L.A. Confidential (17 page)

“I miss having a career even more. Can't you understand? This is everything I've dreamed of, everything I've wanted. The chance to make movies, to be a player. For five years I've felt useless, like I didn't even have a purpose for being on the planet. And now I do.”

“Maybe your purpose is to be with me.”

She blinked back a tear, but didn't answer.

Ken shook the comment off. “Sorry, that's not fair. Of course you have to do what you love. But this isn't your only shot. Winston knows you'll have offers coming out of your ears. He's just trying to lock you in. There will be other offers.”

“Can you promise me that? Can you put it in writing and swear to me I'll find work if I tell Winston no?”

He took a deep breath, then shook his head. “No. All I can tell you is I love you.”

“I know.” She swallowed, wanting to throw her arms around his neck and cry until she couldn't cry any more. Instead she sat up straighter, knowing she was going to
hurt him, but unable to help that. “I know. I—I love you, too.” Tears streamed down her face, but she didn't wipe them away. “The thing is, I just don't think that love is enough.”

L
ISA PRESSED
her forehead against the glass, looking down twenty floors from her office to watch a horse-drawn carriage head into Central Park. The intercom buzzed. “Ms. Neal? It's Mr. Scorcese's agent.”

“Thanks.”

She turned around and picked up the phone, then spent the next ten minutes hashing out the basics of a directing deal for a new film Avenue F was developing. When she finally hung up, she fell exhausted into the chair behind her desk. In front of her, scripts and contracts were piled up, leaving not even a square inch of desktop.

Three weeks back in New York. The
Velvet Bed
sequel was heavy into preproduction. She was juggling six other projects. That morning alone she'd talked to executives at Universal, Paramount and Warner Brothers.

In other words, she was doing exactly what she'd always wanted. Finally, she was living her dream.

She should be ecstatic. Instead she just felt hollow.

The intercom buzzed again. “Ms. Neal? It's Greg.”

She snatched up the phone, happier than she'd been in weeks. “Hey! Where are you?”

“Still in L.A. How's the Big Apple?”

“Fabulous. It's great. I love it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Greg said quickly. “I'm just distracted.”
Silence filled the line, and then, “Have you talked to him?”

Tears welled, and she ran the side of her finger under her eyes. “No. I—I haven't reached him.” Actually, she hadn't tried. She'd been too afraid of what he'd say if she called.

“I went to the anniversary celebration at Oxygen,” he said.

“You did?” Her throat felt parched, and she reached for the diet Coke can on her desk. “How was it?”

“Fine. Ken looked good.”

“Oh.” She pressed her lips together, trying to not cry. “Is he still living in the Bellisimo?”

“Not according to the paper,” Greg said. “Last month's issue said he bought a house in Santa Monica. Oxygen's doing better than ever. He's even opening one in the Valley. Studio City, I think.”

“Oh.” He was doing exactly what he said he would. Getting on with his life. Balancing a life with his career. She wondered if he mowed his own lawn. Even more than that, she wondered if he was dating. Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to ask Greg that.

“So, what's your mom say?” Greg asked.

“She thinks it's great.” When Lisa had called to tell her mom and sister that she'd taken a position as a development executive, they'd been happy for her. But somehow, the thrill she'd always expected to hear wasn't there. Her mom was proud, sure. But nothing felt different.

“But…?”

“Nothing. I just realized that I'm the only one who cares. I mean, they're glad I have a job, but so long as I like it, they're happy.”

“Well, it is your life.”

“I know. And I always thought I knew exactly what I wanted. And now that I have it…” She shrugged, even though Greg couldn't see her.

“You're not sure you want it?”

“No. I want it.” Now that she'd tasted it, she wanted it more than ever, if that were possible. “This is my life. It's what I do, who I am, and I love it. I really do. I just…I just wonder if I don't love Ken even more.”

And she wondered if she'd made the biggest mistake of her life walking away. Most of all, though, she wondered if she could fix it.

 

“I'
M GLAD YOU REVISED
the plans,” Tim said. “This location's much better suited for a diner than a restaurant like Oxygen.”

Ken shifted his hard hat as he looked at the plans spread out on the dusty table. The day after Lisa left, he'd closed the lease for this site then completely revamped the concept for the restaurant, deciding the Studio City location was going to be a diner.

“You need to find me someone to help with the menu.”

“Someone!” Tim looked shocked. “That's a task I'll happily take over.”

“Uh-huh.” Ken grimaced. “Nothing personal, but we want burgers and fries here. Not veal and caviar.”

“Trust me. An
artiste
is always right.”

Ken smiled, but his heart wasn't in it. A familiar wave of melancholy washed over him, and he focused on the plans, trying to get his head back together.

“She's doing what she has to do.”

He nodded. “I know. I'd just hoped…” He shrugged.
“I guess I'd hoped that after she left she'd come back. That she'd walk through the door of the anniversary party and we'd start over.”

“And you were hoping she'd be the one looking at these plans with you instead of me.”

“Nothing personal.”

“No offense,” Tim said. “I don't look nearly as good in a dress as she does. Though I think this hard hat does give me some allure.” He struck a Mr. Universe pose. “What do you think? The women are going to start coming in droves, right?”

Ken didn't laugh, but he did crack a smile, and for that he was grateful. He checked his watch. “It's almost four. I need to get home and see if the workmen need anything.” He was having the kitchen renovated, and the contractor always seemed to have questions at the end of the day.

“You're just rebuilding everything these days.”

“Metaphor for my life.” Maybe if he built something new, he'd finally forget about the old. Though he doubted it. Even more so than when she'd left the first time, Lisa was ingrained in his heart and etched in his soul.

It was his own fault, of course. Only an idiot would concoct a revenge-by-sex scheme and assume that he could walk away unscathed. He was an idiot, all right. An idiot completely in love with a woman who didn't love him. No, she loved him. She just didn't realize how much.

“You could fly to New York, you know. Convince her. Even try the bicoastal thing.”

Ken nodded. “I thought about it. But it's not just the distance—it's everything she believes, it's everything she wants. I mean, she told me she loved me. But she
also told me it doesn't matter, because she needs to focus on her career.” He looked Tim in the eye. “She doesn't want me in New York. She doesn't even want to try.”

“So what are you going to do?”

Ken shrugged, his shoulders heavy from the weight of his melancholy. “Miss her. Love her. Get on with my life.” Even though the last thing he wanted was a life without Lisa. “And keep believing that it's not over. I saw her eyes. I know she loves me. And even though I don't think she's realized it, I know she's changed.” He looked Tim in the eye. “She will come back.”

“I hope you're right.”

Ken nodded. So did he. More than anything, so did he.

Finished at the diner, he headed back toward Santa Monica. Traffic on the 405 was murder, of course, and that just added to his already foul mood.

Once inside, he headed straight for the kitchen to face the day's minicrisis. Today's was wallpaper.

“This, or this?” Arnold asked, holding up two sample sheets.

Ken wasn't in the mood to choose, his mind on Lisa, not on his walls. “What do you like?”

Arnold shrugged. “I like the thinner stripes but, Tony, he likes the thick better.”

“Maybe you should flip a coin.”

“You don't have a preference?” Arnold's voice sounded so hopeful.

“Sorry. Not in the mood today.” He turned around to leave, hoping to catch a quick nap.

“Maybe we should ask the young lady's opinion.”

Ken froze, then turned around to face the older man. “Excuse me?”

“The young lady. On the couch. She's been here for hours.”

Ken practically tripped over his feet getting to the living room. And sure enough, there she was.

Lisa. Sitting right there, her hands twisting in her lap. A look of restrained hopefulness on her face.

“Hi, Ken,” she said. He saw her take a deep breath. “I came back to say I'm sorry.”

“I see.” He wanted to keep a poker face, but he was sure surprise and curiosity were leaking through. “Sorry about what? Sorry about the way you left? Sorry you hurt me? Sorry there can't be anything between us?”

“All of the above,” she said and his heart fell. “Except the last.”

The wave of disappointment vanished as her words sunk in. “
Except
the last,” he repeated, needing to make sure he got it right.

“Right. I mean…if I'm not too late.”

“So you're here because…” He couldn't finish the thought, too afraid he was reading her wrong.

She stood. “I've got everything I ever wanted working with Winston. It's been an amazing three weeks. I've had lunch with Oscar-winning directors and actors. I've made deals I only dreamed about. It's been fabulous.”

“Congratulations.” He knew his voice was tight, but he couldn't help it. “I know that's what you've always wanted. I'm happy for you. Really.”

“Yes, well, have you ever heard the saying, ‘Be careful what you wish for'?”

He took a deep breath. He needed to know why she was there, and he needed to know now. “What are you telling me, Lisa?”

“I got everything I ever wanted…and then I realized I didn't have everything after all.”

“What don't you have?”
Him?
He thought so, but he couldn't ask her outright, didn't want to run the risk of being hurt again.

A smile teased the corner of her mouth. “I need a favor,” she said.

“A favor?”

This time it was her turn to take a deep breath. “I need someone to show me around Los Angeles. Permanently, this time.”

His heart twisted, and he took a step toward her, wondering if it could really be true. After all this time, had Lisa finally really realized she loved him—and finally understood what that meant? “What are you saying, Lisa? Tell me. In plain English, tell me what you want.”

“I want you. Permanently. Here.”

“What about your job?”

“I, uh, I quit.”

“You quit?”

“I had to.” She moved toward him until they were just an arm's length apart. “I had to prove to myself I'm not afraid anymore.”

“And now you're not?”

“No. I still am. A little, anyway.” She took a deep breath. “I'm going to need a lot of help through this.”

The band around his heart loosened. She'd come back to him. He'd had faith in her this time, and he'd been right. “So you're telling me that you can love me. What about resenting me?”

She swallowed, then straightened her shoulders. “I'm
making my own choices. There's nothing to resent you for. I just need you here to hold my hand.”

He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “That's something I'm happy to do.” He paused. “So you really quit.” His Lisa, taking the plunge like that. “I guess it must be love.”

She looked him in the eye, and he saw the truth reflected in her tears. “It is.”

“Where are you going to work?”

“At first I didn't know. But after my plane landed, Winston called. He said if I was really serious about moving back to L.A., that he could set me up in an office out here.”

“So you said yes, of course.”

She shook her head. “No. I told him I'd call him tomorrow. I'll probably take it. But I figured I should think about it. See what my other options are.”

He reached out for her, and she moved easily into his arms. “I love you, Lisa.”

“I know. I love you, too.” She pressed her face against his chest.

“About that favor you wanted…” He couldn't hide the tease in his voice, and she looked up, her eyes wide and playfully wary.

“Yes?”

“I was thinking another quid pro quo.”

Her forehead furrowed. “Okay…what?”

He let go of her hand long enough to step into his bedroom and take the small velvet box from the top drawer of his bureau. When he came back out, he handed it to her. “You. You want someone to show you around Los Angeles permanently. I want you.”

She opened the box, her eyes going wide as she saw the solitaire inside. “Oh, Ken…”

“I wanted to give this to you five years ago. I hope you'll accept it now.”

A single tear streamed down her face, but the delight in her eyes erased any fears he had that the tear was other than one of happiness. “Is this a proposal?”

“As a matter of fact, it is.”

She slipped her finger through the ring, joy shining in her face. “In that case, this is an acceptance.”

Three years later

“Y
OU'LL BE OKAY
?”
Lisa nibbled on her lower lip as Tim held out his arms for Claire.

“He's great with kids,” Ken said, passing their year-old daughter to the chef. They were in the dining room of Oxygen, where Tim slid into a chair, with Claire happily settled on his lap.

“I know.” She flashed Tim a rueful smile. “It's just…”

“It's just you don't trust me.”

She laughed. “I do. It's only…”

“My wife's neurotic,” Ken said.

“This, I know.” Tim bounced Claire. “Is your mommy neurotic? Can you say neurotic?”

“Na ga,” Claire gurgled.

Ken squeezed her hand, and Lisa squeezed back. “Come on. We can do this. It's a big night.”

She nodded. It was a huge night. The second movie she'd produced for Avenue F—after it landed the deal with Universal Studios—was up for best picture.

“And your limo's not going to wait forever.” He stood, clutching Claire to his side. “Now go on. Your daughter
and I want to see you up on that stage making one hell of an acceptance speech.” He turned to Ken. “And as soon as your mother-in-law gets in, I'll pass Claire and concentrate on the post-ceremony party. There's going to be a hell of a crowd here in a few hours.”

“Sorry the plane was delayed.”

“Not your problem. And it gives me the chance to bond with my goddaughter.” He nodded toward the door. “Now go.”

They did, and Lisa couldn't keep her eyes off Ken as they took the stairs from the mezzanine to the lobby. He looked handsome in the tux, but he also looked proud, and she knew that look was for her.

“What?” he asked.

“What?”

“You're staring.”

A smile touched her lips. “I just wanted to say thank-you.”

“For what?”

“For loving me. For being here.”

For three years they'd juggled careers—and a family—as she'd struggled to get Avenue F even more firmly on the map. As it turned out, being in Los Angeles helped, and Winston never let her forget that he'd been generous enough to suggest it.

Even now she was amazed that she could spread herself so thin. But she never felt thin. Not with Ken. Not with Claire. Not with work. They energized her. And she loved them all—her family most of all.

She squeezed his hand. “Thank you for putting up with me.”

His laugh delighted her as always, and he pulled her
close. “Sweetheart, I'll put up with you forever. I love you, you know.”

She nodded. She did know. And, fortunately for her, she'd figured out what that meant before it was too late.

He helped her into the limo, then settled in next to her. “So, are you nervous?”

“Nervous?” she asked, even though she knew exactly what he meant.

“Tonight. It's a big deal.”

She half shrugged. “It's just an award, not that big a deal. Between you and Claire, I've already got everything I need.”

His arm closed around her shoulders and she leaned in close. “It's a sweet sentiment, but you know I don't believe you.”

She couldn't help the laugh that escaped. He knew her so well. “I know.” She twisted in his arms to see his eyes. “And you know that's one of the reasons I love you?”

He didn't answer her, just kissed her, but she was more than happy to take that as a yes.