Once in a Lifetime

by Steel, Danielle

  "Awful little, aren't you? But good-looking, damn good-looking." And then he bent toward her, whispering to her with a smile, "You ought to be in the movie."

  "Oh, God, no!" She held up a hand in protest, laughing. He was an amazing-looking man, well into his sixties with a face full of lines, hard won, hard earned, and somehow his face looked better for them. He wasn't a handsome man, and had been even less so in his early years, but Daphne instantly liked him. And she sensed that he liked her.

  "Excited about your first film, Miss Fields?" He waved toward two chairs and they sat down together, his enormous frame filling his chair, and hers looking almost childlike as she looked at him and smiled again.

  "Yes, very excited, Mr. Stern."

  "So am I. I liked your book. In fact, I liked it a great deal. It's going to make one hell of a movie. And I like your script." And then with a noncommittal look, "Justin Wakefield does too. Have you met him before?" He eyed Daphne, thinking his own thoughts.

  "No, I haven't met him yet."

  He nodded slowly. "Interesting man. Intelligent, for an actor. But don't forget that's what he is." He looked her over appraisingly. "They're all the same. I know from years of working with them. There's a piece missing from them all, and something extra added, something childlike and free and wonderful. They're hard to resist. But they're selfish and spoiled and egocentric. They don't give a damn how you are, most of them, they only care how they are. It'll shock you when you first see it, but if you watch them closely, you'll see a similarity of character. After a while it's all very clear. There are exceptions of course"--he named a few, names she had heard of and seen on the screen--"but they're rare. The rest are ..."He hesitated and smiled, as though he knew a secret she did not, but would learn soon. "Well... they're actors. Remember that, Miss Fields, it will help you to keep your sanity in the next months. They'll drive you crazy, and me too. But in the end we'll have a remarkable picture, and it will all be worthwhile, we'll all hold hands and cry and kiss good-bye. And the fights will be forgotten/the jealousies, the feuds. We'll remember the jokes, the laughs, the extraordinary moments. There's a kind of magic to all this...." He waved an arm, taking in the entire stage with a majestic sweep. And then he stood up, and bowed, and his eyes laughed into hers, and off he went to confer with his cameramen again. Daphne felt more than a little in awe of him and the entire scene, and she sat watching silently as grips and extras and wardrobe people and sound men and lighting engineers came and went, performing mysterious tasks, until at last at seven thirty there was a sudden stir, a heightened sense of tension all around them, and she correctly sensed that they were about to begin.

  Almost at the very moment that the flurry of activity seemed greatest, she noticed a man leave a dressing room in a T-shirt and a parka, sneakers and no socks, his thick blond hair falling across his forehead in a boyish way. He sauntered toward her looking tentative and shy, and then eventually sat down in the chair Howard Stern had sat in long before. He glanced at Daphne, at the set, and then back to her, looking taut and nervous, and she smiled at him, knowing just how he felt and wondering who he was.

  "Exciting, isn't it?" It was the only thing she could think of to say and he looked amused as she gazed into deep sea-green eyes. There was something familiar about him and she wasn't sure what.

  "Yeah, I guess it is. I always get sick to my stomach just before we start. Occupational hazard, I guess." He shrugged and reached into his pocket for a piece of candy, popped it into his mouth, and then with a look of embarrassment for being rude, dug into his pocket again and held one out to her.

  "Thank you." Their eyes met again and she felt a blush creep into her cheeks at his appraising glance.

  "Are you an extra in this one?"

  "No." She shook her head, not quite sure what to say. She didn't want to tell him she wrote it, it sounded so pompous, and he didn't pry. He seemed too busy watching the preparations on the set, and then nervously he got up and walked away.

  When he reappeared, he looked down at her with a boyish smile. "Can I get you something to drink?" She was touched. Barbara had disappeared twenty minutes before in search of two cups of coffee. They had momentarily run out on the set, and she felt useless standing there. But now Daphne nodded.

  "Sure. Thanks. I'd give my right arm for a cup of coffee." The set was cool and drafty and she was tired.

  "I'll bring you one. Cream and sugar?" She nodded and he reappeared a moment later carrying two large steaming mugs. Nothing had ever looked so good. She took hers and sipped it slowly, wondering when they would begin, and when she glanced at her benefactor he was looking at her again with those startling green eyes. "You're beautiful, do you know that?" She blushed again and he smiled. "And shy. I love women like that." And then he rolled his eyes and laughed at himself. "That's a dumb thing to say, it sounds like I audition them by the hundred every day."

  "Doesn't everyone here?" They both laughed this time and he seemed intrigued by her. He could see in her eyes that she was bright and quick, not the kind of woman you could fool, or would want to. He liked her and wondered again who she was.

  "No, not everyone here does that. There are still some decent people in this town, even in this business ... maybe." He smiled, sipped his hot coffee, and then set the mug down. "I'm curious about you, miss. What are you doing on this set?"

  It was time to tell the truth. "I wrote the screenplay, but this is the first one I've done. So it's all new to me."

  At that he looked even more intrigued. "Then you're Daphne Fields." He seemed impressed. "I've read all your books, and like this one best of all."

  "Thank you." She looked pleased. "And now I

  get to ask the same question. What are you doing

  here?" But at that he threw back his head and

  laughed, a wondrous golden sound, and then he

  looked at her again, and with one hand swept the

  blond mane back from his face and smiled and

  suddenly she knew and she was stunned. He was every

  bit as beautiful as he had been in all his films, but he

  looked so different here, so out of place, so unassuming

  in his old parka and worn jeans. "Oh, my

  "God"

  "No, not quite." They both laughed then. He knew she knew. He was Justin Wakefield. He held out a hand to shake hers, and as their hands met, their eyes held, there was a kind of magic to the man, a childlike glee, a magnetism in his eyes that held one spellbound for a moment before letting go. "I am performing in your movie, madam. And I hope very much that you'll be pleased with my performance."

  "I'm sure I will." She smiled at him now. "I was so happy when you took the part."

  "So was I," he admitted frankly. "It's the best damn part I've had in years." She beamed. "You write like a demon."

  "You're not half bad yourself." Her eyes said that she was teasing him, and a little voice inside her whispered that she was playing with America's favorite movie idol. It was a heady feeling sitting here beside him. And for some reason she couldn't explain, for the first time in a long time she felt like a woman, not a work horse or just a writer, or even Andrew's mother. But a woman. She had caught his attention, she sensed it in the way he talked to her. But it had been so long since she had related to a man, except to discuss Andrew with Matthew, that she wasn't sure what to say. Feeling nervous, she fell back on her work. It made her feel safe. And she didn't feel entirely safe with this man. He was watching her too closely and she was afraid she'd say too much. Maybe he would see the loneliness she always camouflaged so well, or the aching void left in her soul when John died.

  "What do you think of the script?"

  "I like it, very much in fact. Howard and I had a meeting about it yesterday. There's only one scene so far that doesn't work for me."

  "Which one?" She looked suddenly worried but his eyes were kind as he reached into her chair and took the copy of the script that Barbara had left there.

&nbs
p; "Not to worry. It's a small scene." He flipped the pages, and obviously knew the script well, and pointed to the part he hadn't liked. She glanced at it, nodded, and was frowning when she looked up at him again.

  "You may be right. I wasn't sure about that myself."

  "Well, let's wait and see what Howard says. We're both going to be making a lot of changes and adjustments before we're through. Have you ever seen him work?" She shook her head and he laughed. "You're in for a treat. And don't let the old bastard scare you. He has a heart of gold"--he smiled impishly at her--"and a mouth full of nails. You'll get used to it after a while. We all do. And it's worth it, the man is an absolute genius. You'll learn something from him. I've worked with him twice before, and each time he gave me something different. You're lucky that he's directing Apache. We all are." And then, his eyes seeming to caress her face, he whispered to her, "But we're even luckier to have you." And with a smile that seemed almost a kiss, he left her then, to go into his dressing room to change, and at that moment Barbara reappeared.

  "I can't find any goddamn coffee."

  "Never mind. Someone else got me some." But Daphne still looked vague. Justin Wakefield was the most extraordinary man, and she wasn't sure if she liked him or not. He was obviously bright, extremely playful, handsome as hell, amusing at times, but she found it impossible to decide if he was real. How could anyone that beautiful be real?

  "You look like you've just seen a vision."

  "I think I have. I've been talking to Justin Wakefield."

  "What's he like?" Barbara sat down in the empty chair, trying not to look impressed, but she was. She had been dying to meet him and hadn't as yet noticed him on the set. "Is he as gorgeous as he looks on the screen?"

  Daphne laughed. "I'm not sure. He's awfully handsome, but I didn't even recognize him when he sat down next to me."

  "How come?"

  "He just looked like some kid. I guess I was expecting something different." Daphne smiled at her secretary and friend.

  "Are you telling me I'm going to be disappointed?" She looked crushed.

  "I wouldn't say that." Hardly, with those looks. And as she sat lost in her own thoughts about him she saw him emerge from his dressing room in the soft caramel-colored skintight suede pants the early moments of the movie demanded, with a white turtleneck sweater, and he looked like a young, blond Marlon Brando, and Daphne heard Barbara catch her breath.

  "Oh, my God, he's gorgeous!" Barbara whispered and Daphne smiled as she looked at him. He certainly was in that outfit. He was breathtaking as his muscles rippled while he walked toward them, his hair was smoothed back now as Daphne had seen it before in movies, and he looked like Justin Wakefield, the actor, not the impish boy who had offered her a mug of coffee on the set.

  He walked straight toward Daphne and stopped beside her chair with a warm smile. "Hello, Daphne.' His mouth seemed to caress her name.

  "Hello." Daphne smiled, trying to look more composed than she felt. "I'd like you to meet my assistant, Barbara Jarvis. Barbara, this is Justin Wakefield." He shook Barbara's hand with a warm smile, and then turned and saluted Daphne before going off to join Howard Stern and begin shooting, as Barbara sat gaping at him and Daphne leaned toward her with a grin. "Close your mouth, Barb. You're drooling."

  "Jesus Christ. He's unbelievable looking." She couldn't stop staring at him, and Daphne first looked at him and then at Barbara's reaction. He certainly had an effect on women. That much she was sure of, and she had to admit that she was feeling it herself. It was hard not to.

  "Yes, he is. But there's more to life than being pretty." She sounded very old and wise and Barbara laughed at her.

  "Oh, yeah. Like what?"

  "Like Tom Harrington, or do I need to remind you?" Barbara blushed as she grinned.

  "All right, all right."

  "How's that going, by the way?"

  Barbara sighed and looked dreamy for a moment. "He's the most wonderful man, Daff. I love him, and I love his children." But there seemed to be more she wasn't saying.

  "So? What's the problem?"

  "There is none." Barbara smiled at her. "I've never been happier in my life, except when I remind myself that one of these days we'll be going back to New York."

  "Not for a while, so enjoy it while you have it. Don't spoil your fun by worrying about six months from now, for heaven's sake. Things like this don't happen every day." She smiled at her gently. For Barbara it had never happened before. At forty, she was deeply in love with the right man for the first time in her life.

  "That's what Tom said right from the beginning. Something like this only happens once in a lifetime, so we'd better grab it while we've got it."

  Daphne looked distant and sad for a moment. "Jeff said that to me once, right after we first met. ..." Her mind drifted off as she thought about her husband and then she looked back at Barbara. "He was right. Other things come your way, and each moment, each experience, is different. Each one only happens once. And if you let the moment pass you by, it's gone forever." She had almost let that happen with John, and had always been grateful that she hadn't. And then she forced her mind from the past back to the present. "Even this, Barb. Even this crazy movie we're making. There will never be a first movie for me again, there will never be another first time in California for you ... we might as well enjoy it, because it's all pretty damn special. You never know what's just around the corner, or who." And for some reason she looked at Justin Wakefield as she said it, and he turned as though he felt her eyes on him. He stopped what he was doing and looked straight at her, and she felt an almost involuntary reaction run up her spine. His eyes bore into hers and she felt herself held by his magnetic gaze.

  The making of the movie began at nine fifteen, and by noon the first scene had been shot twice. Howard Stern had roared at the grips and called Justin a flaming asshole, Maureen Adams had burst into tears and insisted she was still sick, and the studio men had disappeared as Daphne and Barbara watched the whole production in fascination. The hairdresser assured them that all of this was normal, and when lunchtime was called, everyone seemed to be friends again. Howard Stern put an arm around Justin, told him he was pleased, and pinched Maureen Adams's behind as she walked past. She didn't seem to mind. She blew Howard a kiss and handed a tightly rolled joint to Justin before going to her dressing room to lie down. Daphne was standing alone by then. Barbara had gone to call Tom.

  "Well, what do you think about your first morning?" Justin came directly toward her and stood in his full, extravagant beauty just before her in his tight suede pants. She tried not to let herself be overwhelmed by the attraction she felt for him.

  "I am beginning to strongly suspect that you're all crazy." She grinned at him, trying to look aloof but not succeeding. There was something so damnably beautiful about the man.

  "I could have told you that much before. How did you like the scene?"

  "It looked fine to me the first time." She was sincere as she said it. It had looked fine to her.

  "It wasn't. Howard was right. I had to get angry and I wasn't. We're going to try it again at the end of the day and we're going to start off this afternoon with the scene with Maureen in her apartment." It was a nude scene for both of them and Daphne looked startled even though she had written it. But it came much later in the film and seemed as though it would be difficult to do right after the opening scene, totally out of context. "Don't look so shocked, kid. You wrote it." He seemed amused.

  "I know. But how does that work out of context?"

  "The whole shoot is out of context. We just do it scene by scene, according to some masterful and insane plan in Howard's head, and then later they cut it all up like spaghetti and splice it all together and somehow it works. It's a crazy business." But it didn't seem to bother him much. And he looked as though he was more interested in Daphne than his work.

  "You did a hell of a good job, you know, Daff."

  His eyes caressed her again.

  "T
hank you."

  "Can I interest you in some rotten commissary lunch?"

  She started to tell him that she was going to have lunch with her assistant and then she realized that Barbara would probably die to sit near Justin Wakefield for an entire meal.

  "Yes, if I can bring my assistant."

  "Sure. I'll go change my clothes. I'll be back in a minute." He disappeared into his dressing room, still carrying the joint Maureen had given him and she felt herself wondering if he was going to smoke it now or later, as Barbara returned from calling Tom.

  "I just made us a lunch date." Daphne looked as though she had mischief up her sleeve.

  "With whom?"

  "With Justin. All right with you?"

  Barbara gasped and Daphne laughed out loud. "Are you kidding?"

  "Nope." And just as she said the word Justin strode out of his dressing room, dressed in his blue jeans and sneakers. He was still wearing makeup and had his hair combed back. This time Daphne would have recognized him, unlike their first meeting that morning, and he looked almost as handsome as he had in the white sweater and suede pants.

  "Ready, ladies?" Daphne nodded and Barbara simply stared and they followed him to the enormous commissary building, where they found themselves with cowboys and Indians, two southern belles and a whole army of German soldiers, as well as two midgets and a flock of little boys.

  Barbara looked around and started laughing. "You know what? This looks like the circus!" And suddenly Justin and Daphne were laughing too. They ate hamburgers that tasted like rocks and the ketchup looked like red paint, and then Justin brought them both apple pie and coffee. And it seemed only moments later when they were back on the set, and Justin had disappeared into his dressing room.

  Barbara pulled up a chair beside Daphne, and as they waited for the action to begin, Barbara found herself thinking about Justin. It was easy to discern that he was attracted to Daphne, but despite his good looks, Barbara didn't think she liked him. There was something childlike and self-centered about the man, and she had noticed that every time they passed a mirror or window in which he could see himself, he ran a hand over his hair, or looked himself in the eye. It annoyed her, but she also had the unmistakable feeling that Daphne liked him.