Loving David

by Gina Hummer

“I can scramble an egg and use a toaster.”

  “Well, that’s two things more than me.” Charlotte gave the area around the sink one last swipe with the sponge. “We should plan to get in here around seven.” She turned to look at David and wiped a few drops of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. “I usually go for a walk around the lake about now. Want to join me?”

  David hung the now-wet dishtowel over the faucet. “I’d love to.”

  They headed toward the lake, the sun dancing on the smooth sheet of blue glass. Neither of them spoke; the sound of chirping birds was the only soundtrack to their stroll. David broke the silence. “I’d like to read one of your books. Do you have any copies here?”

  Charlotte burst out laughing. “Trust me when I say this; you don’t want to read my books. Read Karen’s or Hendra’s. Not mine. They wouldn’t interest you.”

  David touched Charlotte’s arm, stopping her. “Why? You said you write romance novels, right?”

  “Yes.”

  David shaded his eyes with his hand. “Have you ever seen any of my movies? Okay, yes, I have made a few action films, but I’ve done more love stories than anything.”

  “Yeah, well, there are love stories and there are love stories.”

  “Oh, come on Charlotte--- I want to read one!” David pouted, demand bubbling up in his voice.

  Charlotte resumed walking and shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t have any copies here. If you really want one…well, you can go back into town and get one!” she grinned and gave him a wink. “Although- I’d like to see you try, considering I have the car keys.”

  David nodded his head, impressed by this worthy competitor. “So it’s like that, eh? Alright then; go into town and get me one.”

  “Yeah, like I’m going to walk into the local bookstore, where everyone knows me by name and buy my own book. I don’t think so.”

  David let out a low whistle. “Well, I’m sure I could convince one of the ladies to give me a lift into town.” He snapped his fingers. “You know, come to think of it, I am running out of toothpaste.”

  Charlotte gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Hmm. Maybe not. But you know that as soon as I leave here; I’ll read them all,” he teased. David turned to look at Charlotte, those green eyes affixed to her mouth. Charlotte licked her lips, nervous. “Have you ever seen any of my movies?” he asked; his voice husky.

  Charlotte shoved her hands in her pockets, a chill slicing over her in spite of the sun’s warmth.

  “A few.” She looked down at her feet. “Only one that I liked, though.”

  “Oh, yeah? Which one?”

  Charlotte cocked her head to the side. “The one where you and the girl are stuck in a snow-storm and have to screw all night to stay warm.” She paused. “Personally, I thought it was Oscar-worthy,” Charlotte said, her face quivering with corked laughter.

  “Well, that does it then. I’m finding a way into town--- even if I have to hitchhike and getting a book.” David tapped Charlotte’s arm. “I’m sure you must have a chapter or two where your characters need to stay warm.” David stopped. “Wait. That’s the only one you liked?”

  Charlotte laughed. He didn’t need to know that not only had she’d seen all of his movies---some twice--- but she also thought he was amazing in all of them. Now back in front of their cabin, Charlotte looked at her watch and saw that her first activity of the day was starting in ten minutes.

  Charlotte grabbed a book and a pad of paper out of her purse while David flopped on the couch. “Listen; I’ve got to head over to one of the other cabins for a few hours. You’re sure you can entertain yourself?”

  “I’ve actually got a script that William has been bugging me to read, so I’m going to do that, and no matter how brilliant it is I’m going to tell him it was dreadful.” David winked. “William’s a rather easy mark.”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes and opened the door. “Well… have fun with that.”

  #

  A famished and spent Charlotte made her way back to the cabin that afternoon. She’d just gotten out of the book club meeting, which was discussing Madame Bovary. The conversations had become rather rousing; while they could all agree she was amoral, the group couldn’t come to consensus on whether her foolish, fumbling husband, Charles had driven actions or if she would have wreaked the havoc she had, no matter whom she had married. All Charlotte wanted to do for the next few minutes was spend some quality time with a Twinkie.

  And David. David. She said his name softly and in spite of herself was thrilled at the thought of finding him waiting for her. Charlotte smoothed back her hair and took a few deep breaths before she opened the door.

  She found David in the chair across from the couch, laptop in hand, his feet propped up on the linen trunk that he had pulled over from underneath the window. He was in a trance, his lips moving in silence along with whatever he was reading on the screen. Charlotte closed the door, and David never even flinched. She jangled her keys a bit and made a show of setting her book and papers down on the coffee table. Still nothing. She stood for a moment, hands on hips, watching him, before she tapped him on the foot. He looked up startled and then smiled.

  “Oh, hello! Sorry I didn’t hear you come in. I was rather engrossed in this.” David brought his feet to the floor and placed the laptop on the trunk. “How is everyone?”

  Charlotte kicked off her shoes and sat on the couch across from him.

  “Good.” She placed her head in the palm of her hands.

  “Must be some script,” she said, dying to know if she’d get a peek at the next David King blockbuster.

  “Oh. Oh that. I finished that an hour ago,” David cast his eyes down and looked up at her through his eyelashes, a wicked smirk on his face. Charlotte wondered how many times he used that look to seduce the panties off women.

  Charlotte’s eyes narrowed to slits, knowing something was up and also weary from his constant teasing. “Okay, what is it--- what’s with the face?”

  “Nothing,” he said in a sing-song voice before he leaned toward her, that playful leer dancing on his lips. “Did you know you can download books on the Internet?” Charlotte’s face fell as she realized what he was driving at. “And, more important, did you know that you can download your books on the Internet?” He batted his eyes at her like a ten- year-old trying to charm his way into the cookie jar.

  Charlotte turned crimson. “Which one?” she asked, afraid of the answer.

  David leaned against the chair and folded his hands in his lap, pleased with his handiwork. “Well, I thought I’d start from the beginning of your series, ‘Hot Cabo Nights’ and then move on to ‘Parisian Pleasure,’ ” he said, unable to contain his rich, throaty laughter.

  Charlotte popped up from the couch and headed to the kitchen, beyond embarrassed. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself,” she squeaked. “Can I review your movies now?”

  “You already did!” he gasped with laughter. “Oscar-worthy---- remember?” He was now doubled, practically hyperventilating. Embarrassed, Charlotte fumbled through the cabinets in search of a Twinkie, but couldn’t locate them. Now of all times to not be able to find a Twinkie…

  “Charlotte, my dear, you are one naughty girl.”

  Charlotte found the Twinkie box but couldn’t get it open. She heard David stand and walk over to her. “I need a cold shower!”

  Charlotte ripped open the box and grabbed a snack cake, tearing into the cellophane wrap with her teeth. Her hands were shaking, and she felt like crawling in a hole.

  “Hey, look at me,” David said as he tugged on Charlotte’s shoulder to get her to turn around and face him. Charlotte looked down, but David tilted her chin up and pulled her face toward his. “You are a damn fine writer. I read up on you, and you’re well loved by your readers. You should be proud of that.”

  Charlotte sighed, still flustered over her sensitivity about her vocation. “I don’t write grea
t American novels, but they pay the bills.” Charlotte felt the beginning of a tear rim one eye and looked up at the ceiling, hoping she could make it glide back to where it came from. David’s proximity wasn’t helping her frazzled state. He broke away from her and leaned against the counter.

  “When did you write your first book?”

  Charlotte sat down at the kitchen table, where David joined her. “Twenty-two; I was lucky and got published my first time out of the gate.”

  “Twenty-two?” he yelped. “You could write that steamy stuff at twenty-two?”

  Charlotte shrugged and shoved a finger into the squishy white cream of her Twinkie. “My mother always told me I had an active imagination. All I did was use it for good, not evil.”

  David put his chin in his hand. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about Charlotte. I’ll give you this; you’re good with the written word... You ever thought about screenwriting?”

  Charlotte shook her head.

  ”You might do okay. Of course, the suits would have to tone it down though, unless you don’t object to an X rating.”

  Charlotte shot daggers in David’s direction, and he put his hand on her arm to calm her down. “Alright, alright; no more teasing.” He stared at her, a serious look on his face.

  “Friends do tease each other though, Charlotte, and I consider you a friend.”

  Charlotte’s tension slid away and she felt her breath release. She placed her hand over his, and the two gazed at each other for a moment before Charlotte cleared her throat and polished off the last of the Twinkie.

  “Well, I’m glad you think of me as a friend. Now be my best friend and make me a drink.”

  “More wine?”

  “Ugh, no. No wine for a few days. Actually, my drink of choice is a Cape Cod.”

  David crinkled his nose. “What’s that?”

  “Vodka and cranberry juice with a twist of lime and lots of ice.”

  David nodded and stood. “I think I can manage that.”

  “Thanks.”

  Charlotte stared out the window while she waited for David to finish making them drinks. He set one down in front of her and waited for her to try it.

  “Does it pass inspection?”

  Charlotte took a huge gulp and her eyes grew wide. “Whoa! Little on the strong side.” She coughed and plunked the glass down on the table. “Trying to get me drunk, huh?”

  David frowned and picked up the glass. “Let me sip.” He took a swig and nearly choked. “Wow. Sorry. I don’t make my own very often; I am obviously not good at it.”

  She took both their glasses. “Or too good at it,” she said as she went to the fridge to add a

  little more ice and cranberry juice.

  “You know, all the sex aside, Cabo Nights is a beautiful story. I’m rather looking forward to reading the next one. What a tragic ending though. Why do all the good love stories have to have such sad endings?”

  Charlotte smiled a little, secretly pleased he enjoyed her book. She rejoined him at the table. “Not all of them do,” she said as she took a sip of her new drink and nodded her approval.

  David looked at his watch. “So we’ve got about an hour before dinner. How about a game of cards?”

  Charlotte ran her fingertip along the rim of her glass. “Can I ask you a question?”

  ”Do you think it will take an hour?”

  Charlotte chuckled and shook her head. “No. I was just wondering. Where do you live? Do you have a house or homes? I guess, what I mean is, is there a place you call home?”

  “Well, I don’t really have a home.” He leaned back and drained his drink. “I rented a beach house in L.A. for about a year while I was filming a movie. I haven’t had the time to really shop for a home, and honestly I don’t know where I would look.” David stood to make himself a fresh drink. “I split my time pretty evenly between L.A. and New York, with lots of storage units in between.” He sat back down at the table. “You mentioned L.A. earlier. Where in L.A. are you?”

  Charlotte didn’t realize she was holding her breath. Did he have any idea how beautiful he was? The long graceful fingers, juicy red lips, and glossy black hair that always seemed to fall into those green eyes at the sexiest of angles. She realized, as usual, he was looking her directly in the eye, hanging, it seemed, on her every word. She straightened up.

  “Santa Monica.”

  What kind of kisser was he? With lips like those he couldn’t be bad. Was he hard and passionate or slow and sexy? Charlotte felt herself start to tingle and took a drink to cool down. She caught a chunk of ice in her mouth. “Tell me about your parents,” she garbled through the ice.

  David grew quiet; the only sound was him swirling the ice around in his glass. “Well, my dad, Hugh, died when I was ten.”

  Charlotte nodded. “I remember you mentioned that at dinner last night. What happened?”

  “Heart attack in his sleep.” David snapped his fingers. “Just like that. Dead at forty-five.”

  “That’s awful. I’m sorry.”

  “My mum, Frances, never stopped crying. She was just so sad. She tried to soldier on, but there were too many memories of Dad in England. So she packed me up, and off to New York we went.”

  “Why New York?”

  “She had spent a summer there when she was at university and loved it. It seemed like the perfect place to make a fresh start. We used to call ourselves the ‘Two Musketeers’, taking on this brave new world. We had only each other.”

  “Sounds like you two are close.”

  David nodded, his eyes misting over. “Were. She died from breast cancer right after my first film came out.”

  Charlotte reached out and rested her hand on top of David’s. He gave it a quick squeeze.

  “What do you remember about your dad?” Charlotte asked.

  David let out a sigh, his mind shifting back to happier days. “Gosh. There are so many things.” David held his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “He used to read me a bedtime story every night. Sometimes we’d share a strawberry jam sandwich and bottle of ginger ale after kicking the football around on Sunday afternoons. Soccer, I guess you call it. One of my favorite memories is going to Piccadilly Circus. You’ve heard of it?”

  Charlotte nodded, “Yes, but I don’t know too much about it”.

  “Well, it’s a lot like Times Square in New York, if that helps. People, lights, shops all jammed into one another like bumper cars out of control. Anyway, we’d hop on the tube every Saturday, and Dad would buy me a little tin of jelly babies from the candy shop inside the station. We’d go into the listening booth of his favorite record shop, and he’d put these massive headphones on me, sound shooting out of each ear and filling up my little body with music. He played me his favorite singers; mostly American soul. Lots of Motown, Otis Redding, Sam Cooke, Aretha Franklin. Oh, gosh, he was mad for her. Funny enough, he wasn’t much of a Beatles fan.”

  “Really? I thought everyone loved the Beatles.”

  “No; he was much more of a Stones man.” He leaned back in his chair and gave her one of his intense gazes. “What about your family?”

  Charlotte’s cleared her throat.

  “Um--- well, both of my parents are also dead. My dad had a series of strokes and was gone within a few months. In less than a year my mom was gone too. The official ruling was ‘natural causes’ but it was of a broken heart, if you ask me.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  Charlotte gave him a wry grin before she continued. “They were in their seventies, married fifty years. They were told they could never have children, so they were pretty surprised when I came along.”

  “An ah-ha! baby.”

  “Precisely. They spoiled me rotten, treated me like a total princess. But it was all because they loved me so much, and for that I’m grateful.”

  “That’s tough they went so close together.”

  “Yes and no. They were extremely devoted to each other ---- never spent a day apart the
ir entire marriage. They used to joke that when one went, the other one would follow. Every night at dinner my mom would ask, ‘How was your day, Joe?’ and he would say “Boy, Marie, it was hard because I sure did miss you.’ And she’d always respond ‘and I missed you, too.’” Charlotte chuckled. “It was their little running joke. They had a lot of those. I used to think it was corny, but as I got older I realized how sweet it was. It’s my favorite childhood memory of them.”

  “It sounds like I would’ve liked them.” David said.

  “You would have. Everyone who knew them loved them.” Charlotte leaned forward. “Your parents sound amazing. I wish I could have met them.” She took another mouthful of ice. “Did your mother ever find love again?”

  David shook his head, his voice foggy. “No…she never did. When she got the cancer diagnosis, she was eerily calm. I asked her why she wasn’t more upset. I mean I was ready to tear the doctor’s office apart if it meant I’d find a cure. She just told me she would fight it but that if she lost the battle, at least she could be with my father again. She seemed to miss him more as time went on, though she put on a brave face for me.”

  “Our parents sound similar,” Charlotte said quietly.

  “Yeah. Like kindred spirits or something.” David swallowed the last of his drink and looked at her glass. “Want another one?”

  “Only if I want to show up drunk at dinner.”

  David took their glasses and rinsed them in the sink. “Good point. Okay then, let’s wait until dinner to have another.” They started to walk to the door. “What do you suppose the topic of conversation will be tonight?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe we could start a topic. If you really want to get them going, we can discuss the pay difference between NBA players and teachers,” she giggled.

  “Oh no, don’t do that. Because then they may bring up overpaid actors, and I rather like being an overpaid actor.”

  Charlotte laughed.

  #

  As they walked to dinner they met up with Angela and Hendra.

  “Well hello you two,” Hendra purred. “Hungry I hope?”

  David smiled. “Indeed. I was so engrossed in reading a script, I skipped lunch completely.” He winked at Charlotte, who just shook her head. David held the door to the dining room open, where only mild chaos was underway. Karen was on dinner duty, which usually resulted in madness of some kind. Woman ran back and forth from the kitchen brandishing pots, plates, platters, and glasses.