The Actor (10 page)

“Please stay.
Forever would be good.”

Did he say
forever? He said forever.

She nodded,
filled with a relief almost too big to handle.

He cradled her
face in his hands and made her meet his gaze.

“I love you. I
know I don’t say it a lot, I don’t think I’ve ever told you, but it’s true.”

“I love you
too.”

He glanced over
at the espresso machine and chuckled.

“Sit down, I’ll
get the coffee. You’re good at many things, but coffee isn’t one of them.”

“I know.”

When he put the
mug in front of her, he stole a kiss.

“Want company to
look at the computer?”

I never said
I needed one, but if you think I do, I guess I do.

“That would be
great.”

“Your turn to
drive me.”

It was a bit
strange to drive through the city,
his
city, with him in the passenger
seat.

This will be
my city too. How long can I stay here without having to mess with any papers?
Lawrence will know.

The mere thought
of staying, of having practical matters to solve because she was
staying
made her giddy.

“You look happy.
I like that.”

She reached for
his hand.

“I
am
happy. We have to celebrate your job.”

Laura imagined
both Lawrence and Thomas clapping their hands when she called about the
apartment. Lawrence was efficient indeed. A large truck filled with everything
she owned appeared just days later, and she only had to point to show the
movers where things should go.

Her things
filled a void, and made the house a home.
Her
home.

The word was
both thrilling and hard to believe, but when she sat in the sofa at night with
Marc’s arms around her, she belonged.

American
Halloween came and went, and just when Laura started to wonder about Christmas
decorations, a company showed up, dressing the house in lights.

Marc smiled like
a little boy, grabbed her around the waist, and spun her around.

“This will be
awesome. I love Christmas.”

I bet it’ll
be weird for him without the kids. We should go shop for them, but not today.

He pressed his
lips against the tip of her nose.

“What do you
want from Santa? I played Santa once, I make a
great
Santa.”

“I bet you do. I
want
you
.”

“Well, you have
me.”

“I don’t know…
What do you want?”

He shrugged.

“Peace on Earth
and good will to all? You’ve already given me the best present anyone could.
You’re you.”

This is an
enchanted moment in time. May it last forever.

Marc kissed her.

Okay, now
it’s enchanted.

“When my divorce
comes through, would you marry me?”

Say what?
Fainting time?

“I’d want
nothing more.”

He grinned.

“Wonderful. I’ll
ask you when I’m allowed to.”

“Up until then,
it can be our secret.”

“I like that.”

He kissed her
again, but just as his body pressed against her made her woozy, he broke free.

“I’ve gotta make
a phone call.”

And I need a
cold shower…

She moseyed into
the kitchen. How strange it was to always find everything clean and shiny. If
she did nothing but clean from morning to night, he house still wouldn’t look
this good.

Oh well, I’m
sure I’m good at something else. I’ve just gotta figure out what.

A pile of mail
lay on the kitchen table. She didn’t usually pay much attention to it, but she
browsed through the envelopes. All bills went to Lawrence, Marc tossed
everything that wasn’t ads in the kitchen and forgot about it, and Molly threw
whatever remained out the next morning.

We might be
missing some cool stuff, but who cares.

An envelope in
the pile caught her attention. It was silvery and very classy. She put a finger
on it and tugged to get it loose from the rest.

Marc wouldn’t
notice or care if she opened his mail, but looking at anything not addressed to
her would be against her principles.

This one has
both names. Marc and Laura. It’s for me too.

She slid it
across the table to see better.

It’s got the
studio’s logo on the back. Should I open? I mean, my name is just a courtesy,
but it’s there…

“There you are,
wanna go ice skating? What’s that?”

Where do you
get all these crazy energetic ideas?

She most
certainly did
not
want to go ice-skating. Standing on slippery, hard,
cold ice with a pair of knives strapped to her shoes wasn’t high on her to-do
list.
They tried it once and Marc held her up until he tired of it,
swept her up in his arms, and took her to Starbucks instead. Hopefully,
whatever the envelope might be would distract him from it.

“I don’t know.
You should open it.”

He shrugged, but
took it when she held it out.

“Probably a
party. We get those all the time but I throw them out.”

Really? I had
no idea. Self-preservation instinct, maybe. I love you more than life itself,
but parties and you don’t go together.

The envelope
contained a silvery card with an invitation to the producer of his new show.

“Christmas
celebration, blah, blah, blah.”

If he avoided
these gatherings there was a reason, and the card promised both adventure and
doom.

“Should we go?”

“Yes… No… Maybe.
Do you want to?”

She did and she
didn’t. She’d love to see the producer’s house and all the people. It’d be
great to get a nice dress and wear a pair of pretty shoes, but it scared her
too.

 What if he
moseys off and gets high and disappears for a week?

It might not
exactly become an enchanted evening, and it might put their relation to a test
she couldn’t cope with.

To be fair, he
had shown no tendency to go off on a bender since she arrived months earlier.

 
He drinks a
little too much some nights, but it’s nothing like it was. Shouldn’t I trust
him by now?

They weren’t
isolated in the house in any way. They visited Marc’s friends and
acquaintances, and people came over, but something like this could be entirely
different. The mere thought of going back to incoherent, doped up Marc made her
heart sink.

When she didn’t
answer, he put his hands on her shoulders.

“I throw these
away because I don’t want to be that person anymore. C’mon, let’s go skating, I
promise I won’t let you fall.”

Close contact
with ice might not be such a bad idea after all.

Marc kept the
promise: she was still barely able to stand on the skates, but he kept her on
her feet. She had clearly misjudged the sport; it was an excuse to cling to him
in a public area.

He glanced down
into her eyes and smiled.

“What?”

“Nothing. I was
just thinking I’m learning to enjoy this.”

Though, not
for the reason you might think.

“I wanted to be
a hockey player when I was younger. Didn’t turn out like that, but I got to
play one a few years ago.”

When they
returned home, a little package waited. Marc put up an innocent face.

“I think that’s
for you.”

Really? What
did you do?

She started to
open it, slowly, wanting to savor the sweet feeling of having a present. He
dropped the cool façade. “C’mon, just rip it open. You’re killing me here.”

So, she ripped.

“I got a box.”

It’s a pretty
box too, all blue and velvety.

“Yes, I bought
you a box. Kill me now, or end my suffering and open it.”

She opened the lid
and her breath got stuck in her chest. A heart-shaped gem surrounded by white
gold looked up at her.

Marc murmured,
“I wanted to get you a diamond ring, but it’s not time yet. A necklace will
have to do.”

Oh you
wonderful, romantic, crazy, gorgeous man!

*****

Bill came by
their house a couple of days later. Laura was still a little afraid of him, but
he had warmed up considerably since Marc returned to employable shape.

I’m a useful
tool to him.

She sat in the
kitchen with her feet pulled up under her, sipping a mug of hot cocoa.

The tall agent
leaned against a kitchen counter and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I need to talk
to the two of you.”

Obviously,
since you’re here.

He fixed his
gray eyes on Marc. “You have to show yourself, it’s a part of your job. You’ve
been holed up here for months. I’ll see you two Thursday night.”

He headed for
the door, but paused and glanced back over his shoulder, looking straight at
Laura. “Your job is to keep him presentable at least through dinner. Get a nice
dress.”

Marc glared
after him, and as soon as the front door closed, he lifted an eyebrow and
mimicked the agent perfectly.

“Keep him
presentable over dinner. Get a nice dress. Dick. We don’t have to go just
because he says so.”

But we will,
won’t we? For better and for worse. Am I the only one who thinks returning an
addict to temptation seems a horrible idea? Should I say something, or will
that make everything worse?

When the night
she both feared and anticipated came and they were ready to leave the house,
she paused to look at her lover. He was so handsome her heart might stop.

I should
probably count my blessings if you’re still by my side on the way home.

He smiled,
“What?” and she shook her head.

“Nothing.”

“Yes,
something. What?”

She put a hand
on his shoulder.

“I just… You
look so good I want to rip all your clothes off.”

He laughed and
cupped her cheek in his hand.

“And you are
beautiful. If it was up to me, I’d carry you to bed and investigate what you’re
wearing under the dress.”

At least they
were in agreement. If neither of them wanted to go, they probably shouldn’t.

This was
business.

He was already
known for being unpredictable

They
had
to show up.

He brushed his
lips over hers. “Kissing-safe lipstick is the best invention ever.” Falling
serious, he added, “I might need you to tell me to go home.”

“I know.”

“Hit me if you
have to.”

“Not funny.”

She sat quietly
in the car, struggling not to fidget, and once they reached the mansion, she
was grateful to walk arm in arm with him.

I’ve been
thinking our house is big. This is a friggin’ palace. So many people…

There were a
few familiar faces, but there must be at least a hundred make-up artists,
administrators, assistants, and people with jobs she couldn’t even spell.

I’m such an
outsider. Do they know I’m here? If they do, if they see me, what do they
think? I probably shouldn’t stare, but it’s so hard not to. Well, at least I’m
not ogling people…

The house held
more brass chandeliers and marble pillars than she’d seen in her life.

Marc tilted his
head towards her. “They’re not real. It’s just foam, painted well. Nothing here
is real, it’s just a façade.”

Makes sense.
They deal in a world of fantasy, why not continue the show off camera? That’s
where it goes wrong for you, isn’t it? You want something normal in a world of
constant make believe.

Marc stayed
glued to her side, introduced her to people, and made her feel safe. There were
so many names, all blurring together in her mind. Hours passed, and she didn’t
realize how long they’d been there until he said, “I’m drunk. Maybe we should
go home.”

“Okay.”

It was so
responsible of him she wanted to cheer. Not to mention stopping somewhere on
the way home to make love.

They almost
made it to the door.

Someone spotted
them and shouted, “You can’t leave yet, we need a photo with the crew.”

Marc muttered,
“Damn,” and turned back into the house, holding her hand.

A new voice
called out, “Marc, I can see you enjoy your new woman, but if she’s not in the
show you’ll have to let her go for a little bit.”

Just like that,
they were separated.

Laura stood
with her back against the wall, overwhelmed by the posing and camera flashes.

A woman tugged
at her arm, babbling something about upholstery and the hosts’ good taste in
furniture, and on the other side, another voice broke in.

“I love those
earrings, dear. Where did you get them? I’ve been admiring them all evening,
but that egotistical man kept you all to himself.”

“I…”

There was no
time to answer. Well-meaning hands pushed and pulled her into another room. She
glanced back over her shoulder in half panic and Marc met her eyes. People
tugged him in the other direction and he held up five fingers. She could almost
hear him say,
Five minutes, babe.

Five minutes
turned into forty as she dodged questions and tried to break free from the
group without being rude.

Whoa these
people are curious.

The other women
wanted to talk about Marc, and she
liked
talking about him, but she also
had a churning feeling they should get out of there while they still could.

One voice said,
“He’s handsome, but he is a party fiend that one. How do you cope with it?”

Someone else
filled in, “Anne didn’t hold up too well, bless her heart. Hope you don’t mind
me saying so.”

Laura was about
to answer everyone has flaws of some kind, but the subject had already moved on
to someone else’s husband and the scandal of finding a leopard thong in the
back of their Porsche.

A platinum
blonde woman said, “Don’t get me wrong, Simon is an absolute sweetheart, but he
needs to keep these things to himself. I don’t tell him about my tennis
instructor, and I don’t want to know where his dick goes.”

Another
beautiful face said, “Oh hush you, you’re scaring our new girl.”

The first woman
laughed, “C’mon, she lives with
Marc.
She has to know it happens.”

How many of
these women spread their legs for him?

Wait, I
don’t want to know. Making friends is good, and if I know which ones slept with
him I’ll never get past it. Maybe they all did.

Once she
excused herself from the women, promising they would
have
to get
together soon, she took a wrong turn and wandered around for a bit before she
found the way to Marc.

Men. I
should have figured out they’d find a bar.

Her lover
smoked a cigar and seemed a trifle unsteady, but better than she expected. When
he saw her, he put his scotch down on the bar and waved to her to come closer.

“There she is,
my fairy queen.”

He pulled her
close, even remembering to keep the cigar away from her, and she wrapped her
arms around his neck.

“I want to go
home.”

She expected
him to object and want to stay with his friends, but he just nodded.

“Okay.”

*****

Marc was
relieved to find the woman in his arms hold more appeal than the party.

She was right
too; they should go while he still could. Nothing good ever came from him
staying late.

He leaned a
little heavier against her than he’d like to confess, but the front door was in
sight.