LACEY WAS THE ONLY person Mel told about Justin. Given the excitement that had arisen over Mel’s summer fling with Justin Hart, she didn’t want anyone to know of the possibility that their relationship might redevelop. If it worked out, Mel wanted it to be private, at least for a while. If it didn’t work out, Mel wanted it to fail in private.
But Lacey could keep a secret, and Mel had to show somebody what was written on her napkin.
“I can’t believe it!” Lacey shrieked, nearly falling into the fountain when Mel held the napkin up for her.
“What do you think it means?” Mel asked cautiously.
“It means call him, you idiot! Why else would he give you his phone number?”
“But why hasn’t he called me all this time? He has my number. What if I hadn’t shown up today? Then what? I don’t get it.”
“Mel, you’re thinking too hard. Don’t ask yourself so many questions. He gave you his phone number. So call him.”
But things didn’t seem that simple to Mel.
She spent the train ride back to Bronxville coming up with more and more questions: Why does Justin want me to call him? Why now? Why would he give his phone number to plain old me when gorgeous Tania was standing practically at his elbow? Does he really want me to call, or is he just being nice?
Mel decided that Lacey was right. She was overthinking and overworrying the entire matter. By the time she stepped off the train, she had made up her mind. She would call Justin that night. She wasn’t sure when he’d be home, but nine o’clock was probably a safe bet. How she was going to wait until nine was another question in itself, since Mel was not a patient person.
However, there was nothing to do but wait. Mel showed off her Bloomingdale’s purchases to Dee and her mother.
She did some homework.
She played chess with Timmy.
She wrote an extremely sad poem.
Somehow, she managed to keep the napkin a secret.
At nine o’clock, she closed herself into the den, pulled out the napkin, and dialed Justin Hart’s phone number.
A lightly accented woman’s voice (Leila’s?) answered the phone. “Hello, Hart residence.”
Mel breathed a sigh of relief. It really was Justin’s number! “Hello, is Justin there, please?”
“No, I’m sorry, he’s not. But he’s expected home soon. May I give him a message?”
Mel hesitated. (She almost hung up the phone.) Then she said in her most adult voice, “Please tell him that Melanie Braderman called.” Melanie gave the woman her phone number.
“Certainly. I’ll give him the message.”
“Thanks,” replied Mel. “’Bye.”
“Good-bye.”
As soon as she hung up the phone, Mel began to panic. What if somebody else (Dee, in particular) got on the phone and wouldn’t get off? How long would Justin keep trying to reach Mel? (Why, oh, why didn’t her parents have Call Waiting?) What if Justin called back and somebody else answered the phone? What if they recognized his voice? Or worse, what if they didn’t recognize it and said, “Hold on a minute, P.J. I’ll get her.”? What if—
Ring, ring.
Mel jumped out of her skin. Then she snatched up the receiver, telling herself it was probably P.J. She tried to prepare for a long discussion of football.
“Hello?” she said.
“Hello…is this Mel?”
Mel’s heart began to pound. Her knees turned to water. “Yes…” She couldn’t even bring herself to speak Justin’s name.
“Mel, this is Justin.”
“I—I know.”
“How are you?”
“Fine…How are you?”
“Fine…and nervous.”
Mel giggled. “I’m nervous, too.”
A long, awful pause followed.
“Well,” said Justin, “you’re probably wondering why I never got in touch with you.”
“That, and a few other tiny little things.”
“Mel, I’m really sorry,” said Justin. “I don’t know what else to say.”
Mel’s heart slowed and her knees regained some control over themselves. “You could say why you never told me about Zack, ‘It’s No Joke,’ Holding On, People magazine, TV Gu—”
“Okay,” Justin cut in. He paused. “Okay.” He didn’t sound angry, just resigned and embarrassed. “Mel,” he said after a moment, “I don’t know if you’ll believe this, but I really do love you.”
“You have some funny way of showing it,” she said.
“Just let me finish, Mel. This isn’t easy.”
“For me either.”
“I know, I know. Let me say what I have to say, though.”
Mel kept her mouth shut.
“This summer,” he began, “one thing I liked about you was that you liked me just because I was me.”
“Liked?” Mel couldn’t help interrupting. “Why are you using the past tense?”
“Mel. Because I’m talking about last summer, okay?”
“Okay. Sorry. Go ahead.”
“All right. See, I wasn’t famous when we first met, but even so, you honestly liked me. That was really important, because…this sounds horrible, but I know, for a fact, that a lot of people who claim to be friends with my father are not his friends at all. They’re people who want things from him—parts in movies, money, invitations to fancy parties, introductions to famous people. And a lot of actors and actresses that I know—well, they don’t have friends at all. They just have fans.”
Mel was trying to follow what Justin was saying. “What do you mean, they have fans, not friends, Justin?” she asked after a moment.
“I mean, they’re…Do you remember right after I signed your napkin today, another girl wanted my autograph?”
“Yes.”
“Well, she wanted it signed from Zack,” said Justin. “She liked my character, not me. And I’m not my character. I play Zack Brody for several hours each day when we’re shooting ‘It’s No Joke.’ But I am Justin Hart. In fact, I’m Justin Herbert Hart.”
“Justin Herbert Hart?” Mel couldn’t help giggling. Then she stopped abruptly. “Okay,” she said, “I understand how important a real friend was—is—to you—”
“And you were a real friend,” said Justin. “I have to admit that at first I thought you might have been one of the few people who recognized me from the commercials I’d done, especially when I found you spying on our house and everything, but I realized pretty fast that that wasn’t true at all. You didn’t know my name, and you were more interested in Robert Louis Stevenson than in who my father is.”
“But Justin,” said Mel, “now for the big question. Why didn’t you tell me about the TV show and the movies? When I found out about them—and obviously you knew that would happen—I felt like a real jerk. It was so humiliating. Dee was going around telling everyone that you and I had dated over the summer, and meanwhile I didn’t know a thing about your career. It made me look awfully silly, or it would have if I’d admitted that I didn’t know anything.”
“I didn’t tell you,” said Justin slowly, “because I thought it would change our friendship. I liked…I loved you so much that I just couldn’t bear the thought of our friendship having anything to do with what I am instead of who I am.”
Justin paused and took a deep breath. “Plus…” he went on, sounding hideously guilty.
“Why do I have the feeling I’m not going to like whatever it is you’re going to say?”
“I don’t know,” answered Justin, “but you’re right, you’re not. Plus…I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“What?”
“I knew I was going to be spending a lot of time with Tania Delaney and other girls. I’d work with them, or I’d be asked to take them places—to benefits and award ceremonies and stuff—and I kind of wanted to play the field. You know, see who else is out there. But I didn’t want us to worry about that while we were together over the summer. So I figured if you didn’t know about my career, then…”
“Is there anything to worry about?” asked Mel, remembering the rumors of a relationship between Justin and Tania that she’d read about in the magazines.
“No…not now.”
“So you have gone out with her?”
“Yes. And with several other girls, too. With Meredith Fitzhugh—she guest-starred on the show once—and with—”
“Justin, please. I do not want a list of the girls you dated.”
“Sorry.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me this is what you wanted to do?” Mel asked crossly. She was hurt, and having a hard time covering it up.
“I tried to,” Justin replied gently. “I meant it when I said we should be free—both of us—to date other people.”
Mel sighed. It was true. He had tried to tell her. And in fact she had gone out with P.J. But for Mel, P.J. was just someone to hang around with since she didn’t have Justin, while it sounded as if Justin had shoved her aside because he really wanted to date Tania and Meredith and who knows who else.
“So,” said Mel after a moment, “you never intended to call me?”
“I don’t know,” replied Justin. “Not for a long time, I guess.”
“And all that stuff about your parents moving—was that a lie?”
“No, it was all true. Mom’s already moved, and Dad’s found a new apartment. We move in three weeks.”
“Well, anyway,” Mel went on, “why did you give me your phone number today?”
“Because as soon as I saw you, I knew how stupid I’d been. All I had to do was look at you, and I realized how much you mean to me. I knew you didn’t care a bit about Zack Brody or the show. You’d come to Lincoln Center just to see me, right?”
“Right…Well, I had a few questions for you, too, of course.”
“Yeah. I figured you might be just a little bit mad, so I decided to give you the choice of whether to call me. But Mel, I haven’t told you the most important thing yet.”
“What’s that?” asked Mel, already dreading it.
“That I didn’t like any of the girls I went out with.”
“Not one?”
“Well, a couple of them were okay, but none of them was you. I mean, I didn’t feel the same way about them that I do about you.”
“Really?”
“Really. Believe me, where Tania’s concerned, what you see is what you get. She’s false eyelashes and expensive clothes, and guess what’s underneath?”
“What?” asked Mel.
“Nothing.”
“So you really don’t like her? Or the others? I keep looking at the pictures of Tania and feeling so plain and ordinary.”
“Mel,” Justin said seriously, “anyone who tails me on the beach and lies in the sand dunes spying on me with binoculars because I’m Justin Hart, not Zack Brody, is not ordinary, and is much more my type—and means much more to me—than a million Tanias or Merediths. And now I have a question for you…Would you come into the city some Saturday and spend the day with me?”
“Oh, Justin, you know I would. Just name the day,” replied Melanie.
So he did.