“Oh, Hope! Are you okay?”
The concern in his voice made her feel guilty. I have nothing to be guilty about, she reassured herself. “Yes. I’m fine. It was really no big deal. Much ado about nothing.”
“Are you sure? Have you seen a doctor?”
“Yes. There was one in the next building. Really, Phillip, I’m fine. This phone call is costing you an arm and a leg. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Well, it’s costing Jack Delaney, but I do want to tell you how much I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.”
“Where are you going that you need bags?”
“Well, it’s kind of a long story, but I’m going to L.A. To be in a music video.”
“You’re what?” He sounded distracted.
“Going to L.A. to be in a music video.”
“Oh, geez! Sorry, Liz. Man-n-n! Hope, I just spilled coffee all over our notes. I’ll call you back tomorrow. Email me the number when you get there. Shit, that’s hot!”
“Okay, babe.”
His voice sounded far away. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
* * *
“Wow, Chase. This is fantastic!”
The limo pulled into the driveway of his house in the hills of L.A. While a big house by most people’s standards, for a celebrity of his caliber, it was extremely modest, definitely dwarfed by the homes surrounding it. The outside was a neat mixture of stone, glass, and light wood. Decorative beams formed a crisscross archway above the front door, giving it a sort of clean lodgy feel.
They had decided Hope and Hal would be staying in guest rooms as it would be more practical while recording the video.
“Thanks.”
“Okay,” Hal said, all business. “You have exactly thirty minutes to get settled in and change before the crew gets here. I’ll bring you your outfit momentarily.”
“Hal doesn’t believe in wasting time.” Chase added with a lopsided grin.
When they entered the house, she gazed around in admiration. The house was expansive, but not overwhelmingly so. “This is how I would build a house if I had sold…how many records do you have to sell to go platinum?”
“A lot.” Hal sighed, immediately ensconcing himself at a glass table with his laptop.
“All work and no play makes Hal a dull boy,” Chase whispered in her ear.
“I heard that,” Hal said, not looking up from his work.
“And he’s got owl ears, too. I’ll show you to your room.”
She followed him down the hallway, still taking in every detail of the décor. “Do you mind if I take some pictures?”
He grinned at her. “Would it matter to you if I said no?”
“Not really,” she returned with a smile.
“Then of course you have my permission.”
“Thank you.”
He opened a door on the left.
“Ooh!” she squealed, rushing in ahead of him. “Oh, Chase! I’m running out of adjectives.”
“Well, that’s not good, considering your profession.”
The room was decorated with the fresh whites and blues of the sea, and had some sand colors mixed in as well. The white, four-poster bed’s headboard and footboard were slatted like shutters, and the matching end tables had bead-board sides and shelves containing white wicker baskets with white and blue striped canvas liners. The comforter was a textured white and the sheets were ocean blue. Light, knotty floorboards completed the look. The far side of the room was all windows, with French doors in the middle that opened onto a faded gray deck. Chase hefted her suitcase onto a stand by the closet, which featured slatted French doors, similar to the bed’s design.
Hope ran to the windows, whose airy white curtains were pulled back, to check out the view. “Wow!” she exclaimed in one long breath. A lengthy, winding staircase led from the back of the house, traversing over rocky terrain, until it reached the pristine beach below.
“Can I get you something to drink? Wine, flavored water, soda…”
“Sure,” she responded absentmindedly.
He grinned. “Which one?”
“What? Oh. You choose.”
He returned a few minutes later with two glasses of wine. As he entered the open door, he heard a loud squeal of delight.
“You found the tub.”
“Chase, this is fabulous! I want to hop in it right now.”
The tub, which sat up on a little platform, was huge and had jets situated throughout. The bathroom was quite roomy, half the size of her apartment, Hope guessed. Wainscoting covered the bottom of the walls, up to a thin chair rail. Light shone through a series of skylights overhead, and again, the far wall was made up of windows, so you could gaze out over the ocean while you bathed, if you were so inclined.
“Man! I feel a little foolish now making such a big deal over my little tub. My apartment must have felt like a cage to you.”
“No, Hope, not at all. I loved it. And your tub was a thing of beauty. These kinds of monstrosities are a dime a dozen,” he said, casually kicking the light-colored woodwork surrounding it. He paused, adding softly, “It’s nice having you here.”
Her cheeks flushed and she turned to gaze out of the window. After a moment of awkward silence, she commented, “I saw a series of pictures in the other room. Were they taken by a local artist?” She wandered back into the bedroom, taking a drink of her wine and studying the photos again.
“Umm…no. I took them.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You took these?” They were all beach scenes. A sunset, a pair of footprints in the sand at the water’s edge where he had captured the bubbles left by the waves, a view from atop the cliff of several brightly colored umbrellas gracing the beach, a sandpiper, his distinctive footprints following behind him in the shiny, smooth, wet sand; all were spectacular. “You’re really talented.”
Now it was his turn to blush. “That means a lot coming from you. But I just mostly fool around. These were just luck.”
“Luck is what photography is all about…when you happen to catch the right light for your subject that, five minutes later, would be gone…” she trailed off, still captivated by the photos.
Chase watched her face as she considered his pictures. It was at times like this she was almost magical. Her ability to completely give herself to the moment was a wonder to him. Her sense of rapture was something he wanted to hold on to, something he wanted to re-create over and over again. Had they missed capturing something special all those years ago? Did they have a chance of grabbing hold of it now? Suddenly, Chase knew he no longer cared about why she had left him. Being with her had made him realize what had happened between them in the past no longer mattered to him. He knew he wanted her back. The question remained, was it too late?
* * *
Hope was amazed by the number of people needed just to take shots of the two of them playing on the beach. The makeup artist and hairdresser were there, as well as the producer and several cameramen, and various people whose function she hadn’t quite figured out yet. A dressing area had been set up under a tent in the sand, which boasted a table with a mirror. The makeup artist and hair designer fussed over her, finally putting a big white flower in her hair and calling it quits.
She had been relieved when the swimsuit turned out to be more substantial than others she had seen. It was red with white flowers and came with a matching wrap, which she loved. She was glad they told her she could keep her suit and wrap. Chase had on a loose white shirt, which buttoned up the front, and beige trunks that looked more like cargo shorts than a suit.
He stood on a small crest above the waterline, digging with his feet in the sand for the tiny shells that had been abandoned there, his hands stuck in pockets. She joined him, waiting for instructions from those in charge. A single seagull flew past them with a loud screech, drawing their attention seaward. The air smelled salty and fresh, not heavy with the wet fishy smell the ocean sometimes had.
&nbs
p; “It’s beautiful here,” she murmured quietly. “I can see why you chose this spot to live. It’s quite a bit different than dirty, old Chicago.” The breeze lifted her hair, which today had tumbling curls, as she spoke. It ruffled his shirt, tugging on the fabric playfully as if it wanted to undress him.
“Yeah, but they both have their charms. Chicago has the aquarium, theater, museums…” he trailed off, turning his head to peer at her. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she replied softly, wondering why he kept saying things that unnerved her so. She could not return his gaze, but instead stood turning over a shell with her foot to capture its brilliant colors in the sunlight, wishing idly she had brought her camera with her. They became aware the crew had been filming them.
“Go ahead down and frolic in the waves,” the producer called out.
They strolled toward the water together, Chase smiling and commenting to no one in particular, “Frolic?”
“I haven’t had a good frolic in a long time.”
He chuckled. “Me neither.”
After a few seconds, she glanced over her shoulder to make sure they were well out of earshot of the producer. “What exactly, do you think, frolicking entails?” She giggled.
Laughing, he responded, “God only knows!”
They entered the water and she scooted a little bit away from him.
“Do you suppose,” she began with a grin, “I would be frolicking if I did this?” She kicked water on him, and then stood brazenly laughing. He scowled and she started backing up.
“Hope Creswell, you are…TOAST!” With the last word, he took off after her. She tried to escape, but shorter legs were a handicap in the higher water and he caught her by the waist. She laughed and fought him, but he picked her up. As the tide receded, he swung her in a circle. He set her down but started dragging her deeper into the water.
“Oh no, Chase.” She sensed his purpose. “Andre will kill you. He spent fifteen minutes curling my hair.”
But heedless of her warnings, he lifted her. “I’ll take my chances,” he retorted, smiling widely. “I think I can take him.”
As he taunted her, she continued to squeal in protest and tried to kick her way free. He pitched her into the heart of a wave. Her ears, so full of his laugher and her shouts seconds before, filled with the peculiar silence of water, which muffled all noise as she sank down. She let the water slow her, then, planted her feet, springing from the ocean like a discharged missile. Bobbing in the water she pushed her wet hair back and laughed. Not to be outdone, he let out a loud cry and dove into a wave, coming out the other side and rising from the depths a few feet away.
“Now, that’s some damn good frolicking, by God!” he roared, spurting out salt water like a fountain. He turned and spotted the crew. Shrugging his shoulders with a wide grin he waved. After a moment, a few hands raised and tentatively waved back, as if they were unsure of why they were even doing it.
Hope had turned to watch their response, and he suddenly grabbed her legs, lifting up as if to throw her again. Her hands pushed against his wet shoulders as she struggled to get free. His mood changed. As he gazed up, the sunlight dancing off his wet hair, she was reminded of another night, another body of water, when they had been together, just as they were now, about to kiss. Her hair was dripping onto him and somehow, miraculously, the flower had managed to stay in place. He gradually loosened his grip, but kept her close as she slid down in the circle of his arms.
Hope was mesmerized by the dangerously compelling desire she saw in his eyes. As he slowly lowered her, her laughter became stuck in her throat; her mouth, which had been open wide in a smile, wavered uncertainly. As if beyond her control, her fingers glided along the muscles of his shoulders and chest, her eyes following their journey. Her heart suddenly remembered the way to him and hammered in her chest. She knew now, with conviction, whatever he asked of her she was powerless to deny him, and at that moment, she truly had no wish to deny him anything. Her hands on his shoulders went to the sides of his face. A sweet pain seemed to fill her every pore. She lowered her lips gradually onto his waiting ones. The first kiss was hesitant, the next more sure, and the next simply a yearning for more.
A movement drew their attention. A cameraman had waded into the water and was zooming in on their impassioned moment. Chase released her and she dropped back down into the water, her feet touching the sandy bottom, but he continued to gaze deeply into her eyes, hoping to find something there. But, he saw only fear and confusion.
“That was hot, man!” the cameraman called, blind to the feelings stirred up by the kiss. Hope turned her face to the sea and Chase, realizing that she was embarrassed, played along with the idea it was all for the camera.
“Yeah, how’s that for frolicking?”
The cameraman laughed and turned around, not noticing Chase had reached back to gently take her hand as they waded ashore.
“That was fantastic!” the director called excitedly as they came out of the water.
Hope dropped his hand and rubbed her arms, looking uncomfortable.
“Should we do the beach-walking scene next?” the director was asking Hal.
Hal nodded. He was studying him and Hope intently as the producer took over.
“I just want to film you guys strolling along the beach hand in hand. Not as steamy as the last scene.”
Hope didn’t raise her head, but nodded slightly and the director raced off to holler at someone about a camera angle. They stood for a minute or two in silence, then Chase held his hand out to her. She hesitated, then slipped her hand into his and turned to walk up the beach with him. They padded through the surf, beginning with their hands stretched out, fingers just touching, walking some distance from each other. The crew hung back, using zoom lenses to get the footage they needed, perhaps knowing it was difficult to be intimate with someone when you have a movie camera in your face.
She looked straight ahead, and he could guess she was formulating something to say to him in her head. Unable to wait for her to speak, he broke the silence. “Hope, I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.”
“No!” she almost shouted. “Let’s not talk about it.”
Why? Because that might make it real? But he closed his mouth out of deference to her feelings, and they continued meandering through the sand without speaking.
“It’s only natural to get caught up in the moment,” she continued quietly a few minutes later, seeming more in control of her emotions now. “But when this video is over, I’ll return to Chicago and write a nice little piece for the Sunday paper, and you’ll go on being a rock legend, or whatever. Nothing’s changed.” She murmured the last even more quietly, almost as if to herself.
He felt as if he’d been shot through the heart. His mind replayed the scene in the waves, the way her face had been full of longing and pain, the way she had responded to his kiss. He knew she cared about him, so why would she deny her feelings? Was it this boyfriend, this Phillip guy? Or was it something else?
The pair alternately looked at their feet, watching the sand ooze through their toes, and then at the sun setting in front of them. From time to time, they glanced furtively at each other, but kept their thoughts to themselves. Eventually, the footprints they left in the sand that had started off far apart, drew closer.
The director called for them to change direction and head back toward Chase’s house so he could get a shot of them as the sun poured over their shoulders. The wind picked up, she shivered and he put his arm around her. For a moment she remained stiff, but eventually she leant into him, slipping her hand around his waist. Their faces seemed reflective, serious…but this would make a good contrast with the sillier scene they had filmed earlier the director said, so he was content.
CHAPTER TEN
When they got back to the house, Chase and Hope changed out of their wet clothes. When Chase came out to the living/dining room area, he found Hope across the table from Hal, looking as if they w
ere part of a dueling laptops show. She had pulled on a plain pink t-shirt over a white tank with black and white yoga pants; perched on her head was a black ball cap, which she had somehow stuffed the majority of her hair into. It was about the most understated outfit she could have put on, but he still thought she had somehow managed to make it look sexy. He longed to knock the cap off her head and let all that gorgeous hair free, to touch the delicious curve of her full breasts, which the t-shirt couldn’t hide, and to slide his hands up the smooth hips the yoga pants glided over. At the same time, the outfit reminded him of the girl he used to know, the girl he had fallen in love with. In that light, she simply looked adorable.
Lifting her head and catching him observing her, she explained, “I thought I should do a little of what I actually get paid for on a regular basis.”
“I suppose I should, too,” he responded clumsily. He left but came back in a few minutes with his own laptop and guitar. “This won’t bother you, will it?”
“Are you kidding?” She grinned. “Besides, it might be good for the article to actually study the way you create your music.” She got up and came over behind him to gaze at his computer screen. “You can actually write music on a computer?”
The sound of her voice so close was exhilarating. He had to refocus to remember what she had asked him. “Yes, in just a second, the program will open. I’ve been working on a song called, ‘Lost in a Memory.’”
The notes and lyrics splashed onto the screen. “That’s cool!”
“Yeah. It is pretty cool. But, every once in a while, I have to get out a pencil and paper. There’s something about the smell of eraser that stimulates the creative process. Besides, it’s much more satisfying for me to viciously rub out a mistake than simply hit a delete button.”
Hal snorted and shook his head, but said nothing. He often stated that he could not function without his laptop and couldn’t understand Chase’s reliance on writing things out by hand.
“Well, I don’t want to disturb your creative process by snooping over your shoulder—” he was just about to comment that he didn’t mind, when she added, “—and if I don’t start showing some sign I’m not just out here lying on the beach, I might just get my walking papers from my boss.” She returned to her place, curling her feet under her cross-legged while she worked. “Oh, Chase, would it be okay if I received a phone call on your landline? Most people will call my cell, but, well, Phillip is in Afghanistan, and I don’t think there are enough cell towers between here and there. He asked me to email him the number.”
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