Married Lovers (8 page)

L
unching at
The Grill
was a weekly ritual. Ryan and Don were there, but Phil couldn’t make it, he was too busy with his own problems trying to talk his movie-star wife out of resuming her “dead-on-arrival” career.

“How’d it go on your way home last night?” Don asked, ordering a bottle of flat water. “Things didn’t seem so smooth at dinner.”

“We resolved a few issues,” Ryan answered carefully, not about to reveal what had happened in the car on their drive home. Mandy had suddenly reverted to her old ways and attempted to give him head on P.C.H. Once he would’ve got off on it, but this time he’d shoved her away with a vengeance. It wasn’t the time, nor the place. Besides, a blow-job from Mandy didn’t seem right; he’d had a horrible suspicion she’d stop mid-blow and complain about something or other. Mandy had turned into a world-class nag.

The bottom line was that sex with his wife was no longer sexy. She didn’t turn him on in any way, shape or form.

“You know how I feel about your situation,” Don remarked, consulting the menu.

“Everything’s fine,” Ryan lied, spinning his answer to suit himself. “Mandy was upset about Hamilton getting married again, that’s all.”

“Surely she’s used to his crap by now?”

“Seems not.”

“By the way,” Don added, “his latest is on the front page of the
New York Post
. She looks about twelve!”

“That’s when you know you’re getting old,” Ryan said glumly.

“How’s that?”

“When you think everyone looks twelve!”

“You’re the one heading for a mid-life crisis, not me,” Don said, picking up a breadstick. “I have another six months before I hit the big four O. And y’know what–I I don’t give a shit.”

“Why would you?” Ryan said restlessly. “You’ve got it made. You built your own home, you have plenty of money, a great career, your health, your freedom,
and
you’re fucking famous, not to mention good-looking. Shit! Who wouldn’t be happy being you?”

Don signaled for their waiter. “Y’know,” he confided, “I called that girl I told you about, the personal trainer. I’m working out with her every day at seven, starting tomorrow.”

“Working out?”

“My body, jerk,” Don said, flashing a grin. “Gotta keep the machine in action.”

“I thought you liked her.”

“I do. So this way I get to know her on neutral ground. No dating hassles.”

“You’re paying her, right?”

“Of course I am.”

“Then isn’t it kind of like having a hooker come over without the sex?”

“You’re sick,” Don said, shaking his head, but laughing all the same.

“Think about it,” Ryan insisted. “You’re
paying
the girl to spend time with you. No commitments.”

“Do me a fucking favor, straighten out your own crap before you start criticizing mine.”

“I’m trying to be helpful, Don.”

“You’re about as helpful as a sack of shit.”

“Thanks!”

“What’s bothering you anyway?” Don asked. “I thought you said everything was okay between you and Mandy.”

“Hey–nothing’s perfect,” Ryan said gloomily.

“Then do something about it,” Don suggested, determined to jog Ryan into taking some kind of action. “Divorce is not such a disgrace, it’s more a rite of passage, especially in this town. Man, I did it twice. It cost me, but damn it was worth it!”

“In my family divorce is admitting total failure,” Ryan said, thinking of his mother’s disappointment if he even so much as mentioned the word divorce. “My parents were married forever.”

“C’mon, Ryan, it’s not as if you have kids. You’re feeling it’s over, so you owe it to yourself to make a move.”

“I don’t know,” Ryan said unsurely.

“It’s about time you hauled your sorry ass in to see my shrink,” Don said. “She’ll set you straight. I’ll find out if she does couples therapy.”

“Mandy won’t go for it.”

“Too bad she has your balls in a vise,” Don said dryly. “I can remember when—”

“Can we drop it?” Ryan interrupted. “It’s not that easy.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Don said as their waiter approached. “I’m ordering a big juicy steak and a shitload of French fries. Gotta get my strength up for my new girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Ryan questioned.

“She could be.”

“You really like this one, huh?”

“I’m giving her a test run. We’ll see.”

“You’re jealous, that’s what your reluctance to help me is all about,” Lucy yelled. “But trust me, Phil, I’m going to make a big comeback with or without your help.”

“What is it that you want that I don’t give you?” Phil yelled back. “You’ve got everything you could ever want. I fucking don’t get it.”

“You wouldn’t. You’re too busy screwing any piece of ass who looks at you sideways.”

“Oh for Christ sakes, that again.”

“How would you like it if I did the same?” she retaliated, determined to get her point across.

“I’d break your fucking neck.”

“Fuck you, Phil.”

“Fuck you, Phil,” screamed their parrot, hopping around his cage.

“I’m going to kill that goddamn bird,” Phil roared.

“Make sure you don’t fuck it first,” Lucy responded, before stalking out of the kitchen.

She was making a comeback, and no one was stopping her.

Mandy spent the morning attempting to reach her father while avidly studying the coverage about his engagement in the newspapers and on the Internet. She was particularly incensed with the story in the
New York Post
. Not only did they have his new girlfriend’s picture on the front of the paper, but there was a bitchy piece on page six about the age difference between Hamilton and his intended, also the number of wives he’d had. Fortunately it didn’t mention her, although it should have, since she was far more important than any of his damn wives, considering
she
was the heir apparent to the Heckerling fortune. Mandy Heckerling. They should kiss her Hollywood Princess ass. Everyone should.

She was also furious that Ryan had flatly refused her offer of sex last night. It was hard to understand why. Yes, she had to admit that their sexual activities had kind of dwindled in the last couple of years. But when she’d offered him head in the car he’d turned her down when he should’ve been wild with enthusiasm. What was
that
all about?

The thought occurred to her that maybe he had a girlfriend on the side.

Then she decided–no–absolutely no way. One thing about Ryan–he was not a cheater.

Or was he?

Doubts began creeping into her mind.

According to her father, all men cheated. That was the way of the world according to Hamilton J. Heckerling.

Men are cheaters.

Women are not to be trusted.

And most people are dumb
.

When she called Lolly again to find out if there was any further news, Lolly’s voicemail picked up. Frustrated, Mandy set off to get a manicure, a pedicure and a facial.

At least a few hours of maintenance would take her mind off things. Temporarily.

T
he meeting between Cameron, Cole and his sister, Natalie, took place at the bar in the Beverly Wilshire Hotel. When Natalie de Barge walked in, heads turned. Clad in a black cashmere sweater and white pants, a grey fedora perched on her head, conversations stopped as people observed this vibrant black woman with stunning good looks. Natalie was also a successful TV entertainment reporter, co-host of a popular nightly TV show that rivaled
E.T.
and
Extra
.

After fifteen minutes of small talk, Cameron began carefully laying out her business plans. Natalie slowly sipped a Cosmopolitan and listened intently, asking pertinent questions here and there.

When Cameron was finished she finally spoke. “Okay, this is what I want,” she said, tapping her glossy nails on the table. “If I’m about to invest my hard-earned money in this venture, then my baby bro’ gotta be a full partner. I’ll put up fifty per cent of the upfront money. But that’s the deal. Cole, full partner–fifty fifty. No negotiation.”

“Wow!” Cameron said, trying to remain cool, although she was thrilled that her dream might just be coming true. “That’s no problem, Natalie. Cole and I get along great, and believe me–it’ll be a relief to go into business with a partner, someone I can absolutely depend on and trust.”

“Yeah,” Cole agreed, laughing. “Someone you don’t havta sleep with.”

“You mean you haven’t converted him?” Natalie asked, straight-faced. “A gorgeous girl like you?”

“Not yet,” Cameron replied, playing along with the joke. “But I swear I’ll keep trying. I can be very persuasive.”

“In that case, I’m definitely in,” Natalie said, with a big smile.

“For real?” Cameron said, her green eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Yup,” Natalie said, still smiling. “You can go over all the details with my business manager, Laura Lizer. She’s one tough cookie, so don’t even think about screwing me.”

“
Puleeze!
” Cole interjected. “As if.”

“Okay, kids, then that’s it,” Natalie said.

“Fantastic!” Cameron exclaimed, turning to Cole. “It means we can go for the location we saw, and start renting equipment immediately.”

“Thanks, sis, you won’t regret it,” Cole said, standing up.

“I’d better not,” Natalie said, also getting to her feet and exchanging a warm hug with her brother. “Oh, and I expect free use of the facilities for me and my friends whenever we feel the urge to get fit.”

“For you–it’s free,” Cole said, all business. “Your friends–they gotta pay.”

“Hard ass,” Natalie said, mock-pouting.

“I learned from the best–
you
!”

“Such a sweet talker.” Natalie sighed, picking up her Fendi purse. “Have fun, kids. We’ll talk some more tomorrow. Right now I got a hot date with Brad and Angelina.”

“I can’t believe it!” Cameron said, as Natalie strolled off. “We’re actually on our way! Shall we tell Lynda?”

“Tell whoever the hell you want,” Cole replied. “I knew Natalie wouldn’t let us down.”

“Hmm…” she mused. “Maybe we should wait until everything’s settled, then we can go out and celebrate.”

“You got it,” Cole said, psyched that his sister had come through; it proved that she really believed in him, and that was something he hadn’t expected.

He and Cameron exchanged hugs.

“To partners!” Cole said. “We’re gonna kick it, girl. We’re gonna open the best fuckin’ sports club in the city!”

“You bet we are,” she agreed. “And right now I’d better call Iris and secure that space.”

“Go ahead. Do it.”

Cameron fished out her cell and punched in the realtor’s number.

Iris picked up the second ring. “Oh dear,” she said, all embarrassed. “I think it might be gone.”

“We asked you to put it on hold,” Cameron said sharply. “We saw it first and now we want it.”

“Yes, dear, I know,” Iris said, quite flustered. “But you promised to get back to me.”

“We
are
getting back to you,” Cameron said, pulling a face at Cole and deciding she’d go freaking nuts if they lost the space. “C’mon, Iris, it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Iris said.

“Not good enough. Write up an offer, that space is
ours
!” she said, clicking off her phone.

“Aint nobody gonna mess with you,” Cole joked. “You’re one hard-assed woman.”

“She’ll come through,” Cameron said. “She’d better.”

After they left the hotel, Cameron was too wired to go home, and not in the mood for a return visit to Marlon. Cole had a hot date, so on impulse she stopped by Mr Wasabi’s, picked up her dogs, bundled them in the back of her Mustang, and set off for the beach.

She drove fast all the way down Sunset, making it to Paradise
Cove in under an hour. After parking the Mustang she let Yoko and Lennon run wild on the beach. It was a beautiful night with a strong breeze and a high surf. Watching her dogs romp along the sand, she felt as if she could fly. What a day! It all seemed such a long way from two years ago when she’d fled Hawaii battered and bruised with nothing but bad memories and a broken arm.

Sometimes she wondered why Gregg had never come looking for her, then she realized he was probably too ashamed to face her. Ashamed and sorry–at least, she
hoped
he was sorry.

She didn’t care. He’d turned out to be a monster, and she prayed that she’d never have to set eyes on him again.

Yoko and Lennon were racing all over the place, splashing in the surf, barking, rolling in the sand, reveling in their freedom.

After a while she realized it was time to rein them in and start doing some serious planning. Iris had better come through with the location, it was so damn perfect. And now she had a partner. One of her best friends. What could be better?

By the time she got back to her house it was almost midnight. She’d forgotten she had Don Verona at seven in the morning. Damn! Too early!

Setting her alarm for six she slept fitfully. She needn’t have bothered, because she was up at five anyway, too charged up to sleep.

After walking her dogs, and eating a healthy breakfast of wheat toast and scrambled egg whites, she pulled on a tracksuit and her favorite Pumas, then set off for Don’s house.

When she got there she had to ring the doorbell several times before a bleary-eyed Don opened the front door himself. It was apparent that he’d rolled out of bed to do so, because he was barefoot, his dark hair ruffled, wearing nothing but baggy blue pajama bottoms and a winning smile.

“You’re not ready,” she said, meaningfully tapping her watch. “It’s seven a.m.”

“Ah, jeez,” he said, attempting to stifle a yawn. “I got caught up in something–ended ended up having a late night.”

“When you’re set to work out at seven a.m. you’re not supposed to have late nights,” she said briskly, entering his house.

“Can we leave it today?” he said, yawning again.

“Fine with me, but you should know that I’m charging you anyway.”

“Send me a bill,” he said, scratching his head. “I’m good for it.”

She almost turned to leave, then thought better of it. “Can I ask you something?” she said, giving him a direct look.

“Ask away,” he said, enjoying her refreshing beauty. She was so damn…glowing.

“Maybe I got the wrong impression,” she scolded, “but I thought you
wanted
to do this.” She paused, allowing her words to sink in. “Weren’t you the one all gung-ho about getting into shape?”

“Didn’t you tell me I was already
in
shape?” he responded, hardly able to take his eyes off her lips which were begging to be kissed.

“Kind of. But that doesn’t mean you couldn’t use some extra toning.”

“You think so?” he asked, imagining those lips on his, imagining her naked and in his bed next to him.

“Yes,” she said, her eyes checking out his physique–which she had to admit was quite impressive. Hard abs, firm arms, a muscular chest. She wondered what had happened to his previous trainer, because it was quite obvious he was into working out.

“Look,” he said, wishing she’d shut the fuck up and come into his bedroom with him, “whyn’t you do us both a favor, go in the kitchen and make a pot of coffee while I throw something on.”

“Are you kidding?” she said incredulously.

“
What
?” he said, squinting. “Did I say something wrong?”

“You want coffee, then I suggest you make it yourself.”

“Huh?” he mumbled, not getting it.

“Surely you have a housekeeper?” she said, incensed that he was treating her as if she was merely there to do his bidding.

“It’s not my deal to have anybody around on a permanent basis.”

“Then I suppose a wife is out the question?” she drawled sarcastically.

“Why?” he said with a sly grin. “You applying for the job?”

“Some job,” she murmured scornfully.

“Jeez, you’re difficult,” he grumbled.

“No,” she said, answering quickly. “I’m merely professional, and you should be too.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, holding up his hand. “Stop lecturing me.
I’ll
put on the coffee, then
I’ll
get into my work-out clothes and we’ll do fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes?” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re paying me for an hour.”

“You’ve got money on the mind, lady. I
said
I’ll pay you. Do I look like a welsher?”

“I hate wasting
my
time and
your
money.”

“And she’s thoughtful too,” he teased.

“I try to be.”

They exchanged a long look.

“How about dinner tonight?” he said, tired of wasting time.

“Excuse me?”

“Dinner. Tonight,” he said patiently. “Two people sitting at a table eating food. It’s a local custom. Very popular.”

“No.”

“No what?”

“No thank you.”

He threw her a quizzical look. “Are you gay?”

“What?” she said, outraged.

“Into women?”

“Oh, I see,” she said. “I don’t want to go out with you, so automatically you assume I’m gay.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with it–I mean if you
were
gay,” he said, studying her beautiful face. “Although, I have to say, it’d be a terrible waste. However—”

“I am not gay,” she said firmly. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Married? Engaged?” he pushed.

“What is this–an inquisition?”

“Kinda. I’d like to take you to dinner and you keep on saying no. There has to be a reason.”

“How about you’re not my type.”

“Now
you’re
kidding, right?”

“I don’t date actors.”

“I’m not an actor.”

“You’re on TV. Same thing.”

“I host my own talk show. Totally different.”

“I don’t date celebrities.”

“Who
do
you date?”

“You know what–
I’ll
make the coffee,” she said, deciding to put an end to a conversation that was becoming far too personal and going nowhere. “Go put on your work-out clothes and we’ll get in half an hour of weight training.”

“And so she changes the subject,” he drawled.

“Go!” she ordered.

“Yes,
ma’am
,” he said, mock-saluting.

He couldn’t help smiling as he made his way into his dressing room and grabbed trackpants and a T-shirt. This one was so different from the women he was used to. She was beautiful–but they all were. She had a great body–but they all did. Cameron had something else going for her; she struck him as not only stunningly beautiful, but honest, self-confident and unimpressed with his fame. Very refreshing. And best of all she was not
prepared to succumb to his considerable charms, and that
was
most unusual.

But she didn’t want to go out with him, and he had to find out why. It was in his nature to get to the bottom of things. It wasn’t as if he was some crazy pervert she’d met on the Internet or picked up in a club. He was Don Verona, and most women creamed at the thought of any interaction with him.

So what was wrong with her?

By the time he got back to the kitchen the coffee was bubbling in the pot and she was busy chopping fruit.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“You can’t work out on an empty stomach,” she said crisply. “It’s not the right way to start the day.”

“I never eat in the mornings.”

“You do now,” she said, pushing back a lock of blonde hair that kept on drifting into her very appealing green eyes. “It’ll give you more energy.”

“Are you always this bossy?” he asked, picking up a slice of mango with his fingers.

“Only when I need to be.”

“And that would be now?”

“Seems to be the case,” she said, handing him a slice of banana.

“Who
are
you?” he said, wondering for a moment if one of his friends had sent her to mess with his head. That would be their idea of a joke. Not too funny.

“Your new trainer,” she answered briskly. “I don’t know what kind of excuses the last one let you get away with, but things they are a-changing!”

“They are?”

“Oh, yes.”

And once more their eyes met, and once more Cameron silently warned herself to be careful. This guy was a player, and she wasn’t about to fall for his game. No. She had far more important
things on her mind, and Don Verona could turn out to be an unwelcome distraction.

Keep on remembering that
, she warned herself.
No involvements. Work first
.

And yet…Gregg was almost a distant memory, and she’d had no one to share things with. No man to hold her at night. Marlon didn’t count. And…

No! No! No!
a stern voice screamed in her head.
It ain’t gonna happen. No way. No how
.

End of story.