Diamonds and Dreams (26 page)

When
the show ended, Derek didn’t tell Lindsay this or anything else.
 
He disappeared backstage, leaving Kenny with
orders to see Lindsay safely back to her room.
 
Upset, she threw her pillow across the room and thought that if they
weren’t leaving for New York in the morning, she would have packed her suitcase
and walked out on Derek this evening.
 
Right when she started to feel close to him, he acted childish.
 
A vision of Brant’s face floated through her
mind now.
 
The more she tried to forget
Brant, the more she needed him.
 
Gloomily
she wondered if she’d ever get over him or would she end up regretting the
decision she made to leave Columbus and him.

By
the following day, the news of superstar Derek Eden’s “latest love interest,
radio host Lindsay Blair” hit the media in a big way.
 
Brant was at the WQXL radio station where he
sipped coffee at his desk when he spotted a picture of Lindsay with Derek on
the Internet.
 
He read details of the
couple’s “romantic rendezvous in New Orleans” over the past weekend.
 
Brant thought Lindsay looked more beautiful
than ever.

I’ve lost
her for good,
he realized, wondering if Derek Eden had anything
to do with her decision to accept the job in New York.
 
Remembering the night he watched her leave
with Derek after the singer called her on stage at the Palace Theatre, Brant’s
stomach churned.
 
She must have wanted
Derek all along.
 
Well, if Derek Eden is
her choice, then Brant decided he’d not waste more time pursuing her.
 
It hurt too much to realize that she must
have considered him as second best.
 
For
the past few months he refused to accept that his relationship with Lindsay was
really finished.
 
Now he had no choice
but to believe that everything was over between them.

CHAPTER
TWENTY

Was
Derek still angry with her?
 
Lindsay
didn’t know as she stepped off the plane that carried her and the others back
to New York.
 
She was aware that Derek
kept his distance from her during the remainder of their stay in New Orleans.

He
finally spoke to her before they left the airport.
 
“I’m sorry I lost my patience with you.
 
My only excuse for being so temperamental is
that it was on a Monday.
 
Mondays bring
out the worst in me, especially when they don’t get off to a good start.”

Lame
excuse,
she thought, but instead she suggested, “Let’s forget about what
happened.”
 
Yet she couldn’t.

When
Derek called Lindsay a few days later at the radio station and asked her to
dine with him at his very own Eden’s Restaurant after she finished her show,
she didn’t have the opportunity to go home and change out of the cotton pastel
print dress that she wore all day.
 
“You’re twenty minutes late,” he complained when she finally joined him
at his table.

“Sorry.”

Eden’s
had midnight blue walls with flower paintings and bright green planters which
lent a festive summer atmosphere to the inside of the room.
 
Lindsay appreciated the way that the tables
were set well apart, allowing guests privacy and quietness as they ate.
 
She also liked the French Nouvelle cuisine,
that was French, but still appropriate for people concerned with healthful
living and a slim line.

As
Lindsay ate a cold salad of red lettuce, beans, endive, mushrooms and truffles
mixed with a warm goose-liver dressing, she listened to Derek making
conversation about his latest new songs.
 
Soon the waiter brought roasted-live lobster creatively arranged to
display its natural form and with a surprising, but tasty vanilla sauce.

“Look!
 
It’s Derek Eden!” a female voice called from
nearby.
 
Lindsay saw a petite blonde
teenage girl with a woman who looked so much like her that she was probably the
girl’s mother.
 
The two whispered to each
other, then the girl left her table to head toward Derek.

“Excuse
me, Mr. Eden,” she began.
 
“I’m a big fan
of yours.
 
May I have your autograph,
please?”
 
She stood expectantly beside
Derek and Lindsay’s table as she held out a pen and a small notebook.

“Can’t
you see I’m busy?” Derek snapped, frowning.
 
“I want to eat my dinner in peace.
 
Please go back to your table.”

His
unkind behavior embarrassed Lindsay as she glanced at the hurt expression on
the girl’s face.
 
“It would only take a
few seconds to give her your autograph, Derek.”

“This
is no concern of yours,” he retorted.
 
“You don’t have to deal with the problem of being constantly recognized
wherever you go like I do.
 
If I make an
exception one time, then everyone expects me to do it the rest of the time,
too.”

“You’re
Lindsay Blair, aren’t you?” the girl asked hesitantly.
 
“I listen to your show on WCIT all the
time.
 
Would you give me
your
autograph?”

“Of
course,” she replied, but Derek jerked his napkin off his lap and threw it
across his plate as he glared at his young fan.

“C’mon, Lindsay.
 
Let’s leave.”

“Wait,”
Lindsay insisted, reaching out to accept the notebook from the girl.
 
“I’m happy to sign this and glad to meet
you.”

She
wrote her name and a short “good luck” message for the girl who thanked her and
left without another word to Derek.
 
When
the girl returned to her table, Lindsay saw the look of disapproval that her
mother shot toward him.

“Was
it really necessary for you to appease that silly girl?” Derek scolded.
 
“One might think that you deliberately seek
attention from the public.”

A
glowering expression appeared over his handsome features, alerting her that he was
still in a bad mood.
 
“I’m sorry, Derek,
but I hated to see you treat her rudely when she was excited to see you.
 
Have you forgotten that
it’s
fans like her that buy your songs and attend your concerts?
 
The public has a fickle heart.
 
They can make you a star, but they also have
the power to trigger your downfall.”

“Let’s
get out of here,” he said in a petulant voice.

Lindsay
felt the tension, as well as the hot, inquisitive glances from patrons that
overheard their exchange.
 
Walking toward
the door, she was glad their dinner date ended.

That
evening, she found it difficult to fall asleep because her mind wandered back
over the past few weeks.
 
There’d been
more than one annoying incident regarding Derek that bothered her.
 
When he wanted to be a perfect escort, he
could be, but if everything didn’t proceed exactly according to his plans, he
behaved like a spoiled child.
 
She knew
he had his choice of women to go out with, so why did he continue to ask her
out,
then
end up quarreling with her?
 
Maybe he was using her for some reason, but
what could it be?
 
She had no idea, but
was grateful that he kept his word about not pressuring her into having an
affair with him.

After
recalling the humiliating incident in the restaurant, she decided it would be best
to put more distance between her and Derek.
 
She planned to say she was busy the next time he called to ask her
out.
 
That is, if he called again.

He
did the very next evening to invite her to the opening of a new Broadway
play.
 
“It sounds
interesting,
Derek, but I already have other plans.
 
Maybe another time,” she said.

“Cancel
them, Lindsay.
 
Do you have any idea how
scarce these tickets are, even if you’re plugged into this city’s ‘in
crowd’?
 
I went to a lot of bother, not
to mention expense, and now you say you’re busy.
 
What could you possibly want to do that’s
more important?”

“Never mind.
 
I’m sorry, Derek, but I have no intention of changing my plans, so call
someone else.
 
I’m sure there are many
people who’d love to attend the play with you.”

“Of
course there are.
 
And I
will
get someone to go in your place.”

She
held the phone away from her ear which still rang a bit from his rudeness.
 
Why couldn’t she shake the feeling that there
was more behind Derek’s recent behavior than just selfishness and being
accustomed to having his own way?

“You’re
a hit!
 
The majority of our listeners
love you,” Dawn told Lindsay after her first month on the air at WCIT.
 
“Many responded that they think you’re witty,
but tactful, smart, but not a show-off.”

Lindsay
felt pleased that she achieved her career goal and in such a short time, but
something was missing, preventing her from being fully happy.
 
At WCIT she forced herself to act more
outgoing, the way Brant did at WBKB, and her plan worked.
 
She created a new, more dynamic image of
herself as a radio personality.
 
However,
now she began to feel trapped by that image since no one allowed her to be
anything but WCIT’s star host that was charming, confident, pretty and
intelligent.
 
No one cared enough to take
the time to meet the real Lindsay Blair, who could be as lonely, miserable and
unsure about where her life was headed as anyone else.
 
Sometimes she felt like she moved into a city
inhabited by people who didn’t care or even notice when a person like herself
went out of their way to be kind, honest or generous.

One
breezy autumn afternoon she stood by a soda machine in the WCIT lobby when a
tall, sloppily-dressed man with drab-looking brown hair approached her.
 
She vaguely remembered when Dawn quickly
introduced him to her once as Dean Vincent.
 
“What’s wrong, Lindsay?
 
You don’t
look good today, and that’s unusual.”

“It’s
one of those bad days like we all get occasionally.”
 
She tried to don a fake smile, but it didn’t
fool Dean.

He
reached inside his shirt pocket and took out a tiny gold case.
 
“Here,” he said, handing it to her.
 
“These should get rid of the dark circles
under your eyes and put a smile back on your face.
 
Consider them as a little gift to welcome you
to this city.
 
They’ll leave you feeling
great in no time.”

He
grinned slyly,
then
walked away as she opened the case
that was cold and smooth against her palm.
 
Colorful little capsules lay inside and she cringed at the sight of
them, but at the same time, she felt tempted to swallow them.
 
They seemed to be the only way she could
temporarily escape the world that didn’t look as beautiful to her as it did in
the past.
 

Picking
one up, she raised it closer to her lips and stared down at it, then it made a
“clink” as she threw it and the others in the case into the nearest trash
can.
 
I’m
not so stupid or desperate to resort to this,
she finally convinced
herself.
 
Nevertheless, her problem of
getting through each day without feeling depressed remained unsolved.

As
she sipped a cup of coffee the next morning, Lindsay switched on the radio in
the kitchen just as the news began.
 
“Yesterday in Los Angeles actor Marco Moore was admitted to a private
hospital following an apparent suicide attempt,” the announcer began.
 
“The popular film star allegedly mixed a
nearly lethal dosage of drugs and alcohol.
 
He remains in critical condition at this hour.”

The
report about Marco shocked Lindsay, but she was further surprised when the
phone rang about forty-five minutes later and Derek was on the line.
 
“Did you hear the news about Marco?” he
wanted to know.

“Yes.
 
I’m sorry to hear about the incident.”

“I’ll
bet.”

Did
she detect a note of sarcasm in his voice?
 
“Since you and Marco are friends, Derek, I know you’re probably upset.
 
If there’s anything I can do to help him or
you, I will.”

“No,
we don’t need you.
 
You’ve done enough to
poor Marco already!”