Scheming and Dreaming in Los Angeles

by Donna Del Oro

  None of that made sense to her but something else did. “Don’t tell me. He was a business associate of Porter’s?”

  Aaron nodded and huffed. “Yep. He just now told me. They’re partners in that Ojai fashion plaza.” Realization dawned on his features. “Of course. That’s why the man called me out of the blue. Said he wanted to invest privately in my play. I thought he was just a corporate man looking for a tax write-off. I didn’t connect the dots, so help me, God, Tess. He was fronting for Porter…Porter’s insurance policy that I’d stay away from you. Oh God, how stupid could I be?”

  Tess squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, damn!” She opened them. “What d’ya mean, major backer?”

  “He put up half of the million-dollar upfront money. The rest is Pete’s, Steve’s, mine, and a small grant.” Aaron went outside and sat down on one of the steps, looking stunned. She followed him while Marisa began emptying the dresser drawers into the suitcase Aaron had brought upstairs.

  “Sonuva—how am I going to raise half a million in one week? Rehearsals start next Monday! I’ve signed all these contracts…”

  For the first time, Tess heard the fear creep into Aaron’s voice. She held up her tote as she took a seat next to him. They weren’t going to cave now. There was too much at stake.

  “My jewelry, the engagement ring, the emerald earrings. I’ll pawn them. They’re yours.” She paused as another thought sprang into her frantic mind. Aaron’s frozen gaze at the ground gradually raised to meet hers.

  “Thanks, Tess, but it’s not enough.”

  “There’s something else.”

  Aaron had mentioned the contracts he’d signed to rent rehearsal space at the local high school theater and later at the La Jolla Playhouse. The contracts he signed with the actors and singers, the stage crew, the technicians, the musicians.

  Contracts with people who depended on him—her frantic thoughts followed a logical course. Her work contract at Porter’s club, as valid a contract as one could find in this valley. Try as he might, Porter couldn’t prove she’d violated her work contract. He might bribe a few witnesses at the club, but all this drug use he’d claim in a legal deposition would never be proven. Couldn’t be proven. Porter was counting on her and Aaron slinking away with their tails between their legs. Well, no way, Jose!

  She leaned back and called out, “Marisa, that labor lawyer-friend of yours? What’s his name? You said he’s a real tiger at helping the underdogs of society. He loves to butt heads with Hollywood fat cats.”

  “My cousin, Guillermo!” she yelled back.

  “Yeah, let’s call him.” She stood up to go back inside. “I’m going after a certain fat cat who hates to play fair. Don’t give up, Aaron. It’s not over ‘til the fat lady sings!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tess’ head felt leaden. Although she’d slept most of the night, it had been a fitful sleep. Aaron had tossed and turned beside her, revealing his anxiety, too.

  What a week! Between auditions for the minor characters and chorus members and Aaron’s last-minute musical arrangement changes—with the aid of his synthesizer—he’d been a dynamo of activity. Exhausted and tense, he fell into bed every night like a soldier after night patrol in enemy territory.

  For her part, Tess’ flurry of meetings with the labor lawyer, Guillermo Vega, and trips to pawn shops and jewelry stores in an attempt to get the highest amount of cash, plus supervising her apartment repairs, had all taken their toll on her nerves. She’d buoyed herself by spending four hours a day learning Sophie’s lines and practicing her musical numbers. The beauty of Aaron’s music lifted her spirits and she was grateful for his gift and perseverance.

  Today was it. The day of reckoning. Today, she and Aaron would find out whether his musical made it to the stage or whether it died a premature death.

  Opening her eyes, she found herself staring into Aaron’s dark blue ones. He looked troubled as he stared at her. Never one to beat around the bush, he appeared determined to get something off his chest.

  “Morning, Tess.” His hand clamped over her bare thigh—her nightgown had crept up to her waist during her restless night—and remained there. He smiled weakly.

  “You didn’t sleep much, did you?” she asked him.

  “No. Today…well, I sink or swim. It all comes down to three meetings. Everything depends on the decisions of a few people. It seems so…unfair. So many people are depending on me to carry off this production. The possibility that I might disappoint all those…” His voice trailed off and he rolled on his back, keeping one hand on her thigh. The other arm covered his forehead, as if it took all his strength to face this day. Her heart went out to him as she stroked his bare chest.

  “Tess, I know I haven’t—we haven’t made love in…how many days? All week?”

  “It’s not important. We’ve been depressed, upset.”

  “Yeah, but nothing’s changed between us, has it? Do you regret hitching your wagon to my…perhaps fading star?”

  His head swiveled back to her and their eyes locked. She was silent for several moments while she carefully chose her words. There was so much she wanted to say.

  “I thought so,” he muttered, removing his hand from her thigh.

  Oh, brother!

  Swiftly, she disabused him of such a crazy notion. She levered herself up and climbed on top of his belly, straddling him. Her naked bottom rubbed against his erection. Her long hair, plaited in a single braid, whipped around and smacked him in the face. That made him chuckle and flick the braid away. She bent down and kissed him deeply. Wetly. Hotly. Nibbled his lips before raising her head. By then, his eyes had glazed over.

  “Is that an adequate answer?”

  His broad smile assured her it was. Nostrils flaring, his eyes widened when she shifted her hips, positioning herself so that his stiff erection slid slowly into her. They both let out gasps of pleasure. Still, she remained clearheaded enough to want to address his rush of insecurity.

  “Aaron…you know what this business is like. Overnight, you’re either a star or a has-been. Or until something else happens. You can be on the bottom and then, with a bit of luck, a quirk of fate and voila, you’re on top. And vice versa. If you can’t take the roller coaster ride, you better go sell insurance.”

  “Well, I like you on top…”

  She ignored his innuendo and fought the surge of desire welling up inside until she could convey her message. Time to cheer the team on.

  “You’ve got to stay strong, Aaron. Remember what you’ve always told me. Strong heart. Clear head. Tough skin. That’s what you need in this business. That’s what gets you through life, especially the rough patches. You taught me that—”

  He cut her sermon short with another stirring kiss, which carried them both to temporary oblivion.

  * * * *

  While Aaron made his rounds, pitching the money men, Tess drove around the valley. At Cartier’s on Rodeo Drive, she sold back her engagement ring and received in cash one-half of its market value, twenty-thousand dollars. In addition, she received another thirty-thousand for two diamond bracelets, one ruby-and-diamond necklace with a pair of matching earrings.

  Fifty thousand dollars. Far short of the half million Aaron needed, but at least it was a start.

  Feeling hopeful, Tess next met with her landlord, Nigel Bailey, in San Gabriel and paid him for the cleaning, painting and new carpets necessary to restore her apartment. Eight thousand swallowed most of her entire cruise salary, but she had agreed with Bailey that it was her mess to take care of. His insurance premium would have gone up if he’d applied for a claim resulting from the vandalism. Housing was expensive in the nice neighborhoods and she wanted to keep her apartment. Her fifteen-hundred a month rent was a steal and living so close to Marisa made her feel good. While there, she left Marisa a note, reassuring her friend that she was fine and staying at Aaron’s. If any suspicious strangers came around asking for her, Marisa was to tell them that she’d taken a job back in
Palm Springs.

  Tess intended to keep Porter’s minions away from Aaron’s place and she wasn’t about to trust Porter any longer. At noon, she took La Cienega Boulevard south, but stopped at a diner near Dodger Stadium for a tuna sandwich and Diet Coke. While there, she checked in with Aaron via cell phone.

  “Any luck?”

  “This Santa Monica investing group’s playing a wait-and-see game. They’ll come to premiere night at La Jolla and decide then. I told them I needed a commitment up front, but they’re not buying. Even my director, Steve Madden, couldn’t convince them and he’s a proven entity. My accountant’s meeting us at the Hyatt in downtown L.A., so maybe the three of us can make some headway. I sent the promo package to two other corporate foundations.”

  Aaron sounded discouraged, so she tried to muster some optimism. “Who’s next?”

  “The corporate guy that John Snider knew—remember the talent scout on the cruise who gave me his card? Anyway, he wants us to meet the CFO of Bio-Pax. They’re looking for a corporate sponsorship, and he and his wife are big theater goers.”

  “Wow, sounds promising! Good luck, sweetheart.” She pumped false cheer into her voice but knew she wasn’t fooling him.

  “What about you?”

  “Making some headway, to borrow your phrase. I’m meeting with Guillermo Vega at one o’clock. He’s Marisa’s cousin, the labor lawyer. He’s been negotiating all week with Porter’s attorney. After he filed a lawsuit on my behalf, claiming breach of contract, slander and defamation of character, Porter’s attorney started returning his calls. This Guillermo’s a tiger.”

  “Good, sounds like a kick-ass kind of guy. You hang tough, Tess.”

  “Oh, yes. I hated to do this, but Porter carried his revenge too far. I won’t have him slandering my name and reputation—”

  “Sorry, baby, gotta run. See you at home.”

  Aaron rang off. Tess crossed her fingers, said a silent prayer and for good measure tossed salt over her left shoulder.

  Refueled and replenished, she got in her Explorer and drove west on the 10 to Interstate 5, then due southwest on the 605 toward Long Beach. Near Cal State University at Long Beach, Tess found Guillermo Vega’s office in a stucco legal building off Pacific Coast Highway.

  Suddenly nervous, she smoothed down the cotton, wild animal-print tunic she wore over white linen pants, and fingered the two, thick wooden bangles on her right wrist. This summer outfit was one of three she’d taken with her on the cruise and which, of course, had survived her wardrobe fire. She’d met Guillermo once before, the day after her apartment visit. Thanks to Marisa, her cousin had cleared his schedule to make time for her.

  Guillermo, about Aaron’s age and as dark and handsome a Latino male as she’d ever seen, was a UCLA law school graduate. He was as fearless as a Mexican mule—Marisa’s words—and as tenacious as a terrier. He told her he’d plagued Porter’s corporate lawyer with no fewer than fifty phone calls over the past five days. He laughed when he told her this, clearly proud of his ballsy nature.

  His secretary waved her through with a sly smile. That bode well, Tess thought. When Guillermo spotted her, he was on his Bluetooth connection, but he jumped up and gallantly showed her a seat as he continued his phone call.

  “Don’t bullshit me, you cheap sonuvabitch! I know you’re worth at least fifty million, so don’t tell me you laid off ten minimum-wage workers because the economy’s tanked. In point of fact, your profit margins at least twenty-five percent despite the recession. Yeah, yeah, I’ve done my homework, so you think about it. I expect you to hire back at least five of those ten, and find slots for the other five at your other, more profitable franchise stores. These ten people have families that buy your crappy food. Think about that.”

  The call continued a minute longer while Tess listened to his tough talk and watched him toss a baseball into the air, catching it barehanded. Finally, he hung up. His dark brown eyes leveled on hers after he indulged himself with a quick, admiring onceover up and down her body. Accustomed to male attention, Tess smiled blandly in acknowledgement. She couldn’t help but wonder how much of his tough talk was for her benefit and how much was for real. She hoped it was for real. A roaring tiger in her corner was what she needed.

  “Did you know, Tess, I caught your show one night with Marisa and some friends,” Guillermo began without preamble, “You’re one hot, sexy gal with a great voice. You can sing R & B like nobody else I’ve ever heard.”

  “Thanks. It was nice of Marisa to bring you.” She waited, hiding her impatience.

  “A great voice…and now eighty-thousand dollars richer. If you’re willing to accept the asshole’s settlement offer, that is.”

  “What! They want to settle out of court?”

  The lawyer smiled, revealing a row of white, even teeth. Marisa was right. Her cousin could deal with the devil and come away owning a sulfur mine.

  “They knew you’d win a helluva lot more in court. It’s up to you, Tess. We go all the way…but it might drag on a year or two before you see any money, during which time my legal fees mount. Or you can take a smaller cash settlement now.”

  Tess’ first thought was that Aaron could use the money…now.

  “I’ll take it now, Guillermo. And thanks so much.”

  “Okay, I’ll make the call. You can pick up the check tomorrow.” He shook her hand when she stood and offered hers. “Oh, and pass my cards around to your show business friends. People in the entertainment business get the shaft more often than any other group in L.A. Other than my people, that is.”

  “I can’t thank you enough,” she gushed in gratitude, accepting a fistful of his business cards.

  Guillermo shot her the look, flirting with her openly now. “If you and this musician friend of yours—” he shrugged—“ever call it quits, let me know. I’m a single guy who likes what he sees.”

  She returned a diplomatic smile. “Aaron’s a gifted composer and thanks to your…”

  “Cojones?” he interjected, grinning.

  “… your skills, he might have the chance to show how gifted he is. Guillermo, I appreciate your help so much! I’ll send you complimentary tickets to opening night. Marisa, too.”

  On the way back to her car, she wanted to skip along in celebration. Instead, her heart and mind skipped instead.

  Great! She’d just raised…let’s see, eighty-thousand minus five for legal fees equals seventy-five thousand. Plus fifty thou from her jewelry sales, she’d surprise Aaron with one-hundred-and-twenty-five thousand dollars! Not exactly half a million, but it was moving closer.

  Her heart was lighter than it was early that morning. She hoped Aaron would feel the same.

  * * * *

  She used her new key to open Aaron’s front door.

  “Aaron, I’m home! Brought some steaks and some Neapolitan ice cream to celebrate.” She carried her grocery bag straight back to the kitchen, deposited the steaks on the counter and put the ice cream carton in the freezer. “Remember how your mother would get Neapolitan for the three of us? She’d carve up the ice cream into threes, chocolate for Mac, vanilla for you and strawberry for me. She called it a way to make all of us happy with one carton of ice cream.”

  No sound came from Aaron’s bedroom, nor from any other room in the house. Her chest felt like a vise squeezed her heart. She dropped her purse on the kitchen table and scurried to the bedrooms. Sitting on his bed, his cordless phone in one hand and a notepad in the other, Aaron looked up as she entered. He was naked except for his black briefs. The suit he wore that morning was flung on the bed, rumpled.

  “Why didn’t you answer? You scared me—” She stopped when she noticed the expression on his face. “Who called? Not that Patsy again?”

  Aaron blinked, focusing on her for the first time.

  “This time, no. It’s not Pat. That was an attorney in Santa Monica. Do you know an estate attorney on Wilshire Boulevard?” She shook her head. “He wants to see us—both of us—tom
orrow morning. I didn’t recognize the name. He’s not my parents’ estate attorney.”

  “Hmmm, estate attorneys don’t sue…do they?” She began disrobing, her plan to switch to sweats for a long run. But only after sharing her good news.

  Aaron barked a sour laugh. “If there’s one in all of Los Angeles County who does, that’ll be him. Maybe he’s one of Porter’s lawyers, suing us for… something or other. What’s that phrase? Theft of affections?”

  Wishing to change the subject, for Tess could see that his meetings hadn’t gone well, she pointed to his king-size bed.

  “You need to call that girl and explain the situation. She’s been calling you three or four times a day and leaving messages. After all, you slept with her in this very bed almost four weeks ago. She might think you’re still interested.”

  He stood up and tossed the cordless receiver on the bed. “What, not returning her calls isn’t enough of an answer? What does it take, Tess?”

  “For some, a straight answer, face to face.”

  “Jeez, what can I tell her? Meet with her over coffee and say, I finally got the woman I’ve been in love with for years to come around… so hasta la vista, baby…it’s been fun but—”

  She stripped down to her bra and bikini panties. “Well, yeah, only with finesse and sympathy.” His eyes roved over her, then pulled away. “C’mon, Aaron, you can do it. Have some coffee or a drink, and after you come back, we’ll celebrate my good news with steak and ice cream. Okay?”

  “What good news?”

  She approached him and laid a hand on his washboard abdomen. “I’m one-hundred-and-twenty-five thousand dollars richer and I want to be one of your investors.”

  He backed away a step and narrowed his eyes. “What did you sell? Not the emerald earrings?”

  “No, I was going to, but something stopped me. I did have them appraised and I can get fifty to seventy-thousand for them. Can you imagine? That’d be almost two-hundred thousand, Aaron! Not the half million, but close enough—”