He looked back at the computer screen, studied it briefly then lifted his gaze back to Candy. “I want you to work with me on this project,” he said, pointing at the computer screen.
“Doing what?” She laughed skeptically.
“I want us to finish her book.”
“And who’s going to write it?”
“Well…for the most part, you are.”
“Me?” she said, doubtful.
“Yes, you.” He seemed confident about her abilities.
“Frank, you’re forgetting one little detail.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m not a writer.”
“The cover of Bad Company would suggest otherwise.”
Sure, Candy’s name was on the book as co-author, but that didn’t make her a writer. “While it’s true,” she said, “we did collaborate on Bad Company, but for all intents and purposes…Roxanne wrote that book.”
“Candy, if we just try,” his tone sobered. “I know we can do it. Let’s try...for Roxanne.”
That wasn’t playing fair. How was she supposed to say no to that? “All right,” she agreed reluctantly. “We may turn out to be a laughing-stock. But we’ll give it our best shot.”
“Was she really that out of touch with reality?”
“I guess you haven’t read everything.” She popped the disk out and looked at it. Scanning through the others, she selected one and inserted it into the disk drive. “This part she wrote from a third person point of view.” Candy set the scene as she brought the proper text up on the screen. “When you read it you’ll see why. This was her state of mind more often than not.” She couldn’t help thinking she’d somehow betrayed Roxanne’s confidence by showing the passage to Frank.
~ From Roxanne Simon’s personal notes
While in her eighth month of pregnancy Roxanne had dropped by Jerry’s office for one of her twice-a-week appointments. She eased down into the chair, twisted and turned to find a position that’d keep the baby’s feet, hands, or whatever off of her ribs.
“How are you doing?” Jerry asked in that same mundane tone he always used.
“Well…I can’t sleep at night, ‘cause I can’t find a comfortable position to sleep in. Even if I could, the indigestion would probably keep me awake. And, aside from the fact that I feel like an inflated balloon...” She stopped long enough to sigh. “I’m fine.” She forced a smile.
“How’s the movie coming along?”
“Kirk and I have been rehearsing. I think they’re basically waiting for me to give birth so my scenes can be shot.” Uncertainty washed over her. “I don’t know if I can pull this off.”
“What does Lyle think?”
“Lyle thinks I’m going to be great.” She did not share the same enthusiasm.
“Well I think it’s pretty safe to say that you can trust Lyle’s judgment.”
“I just sometimes wonder if they might not be expecting more from me than I can deliver.”
“Is that because you think Frank expected more from you than you could give?”
“What is your fascination with him?” she asked. “Why do you keep bringing him up?”
“Why are you always trying so desperately to block him out?” Jerry countered.
“Who said I was trying to block him out?”
“Okay. Okay.” Jerry gave in. “We’ll change the subject.”
“Thank you very much,” she said curtly.
“How’s the new book coming along?” Thankfully, he abandoned the topic of Frank Garrett.
“I finished the first draft. Jason likes the synopsis.”
“Well things seem to be looking up for you…but are you sure you’re not trying to take on too much at once...considering your condition?”
Roxanne checked her watch. “Oh, shit. I’ve got to go. I’m meeting Frankie for lunch,” she said without batting an eye. She rose from the chair easily, as if she weren’t pregnant at all.
She had no idea she was in New York City, or that meeting Frank Garrett for lunch was not something she’d be doing that day or any other in the foreseeable future.
~ ~ ~
Frank lifted his guilt-ridden eyes to meet Candy’s steady gaze. “Did I do this to her?”
“You can’t blame yourself for what happened, Frank. It was no one’s fault. Some things just happen.”
That night Frank dreamed of being in an empty room with nothing but total darkness. He could hear Roxanne’s voice softly calling out to him. He ran to every corner of the room looking for her, but he couldn’t find her anywhere. Her voice grew a louder as she begged him to help her. Frank ran around in the darkness, searching frantically for Roxanne. His efforts were fruitless.
Waking, he found himself sitting up in bed. His heart was racing wildly, and beads of perspiration had pebbled on his brow. Trying to put the dismal dream out of his mind, his attention was drawn by something else.
Knowing he heard something, he strained to listen. It sounded like someone weeping. Frank got out of bed and went to the doorway. The crying grew louder. He stepped out into the hallway. The sobbing was coming from Frankie’s room.
Frank found him in bed, curled up in the fetal position. He was whimpering even though he was sleeping. A bad dream? He sat down onto the edge of the bed and laid a hand on Frankie’s shoulder.
“Mommy…Mommy!” Frankie cried out in his sleep.
Frank pulled him into his lap and hugged him tightly. “Frankie, it’s Daddy. Come on baby, wake up.”
Frankie opened his eyes and looked up at Frank. He threw his arms around Frank and cried harder. “I want my Mommy!” he wailed. “Daddy...I want my Mommy!”
“I know…I know.” Frank tried to console him. “She’d be here if she could.” But Frank couldn’t convince himself, much less Frankie.
“I want my Mommy.” The boy bucked and kicked. “I want my Mommy...” His shrieks trailed off into his tears. Frank hugged him tighter.
There was nothing Frank could do but hold onto him. He couldn’t give the boy what he wanted. And Frank hated himself for that. After all, he was the one who’d taken Roxanne away from him in the first place.
***
Chapter 26
Frank, Candy, and Rich attended the Oscars, to the media’s surprise. No one expected them to be there, considering what had happened recently. There were rumors—plenty of rumors—but nothing substantial about what had happened to Roxanne Simon. The family was very closed-mouthed about the conditions that had left her in a coma.
The movie Bad Company was cleaning house, too. It’d had won five awards, and there were three left to be presented. Two of those categories held nominations for Roxanne and Candy’s movie.
The time had come for the presentation of the Best Actress Award. Candy was nervous. She hoped Roxanne won, but if she didn’t—all Candy knew was she didn’t want to win out over Roxanne.
“And, the Oscar goes to…” The presenter stalled, opening the envelope. Surprise pleasantly filled his face. “We have a tie. For Bad Company…Candy Simon.” He paused while the crowd roared. If he didn’t follow Candy’s name with Roxanne’s, this would end up a truly hollow victory. One she would absolutely hate. The presenter leaned toward the mic, his expression stoic, giving nothing away about the identity of Candy’s co-winner. “And again...” He stalled again, dragging it out. Candy was ready to strangle him. “For Bad Company, Roxanne Simon.”
The crowd went wild.
Tears pooled around Candy’s eyes. She hugged Rich and then grabbed Frank’s hand. “Come on,” she said. “Come with me and accept on her behalf.”
Frank followed Candy up to the stage and waited patiently while she gave her acceptance speech. As Candy wrapped up her thank-yous, he decided it was time to make his announcement to the world.
Frank stepped up to the microphone and took a moment to eye the Oscar statuette. “I would like to thank all those people that Roxanne would have—” He continued to stare at the coveted prize. “—b
ut I don’t know who they are.” He laughed a little, having amused himself. “But, thanks to all of you anyway...whomever you may be.” He waited for the applause to fade. “There’s something I’d like to tell you all. Something that really doesn’t have anything to do with tonight’s event.” He finally looked out at the audience. A hush fell over the entire auditorium. “As you all may know, my wife was recently hospitalized and remains in a coma. I’d like to take this opportunity to tell you all that Garrett-Hollander is now officially disbanded.” The audience gasped. “With due respect to my wife, I will no longer perform in concert or record any more albums.” Saying what he had to say, Frank backed away from the podium.
The audience mumbled, showing their disapproval.
At the end of the evening, Bad Company was named Picture of the Year. But even as the announcement came, it was old news.
Over the next few days, the Simon sisters and Garrett-Hollander were the lead stories in just about every newspaper in the country. Back in Tampa, Frank scanned the front page of the Tampa Tribune with little interest.
Simon Sisters Win: Garrett-Hollander Quits
It came as no surprise when the Simon Sisters latest movie Bad Company swept the Oscar’s last night. And it was refreshing to find that both Roxanne and Candy tied for the Best Actress Award. What was a surprise though, was Frank Garrett’s announcement to the world.
Garrett, co-founder of the popular rock-band Garrett-Hollander, announced to the world last night that the group has officially disbanded. He went on to say that he would not perform at any more concerts or record any more albums.
We doubt the Academy cares about this at all, but they probably are very sorry to lose Roxanne Simon to a coma. Many of us will miss her fine performances.
As for G-H, the music world is devastated. And to all of the band’s fans, of which I am one, it is a sorrowful day for us all. We will never hear any new music from the band, or have the opportunity to attend one of their concerts. However, there is one consolation for us. Aside from the three previous albums, G-H is about to release their fourth and apparently final album. Thank you Mr. Garrett for leaving us with that much.
Your public commends you, Frank, in your quest to show your wife proper respect. But to the band Garrett-Hollander, we will miss you terribly!
Hell, Frank thought, who are they trying to kid? He threw the paper down on the table. Nobody really gives a damn.
Frank went up to Roxanne’s study. He took the disks out of the drawer and accidentally dropped them on the floor. Bending over to pick them up, he noticed a few spots of blood on the carpet. It must have dripped from Roxanne’s hand when she was sitting at her desk that night.
He went downstairs and gathered some cleaning supplies, intent upon removing the stain from the carpet.
Candy came in sometime later, while Frank was on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor with a sponge.
“What are you doing?” she asked, walking around behind the desk.
“There’s blood on the carpet.” Frank didn’t look up. He continued to scrub at the stain. “It probably dripped off her hand that night.”
“Frank—” Candy grabbed his arm. “Stop it.”
He jerked away. “Candy, I have to clean this up.” He refused to stop.
She went for the sponge. “Frank…you have to stop this.”
Frank looked up into Candy’s worried green eyes. “I can’t,” he said helplessly.
“You’ve got to stop avoiding the facts.”
“What facts?”
“The fact that you can’t deal with what’s happened to Roxanne.” She gave a quick, one-sided shrug. “The fact that you blame yourself, and your music. Isn’t that why you killed your guitar and quit?”
“Killed my guitar?” He almost laughed.
“It looked pretty dead when I saw it in the trash.”
“From the very beginning…if I hadn’t made her feel like music was more important to me than her,” he said with conviction. “Then you and I wouldn’t be racking our brains right now, trying to write this book.” He paused, content in reveling in his own self-condemnation. “She’d be here, alive and well and doing it herself. And I wouldn’t feel like such a jerk.”
“Frank, you’ve got to stop this.” Candy’s tone didn’t hide her concern. “You’re going to drive yourself crazy.”
“Well now,” he said with a hint of laughter. “Wouldn’t that just be poetic justice.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t you see?” He looked at Candy. “I did this to her. I drove her crazy.”
“Frank, you had no control over what happened.”
Oh, yes I did. After all, he was the one who’d plotted and planned to drive her nuts. “You know what the worst part of all this is?” he asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer. “It’s the way this is affecting Frankie.” The notion that Frankie would have such a hard time with the absence of his mother had never crossed Frank’s mind. And now Frank hated himself for being the cause.
“Frankie’s a survivor,” Candy said with a measure of certainty.
“He has dreams about Roxanne, you know.” Frank let it out. “He cries in his sleep for his mother. He wants her and I can’t give her to him.”
Candy wished there was something she could do or say to help Frank, but it was useless. Nothing would help Frank. Nothing short of Roxanne waking up.
Frank dreaded going to bed that night. He knew at some point that Frankie’s cries would wake him up. Every time it happened, it cut into his heart a little deeper. The worse part of all—there was nothing he could do to fix it.
But this time, unlike all the others, Frankie’s crying didn’t rouse Frank until Frankie was standing over him, banging on his chest, beckoning him to wake up.
“Mommy…” Frankie cried. “Mommy!”
Frank realized the boy was still sleeping. “Frankie...” Frank pulled him down onto the bed.
“I want my Mommy.” Frankie sobbed, half awake now.
Frank pulled him into his lap. “Frankie, you know your mother can’t be with us right now. She’s not well enough yet.”
“No!” Frankie wailed, kicking his feet. “I want my Mommy…”
“Mommy’s in the hospital right now,” Frank tried to explain.
“No…no…no...” Frankie continued kicking. “Daddy, please...I want my Mommy...”
Horrific thoughts flooded Frank’s mind. Oh God...what have I done?
Candy wasn’t exactly confident in her ability to write Roxanne’s book. She didn’t feel she had a talent for writing—not like Roxanne. The best solution she could come up with was to try writing it the way she thought Roxanne would have.
After printing out the portion she’d just completed, she handed the printed papers to Frank, who instantly began reading.
~From the autobiography
When Roxanne met Kirk Bronson he was very married. Any fool could see that he was totally in love with his wife Sara. But he’d once said there was something about Roxanne that had captivated and mesmerized him from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. He’d only seen her the one time in Lyle’s office, but even so, during the days that followed he couldn’t get her out of his mind. Still, at that point, Kirk didn’t harbor any romantic delusions toward Roxanne. During his marriage to Sara, he never made an attempt to carry on an affair with Roxanne. He simply wanted to be her friend.
A few days after the initial meeting with Lyle Williams, Kirk phoned him up even though he was still apprehensive about acting.
“Kirk,” Lyle said into the telephone, “I hope you’re calling to say that you’ve reconsidered our offer.”
“Well…” Kirk paused. “I have been thinking about it.”
“When can we meet?” Lyle asked quickly.
“There is one thing,” Kirk said. “That young woman I met in your office the other day.”
“Roxanne…? She wrote the novel.” And then Lyle remembered that Roxanne hadn’t been exactl
y nice to Kirk. “She’ll be on the set quite a bit, but if that’s a problem we’ll separate the two of you as much as possible.”
“No. I don’t have a problem with her.”
“Wonderful,” Lyle said, relieved.
“By the way,” Kirk said. “Given that I can somehow manage to pull this off…who is my co-star?”
“Well, that’s where we’re having a little trouble,” Lyle admitted. “We just can’t seem to find the right girl.”
A few weeks later, auditions were still ongoing for the role of Cherie Baker. Mainly out of curiosity, Roxanne decided to sit in on the auditions. Testing in one of the hospital room scenes, the actress reading wasn’t doing it any better than the other four who’d come before her.
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