The Movie

by Patti Beckman

  Kirk didn’t see her. He and Marsha had their heads together, talking earnestly, oblivious to anyone around them.

  Then the auditorium lights softened and the glamorous event got underway.

  Suspense mounted as the hours passed and nominations and awards were made. Oscars for The Last Encounter began piling up. Best cinematography. Best musical score. The Dentmens were awarded top honors for best screenplay.

  Ginny squealed when she won top award for best special effects. Tears were streaming down her cheeks when she made her acceptance speech. “I just wish my dad were still with us,” she said. “He was the greatest in the business. He taught me everything I know. Dad, this is for both of us,” she choked.

  Then came awards for supporting roles. “The winner of best supporting actress award—Marsha Sanders for her role of Nichole Nikova in The Last Encounter.” The audience responded with a burst of applause. Natalie felt a wrench of emotion as she watched the beautiful, dark-eyed girl leave her place beside Kirk to accept her prize. Was she living with Kirk now? Would they be married soon? Natalie tried to push the unbearable thoughts away.

  When it was time to make the award for top director, an actress on the stage opened the envelope, paused and then exclaimed, “Best director—Kirk Trammer for his work on The Last Encounter!”

  There was another sweep of applause through the auditorium. “Well, I have to admit he deserves it,” Tom Sacks muttered.

  Through a haze of tears, Natalie saw Kirk stride to the podium. She was surprised at the rush of warmth and pride she felt for Kirk.

  In his brief acceptance speech, he said, “This award belongs to all the people who worked so hard with me on the film. Natalie Brooks, we owe special thanks to you. Without you The Last Encounter never would have made it to the theaters.”

  He was looking across the room, straight at her when he said the words. She was riveted to her seat as if impaled by his flashing look. She was barely aware of the murmur that ran through the audience or the dozens of eyes turned in her direction.

  The moment left her dazed and weak. She had expected that seeing Kirk again would be an emotional ordeal. But she had not been prepared for this total devastation of her defenses. Kirk had done it again—left her emotions in ruins.

  She was almost relieved that she did not receive the award for best actress. She doubted if her legs would have taken her to the stage. Tom was less gracious about missing his chance. “Damn!” he muttered under his breath when another actor topped him for the coveted award.

  The evening came to a climax with the announcement of the winning movie of the year. There was little doubt in the audience as to what it would be. “Best picture of the year—The Last Encounter.”

  This time the applause was thunderous. Around Natalie, pandemonium broke loose. There was laughter, tears, hugs, kisses and handshakes.

  Somewhere in the hysteria of the moment, Natalie felt a firm hand on her arm. She turned and looked up into a pair of flashing hazel eyes. Her knees went weak. She swallowed hard and managed to find her voice.

  “Congratulations, Kirk,” she said.

  Suddenly, all the people around them dissolved into a vague backdrop. There were only the two of them, Kirk’s hands on his arms, his eyes looking into hers, draining the strength from her body. A slow smile crossed his lips. Then he bent and kissed her gently.

  Natalie’s breath was a sob catching in her throat.

  Then Kirk vanished in the crowd.

  Later that evening there was a triumphant party at the palatial Hollywood mansion of Sam Kasserman. The guest list read like a roster of Hollywood’s top stars, directors, studio executives and agents.

  Again Natalie was surrounded by a crush of friends and well-wishers. She felt as if she were on an emotional high, somewhere between hysterical laughter and tears. The voices, drinks and excitement were making her head swim.

  She had been looking around the room since she arrived but hadn’t seen Kirk. Then, suddenly she felt the familiar firm grip on her arm. He had seemed to appear from nowhere. With his hand on her arm, he extracted her from a cluster of guests.

  “Can we get away from this mob for a talk?” he asked, holding her captive with his eyes.

  For a moment she was taken by surprise. She didn’t know what to say. But his intense look searched deeply into her eyes with hypnotic force, making the decision for her. “I—I guess so,” she stammered.

  They slipped through French doors to the veranda. From there, steps led down to a formal garden. They walked along a graveled path and paused near a pool where a fountain splashed softly. Natalie took a seat on a bench. Kirk leaned against a tree, arms folded. His face was in darkness, but she could feel the force of his gaze.

  The sound of the party in the big house was muffled and distant. They were surrounded by the perfume of garden plants and flowers. Above them, the stars and a full moon twinkled through the trees.

  “How’ve you been, Natalie?” Kirk asked.

  “All right,” she said, feeling acutely self-conscious. “Keeping busy. How have you been?”

  He shrugged noncommittally.

  Natalie felt a rush of a thousand poignant memories, all the times good and bad that they had shared.

  For the past year she had buried the memories but they were surfacing now. There was no way to completely erase the years one had shared with another person. The memories brought a medley of mixed emotions—the sweetness of when she first fell in love with him darkened with the bitterness of the way it had ended.

  Natalie realized her palms were damp. She pressed them against her skirt. “Kirk, I want to congratulate you again. You deserve to be honored for your achievement. You gave part of your life to that film.”

  “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I meant what I said from the stage. The film would never have been completed without you. I didn’t find out exactly what you did in New York, but I know you had something to do with the way Sam Kasserman suddenly changed his mind and went ahead with the production. It was probably involved with your great-uncle Jeffrey being on the board of directors of the parent corporation.”

  “That’s not important. The bottom line is that you had a tremendous motion picture to begin with and you did an outstanding job of producing and directing it. No one else in the industry could have pulled it off the way you did.”

  “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I’d rather hear that from you than have the Oscar. I’m disappointed that you didn’t win the Academy Award, though. You should have had it, Natalie. Your portrayal of Rebecca Abrahms was superb, the best thing you’ve done in your acting career. I think the only reason they didn’t give it to you was because The Last Encounter won so many awards, they felt obligated to spread some of the top honors around to other people.”

  “Thanks.” She laughed self-consciously. “I remember the battles we had over how I should play the part. I have to tell you this, Kirk—everything you said was right. You brought out the best of me in that part. I’m so glad I got to do Rebecca Abrahms. Maybe they didn’t give me the Oscar this year, but I grew a lot in that part. My acting has had a new depth and maturity it never had before. I—I have to give you credit for that.”

  Kirk didn’t reply, but he looked pleased.

  They fell silent for several moments. Then Natalie said nervously, “Well...I guess I’d better get back to the party—”

  He was still regarding her with his searching gaze. “Any regrets, Natalie?” he asked softly.

  “What do you mean—?”

  “I mean about us. The divorce.”

  She swallowed hard. “Oh, a few, I guess. A divorce is not something to jump up and down about.” Tears were starting to blur her vision. She blinked them back. “It was the only thing to do, though.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Well, of course. Obviously you agreed. You didn’t try to stop me.”

  “No, I couldn’t at that time.”

  She frowned. What did he
mean? She wasn’t going to ask him. This conversation was becoming too painful. She rose. “I have to get back to the party.”

  “Are you really having such a great time in there? You hate parties like that, Natalie.”

  He was quite right. She actually detested these kinds of extravagant gatherings. She felt self-conscious and uncomfortable making small talk with a lot of people, a hangover from her childhood shyness.

  “How about sneaking out and going for a ride with me?”

  “Where to?” she asked with a fresh wave of nervousness.

  “Down to Long Beach. I bought a boat this week. I’d like to show her to you.”

  She was conscious of the quickened beating of her heart. She felt confused, her emotions again at war the way they were whenever she was around Kirk. This must be a dream, she thought. She never thought she’d be alone with Kirk again.

  “I—I can’t leave with you, Kirk. Tom Sacks brought me to the party.”

  “Do you really want to stick with Tom all evening?” he asked.

  She couldn’t say yes without lying. Instead, she said, “Won’t you make Marsha angry?”

  “About what?”

  “You leaving the party without her.”

  “I didn’t bring her to the party.”

  Natalie looked at him with surprise. “You were sitting with her at the Academy Awards.”

  “No, she was sitting with me.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Just what it sounds like. I was there with friends and she joined us.”

  Natalie pressed her throbbing temples. Kirk was confusing her. He was good at that. He was smarter than she was. When he started talking, she became unsure and her thoughts floundered and he could talk her into anything.

  Now he firmly took her arm, guided her around the house to the area where the guests’ cars were parked. He spoke to an attendant who brought up Kirk’s car, a low, sleek import.

  What am I doing? she asked herself with a wave of panic. She almost turned and ran, but Kirk’s firm arm guided her into the car. She sank into plush velour upholstery, her body tense, her icy hands clasped.

  Kirk slid behind the wheel. The powerful engine purred. Air conditioning whispered. Music played softly from hidden speakers. He swung out of the driveway.

  Natalie stared at his rugged profile dimly illuminated from the dashboard lights. She thought that he was certainly driving an expensive car. Then she realized that with the success of The Last Encounter, he could afford a dozen cars like this plus several sailboats. He owned a part of the movie. By the time the film had made the rounds of domestic movie houses a couple of times, then the foreign prints, eventually TV rights plus all the merchandising gimmicks, Kirk was going to be an extremely wealthy man. They were all going to make a lot of money from the film. When Natalie and her friends formed the production company, their contracts gave them a percentage of the film’s gross. She could thank her agent, Ira Bevans, for looking out for her interests on that score.

  Natalie found it difficult to relax. She had a sense of unreality about this strange situation. What was she doing, riding around with her ex-husband? She had no business being here.

  They made the trip to Long Beach in silence. Finally, he stopped the car. Looking around, she realized they had driven to the waterfront.

  He helped her out of the car. She gathered the hem of her long dress around her as they walked down the docks. He pointed to a boat anchored in the harbor. “There she is,” he said.

  She gasped, “Kirk, it’s beautiful!”

  She had expected a thirty-foot sailboat. It was a good deal more than that; it was a comfortable yacht large enough to sail anywhere in the world.

  She frowned. “It looks familiar.”

  “Yes, you’ve seen her before.”

  “Where?” she asked, surprised.

  “In the harbor in Rio de Janeiro. Remember the financial tycoon who loaned us his yacht for one of the scenes we filmed down there?”

  “This is the same yacht!” she exclaimed. “How did you ever get it?”

  Kirk laughed. “Very simple. I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. As part of the deal, he brought her through the Panama Canal and up the West Coast and delivered her to me here.”

  Natalie was speechless. This was beginning to sound like a scene from a movie Kirk would dream up. But why not? Kirk Trammer was inclined to do things in a flamboyant way. Everything he did, from the way he lived to the kinds of movies he directed, was bigger than life.

  They rode a tender out to where the yacht was anchored.

  “Come aboard.”

  He helped her up a ladder and led her to a comfortable seat on the deck.

  “Be right back,” he promised.

  He disappeared into the cabin and returned in a moment with a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice. The cork popped and he poured foaming liquid into two glasses. He handed one to Natalie.

  “I have another bottle, not quite as expensive, that I’ve been saving for the christening.”

  “Oh? What do you plan to name her?”

  His hazel eyes were gazing at her in a direct way that made a chill ripple up her nerve ends. “I’ve had a name all picked out. Remember that boat we sailed along the southern coast of France that summer after The Home Front had its debut?”

  Her mouth felt dry. She took a sip of the champagne. “Yes.”

  “I named her Natalie.”

  “I—I remember,” she said, her voice unsteady.

  “Well, I’m going to name this one Natalie II.”

  Her hand clasping the thin stem of the champagne glass trembled as she put the glass down. “Kirk...I—I don’t understand....”

  “Aren’t you going to ask why I want to name my boat after you?”

  “I—I don’t know.”

  She thought, I don’t know much of anything right now.

  Kirk crossed his long legs, leaning back luxuriously against the cushions, and gazed up at the full moon through the rigging. “I’m planning to take her on a world cruise,” he said casually. “I thought maybe you might like to come along.”

  Her face paled. Tears blurred her vision. “Kirk, are you trying to get back at me with some kind of cruel joke?”

  He looked at her soberly. “It’s no joke, Natalie. My films always have a happy ending. I’m trying to write a happy ending for us.”

  She shook her head in bewilderment. “Kirk, it’s too late for us—”

  He put down his drink and sat beside her, taking her hand. She started as she felt the powerful surge of vitality from his fingers through her body. “It’s not too late, Natalie,” he said huskily. “I won’t let it be too late. I love you. I want you to be my wife, forever. Do you understand? I’m asking you to marry me again.”

  She gazed at him in stricken wonder and dismay. “No, I don’t understand! Kirk, you never loved me! You are in love with the memory of the only woman you ever loved, Jacqueline Davis.” Tears suddenly burned her eyes. She choked. “I don’t know why you married me in the first place, or why you came back from Europe to make me miserable.” Then in a wave of anger, she cried, “Yes, I do! You wanted to make The Last Encounter and I was your ticket to studio backing! Now what do you want me for?” she demanded bitterly. “You have everything—success, money, acclaim....”

  She tried to pull her hands from his grasp, but he held them firmly. He gazed soberly into her eyes.

  “Natalie, listen to me. Much of what you say is true. Yes, when I married you I was still hung up on Jacqueline. You accused me of making The Two of Us to bring her back to life. You were partly right. I had to make that film to live over that chapter of my life and put the memory of Jacqueline to rest. I’ve done that, believe me. The reason I left you and went to Europe was because you were making a success of your career and I was a miserable failure. I just couldn’t hang around the house, letting you support me. When I was in Europe, I put together my ideas for The Last Encounter. I want
ed this one to be your film, Natalie. Believe me, I had no intention of using you just to get studio backing. But I was desperate. When that seemed the only way we were going to do the picture, I compromised and took it on those terms. I felt justified in doing it because I believed it was the only hope I had of getting you back. I couldn’t ask you to be my wife again unless I could prove myself. I had to wait until I was certain The Last Encounter would be a rousing success before I could beg you to come back to me. Can you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

  Natalie felt weak from the flood of emotions that threatened to drown her. She pulled her hands from Kirk’s grasp, pressing them against her burning cheeks. Then she arose and walked to the ship’s rail. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she gazed at the lights of the harbor. “It’s—it’s too late, Kirk,” she choked.

  “No it isn’t,” he said, moving behind her and putting his arms around her. He gently kissed her hair. “I love you, Natalie. And you love me. I can feel your body trembling right now because it’s close to mine. You’re thinking about that night we made love on the beach in Malibu when I came back from Europe and that night in Tunis. Those times you came to me because you felt sorry for me. I couldn’t ask you to come back to me out of pity. Now I don’t have to. I know you still love me and want me as much as I want you. We can be lovers on equal terms now, with shared respect and dignity.”

  He turned her to face him.

  She saw him through a blur of tears. “Kirk, no...,” she whispered unsteadily. But his lips found hers in the darkness and her mouth burned from his kiss.

  Her legs had grown weak. He scooped her up and carried her to the deck couch. “Remember that night in Rio?” he whispered softly. “We almost made love on this very couch. I think that was the main reason I had to buy this yacht. We had some unfinished business here.”

  He kissed her again. She felt the blood begin to pound through her body in heightened waves as he awakened slumbering passions. Soon, she could no longer struggle against mounting desire. Her arms slipped around him and she returned his kisses.

  “People like us never have smooth sailing in a marriage,” Kirk murmured. “We’re too volatile. Our careers will keep getting in the way. We’ll fight and separate and make up a hundred times. But we’ll always get back together for the simple reason that we can’t stay apart.”