"Hmm. Wonderful." Jessica thumbed through the high color, glossy pages. Yup, there was her husband, looking thin, looking tough, looking… at the starlet from the film. Lisa Lee Falconi. The girl, a twenty-something starlet from Reseda, California, was looking thin, looking sexy, looking… at Dane. Was it off-camera, or a still from the picture?
"Stars Dane Pierce and Lisa Lee chum around during a break in the action…"
Jessica’s teeth began to grind. She remembered, all too well, a day when that photo was of her and Dane. A day when Dane was still married to Rita. Alexander’s "Mom One."
Quickly she deposited the magazine back onto the rack. "Come on. Let’s get some ice cream."
The counter in the ice cream shop was empty, so they sat on stools and devoured the largest sundaes they could handle. Jessica scraped the last of the hot fudge from the bottom of the bowl and popped the spoon into her mouth with a satisfied "Mmmm."
Alexander couldn’t quite finish his. "Wow. I didn’t think you could do it, Mom Two."
"I adore ice cream," she said simply, sliding off the stool and patting her stomach. "And these pants were already too tight. I can barely walk!" Jessica giggled and Alexander laughed.
"Aw, you’re not fat," he said with a little blush.
"I am, too! And I know why," Jessica said, brushing her hair away from her face. "I’ve done nothing but sit around since I moved up here! Sit and eat. It’s no wonder I’m becoming such a cow. I couldn’t get a role now if I tried."
"You won’t, will you?" her young companion asked, a wary expression on his face.
"Nope. I’m off the market right now, kiddo."
With Alexander contentedly lugging a 3,000 piece Lego building set to the truck, Jessica counted their trip to town a successful birthday activity. Despite the loathsome picture of Dane and the new leading lady in his life. Er, film.
Twenty-eight
Mrs. Pierce Goes to Town
"Looks like our winter is finally here," Jessica said while dressing Devon in his warmest pants and sweatshirt. "November is warm at home, compared to here."
"I love snow, Mommy."
"Good for you," Jessica said softly. Snow falling gently outside while you were cuddled up inside with the one you loved, before a roaring fire… she loved that kind of snow. Snow that blew in and turned your carpeting into permafrost every time you opened the door, froze your windshield wipers to the glass and disguised the road leading back home was a nightmare.
And yes, the road was the one leading back home. As much as she loved the ranch, Los Angeles was and would always be her home. It was where she’d grown up, gone to school and worked all her life. And right now, it was where her husband was living.
Her connection, of course, was the telephone. Every time it rang, she leaped on it like a cougar after a famine. This particular call, however, was not good news.
"Don’t go far," she called after Devon who was going out the front door as she reached for the phone.
"Hello Jessica-my-love."
"Teddy! What a surprise! Gosh, it’s great to hear your voice. Tell me Spielberg wants me for something. Anything!"
Theodore Langley chuckled, then clucked his tongue. "Now sugarplum, you told Uncle Theo that you were unavailable. You want a deal, just say so. But listen, I’ve got some bad news. Kyle Wagner was killed last night."
Jessica sank into her rocking chair. "Oh, no… What happened?"
"Car accident. Word on the boulevard is, he was lately into speedballs. He probably shot up before getting behind the wheel."
"Speedballs? Isn’t that cocaine and… and…"
"Heroine, darling. A real suicide cocktail if you ask me. Anyway, I knew you two were friends so I thought I’d let you know. They’re talking funeral on Friday. Dane’s still in town, isn’t he?"
Last I heard, she thought with chagrin. Surely he’d heard about Kyle, but had chosen not to call her. Probably spending all his time "chumming" around with that Lisa Lee woman. "Yeah. He is." Jessica pushed her bangs back and blew out a heavy sigh. "I’ll… I’ll be there. Somehow. Would you call me back when you find out where and what time?"
"Sure, Jessie. Sorry for the bad news, love."
~ * ~
She had the limo driver take her straight to the cemetery. The crowd of celebrities was impressive, and many made subtle efforts to welcome her home.
The funeral was graveside. Jessica melted into a group of people with whom she was comfortable and only half listened to the minister’s eulogy while keeping an eye out for her husband. Yet Dane didn’t show. She wasn’t really surprised; when she’d called him about Kyle, he’d remained cool and unemotional. He would try to make it, he’d said, but wasn’t sure. He was working.
Holding her chin high, Jessica purposely disengaged herself from the surroundings. It was so like the sunny hillside where Mac had been laid to rest, and she couldn’t afford a breakdown now. She dabbed at her cheeks during the appropriate moments and finally spotted Teddy just as the final "amen" was spoken. But before he could join her, another familiar face came into her line of vision.
"Mrs. Pierce? Have you got a moment?"
"I find this a most inappropriate time, Sergeant Denehy." Jessica kept her pace as she crossed the grassy cemetery toward the waiting caravan of limousines.
"Terrible about Mr. Wagner. It was drugs, you know. And what a strange coincidence."
"And what coincidence is that?" Jessica asked, still walking and hating herself for taking the bait.
"That he died, of course, just after offering to depose information that would be pivotal to our case."
"Our case?"
"Mr. Wagner was to be a prime witness in the investigation of your husband’s involvement with the murder of your… husband." Denehy cleared his throat awkwardly after realizing the redundancy of his statement. Jessica ignored it.
"Witness?" Jessica stopped and turned to face the man. Several yards to her right, cameras were snapping, clicking and buzzing. "To have a witness you must first have a crime. To have knowledge of a crime you must have evidence. Real, tangible evidence, of which you have none. Not that you are even legally involved in this investigation." With as much arrogant confidence as she could gather, Jessica resumed her march to the car. "Meanwhile, Mac’s real killer remains unfound while you insist upon hounding an innocent man. Good day, Detective."
Soon, Teddy was beside her. "Sorry I didn’t see you, darling. Want to get some coffee?"
Jessica spent the midday hours with Teddy, laughing and reminiscing.
"Seriously, Jess, if you want me to put you back out there, people have been begging for you. I’ve got a stack of scripts chest high for you to read. Oscar could still be yours, my love."
"Nope. I’m not ready. I’ll know when it’s time."
"Okay. You just say when it is."
She bid her agent goodbye in Beverly Hills, where she spent the next two hours at her favorite salon. A body wrap would take care of those pesky extra pounds. A deep pore facial, a new haircut with highlights and the sexiest little black dress she could find were also on the agenda.
"Pretty smart, if I say so myself." Jessica turned before the dressing room mirror, murmuring to herself. The "fashion consultant" stood by, a wistful smile on her face.
"It’s the right choice. Black is always the right choice. He will eat you alive in that."
"I’d settle for one of those long, slow, deep, soft kisses that last three days."
"Right now, I’d settle for a leer," the woman countered comically. "You’re a lucky girl, Mrs. Pierce."
"I know," Jessica said softly. I will be even luckier if I can get my husband back. She could only hope her simple plan would work.
She took the limo to the studio where Dane was supposed to be working. She wasn’t all that surprised when the receptionist haltingly advised her that Mr. Pierce was on dinner break.
"Where did he go?"
"I’m not sure…"
"Isn’t t
hat his Mercedes in the lot outside? Why, I’ll just bet he’s across the street at Francois’. Do you think?" she asked coyly, watching the agitated woman’s reaction to her suggestion.
"Oh, I doubt that. No, he probably got a ride with someone else to dinner."
"Well, it’s worth a shot, isn’t it? Thank you."
Was Dane’s secretary really biting her nails?
Jessica shook her head and got back inside the limousine. She wasn’t about to cross the busy boulevard in her stiletto heels.
The maitre ‘d looked pleased, then nervous, recognizing her immediately before agreeing to check for Dane’s presence in the dining room. Her assumptions had been correct; Dane was not alone.
"Right this way, Mrs. Mac--Pierce."
Jessica looked past the maitre ‘d’s shoulder and offered a false smile. "I can see myself to the table, thank you."
Squaring her shoulders, Jessica paced herself, moving directly but unhurriedly toward the corner booth occupied by her husband and the starlet creating the latest, and best, Hollywood buzz. Acquaintances nodded and smiled, some of them giving her a thinly disguised, pitying look.
She paused at the table’s edge, looking only at Dane, who turned his face to hers without the slightest trace of surprise.
"Good evening, Mrs. Pierce," he said.
"Hello, darling. I hope I’m not interrupting anything… important."
"Not at all. Lisa, my wife Jessica; Jess, this is Lisa Lee."
Jessica put out her hand. "Lisa. Lisa… Vulturi, isn’t it?"
"Falconi. And I was just leaving."
"Oh please. Don’t go on my account." Jessica’s words gave no hint of sincerity.
The actress stood. "Thanks, Dane. I’ll give you my answer tomorrow." The fairly stewing starlet sashayed from the room, and Jessica hesitated only a moment before slipping into the booth beside her husband. He spoke first.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Kids okay?"
"Of course they are. You knew I’d come for the funeral."
"The funeral of an heroine addict. Did you know his trial was coming up next week? He was out on bail for major drug trafficking. I find it a bit odd, I didn’t think you and Wagner were all that close. Or were you?"
"Closeness has nothing to do with it. It’s a matter of respect."
"And you didn’t respect Charlene?"
Jessica drew in her breath. That was unfair. "That was different." Before she could lose her resolve, Jessica wet her lips and laced her fingers. "I missed you."
If Dane flinched at all, Jessica did not detect it. His eyes focused across the room, and he picked up his drink for a sip. Boldly, she assessed him. So much like the day they’d met, it was unnerving. He was lean; preoccupied; self-important. But she’d learned, since then, that how he appeared could be entirely opposite… completely irrelevant to the way he felt.
His expression was shuttered.
"You hungry?" he asked at last, his tone clearly indicating that she should not be.
"We need to talk," Jessica answered, hating the sound of the words as they tumbled off her tongue.
From his wallet, Dane plucked a couple of bills and tossed them down, then stood from the booth. He offered his hand. Jessica got smoothly to her feet, ignoring the almost discreet glances from the infamous patrons around them. They are wondering if we’ll be tabloid fodder tomorrow.
Outside, he signaled the valet. "It’s across the street," he directed, gesturing toward the studio parking lot. He turned to Jessica. "You have a car?"
"No." Jessica fidgeted with her purse.
It was only moments before the red-jacketed attendant drove up in a brand new, black Mercedes-Benz.
Jessica sat stiffly in the passenger seat as Dane put the car through five gears and headed west on the freeway. It nearly made her ill, the discomfort she felt riding beside the uncommunicative man whom she’d thought she knew so well. Say something, dammit!
But Dane did not speak. Now, winding through Malibu Canyon, Jessica hoped the whiskey did not compromise his judgment. She also hoped he was not aware of just how tightly she was clutching the door handle.
This is crazy. Where is he taking me?
Before she could summon the courage to ask, Dane made a left turn onto a road marked "private drive."
"The gates are not in yet," he murmured, bringing the car to a stop before a beautiful contemporary house centered on a large estate-sized lot. Once again, he offered Jessica his hand as she struggled to exit the low vehicle in her high, backless pumps.
He preceded her up the few steps of the wide front porch and unlocked the front door, swinging it open and stepping aside to allow her entry.
Jessica walked inside, the clicking of her heels on the stone entryway echoing throughout the vacant house. She turned a full circle, taking in the details of the not quite finished home, then looked at Dane.
"This is it, isn’t it? Our house?"
"Yup."
"It’s… it’s beautiful. It’s almost done. Why didn’t you tell me?"
Dane offered a slight shrug and sauntered past her. She followed him into the kitchen.
"I love it," she said softly, running her hand along the smooth, cold, granite countertops, and the custom cherry wood cabinets. She opened the enormous sub-zero refrigerator and was surprised to see bottles of white wine and three or four cans of beer, along side a case of bottled water.
Dane reached in and snapped up one of the wine bottles. "Care for a glass?"
"Uh, sure."
From an otherwise empty cabinet, Dane took down two Styrofoam cups and sloshed some Chablis into both, then handed one to Jessica. "To… to what? You pick."
Jessica caught his gaze and did her best to hold it. "To us, of course."
"Right. To us." Quickly swallowing most of his wine while Jessica sipped quietly at hers, Dane dumped another ounce or two into his cup and walked from the room. Jessica followed as he went wordlessly from room to room, switching the lights on and then off for her appraisal. They ended back in the living room.
Jessica kicked off her shoes and went to stand before the floor to ceiling windows. "You can see the pier," she murmured, holding the cup close to her cheek.
"So what do we need to talk about?"
It was difficult keeping the hurt expression from her face. Jessica fought to stay in control, for she believed it to be the only way she could communicate effectively with Dane. Tears would only drive him away.
"Well," she began, trying to clear her voice without sounding insecure, "let’s start with this house. When will it be ready to move in?"
"When I tell them to finish it up."
"I guess the question is, then, do you want us to move in."
"I guess the question really is, do you want to move in?"
Jessica frowned and took a step toward her husband, who was now leaning against the massive fireplace mantel. "Why in the world wouldn’t we want to?"
Dane shrugged and polished off his wine. "You like the ranch. It’s better for the kids."
"Right now, it’s not. What’s good for the kids is being near their father." Not to mention what’s good for me.
Dane ignored her statement and headed back to the kitchen. Propelled by his lack of response, Jessica followed quickly behind him. "What is happening? What is really going on here? Are you tired of us already?"
Dane was reaching in to the refrigerator. "Tired of you? No." He again refilled the cup in his hand. "Tired, yes. Tired of trying. Tired of trying to be something I’m not."
"I don’t know what you mean. You… you’re talking in circles. If you’re mad about something, just say it. If you don’t find me… if I’m not what you want anymore, just tell me."
"You don’t have a clue, do you?"
"There you go again. Don’t be cryptic with me, Dane. At least do me the courtesy of being honest. You know, Mac may have had an unreasonable temper sometimes, but at least he always said what was on his mind. None of
this silent, distant crap you’re giving me!" Her words surprised both of them. Dane suddenly became a lit fuse.
"Ah. There we go! It’s just the three of us now. To us, you wanted to toast? Us? You, me and Mac. He’s never left your side, not once, has he? He dogs us like a bloodhound. He’s there, when we’re eating, walking, talking--" Dane’s anger seem to bubble quickly to the top and outward, and Jessica took an involuntary step back.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"Christ! He’s even in the sack with us, isn’t he? Isn’t he?"
"No! Of course not! He’s dead. He’s gone, and I--"
"And you miss him every damned day. Is he there, telling you what to say and do? How to be? Is he there to remind you of how a real hero acts?"
Dane slammed the refrigerator door and breezed past her on his way back to the living room, the neck of the half empty wine bottle in his fist. Jessica stared after him in outraged awe. Finally finding her feet, she stormed after him.
"So that’s what this is about. You think I’m comparing you to him. Well I guess your shoulders are just so damned broad I never noticed that big chip before." Jessica shook her head slowly. "And to think that I foolishly thought this was about you and me."
Dane sat down and leaned against the wall, staring at her, his expression sullen. "It’s true and you know it. It was asinine of me to ever think I could ever possibly be anything to you, after him. Mr. Stand Up Guy, Mr. Family Values, Pancakes-on-Sunday and Dinner-on-the-table-by-six Mac MacKendall."
"Please, don’t."
"It’s not your fault, Sweetie. I misled you. I misled myself. It was wrong for me to suggest that I could make you happy. And it was even more wrong for me to break my promise."
"What promise?" Jessica asked, now lowering herself to sit on the carpet in front of him. "Tell me, Dane. What promise?"
Dane’s sour expression slowly changed to one of mock enlightenment. "That’s why he won’t leave us alone. It’s so simple. It’s the fucking promise. How stupid… how blind could I be?"
"Dane, listen to me." Jessica took the cup from his hand and put it on the hearth. "We need to talk this out, because you are wrong. You’re wrong! You couldn’t be more wrong." She attempted to take his hands in hers, but he pulled his away.
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