“Grace, you don’t want that to be you, alone and hunched over somewhere.”
“She looks fabulous, though,” Grace mused, admiring how the black Givenchy one-piece framed the woman’s aged silhouette. But then she noticed how the draped neckline revealed a few rivers of blue spider veins. Old age scared Grace; she’d never seen anyone grow old gracefully, as the adage went. She’d watched the few women in her family become bitter and dreadfully unfashionable as they entered their senior years. Especially her mother, who’d allowed her constant bouts of anemia to suck the life out of her before she passed away.
“Fabulous and alone, nonetheless,” Candace noted.
Gulping the last bit of champagne that remained in her glass, Grace retorted, “Well, you don’t want to wind up like that, either, so let’s go get your man back.”
Chapter 25
“Are you sure this is going to work?” Candace asked, her fingers shaking as she ran them through her new tresses.
“Just as sure as I was that you’d look snatched in Valentino.” Grace snapped her fingers and then ran one of them across her teeth after getting a glimpse of herself in the elevator. “Listen, between that waistline, those hips, and those smoky eyes, Ethan is going to die. He’ll be asking for your hand in marriage by this evening.”
The elevator opened on the fifth floor, where Ethan’s office was located. The floor was unusually empty. The clacking of their heels was the only sound that filled the air.
“Grace, are you really sure this is going to work?”
“This is going to work. You and those heels, however, I’m not that sure about.” Grace looked over her shoulder at Candace, whose ankles were rolling like dice in a craps game as she attempted to match Grace’s effortless stride in her six-inch sling-back, peep-toe Giuseppes. “Just follow and let me lead. I’m going to go in first, and you wait outside the door until I tell you to come in.” That was about all the planning Grace had done. With her relationship with Ethan still in shambles, Grace hadn’t put much thought into what she’d say to him, either. Counting on charm and Ethan’s loneliness, she hoped that she wouldn’t have to say more than “I’m sorry” and “I’ve brought your beloved to you, so please accept her as a peace offering.” It was slightly selfish, but it was good selfish, since everyone would benefit.
Grace opened the doors of the vestibule that led directly to Ethan’s office, and focused her mind on the benefits of her master plan rather than on the screwed-up expression painted on Alice’s face. One good slug would’ve shut her up a long time ago, but out of respect for Ethan, Grace restrained herself by stuffing her fists in her pockets whenever possible. That didn’t stop her from throwing any verbal daggers, but this situation was too good for Grace to allow Alice’s foolishness and funky attitude to hinder her. Gaining Candace’s forgiveness would get Grace in good with God, which in turn would get her in good with Horace. Real good, she thought, imagining herself swaddled in his arms, feeling safe and protected by those sculpted biceps and triceps. And her attempt at matchmaker would get Ethan off her back. He’d let her stay at Mount Carmel, and maybe he’d let her off the hook about this Javier Roberts movie thing.
“You cannot walk in there unannounced.” Alice held up her hand. “He’s busy.”
“Doing what?” Grace asked, without breaking her stride or taking her eyes off her destination. “His premier client is out here. He can’t be that busy in there.”
Before Alice could skirt her desk, Grace opened Ethan’s door, shut it behind her, and leaned on it to suppress any attempt at entry Alice might make. Just as she’d thought, Ethan wasn’t busy doing a thing except preparing to take a swing at a golf ball. He was so deep in concentration, her presence went undetected. From what she could tell, Ethan wasn’t any good. His knees were bent too much, and his feet were too far apart—his stance was awkward and amateurish. Steadying the club in his hands, Ethan twisted to the side and set up a shot that would crack the window to the left of his desk at best but wouldn’t make it into the hole in the green felt square in the center of his office.
“What is this? The ninth hole at the Masters?” Her words cracked the air.
Ethan lowered his driver, pivoting slightly in the direction of the voice.
“Alice told me that you were busy. Is this what I have to pay a retainer fee for?” Grace said lightheartedly. It was as she had expected: if she wasn’t in some stuff, then Ethan had absolutely nothing to do.
“I am busy, for your information. I’m trying to figure out how to straighten things out with Javier and resuscitate two careers that are about to flatline. If you go down, I’m going down as well. Do you know what he said about you this morning on the Today Show? Never mind.” Ethan waved his hand in the air, dismissing his own remarks. “I’m just trying to clear my head.”
“I thought you were supposed to pray when you needed to do that,” Grace returned, stabbing Ethan with his own knife.
“Well, now that you’re here, I don’t need a miracle from God,” he said, raising the driver and pointing it at Grace. “I just need you to take your butt down to Javier’s office and tell him you’re ready to begin filming. That’s all that I need.” He lowered his club and prepared to swing again. The slim fit of his trousers was stifling his stance.
“Your knees are bent too low, and your feet are too far apart.”
Ethan made the adjustments and took a swing, and the ball rolled into the fake hole.
“Thank you.” He teed up again. “When should I tell Javier you’re coming?” He stared up at her innocently as he set the ball on the tee.
“I didn’t come here to discuss that. I already told you I’m not interested, and I don’t care what that nut is going around saying about me. I don’t want to do the film, and you’re not going to bully me into doing the film.”
After standing up straight, Ethan stared into her eyes. His brown eyes were full of the power to cut right through Grace’s anger and touch her heart. Grace was sure he knew that, which was why he’d decided to begin a staring contest before responding to her statement. Ethan was using his stare like a mallet to tenderize the meat of her heart before squeezing what he wanted out of it.
“Well, what did you come here for?” He put the driver aside and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his forest-green slacks, awaiting her response.
“I didn’t come to argue with you. I didn’t even come to discuss business with you. I come bearing gifts. I got something for you. I got you something that will put you and me in a better head space, and then we can move forward.”
“Move forward?” he huffed. “Grace King, you have a lot of nerve. You don’t want to discuss business. I’m your lawyer and your manager. What else do we have to discuss?”
“At one point we were friends,” she wanted to say, but as his countenance had become marred from the pain of what he’d lost after kissing her, she knew it was best not to remind him of what once was.
“Fine. We can talk a little business, but first may I present my gift to you?” Grace said, trying to speed things up.
Grace felt that the longer they spent rehashing their disagreements, the more opportunity Candace had to rethink why she was sitting out there. With each passing minute her newly cultivated confidence might be slowly ebbing away—especially since she was seated out there with Alice, who was probably whispering poison about Grace into Candace’s ear. By now she’d probably already slipped her heels out of the backs of the pumps and begun massaging them, and she’d probably entered into a healthy gabfest with Alice that included commentary on Grace’s disposition and insatiable appetite for men. Alice had once been quoted in the newspaper as saying that Nelly Furtado’s song “Maneater” was inspired by Grace. Grace had to get Candace into this office—and into Ethan’s arms—now.
“Business first,” Ethan said, picking up his driver. “I want you at Javier’s studio tomorrow morning, before the crack of dawn. I want you there apologizing profusely and claiming that h
e is nothing short of the next Spielberg. A visionary. Please tell him that he is a visionary and that his debut film is sure to be legendary.” Ethan hit the ball. “Today I want you to set up your next appointment for anger management.”
Grace sucked her teeth.
Ethan looked back at her with his eyebrows huddled together. “Court’s orders, or else you can march yourself right on down to jail. Dr. Sternberg is pretty flexible. We may be able to get him to come and make another house call. And then I need you to focus on completing these community service hours.”
Grace drew in both of her cheeks, displeased with Ethan’s commands. She tried to conjure up a proposition that would get the movie off the table and her back at Mount Carmel. Candace might not be a big enough bargaining chip. Anger management was doable. Grace had actually experienced some benefit from attending the session the first time, and she wasn’t about to give up Horace. He was harder to get into than the White House, but worth the trip.
What about me?
An electrifying voice was echoing inside of her, yet it was outside of her. Grace looked at Ethan, who had redirected his focus to his miniature green and was taking serious swipes at the ball. Maybe it was Candace who’d asked the question.
Cracking the door slightly, Grace stuck her head through the opening to check on Candace. The scene was completely as she had imagined. Candace’s feet were out of those heels, and she was using the carpeting to massage her soles, and Alice was assaulting her eardrums with useless cackling about Grace. She tucked her head back into the confines of Ethan’s office and rested against the door. Now more than ever, she wanted to get back to Mount Carmel, lie down on the altar, and perform an exorcism on herself. She was going crazy.
Grace, what about me?
“What about you?” she retorted aloud, hoping that Ethan would engage in a conversation with her and that the voice truly wasn’t in her head.
“What?” he asked, squinting at her like she was peering through fog.
Scratching her head, Grace tried to dig her way out of this. “I can’t do the movie. I’ll go back to anger management, and I’ll go back to Mount Carmel, tonight even.”
“You’re doing the movie, and you’re not going back to Mount Carmel to turn Pastor David into the next preacher scandal. Is that clear?” Ethan commanded, walking over to Grace.
“I’m not doing that movie. I cannot work with Javier. He . . . he . . .” Her chest began to heave as her confession climbed its way up from the dregs of her belly and from the recesses of her mind, and she met head-on the anguish that she’d tried to camouflage with alcohol and drugs.
“He’s an idiot. He’s a buffoon. A self-absorbed moron whose work is highly overrated,” Ethan said. “However, he has the Midas touch, and every model he works with turns to gold.” He lovingly caressed her cheek. “Grace, we’re running out of options, and you’ve already signed on. I’ll be there every step of the way.”
Looking up at the ceiling, avoiding Ethan’s powerful gaze, Grace tried to accept his decision without breaking down. “Can I still go to Mount Carmel?”
“No, that’s my church, and I won’t let you ruin that for me. You already slept with the pastor.”
“Has it occurred to you that he slept with me too? He’s not perfect. He’s just the servant of a perfect God.”
“Yes, it has,” he said, dropping his voice and turning his back to Grace. “That’s why I can’t let you go back there. You make him weak, and I can’t be the intermediary in this relationship.”
“It’s not a relationship. We haven’t seen each other in a long time, and our emotions got the best of us both. I won’t start anything with him. I promise, Ethan. Let me give you my gift as evidence of my commitment to you.”
“No movie, no gift,” he said.
“Ethan . . . I’ll do it.”
He spun around quickly and looked at her.
“Call him and tell him I’ll be there with bells on . . .” she said reluctantly. “However”—she stepped in front of him, blocking his path to the telephone—“I’m going back to Mount Carmel, and you have to accept my gift first.”
Chapter 26
Ethan planted his driver firmly on the floor, rested his palms on top of it, and assessed the sharp look in Grace’s eyes, trying to determine her level of commitment.
“If I accept this gift, you can’t back out on me,” he said.
She shook her head sheepishly, like a schoolgirl in front of the principal, and turned to open the door.
Ethan grabbed her by the wrist and tested her eyes again. This wasn’t the first time Ethan had to convince Grace to do something that she didn’t want to do. She had been antsy when it came to doing Sports Illustrated in a bikini the first time. Grace had agreed, and then she’d frozen up on the set. It wasn’t until Ethan had shown up that they’d actually been able to unglue her from her seat in hair and makeup. He groaned inside. Did this mean that he would have to show up on the set of Javier’s film as well and walk her through her lines?
Still wary of Grace’s intentions, he released her wrist from his vise grip. The look in her eyes served as reassurance that Grace was committed to this film. Whatever gift awaited him on the other side of the door wasn’t just another trinket to bribe him to keep his mouth shut and turn a blind eye to her irresponsibility. But there was still a hint of apprehension in her eyes. He recalled the multitude of times that anxiety had coursed through his vein like a virus and had him bent over the toilet in a stall of the men’s bathroom before any negotiations or hearings. Each and every time the Lord had guided him through those situations, holding his hand and whispering the right words to say. God has never forsaken me. Why am I forsaking her? Please help me deal with her, Father, he prayed silently.
Now that Ethan had released her, Grace opened the door partway and stuck her head and arm out. Ethan couldn’t make out who she was motioning to or what she was doing. While she got things together on her end, Ethan figured this was the perfect time for him to let Javier know that they could finally begin filming.
Javier had created a short and tight film schedule for Pressure. He claimed he wanted to shoot and edit the picture in under ten months and release it by next fall. Seemed like the perfect plan, and it would leave them with more than enough time for Grace’s image to be rehabilitated and for Grace to earn a little Oscar buzz. The role was dark. Grace knew dark. The role was dramatic, and as Ethan simultaneously dialed the number to Javier’s studio and watched Grace prep his gift by motioning and jerking her arms up and down like she was a conductor for a philharmonic, he thought that she was definitely dramatic.
Javier’s assistant picked up the phone, and Ethan took a seat behind his desk. He exchanged pleasantries with her and explained that his call was of the utmost importance, only to fall silent as Candace entered his office. Ethan fumbled as he searched for the cradle for the telephone receiver, covering his mouth with his free hand to hide the fact that all the muscles in his jaw had collapsed at the sight of her.
The sunlight streaming through the windows bounced off the apples of Candace’s cheeks, and with each blink, her eyes seemed to whisper his name from across the room. The hair that he’d become so used to seeing pulled tightly back in a bun now framed her face like loose feathers. He didn’t know whether to stand up and greet her or let her keep walking closer to him. Her beauty touched him and filled his belly from across the room. Ethan would have continued watching her float before him if it hadn’t been for Grace, who was waving at him, signaling that he should stand up and greet Candace.
He stood and tugged at his collar, trying to tease out the words lodged in his throat. His tongue clung to the roof of his mouth, scraping against the ridges. Candace’s presence had awakened both the inward man of his heart and the desires of his flesh.
Clearing her throat and bobbing her head to the side, Grace unlocked the handcuffs that Candace’s presence had place on his mind.
“Candace . . .”
He reached for her hand. She allowed him to grasp only her pinkie. “You look different.”
“Do you like it?” she asked, biting the corner of her lip. Candace raised her head fully and met Ethan’s eyes completely.
Oh God, I love it. This is what Adam must have felt when he saw Eve and said you are a “wo-man,” Ethan thought. He realized that restraint was necessary in terms of both words and deeds. He wanted to pull her in by her waist with both hands and demolish the space between them with his lips. All of him ached for her. He tucked her hair behind her ears and cradled her face in his palms.
“Ethan, we can’t—”
“Shhh . . .” he said, swallowing every word of resistance with his own lips.
Candace tried to speak again, but with each syllable she attempted to spit out, Ethan pressed his lips on hers, until she finally gave up her protest. Once their bodies had melded together, Ethan wrapped one arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist. Flicking his fingers back and forth, he dismissed Grace. Later on he would have to compliment her for her bribery tactics.
After a few moments, Candace broke out of his grasp. Breathless, flustered, and radiant.
“Ethan, we can’t just go from not speaking to kissing without so much as having a conversation,” she asserted, holding her fingertips to her lips.
“I never stopped speaking to you, Candace.” Ethan placed his now free hands in his pockets. “I’ve called you every day for the past week.”
“So a phone call was supposed to make up for the fact that I found you with your tongue down Grace King’s throat?” She folded her hands across her chest. “How am I supposed to trust you around her?”
Seasoned with Grace Page 15