Yes! she wanted to scream at Coral. Of course I've thought about it And I've decided that I don't really give a damn. If somebody gets hurt, too bad. This is my chance for love, and I'm going to take it. I blew it once before, and I'm not going to make that mistake again.
She didn't think it was wise to share these thoughts with Coral, however.
"Yes," she said, "I've thought about it. I've thought about it a lot, as a matter of fact." She sat back up and placed her drink on the table. "Listen," she said evenly, looking over at Coral again. "Misha is really miserable in his marriage and has been for a long time. He married her on the rebound from me, you know. I think he was actually trying to get back at me by marrying her."
Coral emitted an audible sigh. "That's what he's told you?" she asked.
"That he's unhappily married? Yes. That he married her on the rebound? Yes." Serena nodded. "He didn't exactly tell me he'd married her to get back at me, but that's what I think."
"So it was all just a little mistake," Coral said sarcastically. "Marrying her and fathering a child."
"Yes!" Serena said angrily. "It was!"
"And where does the child fit into all of this?" Coral asked. "Or has he even mentioned the little bundle of joy?"
"Jesus, Coral," Serena cried. "He adores his son. Of course he's mentioned him."
"And he's willing to virtually give up this son he adores so much so he can be with you. Yes?" Coral's eyes glittered malevolently.
Serena shrugged. "I—I don't know," she stammered. "We haven't really discussed that."
"Perhaps you should," she said. "Perhaps you'll take this innocent child into account the next time you and Misha Levin get cozy," she said.
"Oh, hell," Serena lashed out. "What do you know about these things anyway? You don't even like men!"
Coral digested this comment in silence. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft. "I thought you were a little sick of them yourself," she said. "I know there was a time when you were." She gave Serena a knowing look.
Serena tossed her long, raven hair and looked away, ignoring Coral and remaining silent.
"But I think that's beside the point really," Coral went on. "What we're talking about here is a relationship, and I do know a bit about them, even if I'm not involved with a man. Brandi and I have been together for over twenty years, and it hasn't always been easy, believe me. Love is great, wonderful. But it's taken work to make a go of it, and a lot of it. And that's without the complications of a divorce or a child entering the picture."
"I know," Serena said contritely. "I'm sorry I said what I did, Coral. That was a low blow."
"That's okay, Serena," she replied. "You're angry with me, and I can understand that. But you've got to remember that I'm thinking about you. I really believe that you've got some very serious soul-searching to do, Serena. Getting involved with somebody like Misha Levin is entirely different from having a little fling with one of the celebrities you photograph."
"I know it is," Serena said, nodding.
"You were terribly hurt by him once," Coral said, "and I hate to see you get hurt again."
"I appreciate your concern," Serena said, meaning it, "but that's not going to happen again."
"How can you be so certain?" Coral asked. "Don't forget that Misha Levin had quite a reputation before he got married. It was a different girl every few weeks, and from what I heard at the time, a lot of one-night stands thrown in for good measure."
"That was years ago," Serena said in his defense.
"Yes," Coral conceded. "About five or six years ago. Hardly ancient history, Serena. What I'm saying is, he has a history of playing around. Not only that, but his life is much more complicated now than it was the last time you two got involved. He wasn't married then, and didn't have a child."
"I know all that," Serena said, sighing wearily.
"And what about your career?" Coral asked. "Have you given that any thought? You've signed a contract for loads of money, and you're going to be under a lot of pressure to produce. You're going to be extremely busy." Coral waited for a response, but Serena sat mutely, staring at the floor.
"How's Misha Levin going to like it when you have to be gone half the time?" Coral persisted. "That was the problem the last time, if I remember correctly, and that hasn't changed. Are you willing to give up your career for him?"
"I would never do that," Serena said, her eyes bright with determination. "Besides, he wouldn't want me to. Misha's proud of my work, and somehow, I just know we can work it out."
She turned her hazel eyes on Coral. Her face was etched with an anguish that Coral hadn't seen there before. "We've just got to work it out," Serena said in a near whisper. "Because I meant what I said, Coral." Her voice broke then, and tears came into her eyes. "I'm really in love with him."
Jaded though she was, Coral's heart melted, and she looked at Serena tenderly. She rose to her feet and walked to the couch, her high heels click-clacking on the floor. She sat down next to Serena and took her in her arms.
Serena laid her head on Coral's shoulder and wept, Coral stroking her hair, whispering, "It'll be all right, darling. It'll be all right."
She wished she believed that her words were true. She did know that despite all her good advice, there was nothing more she could do to convince Serena that she was making a terrible mistake. Whether it was truly love or not didn't matter, Coral realized, because Serena believed she was in love and believed that Misha loved her.
How could she tell Serena what she really thought? she wondered. She couldn't, she decided. It was as simple as that. The truth was too cruel and would simply be too much for Serena to cope with on top of everything else.
Coral was convinced that Serena Gibbons had experienced so little real love in her life, so little nurturing, that she wouldn't recognize love if she was shown it or she herself felt it. She had never known anything but abuse, Coral reasoned, first from her family, then from the men she became involved with. And she was so starved for affection that when she'd been shown any degree of attention, she'd usually responded inappropriately, confusing even the basest lust with something infinitely more complicated and rewarding.
I think I'm probably the only person who's ever really loved Serena, she thought sadly.
At the same time, Coral was extremely worried because she also knew that Serena was quite capable of being extraordinarily insensitive to others, doling out the same kind of abuse she'd always received. Something fundamental, she had come to believe, had been so damaged by abuse and neglect that she wondered if Serena would ever heal.
"There, there," she whispered calmly, still stroking Serena's hair. "It'll be all right, darling."
Serena abruptly lifted her head and looked at Coral. Her eyes were red and puffy. "Oh, Coral," she said, sniffling, "I don't know what I'd do without you. Even if you do make me mad as all hell sometimes." Then she laughed and, pulling away, sat up straight.
"There's some Kleenex in my handbag," Coral said. "I'll get it." She got to her feet and retrieved her big Hermes Kelly bag. She found the packet of Kleenex and handed it to Serena.
Serena took it and wiped her eyes, then blew her nose. "Thanks, Coral," she said.
Coral stood watching her a moment, then crossed back to the chair and sat down. "Do you want to come uptown with me and go out to dinner?" she said. "Or we could order in, if you like."
"No." Serena shook her head. "I've got to start packing for the trip to England. Jason and Bennett are coming over to help." And she thought: I've got to be here to talk to Misha when he calls. She hadn't told Coral that they were meeting in England, and she had no intention of doing so now.
"Good," Coral said. "How are Jason and Bennett?"
"They're great," Serena said. "No tantrums, very efficient. And they're loads of fun to work with."
"I'm sure you could use some fun tonight," Coral said lightly. Then her voice suddenly became serious. "I'm really sorry I've upset you, Serena. I—"
"Forget it, Coral," Serena interjected. "I know you're trying to do what you think's right for me."
"Yes," Coral said. "I am. I know these are things you don't want to hear, but I care enough about you to say them. Just remember one thing, Serena. No matter what happens, I'm on your side, and I'll do whatever I can to help you." She didn't want to add that she had a strong feeling Serena was going to be needing her more than ever in the coming weeks.
Serena looked over at her. "Thanks, Coral," she said. "I really appreciate it." She got to her feet and stretched. "Now, why don't you go on? I know you want to get back uptown, and I'm okay."
"You're sure?" Coral asked.
"Yes," Serena said. "I'm sure."
Coral reached for her handbag and rose to her feet. She kissed Serena on the cheek, and Serena kissed her back.
"I'll walk you to the elevator," Serena said.
Arm in arm, they crossed the living room's huge expanse to the loft's entrance hall, where Serena pushed the button for the elevator. It opened immediately.
"Call me before you leave," Coral said, getting in the car.
"Oh, I will," Serena said. "Sometime tomorrow for sure. Bye." She waved.
"Good-bye, Serena," Coral said as the doors closed on her.
Serena turned and slumped against the wall. Jesus, she thought. Thank God she's gone.
Coral, she knew, meant well, but she simply couldn't get it through her head that Serena was in love. She walked back to the living room and picked up the glass of Jack Daniel's, then walked to the kitchen and threw the drink out in the sink.
What Coral doesn't realize, Serena thought, is that I'm going to have Misha Levin come hell or high water.
Misha replaced the telephone receiver in its cradle and looked thoughtfully toward the French doors, which led out to the wraparound terrace. He didn't see them, however, or the beautifully planted terrace that lay beyond them, with its spectacular view of Manhattan's twinkling night-time lights.
What he did envision was Serena, standing tall, slender, and magnificently nude. Her long black hair hung loose about her face, and her creamy naked breasts and firm thighs beckoned Kim to her, offering her body's rich delights and secret pleasures. He sat transfixed, reveling in her siren's call and his own heightened state of arousal, marveling that his merely speaking to her on the telephone still had such an effect on him.
Even after all these months, he reflected, since running into her in Vienna. It seemed like yesterday, that chance meeting, yet at the same time, like a million years ago. Their relationship had evolved into something so intense, and their lovemaking had become so familiar— yet always fresh, he thought.
"Everything okay, old boy?" Manny, fastidiously dressed and groomed as always, abruptly entered Misha's field of vision as he stepped through the terrace doors into the living room, a crystal balloon of brandy in hand. Sasha, aloof as always, remained out on the terrace.
Misha reluctantly relinquished the erotic specter that held him in its thrall and forced himself to return to the present reality. In this case, Manny and Sasha's lavishly decorated penthouse high above the West Side near Lincoln Center.
"What did you say?" Misha asked, swirling the scotch and water around in his glass before taking a sip.
"Everything okay?" Manny asked again.
"Yes," Misha said. "Everything's fine, Manny."
"So you two are getting together in London, I take it?" Manny asked, seating himself in a Jean-Michel Frank chair. Its bone leather upholstery squeaked under his weight.
"No," Misha said, "not London." He looked over at Manny and smiled conspiratorially. "But we are going to meet out in the country. At this place where Serena's going to be shooting. A big country house. She says it's really spectacular, practically a palace."
"And I assume," Manny said, "that this hanky-panky isn't going to interfere with your schedule?" He looked over at Misha through his thick tortoiseshell glasses.
"Has it ever?" Misha asked somewhat heatedly.
"No, no," Manny quickly replied. "I didn't mean—"
"I don't care what you meant," Misha snapped. "Don't ask me stupid questions." He shifted his weight on the shagreen daybed where he was seated and eyed Manny crossly.
"Jesus, Misha," Manny said, his face reddening. "Sorry!" Prick! he thought. What the hell's got his goat, anyway? He thinks he's so fucking superior?
Misha took another sip of his drink, then set the glass down on the rosewood Eugene Printz table next to him, noticing that it, like everything else in Manny's luxurious penthouse, was a pristine original. He looked up then and saw the hurt expression on Manny's face. He immediately felt contrite for snapping at him.
"Christ," he said, "I'm sorry, Manny. I didn't mean to jump down your throat."
"It's okay, Misha," Manny said. "Forget it." He shrugged, then took a sip of his brandy, savoring its fiery taste on his palate. "You're not yourself tonight. What's bugging you, old boy?"
Misha looked at him for a moment, then sighed. "To be honest, Manny, I don't like the way you used 'hanky- panky' to describe the relationship that Serena and I have."
"I—I'm sorry," Manny said, looking at Misha with surprise. If it's not hanky-panky, he thought, what the fuck would you call it, then?
"It's much more than that, Manny," Misha said, as if he'd read Manny's mind. His face was set in a solemn expression and his tone was serious. "In fact, it's not like that at all. This is serious, Manny. Real serious."
Manny returned his gaze. "So you're sure this isn't just a passing fancy?" he asked.
"Anything but, Manny." Misha shook his head, and ran his long fingers through his hair. "I'm in love with her. Head over heels in love."
Manny could hardly restrain himself from clapping his hands in glee. Nothing could make him happier, for he had come to loathe Vera Levin and her unwavering attention to Misha's business. She was always asking questions. Always going through Misha's royalty statements with a fine-tooth comb. She'd made it quite clear that she didn't trust him or Sasha.
Manny cleared his throat. "Uh-oh," he said.
"Uh-oh, indeed," Misha responded.
"And she's in love with you, I take it?" Manny said.
Misha nodded. "Yes."
"What are you going to do about it?" Manny asked. "I mean, are you—"
"I don't know," Misha answered truthfully. "I don't know what to do. But I do know that it can't go on like this much longer. Sneaking down to her loft like some kind of criminal or trying to meet if we're traveling in the same part of the world—it's not enough. It's making us both a little crazy."
Misha paused and took a sip of his scotch and water. "I hate the subterfuge," he said with a scowl. "It makes me feel dirty. It makes what Serena and I do—what we have with each other—seem sordid. And it's not, Manny. It's anything but. It's beautiful and wonderful and pure."
He looked at Manny, his eyes burning bright with conviction.
Manny simply nodded, and thought: Whoa! This gets better and better. He really believes he and Serena are involved in some kind of great and noble love affair instead of a good old-fashioned fuckfest.
"But having to sneak around and tell lies taints everything," Misha added. He heaved a sigh. "I hate the deceit and the furtiveness. But I guess most of all I hate the ...the unfaithfulness."
"Are you going to tell Vera about it?" Manny asked.
"I'm going to have to, and soon," Misha replied. "It just can't go on like this."
"I'd say the sooner the better," Manny suggested. "Then you won't have to he or sneak around. You'll feel a whole lot better about yourself."
"I wish it were that easy," Misha said. "I guess I'm being a real chicken, but I know that Vera's going to be crushed. She hasn't really done anything to deserve this, you know? She's going to be hurt. Really hurt. And Nicky ...well ...I—"
Misha's voice suddenly broke, and he looked at Manny with his big, dark eyes. They were immensely sad with the knowledge of the pain he would inf
lict on his wife and his son.
"I think Nicky's still too young to know what's going on," Manny said quickly. "And no matter what happens, you'd see a lot of him. Vera's not unreasonable. She'll be hurt of course, but we both know that Vera's strong and resilient, Misha. She'll get over it. Probably quicker than you think."
"Why do you say that?" Misha asked.
"Just look at her, Misha," Manny said. "She's young and beautiful and rich in her own right. She knows a lot of people. Believe me, she won't be on the loose long."
"You almost make it sound like I'd be doing her a favor," Misha said.
Manny shrugged. "Well, better she's free to start a new life of her own—you, too, for that matter—than both of you live in a marriage that's not working. Right?"
"I—I guess so," Misha said thoughtfully. Then: "Yes, you're right, of course. I'm just so ... so uncertain about things right now. Except Serena." He looked at Manny. "I know I really love her and want to be with her."
"If you're certain about that," Manny said, "then all the rest follows. You know what you have to do if you want to be with her."
Misha sighed again. "Yes. I know exactly what I have to do. I guess I'm just putting off the inevitable, aren't I?"
Manny nodded. "I'd say so, old boy." He took another sip of his brandy, relishing thoughts of Vera's face when she got the news. He couldn't wait to tell Sasha the news. "What does Serena have to say about all this?" he asked.
"She is impatient," Misha said, "but she understands."
"She's a spectacular lady," Manny said. "Beautiful and talented. Extremely creative. You two are a lot alike. You have a lot in common."
"We do, don't we?" Misha said, as if the thought had never occurred to him before. Then he smiled, somewhat ruefully. "Well, I have you to thank for introducing us."
"Guilty as charged," Manny replied. And little did I know that eventually it would work out so perfectly, he thought.
Misha sipped the last of his drink and set the glass down. "I'd better get going," he said.
"You sure you won't have another drink?" Manny asked.
"No, thanks," Misha answered. "I've got to finish packing for London." He got up and stretched, then turned to Manny. "Thanks for listening, Manny," he said, "and everything else. You've been a real friend."
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