The Proud and the Prejudiced: A Modern Twist on Pride and Prejudice

by Colette Saucier

  “I could never go out with a guy with the last name ‘Dover.’”

  “Why not?”

  “What if we ended up getting married? Then I’d be Eileen Dover.”

  They both erupted with laughter, which Alice stoked by adding, “Too bad he doesn’t have a brother named Ben!” Alice almost choked on the remainder of her champagne and took a full glass from the bar.

  “Alice, listen. I need to talk to you about something. Well, this probably isn’t the right time or place.”

  Alice turned her full attention back to Eileen. “That doesn’t sound good. Let me finish this glass, and then I’ll be ready to hear it.” She drank most of it down and then studied her friend.

  “I got a part – in a film.”

  “Eileen, that’s great!” She smiled broadly and pulled Eileen into a hug. “That calls for more champagne! So tell me about it.”

  “It’s a small part, but I do have lines and lots of screen time.”

  “What’s the role?”

  Eileen glanced down at her glass then back to Alice. “It’s as an old hag.”

  Alice burst out laughing. “I know you said you aren’t as beautiful as Giselle, but you’re certainly no old hag!”

  “They’ll use make-up, silly, and this could be a great opportunity for me.”

  “I know. It really is wonderful. So when do you need to be on set?”

  “I have to be in Louisiana by the end of the month.”

  “Louisiana in August. Ech. At least that’s during the Olympics so I don’t have to send you off to a medical convention or something.”

  “Well, that’s the thing I need to talk to you about. I don’t want to come back.”

  Alice thought she must not have heard correctly. “What?”

  “I’m leaving All My Tomorrows, Alice. I need you to write me out.”

  “Shit – how long do you have to be on location?”

  “It’s not just this film. I really want to give this a shot. I’ve been giving it a lot of thought ever since we thought the soap was going to be cancelled. Don’t hate me for saying it, but I don’t want to spend my entire career on a daytime drama.”

  “Of course I don’t hate you. I feel the same way. Don’t you dare repeat this, but I do want something more. As long as you don’t kick me out of your life, I want you to have everything you want.”

  “I would never let you out of my life. In fact, I wanted to see if you would come with me on location.”

  “Louisiana in August? No way. Not happening. You might have to suffer for your art, but I don’t.”

  “I’ve been so worried about telling you. I’m sorry you have to change the storyline.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but I will not kill you.” The bartender stopped mid-pour at Alice’s declaration. “I refuse to kill you off, just in case you want to come back. Peter’s leaving, so you can go visit him to spend time with your devastated brother, and while you are there, you meet the man of your dreams.” Speaking of which… “Now I have to find out when Rich is getting here.”

  Alice set off on the journey to the front of the house, stopping only to speak to Jack-and-Giselle – they were joined at the hip, after all – and with a few missteps along the way. She finally retrieved her purse from the “cloakroom” and pulled out her cell. A text.

  Still in malb not gonna make it sorry prob better not to spoil the party by pissing off vold

  She would have thrown the phone across the marble tile except she really liked the case, but she did shove it back into her purse with great force. That’s it. I’m going to go. Except she had not eaten much all day, and the three glasses of champagne had gone straight to her head.

  “Fuck it.” She tossed her purse down and marched toward the party. She barely knew this guy; she was not going to let his non-appearance prevent her from having fun with her friends – really the only family she had.

  Alice had not counted how many glasses of champagne she’d had, but it must have been quite a few to get her out on the patio dance floor. She had to admit, the band could imitate just about any song from the eighties like a New Wave mynah bird. In fact, although she didn’t know whether to credit her friends or the upbeat music or the champagne – perhaps the combination – she could not remember the last time she’d had so much fun. She and Eileen and Jack and Giselle were hopping around frenetically under the stars and twinkling lights to some song she didn’t even recognize but that sounded like eighties pop.

  After ten or more fast songs in a row, the music stopped, and a saxophonist came into the stage lighting. As the opening riff for “Careless Whisper” began, Jack-and-Giselle again became a unit, and a cameraman took a laughing Eileen into waltz position.

  Alice turned to leave the dance floor and stopped just short of walking into Peter. Before she understood what was happening, he had taken her hands and tugged her toward him.

  “Where’s Winnie?” she asked.

  He furrowed his brow and peered at her through squinted eyes. “Why would she be here?”

  He stepped forward as she resisted. “I’ve been dancing – I’m all sweaty.” She was, too. Her blouse clung to her chest, and her scalp was drenched.

  “So am I.” He traced her face with his eyes and pulled her into his arms.

  Her arms were trapped against his damp chest, so she had no choice but to circle them around his neck; but that only brought their bodies closer. They barely moved, their feet somehow turning them in a sluggish rotation, reminding her of slow dancing in high school. A tingly numbness enveloped her. She surrendered to it and laid her head against his shoulder, and he tightened his hold.

  God, she loved this song. Her mother had it on almost all of her playlists. The singer sounded so much like George Michael, or perhaps the champagne improved his performance. With her eyes closed, she released a full, deep sigh. Only one thing could improve this moment.

  As if he had read her mind, Peter pulled back ever so slightly and lifted her chin with his forefinger then brought his mouth down upon hers. Nothing sweet and gentle here. He claimed her mouth with fierce passion, and she reciprocated. Their lips moving together as they continued their semblance of a dance, her body pressed against his, converged to send a charge of electricity coursing through her. He pushed his fingers through her wet hair, pulling her mouth even closer as his tongue collided with hers. He stopped even pretending to dance then, focusing all effort on the mutual plunder of their mouths.

  The song had not ended when he pulled his face away. Confused, she opened her eyes and found him gazing at her intensely. The second refrain came to an end; only then did he release his hold on her hair. Taking her hand, his other arm still around her waist, he led her away from the others and into the house while the saxophone continued to play.

  As soon as they entered the dark silent room and the door closed behind them, he had her against the wall and his mouth upon hers. She couldn’t get enough of it – she never wanted his mouth to leave – and she wrapped her arms around his neck to prevent its escape.

  He must have felt the same way because, even as he began to unbutton her blouse, he never broke away, never released her lips to trail soft kisses down her throat or nibble her ear or any such nonsense. She wanted to consume him and to be consumed in return. He felt good, he tasted good, he smelled good. She had already kissed away the saltiness of sweat from his lips, but his scent of spice and lust still teased her. Their chests rose and fell in rapid synchronicity. Although he had unbuttoned her blouse with care, he exercised no restraint with his own, pulling it apart as buttons jumped into the dark. He opened the front closure of her bra, but he did not bring a hand to her breast. Instead he laid his hands against the skin of her back, pressing his bare chest against her breasts so she could not imagine how he could hold her any closer. And never once did his mouth cease its relentless assault.

  They kissed in this manner for some time until she could think of only one way to bring him closer, and she could f
eel his desire as well. As if by instinct, she parted her legs, and he pressed himself against her. He set her on fire – she yearned for him, burned for him, but only he could extinguish the flame. Her heart raced, and she couldn’t catch her breath until she thought she might suffocate. Only with all her strength could she take her mouth from his to pant for air. He panted as well and dropped his head against her forehead.

  “Alice.” Her name had never sounded erotic until spoken with his breathless voice.

  His voice. Peter. No, no, no.

  “Wait,” she said, bringing her hands to his shoulders and pushing him back an inch, but she kept her eyes squeezed shut. Oh, no. I am one of them – one of his groupies.

  “Alice. Be with me tonight. I have to go to Toronto tomorrow, but –”

  “Oh, no.” She extricated herself from his embrace. A one-night stand. I almost become one in his long string of them. She blessed the darkness of the room that concealed her blush and her nudity as she fumbled with her clothes.

  He reached for her, but she flinched under his touch. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “This – all of this. This is a mistake.”

  “Alice, don’t say that.”

  When he took hold of her arm, she jerked away. “Stop! I-I’m sorry. I’ve had too much to drink. This should not be happening. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

  He switched a lamp on just as she finished buttoning her blouse, but she had missed one in the process and had to begin again.

  “Look at me,” he commanded, and for some reason she obeyed.

  She couldn’t believe how delicious she found him, the strength of the attraction with his shirt open, his breathing still heavy, his mouth…She looked away.

  “It’s him, isn’t it?” A hostile edginess sharpened his tone.

  “Who?”

  “Rich. I saw him, in your office, kissing you.”

  “Oh, now I see what this is about!”

  “What what is about?”

  She did face him then, prepared for the challenge. “You and Rich. You could have any other woman, but you cannot stand for him to have something that you don’t.”

  “Is that it, Alice? Does he have you?”

  “That is none of your business!”

  “Are you sleeping with him?”

  “That is really none of your business!”

  She turned and strode with purpose to the door and out into the hallway with him right behind her.

  “Listen to me – you need to be careful with him.”

  “Says the half-naked man who was just ravaging me!”

  “You didn’t seem to mind. In fact, I would say you –”

  She interrupted him with a primitive sound – half-growl, half-groan. “Stop following me! I am not one of your bimbettes!”

  She marched on toward the sounds of the party in progress and turned into a lounge-like room, quiet except for Mrs. Jellyby’s voice reverberating from the sofa where she sat pontificating to a weary Mr. Peacock.

  “You’ve seen how he is with her,” Mrs. Jellyby said, oblivious to the presence of Alice and Peter just inside the room. “She has him wrapped around her little finger! You know the people he represents. He will get her a movie deal before the year is out – mark my words! And once Giselle is in films, just think what that will mean for the show!”

  Mr. Peacock noticed them then. “Alice? Is something wrong?”

  Alice could only imagine how she must look to them – her hair a tangled mess, her face a chafed wreck, and a bare-chested movie star behind her. She muttered something unintelligible and fled out the other side of the room, which miraculously emptied into a hall leading to the front door.

  “Alice, stop,” Peter said, but she did not. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  She retrieved her purse and dug for her keys. “That, actually, is none of your business either!”

  His eyes hardened and his jaw stiff, he grabbed the purse from her hands and held it out of her reach. “You are not going anywhere.”

  “What the hell, Peter? I just want go home.” She covered her eyes with her hand and released an exhausted sigh. Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry.

  “I’ll drive you. You’ve had too much to drink.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You just told me the only reason you couldn’t keep your hands off me was because you were drunk!”

  “Amazing how anger can be so sobering. Let me have my purse!”

  “I said I would drive you.”

  “You have a house full of guests – you can’t leave. And look at your shirt. Please let me go before someone else sees us and thinks we…”

  “I’ll drive her,” Mr. Peacock said behind them. They both turned to him as he came forward and yanked her purse from Peter’s hand. He looked Peter up and down as if he emitted an offensive odor, then with his arm around Alice’s waist, he walked her out the front door.

  CHAPTER 9

  Rich tapped a knuckle on her open door. Alice hadn’t bothered to close it, too exhausted even to say come in. She lifted her eyes from her book to him without a word.

  “Do you want to go get some lunch?”

  “No, thanks. I brought mine.” She motioned to the remaining half of her sandwich with the book.

  “What’re you reading?”

  “Research…on melodrama.”

  He walked in and sat on the edge of her desk. “I feel like you’re avoiding me. Are you still pissed about the party?”

  “I told you when you called Sunday, I think you were right not to come. I’m not avoiding you. I’m just busy.”

  He held her gaze for a moment, gritting his teeth. “Is it because of Peter?”

  She rolled her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  “People saw you, Alice. They saw you kissing him.”

  Alice dropped her forehead 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 ‘movi
e 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 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?