Movie Lovers

by Joachim Jean

  “You shouldn’t have done that. That picture was a good opportunity for you.”

  “Grant’s thrilled. Means I’m staying in the show longer, will be in New York.”

  “It’s your career. I don’t want to interfere…”

  “You’re not. It was my decision.”

  “I’ll be at the house for a while. Is that okay?”

  “Of course! It’s your home, too. You won’t be my secretary anymore?”

  Grace patted her sister’s arm. “I’m not leaving you in the lurch. I’ll still take care of the house, your finances, and stuff. Maybe you need to look for someone here to help you out.”

  “You won’t be here to help me plan my wedding!” A look of panic crossed Cara’s face. “Will you be here when I get married?”

  “Of course! I wouldn’t miss that! I’m hoping to be a bridesmaid. I’ll help you plan as much as I can from L.A.”

  “A bridesmaid, yes. Maid of Honor. I’m having it at Limoges…”

  “I can work with Jean Marc over the phone.”

  “Thank you, Pookie.” Cara hugged her sister. A few tears broke through Cara’s defenses. Grace wiped them with her thumb.

  “I love you, Cara. You’re the best. Thank you for everything.”

  “Good luck, Pook. I’m here if you need me.”

  The women hugged again, and Carol Anne let out a brief sob. When she recovered, they left the kitchen, strolling arm-in-arm.

  “Are you ready?” Jake stood up. Grace nodded. Grant stepped forward to hug Grace and wish her good luck. Jake kissed Cara’s cheek and shook hands with Grant. With Jake toting the suitcases, the young lovers returned to his apartment and a new beginning.

  * * * *

  At first, Grace tiptoed around the place, afraid to put something in the wrong spot or to leave her things lying around. Scared if she did something wrong, Jake would ask her to leave. But every night he slung his arm around her as they walked home, planning their late night meal, he was full of smiles and laughter. In fact, Grace had never seen him more cheerful.

  Her grins never stopped. Small day-to-day annoyances didn’t bother her. She’d even forgotten about Gunther Quill. This is the life I’m meant to lead.

  After two weeks, she moved around the apartment as if she belonged there. She learned the kitchen quickly and made some changes to suit her style. She did most of the cooking, though Jake made a mean French toast on his day off. He did the dishes, vacuumed, and changed the sheets. Grace cleaned the bathroom.

  During the day, she worked on a new screenplay while he was at singing lessons and dance classes. “I need to be ready for anything. A great musical might come my way.” Jake’s new determination to master all aspects of his craft impressed her.

  After Grace’s glowing review, he got a call from Skip, now his agent too, that a few producers and directors had inquired about him. Jake received a few scripts from Skip, which he shared with Grace. They read them together, snuggled up on the sofa like two puppies, and then compared notes.

  The iciness of winter began to melt in April as white snow drops and lavender crocuses, courageous early flowers, bloomed in New York City. Grace dragged Jake to Central Park for long walks. Bright yellow daffodils were up and ready to burst. Hints of yellow dotted fenced-in fields where forsythia, a few daffs, and jonquils received enough sun to blossom.

  She led him to the spots where there were the most flowers blooming. The brilliant, new colors refreshed her spirit. They held hands and soon Jake shared her enthusiasm for exploring deeper and deeper in Central Park. It became a place where they could be alone together with nature, listening to bird songs and being in love. A place beyond the prying eyes of the press.

  He bought her a romantic lunch at The Boathouse, where they huddled together at a table by the window, sipping coffee. Grace pulled her fleece jacket around her shoulders to ward off the chill seeping through the worn seams of the old windows.

  “I love this place,” Jake said, glancing around.

  “The lake is beautiful, even when it’s still cold outside.”

  He laced his fingers with hers. “You’re beautiful, too.” Grace looked down and smiled. He’s so sweet. They sat holding hands for another half hour before they returned home.

  However, not all days were sunshine and sweetness, sometimes they argued.

  “Where’d you put the laundry soap?” A crease formed between his brows.

  “Here,” Gracie said, opening the pantry door and pointing to a container next to the laundry basket.

  “I always keep it in the lower cabinet. I spent all morning looking for it! Now it’s too late to do laundry before I have to go to the theater!”

  “Next to the laundry basket makes more sense than that cabinet.”

  “But that’s where it always was!”

  “If you don’t want me here, I’ll just…”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t want you here. I said I wanted the laundry detergent in the cabinet.”

  “Fine!” Grace shouted as she slammed the cabinet door after she replaced the detergent.

  “Don’t slam that. You might break it!” He hollered back.

  “Then close it yourself!” She walked away in a huff. This living together sucks sometimes.

  Evenings were always good. They made love almost every night. Then they curled up together cuddling and snuggling until daybreak. In the morning, she hated to leave the toasty bed and the warm body of her lover. Jake was affectionate, hugging, kissing, and touching her often. She relaxed and grew confident under the warmth of his love.

  Once the contract with Max Webster was signed, and a script doctor was hired, Grace’s Eden was about to end. The time for her to go had arrived. She hesitated telling Jake, delaying until after the show. The air was still chilly in mid-April. They were walking home hand-in-hand when she figured the time was right.

  “Max found a script doctor for my screenplay.”

  “Oh?” Jake stopped and turned toward her.

  “They want me there in a week.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  She nodded. “We knew this day would come.”

  “I suppose. Guess I’d hoped something would hold things up.”

  “Like maybe not making the movie?”

  “I’d never wish that…a delay…something. Hope against hope.” His face clouded over.

  “I hate to leave.” Grace looked away from him so he couldn’t see the glint of tears in her eyes. He hates it when women cry.

  “Do you?” He stopped, grabbing her arms, forcing her to face him. She nodded as emotion trapped her words in her throat. He tipped her chin up so she couldn’t avoid his stare. “Are you crying?”

  “I know how you hate crying women.”

  “Yeah. It tears me up. But if you wanna cry…”

  She shook her head. “I’m happy to make this dream a reality…but I hate leaving you.”

  He blew out a breath. “Truth.”

  Grace hugged him around the waist, burying her face in his jacket. Tears flowed. A muffled “I love you” stole from her mouth. Jake closed his arms around her, holding her close.

  “I love you, too, Gracie.” He rested his chin on her head.

  “Hey, buddy, get a room!” A man shot at them as he walked by.

  Jake chuckled. “Yeah. We have a room. Let’s go home,” He separated from her and took her hand.

  Home? I love the sound of that. He tossed her his handkerchief as they continued up the avenue.

  By the time they reached his building, she had dried her tears. As they climbed the stairs of the brownstone, Jake brought up the topic again. “How long will you be gone?”

  “I don’t know. We have to fix the script, then casting. I don’t know when shooting’s scheduled…maybe months.”

  “Months? Like two, four? I can handle that. As long as it isn’t years.”

  “Years? No way!” She shook her head.

  “Can you handle it, Gracie? You’ll be worki
ng with guys. Sets can be seductive.”

  “You know all about that, right?”

  Jake blushed. “Never said I was an angel.”

  “Wouldn’t have believed you if you had,” she snickered.

  “Oh?” He tackled her around the waist and threw her down underneath him on the sofa. His mouth closed down on hers, possessing her. She softened against him, molding her body to his. When he came up for air, he stared at her. She saw questions, lust, and concern in his liquid gold eyes.

  “What?”

  “How many nights before you go?” he asked.

  “Seven.”

  He ripped his T-shirt over his head. “Why are we wasting time?” Only a few minutes passed before the lovers had stripped down and were entwined in each other’s arms. Grace pushed thoughts of her departure out of her head and focused on Jake. Happiness bubbled up in her chest as passion took over.

  In her heart, appreciation for what she had warred with the greediness of wanting more. She tried to appear grateful but couldn’t deny the empty feeling in her chest when she thought of leaving Jake. The price she was paying to have her dream weighed heavily on her.

  Grace kept her spirits up, focusing on the positive as often as possible without sounding silly or unrealistic. Doubt about the survival of their relationship never left the back of her mind, though she refused to dwell on it and spoil their last few days together.

  On her last day, Grace tried to slow life down, to remember every second, every thought, every word. Bobby was driving her to the airport, and Cara, Grant and Sarah were coming to see her off. Jake stood next to her as Bobby loaded her suitcases in the limo.

  “Remember our deal,” he whispered.

  “Faithful for four months.”

  “Right. And after that?”

  “If tempted, call.” Grace drew closer to him.

  “Right. Good, baby.” He wound his arms around her.

  She raised her chin, and he captured her mouth in a greedy kiss. It wasn’t long before Bobby and Grant were making noises, so the lovers split.

  “Hey, guys, last one for a while.” Then everyone else kissed Grace, who burst into tears when Sarah started to cry.

  Bobby opened the back door. “If you don’t get in the car and go, there’ll be a flood,” he said. Grace slid inside and raised her hand to the window. Jake stood up against the car.

  “I love you, Gracie. Don’t ever forget that!”

  “I won’t.” Bobby threw the car in gear, and they moved into the avenue and picked up speed, heading uptown. Gracie remained twisted around, looking out the back window until she couldn’t see them anymore. Heaviness settled in her chest.

  “If it’s meant to be, it’ll last, Gracie.”

  “I hope you’re right.” The ache in her chest pounded harder. “Right now it hurts like hell.”

  “I get it. Peg and I were separated, too.”

  “How?”

  “I was in the service. But we made it.”

  “Were there rough times?”

  “Is the sky blue?” He chuckled. “If you love each other…”

  “We do. At least I think we do.”

  “Then it’ll survive.”

  “Why does it hurt so much?”

  “Can’t have love without pain,” Bobby said as he eased them onto the highway.

  She sat back against the leather seat and trained her unseeing gaze out the window. Memories of her last week with Jake flooded her mind. This must be what Cara and Grant had. How did they do it? Guess if they can last seven years, I can last a few months.

  When they reached the airport, Bobby put her luggage in the hands of the skycap then hugged her. “Good luck, kid. This is a tough business. Don’t let them get to you. Make yourself heard. And keep a light burning for Jake. He’s a good guy.”

  She nodded. “I’ll try, Bobby. Thanks for everything.”

  When he drove away, a wave of loneliness washed over Gracie. Now she was truly on her own. Isn’t this what I wanted? What I wished for? My chance? Can I cut it? I’ll find out. She took a deep breath and walked through the doors, heading for her gate.

  Chapter Twelve

  Grace clicked open the lock and went into the big house on Benedict Canyon Drive. Everything looks the same. But nothing is the same. I’m not the same. She smiled as she dragged her heavy suitcases into her bedroom. Cara had to load me up with new clothes for this venture. Now I can barely lift this!

  She turned up the heater on the pool then whipped out her cell to call Jake. Oops! He’s on stage! She put it away and unpacked. Then she checked the house and called the security company to tell them she was there and would be staying.

  Grace kicked off her shoes and padded into the kitchen to make a grocery list. After swishing her toes in the pool to determine if the water was warm enough, she stripped off her clothes and dove in. Swimming alone. Against Cara’s rules. I can handle it.

  Grace swam laps for twenty minutes. She climbed out, exhausted. Barely able to drag herself into the shower, she washed the chlorine off her body and fell into bed. Sleep engulfed her, driving all worries from her mind.

  The next morning, she was up early and ready to rock. Dressed in linen pants and jacket plus a bright turquoise scoop neck, silk blouse, she headed out the door. When she turned on the SUV, butterflies invaded her stomach. My first script conference! It’s really happening. She typed the address of the office in the GPS, took a deep breath, and put the car in gear.

  On the third floor of a modern low-rise office building just off Hollywood Boulevard, a pretty receptionist showed Grace into a swanky conference room. Off-white walls set off the huge mahogany table with a dozen comfortable swivel chairs hugging the edge. A nondescript, industrial rug in beige ran from wall to wall. Modern paintings with bright colors cheered up the cold room.

  She was the first to arrive, so she pulled out a hard copy of the screenplay, a pen and notebook, leaving her laptop in its case. When the door opened, Grace turned to face a young man, about twenty-six, not tall, nice looking, with brown hair and eyes.

  He extended his hand. “Hi. I’m George Carpenter. Max Webster hired me to work with you.”

  “Is he coming?”

  “He’s in New York. He doesn’t usually get involved in script work at this stage unless there’s a problem.”

  Grace shook his hand and smiled. “Have you read the script?”

  “I liked it very much. Great story, but the dialogue needs a little work.”

  “That’s all?” She raised her eyebrows.

  “Not really. We might have to shuffle a few scenes…writers don’t usually like to hear about a ton of changes on their work right away. So I like to start small.”

  Grace laughed. “Give it to me straight, George. I can take it.”

  He turned on his computer, and they put their heads together for the next three hours. Grace tried to listen with an open mind. How much do I let him change, and how much do I take a stand on keeping? George was pleasant but insistent on some changes, and Grace’s stomach did flip flops as she tried to figure out how to handle him. When do I put my foot down?

  At noon, he invited Grace to lunch. “Come on. My treat. You’ve been really good about stuff. Time for a reward. I know a great little seafood restaurant in Long Beach. Do you like seafood?”

  She climbed into his Corvette, and they drove to a cute restaurant called Fisherman’s Cove. The head waiter showed them to a secluded table in an empty room. He gave George a knowing look, palmed the twenty buck tip, and left them alone. Grace slid into the booth and was surprised when George moved in next to her.

  “Max didn’t tell me you were so…lovely,” he practically purred, as his gaze settled on her chest.

  Grace unfolded her napkin as a knot formed in her stomach. Please, God, not down this road again. She picked up a menu. “What’s good here? I’m starved.”

  “How about a drink first? They make a mean Cosmo.”

  “No alcohol when I�
�m working. Do you drink and work?”

  “Hey, this is L.A., everyone does.”

  “Not me.” She forced herself to look over the food choices. Good move, Gracie. No alcohol. She could feel heat from his thigh, pressing against hers. She tried inching away to the other side, but she was flush up against the wall. After taking a breath, she worked up her courage. “Would you mind moving to the right? I’m feeling a little crowded.”

  George lifted his eyebrows but moved a few inches away, breaking physical contact.

  “The cold shrimp salad looks divine. And a mint iced tea works for me.”

  “Mint tea? Really?”

  She nodded. The waiter approached, and George placed their order. He ordered a Cosmo and a steak for himself. The drinks arrived quickly.

  Grace silently prayed the food service would be fast.

  “Tell me about yourself, Grace. You’re Cara Brewster’s sister, right?”

  “I am. Not much to tell. This is my first screenplay.”

  “I figured,” George chuckled.

  Heat traveled into Grace’s cheeks at his comment. “I’m a hard worker, and I take direction well.”

  “That’s what Gunther said.”

  At the sound of Gunther Quill’s name, she stiffened. Why did he mention Gunther? He’s not producing this movie. Grace took a gulp of her tea to bide time while figuring out what to do. Get the facts. “Gunther Quill?” she asked.

  “Said he knows you…quite well.”

  “We’ve met.”

  George laughed, and Grace’s pulse vibrated in her neck while her stomach squeezed. Oh my God! Gunther told him! Tears pricked at the back of her eyes, but she was determined not to give in. No crying. Grow up!

  “Have you ever collaborated on a script before?” She shook her head. “Well, collaboration goes much better, smoother, and the end result is way better if the people writing together…uh…get together in a more personal way, too.”

  Shit! He’s propositioning me! Damn you, Gunther Quill! Bastard! “What?” She raised her eyebrows and feigned an innocent look.

  “You’re very beautiful, Grace. We could have a lot of fun while we work on this script, if you’ll simply…” The waiter appeared with their food, interrupting George.