Breaking the Rules (19 page)

‘I know it is, Howard. And it’s not enough. This place is worth a million or two, not thousands. Listen up, I know how much Frank Farantino spent on the renovations of this warehouse.
A million dollars
—much more, to be exact. You’re coming in too low, so the answer is thanks but no thanks. I pass. I double pass.’

‘Maybe my client will come up in price. He owns property all over the world, and he’s anxious to have something like this building here in Manhattan, especially since it’s income producing.’

‘You betcha it is!’ Caresse exclaimed, giving the young lawyer a very pointed look. ‘I’m no pushover, I got advisors,’ she improvised. ‘I know what this property’s really worth, just remember that. Nobody’s gonna steal it.’

Caresse was growing increasingly annoyed with him, convinced he was trying to get the studios for nothing, since he had a funny reputation, was considered a bit of a hustler. ‘Anyway, who
is
this so-called client of yours?’ she now demanded, her voice cold.

‘What do you mean by
so-called
? He
is
my client, and his name’s S. Herbert Samson. As I said, he’s a very important businessman, and you shouldn’t be so hasty, Miss Caresse. You’ll regret it.’

‘I doubt that. And on behalf of my seventeen-year-old co-owner, Frankie’s son, and myself, I’m telling you that your deal is no deal. And you can tell your client that. As for you, Howard, go fly a kite: your offer is an insult.’

He stood up, his face flushed, and answered in an angry tone, ‘You’re being a fool, Caresse. You’ll soon be back to me, and—’

‘Don’t bet on it,’ she interrupted in a sharp tone.

‘I repeat, you’ll be back. Nobody’s going to offer you more, the place is not worth it.’

‘Thanks for those nice words, Howard. Please leave the premises. And don’t come back.’

She watched him as he crossed reception, opened the door and hurried out, in his haste almost knocking M down, who was about to enter the studios. ‘Excuse me,’ he snapped in a curt tone.

Caresse noticed he didn’t even bother to pause. She stared at M and exclaimed, ‘Don’t pay attention to that guy. He’s a real jerk.’

‘Who is he?’ M asked, as she closed the door behind her and walked over to Caresse’s desk, a wide smile on her face.

‘Some two-bit lawyer the real-estate agent sent over, who thinks he can give me a snow job,’ Caresse told her, and grinned. ‘Imagine him trying to do that to
me.
I told him I’m no pushover, and I’m not. Offering me two hundred and fifty thousand for this place, when it’s worth at least a million and a half.’

‘Oh, much more than that, Caresse,’ M said, surprised by this low assessment. Shrugging out of her black wool coat, hanging it in the cupboard, she announced confidently, ‘I’d put the value at somewhere around four to five million.’

‘You gotta be kidding!’ Caresse squealed, gaping at M, obviously astonished and disbelieving, by the look on her face.

‘No, I’m not,’ M answered, sitting down opposite Caresse. ‘Property is at a record high in Manhattan these days, whether it’s commercial real estate like this or residential.’

Caresse was still staring at her, total shock reflected in her eyes. She shook her head and said, ‘Maybe I should go to another, bigger real-estate company, put it on their books. What do you think?’

‘If I were you I would get the Farantino Studios evaluated immediately, and then I would go to a bank, take out a loan to pay operating costs, and run this place yourself.’

‘You’ve gotta be joking, M! What bank would give
me
a loan?’

‘A number of them, in my opinion,’ she answered in a businesslike voice. ‘You could put up the studios as collateral against the loan, and hey, listen! I’ve just had a brilliant idea, Caresse. Why not talk to Luke Hendricks? Maybe he would become a partner with young Alex, put up money himself. How about that?’

Caresse nodded, looking at M with greater interest, remembering how she had always told Frankie that M was smart, and she had been right. She said slowly, in a low, confiding voice, ‘I’ve never told you this, M, but Frankie left me thirty per cent interest in the studios. I also have guardianship of Alex until he’s twenty-one. And he’s cool, you know, he’ll do anything I say—well, within reason, you know what teenagers are.’ She grinned, ran a hand through her spiky red hair, jumped up, went around the desk and hugged M, exclaiming, ‘I haven’t yet told you congratulations! Or even said hello because of that awful jerk. So, how does it feel to be the New Face of Jean-Louis Tremont?’

‘It hasn’t really sunk in yet,’ M answered truthfully, and stood up. ‘I’d love a glass of water, and listen, just show me around
the studios again before we go to lunch. I’d like to get a proper perspective on this place.’

‘Come on then, Miss Supermodel, let’s do it.’

Taking hold of her arm, Caresse led her into the main studio. She was suddenly full of energy, filled with enthusiasm for M’s idea, and anxious to talk to Luke. She hoped he’d agree to this fabulous plan, which was what it had suddenly become in her mind.

A
fter lunch with Caresse in the MePa, M took a cab uptown. Her anxiety about Larry and her need to see him had grown more pressing towards the end of lunch, and she had instantly agreed when Caresse had suggested they skip dessert and coffee.

‘I’ve just got to get back to the studios,’ Caresse had explained. ‘There’s a big shoot this afternoon, and I’m needed.’ And so M had swiftly paid, and they had left, each taking cabs in different directions.

Now, as the driver pushed his way through the heavy traffic, M sat back against the seat, her thoughts turning inward. She couldn’t help wondering what Larry would say when he heard her news. During his first week in Toronto she had spoken to him every day, confided how well the shoot was going; he had sounded genuinely pleased for her. But he knew nothing about the startling and unexpected events of last week, and Kate Morrell’s extensive plans for her, because he had not returned her calls.

Six days of silence.
Far too long, wasn’t it? They were engaged to be married, after all. Her thoughts raced, zeroing in on him.
Had she made a dreadful mistake about Laurence Vaughan? Wasn’t he the man she believed him to be? Was she so influenced by her girlhood crush on him that she had been swept away romantically, caught up in the glamour of him? And finally, very simply, had she misjudged his character? She didn’t believe this was so, and yet his behaviour had been bizarre, even questionable.

Still, he had gone to Canada to investigate a problem for his mother, and maybe that problem had been so overwhelming that it had overshadowed everything else in his head. That was a possibility, she decided, and reminded herself to keep an open mind and not to be judgemental.

She began to think about all the things she had to tell him…that she had to leave for Paris in the middle of December, because Jean-Louis Tremont had to start fitting the clothes on her…that she was about to sign a multimillion-dollar contract with the designer. Unexpectedly it occurred to her that Larry might not want to come to Paris with her…a possible dilemma suddenly loomed.

When M walked into the apartment twenty minutes later she was surprised to hear Larry’s voice coming from the direction of the library. That morning she had left him in bed, looking worn out and damaged, and so she was glad he had felt well enough to get up. After putting her coat in the closet, she went to join him.

As soon as he saw her he murmured goodbye into the phone, and hung up, came to her immediately, a faint smile flickering on his mouth. He was pale and gaunt, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He didn’t look well after all, even though he was dressed and mobile, bundled up in a navy blue tracksuit and a heavy, knitted-wool cardigan of the same colour. Quite
suddenly she was aware, for the first time, that he had lost weight.

Without saying a word he wrapped his arms around her, clung to her. ‘I’m sorry, so very sorry, M. I vowed I would never hurt you in any way, and look what I’ve gone and done. I’ve caused you nothing but heartache these past few days.’

She drew away from him, saw how bloodshot his bright blue eyes were, and answered gently, ‘Please, Larry, don’t keep saying you’re sorry. I accepted your apology this morning and, honestly, I know how contrite you are. What I would like you to do is explain everything from the beginning, if you don’t mind. And from the moment you got to Toronto. If you can do this I think I might be able to understand how you came to be in such a mess, so out of it, when I found you here on Saturday.’

‘I’ll tell you about Toronto. I
want
you to know what happened. Let’s go and sit near the fire.’ Taking hold of her hand he led her towards the fireplace.

Settling herself in the corner of the sofa, leaning against the soft cushions, M fixed her gaze on him. ‘I haven’t even asked you how you’re feeling. Sorry.’

‘Better. My legs are still weak, and my stomach’s sore, but thank God I’m rid of that ghastly headache. It was doing me in. A migraine, actually.’

‘I’m glad, let’s face it…Saturday was something of an ordeal for you.’

He nodded but said nothing.

Taking hold of his hand, squeezing it, she went on in the same low, steady voice. ‘Come on then…tell me about Toronto.’

‘Well, part of it you already know—’

She cut into his sentence, saying swiftly, ‘I want you to start at the beginning please.’

‘Okay, here goes. I thought Dad was perfectly normal when I arrived. He certainly didn’t seem ill or out of sorts, and he wasn’t afraid of the play, as my mother had suggested to me
on the phone. In fact, to be honest, he was relishing the idea of playing the part of Cyrano de Bergerac, especially at his age. He’s seventy, you know. I went to a few rehearsals with him, and I knew at once that he had a good grasp of the part; after all, he’d played it a number of times before. And I was mystified by the worries my mother had expressed during her phone call.’

‘Did you bring that up with him?’

Larry looked at her swiftly, a horrified expression settling on his face. ‘God, no!’ he exclaimed, shaking his head. ‘They’re a bit competitive, those two. He’d be furious if he thought she doubted his talent. I said I’d come to see him because I needed a break, and also wanted to spend some quality time with him. One thing I did notice, though, was that he was irritated Mum was filming and couldn’t join him in Canada. But this aside, he was on an even keel…himself, very normal as far as I was concerned.’ Larry paused, rose, went to the drinks tray and opened a can of Coke. He filled a glass and, looking at M, he asked, ‘Do you want anything, darling?’

‘No thanks.’

Returning to his place next to her on the sofa, Larry took a swallow of the Coke, then said, ‘Then Edward arrived, and sooner than expected. Dad was pleased, because he always loves having his sons around him…he enjoys showing off a bit to us, and always expects us to give him over-the-top accolades. Anyway, I wasn’t well, my teeth were troubling me that weekend, and I missed out on a few meals with them. I finally did get to a dentist on Monday morning, and apparently I had two abscesses, and needed immediate treatment—surgery, actually. The dentist put me on painkillers, and because I was in agony I didn’t pay much attention to them, just took them as instructed, and went about my business…’ Larry stopped, stared off into the distance. Finally he turned to her, and said in a voice that was almost inaudible, ‘Although I didn’t realize it at first, Edward
had set out to make trouble from the moment he arrived. Trouble for me, and perhaps, in a certain way, for Dad as well.’

Larry fell silent again, sat looking reflective, and after a moment, M said, ‘That doesn’t surprise me. In my opinion, your brother is your enemy.’

‘I think you’re probably right,’ Larry agreed. ‘He started to verbally pound me on Monday afternoon, telling me that Dad thought I should share the role with him, do it on alternate days to ease his burdens. And then, that night, Edward dropped a real bombshell on me. He told me that my father believed my mother was having an affair with another man, and that was the reason she hadn’t come to Canada.’

‘But she’s making a film, isn’t she?’ M asserted, her eyes narrowing.

‘Yes, and Edward said Dad’s positive she took the film in order to stay in London. To be with her lover.’

M looked at him askance. ‘Do
you
believe that?’

‘No. But if you really think about it, how would I know? I live in New York; she’s in London. I suppose it could be true. On the other hand, I don’t think infidelity is quite her style.’ He broke off, shaking his head. ‘All I know is that Edward insisted my father believed this, but that I couldn’t, mustn’t broach it with Dad because it had been a confidence between them, not to be repeated to me. However, Edward has always loved to upset me by saying mean things about our mother. He’s always been a bit of a bastard, and he’s jealous of me, of my success as an actor—that I do know.

‘In any case, everything got out of hand after that. The next day I went back to the dentist, and much later, when I returned to the hotel, Edward and Dad were having a terrible row. It was all about Edward’s messy private life: the ex-wives, the live-ins, his kids. And Dad was also
really
furious because Edward had asked for a loan of twenty thousand pounds in order to solve his personal financial mess.

‘I’ll spare you the details, because none of it was pretty. Then Edward turned on me, for no reason at all, said I was a no-talent, spoiled brat and Mum’s favourite; that I hadn’t produced any grandchildren to carry on the great Vaughan theatrical dynasty, whilst he had, and yet he was being punished for it. All his babble genuinely upset Dad, and he became even more enraged when Edward blurted out that I didn’t believe the story about Mum’s so-called affair. Edward announced that I had actually pooh-poohed it. Dad saw this as some kind of betrayal on my part, and told me so in no uncertain terms.’

‘Where was all this happening?’

‘Mostly in Dad’s hotel suite. Dad is a stickler for decorum, so our differences were put to one side when we were in public. But it was pretty bloody awful, and I think Edward was really off the wall last week.’

‘Do you think it was an act? A ruse to get money out of your father, and also to punish you by insulting your mother? And he was setting your father against you, wasn’t he?’ she pointed out.

Larry simply shook his head, looking as puzzled as M.

She then asked, ‘There’s one thing I’m not clear about…did your father ask you to share the role of Cyrano with him?’

‘Not exactly. He vaguely mentioned it when I first got there, said what a wonderful thing it would be for the producers if we did that, two big names, father and son, all that crap; but when I said I wasn’t interested, had to be back in New York for my own work, he just dropped it, laughed, and said he’d only been kidding.’

‘But was he?’ M now gave Larry a penetrating stare, convinced that his father
had
needed help with a difficult part, no matter what
he
believed.

‘I just don’t know,’ Larry eventually responded. ‘But he mentioned the same thing to Edward, and Edward took it seriously, and very much so.’

‘Don’t tell me Edward’s actually sharing the role of Cyrano with your father?’ M sounded astonished, and she couldn’t help marvelling at the duplicity of Larry’s brother.

‘For the next month. Then Edward’s taking it on by himself, and he will play the part until the end of the run. After that one month in the play, sharing the role, Dad will be let out of his contract and he’ll go back to London. Edward will be the star.’

‘And the producers accepted this?’

‘Why not? Don’t forget, Edward’s had the lead in a very successful American television series for years, and now it’s finished it’s gone into re-runs. Listen, it plays in Canada as well as the US and the UK, and Edward’s a big name. Obviously not to be sneezed at, as far as the Canadian producers are concerned. Therefore, no problems.’

‘Edward’s pretty devious, isn’t he?’

Larry grimaced. ‘And then some. As for my father, I do think he was serious when he asked me to share the role, but when I refused he dismissed his offer as a joke, not wanting to appear foolish or needy.’

‘So he does require help with the part. Is that what you’re saying? And that’s why Edward is in the picture?’

‘No, I’m not saying that at all. Dad doesn’t need help with the part, he practically knows it off by heart by now; he’s done it enough times in the past. What he wants is
company.
He’s
lonely,
M. Very much so. You see, he’s used to being surrounded by his family. My mother, Thomas and Horatio in London, and also Portia and her little girl, and his brother Jack, and Jack’s brood, his daughters Eloise and Diana and his son Maximilian. Our uncle and cousins. I’m sure you know that my Uncle Jack and his offspring are actors, and very much a part of our theatrical dynasty, don’t you?’

M nodded. ‘Yes, of course I do, and they’re all marvellous, by the way.’

‘What I’m getting at is that on reflection I do believe my
mother
should have been with him in Canada.’

‘So why did she take the film?’ M asked, a brow lifting.

‘Money. It’s always about money with my parents. They have a big overhead, and Dad’s tried hard for years to put money away for us. I keep telling him to stop, that we can fend for ourselves, but he won’t listen.’

‘Is he going to lend money to Edward?’

‘I don’t know, it never seemed to get resolved when I was there. But I doubt it. Dad simply can’t spare it, I’m sure. I guess they made a deal about the play, though. Edward’s probably getting
all
the money, and Dad’ll take this loss just to get home to Mum.’

‘To find out what’s going on with her?’ M suggested pithily.

‘That as well, yes, but mainly I think he’s motivated by his loneliness. He’s lost when he’s away from our bunch. “His lot”, as he calls us.’

‘I can understand that,’ M murmured. ‘I come from a large family myself.’

Larry sat back, his expression thoughtful, as if he was pondering something. He said, very slowly, in a low voice, ‘The point of that whole story is
this,
M. I was so aggravated and nervous because of the rows, my father’s upset, and Edward’s lousy treatment of me, and in terrible pain with my teeth, I just kept popping pills. Unfortunately, I became hooked on them again.’

M sat up, stared at him blankly, unable to say a word, frowning, wondering what he meant by ‘hooked on them again’? She didn’t dare ask, afraid of the answer. She held herself still, waiting.

Clearing his throat, Larry hurried on: ‘There’s something I must tell you. About five years ago I had pneumonia, and I became addicted to the prescription drugs I was given, especially anything containing codeine. My mother was the first to become
aware of it, and she got me into a rehab clinic in London at once. I had eight weeks of treatment. There were some rumours about me being hooked on pills at the time, but my mother managed to keep the lid on the story. Fortunately, through a great PR woman, the rumour was soon well and truly quashed. I survived with hardly a blemish to my reputation, and went on to do some good work. I won a few awards and stayed clean. And I knew I must never touch prescription drugs ever again.’