by Susan Lewis
She could only be here for one night, as pressure of work in LA meant she had to fly back the following afternoon and now, considering how late Michael was, she was beginning to wonder if there was much point in her coming at all.
Struggling to contain her irritation, she stirred her drink, took a sip then attempted to carry on with the synopsis. It was a great story, one she wouldn’t mind producing herself – in fact, she might just talk it over with Elwin when she got back to LA. She’d have liked to discuss it with Michael, but guessed by the time he got there he would be so full of what was happening with World Wide, and the changes taking place at McCann Walsh over in London, he’d forget to ask how she was, never mind what she was doing. Except that wasn’t fair, for he’d never yet failed to show an interest in her life, or her family, or the day-to-day trivia and triumphs of her job; it was just their relationship and the future he had a problem with. Nothing was ever mentioned about that, except to work out when they could next be in New York together or how she was fixed for a couple of weeks’ vacation in March.
Turning over a page she swept a hand through her hair and began to chew on a hangnail. They’d been going on like this for almost six months now, either meeting up here or in LA, snatching a few hectic days together, then parting for another three or four weeks until they could manage to squeeze a little more time from their schedules. When they were together – and not jet-lagged – everything was perfect, from their love-making, to their ability to make each other laugh, to the interest they took in each other’s lives, to their frustration and sadness when it was time to leave. The trouble was the unsatisfactoriness of it all never seemed to bother him as much as it did her. In fact, she often wondered if he wouldn’t be happy for things to continue the way they were for ever. And she could hardly be blamed for thinking that way when he rarely, if ever, mentioned anything about her going to London now, either for a visit or to live, and when he seemed so hell bent on finding another agent to represent World Wide in LA.
Despite her anger she could feel a horrible weight descending over her heart, for she was going to lose him and she knew it. She couldn’t say how she knew, but at times the feeling was so strong it was as though they had already said goodbye. She didn’t even want to think about what she would do when the time finally came, for he had become so much a part of her life now, was the source of so many of her hopes and dreams, that even as she sat there waiting for him she could feel herself becoming swamped by all the panic and pain she just knew was out there waiting.
She looked up as the door opened and her heart turned over as he came in from the freezing, windy night, his coat unbuttoned, his scarf wet from the rain and hanging loosely around his collar. He had obviously been running, knowing he was late and now, as his handsome face softened with typical, ironic humour at sight of her, despite her own smile, she almost wanted to cry. How, she wondered, as he weaved a path through the empty tables towards her, was she ever going to stop loving him?
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, leaning over and kissing her on the mouth. ‘Have you been waiting long?’
‘I got here early,’ she answered. ‘You’re cold.’
‘It’s cold out,’ he said, handing his coat and scarf to the waiter and sitting down opposite her. His blue eyes were curious as they scanned her face in a way she had come to love, then, reaching for her hand he said, ‘I was thinking about you on the way over here. Shall I tell you what I was thinking?’
She nodded.
‘I was thinking what a difference it makes to the day when I know I’m going to see you at the end of it.’
Her heart caught on his words and as she looked at him she was torn between hope and despair, for he had said so many things like it before and never yet had they been taken any further. ‘I feel the same way,’ she said softly.
He continued to gaze into her eyes and the pressure of his fingers on her palm began to kindle her desire. But she tried to fight it, knowing that if she didn’t it would weaken her resolve and yet another opportunity to discuss their future would pass.
‘You look lovely,’ he told her. ‘Is it for my benefit, or did you have a meeting before you came here?’
Ellen’s eyes started to dance. ‘I spoke to you from the bath an hour ago,’ she reminded him, ‘so it’s all for you.’
The waiter arrived and handing them a menu each, took Michael’s order for a gin and tonic.
‘So how was your day?’ she asked, as they scanned the entrées.
‘OK,’ he answered. ‘Pretty good, in fact. But the big news is over in London. Paul Patton, the script guy from the BBC I told you about?’
Ellen nodded.
‘He’s going to join us.’
Ellen managed to look pleased. ‘That’s great,’ she said. ‘As a partner?’
‘Yep, so he and Zelda will be pretty much running the shop while I concentrate on World Wide. Did I tell you Sandy Paull got wind of him coming and tried to entice him away?’
‘You’re kidding,’ Ellen cried. ‘When did you hear that?’
‘Patton told me himself a couple of hours ago on the phone. She was offering a damned good deal as well, so we can think ourselves lucky he turned her down.’
‘But how did she find out you were after him?’
‘Jodi told her,’ he answered. ‘I thought it would be as well for her to try to get him before he joined us, rather than after; that way, if he was going to go we wouldn’t need to put ourselves to the bother of hiring him.’
‘Or to the public ignominy of losing yet another agent to Sandy Paull,’ Ellen added wryly.
‘There’s that too,’ he grinned. ‘Anyway, he joins us next month and Angela Siddall, the agent from Shine Connell whom Zelda wants, might be with us by June, meaning there’s a chance we’ll be up to strength again before summer. We need to be because we’ve got a small fortune staked in World Wide and it’s going to be a while before it can take over its own debts. What are you having to eat?’
‘The fish special, I think. What about you?’
‘I’ll have the duck.’ He closed the menu and laid it to one side. ‘So, what’s been happening to you?’ he said. ‘You said on the phone you wanted to talk something over.’
She took a breath, but already a small hollow had opened up inside her, draining her courage away. She despised her own weakness, but she didn’t want to see his expression change, or feel him withdraw from her or hear him tell her she had got it wrong about their level of commitment. So instead she said, ‘I’ve got a meeting scheduled with Ted Forgon next week. I’m going to give him notice.’
Michael’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Are you serious?’ he said. ‘When did you decide?’
She shrugged. ‘A couple of days ago. I figured I’d been putting it off long enough and it’s time I had enough faith in myself to go it alone. Of course, I’ve got no idea what he’s going to do, you know, about the photographs and everything. I guess I’ll just have to cross that bridge when I come to it.’
Michael’s voice was dark as he said, ‘If he threatens to publish any more,’ he said, ‘then remember, I know things about him that he very definitely won’t want made public.’
Ellen’s head went to one side. ‘Like what?’ she said.
‘Another time,’ he answered.
She considered pushing it, but knowing she probably wouldn’t get anywhere, she waited until the waiter had taken their orders, then said, ‘Did I tell you he’s been warning me about you?’
Michael’s hand stopped in mid-air and putting his drink back down he said, ‘You’ve discussed me with Forgon?’
‘Not exactly. But he knows we’re seeing each other and he insists he doesn’t want me to get hurt.’
Michael’s face darkened. ‘Well, that’s rich, coming from a man who’s prepared to splash private photographs of you all over the press,’ he declared. ‘And besides, wasn’t he the one who wanted you to seduce me into giving up London for LA?’
‘Whi
ch I’ve obviously failed to do,’ Ellen remarked, drily.
Michael looked at her, then, obviously deciding not to pursue that, said, ‘What makes Forgon think you’ll get hurt?’
Ellen shrugged. ‘He didn’t say.’
Michael’s mood was changing. ‘Then maybe you’d like to tell him to keep his damned nose out of our affairs,’ he snapped.
‘OK,’ Ellen agreed, ‘I’ll tell him that the next time the subject comes up.’
Michael was silent for a while, obviously still angry at what Forgon had said, but not quite sure which way to handle it without getting himself into a conversation Ellen knew he was loath to have.
‘You know what intrigues me,’ she said, forcing herself past the frustration, ‘is what’s happened to his obsession with you? There was a time when he could hardly think about anything else except destroying you, yet now it’s like he’s mellowed out on it, like it’s no big deal what you do or where you go and that’s not the Ted Forgon I know.’
Michael shrugged. ‘The man came face to face with his own mortality not so long ago,’ he reminded her. ‘That can have a sobering effect on a person.’
‘True, but it was after his heart attack that he sent me over to London, so …’
‘So?’ Michael prompted.
‘I was wondering if he hasn’t found some other way of getting even with you, one that’s going to come at you from the left side and … Well, I don’t know what the effect might be, but you said yourself, McCann Walsh is in a pretty vulnerable state right now thanks to World Wide and if Forgon’s managed to get ahold of that …’
Michael was looking thoughtful. ‘Even if he has I don’t see how he can do us much harm,’ he said in the end, ‘not unless he manages to sneak his way into World Wide by using some other agent as his Trojan Horse. But that’s something we’ve already considered, which is why the LA agents we’ve been seeing go through such a thorough screening before the rest of us even get to hear about them.’ He looked at her closely. ‘Why, have you heard something?’ he said.
‘No, I was just curious that he doesn’t show so much interest in you now, when you’d have expected him to be on my case daily, once he found out about us.’ She sat back as the waiter brought their food and was about to speak again when her cellphone rang. ‘Sorry, I meant to turn it off,’ she said, digging around in her bag.
‘Don’t mind me,’ Michael responded, reaching into his inside pocket, ‘I’ve got a few faxes here I need to take a look at.’
‘Hello, Ellen Shelby,’ she said into the phone.
‘Ellen, it’s Nancy, your secretary,’ the voice came down the line.
Ellen smiled. ‘You might only have been with me for a week, Nancy,’ she said, ‘but I know who you are. What can I do for you?’
‘OK, you ready for this?’
Ellen winced and it was ten minutes or more before she finished dealing with the day’s crises as they were unfolding in LA. ‘OK,’ she said, as Nancy gave her the last problem, ‘you’ll have to take that one to Ted. Better still, talk to Rosa and let her take it to Ted. Anything else?’
‘No, that’s it. Oh, except there’s a message here from someone called Sandy Paull. She wants you to call her back as soon as you can. She left a number where you can reach her.’
Ellen was looking at Michael. ‘Is it an LA number?’ she asked.
‘Yeah. Shall I give it you?’
‘No, it’s OK, I’ll get it tomorrow,’ Ellen answered. ‘Did she say what she was doing in LA?’
‘No.’
‘OK. I’ve got a meeting with the literary department at five tomorrow afternoon about the package we’re putting together for one of Rosalie Marsh’s books, could you have the file ready when I get in? I should be there around lunch-time.’
‘OK,’ Nancy responded cheerily and after saying goodbye she rang off.
‘Sandy Paull’s in LA and wants to speak to me,’ Ellen told Michael as she tucked her phone back in her bag.
His eyes were wide with surprise as he looked up from the fax he was reading. Then he started to laugh. ‘You don’t suppose she’s going to offer you a job, do you?’ he said.
Ellen smiled. ‘Who knows?’ Then, unable to stop herself, ‘If she is, then at least it’ll be one person who wants me in London.’
Michael looked round as a rowdy group bustled in from the cold, then, turning back to Ellen he was about to speak when she said, ‘It’s OK, I know you don’t want to deal with that, so let’s change the subject, shall we? After all, that’s what we usually do.’
Michael continued to look at her for a moment, then, sliding the faxes back into his pocket he said, ‘You’ve got no interest in coming to London, and you know it.’
‘So why don’t I take on World Wide over in LA until you get to the investing stage,’ she said, ‘maybe then …’
‘Listen,’ he interrupted, ‘before you go any further, we’ve had this conversation before and I told you then what kind of position it would put me in with Mark Bergin and Chris Ruskin if you come on board. They know who you are and neither of them have suggested their girlfriends or wives taking an active role in the company and I’m not prepared to either. So, OK, you’re more qualified than they are, but the answer’s still got to be no, Ellen, and not because of the reasons you’re thinking. This isn’t personal, it’s entirely professional.’
Ellen looked down at her plate and fought back the temper that was egging her on to be as unreasonable as she could get. She was just so sick of the way he constantly avoided the subject of their future that she only wished she had it in her to tell him to go to hell and get up and walk out. Of course it was to do with Michelle, there was no question about that, but on the one and only occasion she had tried to make him talk about it he had told her quite bluntly that if she didn’t let it go he would leave.
She watched as he tasted the wine and thought of the advice her father used to give her, ‘deal with your fears before they deal with you.’ And in just about every other walk of life she could do that, but where Michael was concerned she was so afraid of losing him she could hardly even think straight. Except, if it was going to happen then what was the point in delaying it? It had to be faced some time and she damned well wasn’t going to go on like this, living in fear of when it would happen and panicking about how she was going to handle it when it did.
Putting her fork down, she moved her hand to her glass and circled the stem. Then, looking up at him she said, ‘Michael, I want to know if there’s ever going to be anything more for us than this.’
Briefly, he stopped chewing, then, reaching for his glass he took a mouthful of wine.
Her heart was beating so hard that her voice quavered as she said, ‘Please don’t change the subject. I want an answer. Should I continue to hope that one day there might be something between us, or shall … Would it be better if we said goodbye now?’
He put his glass down and fixing her with sombre blue eyes he said, ‘Do you really want to do this when you have to go back to LA tomorrow?’
She looked at him, feeling her resolve failing, but fought to keep it.
‘Why don’t we wait until we’re in Barbados,’ he said. ‘We’ll have plenty of time to talk then. But the short answer, if you’re looking for one now, is no, I don’t think it would be better if we said goodbye.’
So much relief rushed into Ellen’s heart that for a moment it was hard to breathe.
‘I think it would be better if I got the check now, though,’ he said.
Laughing, she said, ‘But you haven’t finished your meal.’
‘And you haven’t started yours,’ he pointed out. ‘I just think we need to be a little closer than this.’
It didn’t take them long to reach their hotel and as they rode up in the elevator he held her tight in his arms, kissing her deeply. She kept wondering if she had done the right thing in agreeing to postpone their talk until they were in the Caribbean, but as she walked into their room ahead o
f him and he pulled her back in his arms she felt her insecurities starting to fade.
‘No more talk of goodbyes, OK?’ he said.
‘OK,’ she promised and raised her mouth to his as he kissed her lingeringly and tenderly on the lips.
‘Turn around,’ he whispered.
Obediently she turned and found herself facing a long cheval mirror where their reflections were bathed in a soft, yellowy lamplight. He pulled her back against him and gazing into her eyes in the mirror he said, ‘You’re so beautiful and I love you so damned much.’
‘Harry, that’s a great idea!’ Sandy laughed, slapping her hands on the desk in delight. ‘You’re a genius. Let’s do it.’
‘You’re crazy,’ Craig declared.
‘Call him up! Call him up now,’ Harry urged, his freckled face flushing with excitement.
Sandy looked at her watch. ‘What time is it in LA?’ she asked, losing a yawn in a laugh. ‘I forgot to change my watch, so it’s five in the morning. We can’t call yet.’
‘Then send a fax,’ Harry said.
‘Hang on, hang on,’ Craig cautioned. ‘Shouldn’t we get in touch with the show’s producers first, make sure they want an American in the lead?’
‘They do,’ Harry told him. ‘I was on the phone to Eustace earlier, that’s what gave me the idea.’
‘But is their budget going to stretch to the likes of Marty Kernik? I mean, he’s big time on Broadway, he’ll be used to big bucks.’
Sandy looked from Craig’s boyish face to Harry, then back again. What a formidable trio they were proving, and all because she’d had the common sense to offer them the kind of deal Michael never had. No threats, no blackmail, the way everyone thought, just more money, more perks and a generous share in the profits. ‘So which way do we do it?’ she said.