Pot of gold : a novel

by Michael, Judith

  Claire rested against him briefly. She wanted that, too. But it would not last. She knew it would not because her sexual desire was so deeply entwined with the mindless comfort she still found in his authoritarianism that she knew as soon as she rebelled against his authority that desire would vanish. But for now, she could not ignore it, or even diminish it.

  Emma and I, she thought; and wondered if Emma reahzed what had happened to her with Brix: that she was caught with a man who seemed so powerful she could not escape her own desire and so became submissive. I have to talk to her about it, Claire thought. But she knew she could not until she had broken away from Quentin.

  That's what I have to figure out how to do, she told herself as they joined the party in the living room. But first, tomorrow morning I'm going to form Goddard Designs, Incorporated, and it won't be a subsidiary of anything.

  TWELVE

  E

  M M A saw Brix watching from the doorway and her heart leaped. Her body leaned toward him. "Hey," Tod Tallent said.

  "Fm sorry," she murmured, and resumed her pose, leaning back on her hands, her long legs stretched out, her head thrown back and her eyes closed, as if soaking up the sun. She was wearing white shorts and a white bikini top and she sat in a circle of blinding light.

  "Nice," Tod muttered, circling her. "Okay, Emma, that's it. The last shoot of the campaign, unless somebody has a brilliant idea and we start again. You've been terrific; I hope we work together again sometime."

  Emma stood and hugged him, catching him unawares. "You're so nice, Tod. Thank you for being nice and making me look good."

  "Sweetheart, you made me look good. It's been a blast. You'll be on the road in January-, right.'' Personal appearances and all that.'"'

  "I don't know. I think so. Nobody's said anything definite."

  "Well, whatever. You'll do great. I guess you want to get going."

  Emma blushed because she knew he had seen her glancing at Brix, longing to go to him. "It's just that—"

  "No sweat, it's okay. Listen, Emma, before you go."

  "Yes.''" she said when he paused.

  "You need an agent. You're going to be too big to handle this yourself, even if it's you and your mother doing it."

  "Too big?"

  "Hale's been getting calls. Ralph Lauren. Donna Karan. One or two others. These are not little ma-and-pa outfits, as you well know; these are major players, and they're interested in you. They know you've been getting mail; they know all about you. Plus, what do you do when Eiger offers you a contract.^"

  "Are they going to.'^"

  "That's what I hear."

  "How do you—"

  "I listen. You wouldn't believe how much I hear. People think the guy with the camera is deaf, like all my faculties are tied up in the viewfinder; it's very weird. Anyway, I just thought. . . you know, a suggestion ..."

  "Hale didn't tell me about Ralph Lauren or Donna Karan, or anybody."

  "Well, maybe I'm wrong. Ask Brix; he knows about it. Goodbye, sweetheart; you take care of yourself."

  Emma stood still, frowning, when he left. Brix crossed the empty room and stood close to her, running his hands over her warm, bare arms, her back, around her waist. He slid his fingers inside the bikini top and held her breast. "Emma, you are one fantastic girl. I just about went crazy, watching you."

  He put his other arm around her, pulling her roughly to him, and kissed her, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe. Emma's skin prickled beneath his tweed suit, her bare toes pressed against the glossy shine of his shoes, her fingers lay along the starched crease of his shirt collar. She felt embarrassed by being almost naked while he was so completely and professionally clothed and she opened her eyes, confused by too many sensations. "I have to get dressed."

  "No, come over here." His voice was thick. "You can't leave now. You drove me crazy, you know, the way you were coming on to Tod . . ." He pushed her onto the couch in the corner of the studio and pulled off her shorts and underpants, ignoring her hands, fluttering uncertainly against his chest, and her bewildered eyes. "You don't know how you look, what it does to people," he muttered. He unzipped his pants and lay on her and then was inside her.

  His belt and open zipper cut into Emma's skin, shattering her arousal. He had never made love to her with his clothes on, and

  she did not know what to do with her hands; it seemed wrong to embrace his suit jacket, it made her feel even more embarrassed at her nudity, and wicked, as nothing else had. When he groaned, much more quickly than usual, and lay still, she was grateful because she knew he would move off her. She had never before wanted Brix to go away from her.

  He did not look at her when he stood up, and his back was to her as he zipped his pants and tucked in his shirt and adjusted his jacket. "Going back to work," he said. "I'll see you later."

  Slowly, Emma sat up and pulled on her underpants and shorts. He's ashamed because he couldn't stop himself, she thought. She felt sad for him, as if he were a child who had had a tantrum. It was the first time Emma had ever thought of Brix as younger or weaker than she was.

  But he can '/ be weaker; he's the strongest person I know. He takes care of me audi need him. She went to the dressing room to change into her clothes for the evening. What happened this afternoon was something that never happened before and won't ever happen again, she thought. So we won't talk about it. We'll forget it happened. It doesn't mean a thing.

  She drove to Eiger Labs, but when she walked into the building, she stood in the lobby, undecided, suddenly reluctant to see Brix right away. Instead, she went looking for Gina.

  "Just in time for tea," Gina said. She gave Emma a hug and then held her away from her. "You look a little down."

  "Oh, I guess I am. We finished the PK-20 photo shoots today and I feel sort of sad." As she said it, she realized it was true. Brix had not given her a chance to think about it, but now it struck her: she had no more work to do. Even if they decided to send her to stores to promote the line, that would not be until Januar, and it was only the middle of November now. "I guess I feel like nobody needs me."

  "I know the feeling. But it's not true, you know; you've still got a job. And you deserve a rest; they've been working you awfully hard."

  Emma shook her head. "It was wonderful. And it kept me busy."

  Gina handed her a mug of tea. "I checked out those test reports, Emma. There aren't any problems; nobody had any kind

  of bad reaction, Latin or otherwise, and there wasn't a word about bhndness. Are you sure you read those memos right?"

  ''Of course I am. Well, I think I am. I mean, I was kind of in a hurry, but I know I saw something about somebody going blind in one eye, because it was so awful, and I didn't dream up any Latin words, and I didn't make up conjunctivitis, either."

  "Well, you've got me. Kurt Green, he's the head of the testing lab, showed me the cumulative reports on all the tests they've done so far, and they were perfect, no red flags, nothing. Of course I didn't look at the individual tests—there are thousands of them—and I couldn't spend too long on the ones he did show me because all I'd told him was that I was curious about how PK-20 was shaping up, but if there'd been a problem, it would have shown up on the cumulatives. In fact, that's where problems show the most, because the numbers are bigger."

  "Somebody changed them," Emma declared.

  "Ssshhh, bite your tongue. It's a criminal offense and you don't want anybody around here doing that. It could sink the whole line, not just the eye cream, and at this point that could sink the whole company. Nobody would take that risk."

  "Well, I know what I saw," Emma said stubbornly. "I didn't dream it. What are you going to do now.'"'

  "There's not much I can do. In the first place, I never had anything to do with PK-20, and I can't start asking questions or demanding to see more data now, assuming there is any. But the main thing is, Emma, I don't expect to be here much longer."

  "You're /eavingP Why? Because you think the lab i
s in trouble.'^ It might close down.-^"

  "No, there's no reason to think that, Emma; I'm leaving because I've found something better. And listen, I haven't told them yet, so I want you to keep this quiet."

  "Well, I will, but where are you going.''"

  "Someplace where I can do work I like better than being a lab technician."

  "The horses!" Emma exclaimed.

  "You've got it. At least, that's part of it. There's a six-hundred-acre farm there that needs managing; I'll be helping with that, too. And we're planning to manage some of the farms nearby that

  are owned by New Yorkers as a hobby, so they can have a place for weekends."

  "That's nice." Emma's attention was wandering; it was hard for her to concentrate on anything but Brix for very long. He'd been telling her lately how important he was to the company these days; how his father trusted and needed him and wouldn't even be able to release the PK-20 line without him. But what if Quentin was getting Brix involved in something so he could blame him if anything ever went wrong.''

  I've got to find out, Emma thought. Brix would never think of that on his own.

  "Gina, I have to go," she said abruptly. "I'm meeting Brix; we're going to dinner."

  Gina leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "Have a good time. And don't worry about those memos; there's probably a simple explanation somewhere. And I'll do a little quiet scouting before I leave, okay.''"

  "Okay."

  "And I'll see you on Thanksgiving."

  "Oh. I hadn't thought about Thanksgiving. Is Mother having a lot of people.'"'

  "Well, you could ask her, of course, since you live with her, but as long as you're here, I'll tell you that she's not. Just the three of us, as usual, and Hannah."

  Emma nodded, thinking about Brix again as she walked away. I have to help him, she thought; I have to protect him.

  Unless I'm wrong. I don't really know anything about his work; he doesn't want me to. I might make him really angry if I ask him anything.

  But what if he's in trouble and doesn't know it.'' Then he'd be so grateful, and he'd love me more than ever.

  "He's with Mr. Eiger, but you can wait in his office; he'll be back any minute," Brix's secretary said, and once again Emma found herself standing next to Brix's desk, alone. There were papers on it, some of them sticking out of folders, but she looked away from them; she already had too many things to think about. If I had a drink, I could relax, she thought, and walked around his desk to the small cabinet near his chair and took out his bottle of Scotch. He won't mind, she thought; he likes me to drink. She poured a small glass and closed her eyes and gulped ir down.

  Fingers of warmth spread through her and she poured just a httle more. It would be all right to talk to him, she thought; whatever she told him, he'd understand, because he loved her. She wished she had some cocaine because that was what made her feel best of all, but she did not know where he kept it in his office, and anyway, she always felt strange doing it alone; the few times she'd done it in her bedroom she'd been scared and ashamed, and she almost never felt that way anymore when she was with Brix.

  "Fix me one, too," Brix said, coming in and closing the office door behind him. "Christ, he's loaded for bear today; I don't know what the hell's wrong with him. Everything's bad until somebody convinces him it's okay."

  "Somebody meaning you.^"

  "Well, right, he listens to me. Most of the time. Shit." He drained the glass Emma gave him and held it out to her for more. He had forgotten what had happened that afternoon, Emma thought; if he really had been embarrassed, he certainly wasn't anymore. Maybe she had imagined it. Maybe she had imagined the whole thing. Sometimes, when she was drinking and doing coke with Brix, she wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't. Brix swirled the drink in his glass. "I know he's uptight about everything going on schedule for the PK-20 release, but he's on everybody's back and it's driving people crazy. It's driving me crazy."

  This isn't the time; he's not in a good mood; dont bring it up. But I have to; what else can I do? "Brix, I have to ask you something,"

  He took the bottle from her and sat in his chair, leaning back and putting his feet on his desk, pushing aside a stack of folders. "You look cute; is that a new dress.^"

  "Yes. Brix, there were some—"

  "Come over here, you're too far away." He straightened up in his chair. "I don't like it when I can't feel you."

  Emma sighed. His lap was her favorite place in the world to sit, but she had to talk to him. She sat on his strong thighs, her back straight, but he pulled her against him and ran his hand up her leg, beneath her dress. "That's better. You know, I may keep you right here; it would make this place a lot more interesting. Would you do that.^ Sit here all day and keep me feeling good while I get all my fucking work done.-^ Well, what the hell," he said when Emma was silent. "Nice idea, but the lady isn't inter-

  ested. So where do you want to go for dinner? I thought the Silvermine; you haven't been there."

  "Wherever you want. Brix, one time when I was waiting for you in here, there were some memos on your desk and I . . . read them."

  He shook his head. "Jesus, Emma, how many times have I told you to keep your pretrv' nose out of business.^ So what did you think.'' Did you understand the formulas.^ Or were they marketing pians.-^ Then you probably read about yourself, our dynamite little Eiger Girl. My dynamite little Eiger Girl." His hand moved between her legs, sliding on her nylon hose, higher and higher, pressing into her.

  Already flushed from the drink, Emma felt herself grow hot and limp. She struggled against it. "No, Brix, listen, this is important. They were about some problems with PK-20, the eye cream, an ingredient in it that caused conjunctivitis and some other thing, some Latin words, and . . . and somebody who went blind in one eye . . ."

  Brix's hand had stopped moving. "You didn't tell me."

  "No, I thought—I wasn't sure—"

  "Those were confidential; what the hell were you doing reading confidential memos on my desk.-^" He took his hand from under her skirt and sat back. Emma, perched on his thighs without support, suddenly felt ridiculous. She stood up and walked to the chairs on the other side of the desk. With that expanse between them, Brix reminded her of his father.

  "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to read them, I mean, I just happened to see them and when I saw they were about PK-20—"

  "You 'just happened' to see them.'' Bullshit. You were spying."

  "I wasn't! Brix, why would I.''"

  "Who've you talked to about this.'*"

  "What.?"

  "Talked to, Emma, talked to. Girls can't keep things to themselves; they like to be little messengers, running around telling everybody what they see, being important." He stood and leaned over the desk, resting on his hands, thrusting his face toward her. "Who've you talked to about those memos.'"

  "Nobody." Emma blurted out the word before she had time to think. She stared at Brix's furious face and thought he might

  strike her; for the first time, she admitted to herself that she was afraid of him.

  "You're lying."

  "I'm not, Brix; really, it's true." She was trapped, now, in her lie; she stared wide-eyed and fearful at the dark rage in his face and knew she could never retract what she had said. She could not tell him she had lied, and she could never tell him about Gina. "I didn't run around, I didn't think I was a messenger, I just—" Suddenly, through the fog of alcohol and fear, it struck Emma that they were talking about the wrong thing. The question wasn't whether she had told anyone, it was whether those memos were . . . "They weren't right, were they.'"' she asked abruptly. Brix was scowling, deep in thought, and she spoke more loudly. "It's not really dangerous, is it, Brix.^ PK-20.? I didn't see how it could be, but—"

  "Keep your voice down! Of course it's not dangerous, for Christ's sake, are you out of your mind.'"' He walked around the desk to stand over her. "You little fool, sneaking around here . . . I got you this job; you're only here because of
me, and I could get rid of you just as fast."

  "Brix, you wouldn't! I didn't do anything, I was just waiting for you and I—"

  "Why were you in here.'' You could wait in the reception room like evervbody else; who the hell do you think you are, waltzing in here anytime you want.^"

  "But I'm not 'everybody else,' Brix; we're together!" She was looking almost straight up at him, and from that angle he seemed huge and menacing, as if he could bend down and crush her and she would disappear forever. "Brix, could we just forget this.'' I wouldn't have said anything, but I was—"

  "No, we can't forget it; what the fuck do you think I am.'' I find somebody sneaking around the company, reading confidential memos, and you want me to forget it.^ I'm not sure I want you working here anymore; I don't think it's good for the company to have you wandering around, spying on us, and I sure as hell don't want a girlfriend who's sneaky and disloyal—"

  "Brix, please, please don't." Emma tried to take a breath, but it caught in her throat and she began to cough and cry at the same time. "Don't make me leave, please let me stay, I'll do whatever you want, Brix, please ..."

  "How do I know you'll do whatever I want? Jesus, I can't trust you for a minute. I thought you loved me, but then you come spying on me—"

  "I wasn't! I do! I do love you, Brix, you know I do, I love you and I'd do anything for you."

  "Sure, like fuck me up with my father."

  "I didn't! I don't know what you're talking about." Crying wildly, Emma slid off the chair and crouched beside his feet. "Brix, don't send me away, please say I can stay, please, please, please ..."

  "For Christ's sake, Emma, shut up, they can hear you all the way to New York." He looked down at her crumpled form, her face hidden, her red-gold hair spread on his carpet. He felt a moment of wild exhilaration at her abject surrender, but it was gone as quickly as it came: he had his own fears to deal with. "Get the hell off the floor," he said harshly. He gripped her arm and pulled her up until she was in the chair again. "Shit," he muttered, and sat on the edge of his desk, his foot swinging in an arc.