What I Did for Love

Chapter 9

Georgie waited until the next morning when she heard Bram go into the workout room. She headed for the dining room, grabbed the key she’d seen him toss into a brass dish on the bookshelves, and made her way out to his office in the guesthouse. She still couldn’t get used to Bram having an office instead of conducting his business from a bar stool.

As she moved along the gravel path, she thought about how different Bram’s sexual aggression was from what she’d experienced with Lance. Her ex-husband had wanted her to be the seductress, and that’s exactly what she’d tried to do. She’d read a dozen sex manuals and bought the most erotic lingerie she could find, no matter how much it pinched. She’d performed stripteases that left her feeling stupid, whispered male fantasies in his ear that turned her off, and tried to find inventive lovemaking locales to keep things fresh. He’d seemed appreciative and always said he was satisfied, but obviously she’d come up short or he wouldn’t have left her for Jade Gentry.

She’d worked too hard to have failed so miserably. Sex might be easy for some women, but it was complicated for her, and just thinking about the quandary she found herself in with Bram made her queasy. Bram wasn’t going to give up sex. He’d either have it with her or with someone else. Maybe both.

She’d promised herself she’d face her problems head-on, but they’d only been married five days, and she needed some time to figure this one out.

She unlocked his office and turned on his computer. As she waited for it to boot up, she began searching his bookshelves. She had to know right now whether the reunion show was a figment of Bram’s imagination or something more tangible.

She found a diverse book collection and an eclectic pile of scripts, but none of them for a Skip and Scooter reunion show. She spotted assorted DVDs ranging from Raging Bull to something called Sex Trek: The Next Penetration. His file cabinets were locked, but not his desk, and that’s where she discovered a manuscript box under a bottle of scotch. It was taped shut. The label read skip and scooter: the reunion.

She was stunned. She’d hoped Bram had made this up to needle her. He knew doing a reunion movie would be a huge career setback for her, so why did he think he could convince her to go along with it?

She didn’t like the only answer she could come up with. Blackmail. He might threaten to walk out on their marriage if she didn’t go along with the project. But dumping her would put a stop to the money train, as well as making him look like an ass, although he might not care about that. Still…She remembered the way he’d behaved around Rory Keene. Maybe he cared more about his image than he’d led her to believe.

“What are you doing in here?”

Her head shot up, and she saw Chaz standing in the doorway looking like the love child of Martha Stewart and Joey Ramone. Her housekeeper’s uniform for the day consisted of holey jeans, olive tank top, and black flip-flops. Georgie pushed the drawer closed with her foot. Since she couldn’t conjure up a reasonable explanation, she decided to turn the tables. “Better question-what are you doing?”

Chaz’s dark-rimmed eyes narrowed with hostility. “Bram doesn’t like strangers in his office. You shouldn’t be here.”

“I’m not a stranger. I’m his wife.” Words she’d never expected to hear coming out of her mouth.

“He doesn’t even let the cleaning people in here.” Chaz lifted her chin. “I’m the only one.”

“You’re very loyal. What’s that about, anyway?”

She pulled a broom from a small closet. “It’s my job.”

Georgie couldn’t snoop through his computer files now, so she began to leave, but as she got up, she spotted a video camera sitting on the corner of the desk. Chaz began to sweep the floor. Georgie examined the camera long enough to discover that Bram had erased whatever tawdry sexual encounter he’d last filmed.

Chaz stopped sweeping. “Don’t mess with that.”

Georgie impulsively turned the camera on Chaz and hit the record button. “Why do you care so much?”

Chaz pulled the broom handle to her chest. “What are you doing?”

“I’m curious about your loyalty.”

“Turn that off.”

Georgie brought her into sharper focus. Beneath the piercings and scowl, Chaz had delicate, almost fragile, features. She’d pulled one side of her chopped hair away from her eyes with a small silver barrette, and the other side stood out in a spiky tuft above her ear. Chaz’s hostile independence fascinated Georgie. She couldn’t imagine having that kind of freedom from caring what other people thought. “I guess you’re the only person in L.A. who doesn’t love a camera,” Georgie said. “No ambitions to be an actress? That’s why most girls come here.”

“Me? No. And how do you know I haven’t always lived here?”

“Just a feeling.” Through the viewer, Georgie could see tension tightening the corners of Chaz’s small mouth. “Most twenty-year-olds would be bored with a job like yours.”

Chaz gripped the broom tighter, almost as if it were a weapon. “I like my job. You probably think housework isn’t important.”

Georgie quoted her father. “I think a job is what a person makes of it.”

The camera had subtly altered the relationship between them, and for the first time since they’d met, Chaz looked uncertain. “People should do what they’re good at,” she finally said. “I’m good at this.” She tried to return to sweeping, but the camera was clearly bothering her. “Turn that thing off.”

“How did it happen?” Georgie edged around the corner of the desk to keep her in the frame. “How did you learn to run a house at such a young age?”

Chaz jabbed at a corner. “Just something I did.” Georgie waited, and to her surprise, Chaz went on. “My stepmom worked at a motel outside Barstow. Twelve units with a diner. Are you going to turn that off?”

“In a minute.” The camera made some people clam up and others talk. Apparently Chaz was one of the latter. Georgie took another step to the side. “You worked there?”

“Sometimes. She liked to party, and she didn’t always get home in time to go to work the next day. When that happened, I skipped school and went in for her.”

Georgie zoomed in on the girl’s face, taking advantage of having the upper hand. “How old were you?”

“I don’t know. Eleven or something.” She went over the same place she’d just swept. “The guy who owned the place didn’t care how old I was as long as the work got done, and I did a better job than her.”

The camera recorded facts. It didn’t offer an opinion about an eleven-year-old doing manual labor. “How did you feel about missing school?” The low-battery light came on.

Chaz shrugged. “We needed the money.”

“The work must have been hard.”

“There were good parts.”

“Like what?”

Chaz continued poking at the same spot on the floor. “I don’t know.” She leaned the broom against the wall and picked up a dust rag.

Georgie gave her a gentle prod. “I can’t imagine there were too many good parts.”

Chaz slid the rag over a bookshelf. “Sometimes a family checked into a room with a couple of kids. Maybe they’d order pizza or bring burgers back from the diner, and the kids might spill something on the rug. The place would be a big mess.” She concentrated on dusting the same book. “Trash and food everywhere. Sheets on the floor. All the towels used up. But by the time I left, everything would be neat again.” Her shoulder blades slammed together and she threw down the rag. “This is bullshit. I’ve got work to do. I’ll come back when you’re out of here.” She stalked away just as the camera ran out of power.

Georgie released the breath she’d been holding. Chaz would never have told her so much without the presence of the camera. As she pulled out the tape and slipped it in her pocket, she felt the same kind of rush she used to experience after she’d nailed a challenging acting scene.

That night, she found the world’s most disgusting sandwich waiting for her: a towering monstrosity constructed with slabs of bread, thick wedges of meat, rivers of mayo, and half a dozen slices of cheese. She pulled it apart, fixed herself a simpler sandwich, and ate alone on the veranda. She didn’t see Bram for the rest of the evening.

The next day Aaron handed over the new issue of Flash. One of Mel Duffy’s balcony photos graced the cover along with blaring headlines:

The Marriage That Shocked the World!

Exclusive Photos of Skip and Scooter’s Honeymoon Bliss

In the picture, Bram held her in his arms, her gauzy white skirt draping his sleeves, the two of them gazing deeply into each other’s eyes. Her wedding photo with Lance had appeared on this same cover, but the genuine newlyweds hadn’t looked nearly as love-dazzled as these phony ones.

She should have felt good. There were no pity headlines, only rapturous copy.

Georgie York’s fans were stunned by her shocking Las Vegas elopement with former Skip and Scooter costar, bad boy Bramwell Shepard. “They’ve been secretly dating for months,” Georgie’s BFF April Robillard Patriot said. “They’re delirious with happiness, and we’re all overjoyed.”

Georgie sent a silent thank-you April’s way and skimmed the rest of the article.

…publicist dismisses stories of a bitter feud between the Skip and Scooter costars. “They were never enemies. Bram cleaned up his act a long time ago.”

What a lie.

Friends say the couple has a lot in common…

Other than mutual hatred, Georgie couldn’t think of a thing, and she tossed the magazine aside.

With nothing productive to do, she wandered into the living room and picked some dead leaves off the lemon tree. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bram go into the kitchen, probably for a refill. She didn’t want him to think she was deliberately avoiding him, even though she was, so she pulled her cell from her pocket and called him. “You won this house in a poker game, didn’t you? It explains so much.”

“Like?”

“Great decorating, beautiful landscaping, books with words and not just pictures. But, never mind…Skip and Scooter need to make another public appearance today. How about a coffee run?”

“Okay with me.” He wandered into the dining room, his phone cupped to his ear. He wore jeans and a vintage Nirvana T-shirt. “Why are you calling me as opposed to talking to me directly?”

She switched her own phone to the other ear. “I’ve decided we communicate better from a distance.”

“Since when? Oh, I remember. Since two nights ago when I kissed you on the beach.” He leaned against the doorframe and eye-smoldered her. “I can tell by the way you’ve been looking at me. I turn you on, and that scares the hell out of you.”

“You’re gorgeous, and I can be something of a slut, so how could I help myself?” She cradled the phone closer to her ear. “Fortunately, your personality totally cancels out the effect. The reason I’m calling you-”

“Instead of walking across the room and talking to me face-to-face…”

“-is because this is a business relationship, and-”

“Since when is a marriage a business relationship?”

That made her mad, and she flipped her phone shut. “Since you conned me into paying you fifty thousand dollars a month.”

“Good point.” He pocketed his own phone and wandered toward her. “I hear the Loser didn’t give you a penny in the divorce.”

Georgie could have gotten millions in guilt money from Lance, but for what? She hadn’t wanted his money. She’d wanted him. “Who needs more money? Oops…You do.”

“I have some calls to make,” he said. “Give me half an hour.” He reached into the pocket of his jeans. “One more thing…” He pitched a ring box toward her. “I bought it for a hundred bucks on eBay. You’ve got to admit, it looks like the real thing.”

She flipped open the box and saw a three-carat cushion-cut diamond. “Wow. A fake diamond to go with a fake husband. Works for me.” She slipped it on.

“That’s a bigger stone than the ring you got from the Loser, the cheap bastard.”

“Except his was real.”

“Like his wedding vows?”

Some self-delusional part of her still wanted to believe the best of the man who’d left her, but she suppressed the urge to leap to Lance’s defense. “I’ll treasure it always,” she drawled as she slipped past him and went upstairs.

She consulted April’s three-ring binder and chose cotton poplin pants and a ruched, moss green top with small puffy sleeves. She added Tory Burch ballet flats but bypassed the three-thousand-dollar designer purse April recommended. Fans didn’t realize those obscenely expensive purses their favorite celebrities carted around so carelessly were freebies, and Georgie had gotten fed up with being part of the conspiracy to make ordinary women overspend on an “it” bag that would be replaced by another “it” bag before their credit cards came due. Instead, she dug out a funky fabric purse Sasha had given her last year.

She did her hair, fixed her makeup, and had to choke back her resentment when she went downstairs and saw Bram standing in the foyer wearing exactly the same jeans and Nirvana T-shirt he’d had on earlier. As far as she could see, he hadn’t done one thing to get ready for the photographers, and even more aggravating, he hadn’t needed to do anything. His beard stubble was as photo worthy as his crisp, rumpled hair. Another sign of Hollywood’s conspiracy against its female celebrities.

He fingered the card tucked into an extravagant flower arrangement sitting on the credenza. “How did you and Rory Keene get to be such buddies?”

“Is that from her?”

“She wishes us the best. Correct me if I’m wrong, but she seems to take a special interest in you.”

“I barely know her.” That was true, although Rory had once phoned Georgie to suggest she avoid signing onto a certain project. Georgie had taken her advice, and sure enough, the film had run into money problems and shut down halfway through. Since Vortex hadn’t been involved, and Rory didn’t have anything to gain from the tip, Georgie had been puzzled by her interest. “I guess she feels some kind of connection with me because of the year she spent working as a P.A. on Skip and Scooter.”

Bram flicked the card back down on the credenza. “She doesn’t feel any connection with me.”

“I was nice to her.” Georgie barely remembered Rory from those days, but she did remember Bram’s habit of making life hard for the crew.

“Lowly P.A. to the head of Vortex Studios in fourteen years,” he said. “Who’d have guessed?”

“Apparently, not you.” She gave him her most annoying smile. “Payback’s a bitch.”

“I guess.” He slipped on a pair of devastatingly sexy aviators. “Let’s go show off your ring to the American public.”

They posed for the paps outside the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf on Beverly Boulevard. Bram kissed her hair and smiled at the photographers. “Isn’t she beautiful? I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

After her hellish year of public humiliation, his words of phony adoration felt like balm to her bruised soul. How pathetic was that? She stepped on his foot to retaliate.

Chaz was coming back to the house from cleaning Bram’s office when she saw Georgie’s lardo assistant standing by the swimming pool, gazing down into the water. She marched over to him. “You’re not supposed to be out here.”

He blinked behind his glasses. The guy was a mess. Wiry brown hair exploded from his head, and whoever had picked out those big nerd glasses must have been blind. He dressed like a fat sixty-year-old man with his stomach hanging out over his belt and a checked sports shirt that pulled at the buttons.

“Okay.” He stepped around her to go back to the house.

She brushed off her hands. “What were you doing anyway?”

He shoved his fists in his pockets, adding to the bulk at his hips. “Taking a break.”

“From what? You’ve got an easy job.”

“Sometimes. It’s a little busy now.”

“Yeah, it looks like you’re real busy.”

He didn’t tell her to fuck off, which she deserved for being so rude, but she hated having all these people running around her house. And that whole thing yesterday in Bram’s office with Georgie and the camera had thrown her off. She should have walked right out, but…

She tried to make up for being a bitch. “Bram probably wouldn’t mind if you used the pool once in a while, as long as you don’t do it too much.”

“I don’t have time to swim.” He pulled his hands from his pockets and walked away from her toward the house.

She didn’t swim anymore, either, but she’d loved the water when she was a kid. He was probably embarrassed about the way he looked in a suit. Or maybe only women felt that way.

“It’s private back here,” she called out. “Nobody would see you.”

He went into the house without answering her.

She retrieved the net from behind the waterfall rocks and began to skim for leaves. Bram had a pool service, but she liked making the water all clean and smooth. Bram told her she could swim whenever she wanted, but she never did.

She tossed down the net. Until Monday, she’d been so happy here, but now, with all these strangers invading her space, the bad feelings were coming back.

Half an hour later, she entered Georgie’s upstairs office. A big, kidney-shaped desk, matching wall unit, and a couple of streamlined chairs upholstered in spice-colored fabric printed with a tree branch design made up the new furnishings. Everything was too modern for the house, and she didn’t like it.

Aaron had his back to her, talking on the phone. “Ms. York isn’t giving interviews yet, but I’m sure she’d be more than happy to contribute to your charity auction…No, she’s already donated her Skip and Scooter scripts to the Museum of Broadcast Communications, but every year she designs some Christmas ornaments for groups like yours, and each one is personally autographed…”

He sounded like a different person on the phone, sure of himself and not so geeky. She set a turkey wrap on the desk. She’d made it with a fat-free tortilla, lean meat, sliced tomato, a few spinach leaves, a sliver of avocado, and carrot sticks on the side. Dude needed to get a clue.

He took in the wrap as he finished his conversation. When he hung up, she said, “Don’t count on this every day.” She picked up the new issue of Flash with Bram and Georgie on the cover and sat on the corner of his desk to thumb through it. “Go ahead and eat.”

He picked up the turkey wrap and took a bite. “You got any mayo?”

“No.” She carried a perfume sample to her nose and sniffed. “How old are you?”

He had good manners and he swallowed before he answered. “Twenty-six.”

Six years older than her, but he seemed younger. “Did you go to college?”

“University of Kansas.”

“A lot of people who go to college don’t know shit.” She studied his face and decided somebody had to tell him. “Your glasses are lame. No offense.”

“What’s wrong with them?”

“They’re ugly. You should get contacts or something.”

“Contacts are too much trouble.”

“You have nice eyes. You should show them off. At least get decent frames.” His eyes were bright blue and thick-lashed, the only decent thing about him.

He frowned, which made his cheeks look as though they were swallowing the rest of his face. “I don’t think a person with holes in her eyebrows has room to criticize anybody else.”

She loved her pierced eyebrows. They made her feel tough, like a rebel who didn’t give a damn about society. “I really care what you think.”

He turned back to his computer and pulled up some kind of graph-thing. She rose to leave, but on her way out, she spotted his big ugly briefcase lying open on the floor with a bag of chips inside. She went over and pulled it out.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

“You don’t need these. I’ll bring you some fruit later.”

He pushed himself up from his chair. “Give those back. I don’t want your fruit.”

“You want this junk instead?”

“Yeah, I want it.”

“Too bad.” She dropped the chips to the floor and brought her foot down hard on the bag. It split open with a loud pop. “There you are.”

He stared at her. “What’s your problem, anyway?”

“I’m a bitch.” As she left the office and went back downstairs, she could almost see him reaching for those smashed chips.

Bram kept disappearing into his office, as if he had a real job, leaving Georgie no way to work off her frustration. She eventually wandered up to his exercise room and began going through the ballet warm-up routine she used to do every day. Her muscles were stiff and uncooperative, but she kept at it. Maybe she’d have a barre installed. She’d always loved to dance, and she knew she shouldn’t have let herself set it aside. The same with singing. She wasn’t a great singer. The big, belting Broadway voice that had made her so winning as a kid hadn’t matured with age, but she could carry a tune, and her energy made up for what she lacked in vocal nuance.

After her workout, she talked to Sasha and April on the phone and did some online shopping. Her daily routine had been whittled down to bothering her busy friends and making sure she looked good enough to be photographed. She cheered herself up by following Chaz around with the video camera and asking intrusive questions.

Chaz complained bitterly, but that didn’t stop her from talking, and Georgie learned a little more. Her growing fascination with Bram’s housekeeper was all that kept her from bringing in her own cook.

On Friday morning, day seven of her marriage, she and Bram met with a party planner, the stridently officious, very expensive, and highly recommended Poppy Patterson. Everything about the woman grated, but she loved the idea of a Skip and Scooter theme, so they hired her and told her to work out the details with Aaron.

That afternoon, her father decided he’d punished her long enough and finally took her phone call. “Georgie, I understand you want me to put my stamp of approval on your marriage, but I can’t do it when I know how wrong it is.”

She wouldn’t tell him the truth, but she also wouldn’t lie more than she already had. “I just thought we could have a nice conversation. Is that too much to ask?”

“Right now? Yes. I don’t like Shepard, I don’t trust him, and I’m worried about you.”

“There’s nothing to worry about. Bram isn’t…He isn’t exactly like you remember.” She struggled to conjure up a convincing example of Bram’s greater maturity, at the same time trying not to think about his drinking. “He’s…older now.”

Her father wasn’t impressed. “Remember this, Georgie. If he ever tries to hurt you in any way, promise you’ll come to me for help.”

“You make it sound like he’s going to beat me.”

“There are different kinds of hurt. You’ve never been rational about him.”

“That was a long time ago. We’re not the same people.”

“I have to go. We’ll talk later.” Just like that, he hung up.

She bit her lip, and her eyes stung. Her father loved her-surely he did-but it wasn’t the cozy kind of dad love she wanted. A love that didn’t have any strings attached to it. A love she didn’t have to work so hard to deserve.