Secrets (9 page)

Bill Warwick felt the opportunity of a lifetime slipping through his fingers, with a drug-addict wife hanging on his coattails. No, I'm not. He prayed that Mel would never find out about Sandy. But there was no reason why he would. No one had ever known they were married. And if she cleaned up, they could always stage a big wedding. She was in no condition for that now, but he felt traitorous anyway for the lie he had just told.

Divorced?

No, sir. That much was true anyway.

Fine. Your fans will love that. And he knew he wasn't gay, at least that was what he had been told. Two of Mel's sources thought he had a regular girl, because he didn't go out much, or hadn't in a while, but they were sure he was straight, and that was good too. Mel Wechsler wanted Phillip Martin to become America's heartthrob, and that meant Bill Warwick. I'd say you're our number one man for the job, what do you think?

Bill's heart was racing ' it was almost in his hands ' almost' I'd love the part, Mr. Wechsler ' I know I would ' and I could do a hell of a job.

Mel Wechsler extended his hand across his desk. I think so too. I'll call your agent with a definite answer in the next few days. He stood up, and Bill had no choice but to do the same, praying that he'd made a decent impression. He wanted to beg him to give him the part. He knew how often people had left meetings like this one, convinced that a part was theirs, only to find out later that they'd lost it to someone else.

I hope I get it, Mr. Wechsler. It was all he could say as their eyes locked, and Bill quietly left the office. He didn't know what to think when he left, and he was a nervous wreck by the time he got to Mike's and called his agent. At the bar, Adam told him to be cool, worrying wouldn't change anything anyway. He had finally told him that he had auditioned for Mel Wechsler, but he didn't say for what. He was still terrified that someone else would get the part. But Harry was encouraging when Bill called.

Relax, baby, it's in the bag. But he had said that before, and it had been in someone else's bag, not Bill's.

I made an ass of myself, Harry.

What'd you do? Kiss him?

No, I mean it. I was just so damn scared I could hardly talk. I probably didn't even make sense.

So what? You're an actor, not a debutante. You got a script, you'll read it, you'll learn it, you'll make sense. Listen, he's been asking all over Hollywood about you. He means business.

What's he asking?

If you're clean, how you work, the usual bullshit. And you're in good shape. Everyone loves you. They both thought the same thing at the same time.

Think anyone's told him about Sandy?

No one knows except me and Tony Grossman, right?

Right.

Well, I'm sure as hell not going to say anything, and Tony never wanted anyone to know she was married. That was when she was on Sunday Supper of course, maybe now he doesn't give a damn, but I don't think he'll say anything. He wants to book her as a virgin again next time. Harry hated Tony Grossman, and Bill knew it, it went back to their early days as agents and Bill had never heard the full story but he knew there was no love lost between them, and in the beginning of his romance with Sandy it had almost turned them into Romeo and Juliet, escaping the Montagues and Capulets, in this case their agents.

He asked me if I was married.

Harry swallowed. And what did you say?

I said I wasn't.

Good boy. He wants to cast you as America's hero, and he wants somebody single and free.

That's what I figured, but I felt like a jerk anyway. What if he finds out?

He won't. You did the right thing. Now shut up and go do something relaxing till he calls.

I'm still working at Mike's.

You won't be for long.

He borrowed one of Harry's own favorite sayings. From your mouth to God's ears.

I'll call you.

Thanks. He hung up the phone and got busy immediately afterwards with the lunch crowd. It seemed years since he had sat across from Mel Wechsler, and it was five o'clock before he had a chance to sit down with a cup of coffee and a hamburger of his own. He sat down at the bar during a break, and watched the news on the television over Adam's head. But he stopped eating very quickly. They were flashing a picture of Sandy as she had looked when she started on Sunday Supper three years before, and it reminded Bill again of how different she looked now, and then they went on to announce that she had been involved in a major drug bust that morning. That morning ' while he was talking to Mel Wechsler ' it made him feel sick again. He sat riveted to his seat, watching the TV, anxious for more news, but they only said that she was being held at the Los Angeles City Jail with five other suspects and this was not her first arrest. It said also that she had been released from the series the year before for breach of contract relating to drug abuse. And then they went on to the next item.

Adam had seen it too, and he said nothing as Bill went to the phone. He figured he was going to try to call her. And he was right. But all they told him at the jail was that she'd already been bailed, and they couldn't tell him by whom. The next five hours seemed more like fifteen. He had called the cottage five or six times but there was never any answer there. And when he got home, he expected to find her passed out on the couch, or lying on the bed, fully dressed and filthy dirty, stoned out of her gourd, with a needle lying nearby. Instead, he found only the mild disorder he had left himself that morning, and Bernie waiting anxiously for his dinner. It was obvious that Sandy hadn't come back to the cottage. And he had a sudden sense that she felt she had gone too far and she was keeping it away from him now. In a way he was glad, and in another way he was sorry. He was so used to rescuing her that he didn't know what to do now. He couldn't just forget her. Her clothes were still hanging in the closet, and stuffed in all the same drawers. Her toothbrush was on the rack next to his, and all her makeup in the case she took to the set. But she didn't use any of it anymore. She didn't care. The clothes no longer fit, and she no longer wore makeup, or even brushed her teeth half the time. All she did was get loaded all day long.

He sat down pensively on the couch, thinking of her, wondering where she was, and the phone rang. It was almost midnight. He was sure it was Sandy. But it wasn't.

Bill?

Yes. His voice was terse. Maybe it was the cops. Maybe she'd been hurt or ' and then he recognized Harry's voice.

Sorry to call so late. I had to go out, and I wanted to call you myself. I figured you wouldn't mind if I called you.

What's up? Bill was frowning. All he could think about was Sandy. He wondered where the hell she was, and in what condition. And then he hated himself for worrying about it. He didn't want to think about her anymore, yet he did ' too damn much, hating and loving her all at once, resenting the misery she brought to his life.

You got it, kid. Harry sounded as happy as he knew Bill would.

Got what? His mind was blank and then suddenly he understood. Oh my God! ' You mean ' I ' I did?

You bet your ass you did, baby. Wechsler's secretary called at six o'clock. They'll send the contracts over next week. And you start shooting in New York December sixth. You report for wardrobe on October nineteenth, and that, my friend, is that. A star is born. How do you like that, Mr. Warwick?

There were tears in Bill's eyes. It had been ten years of hard work and broken dreams, and four years of hope in college before that, and now here it was ' the part of a lifetime. Son of a bitch ' I never thought it would happen.

I did. I sure as hell did. I never doubted it for a minute. And then he remembered something else. I saw the news tonight, by the way. I guess you know' Bill knew he meant Sandy.

Yeah.

Is she with you?

No. I haven't seen her in two days. We had kind of a blowout a couple of days ago. She got busted then too.

Look, do yourself a big favor, Bill, and keep your mouth shut, and keep her away. All you need is for this whole thing to blow up in your face because of her. That girl is trouble.

She's all messed up, that's all. Defending her was second nature to him.

That's enough. And it could cost you this part. Is that what you want?

No. But he couldn't betray Sandy, if she needed his help, he knew he would help her. But he'd be discreet. He had to be now. He had lied to Wechsler about being married. Don't worry about it. I'll be careful.

You'd better be, or he'll sue your ass off, for embarrassing him, and lying to him. And he'll can you so fast your head will spin and I don't blame him. Keep away from her, Bill.

For the moment, it's not a problem.

Keep it that way. And congratulations. You're gonna do great. He sounded moved. I'm proud of you.

Thanks, Harry. He hung up with a smile and a feeling of disbelief, wishing there were someone to share it with. But there was only Bernie, wagging his tail, and waiting for next meal. And Bill had no idea what had happened to Sandy.

Sabina was standing on her terrace in a bathing suit. She had just come up from the pool, and she was thinking. She had had lunch with Mel the day before, and since then she had read the script seven times. Seven. If she wanted to do TV, it would have been exactly what she wanted. And Mel was right. The part of Eloise Martin read as though it had been written for her. They could have been twins. Sabina Quarles and Eloise Martin. In fact, they were the same woman. And if Mel got what he wanted, and Zack Taylor took the male lead, it could be one hell of a show. She knew that was what Mel was counting on, but was it enough? Enough to make her change her mind? It would make her a laughingstock to go back on her word now. Even though she would be doing all the laughing. She had heard from her agent that morning, and they were offering her three million dollars for the first season. Three million. There were other considerations in her life. And three million dollars would take care of all of them, for a long, long time. The truth was, she couldn't afford to turn it down, and the funny thing was she didn't really want to. Yet she still felt she had to think about it. And suddenly as she stood there she laughed, wondering who she was kidding. For three million dollars, there was no decision to be made. She had to do it.

She called Mel at four o'clock, and he was in a meeting at the network. He called her back shortly after six and she had just come out of the shower. She was lying naked on the couch, reading a magazine, her hair wrapped in a huge white terry cloth towel.

Sabina?

Yes. Her voice always gave him the same thrill deep in the pit of his stomach, and he could just imagine what it would do to male viewers all across the country, if he could talk her into doing the show.

Sorry I wasn't here when you called.

That's all right. She smiled the feline smile that was so perfect for the voice. Everything about her fit together, everything was right. There were no pieces misplaced or mismatched or mistaken. I've been doing a little reading since our lunch. She had never called to thank him for lunch. She had wanted to be left alone with the script and now she had her answer.

Should I ask what your reaction is, or should I be polite and wait till you decide to tell me yourself?

She had an idea she liked better. Why don't you come over for a drink and we'll talk about it? At least she wasn't turning him down cold. That was something. How does that sound?

It sounds delightful. What about dinner afterwards?

She was pleased. She liked Mel Wechsler, and she liked being seen with him. And she was going to be seen with him a lot if she took the part. She suspected they'd be seeing a lot of each other. That sounds very nice. In fact, why don't we have the drink here afterwards?

Perfect. I'll pick you up at eight. All right?

Fine. See you then, Mel. It was a purr that made his heart race as he set down the phone. He went home to change and had his secretary make reservations at L'Orangerie. He picked Sabina up at exactly eight o'clock, and he was driving the Mercedes 600 himself, which he liked to do at night. It was a little less awkward, if he was spending the evening with a lady, and you never knew how or where things were going to end. He preferred using his driver only in the daytime.

The restaurant was jammed, and he had chosen it on purpose. Everyone in Hollywood was there, and all heads turned as they walked into the room. There were plenty of people who recognized Sabina, and more who recognized Mel. He was one of the most important men in Hollywood, and together they made an impressive pair, and she looked spectacular as they waited briefly for their table. They waited just long enough for the headwaiter to make sure that everything was the way Monsieur Wechsler liked it, and for everyone to admire the tight white satin dress Sabina had worn. He was sure she was wearing nothing under it, though you couldn't tell, but it clung to her like a second skin and he had the urge to run his hands over her from the moment he picked her up at her apartment. She had also worn long diamond drops hanging from her ears, and sexy white satin very high-heeled sandals. Her blond mane was swept up on her head, and her deep tan set off the white dress in such a way that everyone stared as they made their way to their table.