All My Tomorrows (10 page)

A vaguely familiar actor whom Alice had seen in
several scenes but didn’t know by name walked up to them. “Hey, Pete, who’s
your friend.”

Peter cringed and sighed. “Alice, this is Dirk –
Dirk Schoenstein – he plays Portia’s nephew. Dirk, Alice is the head writer for
All My Tomorrows.
”

“You’re kidding!” Dirk said as he shook her hand.
“I was on that soap for two years.”

Peter flinched at this information. “You never
mentioned that.”

“Oh, yeah! Sienna’s first lover. She gave up the
Church for me.”

Alice laughed. “Oh, so you’re the one! That was
before my time.”

Dirk’s eyes were smiling and friendly. “I’m sorry
I missed you. Or maybe I just don’t remember because of my amnesia.” He and
Alice laughed.

 Peter said, “Seems like everyone on the show has
slept with Sienna except me.”

“Oh, yeah,” Dirk said. “I heard about the
‘shocking revelation.’ So how is Giselle? I haven’t seen her in a dog’s age.”

“To be honest, she’s having a rough time right
now,” Alice said then turned to Peter. “You know, your friend is a real ass.”

“Why? What happened?” Dirk asked.

“Giselle and this guy were dating, pretty
seriously she thought. Then once his pal Peter was off the show, she never
heard from him again. Bitch-buttoned her calls, wouldn’t reply to her texts. No
fight, no break-up email, nothing.”

“He sounds like a douche.”

“That’s what I told her, that anyone who would do
something like that didn’t deserve her; but she’s still really broken up about
it.” She glanced at Peter for his response, but he just frowned and squinted at
her. “You’re not going to defend him, are you?”

“Peter!” Cleo’s voice rang out from the other side
of the set.

“You better go,” Alice said. “If she screams
again, I might have to strangle her.”

He smiled and walked away.

The group of cast and crew were virtually the only
inhabitants of the courtyard at McMurry’s; and Alice sat with Eileen, Evan, and
Dirk at a table near the flaming fountain.

Dirk said, “I’m surprised there aren’t more
tourists.”

“Well, it is a Monday night,” said Eileen. “They
are probably going home or still recovering from the weekend.”

“Or maybe they are just hot,” Alice said,
eliciting groans from Evan and Eileen.

“How long are you going to bitch about the heat?”

“I guess until I cool off.”

Then
the voice.
“Try this. Maybe it will
cool you off.”

Alice spun her head around and reflexively
accepted the glass Peter extended to her.

“A mint julep,” he said. “May I join you?”

Well, who is going to tell Peter Walsingham no?
Alice didn’t budge but sipped her drink as the others rearranged chairs to
accommodate the new arrival.

“It’s delicious,” she said to Peter once he had
settled beside her. And it was. “Thank you.” He nodded in reply.

“What brings you out, Pete?” Dirk asked. “You
aren’t afraid that the film will suffer if you aren’t holed away rehearsing?”

“I don’t think the film could suffer any more than
it does already,” Peter said.

“And where is your lovely co-star?” Alice asked.

“Cleo? I sent her to bed with warm milk and the
script.”

“Perhaps she could put it under her pillow and
learn her lines by osmosis.”

He smiled at her. “Nothing else has worked.”

He smiled at me
...

Nothing felt right. Nothing felt real.
Conversations continued around her, but she heard all of the voices as if she
were underwater. Her skin waged a shoving-match with the atmosphere, the heavy,
floral-scented night air covering her like a warm, damp blanket. She had
already had three cocktails. She must be drunk from the alcohol and the humidity.
She drank the mint julep then fished two ice cubes from the glass and put them
on the nape of her neck. She closed her eyes as the ice melted into a cool
rivulet down her back.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, and she opened her
eyes.

“Yes, I really am just hot and tired and – oh, my
God.” At the sight of the scurrying creature on the wall, she spoke low but
wanted to scream.

“What is it?”

“What was in this drink? Please tell me I’m
hallucinating.” He followed her line of vision. “On the wall. Right there.
Running on the wall. Is that a…a rat?”

“Do you mean with the white fur?”

“Well, yes!”

He turned back to her. “No, I don’t see anything.
I think you are hallucinating.” He stuck two fingers into her glass and
retrieved more ice. He leaned toward her and ran his hand beneath her hair and
held the ice against her skin.

The nearness of his mouth made her dizzy and her
heart race, and his holding the ice against her somehow made her warmer. “Then
how did you know it was white?”

“Oh, the
white
fur. No, that’s not a rat.
That was a cat.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t think I
believe you. Eileen?” But by the time she got Eileen’s attention, the
ivy-covered walls were critter-free.

“Do you want another drink?” Peter asked.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

The ice had melted, but he still held his hand
against her damp neck, his fingers gently massaging the base of her skull. “I
think I’m too late for that.”

He’s trying to seduce me.  He’s trying to
seduce me, and it’s working.

Eileen called out, “Alice, are you ready to go?”

Alice nodded, and Peter stood with his hand still
on her neck and offered to walk them.

“No, we’ll be okay,” Eileen said. “It’s just a few
blocks.”

“I’m worried about her.”

Once Alice realized Peter meant her, she forced
herself to her feet. “No, I’m fine. You stay here and enjoy your juleps.”

Peter reached for her hand, but Alice turned and
walked across the courtyard and through the hall out to the Quarter before he
could say anything.

Eileen ran up behind her. “Alice, what is going on
with you and Peter?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m like the
Matterhorn to him.”

“The Matterhorn?”

“Just another conquest he has yet to make. He wants
to plant his flag in me.”

CHAPTER
9

“Why are you crying?” Alice asked Eileen when she
found her sitting alone in the courtyard behind the bar.

“I don’t know.” Eileen sniffed and wiped at her
eyes with a cocktail napkin. “I’m happy; I’m sad. I can’t believe it’s over. My
first film!”

Evan walked over from the bar and set down three
cocktails. “She’s just sorry our little family is breaking up,” he said as he
sat down.

“Don’t make fun, Evan. I am going to miss
everyone. I wish I were going to Toronto with you.”

“We only have to reshoot a few scenes, just a few
days. I will call you as soon as I get back to L.A. Now stop all that crying
and let’s have a good time tonight. A toast.” They lifted their plastic cups.
“May all the bridges we burn light our way.”

After one recklessly large sip, Alice contorted
her face and stuck out her tongue. “Blech! What is that?”

“Red Bull and vodka. Keep drinking – you’ll get
used to it. I want you girls to have plenty of energy tonight for
singing!
”
He sang the final word.

“Oh, yeah – no one told me this was a karaoke bar.
Eileen knows I hate karaoke.”

“Come on,” Eileen said. “It’ll be fun. It’s our
last night. You have a wonderful singing voice.”

“Uh-uh. No way. Since it’s the last night and
won’t become a regular thing, I’ll stay and laugh at all of you, but I am not
getting on that stage. There’s a reason I work behind the scenes.”

 “What reason is that?” Peter’s voice asked behind
her.

Alice twisted her neck to face him. “I do not
perform for strangers.”

The corners of his mouth turned up a fraction of
an inch. “May we join you?”

“Where is Cleo?”

He blinked and said, “How should I know?”

Dirk had walked out with Peter and maneuvered
another chair next to Alice and sat down. “How are you, pretty girl?”

After the night of what Alice referred to as the
“Rat McFurry’s Incident,” the cast and some of the crew had continued to
patronize the French Quarter’s drinking establishments – with Alice, Eileen,
Evan, and Dirk making up an odd foursome – usually concluding at a corner bar
with an eighties cover band, but of the Def Leppard/Bon Jovi variety. No fear
of hearing “Careless Whisper” there.  Peter would appear wherever they were,
sometimes with Cleo. In general, Alice had managed to keep her distance since
Dirk monopolized her attention while Peter hovered nearby. Occasionally the
paparazzi would arrive, snapping photos of the film’s two stars, prompting
Peter to leave. For the most part, in a city known for leaving celebrities
alone, no one approached him, although there were plenty of gawkers and phones
taking pictures.

Peter pulled a buzzing cellphone from his pocket and,
after checking the screen, excused himself to take the call.

“Why did you bring him here?” Alice asked Dirk the
moment Peter walked away.

“He didn’t give me much of a choice. I think he
was waiting for me, then he asked if he could join us. What was I supposed to
say? It’s Peter Walsingham, for Christ’s sake.”

Alice took another sip and her lips squinched
involuntarily. “Karaoke and now Peter. Can’t I at least get a decent cocktail?”

“I could take you someplace else.”

Eileen glared at him. “Don’t you dare!”

“No, it’s okay,” Alice said. “I can tolerate him
for one night. And now that you’re done, I can confront him about the lawsuit.”

“Please, Alice, not tonight. Can’t you just let it
go for one more night?”

Alice blew out a deep breath and nodded. “The things
I do for you.”

“I gotta say, this is really refreshing,” Dirk
said. “Most women – especially from L.A. – are constantly throwing themselves
at Peter hoping he will get them into movies.”

“Maybe they just want to screw a good-looking
movie star,” Alice said.

“Hmm…maybe, but some people will do anything to be
‘discovered.’ When we were up in Toronto, Peter told me he found out this woman
had been sleeping with his agent to help her film career.”

Alice stopped breathing. “What?”

“Yeah, she was probably using him to get to Peter.
Jack looked really bummed about it when he found out.”

Alice’s face went numb, and once she realized she
still hadn’t taken a breath, she gasped for air.

“Are you okay?”

Before she could answer Dirk, Peter returned and
took the seat across from Alice. “Sorry about that. I’m trying to straighten
some things out for tomorrow.”

Alice told Dirk, “I’m going to need more alcohol.
Can I get a real drink?” He signaled for one of the waitresses who had been
loitering nearby.
Hoping for the opportunity to serve Peter, no doubt.
“I’d like a whole lot of vodka and a splash of cranberry.”

After one of those, Alice’s mood had improved
substantially, and she laughed with the others as they recounted anecdotes from
the film as if reminiscing about things that had happened years ago instead of
just the week before. A waitress approached Peter with a rack of bright-colored
test tubes.

“So what do you have here?”

The waitress pointed them out. “Grape crush, sex
on the beach, lemondrop...”

“I like sex on the beach.” Then he looked straight
at Alice. “How ‘bout you?”

“How about a body shot?” the waitress asked as she
pulled out the test tube.

“How would that work?”

“Well, I could put it here,” she said pointing to
her cleavage, “or you could drink it from my mouth or…wherever.”

The others at the table called out their
encouragement, but Peter shook his head and took the test tube and drank it
back. The others groaned and Dirk called him a chicken.

“That’s exactly the thing that would wind up on
the front page of the tabloids,” Peter said.

“I’ll do it,” Alice said and stood up.

Peter raised his eyebrows to her then looked again
at the tubes. “All right, Miss McGillicutty, I will pick one out for you. What
is this one?”

“Love potion number two,” the shot girl said.

“Perfect.” He pulled out the tube and handed it to
Alice.

“How do you want it?” the waitress asked her.

“Mouth is fine.”

The girl took the shot and placed it in her mouth,
she and Alice locked lips, and with a quick twist they separated, with Alice
holding the empty test tube in her teeth. She shrugged at the cheers of Eileen,
Evan, and Dirk. Then she tossed the tube to Peter, who sat silently smiling.

“Any more?” asked the girl.

“No more of those,” Peter said. “I think we need
real shots. What kind of tequila do you have?”

After the first round of salt/shot/lime, they
pulled Alice inside where the strains of karaoke music echoed throughout the
crowded bar. A table had been held for them, and their appearance provoked
points and stares, which Peter ignored. Somehow Alice ended up between Peter
and Dirk, but after the next round of salt/shot/lime, she didn’t care.

Then the moment she had dreaded arrived – karaoke.
Eileen and Evan begged and cajoled, but she wouldn’t budge. They were the first
of them to go on stage with a ridiculous rendition of “I Got You, Babe” that
had the audience howling.

Later, as Eileen and Dirk launched into “Summer
Nights,” Peter said something to Alice, but she couldn’t hear.

“WHAT?”

“I ASKED IF YOU FINISHED YOUR BOOK,” he said over
the noise.

“HOW DID YOU KNOW I WAS WRITING A BOOK?”

“YOU’RE WRITING A BOOK?”

“ISN’T EVERYONE?”

“WHAT’S IT ABOUT?”

“I’M NOT GOING TO SCREAM OUT THE PLOT LIKE THIS.”

“I ACTUALLY MEANT THE BOOK YOU WERE READING. THE
EDGE OF DARKNESS.”

“OH. ALMOST. I’VE BEEN READING IT MAINLY FOR WORK,
FOR INSPIRATION.”

Eileen and Dirk finished their song to raucous
applause.

“ARE YOU READY FOR ANOTHER ROUND?” Peter asked
Alice.

“YOU’RE DOING IT AGAIN.”

“WHAT?”

“TRYING TO GET ME DRUNK. IT WON’T WORK.”

He shook his head. “NO. NOT YOU. IT’S FOR ME.”

The noise abated somewhat while the emcee chatted
with the next performers.

“Why do you want to get drunk?”

“Not drunk. Just courage.” He reached out and
wrapped one of her curls around his finger, watching as he played with her hair
before bringing his gaze to her eyes.

“Why do you need courage?”

He leaned over and put his mouth to her ear. “I
need to talk to you about something, Alice.” His lips grazed her ear as he
spoke and made her shiver. “Just talk. I want to ask you something. Will you
let me? Can I talk to you tonight?” He pulled back and peered at her awaiting
her answer.

Eileen appeared before them, grabbed Alice’s hand,
and pulled her up. “No more excuses. You are going to sing with me – now!”
Alice followed her to the stage as if sleepwalking.
Just talk. What does he
want to talk to me about? It must be the lawsuit!

After Alice, Eileen, and Evan belted out “When
Will I Be Loved,” Evan forced Alice into “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” even
though she had always hated that song. Evan’s boisterous imitation of Elton
John had everyone laughing.

“That was…interesting,” Peter said when she
returned.

“I don’t see you up there,” Alice said standing
over him. “When are you going to enthrall us all with your song?” The others
joined her in the peer pressure.

“I’m not sure I want to see that on the tabloids
either,” he said, but they wouldn’t let up. Finally he stood up and the others
applauded. “Okay, I will under one condition.” With his eyes on Alice, he said,
“If you sing with me.”

“Oh, no! I don’t want to be part of your tabloid
shame.”

“C’mon, you sang with them. You can sing with me.”

Dirk said, “Pete, if she doesn’t want to, leave
her alone.”

“Just one song.”

“And after hearing me, you still want me to sing
with you?”

“You have an incredible voice. That’s why I need
you.”

Does he always have to look at me with those
eyes?
She relented. “One song – but it depends on what you pick. None of
those sappy singers.”

Peter ran over and checked with the stage for a
few minutes then returned. “How about Ozzy Osborne?”

She chuckled. “Seriously? Black Sabbath Ozzy?
That’s what you want to sing.”

“I will if you will.”

“I can probably sing metal.”
What Ozzy song
would they have for karaoke? Maybe “No More Tears”?

He took her hand and pulled her toward the stage
as the gathered crowd parted like the Red Sea. He signaled to the emcee who
introduced him and incited screams and applause from the audience. Their hands
parted as he mounted the stage. He took a microphone then held his hand out for
her again, but she hesitated. Almost everyone in the bar had his cellphone ready
to record.
Am I really going to get on stage and sing Sabbath in front of
all these people?

Then the music began, and it was no Sabbath song
she knew. The opening guitar was slow and melodious. Then he sang the first
verse as he stared down at her, and she knew she’d been had. “Close My Eyes
Forever.” She was about to be publicly serenaded.

“You promised,” he said at a pause, and she took
his hand and joined him.

For some reason, people clapped when she got on
stage, even though she knew they had no idea who she was or why Peter
Walsingham would be singing to her; but the thing was, as he held onto her hand
and gazed into her eyes, she could almost believe he meant the words he sang.
Then she reminded herself.
Actor.

Somehow a microphone materialized in her hand, but
– too stunned to move – she couldn’t bring it to her mouth. After singing the
refrain, he began the second verse, and she forgot he was acting. She might
have stood there transfixed if he hadn’t squeezed her hand to remind her to
sing. When she began, the audience cheered, perhaps vicariously joining her on
stage; but then they all disappeared. She couldn’t see anyone, she couldn’t
hear anyone except Peter. He pulled her closer to him, and it pulled at her
heart as well. He kissed her hand, closing his eyes and letting his lips linger
until he sang again. They switched some of the parts, not singing the lyrics as
assigned for the duet but instinctively knowing which words belonged to whom.

And then it was over. The music ended, and they
stood staring at each other until the applause returned them to the stage. As
the audience cheers rose, Peter drug Alice off the stage and out onto Bourbon
Street. She had no idea where he was taking her at this frantic pace,
navigating through the crowds on the street and sidewalk, and everything
happened too quickly for her to wonder or protest.  Then he led her down an
empty alley, but halfway down, he stopped and turned around. They were both
breathing heavily from the exertion, and a sheen of sweat glistened on his
forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t take it anymore.”

He wrapped his arms around her, brought her tight
against his body, and covered her mouth with his. A sensation she could only
identify as relief flooded through her, relief in finally getting something she
didn’t even know she had been needing. Her arms crawled up around his neck, and
he walked her back against a brick wall, providing him leverage to deepen the
kiss even more. His hands roamed over her body then made their way up her
shirt, flesh to flesh, as their tongues continued to tangle.

The kiss continued on and on, for minutes, maybe
hours. She didn’t know or care or want it to end, but end it did. He pulled his
hands out from beneath her shirt to hold her head between them, and he broke
the kiss to regain his breath.

As he laid kisses on her forehead, eyes, cheeks,
nose, he whispered, “Thank God, thank God, thank God,” again and again. Then
his mouth took hers again, and she could have cried out a prayer of thanks that
their lips and tongues were back where they belonged. He claimed her. In that
moment, he owned her and could lead her wherever he wanted and she would
follow.