Kat never called Nina to come over and see the dresses she was considering for the Oscars.
For some reason, that didn’t surprise Nina in the least. In fact, she was somewhat relieved. She would have been too envious of the woman who would be on the arm of her husband during the town’s biggest event of the year.
Damn! Damn! What was I thinking? How could I have been so stupid to even consider letting him go with her! Well, it’s too late now, thought Nina. If she asked him to drop out now, he would know she didn’t trust him with Kat, and that would become another bone of contention between them.
Besides, would forbidding him to go really stop an affair, if it were in fact happening? Of course not, she reasoned—although it might assuage her hurt ego.
Which was why she would have to let him go anyway.
Theo, the stylist sent over by Fiona, had five tuxedos for Nathan to choose from: a Perry Ellis, a Sean John, two Armanis, and a Versace. As he tried them on, Nina pointed out that she liked one of the Armanis the best. He nodded noncommittally, but told Theo he wanted to hang on to all of them for at least another day.
“I don’t get it,” said Nina. “What was wrong with the Armani?”
“Oh, uh, nothing.” Nathan hesitated, then added, “I just—well, I wanted to give Kat an opportunity to look these over before I make a final decision. You know, since she’s done this kind of thing before and knows the drill.” He watched her closely. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Of course I mind, she wanted to scream. I’m your wife!
But she didn’t. Instead she walked out of the room.
He came home from the studio after three that next morning. Nina could only assume that he had been doing more with Kat than modeling tuxedos.
By Oscar weekend Nina was a nervous wreck. Since the nominations had been announced, the whole town had been whipped up into a frenzy. It wasn’t enough that, on practically every other week of the year, there was some movie premiere, gala, über-VIP party, or awards ceremony to celebrate; the Oscars were the town’s biggest soiree of the year, the equivalent of homecoming court, debutante cotillion, bar mitzvah, couturier runway show, and the senior prom all rolled into one.
Because both Kat and Hugo were up for awards, as were several of Hugo’s crewmembers, filming was put on hiatus from the Friday before the Sunday event until the following Tuesday. Nina had assumed that the break would give Nathan and her some time together, just the two of them. Wrong. Nathan explained his absence from home—and proximity to Kat—as part and parcel of the publicity needed for the film.
For example, on Friday morning Nathan informed Nina that Hugo expected him to attend some “industry function” that night, since buzz on the movie was crucial, and his job was to get out there and create the buzz.
“Then I should go, too, shouldn’t I?” Nina had asked. “I wished you would have said something beforehand. I’d like to buy a new dress—”
“Oh, uh, sure. But you really don’t have to go.” His response was so halfhearted that it hurt her feelings. The truest cutting remark, though, was what he said next: “I mean, I doubt you’ll be able to find a babysitter this late.”
Of course he was right. In this town, particularly on Oscar weekend, sitters were as elusive as that coveted statuette.
“You mean ‘we.’ You doubt that we will find a babysitter. Jake is your child, too.”
“Yes, I know that.” There was an edge to his voice that rivaled her own. “But this job is mine—not yours—which is why I need to be there. But you don’t necessarily have to, particularly if Jake needs you here.”
She pushed him away when he attempted a good-bye peck on the cheek.
That night, he came home just before dawn.
Later, Nina found out from Casey that the industry function had been Ed Limato’s renowned annual pre-Oscar bash. Certainly she and Jarred had seen Nathan there.
And, yes, he and Kat had been joined at the hip the whole night.
Nathan finally stirred sometime around ten on Saturday morning, but immediately slipped out again without her: this time, supposedly to the Diller-von Furstenberg brunch.
At least, that was what he claimed when he finally stumbled home that night, drunk as a skunk.
“You mean to tell me you’ve been there all this time?” She stared at him suspiciously.
“Well, yeah…Hey look, it’s only two o’clock now!” To make his point, he pointed over to the clock on the wall.
“In the morning, Nathan. You left here fourteen hours ago!” He was still staring at the clock when she slammed the bedroom door behind her.
He slept on the couch.
When she woke up at eight that morning, he had already dressed and fed Jake. The coffee was made, and he was flipping pancakes. Though his smile was shaky, he was doing his best to pretend that things were normal, so she decided to meet him halfway—
Until he declared that he was supposed to be at Kat’s place in Bel-Air within the hour, so that he could start the process of getting ready for the big event.
“But it doesn’t even start until five or five-thirty this evening, right? I thought we’d, you know, take time getting you ready, and then you’d be picked up here, at two or whatever!”
“What, are you crazy? We—she’s got to walk the red carpet at three-thirty! Traffic to the Kodak is going to be horrendous! They’ve told everyone to arrive as early as possible. Believe me, it’s easier for me to get ready over there. She’s got a hot tub and a sauna, which should relax me, and I’ve already told Theo to meet me there. Besides, Kat’s got a whole team—her hair stylist and facialist, a couple of makeup people—to help me, too. You know, trim me up, work on this zit that’s popped up…”
Hair, facial…I’ll bet she’ll talk him into having a manicure, too, thought Nina. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a manicure; it seemed like a million years ago.
“Oh. I see.”
But she didn’t. All she knew was that she was being excluded from this very important day in his life.
Because of Kat.
She only realized how excluded she was when she saw them together, arm-in-arm on the red carpet. Nathan, as elegant as she had ever seen him, was wearing what must have been Kat’s choice of tux: the Versace. Kat, glamazon par excellence, wore a iridescent turquoise silk Dior sleeveless fluted gown that was cut out on the abdomen and cut away fully in the back, showing off her buffed arms, unnaturally concave tummy, and broad, sensual back.
They looked perfect together.
Clicking around with the television remote from ABC to E! to TV Guide, Nina watched as Nathan and the omnipresent Katerina—her long, tapered fingers never far from his arm or hand or the small of his back—moved from Jann to Joan to Vanessa, where they were complimented, purred over, and called the inevitable:
Kat and Nat.
It was all Nina could do not to upchuck the leftover meat loaf she’d eaten for her coffee-table dinner with Jake.
“But that’s not my daddy’s name!” yelled Jake indignantly at the TV set. “He’s Nathan, you dumb-dumb!”
Nina knew just how he felt. It took all her self-control to resist the urge to toss the remote at the TV screen. No need to set a bad example for Jake.
She’d just toss Nathan’s latest script revisions in the trash instead.
Yeah, now, that would make her happy.
By the time the awards ceremony actually started, Jake was already bored with all of Hollywood’s prettiest people (who wasn’t? thought Nina), and he flat out refused to sit still through another three hours of stilted in-jokes, pat speeches, and endless commercials. Nina allowed him to change the channel to Nickelodeon while she went off to her bedroom, leaving the door open, but just barely, so that she could keep an eye on Jake, but he wouldn’t hear her moans and sobs over the high-pitched squeals of the Rugrats.
Later, after she put him to bed, she watched the last half hour of the awards show with the sound off.
Kat lost. But that was okay. Her consolation prize was a heartfelt kiss from her ever-attentive date, Nathan. And because she was in the row behind the winner (the well-deserving Renée, as fate would have it), the television camera caught both Renée’s jubilation, and Nathan’s tender move.
It was the last image on Nina’s television’s screen before the remote control slammed into it, breaking the picture tube.
Still, the image was burned into Nina’s memory.
When Sam reached the Vanity Fair post-Oscar party at Morton’s, he found that Kat and Nat were already there, table hopping. Having first gone to the Governor’s Ball, Hollywood’s finest had had plenty of time to see Nathan and Katerina together, and to acknowledge them as Hollywood’s hottest new couple.
Despite the fact that Nathan Harte was married to someone else.
When she saw Sam walk over their way, Kat’s radiant smile shifted into a smug grimace.
Nathan’s shit-eating grin melted under the guilt he suddenly felt.
Sam wasn’t smiling at all, and they both knew why.
“No lectures, please, Sam. The night has already been exhausting enough.” Kat tossed back her curly golden mane and looked over at Nicole’s table, a clear indication that she felt she had better things to do—like schmoozing with Marty, or Steven and Kate, or anyone, for that matter—than to listen to him preach at her.
“Don’t worry, Kat. I fully realize that there is nothing I can say to stop this train wreck you’ve got Nathan on.”
It was only then that Sam smiled, which made Nathan turn white and Kat glower. She leaned in close to Sam and whispered, “For once you’re right, so just keep your yap shut, why don’t you! He can make up his own mind. He’s a big boy.” She grinned wickedly. “Believe me, I know firsthand just how big.”
With the din of a million conversations around them and lounge jazz tooting in the background, Nathan couldn’t hear a word she’d said to Sam, but by the look of disgust on Sam’s face, he could certainly guess the gist of her remark.
For good measure she pulled Nathan’s mouth down onto hers, then walked off. From the way Nathan’s shoulders sagged, Sam could only assume that she’d sucked the life force out of the poor guy.
It was like watching a Dementor go after an innocent.
But Nathan isn’t really innocent, is he, Sam reasoned, as the two men stood there for a full five minutes, not saying a word, not even looking at each other.
Finally Nathan glanced over and asked, “You think I’m a fool, don’t you?”
Sam closed his eyes, thought a moment, then opened them again. He looked directly at Nathan with the hopes of making his point. “Yes, but so what if I do? You’re not going to listen to me, no matter what I say to you. That’s okay. You’ve got every right to ignore me. The only thing that matters is what you think…and Nina. But you already know that, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do.” Nathan put his hand on Sam’s shoulder and swore fervently, “Trust me, Sam. I won’t hurt her. I swear I won’t.”
“I have no doubt you don’t want to. But guy, I have to tell you, if you stay on this path, you will.” He took a step away, causing Nathan’s hand to fall at his side. “And once you do, be prepared: Things will never be the same again.”
The look on Nathan’s face said it all: He really believed he had nothing to lose.
Too bad, kid. I guess you’ll find out the hard way.
Nathan left Sam to find the woman who now held his heart in the palm of her hand.
Sam wished he could do the same. Instead, he’d have to settle for the next best thing.
He left the party. As he pulled onto the Pacific Coast Highway, he speed-dialed O.
O: Speak to me, lover boy.
SAM: Hi, O…Uh, wow. It took you a while to answer the phone. Busy, I guess, huh?
O: (Pauses, as if thinking of how she wants to say what’s on her mind) I’m never too busy to talk to you. I live for your calls, Sam. You know that.
SAM: Stop it, you tease. You’re making me blush.
O: If only that were true. And, for the record, I’m being completely and totally honest. In fact, I’d taken the night off. I only picked up because it was you. So there.
SAM: Gee…I feel—honored…But now I also feel—well, like an ass.
O: Oh? Why is that?
SAM: (Sighs deeply) Because I called to talk to you about…about, you know, that woman I mentioned.
O: (Pauses, then says sarcastically) Oh yeah, the one you have that little crush on, right?
SAM: Well, when you put it that way…No, quite frankly it’s not just ‘some little crush’…I dunno. Maybe you’re not the right person for me to be telling this to, anyway.
O: You’re right Sam, I’m not. If you were smart, you’d be telling her instead.
SAM: You know I can’t do that. I already told you—
O: Yeah, yeah, I know. She’s married. So big deal. When did that ever matter in this town?
SAM: Gee, that’s a bit sarcastic, isn’t it? Look…uh, O, maybe tonight’s not the right night for this conversation.
O: I beg to differ, Sam. Tonight is the perfect time for it. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a better mood to hear a man rhapsodize about true love. Or whatever.
SAM: What do you mean by that?
O: What I mean, quite simply, is that I’m going to take you in hand now—figuratively if not literally—and allow you to play out this little fantasy of yours once and for all. You want to bare your soul to her, right? So, go ahead. Pretend I’m her. Tell me all those naughty little things you’d do to her if you got her alone—just the two of you—for a whole night.
SAM: (With a thoughtful murmur) What would that accomplish?
O: A lot. It’s going to be a relief to us both, big boy, believe you me…Unless…
SAM: Unless what?
O: Unless you don’t really want her…you know, that way. Maybe you’ve got her on too high of a pedestal, or some bullshit like that.
SAM: Don’t be silly. Of course I want her. In every way.
O: (Purring) You don’t say? So, tell me—tell her, Sam, what would you do? And how? How would you make love to her, if you ever got up the nerve?
SAM: The nerve. You know, you’re turning this into some sort of joke! To you, it’s just role playing.
O: So, let’s play.
SAM: Sure…Sure, okay, I’ll play…I guess the first thing I’d do is take her over to my place—
O: Describe it…Go on…
SAM: Okay, already!…Well, I live at the beach. My place has a big window in the living room, overlooking the sand and surf. That’s where we’re standing.
O: (Gently) Nice…I can hear the waves pounding the beach. Almost as loud as my heart.
SAM: (Softly) Mine, too. Because I’ve taken you in my arms. Or rather, you’ve melted into them.
O: Hmmm. You’re more than a head taller than me. I’ve got my head right on your chest. In fact, my lips can graze your nipples…do you feel my mouth there?
SAM: Yeah. That’s…that’s nice…I unbutton your shirt.
O: Good…
SAM: And I slide my hands up, gently onto your abdomen…then, slowly, up to your breasts.
O: My nipples are so…so hard. Because there’s a chill in the air…and because your fingers are playing with them…
SAM: I’ve lifted up your camisole. I have my lips on them now…
O: They grow as you put them in your mouth.
SAM: Umm, yeah…I’ve noticed. Not that they weren’t healthy to begin with.
O: And pert. Don’t forget pert.
SAM: How could I? I can’t take my eyes off of them. At the same time, my hands are busy elsewhere: I’m now unzipping your pants.
O: I’m doing the same…to you…Wow! I’m impressed.
SAM: You haven’t been the first woman to say that to me.
O: (Laughs heartily) Your modesty is so becoming…Do you like what I’m doing now?
SAM: Wait…. I’m…I’m sorry. I wanted some realism. I’ve actually moved into my living room now. (Sound of a dog barking.)
O: (Seriously) Down, boy! Oh, not you, Sam.
SAM: Hey! How did you know he’s a…never mind.
O: Oh! Uh…just a lucky guess…You were saying?
SAM: I was saying that my lips are all over you…on your breasts, on your neck…umm…I love your scent…musky…
O: What? What did you say?
SAM: The way you smell. It’s…glorious…Now, I take that locket around your neck in my teeth, and I bite it off—
O: My—my locket?
SAM: Yes. It’s a little heart. Tiny and perfect. Just like you…And I whisper in your ear, “Tell me. Tell me what you want me to do, and I will do it. Anything. Anything you want.” And you laugh that husky laugh of yours and whisper back to me, and I nod because it’s so perfect for right here, right now. I pick you up and you wrap your legs around my waist so that we can do what you want: make love…standing up…to the sound of the waves…. (He pauses, waiting for her to answer him) O…O? Are you there?
O: (Heartbroken) Umm…yeah, Sam, I’m here…Look…I…I’ve got to go now.
SAM: You’re…you’re hanging up? Well, now, that’s gotta be a first in your business.
O: You’re…you’re probably right…Sam, did you mean…did you mean all of that?
SAM: Hell yeah I did! Every word. If—if only we could.
O: We?
SAM: Uh, sorry, O. You know what I meant. I meant—I meant if I could…with Nina.
O: Did you say—Nina?
SAM: Yeah. That’s her name. I’ve never mentioned it to you, have I? (Laughs) In fact, I’ve never told anyone about her but you…until last week. Believe it or not, I actually told her, finally. But she doesn’t believe me.
O: (Stunned) Oh…yes she does. She knows…(Click!)
SAM: O, do you really think so? O? Are you there? (Pause) (Click!)
So, Sam loved her.
He loved her. Not O.
So much for Hugo’s male intuition.
It was sweet. Sam was sweet. And kind. And gentle.
Except when he thought about being with her. At which point, he became a passionate lover who wanted to satisfy her every desire.
No one had ever wanted to do that for her before.
That wasn’t to say that Nathan wasn’t a satisfying lover. He was—as long as he was the one who had been satisfied first. Only then would he consider Nina’s needs, too.
But since he’d met Kat, it had been a while since he’d considered Nina. At all.
She stayed up all night, thinking about Sam: his face, his laugh, his smell, and most of all, his large but gentle hands.
She imagined his hands on her, exploring her body. She let her own hands wander over it, pretending they were Sam’s…
Until Nathan came in, sometime around dawn. Then she pretended to be asleep.
Even as Nathan snuggled up behind her in bed and gently clasped her locket with his hand—an indication that he would like to be forgiven, and, of course, make love—she acted as if she were dead to the world.
Because for the first time since she had known him, what Nathan wanted didn’t matter to her.
What she wanted did matter, though. This she realized as she drifted off to sleep.
She wanted someone to love her unconditionally, to desire her.
Just like Sam.
If only…if only Nathan were Sam.