Secrets

by Steel, Danielle

Our Jacqueline de Ribes are in ' Sabina smiled, easily able to repulse the woman, who would get nowhere with her.

  I just bought three at Saks last week. Three Jacqueline de Ribes would have represented half her income for the previous year, but the salesgirl looked undaunted by the blow.

  We have a few exclusive ones, just for us. In fact, Fred picked them out of her line in Paris himself. The illustrious Fred Hayman, impresario of Rodeo Drive's finest emporium, but even the mention of his sacred name didn't impress her. Sabina glanced at her watch. One ten.

  I've got to go. I'll come back after lunch. Or next year. Or maybe next week, if he has a big part for me in his next movie. Her eyes had a look one couldn't argue with. They said, give me the goddam hat or I'll walk out of here. But she wanted the hat for her lunch with Mel, needed it. And the girl knew when not to push.

  Of course, Miss Quarles. Shall I put some things aside for you? Christ, they never give up, she thought to herself as the girl finally disappeared with the hat to a hidden cash register. It was one fifteen when she returned, and Sabina carefully put it on, set it at the right angle, and shook back her hair. The effect was spectacular, and more than one head turned as she left the store and hurried from Rodeo to Beverly and then one more block to North Canon. It was exactly one twenty-one when she reached the Bistro Gardens, and swept in, looking powerful and beautiful, and her eyes stayed just above the fascinated stares as people turned to look at her. It was a habit people had, to make sure they weren't missing anyone ' Gregory Peck ' Elizabeth Taylor ' Meryl Streep ' look, Jane, over there ' the whispers were constant. But this time, people only stared at her, and then looked away again, as the headwaiter walked swiftly toward her, threading his way through the tables outside. The riot of colored flowers added to the elegance of the decor, as the brightly striped umbrellas protected each lunch table from the midday sun.

  Madame? It was a question and a statement all at once as he smiled at her.

  I'm meeting Melvin Wechsler for lunch, she explained, her eyes combing the headwaiter's face, as though testing the effect of the hat. She knew it was working well. It had added just the aura of mystery and panache she had wanted. She looked spectacular. And in the distance, from a quiet table, Melvin Wechsler was watching her. He watched the long legs striding gracefully, the firm breasts in the bright blue shirt, and the eyes beneath the hat. Christ, she had it. He knew she had. He'd remembered it. She was exactly what he wanted. Exactly. And he smiled to himself as suddenly she stood there, looking down at him, as sexy as she had always been, maybe even better-looking than she'd been before, or was he getting soft? Were old starlets finally getting to him? But this was no has-been beauty queen. Sabina Quarles was a woman to be reckoned with, a 9.9 on the Richter scale, he could feel his own guts give a tug as he looked at her and he was pleased. He stood up and held out a hand. His arm was long and powerful, his handshake firm, his eyes an icy blue, and his hair a carefully kempt white mane. Mel Wechsler was fifty-four, and he had the body of a much younger man, like many men in Hollywood. The lucky ones. He played tennis every day, or at least as often as he could, and like Sabina, he had a massage several times a week. But there had been no surgery. He just looked damn good for his age, and aside from the white hair, he could easily have shaved ten years off his age, if he wanted, which he didn't.

  Hello, Sabina, how've you been?

  Sorry I'm late. She smiled, and her voice seemed deeper, sexier than he remembered. And he got a terrific view down her blouse as she sat down. The traffic in this town is getting ridiculous. Particularly if you stop to buy a hat on the way, she smiled to herself. Mel was watching her, suddenly remembering the feline quality about Sabina, like a long, lean beautiful cat stretching in the sun. I hope you haven't been waiting for too long.

  His blue eyes reached deep into hers. He was always watching, weighing, as though he had something very important in mind. He smiled a smile that had melted women's hearts for years, and if not their hearts, then their resistance. It was a half smile, a smile that touched his lips, even when his eyes were serious, as they often were, as they were now. Some things in life are worth waiting for.

  She laughed. She remembered now how much she always liked to talk to him and wondered why he hadn't called her in so long. Their paths crossed from time to time, but not often enough. Thank you, Mel. He offered her a drink and she opted for a Bloody Mary after a moment's thought, and then she noticed he was drinking Perrier. He wasn't in the usual Hollywood mold. There was a great deal of substance to the man, and his success was built on hard work and an absolute genius for their business. He had a magical touch about selecting people for his television shows and films. He rarely went wrong. It was one of the many things she admired about him. Melvin Wechsler was a pro. And he was also a damn attractive man. She knew he had had a long-standing affair with one of the big female stars of Hollywood a few years before. They had been inseparable, and he had put her in three of his films, but something had gone wrong along the line and they didn't see each other anymore. Like everyone else in town, Sabina had always wondered why they'd broken up, but he never mentioned her to anyone anymore, and Sabina liked that about him too. He was proud. He had guts. And style. He wasn't one to lick his wounds publicly. Even the major tragedy in his life was something he never discussed. Particularly that. Sabina only knew about it from what she had read, and what she had heard from friends. He had been married to Elizabeth Floyd years before, she had been one of the biggest stars of Hollywood in her day, some thirty years before. They'd met when he first came to town and was still crawling his way up at MGM. He had been their golden-haired boy then, or a few years after that anyway. And she had been it, and she'd fallen for Mel. They'd gotten married a few years after that, and she had retired not long afterwards, ostensibly just temporarily for the birth of their first child. But their first child had turned out to be twins, identical baby girls, who looked just like Liz, and she had stayed home to take care of them.

  They'd had a little boy two years afterwards, and once in a while you'd see them all somewhere. He kept them out of the press, even though it wasn't easy to do with Liz. She was so beautiful that photographers had trailed her for years. Sabina remembered her from when she'd first come to Hollywood. She'd already retired by then, but Christ had she been beautiful, a natural redhead with big blue eyes and creamy skin, a dazzling smile, and a figure that made men weep. She'd been involved in women's rights way back then, and she was involved in all sorts of philanthropies. They eventually had a house in Bel Air, and a ranch near Santa Barbara, He had been the perfect family man then, and it wasn't difficult to believe even now, no matter how many young actresses he'd taken out in the meantime. There was something fatherly about the man, and everyone said that working for him was like becoming part of a family. He cared about the people on his shows. Mel Wechsler took care of everyone, and he'd taken care of them. He'd been fabulous, and he'd adored Liz and his kids. They went to Europe together every year, and in 1969 he had taken them all to Israel. It had been an unforgettable trip, and he had been furious when he'd had to go back to L.A., for a network conference they'd called and insisted he attend. He had left Liz and the children in Tel Aviv, and promised to be back in four days. He was just going to fly home for the meeting and come back, but once there, everything got more complicated than he expected. There was a major problem with his biggest show, and he hadn't been as secure then. He had finally given up hope of getting back to Israel, and had urged Liz to come home, but she wanted to stop in Paris for a few days, as they had planned for the end of their trip. She didn't want to disappoint the kids. They boarded an El Al flight, and at the same time they did, Mel had been meeting with the network again, and he had had a strange feeling in his gut. He had looked at his watch, wondering if it was too late to call. He wanted her to take Air France, or another airline, and then he chided himself for foolishly worrying about them ' until he got the call ' the State Department called, before he heard it on th
e news. Seven Arab terrorists had boarded the plane and blown it to kingdom come, taking with them all of the passengers and crew. Two hundred and nine people dead for their cause ' and Liz and Barbie and Deborah and Jason ' he had been like a zombie for weeks, unable to believe that it had actually happened to him ' that if he hadn't left them ' hadn't come back ' if he had only called ' The if onlys of that day haunted him for years. It was a nightmare from which he thought he would never awaken, and all he wanted was to have died with them too. He had nightmares about the flight, and he hadn't flown any where for almost ten years. But there was no recapturing the past. There was no turning back. Barbie and Deb had been twelve, Jason ten. It was the kind of thing you read in the news. Only it had happened to him. His whole family wiped out by a terrorist bomb, and in many ways his life had never been the same again. He had thrown himself into his work, and the actors who worked for him were like children to him. But they weren't his own ' and there was never another Liz. Never. There was never anyone like her again, and he didn't want there to be. He lived with their memories, even now. There were other women of course, although it had taken him a long time to come to that. But he had finally, and there had been only one serious affair. But he had never married again, and knew he never would. He had no reason to. He had had it all, and had lost everything. It made him philosophical about life, and wise about the trivia of Hollywood. He couldn't take it to heart, yet he took it seriously. It was a business he cared about, a game he played well. But there was a door to his heart that would never open again. It had slammed shut when that call from Paris came. But he wasn't blind to the beauty that surrounded him day after day, and he enjoyed the company of the women he took out. But there was always that moment of truth, when he went home at night, or when they left him the next day ' that moment when he was alone the next day ' that moment when he was alone with the memories. It was why he worked so hard. It was an easy escape, and one that worked well for him. But a piece of his heart had died with his wife and children.

  What have you been up to these days? He smiled slowly at Sabina over their drinks. Sabina remembered the tragedy in his life. But it had been a long time ago, and he didn't wear it on his sleeve. He never talked about his wife, or his children, except to very, very close friends. Everyone had been devastated by their deaths. There had been a memorial service at the Stephen Weise Temple on Mulholland that had been attended by literally thousands. There had been no funeral, there had been no bodies for the airline to return. There had been nothing. Only air. And heartbreak. And broken memories. And regrets. I hear you did a very nice film last year. He had heard more than that. That it had done dismally at the box office, despite decent reviews. But he knew what Sabina was capable of. He had seen her in enough films. He knew exactly who and what she was. And he wanted her. Far more than she knew. She needn't even have bought the hat, but he enjoyed the effect as he sat watching her with a sparkle in his eye. It was work that brought him to life now, work that he loved, and for which he lived. He had lived with the tragedy of his loss for long enough, he had put it aside, he had made peace with it. It no longer ruled his life. But work did, and he liked it like that, and he was thinking of that now. Manhattan, the property was called, and Sabina was perfect for it.

  Sabina laughed at the kindness of his remark. Only Mel would have put it that way. He was always a gentleman. He could afford to be. He was at the top. The pinnacle. He owned the world in which he moved, and the network kissed his feet for the sure successes he produced. He made a fortune for everyone, himself, the networks, the sponsors, the actors involved most of the time. And he was generous in the way he dealt with all of them. He didn't need to screw anyone. It made him desirable in every way, and Sabina wasn't only thinking of his career as she looked at him over her glass with a smile that showed the generosity of her lips.

  The film was a bomb. A nice bomb, but a bomb nevertheless.

  You got good reviews. He was biding his time.

  That's about it. Good reviews don't pay the rent. Or her other expenses.

  Sometimes they do.

  Tell that to the boys who make the films. They want big box office, no matter what it takes. And screw the reviews. They both knew it was true, to an extent.

  That's the nice thing about TV. There was no change of expression in his face although he knew the minefield he trod as one of Sabina's eyebrows shot up. The ratings mean a lot more than the reviews do in movies. In fact, they meant everything.

  She looked annoyed. The ratings don't reflect anything real and you know it as well as I do, Mel. They reflect a lot of little black boxes attached to sets in the homes of mindless boobs. And all of you drool or tremble for fear of what the ratings will do. Give me a theatrical film any day.

  Still feel the same way about TV? He looked mild and relaxed as he ordered another Perrier.

  It's a world of crap. Beneath the hat, her eyes blazed. She had always hated TV. And she had told him as much every time they met.

  He smiled. But profitable crap.

  Maybe. But I thank God I've never prostituted myself for that. She looked pleased with herself, and he felt mildly dismayed. But she hadn't read the script of Manhattan yet. He knew if he could get her to, it would change everything.

  There are worse things, Sabina. And you know as well as I do that a lot of the movies being made aren't worth the film they're printed on. And they're no more satisfying than doing a cameo appearance on a sitcom.

  Sabina looked outraged. That's ridiculous, Mel. You can't compare movies and TV.

  I can, and probably better than anyone, since I'm involved in both. They're both satisfying and they're very different. But there's merit in both. There's nothing better than a really fine, long-running TV series. It gives the actors more satisfaction than Gable probably got doing Gone With the Wind. They both smiled at the comparison. Now there's a movie for you, Sabina. She laughed at the thought. She took herself seriously most of the time, but Mel made it easier to laugh at herself. He had a knack for loosening people up, making them comfortable, making them laugh ' making them important ' and successful. And he had thought seriously about Sabina before their lunch. She had been around Hollywood for years, twenty years at least, maybe even twenty-five. And having invested that many years in the business, she deserved more recognition than she was getting. And that was something Mel Wechsler, or at least Manhattan, could give her.

  You ask any actor in the business, Sabina, who's done a long-run show on TV and ask them how they felt about it. You get a chance week after week to come across with some kind of substance, to hone your character, your performance. Hell, half the actors involved in those shows end up either writing or directing them they get so involved in the guts of the show.

  They probably do it out of self-preservation. She eyed him from under the brim of her hat and he laughed.

  I don't suppose anyone's ever accused you of being stubborn, have they?

  Only my agent.

  No ex-husbands? He had forgotten that about her, but as she shook her head, he remembered. She was a solitary soul, but so were a number of women of her ilk and era in the business. They were too involved in themselves and their work and their appearance to have much time to waste on a husband. And if they did, it was seldom for more than a season. It was something that had bothered him about her when they met, the fact that she'd never been married. He always seemed to have a preference for women who had had long-term involvements, and they usually seemed to have children. It filled a need in him that he was no longer able to fill himself. He didn't want another family, he couldn't have lived through another loss like the first one, but he loved being around other people's kids.

  I've never found a man I was tempted to stay with. She was honest with him. Sabina made no bones about who she was, where she was going, or what she wanted. And the truth was that she was content with her life-style.

  That doesn't speak too well for the men you've known. Their eyes met and held, and they
ordered lunch when the waiter returned, as the conversation turned to easier subjects. He had no plans for a summer holiday. He had long since sold the ranch near Santa Barbara, and when he felt a need for a few days' rest, he rented a house in Malibu on the beach and he spent his time reading scripts and relaxing. But he had no time for that now. He had been in meetings with the network for weeks, and now he had some serious work to do. He was casting Manhattan, it was going to be the most important show of its kind, a series like no other before it. And what about you, Sabina, no trips in store?

  She shook her head and looked vague as she toyed absently with her salad, and then looked up at him from beneath the hat again. For an instant, she looked vulnerable in a way he had never seen her look before. It was a look that made him want to shout, Freeze frame, to stop the action and keep her looking that way forever. But it was gone the moment she smiled and shrugged one of her exquisite shoulders. I have to go to San Francisco for a few days. Other than that, I'll be here all summer. He also knew she wasn't working, and hadn't for all intents and purposes since the film the year before. He wondered if she ever got desperate about the fact that she hadn't made it bigger than she had. Or maybe was content as was. That was difficult to believe about a woman like Sabina. And he was hoping that she felt at least a little urgency now about her career.

  He waited until their coffee came, and then gently broached the subject. I was hoping you'd read a script for me.

  Her eyes lit up slowly, with a warm glow. She had hoped it would be something like that. Either that or that he wanted to take her out again. She would have been open to that possibility as well. In fact, she would have liked it, and was't quite sure which she would have preferred, or if she could still have both, Mel, and a part in his next movie. And his movies were rare now, which made it even more flattering that he had thought of her. Either way, she would have been happy, although she needed the work, and wondered if he knew it. Hollywood was a small town, and what people didn't know, they suspected, or imagined or whispered. It was a town filled with gossip and rumors and badly kept secrets. I'd like that very much. I take it you're putting together a new movie.