If I Can't Have You (35 page)

“Quite impressive.”

Trevor jerked around at the sudden applause behind him. A man in blue jeans and a T-shirt stood just outside Mr. Castle’s door, eyeing him up and down, just as Miss Erickson had done earlier. Trevor swept his hair back and straightened his tie, then stuck his hand out.

“I’m Trevor Montgomery. You must be William Castle.”

‘Trevor Montgomery, huh?” The producer’s eyes narrowed, creases formed in his brow as he studied Trevor’s face. “I don’t know if I buy that line, but I know you’re not Paul
Dorn
. Although, I must say, the resemblance is extraordinary.”

“That’s what people keep telling me. I understand, though, that he’s not much of an actor.”

Mr. Castle grinned. “Let’s just say he won’t be appearing in any of my productions.”

“I’d like to appear in one, although Miss Erickson informs me the role of Trevor Montgomery is already filled.”

“I’m a
lways open to discussion, Mr.
Montgomery.”

“And I’m always willing to listen.”

Mr. Castle peeked around Trevor and addressed his secretary. “Clear my calendar for the next hour or so. I have some negotiating to do.”

oOo

Trevor stood just outside Adriana’s memorabilia shop, fingering the gold doubloon he’d carried in his pocket since the premiere of
Captain Caribe.
He had three dollars left, he needed a place to stay, and he needed to find an agent. Shooting of
Shattered Dreams
was scheduled to start in another week. William Castle had offered him the role of Trevor Montgomery, but he knew full well that he needed an expert to handle all the contractual ins and outs. He hadn’t accepted—not yet.

He’d located Jen hard at work in her office, taken her out for a cup of coffee, and got the names of several agents she said she couldn’t recommend strongly enough, and then he’d found a phone booth and started making calls.

The first two weren’t looking for newcomers. The third, Ron Epstein, was interested and wanted to meet for dinner. Trevor planned to treat, but he needed money first.

Tomorrow, in the light of day, he planned to check out Paul
Dorn
, the impostor and the cause of all his misery. He’d sweet-talked
Dorn
’s address out of pretty Miss Erickson, and he planned to give the man a piece of his mind. But
money was an issue
.

He hated parting with his doubloon; he didn’t even know if it would bring much cash, but considering some of the staggering prices Adriana had paid for old Hollywood props, like two hundred dollars for the insignificant patch he’d worn over his eye in
Captain Caribe,
or ten thousand for an original theater poster from Douglas Fairbanks’s
Robin Hood,
he thought he might stand a chance of being on easy street for a while.

Looking at the memento one more time, he stepped into the memorabilia shop.

A flood of memories came rushing back. The way Adriana had lovingly touched one of his tuxedos when she’d shown him the locked cabinet where she kept what she’d called her most precious belongings. The way she’d stood in front of him and expertly tied his black-silk tie, while the sweet scent of her perfume wafted about him. The way she’d stepped out of her office in that long, shimmering white gown, and how her eyes sparkled when he draped ropes of pearls about her neck. She’d looked young, innocent, and completely beguiling.

She’d mesmerized him the first time he’d seen her, when he thought she was an angel. He’d fallen hopelessly in love with her when he’d held her in his arms and taught her to dance.

He loved her. He had to get her back.

“May I help you?” a woman asked, stepping out of the back room, her arms laden with a stack of what looked like old photo albums.

“I hope so,” Trevor said, and watched the woman’s eyes flick upward when she heard his voice.

She stared at him for the longest time, her eyes narrowed. Suddenly, they widened. “Oh, my!”

“Is there a problem?” he asked, taking hold of the woman’s arm when she dumped the albums and gripped the counter.

“It’s the most amazing thing, but you look exactly like Trevor Montgomery,” she muttered. “When you work in a store like this, your mind has a tendency to step back in time. I thought I might have done it for real.”

“I assure you, you haven’t gone anywhere.”

She took a deep breath, one hand to her chest, as she attempted to regain her composure. “Now,” she said, exhaling, “what is it I can do for you?”

“I understand the owner of this store is highly interested in Trevor Montgomery memorabilia.”

“Most shops are. Of course, it depends on the item.”

Trevor held his palm out and the gold doubloon twinkled in the late afternoon sun shining through the window.
“Jack
Warner gave this to Trevor Montgomery at the premiere of
Captain Caribe.”

She laughed lightly. “Yes, I’ve seen a few just like it over the years. Fakes, every single one.”

That was something he hadn’t expected to hear. “I assure you, this one’s real.”

“I suppose you’re the real thing, too. Trevor Montgomery come back to life?”

Trevor shook his head slowly. “Close. I’m Trevor Montgomery’s son,” he told her, sticking with the story he’d used with Stewart and then again with Mr. Castle, Miss Erickson, and with Jen. “My father carried this doubloon around with him everywhere.”

She looked at him skeptically. Slowly her expression softened into a smile. “May I take a look?” she asked.

Trevor took the coin between his index finger and thumb, held it up to the light until it sparkled, then deposited it in her hand.

“The profile on the front is of my father in his most famous role,” he told her.
“Captain Caribe
is inscribed at the top, the premiere date is at the bottom, and if you’ll turn it over, you’ll see Jack Warner’s thank-you to Trevor Montgomery.”

“It’s a very interesting piece. May I ask where you got it?”

“From my father, as I already told you. It was in the pocket of a pair of tuxedo trousers.”

“I believe we might want to purchase this from you, but I’ll have to discuss it with the owner. Is
there any possibility of my holding on to it for a day or two?”

A day or two?
He needed the money now.

She must have sensed his thoughts. “I could give you a deposit of, say, five hundred until we can determine its value and whether or not we want to make the purchase.”

“I believe five hundred will be fine.”

“Let me just fill out some paperwork, sir.” She set the doubloon on the counter and pulled a form from underneath. “Now, what did you say your name is?”

“Trevor Montgomery.”

She shook her head, obviously still not believing his story, but wrote the name on a sheet of paper.

“And your address?”

“The bus depot. Locker number 372.”

Her brows furrowed together in a much deeper frown than before.

Trevor winked at her. “I’m a little short of funds at the moment, but this advance should change my circumstances a bit.”

She lowered her pencil. “Maybe I’m being too hasty.”

“It’s the genuine thing,” Trevor insisted. “I’m sure another dealer would be happy to buy it”

“Well,” she sighed in frustration, tapping her finger on the counter next to the doubloon. Her eyes flickered up to Trevor, back to the doubloon, then toward Trevor again. “I’m sure Ms. Howard will be interested in seeing this. Since you don’t have an address...”

“I’ll be back day after tomorrow to see how much your boss is willing to give me for the piece.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her.”

“Would you give her a message, too?”

“And what’s that, Mr. Montgomery?”

“Tell her if she’ll watch
Captain Car
i
be
very closely,
there’s a scene where he’s taking off his boots. Ask her to take a look at his ankles and see if she notices anything odd.”

oOo

Adriana flipped through book after book, studying the photos of Trevor Montgomery. She touched the cleft in his chin, the dimple to the right of his mouth, and remembered how a real cleft and a real dimple felt.

Did it matter that he wasn’t really Trevor Montgomery? She’d fallen in love with the man who’d been in her house, in her arms, in her bed. She’d fallen in love with a man who’d fed her rich cheesy omelets and her very first Big Mac, a man who’d licked butter f
rom her lips and salt from her f
ingers.

She’d fallen in love with a man whose eyes and smile mesmerized her, devoured her.

She hadn’t fallen in love with the man on the screen. She’d idolized a myth-—nothing more.

A tear fell from her eye and dropped just below Trevor Montgomery’s eye. She wiped it away and closed the book. She hadn’t dreamed about Trevor Montgomery the movie star in over a week. She hadn’t seen him swinging from a yardarm or floating in a pool. Instead, she’d seen a man in white boxers and a ribbed undershirt, eyes red and rimmed with dark circles. A man who needed a shave. A man who’d bruised her wrists, who drank too much, who’d promised to stop and had, as far as she could tell.

A man who was very, very real, who had too many faults and too much passion.

And she loved him.

Where had he gone? Would he come back? She shouldn’t care about either, but she did.

She loved him. It didn’t matter if he was a fraud or not.

The ringing doorbell startled her from her thoughts, and she ran to answer it.

Maybe he’d come back.

Disappointment filled her when Hannah, the manager of her Hollywood store, burst inside.

“Wait till you see what came into the shop today.”

“What is it, Hannah?”

“The gold doubloon Jack Warner gave Trevor Montgomery.”

Adriana gripped the edge of the door. She’d been looking for that piece for years, and all she could determine was that it had disappeared right along with Trevor Montgomery.

“Take a look at it,” Hannah said, holding the gold piece out for Adriana to inspect.

Adriana closed the door, took the doubloon from Hannah, and went to her desk. She flipped on the light, pulled out a magnifying glass, and scrutinized the front, the back, the edges. She’d seen many fakes over the years, but not this time. It didn’t take a jeweler to know the value of the piece.

“Did you buy it already?” she asked.

Hannah shook her head. “I gave the owner a deposit. It looked like the real thing, I just wasn’t sure.”

“It’s real all right. My guess is we could purchase it for fifteen... no, closer to eighteen thousand.” She ran her fingers over the piece, noting the slight wear in the engraving, as if it had been carried in a pocket for quite some time. That’s how she’d always known the fakes. According to Harrison, Trevor had always carried that coin in his pocket. It was bound to get worn over the years, and the fakes had been much too perfect.

“Is there any way we can get in touch with the owner now?” Adriana asked, anxious to make the purchase.

“It’s the oddest thing,” Hannah told her. “A man
claiming to be Trevor Montgomery’s son brought it in.”

Adriana’s heart skipped a beat. Was it her Trevor who had taken the coin into the shop?

“Did he tell you where he got the coin?” Adriana asked, trying not to show her excitement.

“In a pair of tuxedo trousers.”

He’d been wearing a tux the night he came into her life. A tux that was wrinkled and sodden. The same tux he’d been wearing sixty years before when he stepped into the pool at Sparta and tried to end his life.

Could everything he told her have been the truth? She’d believed it once, so why was it so difficult to believe it now? Maybe if she saw him again she’d believe.

“Did he leave a phone number or address?”

Hannah laughed. “The bus depot. Locker 372.”

“That’s it? That’s all he told you?”

“No. He said he’d be back in two days to get the rest of his money.”

Hannah seemed hesitant, as if there was more to the story.

“What else did he tell you?” Adriana asked.

“He asked me to give you a message.”

“Which was?” Adriana prodded.

“That you should watch
Captain Caribe
very closely, especially the scene where he’s taking off his boots. He said you should look at Trevor Montgomery’s ankles.” Hannah frowned. “Is this all some kind of joke?”

Adriana remembered that first morning Trevor came to her home. She remembered the way he’d walked around her bedroom while she lay in bed trying to stay calm. He’d picked up the video of
Captain Caribe
and told her about spraining his ankle
and wrapping it himself. Had he been telling the truth all along?