Regret Not a Moment (21 page)

The young woman held out her glass for the refill. The other actor slid his hand around the girl’s waist, then down to her firm buttocks. She did not acknowledge the contact but went on pointing to the animals and talking.

Bebe. The nickname was familiar to Devon. She wondered if the girl was Bebe Henley. If so, Devon was slightly acquainted with the girl’s family in New York and recalled the girl’s debut two years before. Since then, she knew the girl had been classified as “wild” by New York society. As though to confirm this, Bebe turned to the director and gave him a long kiss, rubbing her body against his invitingly. The actor who had been holding her did not show annoyance but simply leaned against her rear, resting his head on the back of her shoulders and rubbing the backs of her thighs and buttocks.

Devon started to urge her horse onward, not wishing to intrude on the boozy, wanton scene. Suddenly, the sound of agonized screeches from the chimpanzees stopped Eskimo in his tracks. Devon turned to face the group. The studio head, probably annoyed at being ignored by Bebe, was picking up a stone and preparing to throw it at the cage. Apparently a previous stone—the cause of the screams—had hit its mark, because the baby chimpanzee had a cut above its left ear and the mother was frantically screaming while the father rattled the cage with his strong arms.

Bebe pointed at a sign affixed to the cage. DO NOT TEASE THE ANIMALS, it said. She laughed and threw her champagne glass at the sign, but it missed its mark and shattered against the iron bars. Most of the glass fell harmlessly on the ground outside the cage, but some fell inside. The furious male chimpanzee picked up a handful of the stuff and threw it at his tormentors, who raised their arms to shield themselves. Now the ape screamed in pain at the cuts on his palm, jumping up and down as he vocalized.

At first the entire group, unhurt by the flying glass, stared in stupefaction at the ape, then Bebe let out a peal of laughter that seemed to act as a signal for the others. Appalled, Devon watched as one of the actors mimicked the movements of the injured animal. The other actor, wanting to go him one better, approached the cage and kicked it, backing away quickly as the chimpanzee rushed toward him.

Fury and disgust took hold of Devon. Charging on Eskimo into the middle of the drunken group, she yelled, “Stop it!”

The group scattered at the vision of the avenging woman, black hair gleaming around her shoulders as she flew at them astride the big white horse. She brought the animal to a halt so abrupt that he reared up on his hind legs before settling down in a cyclone of dust.

“You are disgusting!” Devon spat at no one person in particular. “How dare you torment an innocent animal.”

The shocked group was silent for a few moments. Bebe regained her composure first and, glaring up at Devon, said challengingly, “How dare you tell us what to do?”

Devon turned toward her, contempt radiating from her aquamarine eyes. “I dare because I’m right! You should be ashamed to torment something that can’t defend itself!” Devon let her eyes travel from one member of the group to the other as she said this, forcing them to meet her eyes. One by one, the men dropped their gazes before Devon’s implacable one. She could see that they were indeed ashamed of their behavior, or at least ashamed at being caught.

Bebe, on the other hand, refused to drop her gaze. “I don’t have to do what you say,” she taunted childishly. She picked up another rock and turned toward the animal cage.

Devon turned to the men, each of whom was staring at the ground.

“Gentlemen,” she commanded in a tone that brooked no contradiction, “either you control your companion or I will.”

The men looked up at Devon. They saw her gun. They saw her riding crop. Devon made no move to use either, but something in her attitude convinced the men that she would do whatever was necessary to stop the destructive girl. They had no doubt that she would win this battle, one way or the other.

The studio head gently took Bebe’s arm. “C’mon, honey, let’s cool off with a swim.” The young woman started to shake him off in irritation, but the director came to the other side of her and grasped her elbow forcefully, leading her toward the dirt path.

Devon stood in front of the chimpanzee cages, watching the group go. Just as Bebe reached the path, she turned and faced Devon. She didn’t say anything to her; rather, she seemed to be trying to memorize Devon’s face. Then, with a contemptuous toss of her head, she turned back to her companions and strutted up the path.

John stretched and opened his eyes. For a moment, the sight of the crimson and gold brocade canopy above the bed disoriented him, and it took him a few seconds to remember that he was at the Hearst ranch. The space beside him was rumpled but empty. Devon must have gone riding, John concluded. Rolling over to look at his pocket watch on the bedside table, he saw that it was one-thirty in the afternoon.

“Good, almost time for lunch,” he murmured to himself.

He pulled on a pair of cream-colored linen slacks and a blue shirt and made his way to the Neptune Pool. In the cabana, he chose a new swimming suit from the selection Hearst always kept on hand for his guests, slipped a terrycloth robe over it, and handed his clothes to the valet who manned the dressing room.

Emerging into the pool area, he squinted at the bright sunlight and looked around for someone he knew. He spotted Sydney and Bart, apparently asleep on lounge chairs, and walked toward them. Quietly, so as not to awaken them, he eased onto a lounge chair next to Bart, took off his robe, and closed his eyes. But a few moments later, the sounds of an argument caught his attention.

Coming into the pool area was one of the most stunning women he had ever seen. She was accompanied by four men, one on either side of her, two lagging slightly behind. Taller than either man at her side, she had endlessly long legs, which made her appear even taller. Thick, wavy blonde hair spilled over her shoulders almost to her waist in a style that was not strictly fashionable, but which suited her to perfection. Her white shorts and halter top revealed a figure that was curvaceous but not so full that it could be called voluptuous.

The woman was heatedly berating the men at her side. “You should have defended me!” she said angrily.

A short fat man, who John thought he recognized as the head of Crown Studios, replied in an exasperated tone, “Look, forget about it. It’s not important.”

John saw one of the two stragglers go over to the barman by the side of the pool and place an order. Meanwhile, the group settled at a table underneath a blue and white umbrella.

The woman was apparently unwilling to let the dispute drop. Even after the barman had filled five champagne flutes with the chilled wine and brought them over to the table, she continued.

“There were five of us and one of her. But you all caved in like a bunch of little boys! What kind of men are you anyway!” she said scornfully.

John put on his sunglasses so he could observe the group without appearing to. He was often intrigued by the dramas that played themselves out at the Hearst ranch. Guests there, insulated from the real world, seemed to lose their inhibitions. They were like a group of teenagers away at camp: hungry to experience everything, to play, to act wild, and to suffer none of the consequences for doing so.

The woman looked vaguely familiar to John, but he could not place her. He smiled to himself as he realized how he had changed since his single days. As a bachelor, he would have surely remembered the details of a meeting with someone as attractive as the blonde.

Suddenly she scraped her chair back from the table, stood up, walked to the waters edge, and jumped into the swimming pool. Doing an angry crawl, she swam down the length of the pool toward John and his friends. Reaching his end, she placed her hands on the edge of the pool surround and hoisted herself out of the water. She stood for a moment directly before John, the flimsy white cloth of her shorts and halter top clinging to her, revealing every detail of the firm body underneath. Her pert, pink-tipped breasts pointed out through the transparent fabric, erect from the coolness of the water. The girl lifted her arms to push her long hair away from her face, closing her eyes and turning her face to the sun. She turned back toward the pool, holding her hair over the water and squeezing. He had a perfect view of her tight buttocks, visible through the wet material.

She turned to face John again. Handsome, she thought. “Hello,” she said.

“Hello.” John looked over at Bart and Sydney. Bart was snoring now, fast asleep under the noonday sun. Sydney had not moved since John’s arrival. The sight of his friends made him think of Devon and he guiltily averted his eyes from the young woman’s body.

“Bebe Henley,” she said, walking toward him with her hand outstretched.

“Bebe Henley?” John, startled, politely scrambled to his feet. “But I remember you as a little girl!” He smiled broadly, taking her hand and shaking it heartily. “I’m John Alexander. Your father and I had some business together a few years back. You probably don’t remember me.”

“John Alexander!” said Bebe with a laugh. “I won’t believe it’s you until you take off those awful sunglasses. I remember you had the most devastating blue eyes. I had a mad crush on you, I want you to know.”

John obediently removed the glasses. Bebe took a step closer to John, not releasing his hand. He was disconcertingly aware of her naked body through the thin cloth.

“Yes, it’s really you. And your eyes are more devastating than ever,” she purred.

John was torn between wanting to flirt back and the realization that he should stop. The last time he had seen Bebe, she had been an awkward adolescent, much too tall for her age and with a slight case of acne. Five years had vastly changed her.

Before he could respond, Bebe asked, “May I join you?”

“How rude of me not to have offered. It would be a pleasure,” John said, feeling clumsy and a little flustered. He realized that he had not really flirted with a woman since his engagement to Devon. He hadn’t been particularly interested in flirting. But there was something exciting in the idea that this woman—girl, he reminded himself—clearly found him attractive. He knew it was a game he should immediately end, but he enjoyed it. I’m not actually
doing
anything, after all, he told himself.

As graceful as a cat, Bebe reclined into a chair, stretching her hands over her head. John sat down next to her.

“How is your father?” John asked, feeling obligated to channel the discussion in a more serious direction.

“Angry at me all the time, I’m afraid.” Bebe sighed.

“Oh?” answered John noncommittally.

“I stand accused of ruining the family name with my antics,” she said sardonically.

John vaguely remembered hearing some gossip about his old acquaintance’s daughter, but could not recall its content.

“I can’t believe you would do such a thing,” he said with a laugh that showed his startling white teeth against his bronzed skin.

“Oh, I’m guilty as charged,” she admitted playfully. She turned on her side, once more giving him a full view of her body.

John did not reply. He had an uncomfortable certainty the game had gone far enough.

He replaced his sunglasses, though he knew it was impolite to do so. She’s just a child, he told himself, heady with her power over men. And you’ve seen too many like her to take her seriously. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll go and change for lunch,” John said formally, gathering up his terrycloth robe from the table that separated his lounge chair from that of the still-snoring Bart.

Bebe immediately sensed John’s mood change and, slightly piqued, rose abruptly to leave. “I’ll just rejoin my friends,” she said, and coolly put out her hand for John to shake.

John jumped up and took her hand, shaking it more warmly than necessary because he felt guilty for his sudden change in tone. After all, he told himself, I don’t need to be rude. Before he could complete the thought, Bebe had turned and walked away.

John put on his robe and tied it. He glanced at his snoozing friends, somehow glad that they had not witnessed his encounter with Bebe.

As he passed Sydney’s chair on the way to the cabana, a low suggestive voice followed him. “Careful, honey, that little kitty has big claws.”

John turned in surprise and stared at Sydney. She looked asleep; she didn’t move from her supine position on the lounge chair.

John wrapped his arms around Devon, admiring her reflection in the mirror. As was often the case, Marion Davies had decided to organize a theme costume ball, and Devon and John had thrown themselves into the spirit of it. The theme of the ball was ancient times. Easy enough for the men, who had mostly chosen to wear toga-like garments that they hoped approximated ancient Greece. A bit more difficult for the women, who seemed split between ancient Egypt and ancient Greece.

Devon had chosen ancient Egypt, and was wearing dramatic eye makeup in the style associated with Cleopatra. Alice had devised a headdress using a gold band to encircle Devon’s head; from the band hung gold lame so fine that it floated behind her like a veil when she walked. Her strapless dress was of the same material and it wrapped around her in a way that showed off her tiny waist and full breasts. Gold sandals and two thick gold cuffs completed the ensemble. With her shining black hair and her light golden tan, Devon looked convincingly exotic.

“I feel absolutely ridiculous in this getup, but you look gorgeous,” John said. He lowered his head to her shoulder and teasingly nipped it. “I missed you today,” he murmured as he slid his hands over her breasts, cupping one in each hand. He lightly stroked Devon’s nipples until they stood erect, clearly visible through the gold cloth.

“Stop that!” she said throatily, but she made no move to disengage herself. She could feel his hardness against her buttocks and she leaned against him.

“Please,” John moaned, “I’m not sure what this toga will or won’t reveal, but I feel quite vulnerable in it.”

Devon turned to face him. She reached up and drew his head to her, giving him a lingering kiss. The movement of his tongue inside her mouth sent erotic shivers through her body. “It’s tantalizing to think that you’re almost naked under that,” she said breathlessly. “All I have to do is reach up…” She lightly ran her fingernails up his muscled thighs, eased his underwear down, then sank on her knees in front of him.