by Josie Brown
SAM: Yeah. That’s…that’s nice…I unbutton your shirt.
O: Good…
SAM: And I slide my hands up, gently onto your abdomen…then, slowly, up to your breasts.
O: My nipples are so…so hard. Because there’s a chill in the air…and because your fingers are playing with them…
SAM: I’ve lifted up your camisole. I have my lips on them now…
O: They grow as you put them in your mouth.
SAM: Umm, yeah…I’ve noticed. Not that they weren’t healthy to begin with.
O: And pert. Don’t forget pert.
SAM: How could I? I can’t take my eyes off of them. At the same time, my hands are busy elsewhere: I’m now unzipping your pants.
O: I’m doing the same…to you…Wow! I’m impressed.
SAM: You haven’t been the first woman to say that to me.
O: (Laughs heartily) Your modesty is so becoming…Do you like what I’m doing now?
SAM: Wait…. I’m…I’m sorry. I wanted some realism. I’ve actually moved into my living room now. (Sound of a dog barking.)
O: (Seriously) Down, boy! Oh, not you, Sam.
SAM: Hey! How did you know he’s a…never mind.
O: Oh! Uh…just a lucky guess…You were saying?
SAM: I was saying that my lips are all over you…on your breasts, on your neck…umm…I love your scent…musky…
O: What? What did you say?
SAM: The way you smell. It’s…glorious…Now, I take that locket around your neck in my teeth, and I bite it off—
O: My—my locket?
SAM: Yes. It’s a little heart. Tiny and perfect. Just like you…And I whisper in your ear, “Tell me. Tell me what you want me to do, and I will do it. Anything. Anything you want.” And you laugh that husky laugh of yours and whisper back to me, and I nod because it’s so perfect for right here, right now. I pick you up and you wrap your legs around my waist so that we can do what you want: make love…standing up…to the sound of the waves…. (He pauses, waiting for her to answer him) O…O? Are you there?
O: (Heartbroken) Umm…yeah, Sam, I’m here…Look…I…I’ve got to go now.
SAM: You’re…you’re hanging up? Well, now, that’s gotta be a first in your business.
O: You’re…you’re probably right…Sam, did you mean…did you mean all of that?
SAM: Hell yeah I did! Every word. If—if only we could.
O: We?
SAM: Uh, sorry, O. You know what I meant. I meant—I meant if I could…with Nina.
O: Did you say—Nina?
SAM: Yeah. That’s her name. I’ve never mentioned it to you, have I? (Laughs) In fact, I’ve never told anyone about her but you…until last week. Believe it or not, I actually told her, finally. But she doesn’t believe me.
O: (Stunned) Oh…yes she does. She knows…(Click!)
SAM: O, do you really think so? O? Are you there? (Pause) (Click!)
So, Sam loved her.
He loved her. Not O.
So much for Hugo’s male intuition.
It was sweet. Sam was sweet. And kind. And gentle.
Except when he thought about being with her. At which point, he became a passionate lover who wanted to satisfy her every desire.
No one had ever wanted to do that for her before.
That wasn’t to say that Nathan wasn’t a satisfying lover. He was—as long as he was the one who had been satisfied first. Only then would he consider Nina’s needs, too.
But since he’d met Kat, it had been a while since he’d considered Nina. At all.
She stayed up all night, thinking about Sam: his face, his laugh, his smell, and most of all, his large but gentle hands.
She imagined his hands on her, exploring her body. She let her own hands wander over it, pretending they were Sam’s…
Until Nathan came in, sometime around dawn. Then she pretended to be asleep.
Even as Nathan snuggled up behind her in bed and gently clasped her locket with his hand—an indication that he would like to be forgiven, and, of course, make love—she acted as if she were dead to the world.
Because for the first time since she had known him, what Nathan wanted didn’t matter to her.
What she wanted did matter, though. This she realized as she drifted off to sleep.
She wanted someone to love her unconditionally, to desire her.
Just like Sam.
If only…if only Nathan were Sam.
11
The Breakup
The Desperate Housewife who enjoyed Sam’s expert counsel wasn’t too happy about the parts being offered her during her summer hiatus from the show. It was up to Sam to explain to her that she wasn’t competing against Renée or Charlize or Nicole, and certainly not against Scarlett or Natalie or Kirsten, let alone Jennifer, Jennifer, or Jennifer. And while she didn’t want to hear it, the truth was this: any film director who might be interested in her delectable services would also be considering Kim or Ashley or Diane. In fact, there were several roles that might fit that bill, if she (or, perhaps, her bank account) was open to such consideration—
Her teary lament was interrupted by Riley’s subtle but still very emphatic murmur, in Sam’s earpiece, that Serenity Lancaster was on the line.
To verify a scoop.
About Kat and Nat.
Sam muttered back “Code Blue,” an indication to Riley that he was to buzz him on the intercom so that Sam could pretend that he was, at that very moment, being called by Steven, who had expressed an interest in maybe, just maybe, considering that very same Desperate Housewife for a featured role in the blockbuster he was filming this summer…
Perhaps she could let Sam take the call? He’d touch base with her later—certainly before he went into his next meeting—to bring her up to speed on the who/what/when…
Why, of course she would! He could reach her on her cell, which she was sure Riley had at his fingertips…
In fact, the part was real. But because she was adamantly opposed to any nude scenes (alas, the role called for one) and she’d be playing a mom—to Kirsten, no less—Sam already knew her answer would be an adamant no anyway, so he had absolutely no qualms in telling that fib. Of course, if she had a sudden change of heart, he’d call in a favor and ask the director to let her read for the part anyway. No harm, no foul.
After she sashayed out of his office, he took a deep breath and braced himself for Serenity’s interrogation.
“So Sam,” heaved Serenity with no further ado, “I’m leading tomorrow’s column with a tip I’ve received about Nathan Harte’s imminent divorce filing. Would you like to confirm this?”
“Hell no, I wouldn’t!” Sam fairly shouted. “Who fed you that load of crap anyway?”
“Why, Katerina, of course,” she hissed triumphantly. “With or without you, doll, it’s going to run. I was just giving you a chance to soften the blow.”
“Thanks. For nothing, Serenity.”
The way he slammed down the phone gave her all the confirmation she needed.
He made it over to Flagrant Films just as Hugo was wrapping the final scene for the day—or, better yet, Hugo was trying to wrap things up, but since he was in a heated debate with his leading lady over whether she should be reclining or sitting up while giving a pivotal speech in the plot, it looked like the crew was in for another stomach-gnawing hour of Kat-induced fun and games.
Sam motioned Nathan to follow him into the actor’s trailer.
“Okay, tell me what I just heard wasn’t for real.”
“Huh? What did you hear?” Nathan stared at him blankly.
Was he really Bambi in the headlights? If so, then maybe Sam had nothing to worry about and Serenity was just shooting spitballs. Then again, maybe Kat was blowing smoke up Serenity’s ass, just for the fun of it.
At this point, he’d take either option.
“Word is out that you’re filing for divorce. Tomorrow.”
The way Nathan hung his head, he knew that he’d
have to settle for the truth:
Serenity wasn’t lying.
“What? How—but it’s…no one was supposed to know!” Nathan ran his hands through his hair and fell back down on the trailer’s couch. “How the hell did that happen? I—I’d hoped I’d be able to do it quietly. You know, just slip in, file, and slip out, before the press got ahold of it.”
Well, then, you dumb ass, if that’s the case, why did you tell that bitch girlfriend of yours when you were going to do it? Sam wanted to shout at him. Instead, he just shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Too bad. It’s out, so now you’ve got to deal with it.” He paused, then came out with what he really wanted to know: “Tell me, how did Nina take it?”
“Well, she doesn’t exactly know it’s coming down.” Nathan suddenly got busy looking at his script.
“What exactly does that mean?”
“It means that…well, it means that Kat and I made the decision only a couple of days ago, but I haven’t gotten around to mentioning it to Nina yet. Of course, Kat’s pissed at me about that.”
He sighed and looked out the window. Kat and Hugo were still slugging it out. He didn’t know what was worse: being out there with them, or explaining to Sam why he’d procrastinated on the inevitable. “Hey, listen, it’s not all my fault, either. Nina’s shut me out since…well, really, since Oscar night.”
“That was, what, almost two weeks ago?” Sam found that hard to believe. He knew how Nina hung on Nathan’s every word…
But then again, maybe not, as of recently anyway. In fact, the two times he’d seen her since then—both times at Tommaso’s, on what he jokingly referred to as “their regular date night,” she hadn’t mentioned Nathan at all. Not once. Now that he thought about it, whenever he’d brought up Nathan’s name (which he didn’t do very often), she winced involuntarily…and changed the subject to something more pleasant. As if cremini mushrooms fell into that category.
It surprised him that he hadn’t picked up on it before now. Maybe if he’d taken her out again after she’d gotten off work, she would have opened up about it. But the thought of asking her out, particularly after that very arousing conversation with O, was guaranteed to put him on one very slippery slope: If she agreed to go, he’d be tempted to ask her over to his place…and relive the fantasy he’d played out on the phone.
Or, worse yet, he might be told by her that, sorry, she just wasn’t interested.
Because she loved Nathan instead.
Nathan’s troubled sigh brought him back to Earth. “Hey, and don’t think I didn’t try to set things right by her. Believe me, man, I tried, really I did! I even arranged for us to get away for a weekend…but she blew me off. She’s using the excuse that she’s working around the clock.”
“Nights too?”
“Yeah sure, nights. Lately she’s…really driven.” Nathan stared out the trailer window again, to gauge how much time he’d have before he’d be called back. Kat was still ranting at Hugo. He was safe for, oh, at least ten more minutes. “I know she’s doing it to get back at me. I can tell by the way she is on the phone.”
“On the phone? What do you mean? I thought you said she’s not talking to you.”
“She’s not! But that doesn’t stop her from talking to—” Catching himself, Nathan paused, then started again. “To other people. It’s just the tone she uses nowadays is sort of harsh. Cruel. You know, real cold.”
Sam hadn’t heard that in Nina’s voice at all. Nathan’s just giving himself another excuse to dump her, he reasoned. Well then, if that was the way it was going to be, then better sooner than later. It might be better for damage control anyway.
Damage to Nina’s heart.
“And we haven’t—well, what I mean is that she won’t let me touch her. Not since that night.”
Sam almost smiled. Good, he thought, because you don’t deserve to touch her after what you’ve done to her.
“So, lately, I’ve been…I’ve been sleeping out. I guess the writing is on the wall, and we both know it. There really isn’t anything else that we can do at this point, even if either of us wanted to.”
So Nina wanted to end it, too? Why?
And why now?
“Well, still you’ve got to talk to her now! Serenity is breaking the news of your divorce filing in tomorrow’s column, for God’s sake. Nina shouldn’t have to read about it that way. Now, that would be cruel.”
As Sam started out the trailer door, Nathan muttered, “Sam—look, Sam, I need you to…to do me a big favor. Could you tell her for me? Please?”
That stopped Sam cold. “What, are you crazy or something?”
“No, I’m not crazy—I just—I just don’t want to be the bad guy. Man, I just can’t stand the thought of having to look into those big brown eyes of hers when she hears it!”
No shit, thought Sam.
“Please, Sam, I’m begging you. If she hears it from you—well, she respects the hell out of you, so maybe she won’t be so upset.” Nathan slumped down deep on the couch.
“Nathan, no matter how it’s put to her, she’s not going to take it well. You realize that much, right?”
“Yeah, I know.” His eyes were damp, but they pleaded his case for him. “Still, like you say, it’s better she hears it from…from someone who cares about her, before she sees it in tomorrow’s newspaper, right?”
“Yeah, okay. Whatever. I better go to her now.”
It really was okay, because there was nowhere he’d rather be than beside Nina when she got the news.
Well, breaking it to her certainly meant he’d gotten his wish, as twisted as that was.
When Sam walked into Tommaso’s and up to Nina’s counter, her heart did a flip-flop. She could feel her face get warm, a common occurrence now whenever he appeared, at least since O and he had discussed his love for Nina.
Since then, she couldn’t help but be a bit infatuated with him, too. Unfortunately, she also felt guilty about hearing his heartfelt confession, particularly since he didn’t know to whom he had been confessing. When the time was right, how could she explain it to him without him hating her?
She didn’t want to think about that right now. And, from the look on his face, he wasn’t in the mood for her confession, either, even if she had been ready to make it.
“Can you take a break?” he asked nonchalantly.
Intrigued, excited, scared—and knowing how busy his day was, flattered that he’d even taken the time to come and find her this way—Nina motioned to Tori to take over, then followed Sam outside to Tommaso’s “Garden of Delight,” a lattice alcove that was originally designed as an alfresco gathering spot for the store’s patrons willing to choke down the carbon monoxide fumes emanating from West Beverly Boulevard while chewing through their organic salads and gourmet sandwiches. But because of its unfortunate location, it now served primarily as the employees’ ad hoc smoking lounge.
Sam leaned up against the store’s grimy stucco wall—a brave act, considering the five-figure price tag of his custom-made Brioni suit, which comfortably hugged his jogger-trim physique. Before he spoke, he ran his hands through his dark, tousled hair. It was the only subtle indication he gave that his news wouldn’t be something she’d welcome.
“So, when was the last time you heard from Nathan?”
“Well, if you must know, yesterday morning.” Nina’s response had an edge to it, but she didn’t elaborate. “Why do you ask?”
By his grimace, she could tell that Sam was annoyed with that bit of information. “Look, I wanted you to hear it from me first: I know there’s been a lot of talk about Nathan and Katerina McPherson—”
“Listen, Sam, if you’re here to convince me not to worry about it, then really, don’t waste your breath. I’m fully aware of what’s going down.”
“You are?” The crease in Sam’s brow eased up a bit. “Then you’ve already heard?”
“Yeah…At least, I’ve heard what he wants
me to believe…and you, too, I guess.” She looked him squarely in the eye. “Sorry, Sam, but I know you’ve tried to help him cover up their affair. I don’t know, maybe you thought you were doing me a favor or something, but I know better. Hell, I’ve seen the way she plays him.” She stared out at the cars whizzing by on the other side of the lattice wall. “Nathan knows, too, by now, that I’m in on the lie. I know he does because he’s been trying to make it up to me. He’s asked that we get away together, just the two of us, for a romantic weekend.” A tear trickled down her cheek and made it to her chin before she wiped it away. “I said no, but…well, I think I owe it to our marriage to reconsider.” She smiled at him, glassy-eyed but still beautiful, as far as he was concerned. “I do owe him that much, right? In spite of everything that’s happened?”
“No, you don’t, Nina,” Sam said bluntly. “You don’t owe him a damn thing—”
“Look, Sam, I don’t expect you to understand, not after how you feel about—”
“That’s what I came to tell you, Nina!” He grabbed her arm to make his point. “You don’t owe him anything because—well, it’s going to be announced tomorrow that Nathan is asking for a—a divorce.”
A divorce.
Nathan wanted to divorce her…
…So that he can be with Kat?
Nina couldn’t believe her ears. Angrily, she turned toward Sam. “But—but how could that be? You’re making that up, right? Because you—”
“Because I what?” He, too, was angry at Nathan for breaking her heart. Not that she would know that. Although, the way she was looking at him—hurt, confused, angry—at him, no less—indicated to him that she wanted to shoot the messenger.
“Because…I don’t know why you’d do it, why you’d want to hurt me this way—” Her voice trailed off.
Because I know you love me, she thought, although she couldn’t say that. Not now, anyway.