A PORTRAIT OF OLIVIA (23 page)

“Come on in, Anthony,” Peter said, giving him a hug. “See you later, Eric.”

Anthony watched as Eric ran across the street. “He must think I’m such a jerk…”

“Believe me, he doesn’t.” Peter turned the ‘Open’ sign around so that it read

‘Closed for Lunch’ then he took Anthony’s arm and led him through to the studio. “He knows you’re upset and not into a lot of ‘Hail fellow, well met’—right now. Here, sit down and relax.”

Anthony’s face was bleak with despair. “You saw the newspapers?

“Yes. It must have been quite a show.”

“I just can’t believe she’d do something that incredibly stupid.” Anthony’s eyes brimmed with tears as he looked up at Peter. “I mean, what the hell did
J.P. Bowie

144

she think was going to happen when she publicly admitted writing those letters and tried to knock Olivia Winters into the middle of next week? God, if it weren’t so tragic—it would be hilarious. I’ll bet there are going to be people in hysterics when the show airs—all of them laughing at my mother behaving like some…some…
lunatic
.”

“Have you spoken to her?”

“Yes, believe it or not. I called this morning and she actually picked up the phone. I told her I was on my way down to Laguna and I could come by and see her. She hadn’t read the newspaper so I had to break the news to her that she was on the front page—looking like some harpy from hell, with security guards restraining her. God, she went ballistic, Peter. I said I wanted to see her and she screamed at me to stay away—that it was all my fault and Emily’s and Paula’s…”

“And everyone but her own,” Peter murmured.

“Oh, what she said about Justin…” The tears were streaming down his face now. “My own mother saying things I would never have believed possible, Peter. Vile, cruel things…about how he had the Devil’s penis and had infected me with a poison I would never be free of—that we would all die from AIDS, because God had willed it—and how she had prayed that Justin would die first so that I would know what it was like to be alone.”

“My God.” Peter knelt and took Anthony into his arms. His mind was reel-ing with what Anthony had just told him. In some corner of his mind, Peter had hoped that Patricia would see the damage she had done and would feel some twinge of remorse—perhaps even try to make amends with her family. A futile hope, he now thought, as he held the sobbing young man in his arms.

Things were now worse than they had ever been. Patricia’s madness had taken her to another level of self-pity and vindictiveness. He doubted if there was any way back for her now.

As Anthony’s tears subsided, Peter asked; “How’s Emily handling this?”

“Better than me.” He managed a little smile. “Emily’s made of sterner stuff.

She was upset, of course, but she has so much more on her mind right now.

She’s pregnant again, did you know?”

“No!” Peter grinned at him “That’s wonderful news. You get to be an uncle again.”

“And Emily and Jerry have asked Justin to be godfather…”

“That’s terrific.”

“Can you imagine what my mother would say about that?”

J.P. Bowie

145

“It doesn’t matter what she would say, Anthony. It doesn’t matter what any of those religious loonies would say. What’s important is that your sister and brother-in-law love you and Justin—love and respect you. You are family—we are all part of an extended family really. We’re here for one another when we’re needed. Nothing can take that away.” He smoothed back the hair that had fallen over Anthony’s brow and handed him some Kleenex. “Jeff will be here shortly. Feel like some lunch?”

“I guess…What did he have to say about all this?”

“He was shocked, of course. But he and Nick kind of suspected Patricia had written those letters to Olivia. That part didn’t surprise him. Where’s Justin?”

“He had to work—someone was sick so he couldn’t get away. He’s coming down later and I’m meeting him at Emily’s. We’ll probably stay the night.”

“Good.” Peter regarded his young friend with sympathy. “You guys are just going through way too much stress. Why don’t you consider taking a vacation and getting away from all this?”

“I wish,” Anthony said. “What with my classes and Justin’s job, there just doesn’t seem to be enough time.”

“Well, at least go somewhere for a long weekend. Palm Springs is nice this time of year—not too hot.”

Anthony smiled at him. “We’ll see…Is that someone at the door?”

“That’ll be Jeff, I expect. Let’s go get something to eat.”

Brad Kingman shifted with impatience as he waited for the elevator that would take him to Olivia’s penthouse. He was a lot more nervous of this meeting than he cared to admit. A lot was riding on what he had to say to Olivia. At least, he thought with a smirk, she had agreed to meet with him. Brenda must have scared her just enough.

Brenda—that bitch. She had a lot to lose too, if Olivia decided to disregard his threats. All he wanted was in—back to what they had before. What was the big deal?

He looked round as he heard the click of heels behind him. A tiny, white haired lady was smiling up at him. He nodded then looked away. They stepped into the elevator together. “Which floor?” he asked her.

“Two please,” Winifred replied. “The one below the notorious Miss Olivia Winters…That where you’re headed?”

“Uh huh.” Brad looked at her sideways. “How’d you know that?”

J.P. Bowie

146

“You’re an actor,” she chirped. I’ve seen you on TV—some late night series…”

“Galaxy X,” Brad told her. “The Sci-fi channel. You like sci-fi?”

“Not really—I just thought you were cute.”

Brad laughed. “Thanks.” He held out his hand. “Brad Kingman.”

“Winifred Owen. You heard of me?”

“Can’t say I have? You on TV?”

“Movies—well, I used to be. When you were still in short pants probably.”

She gave him a winsome smile. “Well, this is my floor. When you get tired of her, you can come down and see me sometime.”

Brad was still chuckling when the elevator doors opened revealing the marble foyer outside Olivia’s penthouse. He whistled softly to himself. “Very nice…” He rapped on the door then frowned as it was thrown open by Brenda.

“What are doing here? I told you I wanted to see her alone.”

“She wouldn’t go for it,” Brenda told him. “So you’re stuck with me here too.”

“Where is she?”

“In the bedroom—she’ll be out in a minute.”

Brad walked to the balcony windows and looked out. “Quite a place she’s got here…”

“Why Brad…” Olivia’s voice made him turn away from the view. “What an unpleasant surprise.”

He looked her over with an appraising eye. “You look good Olivia…money agrees with you.”

“And just how much of that do you want?” Olivia stalked to the bar and poured herself a shot of Jack Daniels. “Let’s not waste time with crap—how much do you want?”

Brad’s handsome face creased in a tight smile. “Still the arrogant bitch you always were, I see,” he said with a low derisive laugh. “Get rid of your side-kick.” He jerked a thumb at Brenda. “Then we’ll talk.”

“No way. Brenda stays right here. I’m not going to be alone with you…”

“Don’t trust yourself, huh?” he asked with a smirk. “Maybe you’d like a taste just for old time’s sake.”

“Okay Brad,” Brenda rasped. “That’s enough. Say what you want then hit the road…”

“No, no, no ladies.” Brad walked to the couch and sat down, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “I’m not hitting any road, except Olivia Street.

I’m here for keeps this time. This time, I’m calling the shots.”

J.P. Bowie

147

“You must be on crack!” Olivia yelled. “What makes you think we’d stand for you being around all the time?”

“You mean apart from my natural good looks and charm?” Brad sniggered.

“Well, for starters, how about if I inform your loving public that you and Brenda here a couple of big dykes?”

“I am not a dyke!” Olivia screamed.

“And how about if I show your adoring fans a video of you and Brenda—and a certain masked man—engaging in some very dangerous sexual acts. I fancy it would be an even bigger sensation than Tommy and Pamela’s video.”

“That? You don’t have that anymore. I paid you for that already, you bastard.”

“Yeah, I know—but not nearly enough.” Brad smiled at her. “I tried to be reasonable, Olivia. If you had simply helped me out when I asked you last year if you’d help finance my movie—you know, the one I wrote—sweated blood over for three years. If you’d just been a little more amenable to the whole project, I probably wouldn’t be here now, bugging you like this. Instead, you told me to go to hell, which really wasn’t very nice. Imagine my surprise when I discovered I had another copy of that video…” He looked at the two women with barely concealed mirth. “I just couldn’t believe I had failed to mention I had a spare copy…”

“Why you miserable son-of-a-bitch,” Brenda seethed.

“Oh, come on Brenda,” Brad giggled. “You of all people shouldn’t be mad.

You look like you’re having the time of your life on that tape. I’ve never seen you happier.”

“Stop!” Olivia yelled, her face ashen. “Brad, please don’t do this. Why drag all this up after all these years? I’ll give you the money to have your movie made, if that’s all you want…”

“Well, now…see,” Brad looked at her, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“That’s not all I want, I’m afraid. If you’d been more
reasonable
when I first asked you, that might have been enough…”

“So what else do you want?” Brenda asked.

“Not you, Brenda—not you.” Brad stood up and stretched his long, lean body in an arrogant display of nonchalance. “I want you to marry me, Olivia.

Marry this poor, struggling actor with whom you have fallen madly in love. Go on your show—marvel at my talent—ask why directors haven’t been knocking my door down to hire me—and then tell them that I am about to make you the happiest woman in the world.”

J.P. Bowie

148

“You must be
nuts
,” Brenda exploded.

“Nope, not nuts,” Brad said happily. “And just to prove how much you love me, there will be no pre-nuptial agreement. You and I, Olivia, will be man and wife, till death us do part—with all the benefits that befits a loving couple.”

Olivia sank down onto a barstool and poured herself another drink. Her head was spinning. Marry him? Impossible—she hated him. She’d love him once…Shit! He was still so damned good looking…Yeah, but he had the morals of a snake. She’d never be able to trust him—but she couldn’t let that video go public. It would ruin her for sure. Even if they carried out Brenda’s idea, would they find the second video?
Was
there a second video? Was this all just a bluff? How could she find out? She needed to stall for time. Yeah, that was it—stall for time.

“Okay,” she said, breaking the silence that had fallen on the room. “You win, Brad. But,” she glared at him through narrowed eyes. “I get to see that other copy burned—and any others you just might have lying around.”

Brad’s smile was wary. This had been way too easy, he thought. She was up to something. Aloud, he said; “I knew you’d see it my way, darling. You have to admit Brenda…” He grinned at Olivia’s furious manager. “We’ll make a great looking couple.”

“You’d make a better looking corpse,” Brenda snarled. She glared at Olivia.

“You caved too easy. This moron will ruin you one way or the other. He’s trash, Olivia—pure, unadulterated trash. This is the worst decision you could have made.”

“Now Brenda,” Brad pouted. “I don’t think you should be talking about me like that. In fact, now that I am Olivia Winter’s fiancé, I feel it my duty to protect her from your vicious, slanderous tongue. You’re fired, Brenda—goodbye.”

“Olivia?” Brenda looked at her, outraged. “Tell him he can’t do that.”

Olivia’s eyes slid away from the other woman. For a moment she gazed into the amber liquid in her glass—then she lifted her head and said quietly; “Sorry, Brenda…You’d better go.”

“I don’t
believe
this,” Brenda screeched.

“Believe it,” Brad said. “And beat it.”

Brenda stood for a long moment, looking from one to the other then she turned and lurched toward the door, where she paused and turned again to face them. “Well, you sure deserve one another. Loser and bigger loser…a marriage made in hell. Go fuck yourselves!”

As the door slammed behind her, Brad winked at Olivia. “Well now. Time to celebrate, don’t you think?”

J.P. Bowie

149

Brenda fumed silently as the elevator stopped at a floor she hadn’t expected.

She stared at the little woman who got on alongside her. Jeez, it was that old has-been who thought she was still a star.

“Hi,” Winifred said, punching the basement button.

“Hi, yourself,” Brenda growled.

“I swear my memory is failing me fast,” Winifred chuckled. “I don’t know how many times I have to go back to my car for something I forgot.”

“Fascinating,” Brenda drawled, rolling her eyes.

“You look like you lost a dollar and found fifty cents,” Winifred chuckled.

Brenda looked sharply at the old movie star. “Gee, that’s original,” she snarled.

“My, lady. You really need to chill…Nothin’s ever that bad, you know.”

“What would you know? Fifteen years I’ve given that bitch and now I’m axed.”

“You mean the Dragon Lady canned you?” Winifred was trying not to sound happy. Oh my, she thought. When bitches fall out…

“That’s what I mean, yes. Fired—me—after all I’ve done.” Brenda blinked back her tears.

“There, there, dear.” Winifred patted the other woman’s arm. “Lovers spat, was it?”

“What? Where the hell would you get that idea from?” Brenda glared at her and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “That’s the kind of crap that ruins people’s careers. Lovers spat? What crap!”

“You’re repeating yourself dearie,” Winifred said.

“And you’re enjoying this aren’t you?” Brenda yelled. “You old
has-been
.”

“Better a has-been, than a never-was—like you, dear. At least I never stood in someone else’s shadow.” The elevator doors opened and Winifred skipped out. “Have a nice day, dearie.”