"My heart bleeds."
"Go away. Go back to the life you’ve made for yourself. If you need some cash to get home, let me know. But just…go away."
"I’ll be in touch. I won’t be going home just yet. I’ll find out the truth."
"Be my guest."
He fished the possum out of the pool. He now dreaded calling Jessica, dreaded her questioning him again about coming home. But he was more certain than ever; he’d be crazy to bring her home now.
When the first week of February had passed and he had not heard another word from Charlene, Mac felt that he’d seen the last of her, at least this time around. Jessica had been gone a month. He had made three trips to Utah to visit her and Devon, and despite his daughter’s protestations, had taken Megan back to her mother.
The incident with the spotlight had been the last violence directed at him; the phone hang ups were sporadic. Dane remained distant, although his professional talent seemed to be at a high as he went about directing The Senator. Time and again he demanded retakes; his perfectionism seemed obsessive to Mac, who tirelessly complied with every change, every suggestion and nuance Dane could come up with.
"I don’t get it," Dane commented one night as they walked to the parking lot.
"What?"
"You haven’t tried to punch me out once. I’ve been a real asshole."
"You’re always an asshole. I’ve just gotten used to it."
Tonight Mac was giving Dane a lift home, and the two tiredly climbed into the old truck.
They sat in the dark, silently enjoying the momentary solitude of the day’s end, then Mac pushed the key into the ignition.
"Mac, why in hell do you still drive this old piece of shit?"
"You wouldn’t understand," Mac replied, turning the key carefully to the exact spot where he knew the temperamental ignition would spark.
"You’re doing an ass-kicking job."
Mac paused, gear shift lever in hand, and stared at Dane. "But?"
"But nothing. That’s all, you’re playing it exactly the way I thought you would. Perfect. And I hope you’re paying attention to what I’m doing."
"Why should I? You’re doing a tremendous job, too."
"Just…in case. I may need some help toward the end."
"And what’s that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Just thought you might like to learn a little about directing."
Mac dropped Dane off half an hour later, and wearily drove back toward Laurel Canyon.
~ * ~
"I made you a drink. How’d it go today?"
Dane glanced at Jackie and picked up the drink.
"Okay. Where’s my son?"
"Uh…he’s at a friend’s. For dinner, I think."
"You think? What friend? Where?"
"A little boy named Calvin, I think."
"What’s with this ‘I think’ crap? Either you know where he is or you don’t. And if you don’t, you’d better find out. That kid doesn’t go anywhere without my permission. You’re not his mother, Jackie, and don’t forget it."
"He said you knew the boy. He said--"
"He’s seven years old. What he says doesn’t quite count, yet. Get on the horn and find him, then get him home."
"You’ll embarrass him if you drag him home during dinner."
"Just…find out where he is."
They dined alone, in silence. Dane reflected on how greatly his life had changed since the day he’d left for Singapore seven months before. Not long after his release from the hospital at Thanksgiving, Jackie had moved in without much discussion; Peter had grown tired of the tension and had moved out in early January.
"So I understand Jessie’s coming home this weekend."
Her words struck him like a brick. "How do you know?" he demanded.
"I spoke with Mac last night. He’s flying her home on Saturday."
Dane stared long and hard at Jackie. Saying nothing he turned back to his meal.
"I bought my dress today."
"Wonderful. What color? Red?"
"White, of course. She wore white, you know."
"I wouldn’t know."
"I think April tenth would be nice."
"Whatever."
"You could show some enthusiasm."
"Oh, could I? The only thing that enthuses me is leaving here every morning. There is one reason, and only one stinking reason why this marriage is taking place. And so help me, if you step out of line, even one fucking inch, the deal is off. I’d rather rot in hell."
He stood up, angry eyes flashing momentarily in hostility as he strode from the room.
"I’m going after Alex," he called before treading heavily out the door, slamming it in his wake.
~ * ~
Jessica leaped into his arms when he opened them to her, slamming her body against his and wrapping her legs around him as he spun her around. The din of her screaming giggles suddenly subsided as Mac covered her mouth with his, devouring her kiss with his own.
"God I thought you’d never get here!" she panted, kissing him again and again as he collapsed, still holding her, onto the deep leather couch in the great room of the lodge.
"Traffic was horrible. Planes are stacked up back to Vegas." He pulled away from her, allowing his eyes to take in the length of her. "I can’t believe how good you look. I guess you’re ready to come home?"
Behind her, Christine stood by with a pout. "I’ve gotten used to her being here. I don’t want her to go!"
They dined out with Christine and Nick, leaving the babies with a sitter. Afterward, back in their suite for the night, Mac stretched out on the bed while Jessie got Devon changed and into his crib.
"Nick said it was a nice change to be waited on for once."
"They work so hard, Mac. But they’re so happy here. Their problems are different. They worry about the customers having a good time, the weather, the local politics…"
"It’s all relative. They probably see our lifestyle as glamorous."
"There’s nothing glamorous about someone breaking into your garage and destroying your property."
With Devon settled and hopefully down for the night, Jessica joined Mac on the bed and invited his attention. He rolled on top of her, moving her through an amorous foreplay she had all but forgotten existed.
"Maybe we should just move in here," he whispered, delighting her ear with his lips.
"This is our third time here, huh?" she cooed back, remembering their first night of wild lovemaking. The night Devon was conceived.
"Mac?" she started suddenly. "I’m…not…protected…"
"I am," he said softly. "I didn’t forget. We’re not quite ready for another child right now."
Her sigh was her answer as she let herself drift into the delicious euphoria of his love. It was almost all new again; the tender way he caressed her body, playing her like a delicate instrument, gently urging her hips forward as he bore down upon her. And nothing had ever felt so right; no one fit Jessica like Mac, no one could bring to her the kind of sensuality, the immense pleasure he brought with each graceful movement of his being.
The sweet sensation of their union was marred only by the slightest discomfort, and this she kept well hidden from him; he deserved her greatest devotion, now more than ever. Desperately he grasped her to him as the wave broke and washed over them in a long, rapturous moment of ecstasy.
She remembered almost nothing from that moment until they landed the Cessna at Van Nuys late the next afternoon. The Los Angeles weather seemed almost tropical compared with the sub-freezing air they had left behind in Salt Lake City.
With Devon wailing loudly in the backseat of Reva’s Honda, they drove home without speaking, holding hands all the way. Once there, Jessica fed Devon and chatted briefly with Roxie on the telephone, now at home in Malibu with Tom. She promised to bring Devon for a visit during the next few days.
Mac sat quietly that evening reading his script beside a single lamp in the family room. Jessica felt
good to be home, and roamed around the big house reacquainting herself with it once again.
He was gone early the next morning, leaving her a nostalgic note on the small corkboard in the kitchen.
Jess - Truck’s dead. Took the "M". I’m at
Paramount all day, if you need me.--Love, Mac
Jessica smiled at the memory of their past note-leaving, and took comfort in returning to a routine. Maybe everything was finally going to be okay.
~ * ~
March brought winds, and commitments. Mac’s first feature, The Night Horse, was getting ready to premiere, and every magazine and talk-show host in town was after an interview; The Senator had less than a month of shooting to go, but Mac’s time was at a premium and Jessica felt lucky to see him briefly at breakfast. Afraid of her own shadow the first week after returning from Utah, she had finally settled into a comfort zone. No new acts of terrorism had arisen, no further calls or suspicious activity had occurred.
With Devon now over two months old, Jessica had developed a routine for his care that included a daily walk followed by his bath and nap at midday; while he slept she completed chores and read through the scripts Teddy had been collecting for her. It was during just one such afternoon that Mac’s sister paid her an unexpected visit.
Thinking the knock was the mailman with a package, she threw the heavy front door open casually, only to bring herself up sharp at the sight of Charlene MacKendall striking a pose that belonged solely to that genre of women who could be called "tough." A cigarette clenched at its very edge by her reddened lips, her eyes squinting slightly behind the smoke it emitted.
"Charlene…hello."
"Jessica. May I come in?"
"Of course."
She moved aside as Charlene threw the butt into the shrubs and showed herself to the kitchen. Glancing hastily around, she turned back to Jessica with a sort of non-expression reserved for those subjects she found most boring.
"Kid asleep?"
"Yes. Is there something I can do for you?"
"Yeah. You can give me the keys to the Honda."
"Reva’s Honda? I really can’t do that, Charlene."
"Oh but you can, Jess. It’s mine. Your dear, sweet husband, my illustrious brother, he gave it to me, and I’m here to collect it."
"Mac didn’t say you were coming by. I need the car to take Devon to the doctor later. I don’t have any other vehicle I can use. Perhaps tomorrow?"
"Perhaps tomorrow my ass, sweetheart. Get the keys. And hurry."
"No. Maybe you should come back later. I’ll check with Mac. If he wants you to have the car, I’m sure--"
Charlene approached Jessica, leaning close to her face.
"You might as well give me the keys. It would sure be awful if Mom’s car ended up like your last two." Her tone was lethal as she conveyed her threat.
As Charlene’s implication sank in, Jessica began to tremble. Slowly she went to her purse on the counter and withdrew her key ring, wrestling the Honda key off and dropping it into Charlene’s outstretched palm. Snapping her hand closed on the key, she strode briskly toward the front door, turning to call over her shoulder.
"Tell my dear brother I said hello. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other…soon. Thanks, Jessie." Her mocking words stung Jessica in the heart.
Paralyzed, she watched as Charlene got into the Honda and drove it away. Numbly she wondered if she had left any items in the car that she would need. Finally snapping into action, she hurried to the phone and dialed the number of the studio where Mac was working.
~ * ~
Dane watched Mac closely as he put down the phone and returned to the set. He’d seen Mac upset many times, but had rarely seen the ashen look he now wore, the defeated slump of his shoulders and look of total dismay in his eyes.
"Ten minutes!" he called to the crew, and crossed the sound stage to meet Mac halfway.
Mac’s eyes seemed blind to the activity going on around him.
"Mac?"
"I have to go home."
"What’s happened? Another attack of some kind?" Dane’s own eyes now brightened in fear as he awaited Mac’s response. "Jessie’s okay, right?"
"Jessie’s okay. Charlene was there. She took the Honda! She apparently admitted to trashing the other cars. I’ve gotta get home. She’s really upset."
"I’ll come with you."
Dane delegated the balance of the day’s work to his assistant director and hopped into the Miata beside Mac.
"Damned car was built for midgets," he complained, pushing the passenger seat back to the limit.
Mac flashed him a brief, preoccupied grin and burned rubber getting out of the parking lot.
~ * ~
The Miata’s tires skidded a little as Mac applied the break on the gravel driveway. In the MacKendall kitchen, Jessie had made a fresh pot of coffee and was singing nursery rhymes to Devon where he sat watching from his infant seat on the table as Mac and Dane bounded in through the front door. Mac rushed to embrace her, Dane hanging back self-consciously and shoving his hands into his hip pockets.
"Tell me exactly what she said."
"She said something about not wanting it to happen again, what happened to the other two cars. I can’t repeat it exactly." Her resolve faded fast as Mac scrutinized her eyes for more. "She said…to tell you…hello…and that you’d be seeing more of her." Unspent tears were falling onto her blouse; Devon, too, began to cry, and she pulled abruptly away from Mac to pick up the child and hush him.
Mac looked to Dane, reading his reaction to the information Jessica had imparted. Dane’s head tilted almost imperceptibly toward the front door, and Mac returned a slight nod.
"We’ll be right back, babe. Dane’s going to help me jump-start the truck, as long as he’s here. We’re going to need it for a couple of days. You…take care of the little slugger."
"I’m okay. I’m sorry I fell apart."
The two men walked together toward the garage. Mac shook his head. "I know what you’re thinking."
"You gotta do it, man. You can’t be sure she won’t do something else."
"She’s my sister."
"She’s your nemesis. What if she does something to…to hurt someone? Someone you love?"
Mac stopped walking and turned to face Dane. "I used to wonder how parents could turn in their own children for doing drugs. I knew a kid in school whose folks did that. I hated them." Mac looked away to the highest treetops separating his property from the road.
"And maybe if your folks had gotten help for her back then, this wouldn’t be happening now. And maybe if someone had gotten help for that asshole in New York, my folks would be alive. Ever think of that? Ever think that maybe she’s asking for help? She did all that shit. She has to be stopped."
"How can you be sure? How could she have dropped that light?"
"I don’t know. She had a dude with her, remember? Maybe she has some help. Call that cop, Denehy. You’ve got to stop this nightmare." Dane turned his back. "For Jessie."
~ * ~
The Honda was easy to find, parked on the street in a low rent district of North Hollywood ten minutes away. Charlene was booked and jailed within hours, and the nightmare was over. With the list of "priors" faxed to LAPD by St. Paul police, Charlene didn’t bear much credibility with her elaborate denial of the crimes of which she was accused. She admitted only to muscling the Honda away from Jessica, and to being born into the wrong family. Bail was set but no bond was posted.
Mac felt despondent for the next several days. It seemed inconceivable that he had turned his own sister in to the police; that Charlene had tried to kill him and then had denied it.
"You okay to go back to work?" Jessica asked softly later that week as she watched him put on his jacket.
"I’m okay. I’ve worked under stress before. I was a freakin’ mess in New Zealand, and everyone kept saying, ‘you’re great, Mac.’ I guess being happy and normal is a handicap. You…take care. I’ll call y
ou later." He gave her a brief kiss. "Love you."
"Love you."
He was working through his remorse, coming to terms with the impact of his sister’s deeds. The film took him away from it, if temporarily, and by midday he was back on course. Dane, however, seemed worse than ever. Pale, unshaven and almost gaunt, he was jumpy and irritable, and Mac sensed it had little to do with the film, or even with the events surrounding Charlene’s arrest. But Dane also seemed unapproachable, and Mac held his distance as the week wore on and eventually closed on Friday afternoon. Dane called it a day at one o’clock and left the studio in haste; Mac was relieved and went home.
Twenty-two
War…
Dane skidded the gold Porsche to a stop inside the garage, bumping the nose just enough to jerk his neck slightly. Rushing into the house, he seemed driven by anger as he searched for Jackie, calling her name loudly, striding briskly from room to room.
"She’s not here." A small voice answered from down the hall. Dane entered Alexander’s bedroom to find the young boy lying on the floor, a video game controller in his hand. His eyes were fixed on the television screen before him.
"Where is she, bud?"
"Doctor, she said. I’m sposta stay in here ‘til she gets back. Is Jackie sick or somethin’?"
"Yeah…she’s a little sick." Dane closed the door and sauntered back to the living room, where he poured himself a glass of tequila and waited.
She came in half an hour later, her face still colored deeply from the sight of Dane’s car in the garage.
He eyed her silently, swirling his drink casually before speaking. "You left him alone."
"Just a few minutes…"
"A few minutes is enough for serious shit to happen. What the hell’s wrong with you?"
"Don’t yell at me. I’ve had a traumatic day."
"Traumatic? I’d like to show you traumatic someday."
"Okay, cool it, Dane. I’ve still got the journal, you know. And I’ll have it until the seal is on the marriage certificate. You wouldn’t want it to turn up at the wrong place…at the wrong time, would you?"
Dane stared at her in open hatred. She walked casually away from him, examining her fingernails in a nonchalant fashion.
"I guess now that Mac’s sister is locked up, you think I can’t use the journal as evidence? You think it won’t matter that you’ve been writing about your madness, your sickening obsession for Jessica MacKendall for over a year? I just wonder what she’d say if she could read it for herself, especially the part about how you wished Mac was dead."
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