Shards of Glass (10 page)

“You need to leave, babe.”

“I don’t think I’m going anywhere right now.”

“Okay, let me get straight to the point. You know I said you’d be sloppy seconds?”

“Yes, but—”

“You’d be sloppy tenths,” she interrupted.

“
What
are you talking about?”

“Daniel Glass is on a pussy rampage right now. Word has it—even in the last couple of days? He’s fucked like, three women.”

“But that’s not his style,” I hissed into the line, “and he’s still mourning his wife!”

“Open up your big brown Bambi eyes and listen to me. I have this from a seriously sound source. Daniel is
majorly
fucking around right now. His wife is dead, he’s hurting, and he’s on a roll. I do
not
want you to be another notch on his bedpost.”

Jealousy seared me like a scalding iron. “Who? Who’s he fucked?”

“Tall blond actresses and models. All Natasha Jürgen lookalikes. He gets to cherry pick. In Hollywood, being a director is akin to being a Greek god. Or a king. Even for the pockmarked ugly ones. But for someone as good looking as
Daniel Glass
, women—particularly wannabe starlets—wait in line. Around the block. Apparently he has a huge dick too, and they’re screaming for seconds, but he’s loving and leaving them and acting like a prize jerk. Janie, keep
away
from him until he gets this fuckathon out of his system.”

My eyes strayed back to Daniel, who had just gotten out of the pool. His body was cut like the fine piece of Glass it was. His legs, strong and muscular, his ass tight and oh, just so
right.
It made me sick to think he was screwing around. Yet not with
me
! Daniel, a promiscuous player? It just didn’t suit his personality. But Star was right. I couldn’t risk it. Just one chastising look from him could send me into a post-mortem for days. Even weeks. If I had sex with him and then he ignored me afterward, it would destroy me. I had to stay strong, no matter how tempting he was.

I eyed him up as he grabbed a towel, water dripping off him like shining crystals. Fuck, he was handsome. Beautiful. Men just weren’t made like him anymore. No, they looked too “done” these days, too pampered, like they’d made a ton of effort looking into a mirror and preening themselves—shoving products in their hair. Even shaving their chests and balls. So unmanly! So self-obsessed. Not Daniel—he was naturally good looking without having to try—pure one hundred percent tough, alpha male, every last inch of him, especially where it counted most. I wanted to explore him, immerse myself in him, but I knew how dangerous he was. At least, for me.

He sauntered toward me, smiling, his straight white teeth the only part of him that looked wholly American. He’d once told me he was a mixture of Italian, Cherokee, Irish, Scottish, Polish, and English. He was mysterious, ruthless, kind, unrelenting, unusual, and most importantly, his mind worked like nobody I had ever known. He was a one-off, an anomaly, and boy, was I hooked. It wasn’t just his body, his beautiful face, and his intelligence that had me entranced—it was his soul. Even the darkest part of his soul.

“Star, I’ve got to go,” I whispered into the phone.

“I mean it, Janie. If anybody knows what directors are like, it’s me. Girls wet their panties over men like Daniel, and ninety-nine percent of single men cannot resist hungry, sexy big-titted starlets. Trust me. Keep. Away.”

“I’ll be home soon,” I said, my eyes still roving over Daniel’s lithe body.

“No, not home, meet me in a hour—you, Cindy, and I are doing lunch. I’ll text you the address of the restaurant. Bye, hon.”

I pressed
END
.

“Daniel, I’m off,” I told him in an easy voice, or at least I tried to make it seem that way. Actually, I probably sounded pretty shaky.

He didn’t reply, just looked at me, his expression giving nothing away. He was in his swim trunks, dripping wet. I noticed his beautiful feet—even his toes were a fucking work of art.

“I’m meeting Star’s agent,” I explained.

“Cindy Spektor?”

“Yes, how do you know?”

“Because she wants to represent me. I met with her yesterday, as a matter of fact.”

“Oh, cool. What’s she like?”

“Tall, blond, imposing, and
very
determined to get her way.” His mouth tilted into what I interpreted as a smirk.

I could feel my lips tighten, my chin strike a haughty pose. One of his fucks, for sure! I already hated Cindy Spektor and I hadn’t even set eyes on her. I couldn’t contain the hostility in my tone. “And? Are you going to sign with her?”

“Would it bother you if I did?” Obviously I wore my heart on my sleeve—he knew me too well, or at least, he could gauge my emotions.

“Of course it wouldn’t bother me,” I lied. “Make whatever choices you see fit.” Again, my words as bitter as a triple espresso.

“Well, I’m in no rush.” He took a step forward, a trace of a smile edging his lips. I needed to get away from him before he had me on my back, legs akimbo, begging for round two.

“So what are your plans then, if you’re no longer doing the film?” I fired out, turning to go.

“I’m going back to New York.”

I made my way to the hallway as he followed me. Then I turned to face him and said, “By the way, does the movie even have a working title? And if you’re not directing it, who is?”

“You’ll have to ask them. I’m out, I have no idea who they’ll approach next. As far as a working title is concerned they were brainstorming yesterday, after you left, and came up with
The Dark Edge of Love
. Janie, is something wrong? You seem agitated. Why are you rushing off so fast?”

“I’m fine, just running late. Nice to see you, Daniel, see you around.”

He grabbed me by the wrist. “See you
around
? What
is
this? Who was that on the phone? You seem . . . I don’t know . . . pissed off with me in some way, all of a sudden.”

I held his gaze. “When you have this whole
thing
out of your system, give me a call.”

“This . . . ‘
thing
?’ You’re referring to my wife’s
death
?”

Boy, I sounded crass and unfeeling.
“I mean all the
side
effects her death is causing,” I quickly amended.
The fact you
can’t keep it in your pants.

“Janie, the situation is very different from how you imagine, trust me.” He drew me close to him again, his cool, wet hand sliding along my arm.

The “situation.” The fuckathon, you mean,
as Star so aptly described it.
“I really have to go, Daniel.” I pulled my arm away.

“I’m sorry if I came on too strong, I just thought after yesterday’s kiss—”

That I was an easy target.
Your next fuck nicely lined up.
“Yesterday’s kiss,” I cut in, “was a mistake.” The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and cast his eyes down. I knew that game—the game men so often play when they want to get into your panties; the
I’m just a sweet puppy dog and you’ve hurt my feelings
manipulation tactic. I wasn’t buying it. This man was in
no way
ready for a relationship—he’d even said so himself! Yet I’d been so close to falling into my own trap. Luckily, Star had shoved some strong coffee under my nose and I had woken up with a jolt. Now
compos mentis,
I sure as hell wasn’t going to be his one-night stand—worse, one-
afternoon
stand—one of his many hook-ups, his sloppy tenths or elevenths.

“I’ll let you know how the negotiations go,” I said coolly. “And what I think of Cindy Spektor.” I spat out the word Spektor without meaning to.

“Give me a hug before you race off,” Daniel implored, following me through the front door, a look of incomprehension on his flummoxed and furrowed brow.

I turned around, blinking so he couldn’t see the tears well up in my eyes, as I let him put his arms around me. He smelled so good. I discreetly breathed him in.

“You’re special, Janie Juilliard. Don’t let them ever tell you otherwise.” Hugging me close, he whispered in my ear, “Please stay longer. Stay with me. Please don’t go.”

I had to muster all my strength to pull away. “Sorry, I just can’t.” And I dashed down the steps of this grand Italianate mansion and jumped into Star’s convertible, fired it up and sped off before he could persuade me otherwise.

Once safely out of the grand gates, and zipping around the precariously curvy mountain road of Mulholland Drive, I pulled over and got out my cellphone. I killed the engine. I still had plenty of time before lunch and my motor-mind couldn’t get off the subject of Natasha Jürgen. Punishing myself, I Googled her. There were pages and pages of images. Red carpet; stunning in various designer gowns. Smiling, resplendent, glimmering. Ophelia in
Hamlet
, Nina in
The Seagull
. Modeling photos. In every picture she looked so beautiful. Wavy blond hair cascading over her shoulders. Her full, natural bust evocative yet classy. She was that rare combination of sex siren and beauty all in one. Daniel must have been besotted with her; she’d be a tough act to follow for any woman.

I pressed “Web.”

Wikipedia sprang onto the first page. I clicked on it:

Natasha Katrine Jürgen (1979 – 2014) was a Tony Award-winning stage and screen actress and a former fashion model. In 2000 she came to prominence and critical acclaim in the theatrical production of Hamlet when she played Ophelia, being one of the youngest recipients ever to win the prestigious Theater World Award for her performance. Other awards received were The Critics’ Theater Circle Award for the leading role in Antigone, and a Drama Desk Award for her role of Cordelia in King Lear.

Early life.

Jürgen was born in San Diego, California, the daughter of Helen Jürgen, a homemaker, and Steven Jürgen, a lawyer and business owner. Her maternal grandparents were from Germany and Sweden. She was raised in Springfield, Connecticut, with her older sister, Kristin, now a neurologist.

Modeling career

At the age of 15, Jürgen entered the Casablanca Modeling Agency’s Look of the Year contest and was chosen first runner-up. The following year, she went to Milan, Italy, to pursue her modeling ambitions. At 16, she was featured on her first magazine cover, the Italian edition of Vogue. Several more magazine covers followed and Jürgen went on to do television commercials for products such as L’Oréal, and editorial campaigns for Roberto Cavalli, and Burberry London. Her modeling career established, Jürgen moved on to a career in film, her first serious role, playing the lead Jacqueline in
In Your Dreams,
where she was spotted by theater director Gavin Black, who cast her as Ophelia in Hamlet, which was the beginning of a long illustrious theatrical career.

My eyes scanned down all the endless theater and film credits until I landed on her personal life.

Personal life

Jürgen was married to theater director Daniel Glass from 2012 to 2014. They did not have any children although it was rumored that she was pregnant at the time of her death. She tragically died of an epidural hematoma after being hit by a bicycle while crossing the road in Central Park in 2014.

I didn’t go over the details of the “Injury and Death” part that followed. I’d read the story a hundred times. But the
pregnancy
?
That
wasn’t on Wiki the last time I looked! I felt faint. She was
pregnant
? Poor Daniel, not just losing his wife, but his baby too. Not only had I jinxed Natasha, but an innocent baby! No wonder his head was all over the place right now. And I had been responsible, with my
wish-they’d-split-up
thoughts.

But my sympathy and self-hatred soon morphed into jealousy at the thought of someone else bearing Daniel’s child. I was sick. Mentally unhinged. Identifying with Glenn Close in
Fatal
Attraction,
even.
Shut up already about Daniel Glass, Janie
! He was off limits! Yes, he’d said flattering things to me, but he had probably done the same with all the other women on his roll call. Men like him were used to getting anything and anyone they wanted.

I put down my phone, took in a deep breath, and sank, defeated, into my seat. Daniel had it all: brains, wealth, sophistication, beauty, talent, the works. I was just his little actress in his eyes. I
had
to get him out of my mind before I drove myself crazy!

I needed to get a grip, get on with my life and seize the opportunities given to me without sinking into marshmallow-brain-land when it came to Daniel.

I started the car and continued my drive. The sun was beating down and I welcomed every second of it. How many actors were given the chance I was being offered? One in a zillion! And there was no way I was going to let my obsession with Daniel spoil my chances.

8

I
WANTED TO HATE CINDY, but I couldn’t. She was friendly and had a fun sense of humor. Blond, busty (LA style busty—we all know what that means), she carried a cute Chihuahua named Ditzy, with a pink, diamante collar. Perfect, manicured nails (both the dog and her owner). A two thousand-dollar purse. The type of woman who was tough enough to have a one-night stand and not let it bother her. The sort who would initiate sex on the first date, have some fun and then move onto the next guy, maybe even negotiating a deal while she was at it, without blinking an eye. She was a warrior, a hustler, a businesswoman who put emotions on the back burner. At least, that’s the impression she gave. I so wanted to ask her directly about Daniel, but when I brought him up, she just said, “He is
quite something
that Daniel Glass and I want him on my
books
! We’ll see.”