Star (1989)

by Steel, Danielle

  She grew thinner day by day, and whenever he saw her he thought her eyes looked larger. She seemed stunned by all that had happened, and on Christmas Day it broke his heart to leave her in jail, to share her slice of pressed turkey with the other inmates. They hadn't dared say anything to each other yet about how they felt. But he held her hand before he left, and they both spoke volumes with their eyes. They didn't need the words, they never had. They were at one with each other.

  The trial had been set for January ninth, after very few continuances. He was certainly not suggesting any delays. He wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible for her. And the tack they had decided to take was self-defense. It was the only hope she had, and he was going to get as many women as possible on the jury.

  He called Elizabeth in Palm Beach on Christmas Eve, and she refused to talk to him. Priscilla Barclay was cool, and she said rather primly that she'd read about him in the papers. But it was useless to try to explain it. Even more so when he called his parents on Christmas morning.

  What the hell are you doing? Judge Hill was blunt. You're not a criminal attorney. You'll lose the case for that girl. But it was precisely what he was afraid of.

  I couldn't get anyone decent to take it on such short notice.

  That's hardly a reason to play games.

  I'm not, Dad. And I'm doing my best.

  Elizabeth can't be pleased.

  She isn't.

  I just don't understand it. His father shook his head in dismay as Spencer wished them a Merry Christmas. And more than once, he had wondered if this was the girl Spencer had mentioned when he came back from Korea. It was only a hunch, but something told him it was, and if that was the case, there was going to be trouble with the Barclays. He wondered if Spencer knew what he was doing. But once or twice, Spencer called him and he gave him what advice he could, off the record. He thought self-defense was the only hope they had, and even that was a slim one.

  The jury selection took ten days, but in the end, Spencer got what he wanted. There were seven women and five men, all of whom would cringe at the stories of how Salvatore had abused her. And Spencer even went out and shopped for the clothes she would wear in the courtroom so she would look as she had years before when he met her, innocent and pure. She didn't have to pretend to look frightened, she was terrified as she sat beside him at the defense table. The prosecution's case was direct and blunt and brutal. They painted a picture of a girl who had come to Hollywood to do anything she could to get ahead, including sleeping with a man twice her age, who obviously had less than gentlemanly connections. They didn't try to hide what he was, instead they tried to use it. And the district attorney did it well. He pointed at Crystal across the courtroom. He made her look like a whore, collecting expensive clothes, a greedy life-style, furs, and diamond bracelets. She had done well living with the victim, they pointed out. And so had her career. Thanks to the man she'd murdered in cold blood, she was a minor star, and they listed all the pictures he'd gotten her into, making it sound as though she did nothing to deserve it. They painted a history of violence, a family feud that had left her brother dead and driven her from her home at seventeen, a job in a sleazy nightclub in San Francisco for several years, and then coming to Los Angeles to ensnare anyone she could to help her get ahead. And when he no longer served her purpose, wanting to be free of her contract with him, she killed him.

  But Spencer had prepared well, and he hadn't spared a dime in bringing people in to help defend her. Pearl talked of her innocence, her hard work, her good morals. Harry depicted her not like a singer in a sleazy bar, but as a sweet young angel. And Crystal cried as they testified, looking at them gratefully across the courtroom. And the investigator Spencer had hired had unearthed every headwaiter, every maid, every dresser in Hollywood, who had seen Crystal take abuse from Salvatore. There were implications of rape at the house in Malibu, a contract she had never understood, there were beatings and insults and abuse of almost every kind, and Spencer had even talked of her being raped as a child as she stared miserably down at her hands, remembering the scene in the barn with Tom Parker. She was a girl who had been broken again and again, and yet had always survived it, a girl who worked hard, who did well, who never hurt anyone, until Ernie tried to rape her again, until he beat her, and threatened her, and in self-defense she had killed him. There was no point saying that she didn't. He knew he would have lost the case if he tried, so he painted a monster for them instead. A monster who had tried to destroy this girl, with no family, no friends, no one in the world to defend her. And what he said made them hate Ernie for what he had done to her. She took the stand on her own behalf on the last day, and she looked so young and so innocent and so frightened in the plain gray dress she wore, that all of the jurors watched her raptly, and when Spencer finally rested his case, he prayed that he had won them over.

  It was a case that almost broke their hearts, but still they deliberated for two days, looking over the evidence, arguing with each other. There were two men who still thought she was guilty of murder one, and as Spencer paced the halls with Crystal waiting for the verdict, he hardly dared to look at her. If he had lost the case, her life was over. It was an agony just being there with her. She seldom spoke, she only looked at him with her huge blue eyes, and when the bailiff called them all inside, her knees were shaking so badly she could hardly walk beside Spencer. The judge told her to stand up, and then he turned to the foreman and asked for the verdict. Crystal closed her eyes and waited. She couldn't even think as she listened. She had been accused of murder in the first degree, and there was no alternative, she was either innocent or guilty. Had she planned it? Had she meant to? Did she know what she was doing when she shot him in cold blood? Or had he threatened her, had she been fighting for her life, had he finally made her snap? If he had, she was innocent, although for the rest of time, the world would believe that she had killed him. She had shrunk at the prospect of that, and insisted to Spencer for weeks that she hadn't killed him, she hadn't even been there when he was shot. But Spencer knew he couldn't touch that. All he could do was create a case that painted her and not Ernie as the victim.

  How do you find the defendant, Mr. Foreman? Guilty or innocent of murder in the first degree? It was as simple as that in the end, and there was an endless pause as they waited.

  The foreman cleared his throat and glanced at her as Spencer tried to read his face. Was he pleased with himself? Or was the jury sorry for what they were about to do? There was no telling. Innocent, Your Honor. He glanced at Crystal again with a shy smile as the Superior Court judge rapped his gavel, and Crystal fell back into Spencer's arms. She had almost fainted. It was a clear case of self-defense, they said. She was free. No matter that for the rest of her life she would carry the stigma of murder. She was free to live her life, and without thinking, Spencer put his arms around her and held her. He hadn't dared to touch her in two months, and now he held her as she cried and the courtroom went wild around them. Reporters were let in and there were flashbulbs everywhere, as court was adjourned and Spencer hurried her from the building. He had a car and driver outside, and they had to force their way through the crowd. It had been a sensational case, and whoever had actually done it was off the hook forever. Crystal had taken the rap, but she was free. Spencer had done it.

  She was still crying in disbelief as they drove away from the courtroom. She had left her few belongings in jail. She never wanted to see them again. She never wanted to see Hollywood or the things Ernie had given her. She just wanted to go away, and stopping at his hotel for a few minutes, Spencer packed his bag, and an hour later they were in a rented car on their way to San Francisco.

  I can't believe it, she whispered as he sped north. I'm free. The world had never looked so sweet to her. And on a February afternoon with Spencer at her side, two years after she had come to Hollywood, she left it.

  They were twenty miles out of town, when Spencer stopped the car, and pulled over to the side of
the freeway. He just sat and looked at Crystal and suddenly she smiled. It was all over, the nightmare had ended and he'd saved her life, and he grinned and pulled her into his arms with such strength that it took her breath away for a moment.

  My God, Crystal, we did it.

  She was laughing and crying all at the same time and she pulled away to look at him and then dived back into his arms again, knowing that she never again wanted to leave them.

  You did it. I just sat there being scared out of my mind.

  So was I, he admitted in a whisper as he held her, and then he sat back against the seat and looked at her as he hadn't dared since he'd come to California. But there was no one watching them now. They were finally alone. And he had been watching the mirror ever since they'd left his hotel to be sure that they weren't being followed by reporters. I've never been so scared in my life. He didn't even want to think about what would have happened if she had been found guilty. But she hadn't. And it was over now. They both needed to catch their breath, and he wanted to spend some time with her and sort their lives out. And then suddenly he laughed. They had been in such a hurry to leave town that he didn't even know where they were going. Where do you want to go? Instinctively, he had headed toward San Francisco.

  I don't know. She was still in shock, as she looked at him. Four hours before, her life had still been in danger, and now they had their lives ahead of them. She lifted her face to the winter sun in the simple dress he had bought her. I just want to sit here and breathe for a minute. I never thought I'd be out here again. He didn't tell her that there were times when he didn't either. He had called his father from the hotel, to tell him he'd won the case, and his father had congratulated him and was looking forward to reading about it in the papers. He had asked Spencer when he was coming back, and he had said he didn't know yet. They both needed time to catch their breath, and it was nice being out of reach of police and reporters. They had driven him crazy throughout the trial, and as she sat back against the seat he asked her if she'd miss it.

  Hollywood? She thought about it for a while, and then shook her head. Not really. The work ' the singing ' the acting I did. I liked that a lot. But the rest is very empty. And she had paid such a high price for it. She had almost paid with her life, thanks to Ernie. Even in death, he had almost killed her. I can never go back anyway.

  Why not? You can one day, if you want. But he would have understood if she didn't.

  No, I can't. The morals clause won't let them hire a murderess for a movie. She laughed but it was an empty sound as he started the car again and she glanced out the window. The world had never looked so sweet, and what she noticed most about it were the colors. Everything was so green and so blue and so beautiful, as she looked at Spencer. I owe you my life. But I guess you know that. She touched his hand and moved close to him on the seat, looking suddenly young again. The strain was gone, she had let her hair down, and only her eyes told a tale of utter terror. And then, as he gently touched her cheek, he leaned over and kissed her.

  I love you so much. I would have died if anything had happened to you. She clung to him like a lost child, and he put an arm around her and pulled her closer.

  I don't know what I would have done if ' But she couldn't even finish the sentence as he watched the road and held her.

  Don't think of it anymore, Crystal. It's all over. And as they rode toward San Francisco, they talked about where she was going. She hadn't figured that out yet. All she had wanted was to get as far away from Los Angeles as fast as she could. She wanted to stop and see Harry and Pearl, and be with Spencer. They had a lot to talk about, especially now that he knew that she had ended it the year before because of Ernie's threats and not because she didn't love him.

  They arrived in San Francisco at ten o'clock at night and they went straight to Harry's. But he'd heard it on the news already. They hugged and they cried, and he bought them drinks, and after that Spencer took her to the Fairmont. He booked two rooms, in case someone called the press. They were adjoining and he was pleased to see that. She stood in the doorway and looked at him then, and she felt as though her knees were going to buckle beneath her. He swept her up in his arms and laid her down on the bed. And he held her for hours, rediscovering all that they had both remembered. And when at last she slept, he turned off the light, and she didn't wake before morning. He was waiting for her when she woke up, he had coffee waiting for her, and croissants, and he smiled as she stretched and then slipped back into bed beside her.

  Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Feeling better?

  He had already called his office, and had a long talk with his boss. What he said didn't come as a surprise, and Spencer wasn't sorry. He felt that the sensation Spencer had caused in the last two months was incompatible with a government job, and that Spencer had become an embarrassment to them. They hoped he would understand, and they were particularly sorry if it was going to upset Justice Barclay. But Spencer had felt a wave of relief wash over him when they told him. He didn't say anything to Crystal about it. He knew she'd be upset for him. And the only other message he had had was a mysterious one from the junior senator from California. And the odd thing was that Spencer didn't even know him.

  They lay in bed and talked about the trial again, and over breakfast, he showed her the papers. It was the head story in all the newspapers that day, and Crystal was afraid she'd be recognized if she went out. It's a hell of way to get famous. She smiled at him as they shared the croissants and delicious coffee, and he made a suggestion that made her grow pensive. He wanted to drive up to the valley to see Boyd and Hiroko. But Crystal didn't want to go. She knew it would be too painful for her.

  I don't want to see the ranch again. She knew she couldn't have borne it. She was sure Becky was long gone, and Tom, but she thought her mother was still there. And there were too many unhappy memories there for her. But with Spencer next to her, she admitted that it might be different. What about you? She looked at him worriedly. Don't you have to go home? She knew he hadn't called Elizabeth since they'd gotten to San Francisco. He didn't know what to say. They hadn't spoken to each other in weeks. He had wanted to face that after the trial was over. And now he didn't want to leave Crystal.

  I'm in no hurry. He still hadn't told her he had lost his job. But it was a small price to pay for saving Crystal. They walked along the wharf that afternoon, and she bought a few clothes. She had none of the money she'd earned in L.A. Ernie had absorbed it all, and she had left all her things at the house in Beverly Hills. She didn't want to have them, or own them, or sell them. But she'd have to get a job soon. She couldn't let Spencer support her forever. She was back to where she'd started long before, without a home, or a dime. She'd had more when she'd arrived at Mrs. Castagna's. But she'd had her dream of Hollywood and for a while she had enjoyed it, and at least for now she had Spencer. For a moment, or a day. She knew he'd have to go back to Washington. But she was grateful for every moment they could be together in the meantime. During the trial, they had talked of nothing else. And under the watchful eye of the guards, and with photographers lurking everywhere, he hadn't dared to touch her. But now they had days ahead of them where they could luxuriate in each other.

  They went back to the hotel late that afternoon, and after she saw people staring at her in the lobby, she said she wanted to eat dinner in their rooms. Too many people knew who she was now, and most of them for the wrong reasons. They had talked about a lot of things that day, about Washington, his job and his life there. About how much he had come to enjoy politics and the world of government and he admitted to her it surprised him. She talked about the people she'd met in Hollywood, the stars, the hard work. And she said that in spite of Ernie, she had liked it. I think I would have been good at it one day, she said quietly after he'd ordered dinner for them, and they were sitting cuddled up together in the bathrobes they'd bought that day at I. Magnin. There was a coziness that they shared and a closeness that had survived everything that had come betwee
n them.

  You already were good at it before you went there. He still remembered her voice and the way she sang at Harry's. Maybe when things die down, you can go back someday.

  I don't think I'd want to. Her voice was soft and her eyes sad. It's a rough world down there. But if not Hollywood, then what? There was nothing else she could do, except sing and act. And she was afraid to show her face now. Everyone would know her. Harry had offered her her old job back that day when she stopped by, but she didn't want it.

  People won't remember the trial forever. It'll fade like yesterday's news, and then he remembered the call from the senator and wondered what he had wanted.

  Their dinner came on silver trays, and Spencer watched as she picked at her food. He gently touched her hand and asked her what she was thinking.

  She smiled at him, her eyes bright with tears, and then she laughed. I was just thinking that I'd like to go home. But I don't have one. He laughed too. It was true. She had no place to go, and no one to go home to. Pearl had offered her a room, but Crystal didn't want to impose, and she wasn't sure if she was going to stay in San Francisco. A lot of her plans were going to depend on Spencer.

  Let's go up to the valley for a few days. We don't have to stay. We can stop and see Boyd and Hiroko and then go somewhere else. You need time to think. It's only been two days, Crystal. Let's go up there tomorrow.

  She hesitated for a long time, looking at him, and then she nodded. What about you? You can't hang around, taking care of me forever.

  He whispered the words softly to her in the dimly lit room. I'd like to.

  You have a life in Washington, Spencer, don't you? What's left of it after I dragged you away for three months. I suppose there will be hell to pay. She was thinking of Elizabeth, and she didn't quite understand their arrangement. She wasn't sure of where things stood with them. He never mentioned her, or very seldom. And yet she knew that he was still married. Ernie was gone now, she was free, but Spencer wasn't. The specter of his wife still hung between them, or at least in Crystal's mind it did. Spencer had called her once, and left a message with the maid that he was in San Francisco, but he didn't say that he was at the Fairmont. He wasn't ready to talk to her yet. He just didn't want her to panic if she called the hotel he'd been staying at in L. A. and discovered he'd checked out the day of the verdict. He knew exactly what she'd think, and he didn't want to have to admit or deny it. The way things stood between them now, it was none of her business. He remembered her threat before he left, and wondered if now she would finally agree to divorce him.