by Daphne Clair
‘I have the script,’ Devin said, ‘for Rose.’
She looked up. ‘Good.’ A foolish reply, but she couldn’t say any more. Her gaze dropped.
He remained there a few more seconds, perhaps waiting for her to look at him again. Then he turned away.
She heard the front door close, then let her head drop into her hands, her thumbs kneading at her temples.
How long could they go on this way?
Despite her relief that she didn’t have to face him every day after that fraught episode, she missed Devin more than she had expected—the evening talks over a drink, the occasional laughter, the times they’d shared preparing a meal and then eating together—even the sound of his quiet breathing in the bed beside her, and the hiss of the shower when he got up in the morning.
The apartment seemed very big and very empty. She ate out the first night with friends, and the following evenings snacked while she worked.
On Friday she had a meeting with the casting director, arranging auditions for some minor parts and discussing more possibles for the fiancée, because if the slim chance of getting Rose Grady fell through, they’d need to fill the gap quickly.
On her way out of the building she almost collided with Craig.
‘Shannon!’ He gave her a hug and kissed her cheek. ‘Have you got time for a coffee?’
‘I want to get back, there might be messages on the answer machine. Why don’t you come round and we can have a coffee at…my place?’ She could do with some comfortable company.
In the apartment she handed him the latest copy of the script to read while she made the coffee and a snack, and they were still poring over the script a couple of hours on when Devin walked in.
He stopped in the doorway, his briefcase in one hand, a bag over his shoulder. He looked handsome and a little tired, and decidedly grim.
‘Devin!’ Shannon said. ‘I wasn’t expecting you today.’
‘I finished my business earlier than I thought I would.’
His eyes flicked from her to Craig and she stood up, saying, ‘You remember Craig, don’t you?’
‘Vividly.’
Craig shot a glance at Shannon’s confused expression and stood up too, shoulder to shoulder with her. He half lifted a protective arm at her back, then dropped it without touching her. ‘I’m flattered.’
Shannon rushed into speech. ‘We were just going over the latest script changes.’ Mentally she kicked herself for making excuses. She had no need to justify inviting a friend and colleague round. Hadn’t Devin said this was her home?
‘I see,’ he said evenly. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I just got off a long flight. I’d like to freshen up.’
As Devin left the room, Craig said, ‘Should I go?’
‘Certainly not. Sit down. Would you like another coffee? Or something else?’
‘I could do with a whisky after that…er…interruption,’ he said, ‘if you have some.’
They did, and she poured herself a glass of wine, resuming her seat beside him.
Devin came back into the room, having changed into casual cotton trousers and a loose sand-coloured shirt.
‘Do you want a drink?’ Shannon asked him. ‘Or something to eat?’
Crossing to the drinks cabinet, he said shortly, ‘I’ll get my own drink.’
Apparently not interested in eating, he sat leaning against the back of the other couch and regarding them with a closed, unreadable expression.
Shannon said, ‘How was the trip?’
Devin shrugged. ‘Fine.’
‘Did you…’ She faltered, wondering if he’d thought about his promise.
‘Rose is reading the script.’ He was looking strangely unapproachable, holding a shot glass in one hand, the other arm flung over the back of the couch that he had all to himself.
‘Thank you.’ Shannon explained to Craig, ‘Devin knows Rose Grady. He took her a copy of the script.’
‘Wow!’ Craig gazed at Devin with new respect. Turning to Shannon again, he said, ‘She’d be wonderful as the fiancée. Um…you don’t have a Hollywood star in mind for the witness, do you?’
She touched his hand. ‘You know I want you, Craig.’
He grinned with obvious relief. ‘I’d love to work with Rose.’
‘Don’t count on it, she probably wouldn’t be free even if she’s interested.’ Maybe she was only reading the script—or pretending to—as a favour to her old ‘friend.’
Craig said, ‘I’ll cross my fingers.’
‘I’d be a bit nervous about directing her,’ Shannon confessed.
‘You’re a damn good director. Remember you’re the one in charge.’
‘Thank you.’ She smiled at him gratefully. It was nice to praised by an actor.
Devin put down his glass, the sound making Shannon start guiltily. He had been left out of the conversation, not only because Craig was her guest, but because she couldn’t forget the constraint of the morning of Devin’s departure, and the drama of the night before.
Craig glanced at him and finished his own drink. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to it. Thanks, Shannon. You’ll let me know when you need me?’
She walked him to the door and closed it behind him, then went slowly back to the living room. Devin had left his chair and was getting himself another drink.
‘How did your business go?’ she asked him when he turned.
‘I thought you’d never ask.’
‘I didn’t know if you’d want to talk about it in front of Craig.’
He looked as though he might not believe her, but as she hesitated he said, ‘Sit down. You’re like a nervous deer, hovering over there.’
‘I’m not nervous.’ She sat down again to prove it, and was disconcerted when he strolled over to sit on the same couch, although leaving a good couple of feet of space between them. He propped an elbow on the back of it and scanned her face. ‘My business was successful,’ he said. ‘But I don’t want to spend so much time away now that…there’s someone to come home to.’
That was her. Unexpectedly, she had to swallow a lump in her throat, a clutch of longing.
She said, ‘I’m really grateful to you for getting Rose to read the script.’
‘How grateful?’ he asked softly, his eyes questioning her.
She looked away. ‘I’ve moved my things into the spare room,’ she said baldly. ‘I hope you won’t object.’
There was a taut silence. Then he said, his tone hardening, ‘Fair enough. Admittedly I broke our agreement. I suppose an apology isn’t sufficient to change your mind? Because I certainly owe you one.’
Shannon shook her head. She had been much too close to breaking her own resolution that night. She couldn’t trust herself if anything like that happened again.
‘You always were a stubborn woman.’ He shifted his position and she tensed, but he only leaned back, looking up for a moment at the ceiling.
She dared a small, slightly shaky laugh. ‘You can talk.’
Devin turned his head to look at her, answering humour gleaming under half-closed lids. ‘I don’t give up easily, true. So be warned, sweetheart.’
The word was a mockery, yet it turned her heart to mush. She wanted to be in his arms, snuggling against him the way she used to in the early days of their marriage, before it all went so horribly wrong. Rallying her defences, she said, ‘Does that mean I can expect more caveman tactics?’
‘I thought I’d made it clear you were safe. You always were. Do you think I don’t know what you were fighting that night? Not me, was it?’
‘Whatever your ego decides.’
He laughed, not kindly. ‘Keep your pride then. It won’t be much company in your lonely bed.’
‘If you don’t mind,’ she said, ‘I’ll go to it now. I’ve had a tiring day.’ She got up, then paused, noting the fine lines about his eyes and the hollows below his cheekbones. He must be tired too, and maybe jet-lagged. ‘Are you sure I can’t get you something first?’
; ‘Spoken like a good little wife,’ he said, lifting his glass in an ironic toast, and then tossing off the remaining whisky. ‘But the only thing I want at the moment is the one thing you won’t offer me. I’d give a lot for a warm, willing woman in my arms right now.’ He looked at her fully, his eyes challenging, his mouth taking on a sardonic quirk.
Oh, he was temptation incarnate. She stiffened her spine and said, ‘Sorry. I’m not available.’
‘I didn’t think so.’ He continued to study her, and she shook herself mentally and moved away from his hypnotic gaze.
Part of her wanted to throw her scruples to the wind and take what he offered, give him what he needed. But every time she remembered how he’d got her here in his home her spirit rebelled and something froze around her heart. All she had to hang on to was the remnant of her pride.
The weekend came and Devin said, ‘Why don’t we have a night out?’ At her surprised look he expanded, ‘Just the two of us. We could take in a film, have a meal afterwards.’ He paused, and in a carefully neutral tone added, ‘Or are you too busy?’
‘No,’ she admitted. Soon she wouldn’t have time for a social life, but if he wanted her company tonight she could put off the work she’d planned and do as he asked.
‘Then what would you like to see…do?’
‘Films aren’t your favourite entertainment.’ He had never shared her enthusiasm.
‘I don’t have your specialist knowledge,’ he said, ‘but that doesn’t stop me enjoying a good movie. You can educate me.’
‘Educate you?’
‘You’re the expert.’
‘And you want to learn?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, I do. You choose which film, and I’ll pick a restaurant.’
In the darkened theatre Shannon found it difficult to concentrate. She had taken off the jacket she wore over a sleeveless dress, and her bare arm brushed against Devin’s shirt-sleeved one, setting up a tingling awareness. When she covertly glanced at him she could see his strong profile silhouetted in the dim light, reminding her of the many times they had shared a more intimate darkness in the bed they used to sleep in, make love in. She could even smell his subtle male body scent and a faint whiff of his aftershave.
Resolutely she turned her attention to the screen, where the characters were acting out a complicated drama involving a number of shifting relationships.
Making their way out of the theatre, she felt the light touch of Devin’s hand on her waist as though it were capable of burning her flesh through the thin fabric of her dress.
In the restaurant Devin wanted to know, ‘So what did you think?’
‘Tell me what you thought first,’ she countered.
‘An amateur opinion? I could be setting myself up to be shot down in flames.’
‘I’m not setting you up,’ she denied. ‘After all, you’re the target audience, the ordinary viewer who just wants to see a good film and enjoy a night out. Your opinion counts.’
He shrugged. ‘It was well acted and the photography was superb. The story was kind of interesting but it seemed artificial to me.’
‘A good plot shouldn’t appear contrived. You couldn’t believe in it?’
‘No.’ He reached for a glass of wine, resting his fork for a moment. ‘Did you?’
‘While I was watching, yes. Unlikely, but then plenty of true stories are even more unbelievable.’
He asked curiously, ‘If you find true stories unbelievable, how can you believe in something made up?’
‘The events may be made up, but they can illustrate a truth about life, emotions…people.’
‘Illuminate the human condition?’ He laughed. ‘I’ve never figured that one out. Is there such a thing, when every human being is different from every other one?’
A woman with a basket of flowers for sale entered the restaurant, and Devin called her over, chose a red rose and presented it to Shannon.
She took it hesitantly. ‘Thank you, but you didn’t need to…’
His eyes sombre, he said, ‘I thought about buying you flowers on my way home from the airport, but it seemed…inadequate.’
She looked down, laying the rose on the tablecloth. ‘This is lovely,’ she said.
When they returned to the apartment she looked for something to put it in, settling for a champagne flute after cutting the stem of the flower so it would fit.
Devin lingered, watching her. She placed the rose on the dining table and turned to find him lounging in the doorway. She said, ‘I…enjoyed tonight.’
There had been a kind of bitter-sweetness about the evening, recalling earlier times.
‘We should do it again.’
Shannon nodded. But they could never return to those uncomplicated days early in their marriage. Too much had come between them since then.
Shannon was into frenzied pre-production mode. She’d hired an assistant producer, but overall the project was hers and she wanted everything to be as perfect as possible.
On her birthday Devin suggested an early dinner and a visit to the opera at the Aotea Centre. He knew she loved the richness of the costumes and sets as well as the drama of the acting and music. ‘You can dress up,’ he said, ‘wear something glamorous.’
And do him justice, Shannon thought cynically, then smothered the unworthy thought.
She dressed in a slim-fitting ruby-red chiffon dress, ruched over satin, with tiny black beads sewn into the folds, winking in the light, and flung a black lace exotically bead-fringed shawl over her shoulders.
Devin, handsome in black tie and jacket, surveyed her with approval when she joined him in the living room. ‘You look wonderful,’ he said, his eyes kindling.
‘Thank you.’ She busied herself adjusting the wrap, avoiding the danger of meeting his gaze.
‘I hope this will go with it,’ he said, and handed her a package wrapped in gift paper.
‘I wasn’t expecting a present.’
‘It’s your birthday. Of course you get a present.’
‘But you’re taking me to the opera.’
‘Open it.’
Reluctantly she peeled back the gift wrapping, revealing a jeweller’s box.
The bracelet nestled against white satin was exquisite, a circle of twisted gold threads set with deep red stones.
‘Rubies?’ she asked with trepidation. It must have cost a fortune.
‘Garnets,’ Devin said. ‘Are you disappointed?’
‘No! This is beautiful, but I can’t take it, Devin.’
‘Of course you can take it.’ His voice held a harsh note. ‘You’re my wife and I want you to have it. No strings,’ he added. ‘I’m not trying to bribe you into bed with me, Shannon, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘I wasn’t,’ she protested.
‘Then say thank you nicely and put it on.’
‘I…well, thank you.’ She looked down at the gorgeous thing, unable to suppress a pang of guilt. It was an extravagant present for a wife who refused to be one in the fullest sense. ‘Thank you very much.’
He lifted it from its nest of satin. ‘Here, let me.’
Mutely she allowed him to fasten the bracelet about her wrist. He captured her hand, turning it so the bracelet slipped a little, the stones glittering under the overhead light. Then he dropped a light kiss on her palm, making it tingle. ‘I hope that isn’t a breach of contract,’ he said, releasing her. ‘Come on, we don’t want to be late.’
The opera was a sumptuous feast of sound and sight, and Shannon managed to lose herself in its extravagance, emerging into the cool night air afterwards feeling euphoric and almost dazed.
‘That was wonderful,’ she said as Devin took her arm to guide her through the departing crowd.
‘One of the best I’ve seen,’ he agreed.
Curious, she asked, ‘If you think films are unbelievable, what about opera? Their plots are really out of this world.’
Devin laughed. ‘I just enjoy the music. There’s no requireme
nt to accept the silly story.’
A hearty male voice hailed Devin and a big hand clapped his shoulder. ‘Hey, Dev! How’s tricks? Haven’t seen you in a while.’
Devin’s hand on Shannon’s arm halted her. He turned to the burly, balding man and the small blond woman clinging to his arm. ‘Shannon, you remember Con and Amy, don’t you?’
Two pairs of astonished eyes regarded her before both faces broke into smiles. Con boomed, ‘Shannon, sweetheart! So you two are back together? That’s great.’ He leaned down and kissed her cheek as his wife was saying warmly, ‘It’s nice to see you again, Shannon.’
She couldn’t help being touched at their genuine pleasure. Con was an old schoolmate of Devin’s and she had liked the couple best of all his friends, but she hadn’t seen them since the break-up.
‘This calls for a celebration,’ Con decided. ‘Let’s find a bar.’ He led the way and found them a table, insisting on ordering a bottle of sparkling wine, though after one glass Devin settled for coffee.
‘We saw Heart of the Wilderness,’ Amy told her. ‘It was great. I’ve been telling everyone I know the director.’
‘Name-dropper,’ her husband teased amiably, pouring himself more bubbly and refilling Shannon’s glass. ‘Now Shannon’s back,’ he said to Devin, ‘maybe you’ll be less like a cat on hot bricks and stop flitting about the world so much. You’ve been flamin’ hard to pin down ever since the split.’
‘I do have business interests in Australia and America,’ Devin said mildly.
Con made a scornful sound. ‘Well, when can the two of you come to dinner? We’ve got a lot to catch up on.’
Amy said, ‘Yes, we must get together. Maybe one night next week? I’ll phone you.’
Devin put down the spoon he’d been stirring his coffee with. ‘I don’t know if Shannon can spare the time.’
Shannon scarcely hesitated. ‘I’m sure we can work out a date,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ll look forward to it, Amy.’
She would make the time, she promised herself, determined to fulfil her agreement with Devin. Besides, she too would enjoy an evening with the couple, even if the timing was less than ideal.