Celluloid Memories

by Sandra Kitt

  “As a matter of fact, why aren’t you talking to him about the script, if you’re interested?”

  “Because I want to make some changes. This is about some black woman who passes for white. We are so over that,” Cherise said with a dismissive wave of her hand and a roll of her eyes. “But the story could still work. Want to hear my ideas?”

  “Not particularly,” McCoy said. “It does no good to tell me because I can’t do anything about it, and I won’t. You don’t know who the screenwriter is, or his intentions, and you shouldn’t have taken the script without your agent’s permission.”

  “Well, I didn’t want him to show it to anyone else.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that he didn’t show you because the part wasn’t right for you?”

  “But I can make it right,” Cherise persisted.

  “Cherise,” McCoy began patiently, sitting back in his chair and covertly checking the time, “I know you feel you can do anything, and maybe you can. But you can’t do everything. No one can. Give it a rest. You have three or four projects already lined up. You’ve been in L.A. less than a year and your career is off the hook.

  What else do you want?”

  “This script,” she said, once again holding it up.

  McCoy slowly shook his head, shrugging lightly. “Can’t help you with this one. Sorry.”

  Cherise sighed and replaced the script into her bag. “You’re probably angry with me for just walking in unannounced. Let me make it up to you. Can I take you for a drink?”

  McCoy didn’t let his surprise reach his eyes. Cherise leaned forward just enough to let her silky Tse sheer blouse, with its deep V-neckline, swoop slightly open to reveal an enticing glimpse of swelling breast. In his recollection Cherise had yet to thank him for anything, so he was only amused by her strategy. And a little disturbed. He had never been interested in Jeff’s baby sister in that way, but knew there were plenty in Hollywood who wouldn’t hesitate to take her up on the offer. It might even be the subject of a future conversation. But not today.

  “Like I said when you came in, I have plans. And I don’t want to be late. Anything else?” He stood up.

  Cherise mewed with her glossed lips and stood as well. “I guess not.”

  And then, McCoy had another idea. She would never consider doing anything that would put her in a bad light. He suddenly realized that all he had to do was find a legitimate reason why Cherise shouldn’t consider the part in Fade to Black.

  “Tell you what,” McCoy began, his hand lightly on her shoulder as he steered her to the door. “Leave the script with me. I’ll read it over tonight and get back to you tomorrow.”

  “Oh, Mac, that is so great! I know you’re going to see I’m perfect for the part. With a few changes, of course.” Cherise pulled the script out again, kissed the cover sheet for good luck, and gave it to him.

  McCoy gave her an indulgent smile. “We’ll see.”

  He studied Savannah closely while she read through the letter he’d received from Rae Marie Hilton. McCoy was sure that she wasn’t aware of the gentle lift of her brows or the warm smile on her lips, indicating pleasure and high regard. At one point she gave him a covert silent glance, and he knew she’d gotten to the passage where Rae Marie mentioned her expectations for the future of their relationship. He gave nothing away when he met Savannah’s gaze. They hadn’t gotten that far, yet.

  “What a lovely letter,” Savannah sighed, folding the letter. Before handing it back she took a whiff of the delicate paper. “I think she sprayed it with perfume. That’s so sweet. I think she likes you, Mac.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever received a perfumed letter before. Definitely a custom I like,” he said, putting the letter away.

  “I got a letter, too,” Savannah said as she took a sip of her wine. They were sitting in the open-air garden of a restaurant that was buzzing with conversation and laughter from diners seated all around them.

  “Are you going to let me read it?”

  “I don’t think so. It’s a girl thing.”

  “That’s not fair, Vann. I showed you mine,” McCoy said, trying to sound aggrieved.

  “I know, and thank you very much,” she said in a soothing tone.

  He chuckled. “I’m going to remember this.” He reached for her hand, smoothing over the soft skin with the pad of his thumb. “I missed you today.”

  She grinned happily. “I’m here now. We spoke this morning.”

  He shook his head. “Not enough.”

  “We’ll have to do something about that,” she murmured playfully.

  “I’m counting on it,” Mac said, raising a brow. He cleared his throat. “Have you heard anything from Punch about your script?”

  “Actually, I put him onto Dominique Hamilton. She’s a black actress I think would be perfect for the movie. She’s interestd. But I’m also excited about the biography Rae Marie has consented to me writing about her life. She’s going to send me more materials.”

  “Do the one about your father first. It will be a great lead-in to the one about Rae Marie.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Savannah said, nodding. “I’m looking forward to seeing her again. The next time I’ll take a recorder. But I’d like to see more of the island.”

  “Did you like it there?”

  “Very much,” Savannah sighed. “It had a certain peace and quiet that’s hard to find.”

  “I actually have to go back over to the islands myself, day after tomorrow. I need to check out some property for a client. And I’m about to close on an investment I’m going into with two other partners. We’ve been negotiating for almost a year.”

  “I know it’s business, but I wish I could go with you,” She sighed and looked around.

  “You sound content.”

  “I am. It surprises me a little. I never thought I’d feel this away about L.A.”

  “Any particular reason?” McCoy asked nonchalantly.

  She gave him a sly look, her eyes sparkling, turning him on so suddenly that he felt like a kid with a crush. The feeling was thrilling, and scary. It had been so long since he’d been willing to let his guard down and open his heart, that the thought of losing Savannah made his palms instantly sweaty. Encountering her now seemed like a small miracle. He didn’t believe it could ever happen again.

  “One or two,” Savannah answered.

  Not caring that they were in a public place, not even particularly noticing at that moment, McCoy leaned farther across the table and kissed her. He was gratified by the sultry longing he saw in her eyes.

  “Mac,” she said softly.

  He wasn’t sure exactly what Savannah was acknowledging, but suddenly he wanted to be alone with her. He signaled for the waiter.

  “Are we leaving? We haven’t had dessert yet,” Savannah said.

  He handed the waiter his credit card. “I have something at my place I think you’ll like.”

  There was no need for him to tell her what and, fortunately, it seemed clear that she very much wanted the same thing.

  He didn’t bother turning on the lights. They got as far as the living room before he deftly spun Savannah half around and into the circle of his arms. She was waiting for him with parted lips and hurried breathing. The moist meshing of their lips and tongues made blood throb in his temples, his heart and groin. He rocked his arousal against Savannah, his stiff erection drawing a whispered moan from her.

  McCoy ran his hands down her thighs, gathering the material of her jersey dress until he reached the hem. He broke the kiss just long enough to pull it over her head. She kicked out of her sandals, and he made room for her hands to work on his belt and fly. He helped by quickly unbuttoning the shirt and shrugging out of it.

  “Am I going too fast?” McCoy growled against her mouth, their breaths rushing together in need and anticipation.

  “Am I?” Savannah asked in return.

  “I just feel like…” he started, and then struggled for words.
r />   What was he trying to say?

  Savannah looked up into his face with a knowing smile. She released her bra and circled him with her arms to press her chest against his, her nipples gently stabbing him. McCoy hugged her, burying his face against her neck.

  What was he trying to say?

  “Mac? I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here when you come back.”

  “I was just remembering what Rae Marie told us,” McCoy said, restlessly caressing her back, kissing her and cupping her breasts.

  “I know,” Savannah nodded. She kissed his chest. “If she’s right, if what she said was true, then we’re pretty lucky, don’t you think?” She began slowly walking backward, unerringly maneuvering them to his bedroom.

  He’d never felt so vulnerable, so wary of loss. When Savannah reached the edge of his bed she lowered herself, pulling him with her. His hands slipped into the elastic band of her bikini panties, tugging them down her legs as she positioned herself on the bed, willing, ready and able to give him what he didn’t even know he was looking for until meeting her. Until the magic of falling in love with Savannah.

  Nothing else matters, Rae Marie had said.

  McCoy knew she was right.

  Savannah was whispering in his ear, her breath sending a sensual signal down his spine as he settled between her legs. He drew a pillow under her hips to deepen the angle of his entry. She contracted around him, the exquisite pressure urging him into a rhythmic thrusting.

  As if sensing what he was going through, Savannah held him, encouraged him, with sudden tenderness.

  “Mac, it’s okay. Don’t worry. I’ll be here when you come back.”

  That’s what he wanted to hear.

  Chapter 14

  Savannah carefully carried the tray of drinks through the back door and out to the pool area. A small table was set up as a sideboard, with a round platter of fruit, cheese and crackers. The sun was hot and melting, but there was also a slight late-spring breeze that cut the effects of the heat in half. It was not, however, enough to stop Donna and Kay from their sunbathing routine. They both sat on the steps leading in or out of the pool, half in and half out of the water.

  They were in conversation with Carrie Spencer, who was seated in a lounge chair under the complete shade of a tree, a wide-brimmed straw hat and the kind of oversized dark glasses made popular decades earlier by the likes of Audrey Hepburn.

  In a lounger, also protected from the sun under a tree, Domino Hagan lay stretched out on her stomach, totally engrossed in a copy of Savannah’s script, Fade to Black. She was reading revisions suggested by Punch Wagoner and her own agent.

  “Iced tea, lemonade and sangria. Take your pick,” Savannah announced setting the tray down. “But you’ll have to serve yourselves. I’m off the clock,” she joked. Having said that, she selected a glass of tea and took it to Carrie.

  “You don’t have to treat me special,” Carrie laughed. “I would have gotten up like everybody else.”

  “I don’t mind,” Savannah said. “I’m so glad you decided to join us after all. And I wanted to show you that your African violet was alive and well,” she added, pointing to the potted plant that Carrie had left outside the yard months earlier. It had grown and blossomed, necessitating a bigger pot.

  “Will loved African violets. I don’t really know what made me leave it that day I came by. But I’m glad you’ve taken care of it.”

  “So, where is he?” Kay said, sipping her lemonade and pressing the cold glass against her cheeks.

  “Where’s who?” Savannah asked, leaving a frosty glass on the ground next to Domino’s chair and walking away.

  “McCoy Sutton. You think we don’t know what’s going on? You don’t even like L.A. and you manage to find one of the few eligible men in this town without issues,” Donna huffed.

  Kay and Carrie laughed.

  “Maybe you’re looking in all the wrong places,” Carrie suggested to Donna.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t work so hard at looking,” Kay added.

  Savannah glowed under all the implied compliments from her friends. “Maybe we should just leave McCoy out of this and enjoy each other.”

  “Where is he?” Kay asked.

  “He had business in Hawaii. He was supposed to return yesterday but he called to say he’ll be back tomorrow.”

  Donna and Kay exchanged looks and together responded. “Aaawww.”

  “That’s so sweet,” Donna said.

  “He called to say he’s going to be late,” Kay piped up.

  “Don’t laugh,” Carrie said serenely. “We should all be so lucky.”

  That caused an instant silence. Then, Donna and Kay sighed longingly.

  “Savannah, I need to talk to you.”

  Savannah turned to find Domino sitting up on the edge of her lounger. Her eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, but her voice and facial expression were otherwise very serious.

  “Sure. What about?”

  “Your story…”

  “Savannah, you forgot the napkins. Want me to get them?” Kay asked, standing and stepping out of the pool.

  “No, I’ll do it,” Savannah answered, heading for the kitchen. “Give me a minute,” she called out to Domino.

  By the time she returned less than a minute later, Donna and Kay were filling their small plastic plates from the platter. Carrie handed Savannah her empty glass.

  “I think I’m going to leave now. It’s getting late, I’ve probably had too much sun, and I want to avoid some of the afternoon traffic.”

  “So soon?” Savannah said with regret.

  She’d grown close to Carrie in the months since they’d finally met, finding the older woman strong, centered and filled with a kindness and wisdom that Savannah admired. It was not hard at all to see why her father had loved Carrie, and she was sorry that he had not seen his way clear to making her his wife. She now believed it would have been the absolute right thing for both of them.

  “Savannah?” Domino said again.

  “I’m sorry. Just another minute,” Savannah apologized to Domino once more, as she prepared to walk Carrie to her car.

  Farewells were exchanged, and Carrie thanked all the younger women for including her in their afternoon.

  “It’s hard to find this kind of friendship in L.A. Everyone always seem to have their own agenda,” Carrie said.

  “I’m so glad you came,” Savannah said, watching as Carrie got into her car and turned over her engine.

  “I’m so glad you invited me. Maybe you and your young man will join me for dinner soon? I’ll call you.”

  Savannah waved as the older woman drove away.

  She returned to the backyard and encountered Domino waiting for her, her glasses pushed to the top of her head, her eyes wide and anxious and excited.

  “Sorry ’bout that,” Savannah shook her head. “You wanted to tell me something?”

  “It’s about your script. It’s even better now.”

  Savannah smiled. “Thanks. It’s stronger, don’t you think?”

  “It’s great. And I’m doing it.”

  Savannah blinked. “Seriously?”

  “Yes,” Domino said, “I love it. It’s just the kind of challenging role I’ve been searching for since I got to L.A. I know this director who’s interested in working with me. Can I option the story from you?”

  Savannah tried to talk, but didn’t know what to say, Domino’s obvious excitement steamrolling over her in a rush of words and thoughts.

  “I…I don’t know. I should talk to Punch…”

  “Okay, he probably doesn’t know who I am. The thing is, I was born to play this part. I understand this character.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Donna asked, nibbling on a cheese-laden cracker as she wandered over to join the conversation.

  Savannah smiled ruefully. “Domino wants to do the script I wrote.”

  “It’s fabulous.”

  “Is it a musical?” Donna asked. “I’
m trying to get back into my dancing.”

  “Can I do the catering? I can cook for a cast of thousands,” Kay shouted across the yard.

  Savannah laughed even though she could tell that Domino was dead serious. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll take an option. I’ll have my agent call yours.”

  “Does this mean I have to throw you another party?” Donna asked.

  “If all goes well she’ll be able to buy some very expensive champagne,” Domino chuckled. “And a dress to wear to the Oscars.”

  McCoy disembarked and headed directly for the terminal exit. He had no checked luggage to wait for, having taken only a carry-on leather duffel and his laptop.

  He maneuvered LAX with the ease of someone who had left and arrived at the international airport so many times that he knew it by rote. The trip had taken two days longer than originally planned. He was tired and just wanted to get home, his mission accomplished.

  McCoy tuned out the public announcements of flights arriving and departing and the pages being made for individuals as he considered the satisfying results of his trip. There’d been no time to see Rae Marie Hilton again, but he had spoken to her. But most reassuring had been his late-night phone calls to Savannah. His longing, her words of love and their promises had been enough to convince him he’d done the right thing while on Kauai.

  He sidestepped a youngster running across his path and into the arms of a waiting relative. In doing so, McCoy realized that his name was being paged. Heading for the nearest information desk, he identified himself to the woman behind the microphone.

  “I heard my name. You have a message for me?”

  “Yes,” the woman said, leafing through several papers on her counter. She read from one. “There’s a car waiting for you. The driver is outside baggage claim.”

  He frowned. “Are you sure? I gave instructions to be met on the departure level.”

  “That’s the request I got. About five minutes before your flight landed.”