Heartthrob (40 page)

But now she wouldn’t so much as stand still to talk to him. In fact, she’d flown back to Boston the day after they’d broken up. Annie had told him there was business she had to take care of—something with one of her office supply stores. They were sending the dailies up to her, though, and she was in touch 24/7, by phone.

But today she was coming back.

So although it was entirely possible Jed had finally
snapped, the almost silent sound of weeping coming from the rear of the costumer’s trailer was not the voice of one of the demons who lived in his head.

It was, instead, Susie McCoy.

She was sitting, huddled against the back wall, behind one of the clothes racks.

“I’m sorry,” she said as he pushed aside the clothing and looked down at her. “I started, and now I can’t stop.”

Jed sat down beside her, letting the curtain of clothing close again, hiding them from the rest of the world. “I know what you mean,” he told her. “I’ve always been afraid of that myself.”

“I can’t stand it anymore. I want this to be over, but at the same time, I don’t.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m with you there, too.” He leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. “But if you don’t stop crying, you’ll have nothing to give for the scene this afternoon.”

They were filming one of
The Promise
’s most emotional scenes today—the scene from the beginning of the movie, where Moses was up for sale on the block. Both Jane and Laramie were to look at Moses standing there, and see their own lives wrapped in figurative chains. It was going to be a tough scene to shoot. His stomach started churning, just thinking about it.

“I haven’t seen him in days.” She was talking about Jamaal. “And he’s leaving tomorrow. All I want to do is talk to him, just talk, but if I even say one word outside the scripted dialogue, my father’ll press charges for his broken arm and Jamaal will go to jail.”

“I could see how it might cause a lot of trouble,” Jed said, “but jail?”

She nodded. “Jamaal’s got a police record—from years ago, when he got tapped to join a gang, before his mother moved them out of New York City. My father said since he
wasn’t a first-time offender, Jamaal would probably end up doing time.”

“And … you believe your father?”

Susie wiped her eyes. “I called my lawyer, and he said if it went to trial and Jamaal lost, he could be facing three to five years.” Her chin quivered. “He’s been sending me notes, trying to get me to meet him, but I can’t. Because my father will do it. He’ll press charges. I
do
believe that.” She started to cry again. “I haven’t even seen him in a week.”

God, what a mess. “Has Annie or Kate had any luck getting in touch with your mother?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry,” Jed said softly.

“He always focuses on the mistakes,” she said, almost to herself. “He never tells me when I do okay.”

She was talking about her father now.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m going to throw up from all the pressure inside,” she whispered. “But when I was with Jamaal, he could make me laugh, and I would stop feeling sick. When I was with him, I didn’t feel too short or too fat or too skinny or too stupid or not stupid enough, or whatever my father was currently finding wrong with me. My father never says ‘good job, you were great.’ It’s always, ‘Too bad you aren’t taller.’ Or, ‘I guess they can make you look better in makeup.’
God.
But when I was with Jamaal, when he looked at me, I could see my reflection in his eyes, and you know what? I looked okay.”

“You
are
okay,” Jed told her. “Hell, you’re so much better than okay, it’s not funny.”

“Jamaal and I were just friends,” she told him. Her tears had finally stopped, but she looked exhausted. “But now my father’s gone and blown everything out of proportion. Jamaal probably wants to tell me he doesn’t want anything else to do with me, and I don’t blame him.”

“Well, I can’t speak for Jamaal, but—”

“But you can speak
to
him.” Susie looked at him. “Will you talk to him for me? Tell him that I’m not going to talk to him because I don’t want him to go to jail. Will you tell him that? Please, Jericho?”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to him.” Jed turned to look down at her. “I don’t suppose you’d want to do me a favor and talk to Kate for me?” She was coming back today. His stomach churned again.

Susie gazed innocently up at him. “I will if you want …”

He forced a smile. “Nah, I’m kidding. Bad joke.” That was one thing he was going to have to do for himself. Even if it killed him.

Jamaal was in hell.

This was the scene he’d been dreading most since he’d accepted this part in this film. He was standing on the block, striped nearly naked, save for a very small strip of fabric that covered his privates, and the chains that bound his hands and feet.

He’d tried to imagine how humiliating it would feel to be up here—a beast of burden for sale. He knew there’d be plenty of extras for the crowd scene, and he’d braced himself to face their staring, curious eyes.

But now that he was here, none of that mattered.

Jamaal was only aware of one pair of eyes—Susie’s. And while she was forced to gaze at him from the distance as they shot the scene again and again and again from all different angles, she always looked away in between shots.

Jericho had told him that the Pit Bull had terrorized her into believing if she so much as spoke to Jamaal, he’d end up going to jail.

He could feel the Pit Bull watching him, feel his own rage and helplessness increasing with every heartbeat. He was just as chained as Moses was, because he knew if he approached Susie, she would probably run away.

He’d called his mother last night. She’d listened and sympathized, the way she always did. But she’d asked him why? Why would he fight so hard to be friends with a girl whose father was backward enough to use the N-word?

Jamaal had friends—good friends—who used the word all the time. It was always ‘this niggah’ and ‘that niggah.’ But the word took on an entirely different meaning when coming out of the mouth of a man like Russell McCoy. And Jamaal, he just plain hated it, whoever was using it, brother or no.

But even though he didn’t tell her, he knew the answer to his mother’s question.

He didn’t just want to be friends with Susannah McCoy. He was completely in love with the girl.

And Russell McCoy be damned. There was no way in hell Jamaal was going to go another day without telling her so.

The camera was rolling, tracking Susie as she moved forward, closer to the platform upon which Jamaal stood. The camera was going to dolly around behind her and get an over-the-shoulder shot of him, but right now, its focus was on Susie. He knew that he should stay in character, that he should stare straight ahead, that he shouldn’t look down at her, shouldn’t…

But he
did
look down, straight down into her eyes. She was close enough now for him to see she was crying, her chest heaving with each breath she took. And he knew her well enough to know those weren’t all Jane’s tears. They were Susie’s, too.

Jamaal felt his own eyes fill as he pulled his gaze back up, just in time, before the camera caught him. He felt one tear escape, sliding down his cheek as he stared off at the distant horizon.

“
Cut.
”

It was the word he was waiting to hear. There was about an eight-foot drop from the platform to the ground below,
but somehow he managed to land on his feet, chains and all, right beside Susie.

It was the last thing she was expecting, and for a half a second, she just stared at him, shocked.

He took her arm. “Susannah—”

She pulled away. “No!”

The slave chains he was wearing were authentic—they weren’t designed to win races in, not by any means. “Get these off of me!”

The props assistant sprang to it, but not before the Pit Bull staggered toward him. “You stay away from her! I’m warning you!”

Jamaal stood tall, squaring his shoulders as he glared down at the shorter man. “If I have to go to jail for simply talking to Susannah, so be it.” The last of his chains fell off, and he stepped clear of the pile.

She stood there, watching him, tears streaming down her face. She was ready to pick up her skirts and run like hell, if she had to.

Jamaal knew she didn’t have to. He was hoping he could convince her of that, too.

He held out his hand to her, slowly, carefully. “Come on,” he said gently, moving toward her inch by inch. “We need to talk.”

“I can’t talk to you.”

“Yes, you can.” He looked at the Pit Bull. “Susannah and I are going to step right over here, where you can see us, and we’re going to have a little chat. That’s all. Just an exchange of words. You can call the sheriff if you want, but last time I checked, talking wasn’t a crime.”

He was close enough to Susie now to take her hand. He gently pulled her back with him, far enough away from the others to talk privately.

The Pit Bull hadn’t moved. Jericho, bless him, had intercepted the man. Jamaal could see the older actor talking, keeping the Pit Bull distracted.

“I’m sorry,” Susie whispered. “This is all my fault.”

He didn’t release her hand. Instead he intertwined her fingers with his. “You don’t really believe that, do you, baby?” Damn, he’d missed her so much. Just being with her, just being able to look into her eyes while she talked to him…

She closed her eyes. “You must think I’m so stupid …”

“What I think is, as much as I don’t like your father’s methods, I can relate to what he’s feeling, because I love you, too.”

Her eyes opened, a flash of blue surprise.

“You love me … the way my father loves me …?”

Jamaal had to laugh at that. “Not even close. I could be arrested for some of the ways I want to love you. I’ve been trying hard to be cool about it, but …” He took a deep breath. “It wouldn’t matter so much if you were twenty and I was twenty-three, but you’re only
fifteen.
I can’t touch you, for fear I’ll lose control—and I’m doubly scared to death now I know this thing I’m feeling is something you feel, too. And if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to
have
to kiss you, and your father will give birth to a Tyrannosaurus rex.”

She was smiling at him. Not one of her little, fake-o, pretend smiles, but a huge, beautiful smile that lit her entire face, even though her eyes still shimmered with tears.

“I can’t help it,” she said. “I love you, too, but I was afraid that—”

“No,” Jamaal interrupted her, gently squeezing her hand. “You don’t have to be afraid, ever again.”

Russell McCoy was drunk.

Jed stood in front of him, and he could smell the alcohol on the man’s breath.

He was drunk, and fighting to hold back tears. “Riva left,” he whispered. “First Riva, and now Susie. Susie’s going to leave me, too. I know it.”

The man was scared to death. It was his fear—fear and alcohol—that made him so damned mean.

“Russell, you’ve got to stop drinking,” Jed said evenly. “Every father’s daughter leaves them. It’s what happens when you have kids. They grow up. But they don’t leave you permanently, unless you do something stupid like spend the rest of your life too drunk to think clearly. When was the last time you told Susie that you love her?”

McCoy shook his head. “I don’t remember.”

“No kidding. And would you be amazed to find out that Susie doesn’t remember, either? But she
does
remember you telling her over and over again how she’s not good enough. It’s a miracle she hasn’t had the court appoint her mother full custody. It wouldn’t take much for her to do that, you know.”

The man started to cry.

“I know Jamaal Hawkes scares you to death,” Jed continued, “but look at your kid. Look at that smile. I haven’t seen her smile like that in weeks. Jamaal makes her happy. She’s not doing anything wrong by being with him. And if you took the time to talk to him, you’d realize that he’s a good person.”

“She’s only fifteen, and Jesus, he’s
black
!”

“She’s not looking to marry him.” Jed could see Victor out of the corner of his eye. The camera had been reset. He could tell from the director’s stance that they were ready to go. It was his turn in front of the camera. His stomach rolled. “Susie’s the sweetest, kindest,
smartest
girl I’ve ever met. If you love her—”

“I do.”

“Then, you should reward her with your trust. She’s certainly earned it. And that’s what love is built on. Without trust, there’s nothing there to hold on to.” Damn, listen to him. He sounded like David. He was spouting psychobabble—to a drunk, to boot.

But his words were true. God knows he’d spent a lot of
time these past few days thinking it through. His own life was in shambles because of a lack of trust. Kate hadn’t trusted him. But he should’ve been able to live with that. After all, just as Susie had earned her father’s trust, Jed had earned the entire world’s
mis
trust.

But Kate couldn’t live with
his
mistrust of her. He was carrying this ball of pain inside him, unable to cut it loose, for fear it would consume him. He was unable to trust that Kate and her sweet love could help him work through his anger and grief. Instead, he numbed himself, hiding behind the empty facade of the characters he played.

“Lately I don’t know what she wants,” Russell told him tearily. “I thought she wanted the criticism. When she was younger, it used to upset her, the way everyone always told her how perfect she was. She liked the criticism I gave her. She liked to think she could do better, but she doesn’t seem to want that anymore.”

“I’ll tell you what Susie wants. She wants her father to give her a hug and tell her she’s okay. She wants her father to shake Jamaal’s hand and see
not
the color of his skin, but a young man who cares very deeply for his daughter. She wants her father to be sober, and she wants her father’s trust.” Jed could see Kate, standing next to Victor.
Kate.
She was back. His heart instantly lodged in his throat. “There,” he said to McCoy. “I’ve told you what she wants. Now you know. You can either use it, or be a jackass and ignore it. Your choice.”