Authors: Thérèse
“I know, believe me. I know. It’s why I don’t trust myself sometimes. Like becoming an ‘overnight success,’ you know?”
“I can’t imagine what that must be like,” she replied.
“It’s weird,” Adam said. “Makes me feel like I didn’t earn it. My shrink tells me I should get over it. But guilt is in my DNA. Maybe I should try one of your workshops.”
“Ha! Right.” India smiled weakly as he handed her a glass of Pellegrino.
“If you get what you want too easily, too quickly, you lose your drive. I mean, if there’s no struggle, the energy just sort of dissipates… What was it Shakespeare said? ‘Give me a surfeit…’ Hell, what’s the line?”
“‘The appetite may sicken and so die?’” India offered.
“Precisely,” he said.
“We call that middle-aged angst,” she said. “It’s when not having a problem becomes the problem.”
“I like how you fill in my blanks. I’m not used to it.”
“Believe me, it’s a long time since I’ve had blanks to fill in,” she said, smiling at him.
“How about a walk? Nothing like a walk in Malibu to clear an existential head.”
She nodded.
“The thing is, I don’t want to make formulaic movies for the rest of my life,” he said, hauling some wooden steps down from the deck till they touched the sand. “The last one was just…”
“I’m afraid I didn’t actually see the last one,” India confessed. “I don’t go to the movies much in London.”
“Probably because you have a life. People in London have more to do than make movies or go see them. Here in LA, it’s like Woody Allen said, ‘The only cultural advantage to LA is turning right on a red light.’”
He grabbed her hand to steady her as she landed next to him with a bump on the hot sand, and they walked together to the water’s edge.
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
Clooney was slobbering noisily at his water bowl as Annabelle read India’s note. She poured two cups of Maria’s freshly ground fair-trade Chilean coffee, and walked barefoot across the lawn to Joss’ den. Tiptoeing through the wooden doorway, she found him curled up on the couch, reading. She liked this room, maybe because it was all Joss. He’d bought the beautiful antique Native American carpets himself and dragged them home after a gig in Santa Fe. The old oak coffee table had been bought at the auction of one of his silent screen idols. “The poor woman died broke and forgotten,” he’d said that afternoon. Sometimes, when he was away on tour, Annabelle would come in, close the door, and just stand there, gazing at the pictures of him; the walls were lined, floor to ceiling, with photographs – Joss with arms around Mick Jagger, another one of him laughing with Rod and Stevie. Dozens of golden discs and graphic cartoons covered the hallway that led into a small, state-of-the-art recording studio. She was as happy as he was in here, always had been.
“Hey, you,” she said, walking over and kissing him on top of his head. “Thought you might like some coffee.”
“Ah! You’re a mind reader, Annie,” he said, jumping up like a teenager to give her a hug.
She leaned into him and snuggled. “What time are you and Kenny taking the girls?”
“Depends what time I get out of here, doesn’t it?” he whispered, running one hand, slowly, down her back. Moving over to the door, he locked it and gently untied the belt of her robe. She smiled and let it slip to the floor.
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
Annie was delighted that Lizzie had said yes to a last-minute lunch date at Il Cielo, her favorite Italian spot, but as she sat back in the car, she fought the impulse to touch the lump in her throat. Why hadn’t she called the doctor? Because she was terrified, that’s why. Because a few more hours in denial wouldn’t kill her, she decided. As the car slowed down outside the restaurant in Beverly Hills, she fumbled around in her bag for her lipstick.
“Thanks, Robert,” she said as the car came to a gentle stop and the door lock clicked open. “Why don’t you take some time off for your own lunch? Lizzie can drop me off.”
“Are you absolutely sure?” Robert replied. “You know I don’t mind waiting.”
“Of course I’m sure,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder. “Enjoy the afternoon.”
A young waiter was standing under the arched entranceway.
“You are Miss Butler-Elliot?” he said, awestruck.
“So they tell me,” she replied, lightly.
He stood motionless, nailed to the floor, gaping. Annabelle was accustomed to putting other people at ease. It was part of her job.
“I’m here for lunch?” she suggested.
“Oh yes, such an honor, my privilege,” he said, in a heavy Venetian dialect. Opening one arm wide, as if to take a bow, he directed her to a circular table tucked discreetly amid leafy vines, where he scraped back a wrought-iron chair and gave an Elizabethan flourish to her napkin.
Annie appreciated the secluded spot. But the possibility of privacy had been spectacularly blown away by his theatrics. Still, she was gracious.
“Lovely,” she said, looking him straight in the eye. “Perfect.”
It wasn’t long before Lizzie appeared, waving frantically from beneath the pagodas, and ran over as if jet propelled. Annie grinned as they kissed. “Three kids and you look about sixteen years old. I don’t know how you do it!” Annie exclaimed.
It was almost true. Lizzie was the epitome of sleek chic. Her long streaked hair was blown straight, her skin buffed, and her emerald green eyes were accentuated with just the faintest hint of violet shadow. She wore an exquisite topaz necklace around her bronzed neck, and an elegant peach silk blouse and white jeans.
“Ha!” her friend whispered. “Thanks. I feel like shit! Rhonda didn’t sleep a wink last night and the boys had me up at five. The housekeeper called in sick and I had to drive, round-trip, for a playdate all the way to the Palisades.”
“My God! Why didn’t you tell me? I would have come to you or we could have met up tomorrow. I remember showing up on the set after two hours’ sleep. It’s murder.”
Scanning the menu, Lizzie sighed. “Are you kidding? I couldn’t wait to get out of the house. Don’t ask me how I could feel claustrophobic in fifteen thousand square feet of space, but I do.”
The waiter was back. “Miss Butler, let me tell you about the specials we are having today.”
“We’re not terribly hungry,” Annie said, cutting him off, politely. “Could we just order two of your arugula salads, please, with dressing on the side? And oh! Lizzie? A half bottle of Gavi?”
“Great idea,” Lizzie agreed. “Maybe even a full bottle. And Pellegrino.”
“Excellent choice,” the waiter noted, nodding as he backed up. Lizzie touched her friend’s cheek. “So where’s India?” she asked.
“A coffee date with Adam Brooks.”
“Wow! That was fast work. How long’s she been here?”
“A week. I’m really glad to see her, but she’s having some trouble settling in. I think she’s had a rough year. But how’s Tom and the flu?”
“He’s much better but he gave it to Rhonda. We seem to share everything in our family … including husbands.”
Lizzie was suddenly close to tears. “She’s eighteen, for Christ’s sake…”
Annie looked at her. momentarily confused, and then concerned.
“I’m talking about the nanny. Eighteen, and my husband was screwing her.”
“Oh God, I know, Lizzie. I am so sorry. Do you feel like talking about it?”
Waiting, patiently, until the waiter had uncorked and poured their first glass of wine, Lizzie wiped her eyes with the edge of a linen napkin. “Look, it’s not like I thought I married the Dalai Lama, you know? But the nanny? Puhleeze.”
“I don’t suppose I can ask why you’re putting up with it?”
“Of course you can ask. I’ve been asking myself the same question lately. I told my shrink yesterday I might finally be finding the courage to walk away. Stan has joint custody of his older kids and they’re making my life a living hell.”
Annie listened quietly as Lizzie shared the weight of her sadness.
“Henry treats me like staff, refuses to pick up after himself and loves provoking Tom and Jack. And I detest his friends. They’re just awful.”
“Are they around every weekend?”
“And then some,” her friend replied, picking her way through her salad. “And don’t get me started on Sophie. She’s spoiled rotten.”
Annie didn’t much like the teenage stepdaughter either.
“It’s strange,” Lizzie said, almost wistfully. “I remember how I admired your strength. That time when you stood your ground with Joss.”
“Yeah, well. It was years ago, before the kids. It hurt but I knew that woman was just a groupie. I mean, she was never a real threat.”
“But you left, Annie. And he came back to you on your own terms. No way he’d risk losing you again. We all know that. My problem is I’m scared stiff.”
“We’re all scared, sometimes,” Annie said, putting her hand over Lizzie’s. “Anyone who says they’re not is lying. Or has nothing to lose.”
“Whatever. I still admire you.”
“Thanks, Lizzie. There are so few people I genuinely trust. And you’re one of them. So what now?”
“What now? How ’bout this?” she said, lifting her wrist and pointing to her Cartier Panthere bracelet. “My consolation prize.”
“At least he has good taste,” Annie said, laughing.
“Right. There is that. But c’mon. You haven’t told me anything about you.”
It wasn’t the time for Annabelle to mention her own terrors.
“I’m exhausted. I mean, more exhausted than I’ve ever been. And I have two years to catch up on with India. We Skype, but it’s not the same as being together.” Annabelle looked away, thinking back to the scene in the kitchen, India’s outburst.
“You’re lucky to be so close to your sister. My brother’s off with that firm in Saudi and we’ve never been close, anyway. He’s ten years older than me. But bring India over for lunch. Promise? I love her sense of humor.”
“Yes I will. She’d like that.”
The waiter was hovering like a low-flying chopper over their table.
“Oh my God, look at the time, Lizzie. Can you give me a lift home? I gave Robert the afternoon off.”
“Love to,” Lizzie said, standing up and hugging her friend. “You’re a rock, you know that?”
“I’m here for you,” Lizzie said, taking her arm as they walked toward the valet.
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
“Let’s cut to the chase…,” Adam said, tearing off a hunk of bread and dipping it in olive oil. “I was married once. The whole she-bang, Notre Dame Cathedral, honeymoon in St. Bart’s. It didn’t work out.”
“Yes, Annie told me the other night,” India answered before she could stop herself.
Adam grinned. “Of course she did. So what else did Annie tell you? Does she approve of me hitting on her sister?”
(He’s hitting on me! Omygod!) “Well, she damned you with faint praise, but she didn’t say anything too damaging,” she teased. “So tell me what I’m looking at right now,” she said, leaning forward to take in the stunning panorama from the rooftop restaurant.
“Well, that’s Santa Monica Bay over there,” Adam replied, using his thumb like a hitchhiker to indicate the direction. “And Point Dume’s the other way.”
“Sounds ominous. What’s Point Doom?”
“It’s a beach and it’s spelled with a u not an o.”
“Right, like Urth Café.” She laughed. “Spelled with a u not an ea. God, it’s breathtaking,” she added. “I can’t imagine what it must be like to live here. It’s been such miserable weather in London.”
Adam rested his arms behind his head. “Maybe you could franchise your workshops over here.”
“I’m not exactly running a conglomerate, you know.” She laughed.
“I’m just saying there’s opportunity here. California can always use another workshop!”
“I’m listening. But I’d rather hear more about you and what happened when the marriage was over.”
“I worked a lot, partied a lot, the usual stuff. But it’s your turn now. I want to hear all about you – the personal stuff.”
Holding her hand up to block the sun, more to deflect the question, she realized, India shifted her chair into the shade.
“I’m British, remember? We don’t ‘do’ personal stuff. However, I will tell you that I’ve never been married and I’m free as a bird. Well, at the moment, anyway.” As in, “miserably unattached for some time,” she thought.
“That’s good news,” Adam said, rising from his seat. “Let’s swap.”
Touched by his gallantry, India changed places. The two girls at the next table were staring at him. One had turned around and was pretending to adjust the strap of her shoe, while the other was checking him out with her makeup mirror.
“Thank you. I didn’t plan on being at the beach,” she said, “or I’d have worn something more covered.” Possibly a straw hat, a polka-dot shirt, white-framed sunglasses and a touch of red lipstick…? “So tell me. What do you do when you’re not working?”
Adam sighed. “Last couple of years, I’ve been obsessed with the fitness thing. Typical, I guess. I run most mornings and I’ve hired this killer personal trainer. She’s got me into yoga and meditation and even some behavioral psychology.”
“I’ve heard of that. Hasn’t it got something to do with hypnotism?”
“Yeah. I used it to stop smoking.”
“I tried hypnosis to stop drinking,” India said, noticing that the girl behind them was still “adjusting her shoe.” “The hypnotist reprogrammed my subconscious to stop after the second glass of wine. Unfortunately, by the time I had the second glass, my subconscious was drunk, too.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Adam laughed, raising his glass. “And I sure hope you’re hungry.”
“I’m always hungry,” India said as a huge platter of sizzling king prawns and lobster appeared like magic between them. “And why is everything in America so much BIGGER than everywhere else?” she added. “I mean, how do you swallow something that big?” she said, spearing one of the giant prawns.
“I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear a double entendre there,” he said.
India fluttered her eyelashes. “Mr. Brooks I have absolutely no idea to what you are referring!”
“And so moving on…” He grinned. “Let’s get back to this franchise of yours. I have a lot of friends, you know. I’m connected. I could help.”
Wrenching a vibrating cell phone from his front pocket, he rolled his eyes. “Hold onto that thought. Okay. I’ll be right back, I promise.”