All My Tomorrows

by Colette L. Saucier

  Alice dropped her head onto her desk and covered her head with her arms, one of which crushed her lunch. “Oh, God. No. No no no no no no no…” She banged her head on the desk.

  “They saw you go inside with him.”

  “No no no no no…”

  “And then neither of you went back to the party.” Peter didn’t go back? “You slept with him. Didn’t you?”

  Her head shot up. “No! Absolutely not!”

  “Then why is everyone saying –”

  “Shit. Everyone? OK, listen. I got drunk and, yes, I kissed him. But that was it! Not even second base.” That’s technically true.

  “Did you kiss him like you kissed me?”

  Her cheeks heated from the memory of kissing Peter, and an unwelcome tremor rolled through her. “No, it was nothing like when you and I kissed.”

  “So where did you go?”

  She stood up, and her chair rolled back and hit the wall with a thud. “What is this, the Inquisition? I was drunk, Peter and I kissed, we had this huge fight, then Peacock drove me home.”

  “What did you fight about?”

  “You, actually. He warned me not to get involved with you.”

  Rich dropped from the desk, his face blooming red. “What did he tell you?”

  “Nothing, really. Just that I needed to be careful. I don’t know what his deal is with you, but I think he just said that to try to get me into bed. Winnie wasn’t there, so he probably wanted a one-night stand and assumed a lowly writer would jump at the chance. When he realized there was no way in hell I would ever sleep with him, he probably grabbed the first convenient female that walked by.” For some reason, that thought tugged at her heart.

  He released the breath he had been holding and smiled. “So you really are not interested in him?”

  “I can safely say that Peter Walsingham is the last man in the world I would ever sleep with. He cheated on his wife with Winnie, he would have cheated on Winnie with me, and God knows how many bimbettes he’s had in between. He is the last person I would ever listen to for dating advice.”

  “Relieved to hear it. Most women would love to scratch ‘movie star’ off their bucket list.”

  She corrected his agreement error in her head. “I’m not one of them.”

  “Well, your lunch has had it. Now will you come with me?”

  “All of this has really made me lose my appetite. Now not only do I have to write Eileen out, I have to contend with the rumor mill. I need to get this Peter story nipped in the bud.”

  “Then how ‘bout dinner?”

  She stepped around and took both of his hands. “I’ve been thinking – and this has nothing to do with Peter or the party or anything like that – but I think we really need to slow things down.”

  “How slow?” He furrowed his brow.

  “Don’t do that. You’ll get wrinkles.” He obeyed immediately. “I mean slow – really slow. So slow that we are moving backwards.”

  “I don’t get it! If this has nothing to do with the other night –”

  “The last relationship I had was with an actor on the show, and it did not work out well. It really affected All My Tomorrows, and I can’t let that happen again.”

  He squeezed her hands. “How do you know this can’t work out with us? I’d like to try.”

  “I…I would too, but I have to put everything into the show for the rest of the month to have a cliffhanger for the Olympics.”

  He nodded, although his expression did not agree. “Then we’ll try it during the Olympics.”

  “No, I can’t then.” She glanced down at their hands and released them. “I…I’m going on location with Eileen. She asked me to come along.”

  “For how long?”

  “I’m not sure. A few weeks.”

  “But I want to spend time with you, get to know you better.” He reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and left his hand against her face.

  “If you still feel this way in September, we’ll see where this goes.”

  He kissed her tenderly on the lips before walking out.

  What is the matter with me? He was good-looking, sexy, funny, obviously attracted to her, maybe a good kisser – she wasn’t sure. Why have I damned myself to Louisiana in August to avoid him?

  ☼

  “Alice, we have a problem.”

  “My five favorite words.” She grabbed her iPad and followed the stage manager to the park set where Giselle sat on a bench with Rich and the cameramen and other crew standing around. “So what is it?”

  “It’s Giselle.”

  As soon as she reached Giselle, she understood the problem. Giselle’s face was red, her nose swollen, and her eyes puffy. She looked like someone who had been crying for hours. Alice sat down beside her and placed a hand on her arm.

  “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve been crying for hours.”

  Giselle sniffed, and more tears began to flow. “It’s Jack. I haven’t seen him or spoken to him since the morning after the cast party. When he left my place, he said he would call me once he got Peter settled in Toronto, but I never did hear from him. When I tried his cell, it would go straight to voicemail, so I thought maybe he didn’t have service out there. He didn’t reply to my texts either. This morning I called his office to leave a message with his assistant, and she told me he’s been back in L.A. since last Friday!”

  Alice rubbed her hand up and down Giselle’s arm she hoped in a reassuring way, but she couldn’t keep thoughts of the storyline out of her head.

  “Giselle, he’s obviously a dick. He doesn’t deserve you. You should just delete his number from your cell.”

  “I already did.”

  “I hate to say it, but he might have just wanted to get you into bed. He’s had a crush on Sienna for years.”

  “I know, but it just didn’t feel that way.”

  We need a scene in the can. “If I can put together an emotional scene for you, do you think you can use all of this as Sienna?” Giselle sniffed and nodded, and Alice stood up and glanced at her tablet then around the soundstage.

  “Who is still here?”

  “Only Rich and Eileen from the cast,” the stage manager said.

  “Any writers? Go find them and tell Eileen to come here. Where’s Peacock?”

  “Gone. It was supposed to be a simple three-camera scene, already blocked.”

  Alice exchanged her iPad for a script, which she pulled apart then rearranged its pages. “Okay, Rich, you can go. We’ll have to film your romantic scene with Sienna tomorrow. So move the scene with Raife and his priest later, after the scene on the waterfront.”

  Eileen and the writers appeared. “What’s up?”

  “Thank God, you’re still in make-up. You haven’t discussed the whole Tristan/brother bit with Sienna, have you?”

  “No. Tristan told me, but I haven’t had a scene with Sienna since.”

  “Okay, good. She’s about to show up at your doorstep in hysterics. Everyone, move over to Clarissa’s living room. Eileen, go put on scrubs or something. Writers, come with me.”

  Romance and soap operas do not mix.

  ☼

  “Cut. Print. That’s a rap!” Buzz.

  Thank God – it’s finally over. The last week on set had been miserable. Eileen had gone to New Orleans the week before, and Alice missed her already. Giselle moped around the set every day, which did not help the on-air chemistry between Sienna and Raife. Although she did miss the attention and the fun of flirting, Alice figured cooling it with Rich made the disappearance of Jack at least a little easier on Giselle. In fact, off-screen Rich had offered a shoulder for Giselle to cry on much like Raife did for Sienna.

  Hmmm. Giselle and Rich walked off the set together, and she definitely smiled up at him. Perhaps Rich has decided not to wait for me after all. Oh, well. She could hardly blame him. A beautiful actress and a handsome actor naturally gravitate toward one another – especially when they were playing lovers on
screen.

  Mr. Peacock broke her from her reverie. “Alice, we need to talk.”

  Ah, my second favorite five words. “What is it?”

  He handed her a thick stack of legal-sized paper. Perusing the top sheet, only the names of the network executives and Peter Walsingham made any sense.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  “Peter’s attorneys have been at it with the execs. Peter is suing us.”

  “For what?”

  “So he doesn’t have to come back to All My Tomorrows.”

  All the blood rushed out of her face, causing a chill and a wave of nausea. “I can’t believe it.” She handed him back the papers.

  “Believe it. At the very least, he will not be back in September. The judge has granted his motion not to return until his court date. The network attorneys said then he could request a continuance, and this could drag out for months and he still wouldn’t come back.”

  Her shock gave way to anger. Her heart raced and her eyes burned. “That son of a bitch.”

  “I’m sorry, Alice. I must admit, you were right to cut his romance with Sienna.”

  “That son of a bitch!”

  “I know you and your team have mapped out a story arc for him.”

  “I’ll kill him. I swear to God, if I ever lay eyes on Peter Walsingham again, I’m going to kill him! And here he offers to host this congratulatory party for saving the show when he is putting the final nail in its coffin!”

  “Well, we don’t know when this was decided. He might have thought –”

  “Oh, no. I have every reason to believe that, even that night, he had no intention of seeing any of us again.”

  She marched into her office and slammed the door but with such force that it bounced back open, giving her the pleasure of slamming it again. And then she roared at the top of her lungs.

  Alice had calmed down, for the most part, as she walked through the soundstage for the last time for a month. Rich’s presence near the exit startled her.

  “What are you still doing here?” she asked.

  “Waiting for you.”

  “I guess you’ve heard.”

  “About Peter? Well, I can’t say I’m sorry – or even surprised. He thinks he is too good for this.”

  “This could be the end. It’s a good thing we have the Olympics. Our ratings can’t decline if we’re not on the air.”

  He smiled then and stepped forward. He lifted his hand to her face and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Alice, I know we said we would wait until September, but have dinner with me tonight, just once before you leave.”

  His words and his thumb rubbing her cheek confused her. “I thought you and Giselle were getting close.”

  “No, of course not. We’re just friends. She’s been so upset over this break-up, I’ve been like a brother to her.”

  “But –”

  “I’ve been keeping my distance because you asked me to, but I’ve hated it. C’mon. Dinner.”

  Tempting. Very tempting. Now she couldn’t even remember why she had decided to go to New Orleans in the first place. She closed her eyes and leaned against his hand. Oh, this could be very nice.

  “Urrg,” she groaned and opened her eyes. “I wish I could. Believe me, I really do. Unfortunately, I have a six a.m. flight tomorrow, which means I have to be at the airport by four, and I haven’t even finished packing.”

  He nodded and moved his hand to the back of her head. “Then a kiss goodbye?”

  She dropped her purse and book and wrapped her arms around his neck and stepped into the kiss, willingly opening her mouth to him, welcoming his tongue and pressing her lips tight against his. And it was…nice.

  CHAPTER 8

  The Edge of Darkness

  Chapter 17

  I was extremely hesitant to read the reviews the morning after opening night. Actually, because of the cast party the night before, which lasted until dawn, I didn’t see the morning paper until two in the afternoon. This was my first review, and, not being one to take criticism well, I was reluctant to read it. I kept telling myself, even the best get bad reviews in the preface of their careers.

  The article read, Last night I was treated – and I use the term loosely – to what might be considered a mixture of vaudeville and war protests. I put the paper down. I picked it up. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but satisfaction revived him. This version of Gypsy, as seen through the eyes of producer/director Melvin Patrick, makes one think Nixon wasn’t that bad after all…The choreography was so bad, even the strippers were off beat…The lines were delivered with such monotone, it made me wonder if Rose were Camille. I put the paper down and drown this cat in coffee.

  The doorbell rang. Frank Wilson, a farmboy in the cast who had been asking me out since the night of auditions, though I persistently declined, rushed in. “Hey! Congratulations!”

  “Have you no respect for the dead? How dare you be so cheerful!”

  “Oh, you’re just hung-over. Wait ‘til you’ve read the reviews.”

  “I have. That’s why I’m in mourning.”

  “Mourning? You should be celebrating! This could be the best thing ever to happen in your career.”

  “Oh, yeah, bad reviews are like having one foot in the door.”

  “I thought you said you read it.” He took the paper and opened it to the column.

  “I did. We’re worse than Watergate.”

  “You obviously didn’t finish the article.” He read, “‘The lines were delivered with such monotone, it made me wonder if Rose were Camille.’”

  “I’ve already heard it. Why rub salt into open wounds?”

  “‘But,’” he continued, “‘in spite of Rose’s death, Gypsy was full of life and spirit.’”

  I stood up. “What?”

  “‘The young actress Alex Hollingsworth made the entire play worthwhile just to see this new talent. And talented she is. Never before have I seen an actress who made me believe she was actually portraying herself. I hope we will see a lot more of Alex in the future, with or without clothes.’” I just stared in disbelief with my mouth hanging open.

  Despite my good reviews, the play closed after the second performance drew an exceptionally small audience. So on I pursued my dream of acting, having little experience and one good review. Although I auditioned for Broadway shows, I would only be offered a part in the chorus, and I preferred an actual role on a smaller stage.

  I auditioned for Hair off Broadway and got the part of Sheila – taking off even more clothes – receiving reviews similar to those of Gypsy. This time, however, the play finished its full run.

  Next I was cast as Janet in The Rocky Horror Show. I had not had that much fun with a cast since I was in high school with Godspell. On closing night, as I sang “Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch Me,” I spotted the duke in the audience smiling at me. I winked at him without missing a note, then ripped off my bra.

  After the curtain call, I went to my dressing room and found it filled with red roses, all from Robert, who was sitting in my room.

  “I told you I would be back for you.”

  “Has it been a year already?” I tried to play Miss Cool – I knew exactly how long it had been – and sat at my dressing table brushing my hair. Then I saw in the mirror I still only had on a corset, and I was completely exposed on top. I went behind the screen and took off the corset and put on a robe.

  He walked up to me. “It has been the longest year of my life.” He took me in his arms and held me close. “And I still love you.”

  I tried to resist at first, but then I gave in to my feelings and put my arms around him, too. I wasn’t in love with him, but I loved the fact that he was so in love with me.

  “Please come back with me.”

  I stepped back out of the embrace. “I can’t. I’m going to be in Jesus Christ Superstar. Rehearsals begin next week. I have the role of Mary Magdalene.”

  “You cannot mean to send me away again.”

/>   I looked into his eyes and saw such pain, all the pain I had put there, and remembered seeing that look in Tony’s eyes. “No. Never. After this play, I will go back with you. It will only be three short months. I promise.”

  He ran his hand down my face and neck to the opening of my robe and brought his mouth close to mine. “How long must I wait until I can have you?”

  I could feel the blood rushing to my face, and I looked away.

  He pulled my robe together and pulled me to him. “Are you still my sweet, innocent Virginia girl?” I nodded. I could understand why he might not believe it, considering how he had seen me on stage. “Then I will wait for you.” He kissed me. As aggressive as he acted, I expected him to kiss me hard, but he didn’t. Instead the kiss was full of love and longing.

  As promised, after the run of the play, I went with Robert to England. I hadn’t told Mother of my plans because I was afraid she would try to keep me from going. Perhaps down deep, I still had some hope she would hear from Tony, and if so, I didn’t want him thinking I was leaving him to be with another man. If he had come back, I would have broken my promise to Robert in a heartbeat and run back into Tony’s arms.

  The day we got to London, I called Mother to let her know where I was.

  “My children certainly are full of surprises.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Tony has crawled out of the woodwork. I just found out he is running for state senate.”

  I fainted. It was that simple. I was standing at the payphone at Heathrow Airport, and when she made this announcement, I passed out in Robert’s arms.

  The doctor at the hospital said it was jetlag, but I knew the truth, though I couldn’t tell anyone. After all this time waiting for any word from him, two years after he disappeared, I leave the country to start a new chapter in my life, and he resurfaces running for public office.

  ☼

  “How are you?” Eileen squealed like a ninth-grader when she opened her hotel door and found Alice on the other side.

  “I’m HOT! How do you think I am? I went from the air conditioned airport to the air conditioned cab to the air conditioned hotel, and I am still drenched. I feel like I am swimming here – and look at my hair!”