Scheming and Dreaming in Los Angeles

by Donna Del Oro

  “I do,” she said, “I will. Things may be difficult over the next few months, but we will get through it.” Aaron seemed to understand that she was referring obliquely to Porter and the imminent breakup. Though he was soon to be her ex, he’d remain her boss.

  Maybe an untenable position. Probably impossible.

  Aaron nodded. “We’ll go over there together and break the news…if he hasn’t already heard. The two PIs have been hanging around our hallway. I’m sure they know what’s been going on. And if they’re around, Tess, I’ll bet they’re taking photos right now with you in my lap.”

  “I don’t care,” she said, kissing him full on the mouth. When another couple walked by their saucer, she disengaged herself and withdrew. At least twenty other saucers began to fill up with people from their motorcoach. The pools resounded with splashes and squeals of delight. The thunder of the waterfall fell to a dull, distant roar.

  Aaron’s words stayed with her, however. She’d never considered including him in her confrontation with Porter. It wasn’t a good idea because Porter had a temper. She’s seen him fire a few employees at his club in the most scathing manner, not content until he’d humiliated the people and brought them to their knees. It was a mean streak that she was aware of. Even though he’d always treated Tess with kindness and generosity, she was realistic enough to realize that she’d worked hard to stay in his good graces. A kind of subjugation that she wasn’t proud of, that ran counter to her nature. Good grief, what had gotten into her? One-hundred-thousand smackers and change—and the potential for a whole lot more—that’s what.

  Disgust turned her stomach. She’d come close to selling herself for money. What would that make her? Something close to what her mother had done for heroin?

  That’s no longer the case. Thank God…and thank Aaron.

  “I’d rather confront him by myself,” she declared. Her chin lifted stubbornly.

  A scowl creased Aaron’s forehead and worry shuttered his blue eyes, turning them almost black. “No, I don’t want that. Tess, haven’t you heard the rumors about him? Even Pete’s heard the talk around the clubs and studios. Sure Porter’s got clout in the valley, but people are afraid of him for a reason. They say his businesses are money laundering fronts for the West Coast mob.”

  She’d heard such allegations before and had ignored them. She had to laugh.

  “Aaron, that’s silly. Porter’s a legitimate businessman.”

  “Pete told me his FBI buddy was part of a team that investigated Porter a year ago. They couldn’t find any proof because he’s one cagey bastard. The accounting firm doing his books is just this side of shady. I don’t want you to go near him by yourself, boss or no boss. I’m telling you, everything’ll change once you call off the wedding and break up with him.”

  Just then, two of the four lead singers from the Empress Theater, Matt and Milo, clambered into their saucer. Both men were from L.A. and had caught their show last night. Tess dropped the subject as pleasantries and introductions passed around.

  “Sorry we missed most of your performances,” Aaron said to the men. “We were either rehearsing or performing.”

  Matt smiled. “The Horizon Lounge. We caught your original music—the numbers from your stage play—last night. Very cool melodies for traditional music. Tess, you’ve got a great voice.”

  Tess and Aaron thanked him. Matt was a tall, dark-haired man in his mid to late thirties, had an Italian look about him, and was the right type and age to play the Russian coach. His mellifluous baritone and good looks reminded her of Robert Goulet. Milo was a beefier, more Irish-appearing leading man type. Also had a smooth baritone voice with dark, musky overtones. They’d impressed her the first night of the cruise, when she and Aaron had taken in the Empress Theater’s preview show. Tess knew that Aaron was thinking the same thing when their eyes met.

  “Thanks,” said Aaron, “The play’s going into rehearsals in one week. All the roles have been cast except for the two male leads. When are your contracts up with Empress Cruises?”

  Milo’s sandy-brown eyebrows shot up. “You asking us to audition for one of the leads?”

  “For both, actually. The Russian water polo coach who falls for Sophie, here—” Aaron indicated Tess and smiled—“and the American swimmer who does the same. You heard two of the songs they sing last night, although I didn’t do either song much justice.”

  “No, they were cool numbers,” said Milo.

  “I see,” Matt remarked, his smile tentative and reserved, “My contract’s up the day after tomorrow when we hit Fort Lauderdale. I was intending to have my agent shop around for me. I want to stay put in the L.A. area for the next couple of months. My wife’s expecting our second child in two months. “He paused and scrutinized Aaron a moment. “You’ve got backing, I presume. Producers?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Aaron said. He noticed Milo staring at Tess, and so he clamped a possessive hand on her shoulder and pulled her closer to him. “You’d make a good young American athlete. You’ve got a face that makes you look ten years younger.”

  “That’s what they tell me,” Milo said, smiling boyishly, “I don’t know about Matt, but I’m interested. I’d like to try something different.”

  “You married, Milo?” Aaron exchanged a meaningful look with Tess, who rolled her eyes.

  “My pal bats for the other team,” said Matt, giving Milo a mock punch in the jaw. “It’d be a blast to do this together, man. I’m interested. When and where’s the audition?”

  “You had it the first night of the cruise. If you want, you’re both hired.”

  “We’re Equity.”

  “Okay by me. I can afford it.” Aaron relinquished his hand on Tess’ shoulder to shake hands with the two men. She felt a surge of excitement pulse through Aaron’s body as he replaced his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. His way of telegraphing this could be our dream team. One was a devoted husband and father, the other gay. He didn’t have to worry about them hustling Tess.

  “We open at the La Jolla Playhouse August first for a six-week run. Eight weeks if all goes well and tickets sell. We’ll have a preview night for the critics, the money men and potential Broadway producers.”

  Matt and Milo glanced at each other and made faces, as if saying, Sure, why not?

  That was L.A. and the entertainment world she knew. There was always a risk, but also the potential for The Big Break. No guts, no glory. No game, no fame.

  Her gaze fixed on Aaron’s tone of rising optimism. They both knew neither man would have signed on so quickly if they hadn’t sensed a potential hit in the making. Automatically she crossed her fingers on both hands and said a quick, silent prayer. For Aaron’s sake, she wished his dream would come true.

  Let him succeed, just this once.

  Chapter Twelve

  Forty-eight hours later, they stood in line to board a Continental flight back to L.A. Pete, Aaron’s screenwriting pal, would be picking them up at LAX and taking them back to Aaron’s house in Torrance, about ten minutes away on the 405. Aaron’s plan was for the two of them to pay Porter a visit at the club—a public place where the man was less likely to cause a scene—and then arrange to pick up Tess’ car and whatever personal effects she’d left behind at Porter’s mansion in Beverly Hills.

  “I’ve got to run to the bathroom,” she told Aaron, slipping away. Inside the restroom, she finally acted upon the decision she’d made two days ago. Aaron would never understand or accept why she had to see Porter alone, so concerned was he for her safety. She owed Porter, her boss and friend, that much. He’d been good to her, had claimed to be in love with her, and had showered her with gifts to prove himself. He’d even offered to marry her, for crying out loud. No man, other than Aaron, had ever promised marriage before.

  She owed him, plain and simple, so she called Porter’s cell phone. When he picked up, she made her request. He sounded calm, almost cheerful as if nothing had happened. He agreed readily.

  Hea
ving a sigh of relief, Tess hung up before any more could be said. The man deserved a face-to-face breakup and a heartfelt explanation. She’d rehearsed her speech the last two days over and over in her mind. Would Porter be reasonable? She’d soon find out.

  When she returned to Aaron, her boarding pass clutched in her hand, he simply said, “We’re going home.” She smiled at him and squeezed his arm. There was so much implied in that short sentence.

  “Yes, we are. Can I stay with you tonight?”

  “You bet. Mi casa es tu casa.” My house is yours. His sandy eyebrows wiggled mischievously before adding, “Mi cama es tu cama.” My bed is yours.

  * * * *

  During the five-hour flight, Tess’ stomach twisted in knots. She declined food and could only drink water. Even easygoing Aaron couldn’t eat. It was as if they both had a sense of foreboding. A confrontation with Porter wasn’t going to be pleasant. Maybe Aaron was thinking about Porter’s threat at the engagement party—he was looking at his fingers a lot during the flight. Would Porter act out on such an outlandish threat? Tess scowled and gazed out the window. He wouldn’t dare!

  LAX was, as usual, a teeming place with humans on the go. People coming from colder climes still wore jackets and coats. Angelinos on the move padded around in sandals and flip-flops. Most sported casual wear, the prevalent style this season being cargo Bermudas, Hawaiian shirts and tank tops. Sunshine warmed their faces as Tess and Aaron waited in front of the “Arrivals” terminal, a baggage handler wheeling out the cart carrying Tess’ two Pullmans, carryon and music satchel.

  While Aaron began to push his cart, loaded with his one suitcase and synthesizer, toward Pete’s hulking SUV, waiting at the curb, Tess slipped a five-dollar bill to her porter and pointed to a long, sleek black limo gliding up to a stop.

  “C’mon, Tess—” Aaron halted as soon as he realized she wasn’t following him. He spun around, looking confused, then he saw the black limo and Porter standing behind the open, back door. “Oh, no, Tess. Don’t do this.” His voice broke and his face crumpled. She hurried to reassure him.

  “Aaron, Aaron, listen to me. I called him, yes, but it’s only to talk to him in private…to break it off.” To quash his look of horror, she added, “Please, Aaron, please believe me. I’m not going back to him…I promise. I owe him a private breakup.”

  Her last word seemed to plunge and twist the knife in his guts. He looked physically ill. Visibly in pain, he even clutched his stomach. Not surprised, she knew he’d react in that way and she dreaded it. Porter was waiting and she wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. Tess walked toward the limo in her heeled sandals, calling back to Aaron, who remained frozen to his spot on the sidewalk.

  “I’ll call your cell in one hour. Aaron, I promise.”

  She turned away, walked the last few feet to the limo, her heart dragging behind her. Porter continued to stand by the passenger door, watching Aaron as she climbed into the back seat, her eyes averted from Porter’s face. No sooner were her bags stowed in the limo’s trunk than Porter’s driver slid behind the wheel and steered the limo into traffic.

  “So, nothing to say, Tess? That’s not like you.”

  Porter’s calm voice dripped with icy sarcasm. She sighed and opened her mouth to speak—

  Whack! Her head snapped to the side and her ears rang with the sudden, backhanded slap. Reflexively, she raised her hand to protect her face. Her right cheek and side of mouth stung sharply. She tongued the blood on her lower lip, then wiped it off with a finger. She could feel her mouth burn and swell up.

  “Okay, I deserve that.” She kept her eyes downcast on her tightly clasped hands. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for any of it to happen. It just…we just…”

  “Oh, spare me,” Porter snarled, “I knew how that prick felt about you. He’s had a hard-on for you for years, even I could see that. At our engagement party he looked like a kid who’d lost his pet dog. I knew if you were alone with him for any length of time, you two’d end up fucking your brains out. So that’s what happened, huh?”

  She stiffened, but kept silent.

  “Just a fling, Tess? Are you willing to toss it all away for a loser and his cock? Oh, don’t tell me it’s true love.”

  Porter’s mocking tone drew her wary eyes to his face. His expression was cold, implacable, hard to read. The reality of the situation became so clear to her. There he sat, cool and smug in a suit and tie, the consummate businessman ready to make a deal. She was just another perk to one of his business deals. Nothing more. His huge ego was bent out of shape, but that was all.

  “Porter, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize how much I cared for him…since I was sixteen…”

  “What the fuck, Tess? You think I care? You think I don’t understand how these things work? My daughter’s your age. She does cartwheels over a pretty face and a hard body. Sure I liked a pretty thing like yourself on my arm and you weren’t so young to cause me trouble. Sure I liked being called a stud by the old fogeys I do deals with. In this town, image is everything, you know that. But, baby, chicks like you are a dime a dozen. I know your personal history, let’s not forget that. Your dope-peddling old man, your whore of a mother—”

  “Just a minute, Porter!” She wheeled around and raised a fist, her anger spilling over. She caught the driver’s warning eye in the rear-view mirror. He was armed and built like a tank. Swallowing her rage, she buried her fists in her lap, her face inflamed.

  “That’s it, Tess, stay cool. You’ve got a temper, but I’m not finished with you. When we get to my place, you’ll find all your crap in a box in the back seat of that clunker you drive. Sonny’ll transfer your bags to your car which is parked outside my gate. I expect you to get the hell off my property and never come back.”

  She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Why was he letting her off so lightly? Something was not quite right here, but she wasn’t going to puzzle over it now. Slowly, she retrieved the huge diamond engagement ring out of her clutch purse and held it up.

  “Here, this no longer belongs to me.”

  Porter barked a short laugh. “Keep it, you earned it. I figure, ten bucks a fuck, you came cheap. Besides, you’ll need to pawn it.”

  His last words took a moment to penetrate the hot cloud of anger engulfing her mind.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re fired.”

  Her head whipped around. His eyes glittered brightly with hatred. “You heard me. You’re fired.”

  “But I have eighteen months left on my contract. We still have a contract…the club…I’m headlining…”

  “Not anymore. I’ve already replaced you at the club…and in my bed, not that you’d care in the least about that detail. In fact, you’re relieved. I can see it in your face. The contract, my dear Tess, is easily cancelled. There’s a clause about illicit drug-taking… and the rumor spreading around town and the club circuit is you’re a cokehead. I can’t have employees like you bringing down the reputation of my club. My clientele’s too highbrow…as my attorney reminded me just the other day. You’re entitled to seek legal counsel, of course, but I advise against it.”

  Tess bit back her outrage and willed herself to sit still, a tight, wooden mannequin of fear. What more could he do to destroy her reputation? Her ability to work?

  “Oh, and I expect you to cancel all the wedding details…if you haven’t already done so. I’m too preoccupied with my new…er, headliner to trifle with such nonsense.” He laughed again, an ugly, mirthless laugh. “Your friends are following us—I’m impressed by the fuckup’s perseverance. He’s afraid I’m going to physically harm you? Assault you? I believe you hit your face on the doorframe getting in, didn’t you?” He chuckled harshly. “How touching true love is.”

  A cold, heavy silence descended as the limo drove northwest on the 405, then veered off on the Bel Air exit. The heavy limo lumbered up Coldwater Canyon Drive, made two more turns and finally paused in front of Porter’s massive
front gate. Tess’ five year-old Ford Explorer sat by the curb. Disdaining to even glance at Porter, Tess climbed out as Sonny, the driver, transferred her suitcases and other bags to the Ford’s rear cargo hold. Then he handed Tess her car keys.

  Porter rolled down his window. “One more thing, Tess. Whatever you find at your apartment or at the fuckup’s place, I suggest very strongly that you regard it as one of those sad little lessons in life. Don’t do anything stupid. And that goes for the fuckup, too. Don’t bring in the cops.”

  Her stomach dropped as Pete’s car braked on the far side of the gate. Aaron jumped out of the front passenger seat. The wrought iron gates had opened and Porter’s limo rolled forward. She paused long enough to cry back at Porter, “Go to hell, asshole!”

  Glancing over at Aaron, Tess shook her head and then climbed into her car. Porter’s limo disappeared up the drive while Tess sat, willing her trembling body to calm down. She fought back the tears and sickness as bile rose in her throat. With effort, she forced it back down. Her hands shook on the steering wheel. She wanted to get out of there, but she couldn’t turn the ignition key, her hands were shaking so badly.

  What did Porter mean by don’t bring in the cops?

  When Aaron appeared at her car door, she got out and flung herself into his arms. Dry-eyed, she clung to him for dear life and sanity until the trembling stopped.

  “That wasn’t so bad—Tess, your face! That sonuvabitch! He hit you?”

  “Just a slap. It’s nothing, Aaron. I would’ve done the same if I were him…probably more. Really, it’s nothing. Please, let’s get out of here.”

  Aaron looked over at the closed gate. “My place?”

  She paused for half a beat. What would they find there? Porter’s threat…

  “Yes. Let’s go quickly!”

  * * * *

  Aaron drove her car as Pete followed in his SUV. They retraced the route they’d just taken from the airport, traveling south this time on the 405. Tess shook her head every time he asked her a question about her encounter with Porter. She wasn’t ready to talk about it or Porter’s veiled threat. They exited on Hawthorne and went south, then turned west on Sepulveda Boulevard near the Del Amo Fashion Center. A couple of blocks away Aaron’s neighborhood appeared. As soon as they pulled up in front of Aaron’s little bungalow, the neighbor to his left greeted them with a wave.