Chapter 19

THREE DAYS HAD gone by since Michael had spent the night at Ellen’s apartment and she hadn’t heard from him once. It was so incredible she could hardly make herself accept that the silence was real. It just didn’t seem possible after the way they had made love that he could have left so abruptly the next morning, already an hour late for a meeting, and made no attempt to get in touch after. There had been no time for breakfast, not even a shower, as he’d pulled on his clothes, kissed her briefly on the cheek and run out the door. She was sure he’d said something about calling her later, but whether she’d imagined that or not was irrelevant now, as there had been no word from him at all and were it not for the anger and hurt she was feeling she might have believed she’d made the whole night up. Indeed, she almost wished she had, for the memory of the way she had shed her clothes at a mere touch of his lips was almost too excruciating to bear. But it had felt so right at the time, so very much what she wanted and what he wanted too. It was probably crazy to think it, but it had felt like the coming together of two people who had already waited too long for something that was quite simply meant to be. Such was the power of self-delusion.

It was now the night before the première of United We Fall and whether she was still supposed to be going with him she had no idea. In truth she didn’t really know if he was still in town, for nothing in the world would induce her to call his hotel to find out. OK, she only had to speak to the telephone clerk, but her pride wouldn’t even allow her to do that. Or perhaps it wasn’t pride as much as fear, for she didn’t know which was worse: that he might still be here and ignoring her, or that he had left without as much as a goodbye. Of course he had to be here because of the première and he was no doubt rushed off his feet, dashing from one meeting to the next, wining and dining producers, actors, directors, distributors, newspaper editors, talk show hosts, you name it, but she didn’t see how any of it prevented him picking up a phone, so unless he was hospitalized or dead, no excuse was going to be good enough to get her to forgive him for treating her like this. At least it wouldn’t have been until this evening, but now, as the countdown to the première began, she could feel her resolve starting to waver in a way she just knew she was going to end up regretting.

She hated herself for it, but having spent the entire weekend smarting with fury, she was now so dangerously close to tears that it was all that was stopping her picking up the phone. The last thing she wanted was for him to hear the hurt and apprehension in her voice and besides, if he did still want her to go to the première he’d have called by now. So she had her answer already. She’d give anything to be able to speak to Matty, but Ted Forgon had called her into his office today and told her he wanted to let Matty go. That had been the opener for what had turned out to be the day from hell. Threatening to drop Matty was another test of her mettle, Ellen was sure of that, but coming out of the blue the way it had, when she’d been convinced Forgon was calling her in to discuss Michael, had thrown her completely. In fact, she was so shocked by his failure to mention Michael at all, when he must have known Michael was in town, that the fight she’d put up to protect Matty was so shaming she wasn’t sure she could face her cousin until she’d managed to put it right. Which she would, for there was just no way she was firing Matty from the agency, unless she herself walked, of course, which she was getting closer to every day.

After the blow about Matty and the disappointment of not being instructed to get to work on Michael, which, if nothing else, would have provided her with an excuse to contact him, she had received a call from Foster McKenzie that had left her in no doubt what he was expecting as gratitude for allowing her to bring off the deal for Walker Nicolas. Incensed by his assumption and outraged that he rated her along with the airheads of the industry, she’d ended up putting the phone down on him, which might not have been the wisest move she’d ever made, but it was definitely one of the more satisfying. At lunch-time some uninsured maniac had rammed her precious Pontiac while she was on her way to a meeting with Mel Gibson’s managers, making her an hour late and liable to pay the two thousand dollars of damage out of her own pocket. She’d failed to get one of her more celebrated clients the lead in a new Levinson movie, her secretary had announced she was leaving and her mother had called to say her father was unwell. It was probably no more than a bad case of flu, but with the way things were between her and her father it was a constant fear of Ellen’s that something would happen to him before they repaired things.

So now, here she was, having backed out of the cocktails she was supposed to be at, sitting in a corner of the sofa hugging a cushion to her chest and wishing the whole damned world would go away. Better still, she wished the god-damned phone would ring and Michael McCann would be at the other end. She liked to think she would tell him where to go, but feeling as bruised by the day as she did, his shoulder to cry on would have been more than welcome. But it obviously wasn’t going to happen and as the minutes ticked by and the phone remained obdurately silent the disappointment became more crushing than ever.

A jolt of impatience suddenly jerked her to her feet and snatching up the phone she carried it out to the veranda. Her heart was pounding as anger eclipsed her self-pity and drove her into action. She was done mooning around here like some faint-hearted Freda, wallowing in all the reasons she couldn’t get on with her life. Michael McCann was obviously already history, so if sleeping with Foster McKenzie was her only way out of ATI then she was damned well going to get things moving. Like Rosa said, he wasn’t so bad and when it came to the giants in this town they didn’t come much bigger than McKenzie. So, give the man what he wants and in exchange take his protection from Forgon. For God’s sake, she wouldn’t be the first woman to get to the top this way, and who could say, if she played it real smart she might just end up the next Mrs Foster McKenzie with the private jet, half dozen homes, luxury yachts and unlimited kudos that went with it.

She had just connected with McKenzie’s private number when there was a knock on the door. Irritated beyond measure at being interrupted, she threw down the phone and went back inside. It would either be Matty, whom security had been instructed to let through without calling up first, or one of her neighbours wanting to know if she could make the next residents’ meeting. Either way, it wasn’t going to be anyone she wanted to see right now and God damn to oblivion the vain and pathetic hope that had just entered her head that it might actually be Michael McCann.

Pulling open the door, she was on the point of claiming an untenable workload when the words dried on her lips and her jaw dropped open.

‘Surprise!’ Clay cried, a bottle of champagne in one hand a half-dozen roses in the other. His silvery hair was pulled back in a pony tail and his slender, handsome face was beaming with pleasure. ‘How’re you doing, babe? I missed you,’ he said.

Ellen was too dumfounded to speak, or even to think.

He laughed. ‘So, you going to invite me in?’ he said. ‘Or,’ he added with a wink, ‘we going to give the neighbours a show?’

Ellen’s eyes widened in disbelief. ‘What are you doing here?’ she finally managed. ‘How did you get in?’

His famously sensuous eyes were steeped in mischief. ‘Hey, I’m Clay Ingall,’ he reminded her. ‘Why would they stop me?’

Ellen’s face immediately showed her anger, but he appeared oblivious.

‘You’re looking great,’ he told her and dropped his eyes pointedly to her bare midriff. ‘Better than ever.’

‘Clay, you’re not welcome,’ she told him bluntly.

‘Oh come on,’ he grinned. ‘I got champagne here. You know how you love champagne.’

‘Not your champagne,’ she retorted.

He looked injured. ‘Honey, I came to say I was sorry,’ he said, the vaguest hint of rebuke in his voice.

‘Apology accepted. Goodbye.’

She made to slam the door but he jammed it open with his foot, and pushing past her, sailed right on into the kitchen.

‘Clay. Didn’t you hear me?’ she snapped, leaving the door open as she followed him. ‘I don’t want you here. We’re through, remember? You’re the one who ended it.’

‘Big mistake,’ he told her, opening and closing the cupboard doors as he hunted for glasses. ‘Yep, it sure was a big mistake. But I’m back now, honey, and boy have we got some making up for lost time to do.’

Ellen was speechless. ‘Did you lose your mind?’ she cried finally. ‘There’s no lost time to be made up for here. It’s over.’

‘Uh, uh,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You and me, we can’t be over. We got something going, something real good, you know that.’

Ellen suddenly saw red. ‘Did you forget the way you spoke to me the last time you called?’ she shouted. ‘You threatened me, Clay. You do remember that, don’t you?’

‘Oh hell, it was a misunderstanding,’ he told her, finding the glasses and setting two on the counter beside the roses. As he took hold of the cork he gazed around the apartment, drinking it all in. ‘Shit, it’s good to be here,’ he smiled. ‘I really did miss you, d’you know that? Life just wasn’t the same without you.’

Ellen’s hand went to her head as she struggled to deal with the mind-blowing madness of it. She heard the cork pop and watched in dismay as, filling the glasses, he continued as though they really did have something to celebrate. ‘You look sensational,’ he said, looking at her midriff again as he passed her a glass. ‘But then, you always did.’ He laughed. ‘I got photos to prove it. Remember?’

Fury instantly flashed in her eyes. ‘Photos that ended up on Ted Forgon’s desk,’ she seethed and slapped the glass right out of his hand. ‘Now take your god-damned champagne and get the hell out of here.’

‘Oh, come on, you don’t mean that,’ he said, looking pained as he put down the other glass and turned back towards her.

‘Clay, just go,’ she said, holding up a hand as she started to back off. There was something inherently unpleasant about the way he was looking at her now and a beat of unease was shaking her heart. ‘You told me I was history, remember?’ she faltered. ‘You said you were in love with Karen. What happened to Karen?’

He waved a dismissive hand. ‘You don’t need to worry about her,’ he assured her. ‘We never had the kind of thing going you and me had.’ He laughed. ‘You know, you’re so smart I guess you always knew I’d come back, didn’t you? And hell, I don’t blame you for putting that shot in the papers to try and break up me and Karen. I’d probably have done the same if I were you. But I got to tell you, you look a whole lot better in the flesh than you did in that picture and I should know.’

‘I didn’t put the god-damned shot in the paper,’ Ellen spat. ‘Ted Forgon put it there. He’s using them to blackmail me, so how did he come by them, Clay? Did you give him the polaroids? Did you know he had someone staking out your house? Is that how much you thought of me, that you’d do something like that to me?’

‘Hey,’ he cried, ‘I didn’t know he had some snoop photographer going about the place until he told me. And I got to tell you when I found out, I threatened to sue the bastard.’

‘But instead you gave him the polaroids.’

His large, handsome face with its three-day stubble and dark, liquid eyes was a picture of unconcern. ‘Honey, I don’t know what you’re getting so uptight about,’ he said. ‘You look fan-fucking-tastic in those shots and you know it. Besides, you’re the one who liked showing it off in public, so I didn’t think you’d mind if a couple of the lads took a look …’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ she raged. ‘It was you who wanted me to do all those things and I went along with it because I loved you.’

He grinned.

‘Jesus, what a fool,’ she muttered, dashing a hand through her hair. ‘Just go, will you?’ she said, looking back at him. ‘Take your champagne and get out of my life.’

He put his hands on his hips and cocking his head to one side smiled at her. ‘Now, if I thought you meant that,’ he said, ‘I’d probably take offence, you know what I mean? But I know you better, so I know how you like it kind of rough sometimes, so I understand what you’re telling me here.’

Ellen’s heart jarred with fear as he took a step towards her and laid a hand on her midriff. ‘Clay, I mean it,’ she warned, pressing herself into the wall. ‘I don’t want you to touch me. I just want you to leave and …’

‘You got anything on under this top?’ he interrupted, lifting it up to take a look.

‘For Christ’s sake, didn’t you hear me?’ she yelled, thumping his hand away. ‘I don’t want you to touch me. This isn’t an act, Clay. This is real.’

‘You want to do it in front of the window so everyone can take a look?’ he offered, closing in on her and pressing his groin to hers.

‘Clay, let me go,’ she cried, as he began rubbing himself against her. ‘Just let me go!’ she shouted. But he had pinned her arms to the wall and with the rest of his body thrust so hard against hers she couldn’t move. ‘No!’ she choked, jerking her head away as he tried to kiss her. ‘Clay, please, don’t do this.’

‘Hey, come on, you’re not fooling anyone here,’ he sneered. ‘You always want it.’

‘No, Clay, stop,’ she begged, twisting her head from side to side as he attempted to kiss her again.

‘Hey, this is me, remember?’ He laughed, pressing harder on her wrists as she struggled to force them free of the wall. ‘All I ever had to do was touch you and your clothes were off and you were reaching for my cock. Well here it is, babe. Come get it. It’s all yours.’

Even as she fought, Ellen was painfully aware of how his words had struck a truth she hardly wanted to think about, for it was the way she had been with him and it was the way she had been with Michael too. One kiss and she had stripped off her clothes like she was some rampant, sex-starved nympho. So was that why Michael hadn’t been in touch? Had she put him off by being too easy? Did he think she behaved that way with everyone? ‘Clay, no!’ she screamed, as his hand plunged into the elastic waist of her trousers. ‘Let me go! For God’s sake …’ She was pummelling him with her fists and trying desperately to get his legs out from between hers, but while he held her that way, with her feet barely touching the floor, she was virtually powerless to stop him.’

‘Oh God, no,’ she cried as he dragged her trousers down over her hips and began fumbling with his fly. ‘Clay, please, don’t do this.’

But he wasn’t listening. He was too intent now on getting her trousers off and with terrifying ease he pinned her arms behind her back, tore at the flimsy fabric and pushed his hand inside her panties.

Ellen was screaming and fighting, trying to bite and kick him, until finally she wrested a hand out of his grip and snatching up the lamp beside her she brought it crashing down on his head.

‘What the hell’s going on here?’ Matty shouted from the doorway as Clay slumped to the floor.

‘Oh God,’ Ellen sobbed, clutching her arms about herself as she struggled to breathe.

‘Are you all right?’ Matty said, going to her as she slid down the wall. ‘What happened? My God, is that Clay?’

‘He tried to rape me,’ Ellen groaned.

‘She was asking for it,’ Clay sneered, wiping the blood from his forehead as he struggled to sit up. ‘And what the fuck did you have to go and hit me like that for? We were just having some fun.’

‘You were raping me, you god-damned sonofabitch!’ Ellen shouted. ‘Now get the hell out of here before I call the police.’

‘You want to get yourself some treatment,’ he snarled, ‘’cos you come on to a guy the way you came on to me …’

‘I didn’t ask you to come here!’ Ellen yelled as he got to his feet. ‘You just turned up, you bastard. And I never did one god-damned thing to give you the come on. It’s all in your head, you mother-fucking egomaniac. I’m suing you, do you hear me! I’m charging you with assault …’

‘This is me you’re talking to,’ he reminded her, his eyes glittering with contempt as he wiped saliva from his lips. ‘I don’t need to assault women to get what I want. The real story here is you just like cutting up rough and the minute your cousin turned up you backed off, shouted rape … Well get this into your head, bitch, I don’t want you phoning me up and begging me to come over no more, ’cos I don’t like the way you do things. Did you get that? Did you hear what I said? We’re through …’

‘Get him out of here,’ Ellen implored, turning to Matty. ‘Please, just make him go, or I swear to God I’ll kill him.’

‘Hey, I’m out of here,’ he replied. ‘No way am I staying after this. You’re sick, do you know that?’ he spat, prodding his head with a finger. ‘You’re a fucking screwball. You ought to be locked up. Hey, maybe I might bring charges, do society a favour.’

‘Get out!’ Ellen screamed, and picking up the nearest object she flung it at him. It missed, but he was already across the room.

‘See, she’s crazy,’ he said to Matty. ‘Get her some help,’ and before either of them could respond he slammed out of the door.

‘Jesus Christ Almighty!’ Matty murmured, still staring at the door. ‘What the hell happened? How did he get in here?’

Ellen was shaking her head. ‘Security let him in,’ she answered. ‘I guess they figured because he’s famous, he’s harmless.’ She gave a bitter laugh, then winced as she tried to get up.

‘Are you OK?’ Matty said, attempting to help her. ‘Did he hurt you?’

Ellen shook her head. ‘Not really,’ she answered. ‘He scared the hell out of me, though.’ She sighed and shook her head again. ‘Can you believe that? He just turned up here like we were still an item and started coming on to me. Oh God, it was horrible,’ she gasped, screwing up her eyes. ‘Get me a drink, will you? And not his champagne. I’ll go change into something else.’

A few minutes later she was hunched in a corner of the sofa wrapped in a dressing gown and sipping a Scotch, while Matty cleared up the broken glass.

‘Did you call him?’ Matty asked, after a difficult silence.

‘For God’s sake, no!’ Ellen cried. Then, banging down her glass she said, ‘You don’t seriously believe what he was saying, do you?’

Matty shook her head. ‘Not really,’ she answered. ‘I mean, I know he was trying to rape you because I heard you right along the hall. I just can’t figure out what brought him here, that’s all.’

‘He’s broken up with Karen,’ Ellen answered, ‘and was obviously short of a screw for the night so thought he could get it on with me again. And who can blame him when I’ve got a history of giving it to a guy on the first date and ripping off my clothes on the first kiss.’

Matty wrinkled her nose in confusion. ‘What are you talking about?’ she said. ‘Since when did you give it to a guy on the first date?’

‘Since I met Clay,’ Ellen answered. ‘And since last Friday when I was so keen for Michael to screw me I tore off my own clothes before the rest of you had time to get down the hall.’

Matty blinked. ‘So?’ she said. ‘It was what you both wanted, wasn’t it? I mean, did you force him?’

‘Of course I didn’t.’

‘Then why are you giving yourself such a hard time?’

‘Because he hasn’t damned well called me,’ Ellen shouted, ‘that’s why. He got what he came here for and he obviously hasn’t felt like it again since. Or maybe he’s sleeping with someone else already. Someone who doesn’t give it to him on a plate, who makes him feel like what he’s getting is worth having.’

‘Wow, this is some self-pity trip you’re on here,’ Matty commented.

Ellen glared at her.

Matty shrugged. ‘Go ahead,’ she invited, ‘don’t stop the train for me.’

Ellen slammed her eyes and turned to look out at the twilight. ‘I almost got raped,’ she said a moment or two later.

‘Are we talking about Michael or Clay now?’ Matty asked.

‘It’s not a god-damned joke,’ Ellen snapped. ‘You should try it some time, see how it feels.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Matty said, ‘I guess it was uncalled for. But honestly, Ellen, I don’t know what you’re trying to deal with here, the fact that Clay came on to you like that, or that Michael hasn’t called you.’

‘Or that I’m thinking of quitting my job,’ Ellen added. ‘Or that some asshole ran into my car today. Or that I just screwed up on a major deal. Or that I was on the point of inviting Foster McKenzie to come screw me, before Clay turned up and beat him to it. Or that my dad’s not well and I’m scared out my mind he’ll die before he ever speaks to me again. Take your pick, there’s a lot going on here today.’

Matty took a breath. ‘OK, which of them do you want to deal with first?’ she said.

‘I told you, it’s your call,’ Ellen responded.

Matty nodded and leaning back against an armchair she hugged her knees to her chest. ‘Is it serious with Uncle Frank?’ she asked.

Ellen shook her head. ‘Mom says not. Just the flu, but one day it’s going to be more serious than that and before we know it …’

Matty lowered her eyes to the floor. ‘I know,’ she said softly. Then, after a lengthy pause, ‘Did you mean it about sleeping with Foster McKenzie?’

Ellen shrugged and sighed. ‘I don’t know,’ she answered. ‘Not now, no. But earlier, when I picked up the phone, I was prepared to do whatever it took to get me out of Ted Forgon’s clutches. And I suppose I was seeing it as some perverse kind of payback to Michael as well.’

‘Has Forgon been at you about Michael again?’ Matty asked.

Ellen laughed drily. ‘I saw him today and he didn’t even mention him,’ she answered. ‘But don’t let that mislead you into thinking he’s given up on Michael, or that he doesn’t know Michael’s in town. All that means is he’s playing this a different way now and I don’t even want to think about where it’s going to leave me, because the sadistic old bastard is bound to find a way of making me pay for something that’s not even in my control. That’s what he’s like. It’s the way he operates with everyone, except I, Ellen Shelby, the biggest sucker of all time, was dumb enough to think he had me starred for great things, when all he’s really got me starred for is as many hoops as he can make me jump through before he gets bored and moves on to the next.’

Matty was quiet as she mulled it all over in her mind and wondered, not for the first time lately, if Ellen was starting to outgrow LA.

‘I don’t know,’ Ellen answered, when Matty put the question to her. ‘Sometimes I think so, but other times, well, I just don’t know. You know what I heard someone say the other day, “Hell’s kitchen might be in New York, but the boudoir is right here in LA.”’

Matty smiled. ‘Not bad,’ she said. Then, after taking a sip of her drink, ‘What about the job Michael offered you in London? Would you be interested in that?’

Ellen shook her head, then laughed. ‘I don’t expect it’s on offer any more,’ she said. ‘And besides, I might be going through a tough patch here right now, but it’ll get better and you know as well as I do that the time to quit is when you’re ahead, not when you’re down.’

Matty nodded. ‘I guess you’re right,’ she said. ‘So, what are you going to do about Michael? Will you call him?’

‘No. It’s the première tomorrow night, he knows he’s invited me, so he either calls to say it’s still on, or he doesn’t. Whichever way, it’s up to him.’

It was Hollywood doing what Hollywood did best – an all-star, glittering extravaganza to mark the première of Victor Warren’s much hyped movie, United We Fall. The film’s stars ranked among the industry’s biggest box-office attractions and the support roles had brought together an international cast of easily recognizable as well as highly respected talent. The crowds outside The Shrine, in downtown LA, were going crazy, tossing rice and handkerchiefs, ribbons and flags in the air, as one star after another after another alighted from the endless stream of limousines and strode in all their chic designer splendour along the gilt-edged red carpet, towards the magnificent auditorium. Thousands upon thousands of flash bulbs lit up the night, while reporters from all over the world jostled aggressively for position and yelled out for Sandra, or Mel, or Arnie, or Julie, to look their way. Some stars were willing, others not, but the main cast of United We Fall were the prime targets this evening and each of them was as ready for the cameras as they were hungry for acclaim.

Laughing as some hack from London recognized him, Michael declined an interview, for he never sought or particularly welcomed publicity. The woman he was with, however, was smiling at every lens, waving at the crowds and doing her very best to give as many interviews as she could. As the star of the movie it was expected of her, as the niece of Victor Warren and daughter of one of the world’s leading playwrights it came naturally to her.

Her arm was linked comfortably through Michael’s as they made their way slowly through the crowd, he in his tuxedo, she in a stunning pink sequinned dress that revealed a great deal more than it concealed of the flawless, tanned body beneath.

‘Justine! It’s the BBC from London,’ a voice called out of the crowd.

Immediately Justine turned, still clinging to Michael’s arm and smiled at the reporter.

‘What do you think of the turn out here tonight?’ the reporter asked.

‘Exceptional and exciting,’ Justine replied, her soft, girlish face alight with laughter. ‘I had no idea my uncle knew so many people.’

Everyone around laughed and as Justine looked up into Michael’s face the cameras went crazy.

‘Who designed the dress, Justine?’ the BBC guy asked. ‘It’s gorgeous, by the way.’

‘Armani, who else?’ she laughed. ‘Who designed yours?’

‘His poor cousin,’ he answered. ‘Michael, have you seen the movie?’

‘Sure,’ Michael replied. ‘It’s terrific.’

‘Are you hoping for an Oscar, Justine?’

‘Who me?’ she cried, clasping a hand to her chest. ‘Would I lie?’

And so it went on, moving from newspaper, to TV channel, to radio station to glossy magazine, until they finally disappeared inside the theatre and took their seats with Victor Warren and his wife.

As with all these occasions, each opening credit brought the person concerned to their feet to accept the applause, whether actor, casting director, costume designer, cameras, sound, writers, producers or director. Victor Warren, a large, dour Scot, who was always taken for an American, was the last to rise but barely did so for the first scenes of the movie were already underway.

Having seen it three times in as many days, there was little Michael could do to stop his mind wandering and in relatively no time at all he was feeling as bad as he ought about Ellen. The way they’d made love the other night had confirmed what he’d suspected for some time, that she was a woman he wasn’t going to find easy to resist, and his heart sank at the prospect of her turning on the TV and seeing him at the première with Justine Warren. He should have called her, he knew that, but he’d been so hectic since he’d seen her he’d barely had time to shave, never mind socialize. Except one phone call was all it would have taken and God knew he could have found time for that, had he tried. And he probably would have, were it not for the fact that he was so uneasy about his feelings for her. He wanted her, that much was clear, but he was pretty sure it went much deeper than that, and it just wouldn’t be fair to pretend there could be anything between them when he still wasn’t really clear what he was going to do about Michelle.

The film seemed endless as it moved ponderously from one scene to the next, building all the time to a climax that he knew wasn’t going to disappoint. However, the prospect of sitting through another two hours, before moving on to a party that would no doubt rave through to dawn, was becoming increasingly unappealing. He glanced over at Justine and smiled as she looked back. The performance she was giving on screen was second only to the one she was giving tonight, for as yet only the family knew that her fiancé had chosen today of all days to inform her he was breaking off their engagement. Michael’s heart went out to her, for he knew how devastated she was inside, which was why he hadn’t been able to say no when she’d asked him to escort her tonight. And now, providing he didn’t think of Ellen, he could only admire the courage Justine was showing in putting on a front for the world, and for her uncle, who had insisted he would understand if she wanted to back out.

At last the closing credits began to roll and as Michael looked at Justine again he knew that the tears on her cheeks were for her private pain, rather than that of the character she had portrayed. He wondered how she was going to get through the party now and not for the first time that day he felt a violent anger towards the man who had done this to her. Taking the handkerchief he was offering, she wiped away her tears and brought back her smile. The eyes of the world were on her again and she had too much pride to let any of them know that she was anything other than thrilled by their ecstatic reception of the film. From three seats away Linden Forsyth, her co-star, reached for her hand and drew her to her feet so that together they could accept the applause.

Victor Warren was the last to stand up and as he waved to the audience of his friends and colleagues Justine turned and held her exquisite diamond tiara in place, as she stooped to whisper to Michael. ‘Let’s just get through this, then if you don’t mind, will you take me home?’ she said. Her limpid green eyes were shining with tears, even though her smile was perfectly intact.

‘Of course,’ he answered.

An impish light made a fleeting appearance through her pain. ‘I expect people will talk, both of us not being at the party. Will you mind?’

He smiled and shook his head.

It was past eleven o’clock by the time the limousine finally dropped them at Justine’s Bel Air home, and after making sure she was all right and not about to do anything foolish, Michael got into the hire car he’d left there earlier and drove off towards Beverly Hills. This was against his better judgement and the chances of Ellen letting him in now were probably even slimmer than the chances of her forgiving him, but he was going to give it his best shot anyway and if that didn’t work, well dammit, he’d just keep on trying until it did.

Twenty minutes later he pulled up at the security gates and told the guard which apartment he wanted.

She was a while answering the phone, so long, in fact, that he thought she was probably out. But then the guard started to speak, listened for a moment, then, replacing the receiver he wandered back out of his booth.

‘Sorry man,’ he said, ‘she don’t want to let you in.’ Michael looked at him, looked away, took a ten-dollar bill from his wallet and said, ‘Call her back and tell her I’ll wait right here until she’s ready to see me.’

The guard looked at the money, shrugged as he took it, then went back into his booth and picked up the phone. ‘She says,’ he said, coming back a couple of minutes later, ‘that you’re wasting your time, ’cos she ain’t gonna change her mind.’

Michael pursed his lips and nodded. ‘I don’t suppose,’ he said, ‘you’d consider letting me in anyway.’

The guard shook his head. ‘No can do, man,’ he replied. ‘Another guy did it just yesterday and it was a movie star he let in. Got fired all the same. Don’t want to lose my job.’

‘OK,’ Michael said. ‘So where’s a good place to wait without blocking the entrance?’

The guard pointed him towards a couple of parking spaces in front of the entry villa. ‘You can sit it out over there, if you like, but I got to tell you, man, she didn’t sound to me like she was going to change her mind.’

Michael put the car into reverse. ‘Just call her and tell her I meant what I said, I’ll wait here until she’s ready to see me.’

As the minutes ticked by and the warm, scented night became more and more still he asked himself over and over why he was doing this when he knew already that they were going nowhere and when the last thing he wanted was to hurt her again. Maybe it was just that he needed to explain, or perhaps he wanted to see her and hold her once more, or maybe it was something much less tangible and infinitely more perilous that was keeping him here. In truth, he had no real answers, all he knew was that he meant what he said, he was prepared to wait however long it took for her to let him come in, or even until she came out.

He’d been there more than an hour when the guard sauntered over and rapped on his window. ‘She just called down wanting to know if you was still here,’ the guard told him as he lowered the window.

‘And you told her I was?’

‘Sure I did.’

Michael waited.

‘She says I can let you go up,’ the guard finally informed him.

Michael looked into the guard’s eyes. The guard looked back, then his handsome black face broke into a grin and holding out his hand he said, ‘Hey man, give me five.’

Laughing, Michael slapped a hand against the other man’s and reaching for the keys he started up the engine.

Minutes later he was standing in the smart, Andalusian-style hallway waiting for her to answer the door.

It didn’t take long and just one look at her when she opened the door told him all he needed to know; that despite the fierceness of the pride in her eyes he had hurt her deeply. And without thinking any more he drew her into his arms. ‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured. ‘I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you. Somehow, I swear, I’ll make it up to you.’

He pulled her more tightly to him and kissed her hair ‘Did you see the première?’ he asked.

She nodded.

‘I can explain,’ he said.

‘It’s OK, you don’t need to,’ she answered.

‘I do and I will.’

‘Oh God,’ she laughed, rolling her eyes and trying to look away. ‘I feel such a fool. I mean I know we … only once, but it meant so much to me and … I’m sorry, I know I probably shouldn’t say that, but there’s just been so much happening lately and … Oh God, I’m sorry, I’ll have myself together in a minute.’

‘It’s OK,’ he smiled, kissing her forehead, and keeping her close he took her back into the apartment.

She was wearing a thick towelling robe and he could see the thin cotton pyjamas beneath. Her hair was clipped on top of her head, with tiny wisps of curls escaping around her face and neck, and her soft, creamy skin was totally devoid of make-up. He felt a tightening in his chest as he wondered if he’d ever seen a woman look so lovely, for the colour of her cheeks, the moistness of her mouth and guileless clarity of her eyes were all as natural as the gentle aroma of her femininity.

‘Can I get you something?’ she offered. ‘Would you like …?’

‘Nothing,’ he interrupted and taking her hand he pulled her down on the sofa beside him. The only light came from the full moon outside and a small lamp at the other end of the room.

‘OK?’ he asked, as she brought her knees up on to his lap and rested her head on his shoulder.

‘Mmm,’ she answered and looked down as he took her hand and entwined her fingers in his. ‘Tell me about the movie. Is it good?’

‘Yes, it’s good,’ he answered. ‘But I’d rather talk about what’s been happening to you.’

‘You mean apart from you not calling?’ she said, only half teasing.

Putting his fingers under her chin, he lifted her face and looked right into her eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘It was a stupid thing to have done.’

‘It’s OK,’ she said shakily. ‘You’re here now.’

He carried on looking at her, moving his eyes between hers, lowering them to her mouth, then bringing them back again to her eyes and gazing at her so seriously and intently she was almost afraid of what he was thinking. Then, very gently he touched his lips to hers and kissed her so tenderly and meaningfully that she felt her heart flood with so much emotion she could hardly bear it.

Later, she barely remembered how she began, all she knew was that she told him everything, from the way her father wouldn’t speak to her to how afraid she was of leaving ATI; about the photographs Ted Forgon was blackmailing her with, the way Clay had tried to rape her the day before and the dread she had that he, Michael, hadn’t called because she had slept with him so easily.

Only the last part made him smile, until, realizing how serious she was, he touched a finger to her lips and said, ‘It wasn’t easy, it was inevitable. You know that.’

Hearing that, Ellen felt her heart rise to her throat and as his hand tightened on hers her desire began to burn. His hand slid into her hair and she raised her mouth to his again, moaning softly as he kissed her.

‘What are you doing for the next five days?’ he asked, his mouth still very close to hers.

Ellen’s eyes reflected her surprise and seeing the way he was looking at her she said, ‘Why?’

‘Because I want to spend some time with you and I can clear my schedule if you can clear yours.’

She looked away, looked back, then shaking her head she started to smile. ‘OK,’ she said.

He brought her mouth to his and a long time later he said softly, ‘We’ll get this sorted with Forgon, OK?’

She stared at him, not knowing what to say.

He kissed her nose. ‘Does Ingall still have any more of those polaroids?’ he asked.

She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I thought I’d destroyed them all, but … I don’t know.’

‘It’s OK, there are ways of finding out.’

Ellen laughed. ‘How do you do that?’ she said.

‘What?’

‘Make everything seem so simple.’

He shrugged. ‘I guess because everything generally is,’ he answered. ‘It’s only complicated when you want it to be.’

Ellen frowned as she thought about that. ‘I wouldn’t say I want it to be complicated between us,’ she said, ‘but I feel that it is.’

He smiled and said nothing as his mouth closed over hers again. And this time, as he kissed her, he pulled the top of her robe aside and unbuttoned her pyjamas until one breast was completely exposed to his touch. As he stroked her, her breath started to deepen, but they sat that way for a long time, watching the dark masculinity of his hand move over her skin, while occasionally looking at each other and kissing some more.

Finally he got to his feet and pulling her up into his arms he said, ‘If you’ve got a problem with us making love …’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t have a problem.’

His smile was so ironic she laughed and walking with him into the bedroom she said, ‘I’m glad you came.’

‘Me too,’ he murmured and pulling her in front of him he began to undress her.

The next five days were the happiest and most romantic Ellen had ever known. She’d had no idea it was possible to laugh so much, nor to make love in so many different ways, nor to feel so alive and beautiful and mischievous and cared for, no matter what she did. She could see how enthralled he was by her and loved the way he teased her for how brazen and reckless and insatiable she was. In turn, she let him know how special he was too, though she was careful not to mention anything about him moving to LA, for the last thing she wanted was for him to think that she was trying to trap him, either for Forgon, or for herself.

They were rarely out of each other’s sight as they roamed the canyons, relaxed in her apartment and drove along the coast to Big Sur. They talked endlessly about everything from existentialism to expressionism, from crime to passion and from the marvellous to the mundane. He watched her and listened as she spoke on the phone to her mother and was persuaded to say ‘hi’ himself. Then it was her turn to speak to his family, all three of the children, his sister and Clodagh. He confided how bad he felt about a girl from his office, Sandy, whom he had fired because of her crush on him, and confessed how he had slept with her the night he had so badly wanted to sleep with Ellen. Ellen’s heart went out to the girl wherever she was now, for feeling the way she did about Michael herself it was all too easy for her to imagine how terrible Sandy must be feeling.

He told her about the deal he was trying to pull together with the Australian, Mark Bergin, and what it could do for the face of international co-production. She could sense how excited he was by it and understood why, for the project, if it came off, was bigger and more prestigious than any she’d ever heard of. Apparently Bergin had already upped his stake to six million sterling, while Michael’s associate in New York was prepared to put up a further two million and Michael was committing McCann Walsh to an investment of three million, with a possible further three once he had spoken to the banks. They had yet to come up with a name in LA that all three trusted sufficiently to bring in on the deal, for the way Hollywood generally played was buy out, not buy in. Ellen desperately wanted to suggest herself as a partner, for she was certain she could raise the money – provided she got things sorted out with Forgon first – but the suggestion had to come from Michael and despite how close they seemed and how freely they discussed everything else, there was an unnerving silence regarding their relationship and where it might be headed.

She waited until their last night to bring up the subject, when they were having dinner at La Bohème, the Parisian music-hall-style restaurant on Santa Monica. It saddened her, and slightly panicked her too, that he went through the entire meal without once wondering when they might see each other again, or even mentioning how they felt about each other. In her heart she just knew that the past five days had meant as much to him as they had to her, but whether she could get him to admit it was another matter altogether, and even if she could, it still wasn’t going to answer the question of where they went from here.

She watched as the waiter put two coffees down between them and asked if they would like a nightcap. Michael looked at her and she shook her head.

‘Just the check,’ he said and as the waiter walked away he picked up his coffee and looked into her eyes. ‘Are you OK?’ he asked.

Ellen nodded and picked up her coffee too.

‘You seem quiet tonight,’ he remarked.

She kept her eyes lowered, then, putting her cup down she looked up into his dark, candlelit face. ‘I guess I’m just sad that you’re going tomorrow,’ she said.

Immediately he looked away and her heart ached with the need to hear him say that he would miss her too.

‘Did you have a good time?’ she asked.

‘Sure,’ he answered.

She tried to smile, but it didn’t quite come off. She was right on the verge of saying what she wanted, but for some reason she couldn’t make it come. ‘Are you going to offer Sandy back her job?’ she said.

He frowned.

‘The girl you fired,’ she reminded him. ‘Will you take her back?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘I’ll give her a good reference, so she shouldn’t have much trouble finding another job.’

‘What about the escort thing? Is that going to remain a problem for her? I mean, will anyone else want to take her on once they know what her background is?’

‘People are pretty broad-minded these days,’ he replied.

‘But not you?’

‘I told you, it was an excuse to get rid of her,’ he said bluntly, ‘not a reason. It’s why I feel so bad about it.’ He sighed. ‘But it’s done now and I don’t see there’s anything to be gained in going back.’

Ellen fell silent again and wondered how many other things she was going to ask about before she got round to what she really wanted to say.

‘Have you considered what you’re going to do about ATI?’ he asked.

Her mouth turned dry as her heart contracted hard. Was he going to ask her to go to London after all? Or was he just making idle chat?

‘If you decide you want to leave,’ he went on, ‘then give Forgon a reminder from me that I know plenty of things about him he won’t want made public, so if he doesn’t get off your case I’ll be on his.’

Ellen smiled and looked down at her coffee. ‘My hero,’ she murmured. It wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful, or that she wanted to go to London even, she just wanted to know that this wasn’t the end.

‘I was wondering,’ she said, looking up at him, ‘if we’re going to see each other again after tomorrow.’

His eyes remained on hers until reaching for her hand, he held it between his and watched the slow entwining of their fingers.

Her heart was thudding painfully hard, for his silence was giving her the reply she dreaded and she just didn’t know if she could bear to hear what he was going to say.

‘Are you still in love with Michelle?’ she asked, knowing instinctively that this was where her adversary lay.

She felt his sudden tension, though he didn’t pull his hand away, instead he looked down to where it was joined with hers. ‘It’s not as simple as that,’ he answered. Then, raising his eyes, ‘If things were different … If I didn’t have …’ He stopped as the check arrived and reaching into his jacket for his wallet he dropped four twenty-dollar bills on the table. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here,’ he said, starting to get up.

‘No,’ she answered, staying where she was.

He looked at her curiously.

‘I can’t do this, Michael,’ she said, struggling to keep the emotion from her voice.

He sat down again.

‘I can’t go home with you tonight,’ she continued, ‘and know that you’re going to leave tomorrow and I might never see you again. If it’s going to be that way then we have to say goodbye here. I can put your things in a taxi and send them to the Four Seasons …’

‘Listen,’ he said, reaching for her hand again, ‘if you’re thinking that these past five days haven’t meant as much to me as they have to you, then you’re wrong. I had a wonderful time, we both did, and if there were any way we could continue with this then believe me there would be no one happier than me. But you’re here in LA and I’m in London, and no matter how much we might want to kid ourselves otherwise, that isn’t going to change. So ask yourself, do you really want a relationship that only happens on the phone or during snatched vacations in one city or the other? Sure we could meet up for the weekend in New York from time to time, but whichever way you look at it, Ellen, in the long run it just can’t work.’

‘You told me once there would always be a job for me in London,’ she reminded him, her eyes flashing with anger at her lost pride.

‘But you don’t want it.’

‘You didn’t ask.’

‘OK. Do you want the job?’

She looked away.

‘You see,’ he said gently, ‘you’re as much a part of the States as I am of England …’

‘This isn’t about geography,’ she snapped, ‘it’s about two people who care for each other and want to spend more time together. At least this person does. What about you?’

He nodded.

‘So what’s wrong with trying it for vacations and weekends in New York?’ she demanded. ‘Do we have to throw everything away because it seems impossible now? No one ever knows what’s going to happen in the future, how things might change, so unless you tell me that you’re still in love with Michelle, because that’s the real crux of things here, then I’m prepared to give it a go any way that might have a chance.’

‘If I’m in love with anyone right now,’ he said, ‘it’s with you.’

Ellen was already starting to speak when her breath was suddenly lost in an onrush of disbelief and elation. ‘Do you mean that?’ she whispered, trying to assimilate the shock.

‘You know I do,’ he answered. ‘You’ve been there the whole time it’s been happening so you’ve got to know.’

She stared at him, then, swallowing hard she said, ‘Does that mean you know I’m in love with you too? I mean, you’ve been there the whole time for me.’

He grinned. ‘I’d say you’re pretty crazy about me,’ he replied. ‘We’ll know you’re in love when you decide to come to London.’

Ellen’s heart skipped a beat. ‘I could throw that one back at you,’ she reminded him, ‘and say we’ll know when you come to LA.’

His eyebrows went up, but he made no comment as he got to his feet and stood to one side for her to lead them out of the restaurant.

‘Could we do something now?’ Ellen asked as he drove her newly repaired Pontiac back towards Beverly Hills.

He glanced at her in surprise. ‘What do you have in mind?’ he asked cautiously.

‘Could we fly to Vegas and get married?’

‘Jesus Christ!’ he swore, swerving to avoid an oncoming car. ‘Are you serious?’ he asked a couple of minutes later.

‘No,’ she said happily, ‘it was just a joke.’

He continued to drive, eyes riveted to the road ahead. ‘You were serious,’ he stated, when finally they turned into her apartment complex.

‘No I wasn’t,’ she replied. ‘You sounded so suspicious when I asked if we could do something that I didn’t want to disappoint you.’ She turned to look at him. ‘What I wanted to do was make an arrangement for when we’re next going to meet. Now, I know you might see that as still trying to tie you down, but you have to admit it’s not as drastic as Vegas.’

Laughing as he circled the car into her parking spot he said, ‘I’m going to miss you, Ellen Shelby.’

‘You don’t know how happy that makes me,’ she responded.

Turning off the engine, they got out of the car and walked hand in hand to the apartment. ‘What about New York, the weekend after next?’ he said when they reached the door.

Ellen’s eyes rounded with amazement. ‘That soon?’ she said.

‘I have a meeting there on the twenty-fifth,’ he answered, ‘to do with the global tie-up.’

‘Is that so?’ she murmured, sliding her arms around his neck as he leaned back against the wall.

‘Mmmmm,’ he responded as she kissed him.

‘Then I guess I’ll just have to make sure I can be there too,’ she said, and feeling pretty certain that somehow this international link-up was going to provide some kind of answer for them she led him into the apartment and poured him a nightcap.

‘Tell me something,’ she said, a while later as they were sitting quietly in the moonlight on the veranda, ‘would you really have gone back to England tomorrow with no plans for us to see each other again?’

She was sitting on the floor in front of him and turned to rest her chin on his knee as she waited for him to answer. His eyes narrowed teasingly as looking down at her he contemplated the question. ‘I guess,’ he said finally, ‘we’ll never know now, will we?’