Once in a Lifetime

by Steel, Danielle

  "That figures. Probably tax law."

  "Film law, I think."

  "Oh, Jesus. He probably wears a business suit and gold chains."

  "Come on, Justin. Be nice."

  "Why? I think she's an uptight bitch. I don't like her."

  "She's a wonderful woman and you don't know her."

  "I don't want to."

  "It's entirely mutual, which is no secret. And I think you're both behaving like children."

  "She hates me." He sounded plaintive and Daphne smiled.

  "She doesn't hate you. She disapproves of you, and she doesn't really know you. She was very badly hurt a long time ago and it made her suspicious of men."

  "You can say that again." He had sensed her distrust of him, and it annoyed him. "I can't offer her a cup of coffee without her getting on my back." Daphne knew all about it, and she had already told Barbara to cool it. They didn't need feuds on the set. "Anyway, I'm glad you're alone. She protects you like the Vatican Guard whenever I'm around."

  "She's possessive, that's all. We've been through a lot together."

  "She acts like she thinks she's your mother."

  Daphne smiled. "Sometimes I could use one." She had had so much on her shoulders, alone, for such a long time, and Barbara was the only person in aeons that had eased at least some of the burdens.

  As she spoke he slid off the stool and came around the counter. He stood in front of her and took her face in his hands. "Daphne. You're a beautiful, desirable woman and I want you." She felt a wave of shock run through her and at the same time a long forgotten hunger between her legs.

  "Justin, don't be foolish." Her voice was soft and scared.

  "I'm not foolish." He looked hurt. "I've fallen for you like a ton of bricks, and you're playing this stupid game, hiding behind your walls. Why? Why won't you let me love you, Daff?" His eyes almost misted over and hers were huge in her face.

  "Justin, please ... we have to work together ... it would be a terrible mistake to--"

  "To what? To fall in love? Is that what you're afraid of? Why? We're two strong, intelligent, talented people. I can't think of a better combination. I've never met anyone like you, and you've probably never known anyone like me. Why would you pass that up? Who's keeping track of how hard you are on yourself? In the end you'll wake up one day an old woman and it'll be all over, and you can tell yourself that you've been faithful to the memory of two dead men. Why, Daphne ... why?" And then he leaned toward her and kissed her, covering her mouth with his own and forcing her lips open with his tongue until he probed inside her and she felt her breath quicken as he folded her in his arms. And then breathlessly she pulled away and stood up. She was tiny beside him, but she looked at him with imploring eyes.

  "Justin, please ... don't..."

  "I want you, Daff. And I'm not going to let you run away from this. I can't believe you don't feel anything for me. We understand each other too well. I understand every word you ever wrote, and I can see from the way you watch me work that you feel my work in your gut too."

  "What difference does that make?" She was still half angry, half frightened. He had shown up on her doorstep, kissed her, and now was trying to turn her life upside down. She wouldn't let him. It was dangerous. They were making a movie together, that was all. She didn't want to let her guard down. "What do you want out of me for chrissake? A quick lay? An affair for six months? There are ten million starlets in this town, Justin. Go fuck one." Her eyes filled with tears and she turned away. "And leave me the hell alone."

  "Is that what you want?"

  She nodded, her back still turned.

  "All right. But think over what I said. I don't just want a quick piece of ass, Daff. I can get that anytime I want, anywhere I want. But I can't have another woman like you. There is no one else like you. I know. I've looked around."

  She turned to face him then. "Then keep looking. You'll find one."

  "No, I won't." His eyes looked sad. He had finally found what he wanted, but she didn't want him. It wasn't fair, and he wanted her right there in her kitchen, but he wouldn't push her. He knew that that way he'd lose her forever. Maybe if he waited, there was a chance. "I want you to think over what I've said to you tonight, Daphne. We'll talk about it again."

  "No, we won't." She walked toward the front door with long strides and pulled it open for him. "Good night, Justin. I'll see you tomorrow on the set and I don't want to discuss this. Ever. Is that clear?"

  "You don't make all the rules, Daphne. Not for me." His eyes blazed at her for an instant and then the boyish twinkle shone through the anger.

  Daphne was not going to be swayed. "I make my own rules. And you can either respect them or stay away from me. Because I won't deal with you at all if you won't respect how I feel."

  "What you feel is all wrong."

  "You can't tell me that. I've made my own choices in life, and I live by them. I made up my mind a long time ago."

  "And you were wrong." He brushed her lips again with his then and he left, and as she shut the door behind him she leaned against it, her whole body trembling. And the most terrifying thing of all was that she believed in what she had told him, had for years, and yet her body had cried out for him each time he kissed her. But she didn't want to hurt again and love again and lose again. She wouldn't do it, no matter what he told her. But as she walked back into the kitchen she looked at where they had been sitting, and she felt her whole body begin to tremble again at the memory of his kiss, and with a moan of anguish she took his empty beer bottle and threw it against the wall.

  How was the party last night?" Daphne tried to look casual as they sat at the empty table at the commissary. Everyone else had finished early and gone back to the set and they were suddenly left alone. But Justin's eyes looked haunted as they met hers.

  "I didn't go."

  "Oh. That's too bad." She tried to change the subject. "I thought the scene went pretty well today."

  "I didn't." He pushed away his plate and looked at her. "I couldn't think straight. You drove me nuts last night." She didn't tell him that she had also lain awake half the night, fighting what she was feeling, and wondering if he would call. She had insanely mixed emotions about him, and it was the vehemence of them that upset her most. She didn't want to feel any of what she was feeling. She had never wanted to feel any of it ever again. "How can you do this to us?" He looked like a small boy robbed of Christmas, but she put down her sandwich and glared at him.

  "I'm not doing anything to 'us,' Justin. There is no 'us,' for chrissake. Don't create something that will only make life more complicated for both of us in the end."

  "What the hell are you talking about? What's so complicated? You're available, I'm searching. So what's your problem, lady? I'll tell you what it is." He was speaking to her in a hoarse whisper and she hoped that no one overheard, but there was plenty of activity around them, and no one seemed to be watching, much to her relief. "Your problem is that you're too fucking scared to let yourself feel again. You've got no balls left. You must have had them once, because I can see it in your books. But now suddenly you don't have the courage to come out from behind your walls and be a woman. And you know what? It's going to show up in your writing sooner or later if you don't watch out. You can't lead the life you do and expect to remain human. You won't. Maybe you already aren't. Maybe I'm just in love with an illusion ... a fiction ... a dream. ..."

  "You don't even know me. How can you be in love with me?"

  "You think I don't see you? You think I don't hear you in your books? You think I don't understand Apache? What do you think I'm doing up there every day? I'm living out the whispers of your soul. Baby, I know you. Oh, yes, I know you. It's you who don't know yourself. You don't want to. You don't want to remember who you are, or what you are, that you're a woman, and a damn fine one, with real needs, and a heart and a soul, and even a body, that's just as hungry for mine as mine is for yours. But at least I'm honest. I know what I want and who
I am, and I'm not afraid to go after it. Thank God for that." And with that he stood up and walked away from the table, slammed the door to the commissary, and stalked back to the set. And as Daphne followed him a few minutes later she had to smile to herself. Not many women in the country had the guts to turn down Justin Wakefield. It was funny and sad all at the same time.

  She watched him work on the same scene over and over and over again that afternoon and evening and well into that night. Howard Stern was shouting at everyone; he even had her make several changes in the scene to see if it would work. But the problem was not with her writing, it was with Justin's mood. She could tell that he was desperately unhappy, and it was as though he wanted the whole world to know it.

  And at last, at ten o'clock that night, seventeen hours after they'd all shown up for work that morning, Howard Stern threw down his hat with disgust. "I don't know what's wrong with you bastards today, but this whole day has been shot. Wakefield, get over your sniveling moods and long face. I want everyone back here at five o'clock tomorrow morning, and whatever the problem is, you'd better fucking work it out." It was the last they heard from him before he left, and Justin slammed into his dressing room without giving Daphne a second glance. But he made sure to walk directly past her, so that she could see how rotten he felt.

  She walked silently back to the limo with Barbara and lay back against the seat with an exhausted sigh.

  "Nice day, huh?" Barbara smiled as they wended their way home, but Daphne wasn't in the mood to talk. She was thinking about Justin, and wondering if she was wrong.

  The next day was scarcely better, only this time she and Justin didn't speak at all. Howard let them off the set that night at seven thirty. He said he'd had enough of all of them to last him for a year.

  But the next day it was as though there was magic in the air. When Justin arrived on the set, there was something hungry and angry and soulful burning in his eyes, and he tore everyone's guts out with his performance. At the end of a four-hour stretch with scarcely any retakes, Howard rushed over and kissed him on both cheeks, and the whole crew gave a cheer. For whatever reason, Justin had revived, and Daphne felt less guilty as she strolled over to the commissary for lunch. She was surprised when he sat down at her table, and she looked at him with a shy smile.

  "You did a beautiful job today, Justin." She didn't ask what had changed his mood, but whatever it was, she was glad it had happened.

  "I had to. I felt I owed it to Howard. I was making everyone pay for what I felt."

  She nodded, looking first at her plate and then at him. "I'm sorry I upset you."

  "So am I. But I happen to think you're worth it." She wanted to cry as he said it. She had been hoping that he'd given up. "But if this is the way you want it, Daff, I guess I'll have just to accept it. May I be your friend?" He said it with such humility and tenderness that tears filled her eyes and she reached for his hand and held it in one of her own.

  "You already are my friend, Justin. And I know I'm not easy to understand, but a lot of very painful things have happened in my life. I can't help that. Just accept me as I am. It will be easier for both of us."

  "That's hard for me to do, but I'll try."

  "Thank you."

  "I can't stop what I feel, though." She still felt that he didn't know her, and it made her unhappy that he was being so tenacious, but maybe that was just the way he was, and if they were truly going to be friends, then she had to accept him, too.

  "I'll try to respect that."

  "And I'll respect you." And then he chuckled and whispered, "But I still think you're crazy." She laughed at the look on his face then and she couldn't help telling him of what she had thought the other day.

  "Do you realize that I'm probably the only woman in America who would keep you out of her bed?"

  "You want a presidential award for it?" He looked amused and she laughed.

  "Are you giving one out?"

  "Hell, why not, if it'll make you happy." And then they went back to talking about the making of the movie, but that night he showed up on her doorstep with a plaque he'd had made by the guys in the prop room. It was a bronze plaque, carefully mounted, and exquisitely engraved. It was a presidential award to Miss Daphne Fields, for bravery above and beyond the call of duty, in keeping Justin Wakefield out of her bed. She roared with laughter when she saw it, kissed him on the cheek, and invited him in for a beer.

  "You wanted a plaque, so I took you at your word."

  She propped it up on the kitchen counter and handed him a glass and a beer. "Have you eaten?"

  "I had a hamburger after work. How about a swim in your pool?" It was already eight o'clock, but it was a beautiful night and Daphne was tempted.

  "Can I trust you?"

  "What? Not to pee in your pool?" For a man of his age he was more like a boy than an adult, but she liked that about him. It was refreshing at times, and sometimes it drove her crazy.

  "You know what I mean, Wakefield." She looked at him sternly.

  "Yes, I do, Fields." He returned the look with mock grimness. And then he laughed. "Yes, you can trust me. Christ, you're a twit, Daff. You put a hell of a lot of effort into stifling your feelings. Is anything worth that much trouble?"

  "Yes." She smiled at him. "I think so."

  "Well, no one can say you're easy. At least I can't." And then with a sad, lonely look on his face, "Or is it just me?"

  "Oh, Justin"--she didn't want him to believe that-- "of course not, you dummy. I've just lived this way for a long time, and I'm happy like this. I don't want to change that."

  "I got the message."

  "I got the plaque." She smiled at him gently, and then waved toward her bedroom. "I'll go put my bathing suit on." She put on a modest navy blue bikini, and when she came out, he was already in the pool.

  "The water is fabulous." He dove deeper into the pool and she could vaguely glimpse that he had a white suit on, and she dove in neatly, and met him at the bottom of the pool. It was then that she realized that the white suit was only the small strip of flesh on his buttocks devoid of suntan, and when they came to the surface she looked at him in disapproval.

  "Justin, it's about your suit..."

  "I don't like to wear one. Do you mind?"

  "Do I have a choice?"

  "No." He grinned happily and dove again, tickling her feet as he went, and then he came up like a dolphin and he grabbed her and pulled her down with him. She resisted, pulling against him. He playfully pulled back. For ten minutes they played the game until finally Justin slowed down.

  "Do you always have this much energy after work?"

  "Only when I'm happy."

  "You know, for a grown man you act like a little kid."

  "Thank you." No one would have guessed that he was over forty, but Daphne had to admit that in his company she felt younger too. "You know, you look great in a bikini, Daff. But you'd look better without one."

  "Don't be a pest." She swam a few laps then and slowly climbed the ladder and got out of the pool. And as she wrapped herself in a towel she turned her back, having noticed that he was getting out of the pool too. "There's a towel on the chair."

  "Thanks." But when she turned around, he hadn't used it. Instead, he stood before her in all his dripping naked beauty with the moonlight above them and a sky filled with stars. They said not a word for an endless moment, and he took one step forward and took her in his arms. He kissed her with all the gentleness of his childlike soul, and he held her, and she felt him tremble as she did, not sure if it was from desire or the cold. And for reasons she couldn't explain to herself as she stood there, she let him hold her, and felt her mouth respond to his as they kissed. It seemed hours before he turned away from her, and wrapped himself tightly in the towel she had provided, hoping to quell the ardor that had sprung to him. "I'm sorry, Daff." It was the voice of a small boy as he stood with his back turned to her, and she wasn't quite sure what to say. She had wanted him very badly for a moment,
and she touched his back gently with her hand.

  "Justin ... it's all right ... I ..." He turned to face her then and their eyes met.

  "I want you, Daphne. I know you don't want to hear it. But I love you."

  "You're crazy. You're a wild, crazy boy in the body of a man." And once again she remembered Howard's warning ... remember that actors are children. And Justin was. Or was he? He didn't look like one now as he took a step toward her and held her face in his hands.

  "I love you. Can you really not believe that?"

  "I don't want to believe it."

  "Why not?"

  "Because if I do believe it"--she hesitated, her whole body trembling in the warm air--"and I let myself love you too ... one day we'll get hurt and I don't want that."

  "I won't hurt you. Ever. I swear that."

  She sighed and leaned her head against his naked chest as he folded her into his arms. "That's something no one can promise."

  "I'm not going to die like the others, Daff. You can't be afraid of that forever."

  "I'm not. I'm just afraid of losing what I love ... of hurting and getting hurt..."

  He pulled her away from him then and looked into her eyes so she could see his, just as she did with Andrew when she wanted him to read her lips.

  "You won't get hurt, Daff. Trust me." She wanted to ask him why but she could no longer fight it, the words didn't sound right anymore. Not even to her. She let him kiss her and hold her, and a little while later he carried her into her bedroom, and they lay on her bed and made love until dawn. They got up together the next morning, and he made her coffee and toast and they stood in the shower, kissing and laughing, and Daphne could no longer remember why she had fought so hard and so long to stay alone.

  And when Barbara came home from Tom's at five o'clock to go to the studio with Daphne, there was shock in her eyes when she found Justin in the kitchen in his white jeans and bare feet.