Gordon D. Hayworth was handsome-he was also married. As soon as Cyndra
stepped into his office she'd noticed the family pictures on his
desk.
A very beautiful wife. And two young children. The perfect American
family.
"You've got some voice," he told her. "It's not strong-more soulful
and sexy. But I like that."
"You do?" she asked, widening her eyes.
"Yes, I do," he replied. "We'll find the right single for you to
record and see what happens."
"Really?"
He looked at her intently. "It's what you want, Cyndra, isn't it?"
"It's what I've always wanted, ever since I was a little girl."
"You must've been a cute little girl," he said, smiling.
She wondered how cute he would've thought she was when Mr. Browning
was raping her, when she was having the abortion, and all the other bad
things that had happened to her.
"Yes, I was very cute," she said, smiling back.
"We're happy to have you with us, Cyndra," he said, standing up and
walking around his desk to pat her on the shoulder in a fatherly
fashion.
"I'm happy too," she said.
"We'll be seeing lots of each other."
I hope so, she thought.
He continued to smile as he escorted her to the door.
She walked out of his office and realized for the first time in her
life she'd met a man she knew she could fall in love with.
"I'm flying to New York to see Nick," Annie said.
"That's nice," Cyndra replied. "It'll be a break for you."
Annie frowned. "I have to be honest with you. I'm going there to tell
him I can't keep quiet any longer.
Cyndra turned on her, her eyes flashing angrily. "No, Annie. How many
times must I tell you? It's not just Nick you'll hurt-it's me.
And now my career is about to take off, you mustn't do this."
"I have to," Annie said stubbornly. "I can't live with myself and keep
this secret."
"Screw you!" Cyndra exploded. "I'll deny it ever happened. Let them
go out and search for the body. You'll look like a fool, cause I'll
deny everything. You're not dragging me down, girl, so don't you try
it. I'll tell them you're crazy, I'll tell them you've always been
crazy."
"You can say what you like," Annie said, refusing to look her in the
eye. "But I'm going to the police when I get back."
As soon as she was alone Cyndra called Nick. "Annie's gonna blow it,"
she said. "You'd better be prepared to do something about her."
"I know what I have to do," he said.
"Good, cause otherwise we've both had it."
What happened?" Oliver said, standing on her doorstep trying to
conceal his anger.
"I didn't feel well. I had to get out of there."
He tapped his foot impatiently. "May I come in?"
She wasn't in the mood to deal with him. "I still don't feel good,
Oliver."
He walked past her into the living room. "Why didn't you tell me? I
could have driven you, my car was downstairs."
She trailed behind him. "I needed some air. I walked halfway home."
He looked at her as if he didn't quite believe what he was hearing.
"You left me there and walked home? You left me looking like a fool,
Lauren.
"No, I didn't," she said, refusing to admit she might be wrong.
"Nobody knew I'd gone.
"I'm sure they did."
"Please, Oliver, I'm not in the mood for a fight. I told you, I don't
feel well."
"Do you need a doctor?"
"No, I'll be all right. It was just the pressure of cooking dinner,
and their kitchen was so hot, and I just . . ." She sighed. "Oliver,
don't you ever feel that you're about to explode?"
"No," he said in an irritated voice. "And if I did I would tell
you."
"Thanks," she said listlessly.
"Sometimes, Lauren, I don't understand you."
He could say that again. Perhaps she should enlighten him before it
was too late.
"There's a lot about me you don't know. Maybe we should think about
this marriage thing."
Now he was really aggravated. "I don't have to think about it, and
neither do you."
"If I told you about my past you might change your mind."
"Oh, now you're going to tell me you have a hidden past, is that it?"
"It hasn't all been exactly Little House on the Prairie."
"Listen, my dear, everyone has secrets. I have no need to hear
yours.
I love you, that's enough for me."
She was determined to be heard whether he liked it or not. "When my
parents were killed I went to live in Philadelphia with my aunt and
uncle. I had an affair with my cousin."
"Am I supposed to be upset about that?"
"Then I came to New York, met a photographer called Jimmy and slept
with him."
Oliver frowned. He was not enjoying this. "Lauren, how old are
you?"
"Twenty-four."
"You're twenty-four years old and you've had affairs with two men.
You wouldn't be normal if you hadn't." His tone softened. "You know,
darling, I hardly imagined you were a virgin."
"There was somebody else-somebody I knew when I was very young."
"Who was that?" he asked patiently.
"A boy in high school."
"What about him?"
"Oh, nothing . ." There was no point in telling him about Nick.
"Please, Oliver, I really need to be alone. We'll talk tomorrow. Go
home.
"I was going to give you your surprise," he said, refusing to
budge.
"Give it to me tomorrow."
His mouth hardened into a thin tight line. "Very well," he said,
obviously not at all pleased. "Get a good night's rest." He pecked
her on the cheek and left.
As soon as he was gone she paced around her apartment a nervous
wreck.
God! She was so confused. She didn't know what to do or what to
think. She'd never imagined running into Nick. As far as she was
concerned he was out of her life forever. And yet there he was,
sitting at the dinner party with that Carlysle person, and every
feeling she'd ever had for him came flooding back over her. She'd
loved him so very much, she would have given her life for him.
Seeing him again had unnerved her. Her memories of him were so
vivid.
And he'd looked so good, so great, so fantastic.
Get real. Nick Angelo is your past.
It doesn't have to be that way.
Yes, it does.
Had he seen her? Had he recognized her? Their eyes had met for an
instant and yes-she knew without a doubt he'd recognized her.
If only she could tell somebody, but there was nobody to confide in.
Who would understand about her and Nick? They'd say it was a teenage
fling, a stupid little affair. But it wasn't. She'd lived for him and
he'd crushed her.
Why was she getting in such a state over Nick Angelo? He was a son of
a bitch. He'd dumped her like all the others. He'd set the pattern.
Well, she'd show him. She was marrying Oliver Liberty, a man of
substance. And when she was Mrs. Liberty he couldn't touch her ever
agai
n.
The next morning she woke up and fervently wished it had all been a
dream. She showered, brushed her teeth, put on her makeup, dressed and
went to the office.
As soon as she walked in, Pia was on her case. "Nick Angelo called,"
she said. "He sounded anxious to reach you. Who is he?"
Her stomach did a somersault. "Nobody important. Tear the message
up.
On her desk there were a dozen red roses from Oliver and a note asking
her to meet him for lunch. She knew he must be feeling anxious, they
were supposed to leave for the Bahamas in two days and her behavior had
obviously unsettled him.
"Uh, Pia do me a favor," she said, staring at the roses.
"Yes?"
"If Nick Angelo calls again, say I've left town. In fact, you can tell
him I'm about to be married, and don't give him any other
information."
"Who is he?" Pia asked curiously.
"Oh, just somebody I knew a long time ago in high school."
"He's got a great voice," Pia said. "Kind of sexy.
"That's nice," she replied, wishing Pia would get off the subject.
Oliver was waiting when she arrived at the restaurant. "Feeling better
today?" he asked, solicitous as ever.
"Much better, thank you," she said, sliding in beside him.
"Good. Because I have your surprise."
"Does it bark and eat plenty of food?"
"No, my dear, it is not a puppy. You know how I feel about puppies. I
refuse to have them peeing all over my Persian rugs."
"Then I'm very disappointed, Oliver."
"You won't be," he said, groping for a large envelope on the banquette
seat. "Take a look," he said, handing it to her.
"What is it?"
"Open it and you'll see."
She opened the envelope and pulled out a large poster. Staring at her
was her own image. Above the photograph in bold lettering were the
words THE NEW MARCELLA GIRL! "What's this?" she asked.
"You can see what it is. It's your photograph from the session."
"I know, but why does it say the new Marcella girl?"
"Because, my darling, that's exactly who you're going to be."
Carlysle tried every way she knew how, but she could not get any
further action out of Nick that night. Unbeknown to her he was in a
state of shock because he couldn't believe he'd run into Lauren after
all those years. It was all he could do to escort Carlysle home.
"Aren't you coming up?" she asked as he helped her from the limo.
"Nah, early call," he explained.
"So've I," she pointed out. "We could go into the studio together" "I
got a headache," he said.
"You've got a headache?" She laughed hysterically. "Isn't that
supposed to be my line?"
She went for his zipper again. He slapped her hand away.
"What happened?" she demanded. "I thought we were having a good
time."
"We were. It's nothing personal."
"God, you're behaving really strangely."
He was behaving strangely? Had she ever thought about her own
behavior?
"Look, I'll see you on the set tomorrow," he said.
She marched into her apartment building without a backward glance. Her
driver took him back to his hotel.
He couldn't get over seeing Lauren. What exactly was she doing in New
York? And who was the old guy she was engaged to?
How could she be engaged to a man old enough to be her grandfather?
And how come she hadn't acknowledged him? She must have busted her ass
getting out of there so fast.
He had so many questions and he needed answers. It wasn't that he was
going to forgive her for not answering his letters, but it would be
nice to find out why.
At the hotel there was a message from Annie. He returned her call.
"I'm coming in," she announced.
"Oh . . . that's great," he said, thinking it wasn't so great. The
last thing he needed was Annie.
"I'll be arriving tomorrow at four. Will you meet me?"
"I'm on the set," he said. "But I'll arrange to have someone there."
"We have to talk," she said.
Oh, Christ! Cyndra was right, this didn't sound good.
First thing in the morning he called Help Unlimited. A female voice
said, "Pia Liberty. Can I help you?"
"Yeah, let me talk to Lauren."
"She's not in yet."
"I need to get in touch with her, like immediately."
"I'll see she gets the message.
"Maybe you can give me her home number."
"No, I'm sorry."
"We're friends from way back."
"I'm sure you are, but we never divulge personal numbers. Why don't
you call again at ten?"
He took off for the studio. Carlysle greeted him with a scowl, she was
obviously unused to not getting her own way.
He studied his script, conferred with the director and tried to throw
himself into character, but it was difficult holding his
concentration.
As soon as he got a break he rushed to the phone. "Is Lauren in
yet?"
"I'm sorry, you've missed her. She's left town. She's getting
married, you know."
"Is this Pia?"
"Good memory."
"Listen, Pia, I have to talk to her. It's very important."
"I gave her your message. Maybe she'll call you."
"You don't understand. We really go back a long way."
"She said she'd contact you.
"She did?"
"Yes."
He hung up the phone feeling depressed. What was he chasing her for
anyway? She'd dumped him. What more could he have done than written
her a hundred times without receiving one single reply.
The truth was-if he wanted to face up to it-Lauren Roberts had never
wanted him. It had all been a game for her. Nick Angelo-the jerk from
the wrong side of the tracks, and pretty little Lauren Roberts who'd
amused herself at his expense.
Well, screw her. Let her go off and marry some rich old man. What did
he care?
But deep down he did care. And although he'd never admit it, seeing
her again had stirred up every painful memory of the love he'd once had
for her.
He wanted Lauren to be his past. Somehow he knew it wasn't possible.
nnie had her own agenda, Nick knew it as soon as she arrived on the set
direct from the airport. In New York she looked very Californian with
her deep suntan, athletic body and brightly colored clothes.
"Who's she?" Carlysle demanded, the moment Annie hit the set.
"A friend," Nick replied.
Carlysle smiled a secret smile.
"I bet she doesn't give head like I do.
Waldo, hovering on the sidelines, raised his eyebrows and tut-tutted.
"She's not my girlfriend," Nick explained to Carlysle.
"You haven't fucked her?" Carlysle questioned.
"No.
"But she wants you to."
"Why do you say that?"
"Take a look at her, Nick. She's mooning after you like a baby who
wants to suck mama's tit." Carlysle giggled wickedly. "Only it's not
your tit she wants to suck."
"Has anybody ever told you you've got sex on the brain?"
"Something wrong with that?"
One thing about Carlysle, sh
e wasn't a clinger. She didn't give a damn
who he was sleeping with-which was just as well because he didn't plan
on answering to anyone.
He introduced Annie to the director, which pleased her. Later she sat
in his chair and watched while they shot a restaurant scene. When it
was done she reluctantly admitted he was good.
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