brilliant, new colors refreshed her spirit.
They held hands and soon Jake shared her enthusiasm for exploring deeper and
deeper in Central Park. It became a place where they could be alone together
with nature, listening to bird songs and being in love. A place beyond the
prying eyes of the press.
He bought her a romantic lunch at The
Boathouse, where they huddled together at a table by the window, sipping
coffee. Grace pulled her fleece jacket around her shoulders to ward off the
chill seeping through the worn seams of the old windows.
“I love this place,” Jake said,
glancing around.
“The lake is beautiful, even when
it’s still cold outside.”
He laced his fingers with hers.
“You’re beautiful, too.” Grace looked down and smiled.
He’s so sweet.
They sat holding hands for another half hour before
they returned home.
However, not all days were sunshine
and sweetness, sometimes they argued.
“Where’d you put the laundry soap?”
A crease formed between his brows.
“Here,” Gracie said, opening the
pantry door and pointing to a container next to the laundry basket.
“I always keep it in the lower
cabinet. I spent all morning looking for it! Now it’s too late to do laundry
before I have to go to the theater!”
“Next to the laundry basket makes
more sense than that cabinet.”
“But that’s where it always was!”
“If you don’t want me here, I’ll
just…”
“I didn’t
say
I didn’t want you here. I said I wanted the laundry detergent
in the cabinet.”
“Fine!” Grace shouted as she slammed
the cabinet door after she replaced the detergent.
“Don’t slam that. You might break
it!” He hollered back.
“Then close it yourself!” She walked
away in a huff.
This living together sucks
sometimes.
Evenings were always good. They made
love almost every night. Then they curled up together cuddling and snuggling
until daybreak. In the morning, she hated to leave the toasty bed and the warm
body of her lover. Jake was affectionate, hugging, kissing, and touching her
often. She relaxed and grew confident under the warmth of his love.
Once the contract with Max Webster was
signed, and a script doctor was hired, Grace’s Eden was about to end. The time
for her to go had arrived. She hesitated telling Jake, delaying until after the
show. The air was still chilly in mid-April. They were walking home
hand-in-hand when she figured the time was right.
“Max found a script doctor for my
screenplay.”
“Oh?” Jake stopped and turned toward
her.
“They want me there in a week.”
“You’re leaving?”
She nodded. “We knew this day would
come.”
“I suppose. Guess I’d hoped
something would hold things up.”
“Like maybe not making the movie?”
“I’d never wish that…a delay…something.
Hope against hope.” His face clouded over.
“I hate to leave.” Grace looked away
from him so he couldn’t see the glint of tears in her eyes.
He hates it when women cry.
“Do you?” He stopped, grabbing her
arms, forcing her to face him. She nodded as emotion trapped her words in her
throat. He tipped her chin up so she couldn’t avoid his stare. “Are you
crying?”
“I know how you hate crying women.”
“Yeah. It tears me up. But if you
wanna
cry…”
She shook her head. “I’m happy to
make this dream a reality…but I hate leaving you.”
He blew out a breath. “Truth.”
Grace hugged him around the waist,
burying her face in his jacket. Tears flowed. A muffled “I love you” stole from
her mouth. Jake closed his arms around her, holding her close.
“I love you, too, Gracie.” He rested
his chin on her head.
“Hey, buddy, get a room!” A man shot
at them as he walked by.
Jake chuckled. “Yeah. We have a
room. Let’s go home,” He separated from her and took her hand.
Home?
I love the sound of that.
He tossed her his handkerchief as they continued
up the avenue.
By the time they reached his
building, she had dried her tears. As they climbed the stairs of the
brownstone, Jake brought up the topic again. “How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know. We have to fix the
script, then casting. I don’t know when shooting’s scheduled…maybe months.”
“Months? Like two, four? I can
handle that. As long as it isn’t years.”
“Years? No way!” She shook her head.
“Can you handle it, Gracie? You’ll
be working with guys. Sets can be seductive.”
“You know all about that, right?”
Jake blushed. “Never said I was an
angel.”
“Wouldn’t have believed you if you
had,” she snickered.
“Oh?” He tackled her around the
waist and threw her down underneath him on the sofa. His mouth closed down on
hers, possessing her. She softened against him, molding her body to his. When
he came up for air, he stared at her. She saw questions, lust, and concern in
his liquid gold eyes.
“What?”
“How many nights before you go?” he
asked.
“Seven.”
He ripped his T-shirt over his head.
“Why are we wasting time?” Only a few minutes passed before the lovers had
stripped down and were entwined in each other’s arms. Grace pushed thoughts of
her departure out of her head and focused on Jake. Happiness bubbled up in her
chest as passion took over.
In her heart, appreciation for what
she had warred with the greediness of wanting more. She tried to appear
grateful but couldn’t deny the empty feeling in her chest when she thought of
leaving Jake. The price she was paying to have her dream weighed heavily on
her.
Grace kept her spirits up, focusing
on the positive as often as possible without sounding silly or unrealistic.
Doubt about the survival of their relationship never left the back of her mind,
though she refused to dwell on it and spoil their last few days together.
On her last day, Grace tried to slow
life down, to remember every second, every thought, every word. Bobby was
driving her to the airport, and Cara, Grant and Sarah were coming to see her
off. Jake stood next to her as Bobby loaded her suitcases in the limo.
“Remember our deal,” he whispered.
“Faithful for four months.”
“Right. And after that?”
“If tempted, call.” Grace drew
closer to him.
“Right. Good, baby.” He wound his
arms around her.
She raised her chin, and he captured
her mouth in a greedy kiss. It wasn’t long before Bobby and Grant were making
noises, so the lovers split.
“Hey, guys, last one for a while.” Then
everyone else kissed Grace, who burst into tears when Sarah started to cry.
Bobby opened the back door. “If you
don’t get in the car and go, there’ll be a flood,” he said. Grace slid inside and
raised her hand to the window. Jake stood up against the car.
“I love you, Gracie. Don’t ever
forget that!”
“I won’t.” Bobby threw the car in
gear, and they moved into the avenue and picked up speed, heading uptown.
Gracie remained twisted around, looking out the back window until she couldn’t
see them anymore. Heaviness settled in her chest.
“If it’s meant to be, it’ll last,
Gracie.”
“I hope you’re right.” The ache in
her chest pounded harder. “Right now it hurts like hell.”
“I get it. Peg and I were separated,
too.”
“How?”
“I was in the service. But we made
it.”
“Were there rough times?”
“Is the sky blue?” He chuckled. “If
you love each other…”
“We do. At least I think we do.”
“Then it’ll survive.”
“Why does it hurt so much?”
“Can’t have love without pain,”
Bobby said as he eased them onto the highway.
She sat back against the leather
seat and trained her unseeing gaze out the window. Memories of her last week
with Jake flooded her mind.
This must be
what Cara and Grant had. How did they do it? Guess if they can last seven
years, I can last a few months.
When they reached the airport, Bobby
put her luggage in the hands of the skycap then hugged her. “Good luck, kid.
This is a tough business. Don’t let them get to you. Make yourself heard. And
keep a light burning for Jake. He’s a good guy.”
She nodded. “I’ll try, Bobby. Thanks
for everything.”
When he drove away, a wave of
loneliness washed over Gracie. Now she was truly on her own.
Isn’t this what I wanted? What I wished for?
My chance? Can I cut it? I’ll find out.
She took a deep breath and walked
through the doors, heading for her gate.
Chapter Twelve
Grace clicked open the lock and went
into the big house on Benedict Canyon Drive.
Everything looks the same. But nothing is the same. I’m not the same.
She
smiled as she dragged her heavy suitcases into her bedroom.
Cara had to load me up with new clothes for
this venture. Now I can barely lift this!
She turned up the heater on the pool
then whipped out her cell to call Jake.
Oops!
He’s on stage!
She put it away and unpacked. Then she checked the house and
called the security company to tell them she was there and would be staying.
Grace kicked off her shoes and
padded into the kitchen to make a grocery list. After swishing her toes in the pool
to determine if the water was warm enough, she stripped off her clothes and
dove in.
Swimming alone. Against Cara’s
rules. I can handle it.
Grace swam laps for twenty minutes.
She climbed out, exhausted. Barely able to drag herself into the shower, she
washed the chlorine off her body and fell into bed. Sleep engulfed her, driving
all worries from her mind.
The next morning, she was up early and
ready to rock. Dressed in linen pants and jacket plus a bright turquoise scoop
neck, silk blouse, she headed out the door. When she turned on the SUV,
butterflies invaded her stomach.
My first
script conference! It’s really happening. S
he typed the address of the
office in the GPS, took a deep breath, and put the car in gear.
On the third floor of a modern low-rise
office building just off Hollywood Boulevard, a pretty receptionist showed
Grace into a swanky conference room. Off-white walls set off the huge mahogany
table with a dozen comfortable swivel chairs hugging the edge. A nondescript, industrial
rug in beige ran from wall to wall. Modern paintings with bright colors cheered
up the cold room.
She was the first to arrive, so she
pulled out a hard copy of the screenplay, a pen and notebook, leaving her
laptop in its case. When the door opened, Grace turned to face a young man,
about twenty-six, not tall, nice looking, with brown hair and eyes.
He extended his hand. “Hi. I’m
George Carpenter. Max Webster hired me to work with you.”
“Is he coming?”
“He’s in New York. He doesn’t
usually get involved in script work at this stage unless there’s a problem.”
Grace shook his hand and smiled.
“Have you read the script?”
“I liked it very much. Great story,
but the dialogue needs a little work.”
“That’s all?” She raised her
eyebrows.
“Not really. We might have to
shuffle a few scenes…writers don’t usually like to hear about a ton of changes
on their work right away. So I like to start small.”
Grace laughed. “Give it to me
straight, George. I can take it.”
He turned on his computer, and they
put their heads together for the next three hours. Grace tried to listen with
an open mind.
How much do I let him
change, and how much do I take a stand on keeping?
George was pleasant but
insistent on some changes, and Grace’s stomach did flip flops as she tried to
figure out how to handle him.
When do I
put my foot down?
At noon, he invited Grace to lunch. “Come
on. My treat. You’ve been really good about stuff. Time for a reward. I know a
great little seafood restaurant in Long Beach. Do you like seafood?”
She climbed into his Corvette, and they
drove to a cute restaurant called Fisherman’s Cove. The head waiter showed them
to a secluded table in an empty room. He gave George a knowing look, palmed the
twenty buck tip, and left them alone. Grace slid into the booth and was
surprised when George moved in next to her.
“Max didn’t tell me you were
so…lovely,” he practically purred, as his gaze settled on her chest.
Grace unfolded her napkin as a knot
formed in her stomach.
Please, God, not
down this road again.
She picked up a menu. “What’s good here? I’m
starved.”
“How about a drink first? They make
a mean Cosmo.”
“No alcohol when I’m working. Do you
drink and work?”
“Hey, this is L.A., everyone does.”
“Not me.” She forced herself to look
over the food choices.
Good move, Gracie.
No alcohol.
She could feel heat from his thigh, pressing against hers. She
tried inching away to the other side, but she was flush up against the wall.
After taking a breath, she worked up her courage. “Would you mind moving to the
right? I’m feeling a little crowded.”
George lifted his eyebrows but moved
a few inches away, breaking physical contact.
“The cold shrimp salad looks divine.
And a mint iced tea works for me.”
“Mint tea? Really?”
She nodded. The waiter approached,
and George placed their order. He ordered a Cosmo and a steak for himself. The drinks
arrived quickly.
Grace silently prayed the food
service would be fast.
“Tell me about yourself, Grace.
You’re Cara Brewster’s sister, right?”
“I am. Not much to tell. This is my
first screenplay.”
“I figured,” George chuckled.
Heat traveled into Grace’s cheeks at
his comment. “I’m a hard worker, and I take direction well.”
“That’s what Gunther said.”
At the sound of Gunther Quill’s
name, she stiffened.
Why did he mention
Gunther? He’s not producing this movie.
Grace took a gulp of her tea to
bide time while figuring out what to do.
Get
the facts.
“Gunther Quill?” she asked.
“Said he knows you…quite well.”
“We’ve met.”
George laughed, and Grace’s pulse
vibrated in her neck while her stomach squeezed.
Oh my God! Gunther told him!
Tears pricked at the back of her eyes,
but she was determined not to give in.
No
crying. Grow up!
“Have you ever collaborated on a
script before?” She shook her head. “Well, collaboration goes much better,
smoother, and the end result is way better if the people writing together…uh…get
together in a more personal way, too.”
Shit!
He’s propositioning me! Damn you, Gunther Quill! Bastard!
“What?” She
raised her eyebrows and feigned an innocent look.
“You’re very beautiful, Grace. We
could have a lot of fun while we work on this script, if you’ll simply…” The waiter
appeared with their food, interrupting George.
Anger bubbled up inside Grace until
she thought she’d explode, right in the restaurant. Her lips compressed into a
thin line, she tried to smile at the server but couldn’t.
Take it easy. Don’t kill George. Stand up for yourself. You’re the
screenwriter.
The salad looked beautiful, but her appetite had gone south. “If
you’re suggesting I sleep with you to get the script done, forget it. Never. No
way.”
“I’m disappointed. Gunther told me—”
“I don’t care what Gunther told you.
He’s a liar. I’m in a relationship, and even if I weren’t, I’d never sleep with
a colleague to get the job done. I’m not a hooker or a whore, George, and I
resent your insinuations that I am.”
George raised his palms to her.
“Well, excuse me! Sorry. Gunther told me you were ripe for…game for…a good
time. Guess I got it wrong.”
“You sure did.” Hunger broke through
her ire. A smile of satisfaction tugged at her lips. To cover her triumph,
Grace tore into the shrimp salad.
Hah!
Spoke up! Take that, you
asshat
creep.
They ate in silence for a while. “If
you change your mind…” he began, slicing off a piece of steak.
“What would Max Webster say if he
knew you propositioned me?”
“I assume Max is a sophisticated guy
who knows how these things—”
“Max is a devoted family man. I
don’t think he’d like it at all.”
His face grew several shades paler. “You’re
not going to tell him, are you?”
“Give me one good reason…”
“I need this job.”
“Yeah? And I need a great
screenplay. If you got where you are by sleeping with people, maybe you can’t
deliver.”
“Oh, I can. I’m good. I’m very good.
Have you seen a list of my credits?”
“Perhaps Max should’ve let me
interview you before he hired you. I might have to tell him you won’t do.” She
stared at him.
He began to sweat. “Please. I’m
sorry. I won’t do that again.”
“And see that you stop spreading
ugly rumors about me started by Gunther Quill.”
“I will. I promise. My lips are
sealed. Please don’t get me fired.”
“Time will tell. You’d better
produce, George. Or you’ll be replaced, like that!” She snapped her fingers.
They finished lunch with a minimum
of conversation and returned to the conference room. The rest of the day was
spent reading aloud, discussing, arguing, and rearranging scenes. There was no
more talk of sexual collaboration. George was all business.
When Grace returned home with a bag
of groceries, she toed off her shoes and poured herself a glass of wine.
Sitting on the deck by the pool, she checked the time.
Damn! Eight o’clock in New York. Curtain’s up.
After making her dinner, reading the
latest issue of
Celebs ’R Us
and the
LA Times,
she glanced at her watch.
Eleven o’clock in New York!
She dialed
Jake’s number and stretched out on the sofa.
Grace told Jake all about George.
“You told him
no
right?”
“Of course! How can you even ask?”
She bolted upright.
“Just making sure.”
“Faithful to you all the way.
Besides, I don’t do hook-ups. And George is definitely not my type…sleazy
scumbag.”
“If I was there, I’d punch him out.
Bastard. Making a pass at my girl.” She heard the anger in his voice.
“I handled him. In the afternoon, he
was all business.”
“I’m proud of you.”
A broad smile spread across her
face. “Really?”
“You’re standing up for yourself, as
you should.”
“How was the show?”
“Fine. Good audience tonight. They
got the jokes. What are you wearing?”
She quickly disrobed. “Uh…nothing?”
“Really?”
“Yep.” She could hear his breath
catch for a second.
“I can picture that. Hell, yeah. I
can see you.”
“What about you?”
“Boxers.”
“Take ’
em
off.”
“Aye, aye, captain.” She heard him
put the phone down. “Naked here.”
“Good. That’s the way I like you.”
“Hey, that’s my line.”
Grace laughed.
“I wish you were here, Gracie. Miss
you so much.”
“Miss you, too.”
“Work hard. Finish your script and
come home to me.”
Home,
the way he says it. Sounds so wonderful.
“I will,” she whispered. “Love
you, Jake.”
“Love you back…more,” he said. They
both kissed into the mouthpiece and hung up.
Grace sighed as the ache in her
heart pounded. “Work hard? I will, Jake. I will.” She dragged herself to the
bedroom and slipped under the sheet. Sleep came quickly.
* * * *
Once Grant’s divorce was final, Cara
set the date for their wedding. June fifteenth was reserved at Limoges. Grace
found herself on the phone daily with Cara to discuss the menu, guest list, and
what she should wear. The two sisters spoke so often, sometimes Grace had a
hard time focusing on her script. But George cracked the whip and together they
hammered out a workable screenplay that Max gave his approval to by the end of
May.
Poised to call Jake and tell him she
was coming back, her phone rang. She glanced at the display. It said Max
Webster.
“Hi, Max. What’s up?”
“Great job with George on the
screenplay. Still have a couple of bumps, but we can work with the director on
those.”
“Good. Can I come back to New York
now?”
“Not yet. I’m coming out there for
casting meetings. We want you to be in on the process, Grace.”
“How long will that take?”
“Couple of months, tops. If we’re
lucky. Negotiations and scheduling can be tricky.”
Grace heaved a sigh.
“Something wrong, Gracie?”
“I was planning to return to the city.
See Jake, Cara…”
“We’re giving you some time off for
Cara’s wedding. Isn’t that enough?”
“I guess.”
“Don’t you want to be involved in
this?” She heard the note of irritation in his voice.
“Of course. Of course, I do. Max,
please. This comes first. I get that.”
“Good. Don’t forget it.”
“I won’t. How much time for the
wedding?”
“Figure two weeks should be enough.”
“So when can I leave?”
“Hmm…I believe I have you booked on
a flight at three this afternoon. It’s eleven now, better hurry.”
“Max! You’re a doll! Thank you!” She
heard him chuckle before she hung up. There was no time to call Jake.
I’ll surprise him!
She laughed as she
threw clothes into her suitcase.
Won’t
Cara be pleased?
The flight seemed to take longer
than usual. Grace squirmed in her seat, unable to sit still. Max had booked her
first class.
Better not get used to this.
She drank champagne instead of napping. Word puzzles, books, magazines,
newspapers—nothing held her attention for long. Goddard Towns, a well-known
character actor, sat next to her, and his banter kept her entertained until
they touched down.
Grace checked her watch.
Eleven forty-five
.
Go right to the apartment.
Grace patted her pocket as the cab
wended its way through the New York City highways on route to the Upper West
Side. She found her key and sat back, smiling, watching the sky light up as the
nightlife shifted into high gear.
How
surprised Jake is going to be!