He went on to describe the character, but Erica was only listening with half an ear. Strange Bedfellows. That’s Gunther’s movie. Is he the friend? Oh my God. I can’t do this.
“Who’s your friend?”
“Gunther Quill. I’ve already told him about you.”
Erica’s heart skipped a beat, and her lungs ceased to work. Whit smiled. “He’s very anxious to meet you.”
Shit. “When is it? I’m not sure I can go…” Stupid lies. Now I’m going to miss out on a great opportunity. Crap!
Whit frowned. “Look, I’ve gone out on a limb for you, Erica. If you’re going to go primadonna on me, well, hell. You can just leave this class. I’m only interested in serious students here. Students who put their craft first. I’m sure there are ten kids in this class who would trade places with you in a heartbeat.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I’ll be there. I promise.”
A smile brightened up the chubby face of the acting coach. “Good. I’ll tell Gunther to expect you. And good luck, my dear.”
She didn’t remember leaving the studio, but suddenly she was outside, walking to her car with Sam.
“You lucky bitch!”
She directed her gaze on him. “What did you say?”
“You’re so lucky! A second chance after you crapped out on the first one. He must have the hots for you.”
“Thanks for being so supportive, Sam.” Erica turned away from him.
“Maybe I should call Mr. Quill and tell him his lying little squeeze is going to be trying out.”
She whirled around to face him. “You wouldn’t!”
“Wouldn’t I? Whit obviously wants to make it with you, too.”
“I’m going to find a way to get Gunther away from that audition Friday. Don’t you dare tell him.”
“Why not?” His eyes glistened. “Make room for someone else in our class, like maybe Beth.”
“You have the hots for Beth?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know, Miss Erica, Stone-cold-bitch?”
She raised her hand to slap him, but he grabbed her wrist before she made contact.
Whitmarsh Eddy walked by. “Rehearsing? Nice of you to prep her for the audition, Sam.” He continued on to his car.
“I’m not gonna call him. Maybe if he’s not there, you won’t get the part. Sleeping with the producer is a guarantee of a contract, isn’t it?”
Gunther will bust an artery if he sees me there.
“Right, Sam. Don’t call. Let me fail. We both know I don’t have what it takes to do this. No guts. So let me do the audition for Bedfellows, and then the chance’ll go to Beth. You can tell her you discouraged me, and maybe she’ll sleep with you.”
“I don’t have any trouble finding women to sleep with me.”
“Good. Then you won’t miss me.” Erica turned on her heel and headed toward her rust bucket with less confidence than she displayed. He’s jealous, and now he’s not my friend any more. Was he ever?
“Break a leg, Erica. In fact, break both, and your neck, too!” Sam called after her.
The angry words brought a chill to her bones. Maybe I’m not cut out for this business. How bad do I want this dream? Sam hates me. Am I going to be alone forever? She brushed aside the sadness and forced determination into her heart. Haven’t lost anything. Sam was never my friend. I’m going to get Gunther to go somewhere, and then I’m going to nail this audition. I need this. I’ll deal with the fallout later. It’s my dream. I need to go for it, even if I fail.
The decrepit vehicle turned over on the first try. Erica saw that as a good sign and steered onto the highway, letting her dreams fill her thoughts.
The next day at the office, Erica decided to try to set up a meeting between Gunther and Grace Brewster. Max’s birthday bash had been a huge success. Gunther had apologized profusely to Grace. He’d offered to donate a thousand dollars to her favorite charity. She had expressed regret for her attack on him. They were seen smiling and chatting. Although they weren’t exactly bosom buddies, they were friendly enough to work together when the party broke up.
If I can get Gunther involved in a script conference with Grace, then he’ll miss the my audition. He’s dying for her to do the movie version of Sway. She called Grace and set it up for five o’clock, the time of the audition. Then, she took a deep breath and walked into his office.
“I’ve set up a conference for you with Grace Brewster on Friday at five. Put it on your calendar.”
“Hmm. Friday at five. I thought I had something else then?”
“You’re not good with these things. Gimme.” Erica snatched the phone from him and quickly erased the audition from his schedule. “Nope. Nothing here.”
“I thought I had…give that back.” He reached out, and she put it in his hand, smiling to herself. He opened the calendar and scrolled through several times.
“You’re right. Nothing there.”
“So put this in, okay?” She turned to go.
“She coming here?”
Erica called over her shoulder. “She is. And I’m going to have her favorite coffee with a cheese Danish or two.” She closed his door and leaned against it, letting out the breath she’d been holding. He trusts me. No suspicion at all.
That night she brought home the script for Strange Bedfellows. She studied the part until she could recite any of Violet’s scenes by heart. Her confidence grew as she got to know the character. Whit was right, this part is perfect for me.
Happy anticipation grew inside her as the day approached. Now that Gunther was out of the way, she knew she could give a great performance, and he’d never know. In fact, she chuckled to think he’d want her to do a contract for “Erica Stone.” I don’t have the part yet. Slow down.
To ease her guilty conscience, she catered to Gunther like never before. She bought special coffee for him, charted the box office for Hustle and Dance all the way down to the smallest markets. She typed up a report on the receipts for Sway. Gunther’s projects were all doing well, and he was the most cheerful she’d ever seen.
On Friday, she couldn’t sit still. In order not to be late to the audition, she lied about a dentist appointment and planned to leave at three. She set up the coffeemaker for Grace, showed Gunther where the cheese Danish was, and kissed him goodbye.
“A kiss before going to the dentist? I like the affection, but it’s only the dentist.”
She stopped short. Don’t overdo it. Play it light. “Why not?” she tossed off, grabbing her purse and heading for the door. Once she was in the car, she took a deep breath. That was close. I’m sorry, Gunther, but I need to do this. She drove off, putting him out of her mind and focusing on the part of Violet.
* * * *
Gunther leaned back in his chair. Could life get any better? Business was great. Hustle and Dance was bringing in a ton of money, and the European release looked promising. Sway was sold out for six months. He smiled. A ding on his computer drew his attention. An email from Whit. He opened it.
Am anxious to hear what you think of Erica Stone. Call me after the audition.
Gunther bolted upright. Shit! The audition for Strange Bedfellows! Fuck, I forgot! I could swear I’d put that on my calendar. He dialed Grace Brewster and explained the schedule mix-up, apologizing profusely. He could tell she wasn’t pleased, and it worried him. He needed her.
Within five minutes, he was in the parking lot, putting the key in his Ferrari. I gotta make that audition. He screeched to a halt, pulled into the first space he could find, and hustled into the building. He entered the studio just as the casting director announced “Erica Stone.” Gunther slipped into a seat three rows from the back so as not to be disruptive.
Erica walked out from the wings with the script in her hand. Gunther rubbed his eyes. I’m so in love, I’m seeing her everywhere. But it was still his Erica. He got up and strode down the aisle. He needed to be closer. Obviously, his eyesight was going. The casting director turne
d and greeted him. He slipped into the row behind the director and other producers. Then, he saw Erica look up, recognize him, and freeze. Erica is that you? But he knew it was. What are you doing here?
Still, he didn’t want to believe. You’re an actress? No. You said you weren’t. You lied to me? He had been betrayed. He was hurt, mortally wounded. Pain seared through his body before his mind kicked in. For the first time since Laurel died, tears pricked at the back of Gunther’s eyes. He had loved her, only to be her dupe, her stepping stone. She had tricked him into caring about her. But it was all about her ambition, only her ambition, not about love.
Then, Gunther Quill the survivor kicked in. Rage entered his heart. He could hardly control his anger and sensed his face was turning red. He tried some breathing techniques that Whit had showed him to control anger. They worked, temporarily. He turned his attention to her and said in his iciest tone, “Please proceed, Ms. Stone. Don’t let me interrupt.”
“Erica, turn to the scene where Violet tells Ted she’s pregnant.”
Gunther couldn’t take his eyes off her. She had turned several shades paler. The director asked her if she needed a minute, or if she wanted to lie down, but the actress shook her head.
“This is a very emotional scene, Ms. Stone. Violet has been betrayed by her lover. Give me everything. Show us what you have.”
Betrayal? You should be able to do that perfectly, Miss Jezebel. Gunther sat back, staring at her, his fingertips pressed together. Erica looked at him then at the script. Her hand shook as she turned the pages.
“Nothing to be nervous about. Just read the scene, honey,” the casting director said.
Gunther watched her take a deep breath and close her eyes. When she opened them, she was staring directly at him. So, she’s going to play this scene to me? What a joke! His anger grew. She can’t be any good. I hope she fails.
Erica straightened up, took a deep breath, and then got into character. She spoke clearly, enunciating perfectly. She tossed her head as she read her lover the riot act. Pacing back and forth, she moved her gaze from the ceiling to Gunther and back again.
Damn, the bitch is good. He was mesmerized by her performance. As she continued, the subtle shake in her voice disappeared. She seemed to grow in confidence and no longer needed to look at the script. The casting director and other producers were hanging on every word. Erica gestured and strutted, spitting angry lines in Gunther’s direction, then drawing back and tearing up. Her emotional range was impressive.
When she finished, there was a second of silence, then a round of hearty applause. It was like a sword through his heart. She was good, very good. Obviously, she’d won over the director and the producers, too. She’d nailed it. She’d be getting the part. Gunther’s emotions bounced all over the place, from hate to sadness, from betrayal to longing. He didn’t know which way was up. I’m out of control. I’m never out of control.
The concept that she had played him for a fool, just to forward her ambition, bit into him like a snake’s fangs. The venom growing in his veins cut off his feelings from his mind. The love in his heart began to disintegrate, replaced by loathing. The great Gunther Quill, a fool. An idiot. Used. She’s good. She’s very good. I didn’t see it coming.
Flashes of beautiful moments with Erica became tainted. Her sweetness toward him, he now saw as a set-up. She’s the great manipulator. Taken in by a pretty face. He snorted, a rueful laugh escaping his lips.
“Honey, that was great! Give me the name of your agent, and we’ll talk terms,” said the casting director, opening up his phone.
Amid the noisy praise and questions and answers, Gunther rose. Weakness made his legs like rubber. He gripped the chair back to steady himself. How the hell am I going to drive home?
Erica caught up with him. She put her hand on his arm. “Gunther…please. Let me explain.”
He shook her off. If he could have shot fire from his eyes, he would have. “No explanations necessary. The great producer was taken to the cleaners by the innocent little girl from the sticks. I get it.”
“Am I fired?”
“What do you think?”
“That’s why I’m asking.”
“Of course, you’re fired. Clean out your desk tonight and never come back.” He turned away from her, but still heard her gasp. “I’ll be changing the locks tomorrow,” he tossed off, to be sure she knew he meant business.
“I never meant to hurt you. I love you.” She followed him to the door.
The irony of the situation struck him. A sardonic smile twisted his lips. “Really? You’ve done nothing but lie to me from the start. You love me? Could have fooled me. Seems like you used me to get your chance at fame. Well, you got it. So leave me alone.”
“Isn’t that the way Gunther Quill rolls?” she said, her hands on her hips, her eyes dry.
He turned to face her. “You have the nerve to say that to me? I have never prostituted myself to get what I want. Never pretended to be in love to achieve my goals.”
She slapped his face then shrank back in horror. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“Liar. Yes, you did.” The sting on his cheek matched the sting in his heart. He thought she loved him, though she had never said she did. But all the time, it was his power, his connections, she loved. His internal wound was gushing blood, making him grow weaker. I need to get away before I do something I’ll regret. Like cry.
He was surprised by the depth of his emotions. Sadness pushed anger out of his heart. He had loved her, thought she loved him. He wanted her, wanted her to love him. Needed her to love him. Now, it had all gone up in smoke. He grasped at the bond he thought they had, but it turned to ashes in his hand. You fool. She never felt for you what you did for her.
She inched closer. “I’ve always loved you. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. I didn’t think you could love me.”
“I don’t.” he spat it out. Lying to hurt her. You’re as low as she. She recoiled as if he had hit her. He couldn’t shut up. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re just another girl in my life.” A look of hurt flashed across her face, and her eyes watered. Seeing how he was wounding her shamed him, but he couldn’t stop. What are you doing?
All of a sudden, he wanted to inflict a blow as deep and deadly as the one she had dealt him. He knew he still wanted her, loved her, but he couldn’t help himself “You’re just another vain, selfish woman who thinks she can act. A chick who wants fame, money, glamour…to make up for the fact her father doesn’t give a shit about her.”
That struck its mark, and the minute it left his lips, he regretted it. She drew in a big breath, and the tears began to flow. “How can you? How could you? Say something so…” she stuttered.
“How could I? How could you! That’s the question here. Let’s not turn this around. It’s you who has inflicted the fatal blow to us. You’re the betrayer. You! Not I!” His control faltered. Tears crept through his defenses, filling his eyes. His chin quivered. He had to get out of there before he succumbed to the ultimate humiliation—crying in front of her, like a jilted lover.
He flung open the door and hurried outside. Fumbling through his pockets, he finally located the keys to the Ferrari and got inside. He locked the doors and put his head down on the steering wheel. In a few seconds, he composed himself and looked around. Thank God. I’m alone.
As he backed out of the parking space, he saw Erica come out the front. She leaned against the doorframe, looking crumpled and weak. You did that to her. You. In her moment of triumph, you stabbed her through the heart. I hope you know what you’re doing.
But he didn’t and that made him tremble. Gunther Quill had known his every move in advance for the past ten years. But not now. He was like a blind man, groping in the dark, reaching out, looking for a chair, a wall to lean on, something to prop him up, but finding none.
He drove straight to the beach, poured a scotch on the rocks, and sat on the deck, watching the ocean. Gunther Quill,
rake, smooth producer, impervious to the flutterings of the heart, had finally had his broken. The agony was almost as bad as when he had lost Laurel. He hadn’t had any pain for years and years. He’d guarded his inner feelings well. But Erica had crept in, slowly, under the barbed wire fences protecting his emotions.
For the first time in twenty years, Gunther didn’t know what to do. He had no plan. He simply drank and brooded. He replayed every day with Erica in his head. There were no clues that she had been doing this. No, he hadn’t missed anything. He had taken her at face value, something he rarely did. Now he remembered why. Nobody is what they appear to be. Why did I think she was?
We could have had it all. Been the power couple. Together, we could’ve taken East West Productions to the top. How can I do it without her? Even now, he’d still be forced to be around her on the set of Strange Bedfellows. The agony of facing her day after day on the set, watching her with her co-star, wondering if she was sleeping with him, caused new heartache.
He didn’t want to sleep with anyone else. He wanted only Erica, but not the new, devious, deceptive Erica. He wanted the sweet, genuine, loving Erica he had thought he had.
She was a myth of your imagination. Get over it. You didn’t lose anything. You never had anything. She was never what she appeared to be, what you thought she was. She was a liar, deceiver, user. He mourned the death of his ideal. The Erica he had loved hadn’t existed. He’d fallen for a vapor, an excellent performance, not a real woman.
By his third scotch, he no longer cared to analyze their every moment together. He was on the verge of big success, made sweeter because he had shared it with Erica. Now that was over. Where his heart had been filled with love, expectations, anticipation, it was now filled with emptiness. She called me “darling.” Was that a lie, too? Probably.
The alcohol and despair overwhelmed him. He stumbled into his bed and fell sound asleep with his clothes on. An hour later, he woke up. Realizing she’d be at his office packing her things, he panicked at the idea she might take confidential information with her.
Lovers & Liars Page 12