Heartbeat (6 page)

T
HEY BOTH LEFT FOR WORK AT THE SAME TIME THE
next day: It was a routine that went like clockwork every morning. Steven went for a run before work, and then he came back and rode his exercise bike while he shaved and watched the news, and Adrian made them a light breakfast. She had showered and dressed by then. And he showered and dressed while she cleaned up the kitchen and made the bed. On weekends she got him to help, but during the week he was too busy and rushed to be able to help her.

Adrian always watched the morning news, and as much of the
Today
show as she could get in before they left for work. If there was something of interest, they discussed it. But usually they didn't say much to each other in the morning. This morning was different, though. They had made love twice the night before, and Adrian was feeling chatty and affectionate as she kissed him and handed him a cup of coffee. He was still damp from his run, but even with his hair wet and his sweatshirt sticking to him, Steven Townsend was movie-star handsome. It was yet another thing that had set him apart while he was struggling to get out of Detroit and away from his parents. He had been too smart, too ambitious, and too good-looking for the life he'd been born to. And Adrian was striking, too, in her own way, but it was something she never thought of. She was too busy living her life to think about how she looked, except when she got dressed up to go out with Steven. But she had a clean, wholesome look and her natural beauty stood out in the world of artifice they lived in. But she was totally unaware of her own beauty, and it was rare for Steven to mention it to her. He was always preoccupied with other things, like his own life, and his own career. There were times when he scarcely even saw her.

“Anything special going on today?” He glanced at her casually over the newspaper as he ate his breakfast. She had warmed the blueberry muffins she'd bought the night before, and made him a heaping fresh fruit salad mixed in with yogurt.

“Not that I know of. I'll see what's happening when I go in. It didn't look like anything dramatic was happening on the morning news, but you never know. They could shoot the President while we're sitting here eating breakfast.”

“Yeah….” He was looking at the stock prices, and flipping through the business pages while she spoke. “You working late tonight?”

“Maybe. I won't know till this afternoon. A couple of people are out on vacation and we're short. I may even have to go in this weekend.”

“I hope not. Did you remember the party tomorrow night at the Jameses?”

Her eyes met his and she smiled at him. He could never quite believe that she remembered anything. No matter that she was the assistant producer of the news show on a major network. “Of course I remembered. Is it a big deal?”

He nodded, humorless when it came to his career, but it was something that she was used to. “Everybody who's anybody in advertising will be there. I just wanted to make sure you remembered.” She nodded, and he looked at his watch and stood up. “I'm playing squash at six o'clock tonight. If you're working late, I won't come home for dinner. Just leave a message for me at the office.”

“Yes, sir. Anything else I should know before we start the day and disappear into our separate worlds?”

He looked blank for a moment, trying to think, and then he shook his head and looked down at her, still sitting at the kitchen table. But his thoughts were already far from her. He was thinking about two new clients he wanted to approach, and a client he was planning to take away from a slightly more senior man at the agency where he worked. It was something he had done successfully before, with other accounts, and it was a modus operandi he was neither embarrassed about nor afraid of. The end always justified the means, it always had for him. Even sixteen years before when he'd aced his best friend out of the scholarship to UC Berkeley. The other boy had actually been more qualified, but Steven also knew that his friend had cheated on his very first SAT exam, and he had seen to it that the right people heard about it at the right time. No matter that his scores had been perfect ever since, and he had helped Steven prepare for every exam he'd taken junior and senior years. And they were best friends …but he
had
cheated after all …and they disqualified him. And Steven got the hell out of Detroit without ever looking back. He never heard from his friend again. And he had heard years before from his sister that Tom had dropped out of school and was pumping gas somewhere in the ghetto. Things worked out that way sometimes. Survival of the fittest. And Steven Townsend was fit. In every possible way. He stood looking at Adrian for a moment, and then turned and raced upstairs to shower and change before he left for the office.

She was still in the kitchen when he came back down, impeccably dressed in a khaki suit, pale blue shirt, and blue and yellow tie. With his shining dark hair, he looked like a movie star again, or a man in an ad at the very least. It always jolted Adrian a little when she looked at him, he was so incredibly handsome.

“You're looking good, kid.”

He looked pleased at the compliment, and looked her over as she stood up and picked up the tote bag she always took to work. It was a soft black leather Hermes bag she'd had for years, and like her ancient sports car, she loved it. She was wearing a navy wool skirt, a white silk blouse, and a soft white cashmere sweater knotted over her shoulder. She was wearing expensive black Italian loafers, and her whole look was of casual, understated, expensive elegance. It was a kind of casual,throwaway look, but when you looked again, it had style and whispered all the secret code words of good taste and breeding. She had a wonderful easy style, and as understated as she was, somehow everything about her still managed to be beautiful and striking. And as they left the house together, they were a handsome pair. He got in his Porsche as she climbed into the MG, and she laughed at the look on his face. It embarrassed him to be seen anywhere near her car and he had been threatening to make her use the open parking lot at the front of the complex.

“You're a snob!” She laughed at him and he shook his head and a moment later he was gone in a roar from the Porsche's powerful engine, while Adrian tied a scarf around her head, put her beloved old car in gear, and listened happily as it sputtered to life and she headed it in the direction of her office. The freeway was bumper-to-bumper by then and a few minutes later she wound up sitting in the car at a dead standstill. She wondered how much better Steven had fared, and as she thought of him, she suddenly thought of something else, something that seldom happened to her. She was late. She should have had her period two days before, but she knew it didn't mean anything. With the odd hours she worked, and the constant stress, it wasn't unusual to be late, although admittedly it didn't happen to her very often. She made a mental note to think about it again in a few days, and with that, the traffic began moving again, and she stepped on the accelerator and headed for her office.

Everything was in total chaos when she arrived. The producer was out sick. Two of their prize cameramen had had a minor accident, and two of her least favorite reporters were having a heated argument two feet from her desk, and she finally wound up shouting at everyone, which took them all by surprise, since Adrian seldom lost her temper.

“For chrissake, how the hell is anyone supposed to get any work done around here? If you two want to beat on each other, go do it somewhere else.” A senator had just gone down on a commuter plane and reporters at the crash site had just called in to say that there were no survivors. A major movie star had committed suicide during the night. And two of Hollywood's favorites had just announced that they were getting married. And an earthquake in Mexico had claimed nearly a thousand lives. It was going to be the kind of day that usually tried to give Adrian ulcers. But at least life was interesting for her, or at least that was what Steven said when she complained. Did she really want to live in fantasyland, working on miniseries, and specials about Hollywood ladies? No, but she would have loved to work on a successful prime-time series, and she knew she had enough production experience by now to do that. But she also knew she would never convince Steven that a job like that was worthy of her attention.

“Adrian?”

“Yeah?” For a minute she had let her mind drift to what wasn't and what might have been, and she didn't have time for that, not today at least. And it was also easy to figure out by then that she wasn't going to be having dinner that night with her husband. She asked someone to call and let him know and turned to the assistant who was begging for her attention. There had been a flood on the set and they were going to have to use an alternate studio, but everything was already set up, so there was no need to panic.

It was four o'clock before she ate lunch, and six before she even thought of calling Steven. But by then she knew he had left to play squash with his friends from work, and he knew she was working late anyway. And as she settled down for a long evening at work, she was suddenly struck by an odd feeling of loneliness. It was Friday night, and everyone was out, or at home, or with friends, or getting ready to go on dates, or maybe just curled up with a good book, and she was at work, listening to police reports of local homicides and fatal accidents, and reading telexes of tragedies worldwide. It seemed like a sad way to spend a Friday night, and then she felt foolish for the feeling.

“You're looking awfully gloomy tonight.” Zelda, one of the production assistants, smiled at her as she brought Adrian a styrofoam cup of coffee. She was one of Adrian's favorites, she was always good for a laugh, and she was a character. She was older than Adrian, divorced frequently, and kind of a free spirit. She had bright red hair that sprang from her head like uncontrolled flames and an equally uncontrollable sense of humor.

“Just tired, I guess. Sometimes this place gets to me.”

“At least we know you're still sane.” Zelda smiled at her. She was a pretty woman, and Adrian guessed that she was about forty.

“Doesn't it ever get to you? Christ, the news is always so depressing.”

“I never listen to it.” She shrugged indifferently. “And most nights when I get out of here, I go dancing.”

“I think you've got the right idea.” Most nights, Adrian went home, and Steven was already sound asleep and snoring gently. But at least they had breakfast together in the morning, and there were always weekends.

Adrian struggled through her paperwork for the next four hours, and then she checked out the studio before the late news, chatted with the anchors, and read all the hottest stories. It was actually a pretty quiet night, and she could hardly wait to get home to Steven. She knew he was having dinner out with friends, but she was pretty sure he'd be home when she finished work. He seldom stayed out very late, unless there was something to be gained from it, like some important business with a client.

The late show went fine, predictably, and at eleven thirty-five she was on her way home on the Santa Monica Freeway. She walked in her front door at five minutes to midnight, and the bedroom lights were still on, and her heart leapt with glee as she took the stairs to their bedroom two at a time, and then she laughed when she saw him. Steven was sound asleep on his side of the bed, arms spread out like a boy, exhausted and relaxed after a hard day at the office followed by a lively game of squash and an early dinner. He was out for the count and no amount of rustling around the room would rouse him.

“Well, Prince Charming,” Adrian whispered with a grin as she sat down next to him in her nightgown, “looks like it's a wrap, as they say in my business.” She kissed him gently on the cheek and he never stirred as she turned off the light and curled up on her own side of the bed. And as she lay there, she thought about being late again, but she knew it was probably nothing.

W
HEN
A
DRIAN WOKE UP AT NINE-FIFTEEN, SHE
could smell bacon cooking downstairs, and she could hear Steven clattering around in the kitchen. She smiled to herself as she rolled over in bed. She loved Saturdays, loved having him around, loved it when he brought her breakfast in bed and they made love afterward.