by Carol Rose
“—and she wouldn’t marry a guy unless she thought she loved him—“
“Naturally.”
“—so you needn’t be so condescending.” Sitting straight up now, Holly felt herself vibrating with indignation. “And, by the way, your dad has moved in with my mother, not the other way around.”
“I just think,” he said in a pseudo-apologetic voice, “that it’s easier for women to fall in love with men who can…give them the lifestyle they desire.”
With a glance at the door to the dining area, she lowered her voice, “You snake. How dare you insinuate that about my mother? You don’t know her and you have no right to jump to that kind of conclusion.”
He sat up a little, aiming a cold smile in her direction. “You’re right. I barely know your mother—hardly less than my father does—but I’ve met plenty of women who screw men for money—“
Holly gasped. “How dare you!”
“—and,” he went on in a voice as low as hers, “I’ve seen men crushed by marriages they thought were genuine, loving partnerships, but that turned out to be nothing more than an expensive divorce in the making.”
Recognizing the anger vibrating in his words, she stared at him in shock, defensive words springing into her throat. He couldn’t talk bad about her mother!
“It’s just a reality—a sad leftover from the past decades of male supremacy in the workplace, no doubt—that women often attach themselves to the men they feel can provide the best income.“
“You think my mother married your father for his money,” Holly said in a scoffing voice. “Does he have a lot of money? Is he a millionaire or something? If so, it’s the first I’ve heard of it.”
Levi replied with obvious reluctance. “He’s…comfortable.”
She started to tell him hotly that through frugality and good-handling of her father’s life insurance money, her mother was a little better than comfortable. Holly opened her mouth impetuously to utter the words, but stopped herself in time. What if Michael Harper didn’t know about her mother’s nest egg? No sense in blurting that out before the annulment was final.
Levi leaned back on the worn couch, his arm along the back swinging his suit jacket open to reveal a trim midsection. “You work in Hollywood. You’ve seen plenty of women screwing men out of money.”
“And vice versa!” she shot back. “I’ve seen plenty of men screwing women out of money—“
“That may be happening more, as women earn more, but—“
“—and I’ve seen even more older, powerful men screwing desperate women over just because they could.”
Levi’s jaw tightened as he sat forward. “Let’s don’t play around here. Lots of women have come after my father for his money—and no, he doesn’t have that much, but it still pulls in the vultures—“
She gasped again, but he just went on.
“—who want to pick his bones dry. My dad isn’t a tough guy. He’s sweet and generous and way too giving—“
“Unlike you!”
Levi’s responding smile was thin. “No, I’m not sweet or generous. I’ve learned how to get everything out of a situation.”
Her hands griping her knees, she said, “That’s certainly your reputation!”
“Just so you know. I plan to extricate my father from this marriage as quickly and as ruthlessly as needed.”
“Extricate him?”
“Yes, without your mother getting a dime. He’s already done that stint and he’s been through enough.”
She could see a tiny muscle twitch along his jaw. Apparently the tough negotiator wasn’t as objective when his father was involved.
Levi leaned back again, stretching his arms along the top of the couch. “Dad’s got representation, of a sorts. I do the dirty work and I’m here to make sure no woman takes him to the cleaners.”
“You know what? Despite the fact that I’d loved to sock you in the face for what you think of my mother,” Holly smiled at him thinly, “we’ve both come to this horrendous Christmas celebration with the same goal. We’re actually were working toward the same end. Jerk.”
***
Holly trudged through the trampled snow, following her mother as she delved further into the Christmas tree lot. With the setting of what little sun they had here in the winter in Minnesota, the temperature had dropped even lower.
“Mom, are you sure you need another tree?”
Levi and his father were parking the car in the crowded lot and Holly wished she were with them, even as bristly as things had been with the annoying Hollywood agent.
Huddling her thin coat around her as best she could, Holly reflected that neither California nor Africa had prepared her for the wardrobe necessities of Minneapolis in December.
It was different for Levi, who apparently had gotten the memo about needing snow gear. Although she’d been coming here on holidays with her mother for years, she’d completely forgotten how damn frigid the place was. Friggin’ snow.
Levi, on the other hand, had come out of the house this evening wearing a heavy anorak and a scarf. He still must not have heard about Mac Toledo agreeing to appear in her documentary. She had decided that much when the subject never came up during their argument, which—having come to know Levi—she was certain it would if he’d known about it. He’d have accused her of being just another woman out to screw a man over.
Her little documentary couldn’t pay Mac nearly what producers were ponying up for the actor these days and Levi’s cut would be very, very much less than he usually made of Mac’s time.
Her mother rushed through the Christmas trees spiked into the ground at the lot, grabbing Holly in a giddy hug.
“Don’t be a crab, Holl. We need a tree for the family room. You know I have extra ornaments.”
“You have extra ornaments every year,” Holly pointed out with resignation. “And you keep buying more every year.”
Her mother giggled. “Come on. There’s one over here that looks like it may be perfect.”
Holly watched her mother traipsing through several staked rows of trees.
“Can’t you stop this?” Levi said under his breath as he joined her, his father following behind.
“I tried,” she responded, her voice as low as his. He was a pain in the ass, but she couldn’t help sharing his reluctance to be here.
They began wading through the rows of trees that had been hacked down and hauled in for this silly ritual. For as long as Holly could remember, her mother had delighted in the holiday season, draping the house in garlands and playing Christmas songs until Holly dreamed about them in her nightmares. Ever since her dad had died in December, the Christmas spectacle had lost its luster for her. She just couldn’t see the point. Even as a child, it had seemed like a reason for people to do stupid things and watch silly movies. What they found so entertaining about a kid left by himself to face burglars when his family left him behind, she had never understood.
And she wasn’t all that fond of snow, either, she remembered as she trudged through the white mass, feeling it melt through her sneakers. The only thing it was good for was sledding, but she could do with a lot less of the white, cold stuff now. No need for snow boots in California.
“So we buy another dead tree for the family room?” Levi said, coming up behind her. “Can we go back to the house then?”
Muffling a giggle, Holly told him sternly, “First we have to strap the thing to the top of the car, silly, and then someone—I’m voting for you and your father because I don’t want to do it—has to cut off part of the trunk—“
“Damn.”
“—and then it’ll be hauled into the house for my mother to string lights and hang ornaments—“
Levi groaned. “I think I feel myself coming down with pneumonia.”
“It won’t do any good,” she told him kindly as she struggled through another mound of snow between the next row of trees. “My mother will just make a bed on the couch in the family room so you can suffer your fatal illness
while listening to Bing Crosby.”
She paused between the rows, hearing her mother’s cries of pleasure as she located another “wonderful tree”, to shake snow from her now-wet shoe.
Levi stopped beside her. “Why aren’t you wearing boots? Those shoes looked soaked.”
“They are soaked.” She didn’t try to keep the irritated note from her voice. “I really haven’t had any need for snow boots most of the time, thank you very much, and the boots I do have are way to pretty for this kind of exposure—all six pair of them.”
“Bet you wish you had a non-pretty pair right now.”
Ignoring his last comment, Holly trudged on through the rows.
By this time they’d arrived alongside her mother who circled a tree—that look identical to the several hundred others that were staked here. Michael joined her mom in making appreciative comments about the fir, but Holly couldn’t work up any enthusiasm. Walking away from the tree, she stomped her feet several times, trying to get some feeling back in them.
“So, have you been the one cutting off the tree trunk up until now?” Levi had come to join her in the gap between the trees.
She made a face at him. “Pretty much, but now you and your dad can do it.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the older couple who were still discussing which of the various trees were more perfect. “I’ll let him do it. It’ll make him look better in your mother’s eyes.”
“I wouldn’t think you’d want that.” She kept trying to stomp the damp snow off her feet.
He shrugged. “It won’t hurt anything. Or change anything.”
Holly stopped stomping long enough to look at him. “So, how do you plan to put a stop to this marriage? Got a plan?”
His dark, lean face was impassive. “It’s still coming together. Do you want to know the details?”
“Not really.”
“Hey, you two!” her mother called out. “Come vote on your favorite.”
“It’s okay, mom. Whichever one you want is fine.” Holly just wanted a decision, so she could get back into the car and warm her feet.
“Well, I like this one, but Michael insists the first one we looked at is better.” Her mother circled the tree again.
“Yea, come on you two. Settle the argument for us,” Michael’s father invited. “Come on, son. All those years in California hasn’t changed you that much. You must have an opinion!”
“I have an opinion, all right.” Levi’s words were low before he trudged over to where his father stood, staring at the tree with her mom.
Going back to stamping her feet, Holly took no part in the conversation, but she was startled when Levi suddenly appeared in front of her, turning his back and squatting down.
“Climb on,” he said over his shoulder.
“What?”
“Climb on,” he repeated. “They’ve decided on this tree and my dad’s paying the lot attendant. Decision made. We can go back to the car.
When she didn’t respond immediately, he said, “I think we need to call a truce. We’re both here for the same end, we’re both having to endure all this Christmas crap. Now, climb on my back. Your shoes are soaked and your feet are frozen. Climb on and I’ll carry you back.”
Standing on frozen feet in sopping shoes, Holly stood debating. This was so bizarre and she didn’t even know him! The truce made sense, but she wasn’t sure how far they should go with it.
“Come on. The offer won’t last long. Are you or aren’t you?”
“I am,” she said with sudden decision, slogging to where he squatted.
“Smart woman.” Levi hoisted her as he stood, bouncing a little to adjust her position. “Okay. Let’s get you out of the snow.”
Clinging to his shoulders—broader than she expected them to be—she registered his bare hands on her jean-clad knees and the slight stubble on his chin as she clung to his back. She wasn’t either tall or particularly heavy, but she felt way too heavy to be carried like this.
“Try not to strangle me,” he said over his shoulder as he walked between the trees.
“I’m sorry!” she said, registering the warmth of his neck even as he spoke.
Levi bounced her again, readjusting she guessed.
“So, big lunch?” There was laughter in his voice.
“No!” she said with indignation as he chuckled.
The chilly breeze lifted her hair as he walked and she registered the warm, clean smell of his hair.
“It occurs to me,” he said, still in that teasing voice, “that I could actually take you anywhere, since you’re already up there.”
“Not a lot of options,” she said, glancing around the tree lot and the barren parking lots around it.
“No,” he agreed, “but I just like having the power.”
“I’ve heard that about you,” she observed as they moved out of the lines of trees, heading for the car.
“Why haven’t I heard about you?” He turned his head to crane a look a her.
“Just haven’t broken through to the big time yet. But I’m sure it’ll happen soon.” Holly knew he’d hear plenty when he learned of Mac Toledo’s next project.
* * * * * * * * *
CHAPTER THREE
“So….how are things working out between you and Michael?” The next morning, Holly stood next to the kitchen island where her mother was chopping vegetables.
“We’re fine.” Her mother gave her a sunny smile.
Around them the house was silent. Her mother said Michael had gone out for his daily run and she supposed Levi was sleeping in.
“No challenges? No issues? No problems?” Holly looked at her mother searchingly.
Audrey scooped the diced veggies into a soup pot. “None. Are you disappointed?”
“Of course not,” Holly responded with asperity. “I’m just concerned that you jumped into this too quickly—“
“I know you’re adjusting to seeing me with a man other than your father—who died a long time ago, might I remind you—but Michael and I get along wonderfully.” Her mother gave her a look. “Why is this so hard for you to understand?”
“You were single a long time—“ Holly started.
Audrey reached for a potato. “But not so long that I forgot how to be married.”
“You took this step too fast.” Holly picked up a carrot and started nibbling on it.
Her mother continued chopping with short, competent moves. “When we met again after knowing each other as children, we just knew it was right. At our time of life, waiting around to try to make sure just doesn’t seem smart. Michael and I know it takes a lot to make a marriage. We’re prepared. Life has taught us a lot.”
“You’re not that old,” Holly scolded.
“Old enough,” her mother said, still chopping. “I just wish you and Levi could see that.”
“Mom, it’s just that I care for you—“
“Holly, can I talk to you for a moment?” Levi appeared suddenly in the doorway, his face thunderous. “Alone?”
Her mother glanced up curiously.
“What? I thought you were still asleep,” Holly said, taking another nibble of carrot.
“Alone, if you please.” He gestured toward the living area.
Holly threw her mother a meaningful glance before she walked into the other room with him. Her mom had no way of knowing what was going on, but Holly had a flash of suspicion.
“Apparently we have more in common than just working in the same industry.” He faced her like a gun slinger, the muscle along his jaw tight.
“Hmmm. Okay.” She knew where this was going. Flipping her hair off her shoulder, she waited.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you’ve been talking to Mac Toledo?” The question was asked in a level voice, but she could tell by Levi’s implacable expression that he was pissed.
She shrugged as casually as she could, considering the fury emanating from him. “Either it just never came up or I’m another woman just out to scr
ew men over for money.”
He ignored the last part of her sentence. “Never came up? Seriously? You’ve been negotiating with my client to do a film role and you just didn’t see how this would be of interest to me?”
Dressed down this morning in a plaid shirt and jeans that clung to him in all the right places, he still looked like a powerful movie agent, despite not wearing a two thousand dollar suit.
“No, it just never came up.” Holly jutted her chin out, determined not to be bullied.
“Holly, Mac Toledo is my client. I negotiate all his contracts. That’s what agents do.” Levi braced his fists on his lean hips. “Reputable film makers know they have to talk to actors’ agents—“
“Are you saying I’m not reputable?” She interrupted him. “Because you didn’t even know me before yesterday. I’ll bet you’ve never heard of my films, but I’ve dedicated myself to this documentary. It’s a story that really needs to be told. I hardly think you can say whether my reputation is good or bad. So, don’t lump me in with all those gold-diggers you know. Mac Toledo will draw attention to the hunger in a very poor country.”
Levi refused to get sidetracked by the gold-digger remark. He could not believe the gall of woman. “This isn’t about how you’re viewed in the industry. Mac Toledo is my client. All requests for his acting services go through me.”
“So, you’re mad because you didn’t get to make this deal? I just floated the idea of my documentary past him to see if he had any interest,” she insisted, making a floating, breezy gesture with her hand. “Zambia’s poverty isn’t a sexy topic. Lots of people don’t really care. If he didn’t, you didn’t need to be bothered.”
“Since when do you bother the actor, but not his business people?” Levi’s question was sarcastic.
“Look,” she said, “my work is very personal. Very small and personal. I happened to run into Mac and he was interested in my project. The actors who work with me have to care about the subject matter. I just mentioned it. Mac might not have wanted to be involved, at all.”
Levi had never understood what it meant for characters to grind their teeth when in an argument, but he got it now. “Mac’s telling me that he’s very interested—That he’s actually signed a contract to do your documentary.”