Shine Your Love on Me (20 page)

“Sure.”

Carolyn pushed to her feet and went to the
liquor cabinet. “Drambuie?”

“Sure.”

“Rocks?”

“Straight up, Mom.”

Jonathan Carpenter put his arm around his
son’s shoulders, even though he had to reach up to do so, and
walked him over to the table. “Tell me, Pres, what are these pilots
about?”

“Well, Dad, one’s a police drama…”

* * * *

Brooke opened the door, and the pugs ran
inside. Ruth pushed up from the sofa and greeted the dogs, who
jumped up to lick her face. Harry, sitting beside Ruth, rose. There
was another man in the living room, too. Brooke raised her
eyebrows.

“Have a good weekend, despite the rain?”

“It was good to get away. Who’s this?” She
nodded toward the attractive gentleman sitting on the loveseat.

“This is my grandson, Mike Lupin,” Harry
said. “He’s a lawyer.”

“Nice to meet you.” Brooke extended her hand,
and Mike shook it.

“I thought you should talk to him about your
dumbass employer. Seems to me like he needs suing.”

“I was thinking about it.”

Mike pulled a card from his breast pocket and
handed it to her. “When you want to talk, call me. In the meantime,
are you free for dinner tomorrow night?”

Brooke blushed. “I’m sorry, but I’m seeing
someone…exclusively.”

Ruth’s eyes lit up. “Yippee!”

Ignoring her grandmother, Brooke continued,
“I think we should meet. I’d like to get this guy into court for
what he did. He ruined my life, my career.”

Mike pulled out a pocket calendar, and he and
Brooke conferred on dates and times.

Harry took Ruth aside. “She’s really serious
about that writer guy? Pres?”

“Yep. Couldn’t be happier.”

“You think he’s better than my grandson?”
Harry puffed himself up.

“Harry Lupin! This isn’t a competition. Pres
got there first. He won her over. And it wasn’t easy. She resisted
him for the longest time.”

“That means he deserves to win? In my day,
the best man won.”

“In your day, dinosaur’s roamed the Earth.
Leave it alone. The poor kid is finally happy.”

“Okay, okay. But Mike is the better man.”

“Pfft.” Ruth made a face and moved toward the
bedroom. “Brooke, I’m kinda tired. I’m going to bed.”

“Okay, Nan.” She finished up with Mike then
he and Harry left.

The pugs trotted after Ruth.
They missed
her.
Brooke smiled. She made a cup of tea and pulled out her
recipe cards to prepare for the upcoming Friday Night Dinner and a
Movie. This would be her first week doing one on Saturday night,
too. Interest in attending had gotten competitive. People now
signed up in the lobby of Ruth’s building. The fee had grown to ten
dollars, and Brooke was actually making a small profit.

Two nights in a row.
She chewed her
lip, searching for the right main dish. Then, she checked her
inventory of old movies.
Time to get more up-to-date.
She
made a note to ask Pres for his recommendations. She searched
Academy Award
lists for the sixties and seventies. What’s
Up, Doc
? Barbra Streisand screwball comedy. Perfect!

It was midnight before she finished two
tentative menus and had narrowed the choice of films to five. She
yawned, leaning back and gazing out the window at the stars. Her
weekend with Pres had started out like a fantasy come true. Then,
the harsh reality of Sunday had brought her down. Still, in the car
on the drive back to the City, she had sensed they were closer than
ever because they had shared some unhappy time.

She had never seen that side of Pres. He
always appeared so even. She knew he resented his dad, but hadn’t
thought about why. Now, she had a clear picture. She loved him more
after he had spilled his guts. Even though he’d lost his temper, it
didn’t scare her. She wanted to know him, every facet of him, good
and bad. Her heart went out to him. He worked so hard to succeed.
She wanted that for him more than anything.

Would I have rebelled against my parents if
they had been around? Am I rebelling against them now? Maybe. Maybe
not. My path is winding in a different direction. Maybe that’s
okay.

The next morning, Brooke got started
preparing for the weekend of meals and movies. By eleven o’clock,
all the slots were filled on the sign-up sheet, and two older women
were arguing out on the street about who had gotten there first.
Brooke was pumped.
It’s great to be in demand.
Buoyed up by
love and purpose, she strode to the grocery store then Zabar’s and
The Petite Sweet before coming home, loaded down with heavy
bags.

At three, she met Pres with the dogs, and
they headed for the park.

“Have to make this quick,” he said.

“Oh?” They fell into stride together.

“I’m back to writing. I lost a couple of
days, but I’m ready to rock now.”

“What happened?”

“I had it out with my dad.”

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah. He admitted buying the script. Cleared
the air. He says he supports me now.”

“That’s great.”

“But only because I made it clear I was never
going to do what he wanted.”

She stopped to hug Pres. “I’m proud of you.
You stood your ground.”

He grinned at her and blushed. “Thanks.”

The dogs barked, resenting the interruption
of their walk. They pulled to get to the Great Lawn.

“Aren’t very empathetic, are they?” Brooke
asked.

“They’re determined to get on with it.”

“Those little puggies. Certainly have a mind
of their own.”

He laughed. “Let’s go.”

Conversation centered around his plot ideas
and her recipes. He was amazed that she’d sold out two nights so
far in advance. She was impressed he’d plotted out four,
consecutive pilots in his cop series, just in case he got the call.
They held hands on the way home and kissed at the door to her
building.

“What about Saturday night?” he asked.

“I’m doing a dinner and a movie, we can’t go
out.”

“Will you stay with me afterward?”

“I’ll be pretty tired.”

“If you’re not tired, stay. Let’s do
something on Sunday.”

“Can you take the time off?”

“To be with you? Sure.”

Happiness flowed through Brooke.
Is this
crazy, or a new life for me?

Strength and conviction filled Pres,
providing the motivation he needed to outline plot ideas for his
police pilot. Pots of coffee and Beethoven kept him going day after
day as he sat at his computer and typed. Break times his thoughts
turned to Brooke.

Convinced he’d never been truly in love
before, he smiled every time he recalled her soft skin and sweet
demeanor. She was his lifeline, his steel girder, supporting his
dreams, a woman he could talk to. What started out as lust had
become infatuation. That had morphed to desire mixed with liking.
But after the way she understood him, it blossomed into
full-fledged love. He couldn’t imagine his life without her, and it
wasn’t all about sex.

So, when he got the call, he didn’t stop to
think. He assumed his good fortune would include Brooke, because
she was part of his life, his being. At first, he was annoyed his
cell was interrupting him, right in the middle of madly typing plot
twists for program number five. Grumbling, he yanked open the phone
and greeted the caller gruffly.

“Congratulations, Pres.”

“Max?”

“Yeah, buddy. Congratulations.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Are you sitting down?”

“Yeah, yeah. Get to it. I’m busy.”

“Gunther Quill, from East/West Productions,
made an offer for your pilot.”

“What?” Pres shot up out of his chair. He
began to pace.

“That’s right. So, I called the other guy,
and he countered. I’m in the middle of an auction. Whoops.
Someone’s on the other line. Hang tight.”

Max hung up. Pres thought he’d jump out of
his skin, waiting for Max to call back. He watched the clock, put
up another pot of coffee, watched the clock, paced, watched the
clock, threw a toy for Buddy, and watched the clock. It took a full
twenty minutes before his agent’s name showed up again on his
cell.

“Okay, calm down. I’ve got two offers for
you. Your decision.”

Pres could hardly take in Max’s words as his
agent explained about the two production companies, their positives
and negatives. And the offers. The dollar figures were close. Pres
asked Max’s opinion. They talked for ten more minutes then Pres
decided to go with East/West because Gunther Quill had a great
track record.

“I’ll get back to you,” Max said. Pres laced
his fingers behind his head and leaned back against the wall. His
dream was coming true. Excitement bubbled up inside him. He
couldn’t wait to tell Brooke. Then, the phone rang again.

“They want you out here on Monday to sign the
contract and start work.”

“What? It’s Thursday.”

“Yeah, so? You got something better to
do?”

“I have to write out there?”

“They’re contracting for six. They want the
scripts for six. Fly out there. They’ll put you up in a four star
hotel, and you’ll write.”

“Can’t I write here?”

“They want to work with you. The first two or
three are going to be a collaborative deal. Then, they expect you
to do the rest on your own, flying out for a couple of script
conferences. You need to be there when they’re shooting, too.”

“I’m not moving to California.” Pres began to
pace.

“I don’t give a shit where you live when
you’re not working. But when they say jump, buddy, you say ‘how
high.’ Do you want this deal, or don’t you?”

Pres was torn.
Can Brooke come with
me?
“No, no, of course, I’ll be there. Thank you, Max, for
getting this.”

“You’re welcome. Congratulations, Pres.
You’ve earned it, buddy. Let me know what time you arrive in L. A.
on Monday. I’ll have a car there for you.”

“How long do you think I’ll need to be
there?”

“Depends on how you all get along. Maybe a
couple of months? How long will it take you to come up with the
script?”

“I’ve got three doped out now. But if they
don’t like them…”

“You’ve got to consider all angles. They like
your work, so that’s good. Figure two months. Maybe three at the
outside.”

He swallowed. “Okay. Thanks. See you
Monday.”

“Have a great trip. Fly first class, Pres.
You deserve it.”

“Are they paying for my ticket?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then.”

He closed his cell and sat back. The best
news and the worst news.
Three months! Will Brooke come with me?
Will she wait for me? If she stays here, will I lose her?

He picked up his basketball and went to the
backyard, where he had a hoop tacked up on a tree. He dribbled and
shot a few, but sank none. His concentration was off. Finally, Pres
picked up the phone.

* * * *

Brooke slipped the black cocktail dress over
her head and shimmied it down over her bosom. She smoothed the
skirt with her palms then sought Nan’s help. Her grandmother zipped
up the back.

“You look gorgeous, sweetheart. Wait a
minute. I have something.”

Brooke slipped her feet into high pumps.
Love that about Pres. I can wear tall shoes, and he’s still
taller.

Nan reappeared with a pearl necklace in her
hand. “Come, darling.” She fastened the strand around her
granddaughter’s neck.

They hung down just above the swell of
Brooke’s breasts, revealed by the low neckline of the silk dress.
She went to the mirror on the back of her closet door. “They’re
perfect, Nan.”

“Keep them.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Of course, you can. Should’ve given them to
you long ago. I haven’t worn them in five years. I don’t know what
I’ve been waiting for. Maybe I just forgot I had them. They look
fabulous on you.”

Brooke grinned. She ran a brush through her
hair, refreshed her red lipstick, and grabbed the small, black,
beaded bag on the bed. “Where’s my shawl? The restaurant’s going to
be air conditioned, I’m sure.”

“Yes, it’s warm for September. Here it is.”
Nan handed her the black lace wrap.

“I can’t believe Pres’s parents are taking us
out to dinner. I didn’t expect this. I hope they like me.”

“What’s not to like? You’re beautiful,
brilliant, perfect for their son. They’re lucky he found you.”

Brooke blushed with pleasure. “Nan, you’re a
little prejudiced.”

“Ya think?”

Their laughter was interrupted by the formal
ring of the doorbell. Brooke opened it to admit Pres. She caught
her breath. She’d never seen him dressed up before. The dark navy
suit hugged his fit body. He looked slim and sexy.

“Holy shit! Oops, pardon me, Ruth. You look
amazing, Brooke. Wow.”

“So do you. So, so…grown up?”

“Thanks a lot. Geez. Can’t you come up with
something better? Hell, you were an English major.”

“You mean like, hot, sexy, devastatingly
handsome?”

He grinned. “Yeah, like that.”

“Nope.” She shook her head and laughed.

“They’ll have to turn up the air conditioner
when you walk in, baby. You’re smokin’.” Pres took her hand.

“Have a wonderful time, kids,” Ruth said.

The pugs came to the door. They looked over
the situation and barked their displeasure.

“They never like it when anyone leaves,”
Brooke said.

“She’s mine tonight, guys,” Pres said,
bending down to scratch them behind the ears.

Rocky hailed a cab, and within a few minutes,
Brooke and Pres were whizzing through Central Park, on their way to
Club Monaco, a posh restaurant on East Sixty Third Street near Park
Avenue.

“I can’t believe I’m meeting your parents.
Isn’t it a little soon for this?”