by kps
Publicity-the new movie. Harris and Yves were arguing about just how much publicity, She heard other names mentioned for the major roles. A South American playboy, for instance, who raced cars and loved hunting. She'd heard the name before; it brought an image of smiling magazine pictures. But just for an instant. God, she was tired! Everything was catching up with her at once.
"Drink your martini up, darling. I have another one on the way." Carol was good at playing the gracious hostess. Harris, sitting by her, stroking her arm. "Anne, can you be ready to leave for California in three days? You're becoming a nervous wreck, love, and the change of scenery will be good for you. You can relax, laze in the Sun for a week before we start shooting Greed for Glory. And I know you're going to be great."
She must have answered him, because he leaned forward to kiss her lightly. "I'm going to make all the arrangements. You don't have to worry about anything-will you remember that?"
Everyone was insistent that she mustn't worry. Even Craig, who wanted her to leave London-leave England. Well, it was all working out that way, wasn't it? But where was Webb? Anne remembered, belatedly, that Webb didn't know yet. He'd wanted Claudia to play her part; or so Carol had said. But surely he wouldn't mind when he found out? Because he hadn't been seeing Claudia recently; he'd spent most of his time with her. And she didn't care what Craig said-she wouldn't believe any of it!
Tired of people telling her about Webb, warning her ... if Webb didn't want to be with her, he wouldn't be. Keep it simple and uncomplicated, Anne!
"Hello, lovely thing. You look very lonely, sitting here all by yourself. Just like you need company." Karim put his arm around her shoulders, easing her against him; and it would take too much effort to pull away. "Listen," he whispered, his warm breath tickling her ear, "why don't we go away from here and be together? I want you-and even more when you look like a frightened gazelle!"
Rousing herself, Anne gave him a reproachful look. "Why do you keep talking that way?" she murmured. "Venetia's probably waiting up for you!"
"Venetia? Hah! I am not her property. And in any case, she's not around. She's gone to visit some old aunt of hers in Ireland. I didn't ask her when she would be back, because I did not care. Is that clear?"
Ireland! Like a needle prick the thought stiffened her, wak: ing her out of her torpor.
Coincidence? Webb didn't need to pretend, not with her. And he'd asked her to go along with him, hadn't he?
She realized suddenly that Carol was turning away from the door, having seen Harris and Yves out. She looked at them with her eyebrows raised. "Well, you two? Made up your minds yet?"
"I have made mine up!" Karim said positively.
At about the same time, Anne shrugged away from his too-tight arm, saying, "I think I've had too much to drink. I'd really better go back."
"Back to where, darling?" Carol sounded impatient as she crossed the room, the skirt of her long hostess gown outlining her magnificent legs. "Look, let me call first, will you? I don't care for the idea of your being alone tonight, Anne. I'd never forgive myself if ..." Switching to a false brightness, she picked up the telephone. "Just hold on a minute, hmm, sweetie? Webb's such an unpredictable bastard, as we both know!"
It seemed ages before Carol put down the receiver with a decided "click."
"Well! I guess he decided to stay on-or catch a later flight. Who knows, with that son of a bitch? But you can stay over here. I've got extras of everything, including bedrooms. And no, baby, I won't listen to any arguments. I mean, it would be silly!
We'll just leave a message with the desk in case Webb does turn up tonight."
In the end Karim went away disappointed, trying to hide his scowl when he realized Anne meant it. "Well, there will be other times, yes? You may play the coquette-it intrigues me even while it makes me angry! You know that, I think, because you are very feminine. You deny me because you are fascinated, and afraid because you know when the little games we play are ended, I will have you."
"Oh shit! What a character!" Carol pulled a disgusted face. "But at least he doesn't play let's-pretend, does he? Come on to bed, love. You look about ready to pass out!"
She fell asleep almost instantly, wearing a silky nightgown borrowed from Carol. Not giving herself time to miss her own nakedness and Webb's, pressed closely against her.
Unfamiliar skirts twisted around her legs, stopping her from kicking out, from trying to swim frantically to the surface, pale-green and tantalizingly close above her. And as always in her Dream, the sea had her again.
Long streamers of kelp wrapped themselves with insinuating gentleness around her body like the arms of a false lover, holding her down when she would have struck out despairingly for the surface. She was suspended in two places at once. The sand was cold and crunchy under her bare feet, and the sea-water chill against her body.
She could see her own hair, silvery strands floating around her face. And she knew with a mounting terror that she had to escape, had to get free of the encircling bands of seaweed that tightened, and tightened ... but they held her fast. She screamed, and knew despairingly that now the water would come rushing into her open mouth.
She was drowning, and no one could save her. How could they, when she wasn't supposed to be here and nobody knew?
"Anne I Anne, wake up! Are you okay?"
It was Carol and not Webb bending over her. Carol's long red hair brushed her shoulders. "My God, baby! Do you often have nightmares like that? The way you screamed .. ."
She was all damp with perspiration, even her face. It took her some time to realize she was sobbing uncontrollably. Last time she had had the Dream, Webb had held her close, very tight.
"Annie! Baby, you're safe," he said, soothingly. "What was it?"
"I –I had the nightmare again. The Dream .. ."
"The same one? Hey, didn't your shrink tell you that telling your dreams scares them away? Tell me about it, baby."
"I always go back there in the Dream .. ."
Shaky, half-awake whisper. "Back to where? Tell me."
"To the house. Spindrift, where my grandparents lived. Only everyone else called it the Mallory place. My-my mother used to take me there when I was a little girl, and I used to love the ocean, until-until one day .. ." She stopped, swallowed, closing her eyes.
"One day what?"
She made herself force the words out. "One day she-drowned. My mother. And I found her first, you see. We'd gone down to the beach together-I think we did! But I was waiting for her, and waiting-and she didn't come. I kept waiting. I was afraid to go back up alone, so I ran up and down the beach looking for her and I-I thought it was a piece of driftwood at first, and then I saw her hair ..."
Turning her face, she'd pressed it against his warm flesh. "In my Dream," she whispered, her voice muffled, "it's me that's drowning. I-I know how it feels, Webb! It happens to me!"
"Hush now, that's enough. Don't talk about it anymore, don't think about it, love."
Webb's hand stroked her hair gently; she felt him move closer, adjusting his body to hers. Flame through her belly then, as the Dream faded and reality came back.
But this time it wasn't Webb but Carol who hung over her, long nails digging into her shoulder. A different, colder reality. Why couldn't it have been Webb?
Carol shook her, repeating something sharply. "Are you sure you're awake now?
Shall I get you some water to drink? You sure had me scared for a moment. I thought there were burglars in here! Want to come in my room with me?"
Carol was treating her like a child! Anne shook her head stubbornly. "Oh no, I'm fine now, honestly! I'm sorry I woke you up, Carol."
"That's okay." But Carol still looked doubtful. She gave a short laugh. "For a moment there I thought you were still hallucinating off that Colombian Gold we were smoking.
Shit, it even sends me into a spin, just a couple of drags. You should have let Karim stay, and we could have shared. I understand he's got more than enough t
o go around!"
Anne swallowed one of Carol's tranquilizers; and this time when sleep overtook her, it was like falling into a long black tunnel. There were no more dreams, and the darkness held her fast until late into the morning.
Webb had still not returned when she tried calling at eleven o'clock, still trying to blink the heavy dregs of sleep from her eyes. The impersonal voice at the desk told her there had been no messages.
"It's so damned typical of him!" Carol snapped, adding briskly, "Well, at least you do have a key, don't you, pet? Give the bastard a shock-get your clothes and move out, why don't you? You could stay here; I'd really love to have you. And Harris will be coming over this afternoon to talk about tickets and travel arrangements and stuff. I think they want to take some pictures tonight, when he makes the big announcement.
End of talent hunt, and all that!" She laughed her famous husky laugh. "Christ, I'm starting to sound British, aren't I? I'll be glad to get back home for a nice long rest after this. In time for the Awards. And who knows, this time next year maybe you'll be up for an Oscar! It's a crazy upside-down life, baby, but fun, as you'll find."
She thrust newspapers, an untidy pile, at Anne without waiting for a reply. "Here, why don't you read these if you want to while you're having your coffee and rolls? Elsie's got your bath running-she's a treasure, and I might just steal her to go back to the States with me."
Where was Webb? Stupid of her to wonder-but if anything had happened ...
Thank God-nothing! No headlines screaming of an airplane crash. Just more politics: the worsening situation in Belfast, hints that the Irish Republican Army was being secretly financed and supplied with arms by foreign sources.
Anne tossed the papers away, torn between relief and anger. Oh, damn Webb! And damn her weakness for him! Carol was right, she should be sensible for a change and turn the tables on him. Break it off before he did.
But she had still not been able to define her feelings when Craig picked her up, his face carefully blank. "Good old Craig!" Carol had whispered over a bubble of laughter. "He is faithful, isn't he? And attentive just at the right times. You're lucky, Anne!" Wasn't that what everyone kept telling her?
"It seems as if everything I've tried to tell you recently has been the wrong thing, Anne," Craig said when they were alone. "And I'm not happy about the role I've been cast in, any more than you are, I'm sure. I'm glad you've made some kind of decision, though-as little as I approve of your latest venture! Carol Cochran is honest in her own way, I suppose. Which is more than I can say about that Tressider woman."
"Venetia? Why do you keep on bringing her up, Craig?"
His face took on its familiar, guarded look, and he wouldn't answer her directly. "For God's sake, Anne! You're not a naive child. Venetia Tressider is a wild, misguided woman with too much money and a penchant for causes. Usually the wrong ones.
She's headed for trouble, and could drag in everyone she's been associated with.
Anne"-he sounded distracted for a moment, smoothing his hair back in an uncharacteristic gesture-"I don't think I've been able to make you understand yet how damned vulnerable you are! There are people who could and would use you without scruple. And whether you like it or not, you're in the middle of a damned ugly situation. The sooner you're out of it, the better and easier for us all. And look, if I've put your back up again, I'm sorry! But it's been a strain-on me, on Duncan, especially after what's happened. On a lot of other people as well. There's almost been a damned diplomatic crisisover this!
"Craig, that's enough!" Her head had begun to ache, and almost unconsciouslyshe began to massage her temples with her fingertips. After last night, this was too much.
God, she was so mixed up! What was Craig really trying to say? What was she doing with him? No, she didn't understand.
It was even harder to walk up the familiar staircase under the blank stare of the desk clerk, than to let herself into the suite with her key. Tactfully, Craig had stayed in the lobby. But what was she supposed to do now? Suddenly it all seemed overdramatic, a decision she'd somehow been pushed into. Webb hadn't called ... but suppose he had, and got no answer? Anything could have come up. The fact that Venetia just happened to be visiting relatives in Ireland at the same time was a coincidence. Why was she letting herself be influenced by everyone else?
Looking around the room, so impersonal now the maid had made the rumpled bed, Anne had to sit down, her knees suddenly weak. There was no one to turn to for advice now. Just herself.
"For a change, be the one to do it to him first, Anne. Break off with the bastard!"
Carol (hadn't she been right before?) and Craig. All the examples she'd seen of the contemptuous way Webb Carnahan treated women; sloughing them off without even the sop of an excuse when he was tired of them, to move onto someone new. The typical Don Juan. Readings in Abnormal Psychology.
The phone rang then, saving her. Or was it?
Craig-his voice urgent. "Anne? Look-keep the door locked and don't open it. Don't answer any knocks, do you hear?"
"But .. ."
"It's that photographer fellow. He's as slippery as an eel.
I wonder how he got back down here so fast? But I'll get rid of him, and then I'll explain. Just hold on .. ."
Craig's explanations were what decided her in the end. Stubborn pride won out over anger and hurt.
Johnnie Bardini (who had knocked a long time and even tried to pick the lock on the door before the hotel detective got rid of him) had flown to Ireland, too, on a hunch.
On the same flight as Venetia Tressider. And Webb had spent the night with Venetia-Johnnie had even taken pictures of them strolling hand in hand down the streets together this very morning, before he left. Naturally, after all the publicity that the hot romance between Webb Carnahan and Anne Mallory had gleaned, Johnnie wanted to be the first to photograph Anne's reactions when he told her.
That he didn't get them was thanks to Craig, of course. And thanks later to Harris, who had offered Johnnie a scoop. Pictures of Anne Mallory, who was to be the star in his latest picture, with her other co-star, Karim. Hints that she found the handsome Egyptian even more fascinating. More pictures, with Harris and Yves Pleydel, both smiling. Yves with his arm about Anne's shoulder, whispering in her ear. And a quote that he found her a fascinating enigma-with much more potential than any of his ex-wives had possessed!
And so Anne's pride was salvaged and she was grateful to Harris, who had stepped in again. But Webb? How would he react?
It was Carol who answered her unspoken questions when she said shrewdly, "I wouldn't worry about Webb, if that's what you're doing, sweetie! He does have a contract with Harris, and he wants to do this movie. He can't back off now without making himself look silly-or jealous! I mean, I do know our darling Webb, and he's an actor, a professional." Her eyes gleamed maliciously for a moment. "Maybe he'll take up with Claudia again-if he doesn't find someone else among the extras. Just be glad you finally learned, love!"
Stung, Anne retorted lightly, "Learned? But, Carol darling, I was just practicing, and Webb's such a good teacher, you know!"
Again she caught Carol's surprised, reappraising look, and it helped to quiet the strange mixture of emotions inside her.
She was almost ready to face Webb again. Hoping, beneath her insouciant exterior, that he would act at least halfway civilized. Knowing in her guts that he wouldn't, that he'd make it hard for her. But in order to act torrid love scenes with Webb, she had to get him out of her blood. Like Carol, she should cling to hate and disillusionment.
Brave words she'd told herself before. But with all of her preparing, Anne was caught off guard by Webb's total non reaction when they met again.
He walked in late as usual; into the middle of the crowd and the fuss that was going on in Harris's suite at the Dorchester. Wearing his favorite faded-blue levis and a rough-textured shirt that had to be new-she hadn't seen it before. Alone. She had half-expected him to flaunt Venetia on his arm
as he had Claudia less than two weeks ago.
"Hi, Harris. Christ, the traffic coming from· the airport was fucking murder! I need a drink. A damn long one."
Anne watched, fascinated, as Johnnie Bardini edged up closer, his camera held protectively. Webb raised one eyebrow, saying without rancor, "Johnnie, you bastard, I ought to kick you right in the ass. You sure get around, don't you?"
"It's my thing, Carnahan, you know that." "Sure. So you can take my picture now I've got my drink and tell all your avid followers I'm a drunken bum."
"I'd like to take your picture with Anne." Bardini's voice sounded bolder. "How do you feel about having her for your leading lady?"
Webb shrugged. "So how should I feel? I think it's great. Annie's going to make a great actress. She's got everything it takes."
He walked over to her then, brushing an impersonal kiss across her cold lips. "You enjoying all the publicity, baby? Having fun?"
There was no way she could tell what he was thinking or feeling. He might have been a stranger, like Karim, who stayed close to her, touching her possessively when he wasn't posing for the cameras. She had the wierdest sensation that this was part of a movie-everyone acting their parts. Dress rehearsal for the real thing.
Annie's going to make a great actress. She's got everything it takes.
Webb had been a warm stranger, using her. And now he was ... more like a detached acquaintance. No questions, no explanations, nothing.
And that's the way it is. Who was it who always ended his newscast that way?
PART THREE
THE PRODUCER
Chapter Nineteen
AND THIS IS THE WAY IT IS, and is going to be for a long time to come-better get used to it, Anne.