Thursdays At Eight (26 page)

LIZ KENYON

L
iz had never purchased a vehicle of her own. Her car had been new six years ago; after Steve's death, she'd replaced the car destroyed in the accident with one identical to her husband's. She'd given her own car to Brian and driven the new one—for six years now. It had never occurred to her to purchase anything else. Never dawned on her that she might have distinct tastes and preferences.

Now she wanted a car of her own choice. She had the extras, the options and the color selected, but had yet to decide on make and model. The one person she could trust to guide her was Clare, who knew more about automobiles than Liz ever cared to learn.

They met at the dealership one hot August morning; Liz had stopped by on her way to work. Clare walked around the lot with her, pointing out the advantages of one style over another.

“So you're still determined to drive out to Oklahoma by yourself?” Clare said once she'd finished the tour.

Liz glanced away so Clare couldn't see her smile. She was
astonished that a woman who managed an entire dealership, cared for her dying ex-husband, maintained a home and looked after two children, would ask such a question. “You seem skeptical. I
can
make the trip on my own, you know.”

“You can do anything you put your mind to,” Clare said, doing a quick about-face.

“Then why the concern?” They paused in front of a used two-year-old Seville in the very pearl-white color Liz preferred.

Clare shrugged off the question. “I was wondering if it's safe for you to be traveling alone, that's all.”

“Why not? I'm not going to take any unnecessary risks. I have three weeks' vacation, so I've got the time for an extended trip. Besides, I happen to enjoy driving on the open road.”

“What does your daughter think?”

“Same as you. She's afraid it's not safe. I haven't even pulled out of the driveway yet and already she's worrying.”

“Well, maybe you should listen and just book a flight,” Clare suggested.

“I could,” Liz said as she strolled between the vehicles. She paused and looked back at the Seville. The sleek lines of the vehicle and the color were perfect, and the car had all the options she wanted; not only that, it was still under warranty. Liz sighed. She was definitely considering the Seville, but everything would be easier if she didn't have so many cars to choose from. The choices confused her, and every time she saw one she liked, it was more money than she wanted to spend or, if used, had too many miles to suit her.

“But you won't fly, will you?”

“Probably not,” Liz agreed, walking back to the Cadillac Seville and looking inside the driver window.

“What does Sean have to say?”

So Clare was pulling her trump card, and far sooner than
Liz had anticipated. “What does he say?” she repeated. “Actually, he hasn't said a thing.”

Clare's gaze narrowed. “You haven't told him, have you?”

“Is there any reason I should?” Liz knew she sounded defensive, but she couldn't help it. To think Clare would suggest she submit her vacation plans to a man, any man, for approval! It was laughable.

“He isn't going to like it,” Clare said, crossing her arms and exhaling slowly. “And you know it.”

“Then he can take a number and stand in line like everyone else.” She opened the Seville's door and slipped behind the wheel. Although the vehicle was two years old, it smelled of new leather. Liz adjusted the seat and placed her hands on the steering wheel.

“This is a beautiful car,” she murmured. “And it's comfortable.” She took a deep breath, relieved to have made a decision. “I'll take it.”

Clare stared at her as though she hadn't heard. “Don't you want to test-drive it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Liz, I can't let you pay sticker price. You're supposed to haggle with me.”

“Why would I haggle?” Liz asked. “You're one of my best friends. If I can't trust you to be fair with me, then who can I trust? You're giving me a good trade-in value and this is a great price.” She got out of the car. “Let me know what the total comes to and I'll write you a check.” She headed toward her old car, which she'd left parked in front of the dealership.

“Where are you going?” Clare called after her.

“To work. I'm already late. Phone me when you've got the paperwork ready.”

Clare hurried after her. “Think about what I said.”

“Which part?”

“Just tell Sean, would you?”

Liz frowned. Naturally she'd tell Sean, but not until she was good and ready.

The office was buzzing with activity by the time Liz arrived. She breezed past Cherie, who was on the phone. Her secretary stuck out her arm with the day's mail. Liz took it from her without missing a stride.

When she entered her office, she was surprised to find Sean sitting behind her desk, his long legs outstretched, hands locked behind his head.

“About time you got here,” he said, granting her one of his sexiest smiles.

“Is it, now? Have I kept you waiting long?”

“Yes, about six months, but we won't go into that.”

Liz rolled her eyes; any reaction would only encourage him.

“I take it you have a reason for being here?” she asked, sorting through the mail as she stood beside her desk.

Cherie came into the room with a cup of coffee, which she handed to Liz. “Would you like a cup, as well, Dr. Jamison?” she asked hesitantly.

“Dr. Jamison is on his way out,” Liz informed her secretary.

“Actually I'd love a cup,” he murmured, but Cherie had already left.

Liz walked around to her chair. “Sean, I've got a million things to do and I can't do a one of them with you here.”

“Hey, don't worry about my ego or anything,” he muttered.

“You have a perfectly healthy ego.”

“Aren't you going to ask me what I want?”

“Not on your life.” Open-ended questions were his forte, and she'd learned the hard way to avoid them.

“A little birdie told me you're planning to drive to Oklahoma on your own.”

“Clare?” The traitor! She'd never have believed her friend would go behind her back.

“Clare knows?”

“Who told you?” Liz demanded, in no mood for games.

“Your daughter phoned me.”

“Amy?” Liz sputtered. “How
could
she?”

“And that isn't the only secret she revealed.”

Liz could well imagine. “I apologize. Trust me, it won't happen again.” She led him to the door and held it open for him. “Sean, please, I'm busy.”

“Places to go and people to meet?” he said pointedly.

“Yes,” she replied with equal emphasis. “Now get out of here.”

“We're not through with this discussion.”

They were as far as Liz was concerned. She playfully shoved him out the door and closed it. No sooner had she done so than the door opened again and Sean stuck his head inside.

He gave her a hangdog look and she laughed and leaned forward so they could kiss. And what a kiss it was. When they finished, Liz's knees were shaking and her head spinning.

“Dinner tonight?” he asked. “O'Shaunessey's?”

Liz needed a moment before responding. “Six o'clock?”

He nodded and was gone.

Smiling softly to herself, Liz tore into her day.

At five-forty-five, just as she was about to leave the office, Sean returned.

“I thought I was meeting you at O'Shaunessey's?” she said.

“You still can if you want,” he told her, stepping toward her desk, “but I have something I want to discuss with you first.”

“Fire away.” She gestured toward the chair.

He remained standing. “I've been thinking about our conversation this morning.”

Liz wrinkled her brow; she couldn't recall that anything of importance had been said.

“About you driving to Oklahoma by yourself,” he quickly filled in.

Everyone
was taking her to task about this, and she didn't like it. Before he could elaborate, she held up one hand. “Sean, don't even start.”

“Too late. Liz,” he said sternly, “it isn't going to happen. You aren't going alone.”

Liz frowned at him.

“I'm coming with you.”

Coming with her?
“I beg your pardon? I don't remember inviting you.”

“You don't have to. I've invited myself.”

This took the notorious Jamison arrogance to a whole new level. “Sean!”

“Amy and I talked it over,” he said, “and this seemed like the best solution. I haven't had a real vacation in ten years. If you want to drive, that's fine by me.”

“You and
Amy
discussed this?”

He nodded, looking exceedingly pleased with himself. “I like her. She's a lot like her mother—smart, witty, beautiful.”

“You've never met my daughter. How do you know what she looks like?”

“She sounds beautiful. Besides, how can she not be? She's your daughter.”

All these months they'd been seeing each other and not once had Sean said she was beautiful. The compliment, although backhanded, robbed her of any witty reply.

“You know what else Amy suggested?” Apparently more relaxed now, he threw himself down in the chair. “She said she wished you'd marry me.”

“She didn't!” If ever there was a blatant lie, this was it. Amy would
never
suggest such a thing.

“She did so,” he said.

Liz stared at him, hardly knowing how to react. Then it dawned on her that he just might be serious. They'd never discussed making their relationship permanent. “Is this a proposal, Sean?”

The laughter faded from his eyes; her question appeared to catch him off-guard. He gazed at her a full minute, then muttered, “I don't know.”

Neither did Liz.

“I hope you decide to let me take this trip with you,” he said, standing now and heading toward the door. He seemed in a rush all of a sudden, as though he regretted introducing the subject of marriage.

Liz reached for her purse, locked up and followed him out. “The truth is, I didn't really want to go alone, but there wasn't anyone I could ask to join me.”

“I'm volunteering,” he said, taking her hand and placing it in the crook of his elbow.

“Then I'd very much enjoy the pleasure of your company.”

He looked as if he were about to kiss her, then hesitated. “How would you feel about a small side trip?”

“Side trip?” she repeated. “Sure. Where do you want to go?”

“Seattle.”

“Seattle?”

Sean slapped the side of his head. “This room has developed an echo.”

Laughing, she lightly punched his upper arm. “I'd love to visit Seattle. I hear it's beautiful.”

“I think it's time you met my daughter.” He shook his head.

“Actually I think it's time I met her, as well. It's been nearly eight years since I saw her. A lot has changed.”

Which meant he had yet to see his granddaughter. Liz could tell this trip was going to be one grand adventure.

They started slowly down the corridor. Everyone else who worked in the administrative offices had already left. “Did you mean what you said about me being beautiful?” she asked shamelessly, wanting to hear him say it again.

He shrugged. “You're not bad on the eyes.”

“Well, thank you very much. You aren't either.”

“I know.”

Liz groaned aloud.

“Hey, are we going to share a hotel room on the drive?” He waggled his eyebrows outrageously.

“I think not.”

“You are such a prude.”

Liz enjoyed their banter, enjoyed these conversations in which they both gave as good as they got. “Perhaps I am, but you love me, anyway.”

Sean chuckled. “Yes, I suppose I do.”

KAREN CURTIS

September 1st

I
barely slept last night. Gwen had her secretary phone me Friday morning to ask for a meeting. When my agent calls, I'm there. Something inside me said she wanted to discuss my audition for the sitcom and I was right. The whole time I was driving into L.A.—and traffic was a bitch—I had this premonition that I'd gotten the role.

Any other time in the past four years I would've been
so
excited. But it wasn't excitement I felt. Instead, I experienced a crazy sort of letdown feeling. Get real! I mean, a television role is what I've wanted my entire life, what I've worked so hard to achieve, what I've sacrificed and struggled for.

By the time I found parking and made my way into Gwen's office building, my stomach was full of knots. That was when it hit me. My head was telling me I should be jumping up and down for joy, and my body was telling me something com
pletely different. It took me a while to connect with my feelings and realize that I didn't want the role.

I stopped in the rest room, washed my face with cold water and stared at myself in the mirror. I don't know what I expected to see because the face that stared back at me wasn't any different. Somehow, I felt it should be….

A weekly television show is the opportunity of a lifetime and worth thousands and thousands of dollars, in fees and residuals. I didn't understand what was happening to me or why I'd hesitate.

Then again, perhaps I did.

The last couple of weeks with the drama class at Willow Grove High School have been
fabulous.
I love the kids and I see so much of myself in them. Myself, ten years ago, that is. Creative, talented, passionate and totally in love with the idea of self-expression.

It's more than just teaching that I've enjoyed. Since I've been at the same school as Glen, we've eaten lunch together every day. I love being around him, love the way I feel, or more accurately the way he makes me feel. It's as if I'm the funniest, wittiest, most attractive woman in the world. No man has
ever
made me feel as special as he does.

I remember when we first met and how I wanted to make sure he understood I was only interested in being his friend. No romance; I wanted fireworks. What I wanted—or thought I wanted—was a man just like me. Glen didn't seem passionate enough. Hard to believe I could have been that blind. Glen is so great. I really admire him. Not only is he brilliant, he's gentle and honorable and…I never thought I'd find this an attractive trait in a man, but he's humble. Yes, humble. We've gone out a couple of times since our movie date and both times I've been the one to suggest it. When I casually led up to the subject of getting together, he seemed genuinely surprised and pleased.

Later, when I came right out and told him I'd welcome an invitation, it flustered him so much he asked me to chaperon one of the school dances with him. Then he decided that wasn't the kind of date I'd probably want and withdrew the invitation. It took me five minutes of teasing to make him believe I'd
love
to chaperon a dance with him. Any dance. Anywhere. Any day of the week. (Although I didn't mention that part.)

Well, to make a long story short, when I arrived at Gwen's office, her secretary ushered me into the inner sanctum where my agent awaited. All my worry was for naught. I didn't get the role. In fact, Gwen had viewed the audition tape herself and was disappointed in my performance. She suggested a series of classes for me. In other words I am no longer meeting her expectations. That was the reason she wanted to meet personally with me. I was being put on notice, so to speak.

I didn't sleep well on Friday, and now I'm afraid tonight's going to be an exact repeat.

 

The phone woke Karen out of a deep sleep. It took her a moment to realize the ringing wasn't actually part of her dream. Lying on her stomach, she stretched out her arm and groped blindly for the receiver. She opened her eyes just enough to glance at her clock radio and saw that it was just past 1:00 a.m. She hadn't even slept an hour and groaned at having her rest interrupted, especially when she'd had such a hard time falling asleep.

None of her friends would think twice about calling her any time, day or night. Okay, maybe not Glen, but then he was an exception to just about everything.

“This better be good,” she muttered into the mouthpiece.

“Karen?” The timid voice was fragile and breathless.

“Victoria?” Instantly alert, Karen sat up, blinking rapidly. “Where are you?”

“Home—can you come and get me and Bryce?”

“Of course.” Her response was automatic. Then it dawned on her that something must be terribly wrong if her sister was phoning her in the middle of the night, asking for a ride. “Are you all right?”

Victoria didn't answer.

“What happened? Tell me.” Panic filled her throat.

“I might need you to take me to the hospital.”

Karen was off the bed and pacing with the cordless phone in her hand. So this time Roger had gone too far. This time Victoria had had enough. She prayed her sister would press assault charges, prayed she'd leave him for good. “Where's Roger?”

“He's…asleep. Just hurry.”

“I'll be there in fifteen minutes,” she promised rashly. Never in her life had Karen dressed faster. She pulled on sweats, then shoved her feet into tennis shoes without bothering to tie them. Not until she was in her car did she wonder why her sister hadn't simply left on her own. There was something Victoria hadn't told her.

Coming to a red light, Karen stopped and looked both ways; she didn't see any traffic in either direction. Unwilling to waste time waiting for the traffic signal to proceed through its cycle, she ran the light. Halfway through the intersection, she caught sight of a police car.

“Great, just great,” she muttered. A heartbeat later, the patrol car was behind her, lights flashing.

Karen pulled over to the side of the deserted street and reached for her purse, extracting her driver's license even before the officer arrived.

As he approached her vehicle, Karen rolled down her window.

“Good evening,” he said politely. “Did you happen to notice that the light at the intersection of Universal and Sixth was red?”

“Yes.” She wasn't going to lie.

“So why the hurry?”

“My sister…” Karen started to explain, then realized this could be the most opportune event of her life. “Officer, listen, I realize I deserve a traffic ticket.” She talked fast, hoping to get everything out without stopping to answer a lot of unnecessary questions. “I won't try to talk you out of giving it to me.”

He raised his eyebrows. “This is a refreshing tactic.”

“My sister just phoned me and…and I'm afraid her husband beat her again. She asked that I come and get her….” Karen swallowed hard, knowing that if she involved the police she was going against her sister's wishes. Victoria wouldn't want her talking to the authorities. But she'd begged for help and this was the best way Karen knew to provide it.

“My brother-in-law is physically abusive,” she continued, “and I don't know exactly what the situation is right now.” Nor was she comfortable walking into circumstances that had the potential to be explosive. If Roger had no qualms about hitting his wife, he probably wouldn't hesitate to attack his sister-in-law. Especially a sister-in-law he considered an interfering bitch.

The young patrol officer asked her a few questions, returned to his vehicle for a moment and then walked back to her car. “The address you gave me is out of my area. A patrol car has been dispatched and will meet you there.”

“Thank you.” Karen was so grateful she felt like sobbing. “Can I leave now?”

He nodded, and gave her a written warning as well as a verbal one. She drove off immediately, careful to stay within the speed limit. She hoped she arrived at her sister's before the police did so she could explain to Victoria what she'd done and
why. It'd taken tremendous courage for Victoria to call her, and Karen didn't want to destroy her fragile trust.

The outside lights were on when she turned into the driveway. As soon as she did, Victoria opened the front door. She held Bryce with her left arm, her right arm cradled against her side.

Karen leaped out of the car and hurried forward to help her sister and nephew.

“What happened to your arm?” Karen demanded.

“Daddy hit me real hard,” Bryce sobbed, “then he pulled Mommy's arm.”

So Roger had taken to hitting his son. Victoria had accepted the abuse for herself, but now that her husband had begun to hurt their child, she'd drawn the line.

“How bad is it?” Karen asked, wondering if she needed to get her sister to the hospital immediately.

“It doesn't matter. Let's go.” Victoria's voice was edged with panic. “Please, it's all right.”

“Mommy, Mommy?” Bryce started to cry louder.

“Everything will be fine, sweetheart.” Victoria comforted him in soft tones. “Auntie Karen's here to take us to her house.”

Karen ushered the two of them toward her car and was fastening Bryce's seat belt when she heard Roger's shout.

“What the hell do you think you're doing, bitch?”

“Go,” Victoria cried.

“No.” Karen turned to face her brother-in-law, who stood in the open doorway, his hands on his hips.

Swearing and clearly drunk, Roger stumbled down the steps and started toward his family. He was in a rage, his face red and twisted with anger. He stared at Karen, and then Victoria, who huddled protectively over her son in the back of Karen's vehicle.

“Stay out of this,” he warned Karen.

“I wasn't going to say a word.”

Her response apparently surprised him, because his gaze wavered from his wife and son to briefly clash with hers.

How dared he hurt her sister! How dared he strike a child! “You're a pitiful excuse for a man,” she said contemptuously.

He swore again and lunged at her. Karen was quick on her feet and managed to avoid his swing. Victoria screamed. Unfortunately, when Karen moved, she gave Roger access to his wife. Cursing, he reached inside the car and yanked on Victoria's arm.

Victoria let out a shrill cry of pain.

Hardly aware of what she was doing, Karen leaped onto Roger's back, pounding him with both fists. Everyone was shouting at once, Bryce was crying and Roger was bucking and heaving in an effort to throw Karen off.

Out of the corner of her eye, Karen saw the patrol car pull up to the curb and released her frantic hold on her brother-in-law. That gave him the slack he needed to strike out at her. She didn't see the punch coming until it was too late. He got her square in the jaw, hitting with enough force to knock her to the ground.

Almost immediately, the two police officers had Roger in a tight grasp. They dragged him away, toward their car. Roger's demeanor altered instantly.

“Officers,” he said, sounding completely sober. “I'm glad you're here.”

“Sure you are, Roger,” Karen shouted back, although her jaw ached just from talking and she still felt so dizzy she thought she might faint.

While one officer spoke with him, the second approached Karen. “Can you tell me what's going on here?” he asked.

“My sister…” Karen pointed to Victoria, who climbed out of the car, holding Bryce against her left side.

“This is all my fault,” Victoria sobbed.

“It
isn't
your fault!” Karen yelled, afraid that now, with the police involved, her sister would change her mind.

“I should never have called you,” Victoria said.

Then they were talking at the same time, each one struggling to be heard over the other. Karen was trying to explain why the police were there, and Victoria kept insisting she was to blame. Roger was shouting, too.

“Who's married to whom here?” the older of the two officers asked.

It took several minutes to sort out the details. As she listened, Karen couldn't help thinking that her brother-in-law was the one who deserved a career on the stage. According to him, Karen was a meddlesome troublemaker intent on breaking up his marriage. He wanted to press charges against her for a malicious attack on his person. While it was true he'd struck out at her, he said, he'd only been defending himself. When he finished, he demanded that the police haul her away.

For one confused and crazy minute, that seemed about to happen. Then Victoria stepped forward.

“I…I phoned my sister…” she said in a small, hesitant voice.

“All right, all right,” Roger said, staring at Victoria. “I'll be willing to drop the assault charges against your sister if you'll agree to put this…this incident behind us.”

“You've got to be joking,” Karen yelled.

Roger ignored her. “I'll admit I did get upset with my wife earlier and I probably overreacted.” He turned to the officers, laughing as if it'd all been a misunderstanding that had gotten out of hand. He regretted his annoyance, he said; the last thing he wanted was to turn it into a federal case.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart,” Roger said next, looking at Victoria again and sounding eminently reasonable. “I really do regret
this. There's no need to get the police involved in a family matter, is there? You don't want this, and neither do I.”

Victoria bit her lower lip, her eyes cast down. She actually seemed to be considering his words.

Karen didn't know what she'd say or do if her sister decided to go back to this bastard. She noticed that the neighbors' houses were now blazing with light. Great—an audience.

“I'm sorry, too,” Victoria whispered.

Roger relaxed and glanced toward the police officers again. “A man works hard all week. Is it too much to ask that his wife have his dinner ready when he gets back from a Saturday golf game with clients?” He made a good-natured question out of it, but Karen heard the censure. In his view, this
was
all Victoria's fault.