Heartthrob (30 page)

“Talk to me. Please.”

“I’ll tell you what happened, but first you’ve got to promise me you’ll never tell anyone.”

“I promise.”

Jed took a deep breath. “After my brother Tom died, I did a slow spiral downward as far as my drinking went. I was pretty heavily hooked on prescription drugs by that time, and things got really bad. I started missing call times, started phoning in my work until I finally got fired.”

“That’s not a secret,” she told him.

Jed had to laugh. “No kidding. I’m getting to the secret part, all right?”

She nodded.

“I remember thinking, okay, the director—Hank Anton—he couldn’t be serious about this. This was just a scare tactic to get me back in line. Anton wouldn’t really
fire
me, no way. Because, hey, I was Jericho Beaumont, right? Everybody wanted me to be in their movie. So I got sober, and I went back in to work, expecting little more than a scolding. But to my complete shock, Andy Garcia was in my trailer. I’d been replaced by someone more reliable.” He could still taste the complete shock, still see the embarrassed look in Garcia’s eyes. He’d been badly embarrassed
for
Jed.

“I went on a binge that lasted more than two weeks. And one of the last things I did was get into a bar fight.”

Kate was playing with his hair, running her fingers through it in a way that felt too damn good. And every now and then, her gaze lingered on his mouth. Under normal circumstances, he would have taken that as a direct invitation
to kiss her. But there was nothing even remotely normal about any of this.

“Paparazzi were there,” he told her, “and one of ’em got this picture of me in action, beating the crap out of some cowboy I don’t remember for some reason I don’t remember. But I was mad as hell, and it showed in my eyes and on my face—my teeth were bared. It was a really awful picture—I looked completely insane. And the next week, that picture ran on the front page of one of the supermarket tabloids. And my sister Louise called me up. She’d seen it. Seen me. And you know what she said to me?” He paused.

“I really love your hair.”

Jed laughed. “Are you listening to any of this?”

“I can listen and love your hair at the same time. And I can’t guess what your sister said to you, because, really, there’s just too many possibilities. I mean, she could have said, ‘Hi, Jed, this is Louise. Did you watch
Ally McBeal
last night?’ Unless it was a Friday, in which case she might’ve asked if you’d watched
Friends
or—”

“I completely get your point and immediately retract my question.”

“You should probably just tell me what she said. It’ll save time.”

“She said ‘You look just like Daddy.’ ”

“Uh-oh.”

“My heart stopped,” Jed told Kate. “I went down to the store on the corner, and I bought that paper and I looked at that picture, and she was right. That wasn’t me in that photograph. That was my father’s face.

“I went into the bathroom, and I looked into the mirror, and my God, I saw my father looking back at me. With my eyes red and my skin gray, with the pathetic ‘it’s not my fault’ attitude I’d been carrying around since I got fired, I looked exactly like my old man.”

Kate had tears in her eyes again.

“After I finished crying,” Jed said, “I dumped every bottle of booze that I owned into the kitchen sink, and I flushed all of my pills down the john. I packed some of my clothes, and I called David Stern at the Montgomery Rehab Center, and asked him if I could have one of his empty beds.

“And ever since then, I’ve been working really hard to keep my father’s face out of my bathroom mirror.”

Jed took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “Pretty terrible secret, huh?”

“Your voice keeps the bugs and snakes away. Talk to me some more. Tell me another secret.”

“I think it’s your turn to tell me something.” He didn’t stop looking into her eyes, but he was aware of her body, so soft beneath his.

“I’m naked,” Kate said.

Jed laughed. “Yes, ma’am. But I’m afraid that’s not exactly a secret.”

“I do have a secret—I want to make love to you,” she said, still gazing up at him.

Jed nearly choked. “That’s … that’s great,” he said, “but you know what? I think we should wait and see if you still feel the same way tomorrow, okay?”

“But I really liked making love to you, and I want to do it again. Don’t you?” She bit her lower lip, holding it between her teeth as she looked up at him.

“Yes. Yes, I definitely do, but now’s not the right time.”

“Why not?”

“Well, gee, let’s see? How about … because you’re
tripping.
There’s been a whole lot of really crazy things coming out of your mouth tonight, and I’ve got to assume that your wanting to make love with me right now is about as real as one of those snakes you keep thinking you see.”

She moved beneath him, and the weight of his body settled more completely between her legs. Still holding
his gaze, she pressed herself up against him. “Please, Jed?”

“Oh, God, Kate! I’m not really very experienced when it comes to doing the right thing, but I’m trying really hard here.” He rolled off of her, releasing her hands. But that was almost worse, because now he couldn’t help but look at her lying there, all that beautiful, smooth skin just begging to be touched.

She stretched, and he forced himself to look away. “I’m very warm—I’d like to go out in the rain again.” She frowned. “Except I didn’t like the things in the grass. Do you think we could have it rain in here?”

Jed gave up and let himself look at her. God, she was perfect. “I think we could, but then we’d probably get into a lot of trouble for tearing a hole in the roof of the trailer.”

Kate smiled, turning toward him and lacing her arms around his neck. “I think I love you.”

Jed’s heart was in his throat. Truth or snake? “That’s … very nice.” She snuggled closer, and he put his arms around her. It was a reflex, but once his arms were there, he didn’t want to let her go. Her skin was so soft beneath his fingers.

“Are you sure we can’t go out in the rain again?” she asked.

“Yeah, if you really want to, I’ll carry you. You don’t have to worry about the grass.” He’d do anything to get them out of this bedroom—even go stand in the pouring rain.

“You’d do that for me?”

“Your wish is my command.”

“In that case, I wish that you would make love—”

“Rain, yes. Sex, no.” Jed swung her up and into his arms. “Stop driving me nuts.”

Kate was hot. Hot and sweaty and thirsty, and in the snake room of the Sarasota Jungle Gardens—a nature park her parents had taken her to during vacations in Florida, back when she was a child. The snake room was
always hot and smelled faintly, evilly reptilian, even though the snakes were kept securely behind glass.

There was something inherently sinister about creatures who could move without any legs or feet. Kate had always been fascinated by this part of the museum, particularly the snakes whose labels read “Danger: Extremely Poisonous.”

She gazed through the glass at one of them now. A cottonmouth—native to the South. It slid toward the glass, toward her, its entire body rippling and rolling seductively, its beady little eyes watching her unblinkingly.

And then it lunged, striking out at her, white mouth opened obscenely wide, fangs dripping venom.

The glass broke, shattering as easily as if it were sugar candy, and the cottonmouth seemed to fly toward her face.

Kate jerked wildly back, the sudden movement pulling her from her dream and leaving her gasping, heart pounding—and staring directly into Jericho’s green eyes.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice raspy from sleep.

He was holding her, his arms tightly around her. Kate looked past him, up at the ceiling, around at the room, which was dimly lit by the hazy light coming in from behind the window shades. Jericho’s room. She was in Jericho’s room. In Jericho’s bed. And she was …

Dear mother of God, she was naked.

She reached down, wildly searching for the sheet, and Jericho was there, helping her pull it up, helping her cover herself.

“Do you remember any of last night?” he asked quietly. “Do you remember drinking the iced tea?”

Iced tea
 …

She turned to look back into his eyes as it all came crashing back. LSD in the sugar cubes. The walls undulating like belly dancers’ stomachs. Jed beside her, always beside her, promising her he’d stay with her, carrying her so she wouldn’t have to walk on a floor covered with snakes, talking to her nonstop to keep the demons at bay.

His voice wasn’t raspy—it was flat-out hoarse because he’d talked to her all night long.

She remembered taking off her clothes—remembered that awful sensation of ants crawling all over her body.

And she remembered begging him to make love to her again.

Rain, yes. Sex, no.

He still had his shorts on.

“Kate?” There was real concern in his eyes. “Are you okay? Are you back with me? Say something—you’re scaring me a little here.”

“I was wrong about you,” she whispered. “You
are
my friend.”

He’d taken an impossible situation—a situation where she was made completely vulnerable in every possible way—and he’d made himself vulnerable in return. That story he’d told her about hitting bottom … He’d purposely shared with her one of his darkest moments, because somehow he knew this morning would dawn. Somehow he knew that after the night was over, Kate would feel even more vulnerable by the memories of all he’d seen, all she’d said and done.

This way, she wasn’t the only one who’d bared her soul—and a whole lot more—last night. He looked exhausted, his eyes rimmed with red, fatigue lining his face.

Last night she’d told him she thought she loved him. This morning, she didn’t just think it. She felt her eyes fill with tears. “I was so wrong about you.”

“You may not have been that wrong,” he admitted. “I’m kind of … still stumbling around in the dark, trying to figure out exactly who’s looking back at me from the bathroom mirror.”

She ran her fingers through his beautiful long hair, pushing it back behind his ear. “Not your father.”

“Uh-oh, you remember that, huh?” He shifted so that he was lying down next to her, propping his head up with
one hand, leaning on his elbow. He looked as bone-weary as she felt.

“I remember everything,” she admitted.

“An Oscar for each breast?”

Kate laughed in surprise, and her tears overflowed. She wasn’t sad—she was just so emotional. “Did I really say that?”

“You sure did.”

“Oh, my God, I told you I wrote the script, didn’t I?”

He gently touched her cheek. “I won’t tell. I promise. Although it’s so damn good, I can’t figure out why you don’t want everyone to know.”

“Victor wouldn’t have even read it if he knew I wrote it. I’m not supposed to be able to write well, because of the boobs-to-brain ratio, remember?”

“If you told him the truth, Victor might have a better understanding of why you don’t want to change the ending,” Jed pointed out. “He doesn’t realize that it’s
your
story.”

“I think it’s more likely he’d call William Goldman and order a complete page-one rewrite.” Kate rolled her eyes. “No, Victor’s better off thinking Nick Chadler wrote it. I’m going to keep it like that for now.”

“Who’s Nick Chadler?”

“A friend of mine. A manager from my Natick, Massachusetts, store. Whenever Victor wants to meet him, I tell him he’s out of the country—I say that Nick’ll fax whatever changes Victor wants. Then I make the revisions, fax ’em to Nick, who faxes ’em back.”

His eyes searched her face. “That’s one hell of a lie for a nice girl like you.”

Kate felt herself go very still. She wasn’t any kind of a nice girl, and he knew it now, too. Last night, she’d told him about those awful two weeks before she’d left Victor, left California. Oh, God, she’d actually told him about that
nameless, nearly faceless boom operator she’d had a one-night stand with on the bench seat of his truck.

Jed was watching her, and he knew exactly what she was thinking. “Nothing you told me last night will ever leave this room.”

“I’m so ashamed of what I did.”

“You were drunk.”

“Being drunk is no excuse—you’ve said so yourself.” She closed her eyes. “God, it’s been seven years, and it still makes me feel sick.”

“There you go,” Jed said. “Proof you’re a nice girl. It’s when you don’t care—that’s when you have to worry.”

“It’s just … It’s the most awful thing I’ve ever done. I broke my marriage vows. The fact that Victor was cheating on me was no excuse, either.”

“Everybody’s done something they’re ashamed of. Hell, my list’s a mile long, but there’s one thing that tops it.” He lay back on the bed, hands propped behind his head, elbows out as he gazed up at the ceiling. “You know my brother Tom died of AIDS, right?”

She nodded, turning slightly to look at him. “Yes.”

“He was sick for a long time, but when he finally died, I wasn’t with him,” Jed told her quietly. “I hadn’t been to see him or even returned his calls for over two months, and I will regret that until the day I die.”

“Were you busy making a movie?”

“No. I mean, yeah, I probably was, but it was out in L.A. I could’ve taken a few days to go up to San Francisco. But I didn’t.” He turned and looked at her. “I knew Tom was dying. He’d had AIDS for four years. He was my best friend—he and his lover, Ian, and all his other friends were the closest thing to a real family that I’d ever known. But, see, they were all gay. Blatantly, openly, flamboyantly out.

“And one day, I was being interviewed for some magazine, and the reporter asked how I’d pulled off getting all
these real macho Hollywood roles, since I was so obviously homosexual. At first I just laughed, but he was serious. And when I told him I wasn’t gay, he told me he knew I was lying—he had proof that I was. And he showed me some photos of me with Tom and his friends. So I explained. I told him this was my brother, and my brother was gay. All these guys were gay, sure—not that you could particularly tell that from the photos—but they were my friends. I told him it was possible for me to be straight and be friends with men who were gay—which seemed a pretty basic, easy to understand concept to me. But the reporter didn’t believe me—and neither did the producer of
Kill Zone.
”