Fire and Ice

by Carla Fredd

  Chapter 11

  "He was safe! He was safe!" Mike jumped to his feet and shouted along with the rest of the Atlanta Braves fans in the stadium.

  Holly smiled as she listened to insults and statements of disbelief Mike aimed at the umpire. She hadn't seen that type of hand movement and finger gesturing since her last trip to New York City. He seemed impervious to the ninety-four-degree heat and nearly one-hundred-percent humidity. He and the baseball player who was called out argued passionately against the call. "Don't you think you're being hard on the man?" she asked, when he finally sat in his seat.

  "Hard?" he said, clutching the half-empty bag of peanuts. "The man is obviously blind and he doesn't know a thing about baseball."

  "That must be why they hired him as the umpire," she said, as she tugged on the brim of the Braves cap Mike had bought for her at the start of the game.

  Mike looked at her. His brown eyes narrowed. She saw a flicker of annoyance in his eyes, then his expression changed to one of amusement. "Smart aleck," he said, as he placed his arm along the back of her seat. He gently squeezed her shoulder before returning his attention to the baseball field.

  The smell of greasy hot dogs and popcorn permeated in the box seats. The two teams played a close game, but in the seventh inning, the Braves were losing by a score of five to three. The hot sun beat down on her bare legs. She enjoyed watching Mike almost as much as she enjoyed the baseball game. He was an intense fan, jumping to his feet when the Braves scored and moaning in grief when things weren't going their way.

  She was glad that she'd changed her mind at the last minute and agreed to go with him. They'd both tiptoed around the subject of her move to Seattle. It was as if they'd called a nonverbal truce, Holly thought. In a few days, the Milton Group would award the bid. She was confident that her company would win and the delicate truce between them would end. "I'm not going to think about that now," Holly said to herself, and concentrated on the action unfolding on the playing field.

  She didn't know what distracted her from the game. Later, when she had time to think about the events, she would wonder whether it was the sound of the tub of Coke falling onto the seats beside her or the audible intake of breath that distracted her. At any rate, the events that occurred were Holly's worst nightmare.

  The group of teenagers seated to the right of their box made as much noise as Mike did. During the seventh inning stretch, they stood listening to the piped-in music over the speaker system. Mike took off his baseball cap and sunglasses and smiled at her.

  "Are you having a good time?" he asked.

  "I'm having more fun watching you watch the game." Holly took his hand in hers. "I never knew you could convey so many thoughts with the flip of a hand."

  His expression was sheepish.

  "I tend to get carried away."

  "I would never have guessed." As the sound of the last note of a popular tune ended, Holly heard the thump. When she turned toward the sound, she saw a teenaged girl. The tub of Coke rolled like a tidal wave down the bleachers. The fans sitting in the seats below made a mad dash to avoid the wave of soft drink. But the teenager didn't hear their sounds of surprise. Her eyes were focused on Mike.

  Holly heard the girl's quick gasp of breath. She shouted, "Oh, my God!" She ran toward the box seats, shouting "It's him! It's Mike Williams. Oh, God. Oh, God!" The girl climbed over the gate separating their box seat from the rest of the seats. In her excitement, the girl would have knocked Holly over if Mike hadn't pulled Holly into his arms.

  "Is it you? Are you really Mike Williams?"

  Mike looked at the girl, then met Holly's gaze. His expression was apologetic. He looked at the excited fan and smiled. "Yes, I'm Mike Williams."

  The scream she let loose caught the attention of the fans around them. "I watch your show every night," she gasped, and turned to her friends at the end of the row. "Christy! Michelle!

  It's Mike Williams!"

  It was as if the floodgates had been opened, Holly thought, as she sat in Mike's seat. There wasn't enough room to get into her seat. Fans surrounded them. Mike signed his autographs on everything from a napkin to the back of a T-shirt a fan was wearing. Holly watched as Mike handled the crowd with grace. Gone was the man having fun at a baseball game. In his place was Mike Williams the talk-show host.

  Holly gasped with pain as another fan tried to get closer to Mike. She tried to make herself as small as possible, but no matter how many times she shifted positions, someone bumped her shoulder as they reached over her or stepped on her foot as they tried to walk around her.

  "Mr. Williams." Holly recognized the man as a sports reporter on a local television channel. Standing behind the reporter was a cameraman with a minicam in position. "How about a few words about the game?" he asked, holding out a microphone.

  Holly barely heard Mike's response. If she could have left without the reporter seeing her, she would have. She hoped that the crowd would be large enough to hide her from the reporter.

  "What do you think about the game, Ms. Aimes?" Holly froze for a split second. "I think that this is a tough game for the Braves, and I hope they win." She smiled halfheartedly and looked at the reporter. She nearly sighed in relief as the reporter began to wrap up the interview.

  "Hey, I got a question." The loud, raspy voice pierced the noisy buzz of the crowd. Dressed in rumpled tan pants and a navy golf shirt that barely covered the large beer belly, Stan Winfield, of The Inquiry, stood with tape recorder in hand. The Inquiry was the type of newspaper that printed stories whether they were true or not true. No one was immune to their brand of journalism. Holly's and Trey's pictures had appeared on their front pages for weeks after their broken engagement. Stan Winfield smiled at Holly. She saw the cameraman turn with the minicam still recording the scene. She shivered despite the heat when she saw the gleam in Stan's eyes. "Think you'll be able to keep this one, Miss Aimes?"

  Mike turned down the street to her home. The only sound in the car came from the radio. Mike had tried to talk to Holly, but her response had been apathetic at best. Cars and vans were parked on both sides of her street. Photographers and reporters milled around her front door.

  "What is this?" Mike asked in disgust.

  Holly felt cold dread fill her body. Not again, she thought. She was glad that his car had tinted windows. "Please drive by like you're going somewhere else."

  Holly glanced briefly at the reporters standing in her yard before turning her gaze to her tightly clenched hands in her lap. The scene brought back memories of the weeks after her botched engagement: the constant questions, the lack of privacy... This is why I should have never gotten involved with Mike . . .

  "Oh, hell," Mike muttered. "One of them spotted us." Holly turned and looked out the back window. Several people were running to their cars, ready to give chase. Mike gunned the engine and raced through her neighborhood.

  "Do you know any other exits out of here?" Mike asked.

  Holly gave him directions and they headed out of the subdivision. For a few tense moments the trail of cars followed them, but he lost them on a one-way street.

  Mike pulled into a service station and turned to her. "Why don't you call someone to get you some clothes?"

  "No, just drop me off at the office and I'll drive my car home."

  "You don't want to go back to that madhouse." He stared at her, puzzled. "I'm not going to let you go there and face them alone."

  "I've faced them alone before, and you won't always be there for me."

  He couldn't believe that she'd said that to him. "I'm here for you now ... so take advantage of it."

  "It'll only make it worse if I don't appear at home. I might as well get it over with." Looking at his cellphone, she asked, "Can I use your phone?"

  He agreed. Holly dialed the office. "Hi, Robyn. Is Pam there?"

  "Yes, she's here. Holly, you're not coming back in today, are you?"

  "No. Why?"

  "We had a swarm of reporters
here about thirty minutes ago. Some of them are still outside. They were looking for you."

  "Great."

  "I'm sorry. Let me transfer you to Pam."

  "Hey, Holly," Pam said. "Whatever you do, don't come here. The reporters are swarming like bees."

  "Where do you want to go, home or work?" he asked, when she'd ended her conversation with Pam.

  "Neither. I just wish they'd leave me alone." Holly leaned her head back against her seat.

  "You're going to have to face them sometime. It's either now or later," he continued, when she didn't respond. "The best thing to do is to just get it over with."

  "The best thing would have been never to let this thing happen in the first place," she said sadly.

  "What could you have done to avoid it?" he said softly. "You didn't know Stan Winfield would be at the Braves game."

  No, she didn't know Stan Winfield would be at the game, but she should have known that someone like him would show up sooner or later. It was her relationship with Mike that had cause the renewed media attention. She would have to either end their relationship now or continue to see Mike until she moved to Seattle. Either solution would end in pain on her part.

  As she looked at his concerned expression, she realized that she had done what she was afraid she would do and that was to fall in love with Mike.

  There. She'd admitted it. She was in love with him. She had denied her feelings last night, determined to pretend that she'd only found him sexually attractive. But now, sitting here in the parking lot of a self-service gas station, she could tell herself that she was in love.

  Mike drove Holly home and no amount of arguing on her part would change his mind. Silence filled the car as they drove through her neighborhood. There weren't as many cars parked along the street, but the reporters were there nonetheless.

  Mike drove into her driveway and parked the car. The reporters gathered around, camera lenses pointing and poised to take their pictures. Mike held her hand for a brief second, then opened his door.

  "What brings you guys here?" he said, as if he were talking to friends.

  "Could you tell us when you and Ms. Aimes started your relationship?"

  "Were you seeing her while she was engaged?"

  "How about a picture of the both of you together, Mike?"

  "Neither of us has any comment, guys." Mike walked around his car, bumping microphones out of the way until he reached the passenger side. He opened the door for her.

  The whir of camera motors increased as he helped her out of the car.

  "Ms. Aimes, when did you get over your feelings for Trey Christian?"

  "Have you and Mr. Williams been dating long?"

  Holly hated this, and Mike was playing along with them. He was actually smiling as if he were enjoying this circus. He was acting like Trey . . . lapping up the attention with no regard for her feelings.

  They made their way to her front door. Her hands shook as she dug in her purse for the key.

  "We're going to have to ask you to leave now," Mike said, as Holly opened the door. With a firm snap, he shut the door, ignoring the rapid fire of questions.

  Mike locked the door. She went to the control panel of her alarm system and disengaged it. Mike walked to her. "See? That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

  Holly turned to him, her shoulders rigid with anger. "Why did you talk to them? If you wanted some free publicity, why didn't you just wait until I was inside?"

  His hands rested on her shoulders and he frowned in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

  "You know I wanted to avoid them." Holly stepped away from him. "But you were just talking with them like this was some Hollywood premiere. I don't like it. I didn't like it when Trey did it, and I don't like it now."

  "I was trying to make it easy for you. I was trying to put as much attention on me as I could so that they would lighten up on you." Mike's fingers tightened on her shoulders. "Don't you ever accuse me of using you for publicity. My name is Mike, not Trey." He released her arms and walked across to the other side of the living room and sighed. "Look, why don't I come back after the show? We both need time to calm down," he said.

  He was sure that it was just her emotions talking now. Once she thought about it, she had to know that he was nothing like Trey Christian. He'd wanted to share the day with her, but he could see how the press had upset her. "I'll see you after the show."

  She thought about the reporters and the captions they would put under the pictures of him coming to her house after midnight. "No. Don't come tonight. It will just fuel the talk."

  "Holly, they're going to talk about us in the newspapers and magazines and on television no matter what we do. We're the item of the week now. Soon, they'll get wind of somebody else. Then they'll start following them. That's the way they work. It's their job. You can't let what they say about us govern how you live your life."

  "Please, Mike. I just don't want to deal with them right now." Holly turned away from him.

  He could feel her tension from across the room. He sighed. "All right, Holly. I'll call you tonight." He walked to the front door. He turned to look back at her before opening the door and walking out.

  Later that evening, Holly lay on her sofa in the den, listening as the national news ended and Inside Entertainment, a nightly program dedicated to Hollywood entertainment news, began. She sat up on the sofa when the announcer said her name.

  "Could it be love for the second time? Michael Williams and Holly Aimes, who you'll remember as Trey Christian's former fiancée, were seen together several times in Atlanta. Mike Williams, who has been nominated again for an Emmy, has been linked with cover girl Sally and actress Erica Long. This is the first time he's been seen with someone outside the entertainment industry. IE was able to obtain footage of the couple arriving at Ms. Aimes's home outside of Atlanta." The television picture changed to show her and Mike walking to her house. There was a blurb of Mike telling the reporters that they had no comment. The announcer continued, "On his Thursday night show, Trey Christian will be his guest. It should be interesting to see what questions he has for the actor.

  "Trey Christian's engagement to the daughter of Senator Bob Aimes of Georgia was the object of massive media attention. Holly Aimes's life seemed like a fairy tale, a handsome prince marrying the woman hailed as the 'ugly duckling' in the family. But her fairy tale became a nightmare when her fiancé married supermodel Maria Johnson one week after announcing their engagement. We'll have reaction to Thursday night's show on Inside Entertainment."

  The network went to a commercial and her telephone rang. She let it go to the answering machine. She heard Mike calling her name, but she ignored him. He hadn't told her about Trey being on his show. It made her wonder what else he hadn't told her.

  Her telephone rang again twenty minutes later, and again she let it go to her answering machine. Mike's voice roared over the telephone line; aggravation tainted his words. "Holly, I know you're at home . . . answer this phone now." He paused, waiting for her to answer. "If you don't answer this phone right now, I'll come over to your house with enough noise to bring every reporter in the city on your doorstep. Now, answer this damn phone."

  She was tempted, really tempted, not to answer him. But he sounded like he was serious. Holly answered the phone.

  "Why the hell didn't you answer?" he yelled, when she picked up the line.

  "It should be obvious. I didn't want to talk to you." Her tone was cool and distant, in total opposition to her feelings of hurt and confusion.

  "I thought we agreed to calm down this afternoon," he said in an accusing manner.

  "I didn't agree to anything. You just assumed that I agreed with you and left."

  "Look, I don't want to fight with you," he said softly. "I called to tell you that IE was going to do something on us tonight."

  "I saw it."

  Damn. He'd hoped that she'd missed it. He wanted to tell her that he was interviewing Trey himself and not let h
er find out like she did. "Then you know that Trey Christian will be on my show Thursday."

  She murmured a clipped, "Yes."

  He sighed at her tone. "I didn't think about the interview until today. It had been set up for a while . . . before I really knew you."

  "I see."

  "What do you see?"

  "I see that my life is going to be on public display again." Her voice trembled with anger and hurt. "And I don't like it."

  "It's not just your life. It's my life, too."

  "You chose to be in the spotlight. I didn't," she cried out in anger. "I was forced there by you, Trey, and even my father. I'm moving to Seattle just as soon as I can."

  "What about us?" he asked in disbelief.

  Pain settled in her heart like a cruel enemy. "I told you when the relationship began that I was moving. Don't pretend you didn't know."

  "You'd give up our relationship and move to Seattle because of the media?"

  "We have a temporary relationship, Mike."

  "So our lovemaking last night meant nothing to you?" he asked with contempt. "It was just sex?"

  "You know that's not the way it is," she whispered.

  "Then explain to me how it is, Holly," he demanded in frustration.

  "Maybe we need some time away from each other to think about this."

  "There's nothing to think about. Either we have a relationship, or we don't."

  Holly trembled. He was giving her an ultimatum: him, or Seattle. In her mind, she had no real choice. Seattle would always be there. Next week Mike could decide not to hang around. In her heart, Mike was the only choice. Her heart had led her astray before. Could she trust in her heart again? She was silent for a long time.

  "Is it really that difficult for you, Holly?" His tone conveyed his pain. "Let me make it easy for you." He hung up the phone and her heart shattered in tiny pieces.

  It was for the best, she told herself, as tears rolled down her cheeks. Now, she could get on with her life without the hassle of the media. She brushed away the tears and hung up the phone. She had gotten what she wanted, she thought to herself. So why wasn't she happy?