by J. P. Bowie
c h a p t e r 2
s
“Let’s see now…” Peter perused the list of guests he had invited to Jeff ’s party.
“Mom and Fred, Rod and ‘A’, Gloria and Johnny, Emily and Jerry, Justin and Anthony, Rob and Maggie, Dr. Ed and Kay, Nick and Eric—and you and David.”
He looked at his friend Andrew Connor, who had come over early to help him set up. Andrew and his partner, David, had just returned from a vacation in Hawaii and Andrew, wearing a white tank top and shorts, was sporting a healthy tan.
“Quite a crowd,” he said. “You’ll need at least five tables.”
“I rented six just in case. They’re outside; let’s go arrange them and I can decide who sits with who.”
“Why don’t you just let everyone choose who they want to sit with?”
Andrew suggested. “We all know each other pretty well—but I want to sit with Rod and ‘A’. They’re always terrific company.”
“And I’m not?” Peter sniffed.
“You’re OK.” Andrew grinned at him. “But they know all the scandal.”
“Huh, I’ve heard enough scandal recently,” Peter groused. “Olivia’s full of it.
Always bad mouthing someone or other. What a bitch she is. Jeff can’t stand her.”
“Who would have guessed? She comes over as such a great personality on the box.”
“Oh, she’s that all right—a great public personality—but privately, she is one mean and bitter woman.”
“All that money and success,” Andrew sighed. “You’d think that would make anyone happy.”
- 16 -
J.P. Bowie
17
Peter glanced at his friend as he unfolded the legs of one of the tables. “I think you have to be complete before you can be happy. All the money in the world can’t fill the void she obviously has in her life.”
“She’s not married?”
“Divorced. Pretty messy from what she’s told me.”
“She talks to you about this?”
“Are you kidding? She never shuts up about how he slapped her around, humiliated her in public, stole from her…”
“Wow. When did all this happen?”
“When she lived in Nebraska. She was a weather woman there then she got her own talk show. He was a newscaster at the same station. According to Olivia, he was pissed when it happened. Never could forgive her for beating him at his game. He wanted the show, but the producers wanted a woman—someone glamorous, and of course, Olivia fitted the bill.”
“She is gorgeous. Who was she married to?”
“Charles somebody…she always refers to him as ‘fuckin’ Charlie’, so if she ever mentioned his last name, I didn’t catch it.”
“Winters, maybe?”
“Oh yeah,” Peter laughed. “I never thought of that.”
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t think she knows. She dumped him when she moved to LA.”
“Can’t say I blame her,” Andrew said. “Here, where d’you want this table?”
“We’ll just group them casually, close together. You know everyone’s going to want to talk. I’ve got some fun umbrellas—very loud and festive.” They began pulling the tables together and placing folding chairs at each one. “Anyway, I’ll be very glad when this next show is over with and I don’t have to keep running up to LA to finish her portrait. It’s become a real chore.”
“And here I thought show biz was all fun and games,” Andrew chuckled.
“Not the kind of fun and games we enjoy,” Peter said, frowning. “One thing for sure though; it has made me appreciate everything I have here all the more.
I wouldn’t trade my life for hers for an instant.”
“Doesn’t she have a boyfriend, or someone in her life to keep her happy?”
“Not that I know of. Sometimes she alludes to some great love she had in the past, but she never goes into any details about him.”
“Maybe it still hurts.”
“Maybe…but I just don’t see Olivia as the type to pine after anyone for too long. She’s got that hard edge, you know?”
“Morning, boys!” Peter’s mother called from her patio.
J.P. Bowie
18
“Hi, Eve…” Andrew ran over and gave her a big hug.
“Hawaii obviously agreed with you,” she said, admiring his tan. “You look very handsome, dear.”
“Thanks.” He took her hand. “Come and supervise this set up. Who d’you want to sit with? Don’t say Rod and ‘A’ ’cause I’ve already reserved that table for David and me.”
“Anyone. I have no preference.”
“Well!” Peter huffed. “How about sitting with your son and Jeff, the guest of honor?”
“That would be nice, dear.”
“Nice… nice? First Andrew snubs my company, now you just think it would be nice. I’m beginning to feel like chopped liver.”
“My word,” Eve said as she watched Peter erect one of the table umbrellas.
“They are bright.”
“Festive is the word,” Peter said tartly. “And I got balloons to match.”
“Maybe we should all dress in black and white so we don’t clash with the decor,” Andrew teased him.
“Well, I’m in,” Eve chuckled. “I was planning on wearing a white dress anyway.”
“Fred will like that,” Peter remarked. “He’s been trying to get you into a white dress for years.”
“Peter, let’s not bring that up again.”
“Why not? You know Fred’s longing to hear you say ‘yes’.”
“I know, but…I like our friendship the way it is.”
“Mom, Fred is a great guy. You’ve know him as long as you knew Dad…”
“Will you please stop trying to push me into getting married?” His mother’s eyes flashed as she regarded her son who now returned her glare with an assumed innocent expression. “And don’t give me that ‘butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-your-mouth look’ either, young man. I’ll be the one to decide when and if I get remarried.”
“Yes, Mother…” Peter managed to look contrite. “Jeff thinks it’s a great idea,” he added with a sly smile.
“And Jeff can mind his own business too…”
“Mother,” Peter whispered aghast. “You’ve actually said something critical about Jeff? What are you thinking?”
“Oh, stop it,” Eve laughed.
“I mean, normally you think he walks on water, don’t you?” Peter baited her further.
J.P. Bowie
19
“Well,” Eve said, her mouth twitching, “Compared to you…”
Andrew burst out laughing. “You two are a riot. You should take this on the road.”
“Huh…” Peter fixed Andrew with a wry look. “You think I’m kidding don’t you? Well, let me tell you that ever since Jeff and I have lived together, he has been Mom’s favorite. I mean, you should hear her sometimes. ‘Well, before you do that, you should talk to Jeff ’, or ‘I’ll see what Jeff thinks first, or ‘Maybe Jeff would have a better idea’. It’s like my opinion counts for naught.”
“Peter,” Eve said, coloring slightly. “You do exaggerate…”
“Only a little, Mommy dearest. But then…” He grinned at her, “I tend to agree with you.”
Andrew shook his head and laughed. “You two…Not like any mother and son I’ve ever known.”
“We’ll take that as a compliment,” Peter chuckled, giving his mother a hug.
“I’ll make us some coffee,” Eve said, heading for the kitchen.
Andrew watched her go. “Did I sense some kind of undercurrent in all that?” he asked Peter.
“Not really, but…” he winked mischievously, “…if Jeff was straight and some years older, I’d worry about losing my boyfriend to my mother.”
“If Jeff was straight, he wouldn’t be your boyfriend!”
“Oh right.” Peter pretended to rethink the situation for a moment. “W
ell then, there’s nothing to worry about, is there?”
“You are an idiot,” Andrew laughed. “Okay, what’s next?”
Olivia stalked through her living room, her face stiff with anger. “Whatdya mean you’re canceling?” she yelled into the phone she clutched tightly in her hand. “I’ve moved heaven and earth to keep this day clear for you—and now you’re canceling, you son-of-a-bitch?”
“Sweetie, calm down,” the voice on the other end tried to placate her. “I told you it might be difficult.”
“Difficult? Difficult for who?” she screamed. “I’m the one with the career…I’m the one with people up my ass day and night.” She paused, gulp-ing for air. “Listen…” she finally continued in a deadly tone, “…you either get over here right now, or we are through, you understand? I’m not playing second fiddle to anyone—even it is your wife. Tell her you forgot you had an J.P. Bowie
20
appointment. Tell her you have to see a man about a dog. Tell her…I don’t care what you tell her…Just get your white ass over here— now.”
“Honey, I’m sorry, I can’t. I just can’t. We’ll do this another time, I promise…”
“There will never be another time, you putz. You spineless, ball-less poor excuse for a man…” Olivia’s voice hit the stratosphere as she exploded all over the phone. “You better hope I never see you in public you piece o’ shit, you dick-less bastard…” She was silenced by the sound of the dial tone in her ear.
“Aaaah!’ she screamed, throwing the phone up against the wall. “That fuck.”
She marched over to the intercom. “Joyce!” she bellowed. “Get in here, now.”
The seconds ticked by and there was no sign of Joyce. “Joyce, you useless bitch,” she yelled. “Get in here!”
Then she remembered…she had given Joyce the afternoon off so there would be no witness to her secret visitor. “Damn,” she muttered, her shoulders slumping. There was no one home but herself. There was no one on whom she could vent her spleen. She whirled suddenly on her heel and headed for the bar. A nice shot of Johnny Walker sounded good right about now.
She poured herself a sizable amount, threw back about half the glass then plunked herself down on a barstool. Suddenly she felt, defeated, depressed and very alone. Why, why, why had she allowed herself to get involved with a married man? Not only married, but the father of three brats…
“Christ,” she muttered, resting her head in her hand and flicking the crystal glass with her thumbnail. Another failed romance. She sighed and stood up, looking around at the luxurious room, at the priceless paintings, the exquisite and original sculptures, the expensive furnishings and wall-coverings. She had so much, she thought, and yet so damned little. Ever since she’d got rid of Charlie, and that rat, Brad Kingman, she’d had no luck with any of the men she’d dated. Her name had been linked to quite a few in the past five years. The tabloids had covered almost every one—except this latest charade. No way would Mr. High and Mighty be caught in public with her. No, all their meetings had been clandestine. At first, Olivia had enjoyed the intrigue. It added a little zest to the sex, which, she now thought with a rueful grimace, hadn’t been all that terrific.
“Let’s face it, Olivia…” she said to her reflection in the mirror behind the bar, “…you got involved with him because of who he is, not for his bedroom athletics.” Problem was, she thought, throwing back what was left of her drink, Brad Kingman had spoiled her for almost any other guy.
J.P. Bowie
21
Brad…Against her will, she let her thoughts dwell on him as she sat, toying with her empty glass. She remembered the moment she had first laid eyes on him—on stage in a revival of ‘Oh, Calcutta’, a sixties musical that had caused a sensation in its day, mainly because it required the actors to appear nude in most of their scenes. She had been instantly attracted to the sheer confident swagger of the man as he dominated the stage with his ruggedly handsome looks. Sitting in the theatre, between Brenda and Charlie, Olivia had been mesmerized by Brad’s almost overpowering presence and sexual appeal—and she knew then that she had to have him.
It had been sensational…
With an impatient sigh, she threw another shot in her glass and gulped it down. No point in thinking about that now…He was gone from her life for good. Trouble was, he’d left a space there that she’d never been able to fill.
Pushing herself off the barstool, she made her way across the sea of thick white carpeting that covered most of the enormous living room, and flung open the door to her master suite. What the hell was she going to do for the rest of the day—now that she had totally depressed herself thinking of that son-of-bitch? She certainly could not call any of her friends and tell them she was suddenly at a loose end—hell no, what would they think? Someone ditched her at the last moment, that’s what they’d think…And they’d be right, dammit!
Picking up the TV remote, she threw herself down on her silk covered bed, trying to concentrate on the images that flickered on the screen. Through the half open door, her restless gaze fell upon the easel and canvas that held her almost completed portrait.
Hey, she thought, with a smirk. Peter Painter and his fag friends were throwing a bash for that hunky Jeff ’s birthday. He had invited her…those guys would love it if she just dropped in casually. It would most likely make their day…they could brag for weeks after how Olivia Winters had deigned to show at Jeff ’s party. Yeah, that’s what she’d do.
“Hey Peter,” she’d say. “I freed up my day just so I could come celebrate with you and Jeff.” How thrilled they’d be. She slid of the bed and almost ran to the cavernous closet that housed the hundreds of outfits she had for every occasion. Swiftly, she shucked off the pale blue negligee she had chosen for her aborted liaison, and pulled a pair of white pants and a red shirt from their hangers. She’d go casual; Peter had said it would be laid back. No need to overdo it. Besides, she looked good in anything.
J.P. Bowie
22
An hour or so later, she was gunning the engine of her Jaguar convertible down the Laguna Canyon Road, ready to give Peter and his buddies the surprise of their lives.
Luke Taylor, the bartender Peter had hired for the party, gave Jeff a big smile as he approached him, empty glass in hand. “How’re you holding up?” he asked.
“Not bad, for an old guy,” Jeff quipped. “I’m never quite sure what the purpose of throwing a birthday bash is. Is it to remind you you’re another year older, or help you forget?”
Luke chuckled as he refilled Jeff ’s champagne glass. “You’re in pretty good shape for an ‘old guy’.”
“Thanks.” Jeff sipped his drink, looking at Luke thoughtfully, taking in the young man’s well-honed physique, only partially concealed by the white shirt he wore. “You’re not the usual bartender the caterers use.”
“No, that’s my brother, Wes. He had another gig, so he asked me to fill in for him. Hope that’s OK?”
“Of course.” Jeff held out his hand. “I’m Jeff, by the way.”
“Luke, Luke Taylor. Happy birthday,” he added, shaking Jeff ’s hand. “Looks like everyone’s having a great time.”
“They always do. They’re party animals. They’ll keep you hopping all night.” Jeff grinned at him. “If you can survive this, you can chalk it up to experience…” He was cut short as two big arms crushed him in a bear hug from behind. Without turning round he yelled; “Rob!”
“How’d you know it was me?” His old high school buddy laughed in his ear.
“Sorry we’re late; the baby sitter kept us waiting.”
“Happy birthday, Jeff.” Maggie, Rob’s wife stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.
“Good to see you.” Jeff hugged them both. “Luke, these are my friends from high school, Rob and Maggie. Champagne, guys?”
Smiling, they accepted their glasses from Luke and toasted Jeff ’s health.
“Quite a shindig,” Rob remarked as they walked away f
rom the bar. “Who are the two guys talking to Rod and ‘A’?”
“Oh right,” Jeff said. “You haven’t met my business partner, Nick Fallon, yet.
He’s the taller one. Eric’s his boyfriend. We met them in New York when we were there visiting Andrew and David. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
J.P. Bowie
23
They strolled over to where their English friends, Rod and ‘A’ (short for Arthur) were engaged in an animated discussion with Nick and Eric. Jeff made the introductions then left them to get acquainted, while he went looking for Peter.
“Where’s Peter?” he asked Eve who was sitting at a table with Fred, Anthony and Justin.
Eve shook her head. “I really don’t know, Jeff.”
Emily, standing near him talking to her cousin Gloria, touched his arm. “He said he thought he heard the doorbell,” she said. “He went to investigate.”
“Oh yeah? I thought everyone was here already…Well, if you lovely ladies will excuse me, I’ll just go find…” He stopped, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw Peter coming through the French doors, accompanied by the last person he expected to see that day.
Jesus…He groaned silently. What the hell is she doing here?
“Jeff, honey!” Olivia cried, brandishing a magnum of Dom Perignon.
“Happy birthday, doll.” She thrust the bottle into Luke’s startled grasp, then opened her arms wide to accept Jeff ’s embrace as he started toward her, trying to look delighted, while behind her, Peter silently mouthed the words; I’m so sorry.
“Surprised to see me?” Olivia asked, bussing Jeff ’s cheek.
“Totally,” Jeff said with the utmost conviction. “I’ve never had a bigger surprise.” He locked eyes with Peter for a millisecond then chuckled. “Peter, you scamp, why didn’t you tell me Olivia was coming?”
Peter gave him a sickly smile, unable to come up with a smart quip in reply.
Instead, he said to all assembled; “Everyone, this is so great…Olivia Winters stopped by to wish Jeff a happy birthday.”
Everyone crowded round, eager to shake the hand of so distinguished a surprise guest. Not all of them had heard Peter’s acerbic comments about working with Olivia, and knew of her only from what they had seen on TV or read about her in newspapers or magazines.