LOVESCENES

by Sandra Marton

  He looked terrified. She felt awful for him.

  ‘That’s all right,’ she said gently. ‘I’m not in any par­ticular rush.’

  “You mean, you haven’t got any appointments today?’

  ‘No,’ she said without thinking, ‘none at...’ The words caught in her throat as a triumphant grin flashed across his face. ‘Now, Cade...’

  ‘Gotcha fair and square, Padgett. You’ve had some­thing or other to keep you busy every day for the past week.’

  ‘I have a crowded schedule.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. If there were twenty-five hours in a day, you’d be busy twenty-six of them. Day and night classes, night and day appointments...’

  ‘I can’t help that.’

  ‘Busy, busy, busy. Except for today.’

  ‘Of course I’m busy today—I’ve got to work on my part.’

  ‘Amazing,’ he said softly. ‘So do I.’

  ‘Cade. Listen, okay? There’s no benefit to our practicing together.’

  ‘Oh, absolutely right,’ he agreed solemnly. ‘What possible use could there be if two people who are going to play a scene together studied it together?’

  ‘All each of us has to do is memorize some lines,’ she said helplessly. ‘There’s nothing much to that.’

  ‘Right. We wouldn’t want to risk finding some way to get the damned lines make some kind of sense. It’s much better to handle this separately.’

  ‘You’re making it sound silly.’

  ‘Silly? No way. Just let me in on Mon­day’s game plan, okay? Shall we both blow our lines, or are you going to come up with something brilliant while I come on the set and do a stand-up comedy routine?’ He waggled his eyebrows and raised an imag­inary cigar to his mouth. ‘A funny thing happened to me on the way to the cemetery,’ he said.

  Shannon felt her lips twitch..

  ‘A young lady asked me to make love to her on a coffin and I told her she didn’t have a ghost of a chance.’

  ‘Stop that. Look, all you have to do is say the lines straight.’

  ‘ “I love you when you wear sexy black stock certi­ficates, Alana...’”

  A laugh burst from her lips.

  ‘Stop that! It’ll be fine.’

  ‘No, it won’t. And I don’t want you to feel guilty when I get laughed off the set. It won’t be your fault. Just because you turned me down when I pleaded for help...’

  Shannon rolled her eyes. ‘Honestly, Cade—‘

  ‘I can picture the Enquirer headline now,’ he said dreamily. ‘ “Morgan Murders Moving Moment”. Well, that would be better than “Padgett and Morgan Kill Ca­reers on National TV”. Of course, I’d see to it they spelled your name right.’

  ‘You’re impossible, Mr. Morgan.’

  ‘I’m desperate, Miss Padgett.’

  She sighed, then glanced at her watch.

  ‘One hour, not a second more. Go dredge up another copy of the script.’

  ‘I’ve got one in my dressing-r00m.’

  ‘Well then, go get it and we’ll read lines together.’

  ‘We can’t read here.’ She looked up at him sharply and he raised his hands in surrender. ‘Not my fault. They’re going to be constructing a new set today.’ As if on cue, the high-pitched whine of an electric drill pierced the air. ‘So, unless you want to compete with that...’

  ‘Why do I feel as if I’ve been set up?’ Shannon sighed. The sounds of the drill were augmented by the thud of a hammer.

  ‘ I know what you’re thinking, Padgett. Well, you’re in for a surprise. I am not going to suggest we rehearse at my place.’

  ‘Gosh,’ she said with studied innocence, “I never even thought of that.’

  ‘Nor am I going to suggest your place.’

  ‘Good, because my apartment’s out of the question. And I am absolutely, positively not going to the beach. All of which leaves us nowhere.’

  ‘Ah, what little faith you have in me, woman. I know the perfect spot. It’s close by, it’s entirely public, but no one will think we’re nuts when we start reading lines from Monday’s black comedy.’

  Shannon made a face. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘And I’m Mickey Mouse.’

  Cade grinned and tapped her nose lightly with his finger. ‘Only when you’ve got your slippers on,’ he said. ‘Anyway, I think of you as Minnie. Even dear, dead, daddy Dunbar would see the difference.’

  ***

  ‘The Staten Island Ferry?’ Shannon grumbled as she watched Cade chain up his motorcycle. ‘What kind of place is that for reading lines?’

  ’I told you, it’s the perfect place. Trust me.’

  ‘Hah! I remember all too well the last time I did that, Mr. Morgan. I ended up a kidnap victim.’’

  ‘Now, now, Padgett,’ he said, taking her hand in his and tugging her along after him towards the railing. ‘I simply took you to the beach and then brought you back to the city, safe and sound, and ready to take on the next day’s taping. Which is what’s going to happen after our ferry ride across the Bay.’

  ‘Damn it, Cade, nobody goes to Staten Island.’

  ‘Try telling that to the New Yorkers who live there.’

  ‘And nobody rides the ferry in this kind of weather. It’s cold.’

  ‘You’re wearing a down jacket, aren’t you?’

  Shannon clucked her tongue in exasperation. ‘And it’s foggy.’

  ‘Just the way it’s going to be on the set when Murray gets that fog machine going. I thought you were a be­liever in method acting.

  ‘When you put it that way,’ she said sarcastically, ‘I can’t imagine why I didn’t think of this myself.’

  ‘This is the greatest sea voyage in the world, Padgett,’ Cade said, slipping a protective arm lightly around her shoulders as the American Legion lurched out of its slip and crept cautiously into the fog envel­oping Manhattan Bay. ‘I spent a lot of time on these boats when I was first starting out.’

  She shivered in a gust of salt-laden air and Cade glanced down at her. ‘Is it too cool for you? We can ride inside, if you like.’

  Shannon shook her head and brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes.

  ‘If we’re going to take an ocean voyage, I want to take advantage of it.’ She looked at him and gave him a quick smile. ‘Don’t let it go to your head, but this isn’t bad. I like the clean smell the sea—and I don’t think I’ve been anywhere in New York that’s this empty.’ Pulling up her jacket collar, she moved out of his en­circling arm and turned her back to the wind. ‘OK, let’s read. We’ll make sense out of this scene yet.’

  ‘Well,’ Cade sighed twenty minutes later, ‘at least it sounds a little better. I didn’t think there were so many different ways to read a line.

  ‘It’s my chattering teeth that make them sound dif­ferent,’ Shannon laughed. ‘Oh, it’s cold!’

  ‘That’s it,’ Cade said, slipping his arm around her. ‘We’re going inside.’

  ‘No, don’t be silly. Really, I like it out here.’ She tucked a blowing strand of hair behind her ear and looked up at him. ‘What did you mean when you said you used to spend a lot of time on the ferry? Did you live on Staten Island?’

  He laughed softly. ‘Nobody lives on Staten Island, re­member? What happened was, I took a hole-in-the-wall apartment way, way downtown after I left Princeton. One room, make your own heat and hot water, cockroaches are free— sometimes, when I’d feel about as low as I could get, I’d grab my guitar and ride the ferry.’

  ‘Left Princeton? Not “graduated”?’

  Cade shrugged. ‘I thought I’d told you that. I gave it up when I had less than a year to go. I was eager to get out into the real world, I guess... Well, it was more than that. My mother had just died and I felt, I don’t know, I felt as if nothing really mattered much.

  ‘What about your father?’

  ‘What about him?’ He gave her a quick smile. ‘I don’t mean to sound bitter, but I never knew my father. He took off when I was little. My mother worked all he
r life to keep a roof over our heads. I can still re­member the Christmas she gave me my first guitar.’ Cade’s eyes darkened with painful memory. ‘It probably cost her six months of overtime.’

  Shannon fought against the desire to reach up and smooth the lines of tension from his face. ‘And the rest, as they say, is history?’ she said lightly.

  He laughed and squeezed her shoulder gratefully. ‘Something like that. Anyway, when I lived on Staten Island, the ferry became my emotional escape route. I used to ride it for hours.’

  ‘All by yourself?’

  He nodded. ‘Yeah, just me and my guitar. The smell of the sea and the sound of the gulls were—I don’t know, they were enough to make me feel human again. After a while, some of the guys who worked the ferries got to know me, and they’d let me ride back and forth for free. It was an ocean cruise that was better than any hour spent with a shrink.’ He glanced down at her and laughed self-consciously. ‘It really is a great place to rehearse, you know. I wrote my first hit on the ferry... Damn, why don’t you tell me to shut up? I sound like a nostalgia trip.’

  ‘Sea Lover? Written on this boat? Do you know, I can still remember the first time I heard it. I was taking a summer school course in English Lit, and our as­signment was to pick a contemporary poem and present it to the class.’ Shannon dipped her head and looked away in sudden embarrassment. ‘I chose Sea Lover. Just the words, you know, as if it were a poem and not a song. I thought it was beautiful.’

  ‘‘Did you really like it?’

  She nodded, warmed by the sound of pleasure she heard in his voice. ‘I still do. Did you really write it on the ferry? I’ve always pictured composers working in sound-proofed studios.’

  ‘Maybe some do. I just need a quiet place I can call my own, preferably near water.’ He tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. ‘I guess we don’t know much about the other’s profession, do we? I mean, I’d never have thought actors in soaps put in so many hours each day.’

  ‘Not all of them do. You must have noticed, Rima just floats in and out.’

  ‘Rima’s not an actress, she’s a happening.’ They both laughed. ‘You’re the actress,’ Cade said softly. ‘You’re good enough to carry both of us.’

  ‘You don’t need me to carry you, Cade.’

  ‘Look, let’s be honest. I’d have made an ass of myself a dozen times over if you weren’t there.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ she said quickly. ‘You’re good. Even Eli says so.’

  He smiled. ‘Yeah, but where is Eli when I need him?’

  ‘Don’t worry about Monday. You’ll be fine.’

  ‘I’ll be a human laughing machine.’

  ‘No, you won’t,’ Shannon said with determination. ‘I’ll teach you some tricks of the trade. For instance, think of something sad when you’re playing a sad scene. It really helps a lot.’

  ‘The only sad thing I can think of when I look at Monday’s dialogue is that it’s going to be the end of my short but awful career.’

  ‘No—try to think of something positive.’

  ‘Unemployment insurance,’ he said promptly, and Shannon laughed.

  ‘You’re impossible,’ she said. ‘And crazy.’

  ‘Right and right, but mostly, I’m scared stiff. You don’t know how much this job means to me. I’m getting kind of old for one-night stands..’ He grinned at the look on her face. ‘Concert performances, Padgett. I gave up the other kind a long time ago.’

  ‘Really?* she asked, her voice a study in disinterest.

  He nodded. ‘Really. There’s something terribly sad in waking up and finding you can’t recall the name of the girl lying beside you. Maybe it was exciting when I was twenty, but by thirty it was depressing as hell. What’s even worse is having to phone the desk clerk to ask what town you’re in.*

  ‘I take it life on the road isn’t as glamorous as the Sunday supplements make it sound.’

  Cade’s laughter was harsh. ‘It’s not what it’s cracked up to be, no.’

  Shannon turned away and leaned her arms on the deck railing.

  ‘Neither is acting. When I was growing up, I used to read articles about people like Meryl Streep and picture myself signing autographs and giving interviews. Nobody told me about the cattle calls—you know, the open auditions where a couple of hundred actresses show up for one part. They never told me about how often you come close to starving.’

  ‘I know I’m lucky to have avoided all that,’ he said quickly, almost defensively. ‘You worked hard to get where you are and I just kind of wandered in.’

  It was what she had told herself from the first, but now it no longer seemed quite that simple. There was an embarrassed smile on her face as she turned towards him.

  ‘I suppose we just came at it from different direc­tions,’ she said slowly. ‘You worked hard to get where you are.’

  ‘You don’t have to be charitable, Shannon.’

  ‘No, no, I mean it. You’re a fine musician.’

  ‘Not just a guitar player?’ he asked gently.

  A rush of crimson rose to her cheeks. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. But I was angry that day. It wasn’t just you, Cade. Part of it was Rima, and the way everybody walks on eggs around her because she has a name. Part of it was Jerry, the way he became all smiles when you walked in…’ She hesitated. ‘I admit, I wasn’t terribly happy to see you.’

  ‘No kidding,’ he said lightly.

  ‘But it had nothing to do with your music,’ she said quickly. ‘The truth is, I’ve always liked your songs. They say things I feel...’

  She broke off and turned away from him, looking down at the foam flecked water slipping by the hull. She’d said more than she’d intended. She sensed him moving closer to her and her heart began to race. He put a hand on the railing on either side of her, trapping her between his arms.

  ‘What things?’ he asked softly.

  Tell him, she thought, tell him everything. Tell him you hear his loneliness and understand it. Tell him he’s like his music, strong yet tender at the same time. Tell him how hard it is not to surrender each time he kisses you...

  ‘Shannon?’ he whispered. She could feel his breath against the nape of her neck, the warmth of it heating her wind-chilled flesh. ‘I wanted to tell you... This week, being with you every day, working with you... I couldn’t have done it without you.’

  Of course, she thought, closing her eyes as his voice murmured softly to her. She was his ticket to success, the end to those nights and days and weeks on the road. Everything else was make-believe.

  With a groan, the ferry bumped into its Staten Island slip. Shannon staggered backward, falling against Cade momentarily as the deck lurched beneath their feet.

  ‘Careful,’ he said, holding her lightly against him. ‘You don’t want to fall.’

  How right he was, she thought, staring blindly into the fog. With Cade Morgan, it would be all too easy.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Greek restaurant on 15th Street was, as Cade had promised, a warm oasis in the damp November evening.

  ‘We both have to eat, don’t we?’ he’d said. ‘It might as well be together—unless you can’t bear the thought of real food instead of a TV dinner.’

  ‘I suppose I can survive one night without dining on plastic chicken,’ Shannon had laughed. After all, she’d thought as she clung to him on the back of the Harley, what harm could come of having dinner together?

  A string of tin bells strung over the door tinkled as they entered the restaurant, the bright tones barely au­dible over the soft buzz of conversation coming from the small bar to the right.

  A few gnarled faces looked up as the door closed behind them, glancing at Shannon and Cade with indifference.

  Beyond, dark wooden booths clung to rough, whitewashed walls. The air was delicately scented with garlic and rosemary.

  ‘Are you sure we’re in Manhattan?’ Shannon whis­pered as Cade slipped her jacket from her shoulders.

&nb
sp; ‘Every sea voyage should end at a foreign port,’ he said softly. ‘Just wait until you taste Elena’s grilled lamb. Yasou, Nico,’ he called, stepping towards a straight- backed old man with a fierce smile and a headful of white curls. ‘It’s good to see you again.’

  The old man smiled. ‘ Yasou, my friend. It is a long time.’

  Cade smiled as he slipped his arm around Shannon. ‘This is Shannon. I’ve been telling her all about the magic of Elena’s kitchen.’