"Cute. You look really cute."
He walked to the door and grasped the handle. Still stunned by her off-target expectations, Jessica did not move from her position, her emotions a mixed bag of hurt and relief.
"I, uh, think my date might be here," he said, clearing his throat and pulling the mask from his pocket. "Better put this back on, huh? Roxanne will have my ass."
Jessica nodded. "You go on. I’ll be in in a minute."
"Suit yourself. Don’t get cold."
He was gone then, and Jessica stared after him in disbelief and disappointment. Disappointment in herself. She stared at the rose, still in her hand, and without further reflection, tossed it over the side.
Through the windows she watched as Dane greeted a petite redhead with a seductive smile and an honest D-cup.
She was crazy if she thought that for a couple of hours, she could be someone else, he could be someone else. That, even for a few minutes--the time it took to dance a slow dance--she could forget.
But then, she had always considered herself a little bit crazy.
~ * ~
Trina Vidal was well cast, Dane decided, as a warrior princess, albeit a small one. Looking somewhat like a three-quarter version of Xena, Trina made up for her lack of mass with an in-your-face demeanor.
Physically, she was a knock-out.
Personally, Dane could do without her. She was nice enough, but definitely not his type; his conscience suggested that he may be, once again, flirting with disaster.
So why had he invited her? Watching her now as she worked the room, chatting up the "A" list attendees and no doubt lauding her services, Dane wished he had not invited her, or anyone else, for that matter. In contrast, Jessica sat one table away, demurely listening while the matronly actress sitting beside her imparted some late-breaking Hollywood news. She looked regal, yet vulnerable… or was it only his imagination?
The blonde tresses, swept up into the intricate coiffure, intrigued him. He wondered, fleetingly, what it would look like hanging down around her face, her beautiful face, flushed with passion…
"Centime for your thoughts?" Trina asked, bursting into his vision like a buffalo leaping onto a cloud.
"I’m sorry?"
"You know, I don’t usually date clients," she said, taking a sip of her Perrier and avoiding his eyes.
"That’s what I like about you. You’re a woman of principal," Dane said dryly. "I’m ready to go. How about you?"
"Certainly not! We have to stay for the unmasking."
Before Dane could protest, a waiter appeared, offering after dinner drinks.
"Nothing for me," Trina said with a little flip of her hand.
Watching her, Dane became newly annoyed. "Southern Comfort," he asserted, and the nodding waiter backed away. He continued to look around the room while waiting for his drink, trying not to focus on the exquisite woman in the green velvet gown. Trina chattered incessantly, and Dane caught only a word or two of her dissertation. Checking his watch, he sighed in impatience, pressing his fingertips together.
"I need to walk around," he said at last. "Will you excuse me?"
"Do I have a choice?"
Dane gave her a genuine smile, then turned to survey the room. It was nearing midnight, and he decided to take a short tour of the auction items in the adjoining ballroom.
He snickered to himself at the items some believed to be treasures. "Should have offered my toothbrush," he muttered in amazement while examining an empty Winston package autographed by Zachary Slade.
Not all of the items were so ostentatious. Travel packages, wardrobe items, personal appearances were offered to the adoring public, allowed into this room but not the other. Bid sheets were mostly filled, many outbidding the stated value of the item. Dane shook his head.
Surely there was something here he could stand to bid on.
A ski trip to Vale. Season Dodger tickets. A Newport Beach yacht excursion. Yawn.
It was more amusing to look at the donor’s names. In additional to his so tasteful cigarette package offering, Zach Slade had ponied up an autographed copy of the Bellerive script.
Bellerive. Dane chewed on his upper lip as he thumbed through the script, pausing for a moment to peruse the page bearing the dialog between the rogue pirate captain and the young lady in waiting. It was the first time he had laid eyes on the woman that would come to change his life forever.
Spunky, she was. She didn’t like him much, but he’d eventually won her over. For about ten minutes in time.
Dane put down the script.
The next item was a weekend for two at a bed and breakfast in Northern California, donated by Jessica MacKendall and Brian Winslow.
Puzzled, Dane stared at the names on the auction card. Who was Brian Winslow? He made a mental note to check it out later. They were calling him back to the party.
Back in the main ballroom, he took a moment to scan the crowded room. Nearly everyone was now standing, making it next to impossible to locate Trina until he heard her too loud laughter coming from the area adjacent to the bar. Zachary Slade had apparently proffered some amusing anecdote, one Dane was certain he was happy to have missed.
"Dane! Dane, come over here. Have you met Zach?"
"Yes, I believe so," Dane said, extending a handshake. "By the way, I signed your script in there, it’s now worth twice as much."
Zachary gave him a sour smile, then chugged the rest of his drink. Dane grinned, taking a small sip of his own. "Some asshole wrote your name on an empty pack of smokes, so I threw it out. Can you imagine someone doing that? What lousy taste." He took Trina by the elbow and gently urged her away from the bar.
"Not that I really care, but you’d do better to stay away from that guy," he said close to her ear.
"I can take care of myself."
"I’m sure you can. My mistake."
"You didn’t really, did you?" she asked, turning to look up at him expectantly when they were out of earshot.
"What, get rid of his trash? I didn’t lay a finger on his crap. He can be a loser without my help."
Before he could comment further, Dane was interrupted by the feedback of a microphone on stage. Tom Jarrick was untangling the cord.
"Just a brief announcement… thanks to the generous efforts of all the folks here tonight, I’m extremely happy to report that current tally puts us at nearly one-hundred thousand dollars in donations for the Los Angeles Chapter of the Make-a-Wish Foundation."
A general shriek emanated from the crowd.
"The silent auction is now closed, and the final figures will be announced in about an hour. If you purchased something at the auction, you’ll have to stay until the sale is finalized… but even more importantly it’s now time to remove your masks. And…" Tom was forced to raise his hands in an attempt to quiet the group. "If you’ll be so kind, there are markers at each table, if you will please autograph your mask and leave it behind, the masks are also being donated to the Foundation for their further fund-raising efforts."
Dane chuckled. "I think we should all just sign Zach’s name. What do you think?" he called out.
Tom returned the laugh. "Why not?"
Beside him, his wife was scowling, her eyes traveling from Tom to Dane and back. On cue, the band resumed their classic rock repertoire, and Dane realized Trina had again slipped away. Stopping at the nearest table, he picked up a silver paint rollerpoint and signed his name on the black silk mask, leaving it beside the centerpiece.
He wandered about the room, looking for Trina, wishing he could just sneak away without her. Perhaps some emergency could arise, and, unable to find her, he might just… he stopped at the edge of the stage, watching with interest as Jessica swept onto the dance floor with a man he didn’t recognize. A man wearing green tights and a feathered hat.
"Okay. Let’s go." Trina appeared out of nowhere, tugging on his shirtsleeve with a yawn.
"In a minute," he said. "We should dance."
"Hu
h?"
He dragged Trina into the throngs of waltzers, smoothly guiding her across the floor, avoiding collisions as he neatly maneuvered her nearer Jessica and her partner.
"If you get any closer you’ll tread on her dress," Trina was saying.
"Who?"
"Is her name Pavlov? You’ve been drooling over her all evening. Tell me, did her Mammy make her that gown out of her mother’s good drapes?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Dane asked, frowning down at the undersized dynamo in his arms.
"You’re worthless, you know that?"
"At least that’s something I can understand," he answered with a grin, finally catching Jessica’s eye. "Actually, worthless is pretty mild."
Trina just shook her head as Dane’s eyes were again fixed on the vision in green velvet.
~ * ~
"Did you say your name was Robin?" Jessica asked, tearing her eyes away from Dane and back to the blushing man leading her around the floor. "As in, Hood?"
"Only for tonight. Usually, it’s Quill. I’m just down from B.C. Looking for a niche, you know? It’s hard to get work here."
"How did you get in? I mean, no offense, but the guest list was pretty exclusive."
"Tom’s my mentor. I’m somehow related to his ex-wife, she’s my cousin, I think, I don’t know, anyway, I’m an actor, or will be one, I hope, someday, I’m sorry, I’m just rattling on…"
Jessica laughed.
"That’s okay. I run off at the mouth quite regularly."
She really looked at the man now, noticing his curly, golden-brown hair and eyes that nearly matched.
"What kind of part are you looking for?"
"What am I not looking for? I just did a commercial for flea collars, and I’m supposed to do another one for some exercise device--just missed getting a shot on a thirty second Toyota ad."
Jessica grimaced. "I know how you feel. It’s really hard to break in. I only got into it by accident." She paused, noticing the perpetual color in Robin’s cheeks. "Hasn’t Tom been able to help you out at all?"
"I think he would if he could."
"But you’ve never done feature film work."
"Nope. I did some modeling when I first came here."
"Modeling? What kind?"
"Beachwear. Me, in some skimpy little Speedo or something, and a surfboard. Funny, because I can barely swim."
Jessica giggled. There was something so charming about this young stranger that made her like him instantly.
"I’m going to give you a card. I want you to call these people and tell them I said to give you a screen test."
Robin looked at her in sheer disbelief. "You’re kidding, right?"
"Why should I joke about something that important? I know the owner of Casting One personally, so be sure to tell them Jessica MacKendall told you to call."
He stepped on the edge of her gown then, causing her to trip and fall against him; he broke her fall with his arms. "Oh I am so sorry! I am such a klutz…"
"It’s okay, really." The song was ending anyway, and Jessica took a deep breath and was immediately sorry. Robin could not keep his eyes from her neckline, her tight bodice threatening to expose all.
"You, uh, just make that call," she repeated, backing away. "And good luck! It was nice meeting you."
"Oh, the pleasure was all mine…"
~ * ~
The light was red, and Dane applied the brake. The Corvette came to a smooth, firm stop. The car was certainly responsive, if Dane wasn’t.
"You’re tense," Trina said, but she seemed unconcerned about Dane’s tight grip on the steering wheel.
"No, not at all." Do things differently, he reminded himself again. Change. That was his new by-word. "Nice automobile," he said, staring hard at the red light on the corner. Should have taken the limo.
"Well, I’ve gotta hand it to you, I didn’t think you could do it, but you look fabulous. You had every girl in that room wanting to take you home."
"That so," he mused, now drumming his fingertips on the steering wheel. "Every one of them?"
Only one mattered. And that one was no longer wearing a wedding ring. But it was too soon. Too soon!
Change. In the past, he might have suggested they get together on a more intimate level. And although Jessica seemed comfortable… hell, dare he think affectionate? He knew pushing her was exactly the wrong thing to do. No, he had to be patient.
In the meantime, he had the she-warrior to keep him company.
Nine
Confessions
Jessica checked her purse for the tickets. Still there, zippered in, just where she’d placed them the night before. She was nearly hyperventilating at the prospect of getting on another airplane, this one bound for Seattle.
Tom and Roxanne had insisted upon seeing them off.
"Really, I could take a cab," she argued half-heartedly as Tom loaded their bags into his trunk.
"S’pose you could," he muttered, with a bemused expression. "But then you wouldn’t owe us a trip to the airport."
Devon was quiet. Jessica prayed he wasn’t worrying about the flight, his third since his father’s death in an airplane.
"Excited about seeing Gramma?" she asked, squatting down to give him a little hug.
"Yeah," he said in a voice so small it broke her heart.
At the Alaska Airlines terminal, Roxanne hugged her girlfriend. "Have a great Thanksgiving, hear?"
"We will. It sure will be different being with my family," Jessica said with a courage she didn’t really feel. "You, too."
Devon fell asleep soon after take-off and Jessica was immensely grateful. At least she could relax while he napped. She even dozed off and on before the final descent into Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. How long had it been since she had seen Paul and Terry?
Jessica was fond of her younger brother but never close to him. He had failed to come to her wedding and had met Mac only once, when they had traveled to Seattle for a visit. Now he was opening his home to her, Chrissie and their mother for the long-planned family reunion.
Paul was waiting at the gate.
"Hey, stranger!" he called, wrapping her in a bear hug that would not quit. "And the little slugger, what’s up, my man?"
Devon stared at his Uncle Paul, his eyes like saucers.
"Mom’s already got the turkey thawed. She’s choppin’ away like a banshee, there’s celery and onions flyin’ all over the place," Paul told them as they hustled through the terminal after picking up the luggage. "She can’t wait to see you guys. Especially you, Damon."
"It’s Devon. Thanks so much for picking us up, Paul."
"No problem. It’s the silver mini over there," her brother said, pointing out a more-gray-than-silver minivan with hazy windows. "Never get the chance to clean the darn thing."
"Oh." Jessica looked with dismay into the center seat of the van. "I thought you said you had a car seat."
"Built in. Right in the middle there."
Relieved, Jessica belted her son into the center seat and joined her brother in the front. This was going to be an interesting weekend.
Looking around the dinner table Jessica felt oddly out of place. Here was her mother; her sister and Nick, and their daughter Angel; her brother and his wife Teresa. And of course, little Devon. It had been so many years, and so many changes had occurred in her life that she no longer fit her piece of the family puzzle. Chrissie was the only one to whom she felt close, and even then it was a remote sort of closeness.
Chrissie was pregnant again. And while she was thrilled for her twin sister, she couldn’t help feeling a sad emptiness inside. She herself would be six months pregnant right now, if only… She dashed the thought before it could hurt her again.
When it came time to say grace before the meal, probably the only meal of the year when it truly seemed appropriate to Jessica, she listened to all those blessings counted by those around her. Good health, food on the table, friends and family. All the usu
al things people give thanks for on the last Thursday in November. She dreaded taking her turn, for no matter what she said, she knew what the others would be thinking.
A year ago she had everything in the world to be thankful for. This year, most of that everything was gone.
"So what’s it like, living among the gods?" Paul asked, scooping an enormous portion of mashed potatoes onto his plate. "Feel like royalty?"
Jessica took a deep breath to keep from sniping back at her brother. She had to remember how far removed the Microsoft engineer was from the reality--or non-reality--of Hollywood.
"It’s different," she said at last.
"Lonely at the top?" he prompted, his tone not as friendly as it might have been.
"Not at all." Jessica whipped back. "I have a lot of friends. And I don’t consider myself to be at the top of anything."
"I’d say you’re on top of a pretty good pile of cash."
Jessica tilted her head slightly, and Christine reddened.
"I don’t think Jessica’s financial situation is any of your concern," Jan pointed out. "She’s still just your sister, my daughter, and Devon’s mother."
Paul smiled whimsically. "Right. Having several million dollars in the bank doesn’t change a thing."
Jessica smiled back. "Well, you’re right of course. And to think that I turned down offers from your boss, the President, and Buckingham Palace all to have dinner with you low-lifers."
At her comment, Nick Reeves burst into laughter, and everyone else followed suit. The tension was broken, but Jessica was now reminded of why she did not visit her brother more often.
With Nick and Paul firmly rooted before the television and the afternoon football games, the women crammed into the small kitchen to clean up and talk. Much of the buzz was over Christine’s baby. Everyone was excited at the prospect of a new baby in the family, especially since it was generally known that Terry and Paul had decided against having children. Of course, Jessica was not expected to have more, not now.
Devon reluctantly trudged off to play with Angelica in the den. Jessica watched him go with mixed feelings. There was a part of her that wanted to scoop him up and catch the next plane home. But the doctor had warned her not to go out of her way to shield him from the world. Grieving is a natural process, he advised, and she should refrain from being overly protective. He would need to develop coping strategies of his own.
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