Briefly, she thought back to her conversation with Marcia when she had said Jim wouldn’t allow her to work for another studio. His sister-in-law had told her she would end up working for his studio. That’s what she’d meant, that by working for another studio she would somehow embarrass him, make him look a fucking idiot, but why? Tasha was clueless as to why he would object and then she remembered Maisie’s words about Jim needing to be in control and it all began to make sense. Not that she wanted to simply bend to his will without question. She wanted to enjoy her independence. Now she had it, now Jim had facilitated her accessing it, she wanted to make her own choices and decisions.
She had hung up on him, well, terminated the connection. She laughed nervously and thought he would be seriously pissed off with her now. More infuriated than ever. Another laugh left her lips as she reached for her phone, wondering if she should call him. Possibly not yet. He might need a little longer to calm down so she’d get showered and dressed before doing anything.
She was dressed and making a sandwich when she carefully composed a text. Having essentially dumped him it took several attempts before she was happy with the words on her screen.
She waited, but no reply was forthcoming. However, as it was five a.m. in L.A. she tried not to read too much into that.
During the meeting with Jerome Stewart, Tasha ran through the details of what had happened the night before and after completing her statement with the police she returned home and was surprised there was still no reply from Jim. Maybe he was still sleeping. It was nine a.m. in L.A. now and although she had never known him to sleep in this late she couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t. After all, he had said he wasn’t due in the office until lunchtime.
She decided to text him again.
She made a cup of coffee and tidied the lounge and kitchen before checking her phone again. Still nothing. He was obviously ignoring her now. This was stupid. She could text him an I am coming to L.A. now message, but knew it wouldn’t be as threatening as his, I will come to London threat. “Right, let’s talk,” she said to herself.
She picked up her phone and selected the number for his mobile which went straight to voice mail. Next she tried the house number that was answered immediately by Sandra.
“Hi, Sandra, it’s Tasha. Is Jim around?” She tried to sound bright and bubbly.
“Erm, I erm,” the other woman replied nervously. “No, he’s not.”
Tasha laughed, not that she was amused by any of this. “Where is he?”
“He must have left for the office,” Sandra replied a little curtly.
“How odd. He told me he wasn’t in the office until lunchtime.” She sensed she had made Sandra uncomfortable.
“I wouldn’t know about that,” Sandra replied, sounding compromised more than uncomfortable now.
“No, of course you wouldn’t, sorry. Amanda will though, so I’ll call her. Bye.”
She hung up before immediately dialling his office.
“Good morning, Mr Maybury’s office, how may I help you?” Amanda shrilled down the phone.
“Good morning, Amanda, it’s Tasha Winters. Is Jim available?”
“Oh hi Tasha. He’s not in yet. I’m not expecting him until lunchtime.”
“Of course, he did say, but I’d forgotten, sorry. I’ll try him at home, but before I go could you email me the details of Jim’s flight and hotel booking? He was supposed to ask you this morning, but obviously he’s not there.” She laughed, attempting to sound natural, but was unsure why she was even asking for his flight details, keeping up the pretence to herself that he wasn’t avoiding her.
“Of course. I can do it while you’re on the line. He is very excited about his trip to London.”
Tasha was unsure what she should say so simply laughed and asked, “How are his moods?”
Amanda laughed with her. “Swinging. I probably shouldn’t say this, but I have known him a long time and I have never seen him like this before. You have really got under his skin, Tasha.”
“Is that a good thing though?” Tasha was unsure who she was asking.
“Yes, I think so. He can be a very difficult man, but when you’re around he is calmer.”
Amanda’s words could be construed as being indiscreet, but then maybe this was Amanda, the ex-wife talking to her rather than the P.A. Although she was clueless as to what the difference was.
Tasha laughed again. “Then I apologise in advance because he is likely to be in a bitch of a mood today.”
“Oh dear. I will be sure to keep my head down this afternoon and have the Kleenex ready for his afternoon meetings.”
Tasha actually thought she could like Amanda, and if she was going to be in Jim’s life she might need to maintain this type of relationship with her, but the jury was out on whether Tasha still had a place in Jim’s life.
“I have emailed the flight and hotel reservation to you and I have included you on the reservation,” she added.
“Thank you.”
“Will we see you at the studio when you come back to L.A.?
“I don’t know, maybe.” She simply hoped she’d be coming back.
“I hope so. If you need anything else, just let me know.”
“I will. Maybe we could meet up for lunch when I come out?” suggested Tasha for no reason she knew.
“I would love to. If it’s okay with Mr Maybury.”
“I can’t think why he would object. Anyway, thank you Amanda, bye.”
Jim was avoiding her. She knew that for sure now, but at least she knew when he was due, unless he cancelled. Shit, maybe that was it for him now. Had she gone too far? Fuck, no, she didn’t mean she wouldn’t be his lucky seven. That someone else should be. That was the last thing she wanted. She picked her phone up and selected ‘J home’ again.
Sandra answered once more.
“Sandra, it’s Tasha again. I don’t want to say anything to make you uncomfortable so please just put me on speaker.”
“Speaker?” she asked, making it rather obvious she was letting Jim know what she’d asked meaning he was at home.
“Yes, Sandra, speaker.”
The sound of her voice over the phone line changed and she knew the other woman had done as she’d asked.
“Now, either I am going to get my message across or I am going to make a complete and utter prat of myself by speaking to an empty room, or worse still a full room, but possibly not the person I want to hear me. Here goes. Jim, please speak to me. This isn’t going to work if you won’t take my calls and discuss things. I am sorry for reacting the way I did, but there are some decisions I need to make for myself. That doesn’t mean I won’t discuss them with you or value your opinion and input, but I do need to make my own decisions about my work.”
She waited, allowing just long enough for him to respond, he didn’t, so she continued.
“I have thought about what you said and I can see your point about the L.A. studios, but I don’t fully understand why. My whole life has been spent having people use me. They have disregarded my feelings—no, worse than that, they didn’t even consider my feelings, only their own. After the last few days, all of those occasions are in the forefront of my mind, plaguing me. Which is why I said you should look elsewhere for your lucky seven. If you have changed your mind about us and think you’ve made a mistake with me then at least tell me. Don’t just ignore me and cut me off.” She allowed her voice to falter a little.
She paused again, but
this time it was to gather herself, to rein her emotions in, to keep them in check. If her tears began to flow now, she didn’t doubt she’d be totally incapable of getting all the words she had in her head out and she needed to say them, for him to hear them.
“Look, this is stupid, and I know I started it but I am twenty-one-years-old so I think I’m allowed to make juvenile mistakes, but what’s your excuse for your juvenile behaviour? If I don’t hear from you I will assume you have changed your mind about me and I will of course return your credit card, which is still sealed in its envelope and a cheque. You should advise Mr Stewart to direct his bills to me with immediate effect. But I love you, really, I do and the idea of anyone else being lucky seven makes me sick with sadness and jealousy,” she said, the tears no longer a threat as they began to trickle down her face as she hung up.
The ball was now firmly in his court and she would wait and see what happened, but she wouldn’t be contacting him again. She did have a little self-respect left and a little more self-preservation.
Her phone beeped and as she looked at it with high expectations she was disappointed as she saw the message was from Lucy.
Great. Now she had got a long lonely evening to look forward to. She could text Gerry, he would come over. No, really bad idea, Tash. Yes, Gerry would come rushing over and read far more into it and that would be unfair of her to lead him on, or God forbid get drunk and end up having a bit of a fumble or more because Jim would never forgive that and more than anything she wanted Jim. So, no Gerry. Maybe she needed to be alone. After all if Jim ended things or had already accepted her ending of things she would need to get used to spending evenings alone.
She could feel she was about to cry again, so did what any self-respecting girl nursing a broken heart would do; she put on immature pyjamas and watched a chick flick in bed with ice cream and wine.
Tasha was almost at the end of Dirty Dancing and halfway through a bottle of wine when she spoke along with the film, “Nobody, puts Baby in the corner,” she said and then began to cry. She looked at the empty ice cream tub. “They’ll put me in the bloody corner and leave me there because I will be too drunk and fat on ice cream to get out of it.”
She needed a Johnny to her Baby and she thought she’d found one in Jim, but apparently not. She was just about to pour another glass of wine when she thought of number six. Jim had said she’d had a drink problem before he married her, but had she or had he driven her to it, with his kinky ideas and rules?
None of them had been able to live up to his ideals:
Number one, Sara, the mother of the children. She had managed to remain friends, but they had the kids to consider, Maisie had confirmed that.
Number two and her bitter, barren womb had not remained a friend.
Number three, Maddie the porn star, who had committed several of the worst offences, letting other men see her, touch her, shag her. Although he had said none of them had been unfaithful so maybe not and of course she had done the unthinkable and messed with the children’s heads and feelings. No friendship there.
Number four, the accountant who wouldn’t shag him, so he married her and then she had been a big disappointment. Had she been conservative in her sexual appetite? That would not have suited Jim at all. Surely she’d never have been able to resist James Maybury when he was in full sexually predatory seduction mode. She herself had only resisted for hours and that had taken some doing, but number four was only seen in passing, maybe at studio things, whatever they could be, or in the supermarket. Did Jim go to the supermarket? Who knew? But another one to seemingly disappear.
Number five, Amanda, secretary to wife to P.A. and seemingly more than happy with her latest role. He obviously trusted her a great deal. He liked her, but seemed to be able to view her as someone other than his ex-wife. Indeed, he seemed to forget she’d ever been his wife.
Number six, depressed, crazy alcoholic, suicidal, how the fuck had he ended up with her? Maybe she was into the kinky stuff too, or just too pissed to object.
She giggled as she thought of their conversation earlier when he’d said about anal sex, and when he had first mentioned it in New York and had said about it being pleasurable. How did he know? Had the six done it? Sara didn’t look the sort, but they had been young and together for eight years so maybe. Number two, unlikely, unless that’s why she hadn’t got pregnant. Tasha laughed out loud at that notion. Number three, God yes, definitely. Number four, no. If she hadn’t shagged him within a month she was unlikely to take it up the arse. Amanda, she didn’t look the sort at all, no, she didn’t think so. Number six, maybe it depended on how drunk she was.
She laughed again at her own observations and as the closing titles rolled up the screen she leapt up and changed the DVD and put in My Girl. She really was depressed if she was resorting to a pair of eleven-year-old best friends who were perfect together until he got stung by bees and died. It always made her bawl like a big baby when he died. Proper shoulder heaving tears and snot bawling.
She began to sing along with The Temptations or whoever it was and as she got to the what can make me feel this way bit she put her face in her hands and sighed loudly at the mess she was in. Her phone at the side of her bed rang. She snatched it up ready to have an argument if someone was trying to sell her windows or utilities, or get her the compensation she was owed from a car crash she’d never had.
“Hello,” she snapped.
“Tasha, don’t hang up please,” said Jim.
She smiled. As if she would do that. She was desperate to hear from him.
“Are you okay?” he asked cautiously.
“If sitting in bed drinking cheap wine, eating ice cream, watching chick flicks and flitting between hysterical laughter and crying is fine, then yeah, perfect.”
“I’m sorry for not replying to your messages. I was a jerk, but you flipped, baby. You dumped me then disconnected. I was shocked, and really mad at you, but I still shouldn’t have ignored you.” He sounded contrite.
“So, where does that leave us?” Tasha asked, scared of the possible answer.
“It leaves us here, talking, unless you have had enough of this fucking, crazy bastard?” His voice held amusement now.
“No. I haven’t had enough of you. I’m not sure that’s possible, even if you are a fucking, crazy bastard. I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you too, but you were right, we need to find some middle ground where your work is concerned, but not over the phone.”
“Yeah, not over the phone. Where are you?”
“In the office. Amanda said you’d called.”
“I also told Sandra I would phone the office. That was the first time I called your house, before my public performance on speaker. I take it you were there, and I didn’t make a complete fool of myself.”
“Yeah, I was there, honey. I thought you were very clear and concise. Bobby thought you were very eloquent and reckons I should definitely marry you, even if you’ve quit.”
“Your brother was there?” Embarrassment seeped in now.
“Oh yeah. We played a round of golf first thing and came back for breakfast when you called. Sorry for not taking your first call.”
“He heard me spilling my guts? Sorry,” she repeated.
“Stop apologising, Tasha. He agreed that I was juvenile.” His voice was supportive and reassuring. “I really did act stupidly and was thoughtless. Of course, thoughts of the last few days, if not your whole life, are plaguing you, why wouldn’t they be? Go to your audition tomorrow. You need to work.”
“Yes I do, but are you sure?” She was desperate for him to mean it, not to simply be paying some kind of lip service.
“Yeah and we will deal with the outcome later.”
“Thank you.” Tasha suddenly felt as though she was going to cry again.
“Are you sure you�
��re okay?” he asked with genuine concern that he had caused her the emotional hurt she was still demonstrating.
“Yes, sorry. I think it might be the cheap wine going to my head.”
“Maybe. What time is it?”
“Half past ten.”
“Maybe you should go to sleep and text me in the morning. Oh, and I don’t want a cheque from you or your credit card back, just sign it, please. And for the record, I will never accept your resignation as my lucky seven.”
“I’ll sign it in the morning. Night night. I love you, and I don’t want you to find a new lucky seven, that was anger speaking,” she repeated, having already told him that on speaker.
“I’m not sure I deserve your love after today, but I love you too and there could never be any other lucky seven for me.”
“Then I mustn’t deserve your love with my ability to break all the promises and agreements I make.”
“Shall we call it quits for now then?”
“Definitely. I am going to sleep before I watch the rest of My Girl and cry like a big girl.”
“My Girl? You were that sure it was over?” he asked sadly.
“Yeah. I’d already done Dirty Dancing and it was Ghost next,” she laughed.
“Just so you know, if it had been over, I would have told you, but I want to hang onto you not lose you. Now, go to sleep.”
She hung up and smiled then, possibly courtesy of the alcohol, she fell asleep immediately.
Chapter 34
After enjoying a restful and full night’s sleep, Tasha arrived for her audition about half an hour early. She was reading for the part of a junior defence barrister in some new legal drama that traced criminal prosecutions from the offence to the trial. Apparently there would be a mix of serious crimes and the ludicrous side of the British legal system too. She was halfway through the short walk to the studio when her phone beeped.
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