The Proud and the Prejudiced (6 page)

“Just a book,” Alice said without looking up.

Winnie leaned in closer to read the title. “
The
Edge of Darkness
.” She laughed again. “So you must be one of those women
addicted to romance novels. I suppose that makes sense since you write for a
soap opera.”

Alice sighed then, gritting her teeth, lowered the
book to face Winnie – in a bikini too tiny to deserve to be called swimwear –
and Peter looking down on her. “I take great pleasure in reading many kinds of
books.” She hoped her smile appeared as insincere as Winnie’s. “I’m not going
to try to read anything serious while drinking a cocktail at a pool party where
I am sure to be interrupted.”

“I wouldn’t know. I never read romance novels.”

I doubt she ever reads.

“I remember that book,” Peter said and extended
his hand for Alice to hand it to him. He held her place with his finger and
glanced at the frayed back cover. “My mother had this.” He handed it back
opened to her page.

“This belonged to my mother,” Alice said. “I just
happened to come across it when I was going through her things.”

“I’m sorry. She passed away?”

Alice nodded. “Almost a year now, but it took me
awhile to be ready.” For once she wished she could see his eyes but couldn’t
with them hidden behind sunglasses.

“How is it?”

“Not too awful. Kind of over-the-top. The author
could have used a thesaurus. And a copy of
Strunk & White
.”

“Well, I’m sure back then novels were nothing like
the trash that is coming out now,” Winnie said. “Nothing compares to the erotic
romances published today.”

“Henry Miller might disagree,” Alice said, and
Peter laughed. “How about you, Winnie? What kind of books do you like?”

While Winnie fumbled for an answer, Peter sat on
the lounge chair next to Alice’s, much to her chagrin.

“While we wait for Winnie to select a favorite
from her extensive library,” he said, “why don’t you tell me what you read when
you are not likely to be interrupted?”

Is he making fun of Winnie?
She squinted at
him from behind her own sunglasses.
What is he up to?
She considered
answering
Ulysses
but decided it sounded too pretentious, so she
answered honestly. “
The Red and the Black
.”

His eyebrows rose over the top of his glasses.
“Stendahl?”

“Why do you sound surprised?”

“That’s serious literature for anyone, let alone
someone who…”

“Who writes for a soap?” She tried to keep her
hackles in check. “I could just as easily be surprised that you even know
Stendahl. After all, actors are usually presumed to be empty-headed.” She
couldn’t resist a slight nod in Winnie’s direction, but Winnie had her eyes on
Peter with a pout on her lips. “So, Mr. Walsingham. Pray tell, what is your
favorite book?”

After a moment’s thought, he said, “I can’t say as
I have a favorite.” Before Alice could tease him, he continued. “I like
Stendahl, Balzac, Proust. But I also like Conrad.”

Who the hell is this guy?
Genuinely
impressed, Alice said, “You certainly know your French literature. And then
Conrad. I like him, too, particularly
Nos
–”

“
Nostromo
.”

“Yes.”

“That would be my choice.”

“Do you agree with him? No one is incorruptible?”

“Alice,” Winnie said, and Alice would have sworn
Peter flinched at the sound of her voice.

“Did you think of a book?” Alice asked her.

“Alice, you must be burning up in that-that
mu-mu.” She waved her hand over Alice’s long white swimsuit cover.

“I am actually quite comfortable, but thanks for
your concern.”

Ignoring the interruption, Peter said, “You are
obviously an intelligent woman, and I can always tell in the scripts which
lines came from you. What are you doing wasting your time writing for a soap?”

This time, the hackles would not be suppressed. “I
could very well ask you why you waste your time acting.”

“It’s hardly the same thing.”

“True. I actually write something original, while
you recite someone else’s words.”

He stared at her, or at least she thought he did,
for what seemed like several minutes but couldn’t have been. Finally, he said,
“You’re right.”

“Alice, come for a swim with me,” Winnie said, and
they both looked up at her.

“Uh, not right now, thanks.”
What the hell? Why
doesn’t she ask her damn boyfriend to swim with her and leave me alone?
Until that afternoon, Winnie had never spoken to Alice, and now she pretended
they were the best of friends.

The sounds of laughter and splashing then drew
their attention to the end of the pool as Jack lifted Giselle and dropped her
into the water.

“Giselle is such a pretty girl,” Winnie said.
“It’s a shame she’ll never have a career outside of soaps.”

“What makes you say that?” Alice asked. “Lots of
actors get their start in soaps.”

“Perhaps, but she’s been on that show too long for
it to be a start.”

“Unfortunately, that’s true,” Peter said.

Alice set her book aside before she might rip it
apart. “Well, you’re on the soap now, Peter. Wouldn’t that be considered a step
backwards? Are you now doomed to a career in soaps?”

“I already have an established film career, with
another movie this summer. No one would think I have taken the role out of
desperation or because I am at the end of my career. Most people in the
industry see this for what it is – a power play by the network. For a soap
opera actress like Giselle to begin a film career, she would need connections
that she doesn’t have.”

Alice jerked herself up and tossed her book down.
“Come to think of it, I am feeling kind of hot. I think I will go for a swim.”
With that, she yanked off her swimsuit cover and threw it down and started for
the pool.

“A one-piece?” Winnie asked with a laugh as if
shocked by the very idea.

“Yes, Winnie, some people actually buy swimsuits
for swimming.”

As she dove into the deep end, Alice knew one
thing for certain – Peter Walsingham would never kiss her friend again.

CHAPTER 6

Peter crashed into her office with such violence
the door hit the wall.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Uh – Door. Closed. There for a reason.” Alice had
never seen him so angry before – not even on screen – with his eyes bulging and
his nostrils flaring and his fist twisted around what must have at one point
been the script – and it pleased her immensely.

Her calm manner only provoked him, and he threw
the mutilated script on her desk. “Are you insane?”

“If you do not calm down, I will have to ask you
to leave.”

He turned away and ran his fingers through his
hair, possibly pulling some of it out in the process. “This is spite, isn’t it?
Is this because of what I said about soaps and Giselle over at Jack’s?”

Yes
. “Don’t be ridiculous.” When he faced
her again, she knew she was smirking, but she couldn’t help herself.

“I won’t do it.”

“You have no choice.”

“It’s incest, Alice!”

“No, it isn’t. Tristan and Sienna haven’t slept
together.”

He began pacing the short distance from one side
of her office to the other. “But I kissed her.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed and hoped she
appeared bored with his tiresome behavior. “So did Luke.”

“Luke and Laura?”

“No, Luke Skywalker. He and Princess Leia kissed,
and no one cared when they – Hey! How do you know about Luke and Laura? From
General
Hospital
?”

“So my mother-er-Tristan’s mother walks in while I
am kissing Sienna and then announces that I am the product of her affair with
Sienna’s father?”

“How do you know characters from
General
Hospital
? I thought you didn’t know anything about soap operas.”

He threw his hands in the air. “Would you forget
about Luke and Laura!”

“You’re the one who brought them up. And you were
the one who thought no one would believe you and Eileen were brother and
sister. Well, there you have it – you have different fathers. Would you sit down?
Watching you walk back and forth is giving me a crick in my neck. It’s like
watching a tennis match in slow motion.”

He closed the door and sat across from her,
piercing her with his stare.
Damn his eyes. Huh. Maybe that’s where that
expression comes from.

“Why are you doing this? I am supposed to be the
romantic lead.”

“We both know you think this is beneath you. You
will be gone before the end of the year. Plus you’re getting ready to go off
and film a movie in Tabora.”

“Toronto.”

“Whatever. The show needs a strong storyline going
into the Olympics so viewers will want to come back. Sienna needs more than a
story arc. She needs a husband. She has never even been married. If this show
is going to survive after you leave, I need something I can build on so maybe
she can get married next year.”

She was relieved when he finally broke the gaze.
He tapped his finger on her desk like Morse code and pulled his top lip with
his bottom teeth.

“Won’t I be devastated by this?”

“Of course. You should read the rest of the
script. This is the perfect reason for you to go away for a while and get your
head together. You were in love with her.”

“But the man I always believed was my father –”

She waved his words away. “You never liked him
anyway. He’s the reason you went out to sea in the first place.”

He rubbed his hands over his face, inhaled deeply,
and exhaled fully. “Can I at least gouge out my eyes?”

“You didn’t sleep with your mother. You kissed
your sister. And your half-sister at that.”

He groaned. “Can I at least throw up?”

“Only projectile vomiting will do. If you can
vomit at will, I’ll be happy to write it in for you.”

He looked at her and smiled. “You would. Wouldn’t
you?”

No, no. This isn’t right. He should not be
smiling
. “Do you need syrup of ipecac?”

*****

For weeks, Mother tried to find Tony. He had not
gone back to the law firm, and no one there had spoken to him. She even hired a
private investigator, but it was as if he had vanished into thin air. I could
only imagine what he must be going through. To find out that the man he loved
and admired his entire life was not his “real” father, and then to think that
he had come so close – millimeters close – to having “intercourse” with his
sister, I worried he might be on a downward spiral back into the despair he had
tried so hard to conquer.

I couldn’t stay there anymore. I was doing
nothing with my life but wallowing in my own misery. I decided to go to New
York – the city of my birth – and follow in my biological mother’s footsteps
and become an actress. I wanted a fresh start and said goodbye to Lexie and
began using Alex. Mother didn’t want me to go, but after I convinced her it was
not because I couldn’t forgive her (although I couldn’t help but be angry) she
accepted it. She helped me get settled in an apartment in Chelsea and a job as
a hostess at one of the most elite restaurants in Midtown Manhattan.

I had been living in New York about six months
when I realized I was totally, madly, passionately in love – with the city
itself. Oh, yes, I had become obsessed with the skyline and the bright lights
of Broadway just as so many other young actors had before me; but I even loved
the grime of Times Square, and the Punks of CBGB. Once again, I had walked into
an entirely different world.

Now well-established in my new world and
lifestyle – auditions by day, the restaurant by night – I finally got my first
part, the role of Louise in an off-off-off-Broadway production of Gypsy. I
still had not gotten over Tony, and I asked Mother if she had heard from him
every time we spoke. Only time heals wounds of the heart, and Tony had taught
me that time was too precious to waste on tears. Perhaps this attitude allowed
me to submit so easily to infatuation.

One evening at the restaurant, I had worn my
best dress because we had been told a VIP would be dining with us that evening.
For this, I loved my job. I relished the idea that someday I could tell my
children that I had met a duke. They need not know he was eighty-seven and
barely spoke to me. I had always aimed for an exciting life, even as a child.

Wearing my low-cut, ritzy, satin red gown and
wearing some of Mother’s jewelry, which she had sent and refused to take back,
I felt sophisticated and kind of sexy. No, very sexy. About eight o’clock, a
handsome, tall gentleman, perhaps forty, with dark hair and eyes and a sensuous
smile walked in.

“Hello,” he said quizzically in a strong
British accent as his eyes traveled slowly from my shoes up to my face.

“Good evening. May I help you? I’m Alex
Hollingsworth, your hostess.”

He took my hand in his and brought it to his
lips. “A pleasure, Miss Hollingsworth. I do hope it is Miss.”

I smiled. “Yes, it is.”

“Then would you think me forward if I asked you
to marry me?” I tried to laugh off my blush but managed to giggle like all of
my nineteen years. He still rubbed my hand in his. “All right, if not marriage,
what of dinner tomorrow night?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“Lunch?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Then come to my hotel with me tonight, and we
shall share breakfast in the morning.”

I smiled and shook my head. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you rejecting me like this? Can you
not see I have fallen completely head over heels in love with you?”

“We are not allowed to privately associate with
our guests.”

“Then I shall have you fired.”

“I really couldn’t see you then!”

“Why not?”

“I’d have to look for another job.”

He released my hand and looked away. “James.”
He called for Mr. Caine, the manager and my boss, who hurried over to us.

“Yes, sir! How good to see you again. I hope
everything is to your satisfaction.” Mr. Caine practically fell over himself
wanting to please this man.

“Thank you, James, everything is perfect.” Then
he eyed me. “Although I do have one complaint.”

“By all means, sir, how can I help you?”

“I have become entranced with this young woman
who refuses my invitation to dinner because she is under your employ.”

“Well, yes, sir, that is the policy. Of course,
rules are made to be broken. The young lady has my consent, though it is her
choice.”

“Thank you, James. You have made me a terribly
happy man. That is,” he turned to me, “if you will accept.”

“I…” I didn’t know what to do. I looked to my
boss for advice, but he had already walked away.

His hand came to my face and turned my head
back to him. Before I knew it, he kissed me! I was so stunned, I couldn’t
respond. I couldn’t even decide if I was offended or thrilled.

“I shall pick you up at eight tomorrow.”

“But I’ll be working.”

“I shall take care of it. I hope you will wear
something as lovely as the dress you have on this evening.”

I felt light-headed, as if in a trance. “I…I
don’t even know your name.”

“Robert. Robert Wallace.”

“Robert Wallace,” I repeated. Then it hit me.
“Robert Wallace? Your grace, we have been expecting you.”

He stepped close to me so our faces were only
inches apart and grasped my arm, firm but not harsh. “Dammit, don’t do that,”
he said in a low voice. “No matter what my title is, I am just an ordinary man
who desperately wants you.”

I decided. I was thrilled.

The next night had to be one of the most
wonderful in my life. He picked me up in his limousine, where we drank
champagne and I had my first taste of caviar. Then we went to dinner followed
by dancing. When I thought the night was coming to an end, he brought me to
Rockaway where we sat on the beach drinking champagne.

He had quizzed me almost non-stop through the
evening, and I told him everything about losing my parents and moving to
Virginia. I told him about Molly being killed last year and Tad being found
right after. He went from being sympathetic to horrified as I related my tale.

“When did you come to New York?”

“About six months ago.”

“Why did you decide to make the change?”

What could I tell him? The truth would be too
painful to speak and too shocking to hear. “Please, I’m bored talking about
myself. Could we change the subject?”

He stretched out beside me, reclining with his
head braced on his hand, and looked up at me. “You never once mentioned love.
Haven’t you ever fallen in love? Has there never been anyone special in your
life?”

The pain bubbled up from deep inside me. “What
is it you want from me? Why are you always throwing love in my face?” I could
feel the cynicism flowing through my lips.

“Ooh…you are quite young to be so bitter.” He
touched my hair gently. “You have answered my question. If this is not the
right time for me to become involved with you, just tell me.”

I couldn’t stop the tear that slowly fell down
my cheek. “You understand. Don’t you?”

“I understand more than you will ever know.”

He moved his hand from my hair down to between
my shoulder blades and pushed me down into his embrace. He kissed me, gentle at
first but then deeply, and his lips were as sensuous as they had first
appeared. I had forgotten how wonderful it felt to be held this close, to feel
a man’s breath within me. As we lay there in the sand, his hand began to roam,
and I pulled away.

“Is it the wrong time?”

“No, actually, the timing is perfect. I’m just
not used to moving this quickly.”

He rubbed his finger along my jaw. “Of course, my
sweet Virginia girl.”

*****

Alice walked down the hall aligned with doors
emblazoned with the names of the soap stars, headed to Eileen’s dressing room,
and had no intention of, yet couldn’t help overhearing Jack talk to Peter with
his door ajar.

“So I heard a bunch of the cast is going to
eighties night at this club in West Hollywood. Are you going?”

Alice came to a halt in the middle of the hall and
squeezed her eyes shut speaking softly to herself. “Oh, please say no. Oh,
please say no.”

“Eighties night…in West Hollywood? You cannot be
serious,” Peter said, and Alice offered up a silent prayer of thanks. “I cannot
think of any more deplorable waste of an evening.”

“Come on; it’ll be fun. There’ll be dancing, and
it would be good for you to get better acquainted with the other actors.”

“If you are planning to go, then I am certain it
is because my new
sister
will be there.”

“What? Oh, well, yeah. Sienna, I mean Giselle said
I should come. Don’t tell me you’re still pissed off about that.”

Alice strained to hear, even squinting as though
that would help, but Peter didn’t respond to Jack’s last comment.

“You know I hate to dance,” he said, “especially
to eighties music. That has to have been the worst decade in the history of
music. And why should I become acquainted with the other actors on this
soap
opera
? I’m only here temporarily.”

Alice jumped when Eileen burst out of her dressing
room and yelled her name.
Shit.
She hoped Peter and Jack didn’t figure
out she’d been eavesdropping.

“Oh, yes, it’s ladies night,” Eileen sang out,
“and it’s eighties night. Yes, it’s eighties night, and the mood is right.” She
came up beside Alice, with arms raised and snapping in time to her improvised
song, and bumped her hip against Alice’s, and Alice had no choice but to bump
back.

As Eileen continued to sing, melding her own
lyrics into a medley with “we need the bump – gotta have the bump,” Alice
laughed as they bent their knees and bumped harder until Peter’s door opened
wide, and he and Jack stepped out into the hall just in time to see the tail
end of their performance.

“So I gather you’ll both be there tonight?” Jack
asked.

“Wouldn’t miss it!” Alice’s words rolled out with
her laughter. “You coming, Jack?”

“Yeah, Giselle invited me. Sounds like fun.”

“So, Miss McGillicutty,” Peter said, amused
skepticism in his tone and flickering on the corners of his mouth, “you enjoy
this eighties music.”

Alice flared her eyes at him in challenge. “Sure,
why not? Eighties music is awesome. I might even dress up like Madonna.”

He tilted his head and arched his eyebrow. “With a
cone bra?”

“No, that’s nineties Madonna. I’m talking about
eighties Madonna, with the lace gloves and rosaries.”

“I think Madonna is
in
her eighties by
now.”

“It’s just for fun. I guess you wouldn’t understand.”

Jack glanced at his watch then tapped Peter on the
shoulder. “We need to go if we’re going to pick up Winnie.”

“Yes,” Alice said. “You wouldn’t want to keep
Winnie waiting. I’ll see you tonight, Jack,” she called out over Peter’s
shoulder.

“I’ll see you there as well,” Peter said before
turning to go, and a chill rushed over Alice. Then Peter looked back at Eileen.
“Oh, and, by the way, it’s ‘We Need the Funk’ – not bump – and it’s from the
seventies, not eighties.” Then he walked away, with Alice stunned, speechless,
and frozen in place.

“C’mon, Alice,” Eileen said. “We need to go, too.”

“Crap! Why the hell is
he
coming? I
specifically heard him tell Jack that he hated the eighties. He called it a
‘deplorable waste of an evening.’ I can’t believe he’d change his mind.”

Eileen smiled at her friend with brows raised.
“Oh, can’t you, now?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Mmmhmm. Go ahead, play coy with me. He changed
his mind when he found out you were coming.”

Alice rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. He
despises me for turning him into Sienna’s brother. The only time he even speaks
to me is to criticize. He has nothing but contempt for me and everything to do
with the show.”

“If you say so,” Eileen said, her intonations like
notes on a xylophone.

“For an actress, you don’t sound very convincing.”

*****

Duran Duran poured out from the glittering dance
floor as Eileen and Alice walked in to the nightclub, late as usual. Most of
the cast and a few members of the crew were already there and had claimed several
tables near a large circular booth. Where
he
sat. With
her
.
Winnie had her arms crossed and stared away from, well, everything, petulance
painted on her face as heavily as her make-up. The flashing lights danced on
the sweat beaded on Peter’s forehead, and his expression dripped with boredom
as he scanned the room. Then his gaze landed on Alice, and their eyes locked.
She hated her own circulatory system for rushing blood into her cheeks.
Damnit,
does he have to look at me with those movie star eyes?

Eileen freed her from his spell by seizing her
arm. “Alice,” she yelled over the music but directly into Alice’s ear, making
her cringe. “Let’s go get a drink.”

“Yes!”

Jack and Giselle were chatting together at the bar
when she and Eileen walked up, and they stood and hugged as if they hadn’t just
been together a few hours before.

“How has the music been?” Alice asked them. “Have
you been dancing?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “The DJ is good. All eighties
dance music, as you’d expect.”

“You missed ‘Holiday,’” Giselle told her.

Alice shrugged. “That’s not one of my favorites.
I’ll wait until ‘Get Into the Groove’ or ‘Like a Prayer.’”

“So I hear you’re quite the Madonna fan,” Jack
said

She shook her head then ordered a Jack Daniels
& ginger ale from the bartender. “My mother –
huge
Madonna fan. I
guess I kind of inherited it from her. I uh…” The bartender handed her a
plastic cup full of ice with a splash of tan liquid. She focused on her drink
as tiny prickles of emotion moved up the back of her nose to behind her eyes. “It,
uh, makes me feel close to her. Funny how even happy memories can make you feel
sad.”