What I Did for Love

Chapter 16

Georgie locked herself in Bram’s bathroom and soaked in his tub. She and Chaz had both been betrayed by men-Chaz, much more horribly, on the streets; Georgie on a boat in the middle of Lake Michigan, and later by the husband she’d promised to love forever. Now they were each trying to figure out how to move on. She wondered if Chaz would have told her heart-wrenching story if the camera hadn’t been there? This is important,” Chaz had said when Georgie tried to stop filming. “Make it important.”

Did the camera simply record reality or did it alter it? Could it change the future? Georgie wondered if having her story documented might help Chaz begin putting her past behind her so she could live a fuller life. Wouldn’t that be amazing? And wouldn’t it be even more amazing if recording Chaz’s story helped Georgie put her own life in perspective.

She sank deeper into the water and considered the only part of Chaz’s story that had truly shocked her. Bram’s role. He’d been Georgie’s destroyer, but he’d been Chaz’s rescuer. She kept learning new things about him, and none of it fit with what she thought she already knew. He proudly proclaimed that he cared about no one but himself, but that wasn’t entirely true.

She washed her hair and blew it dry so that it fell straight and shiny around her fuller face. She applied smoky eye makeup and one of her many nude lipsticks, then dressed in cayenne red stretch chinos and a shiny gray cami accompanied by silver ballet flats. With the addition of a pair of abstract silver earrings, she was done.

At the bottom of the stairs, she found Bram pacing the foyer in white pants and shirt. “I thought you were wearing jeans,” she said.

“I changed my mind.”

He took her in, doing his eye-smolder thing, which made her nervous. “You look like Robert Redford in Gatsby,” she said. “Except hunkier. A statement of fact, not a compliment, so no need to thank me.”

“I won’t.” He kept smoldering her, his gaze moving from her silver ballet flats, up over her legs and hips, lingering on her breasts, and ending up at her face. “You look pretty good yourself. Those big green eyes…”

“Bug eyes.”

His smoldering gave way to exasperation. “You don’t have bug eyes, and you should have gotten over your insecurities a long time ago.”

“I’m a realist. Moon face, bug eyes, and rubber mouth, but I’m starting to like my body again, and I’m not getting implants.”

He sighed. “Nobody wants you to get implants, especially me. You don’t have a moon face. And when are you going to stop trying to camouflage your mouth and splash it with some red lipstick? I happen to have an intimate acquaintance with that mouth, and I’m here to tell you it’s spectacular.” He slid the palm of his hand along her hip. “A statement of fact, not a compliment.”

This was getting way too hot for her, so she broke the mood with a friendly suggestion. “If you want Rory to think you’re reformed, maybe you should lay off the booze.”

“Iced tea.”

“Yeah, right.”

She headed for the kitchen to check up on Chaz. Cobalt pottery bowls with red pepper chunks, figs and mangoes, curls of sweet onion, and wedges of fresh pineapple covered the counter. “Make sure you turn the chicken on the grill after four minutes,” Chaz told Aaron, who was arranging glasses on a tray. “No more. Understand?”

“I understood the first two times you told me.”

“Those rosemary sprigs go on top of the beef while it’s cooking.” Ignoring Georgie, she pitched a tomato she’d dropped into the sink. “And baste the scallops with the sweet chili sauce. Remember they dry out fast, so don’t keep them on the heat too long.”

“You should be grilling instead of me,” he said.

“Like I don’t have enough to do?”

Chaz seemed as bad-tempered as ever, which was reassuring. Georgie gave her a break and spoke only to Aaron. “What happened to your hair?”

“I got it cut this afternoon.” Chaz snorted, and he glared at her. “It was taking too long to dry in the morning, that’s all.”

Another snort.

“It looks great.” Georgie observed him more closely. The buttons lined up in a neat row down the front of his dark green shirt with no sign of strain, and his khakis no longer stretched so tightly across his stomach. Aaron was losing weight, and she had a feeling she knew who was responsible.

“Thanks for helping Chaz tonight,” she said as she stole a mushroom from a bowl on the counter. “If she gets too dangerous, use some pepper spray on her.”

“He’d squirt himself in the eye,” Chaz retorted. She was all attitude, but she knew Georgie had witnessed her pain, and she wouldn’t look at her.

Georgie squeezed Aaron’s arm. “Remind me to give you hazardous-duty pay when this is over.”

Meg stuck her head in. She wore a very short chartreuse tunic with blue leopard-pattern leggings and orange ankle boots. A narrow, braided jute headband had replaced the bindi on her forehead. She grinned and spread her arms. “I look fabulous! Admit it.”

She did, although Georgie knew her well enough to understand that Meg didn’t really believe it. She could wear even the most outrageous outfits with the same authority as her former supermodel mother, but she still insisted on seeing herself as an ugly duckling. Even so, Georgie envied Meg’s relationship with her famous parents. Despite the messy complexities between them, they loved each other unconditionally.

The doorbell rang, and by the time Georgie reached the foyer, Bram had let in Trevor. “Mrs. Shepard, I presume.” He handed over a gift basket piled with expensive spa products. “I didn’t want to add to his drinking problem by bringing alcohol.”

“Thank you.”

Bram took a slug of scotch. “I don’t have a drinking problem.”

Laura arrived immediately afterward, slightly breathless, her pale, flyaway hair disheveled, not exactly the portrait of a high-powered Hollywood agent, but that was why Paul had hired her. She tripped coming into the house and blanched as Bram caught her arm. “Sorry,” she said. “I haven’t used these feet all day, and I’ve forgotten how they work.”

Bram smiled. “A common problem.”

“Great news.” Laura pecked Georgie on the cheek. “You have a meeting with Greenberg on Tuesday.” Georgie’s hackles went up, but Laura had already turned to Bram. “This is a beautiful house. Who decorated it for you?”

“I did it myself. Trev Elliott helped.”

He and Laura disappeared toward the veranda leaving Georgie staring after him. Bram had picked out the Oriental rugs and Tibetan throws? The Mexican folk paintings and Balinese bells? And what about all those well-thumbed books lining the dining room shelves?

Her father showed up before she could process this new information. His lips felt frosty on her cheek. “Dad, I need you to be decent to Bram tonight,” she said as she led him through the foyer. “Rory Keene’s invited, and Bram needs her support on a project. No put-downs. I mean it.”

“Maybe I should come back sometime when you don’t feel like you have to lecture me as soon as I walk in the door.”

“Let’s just have fun tonight. Please. It’s important to me for the two of you to get along.”

“You’re talking to the wrong person.”

As he walked away, a wisp of memory tugged at her…Her mother sitting cross-legged on a blanket and laughing at her father, who was running across a patch of grass with Georgie on his back. Had it really happened, or was it something she’d dreamed?

When she reached the veranda, she saw that Bram and her father had taken up posts as far away from each other as possible. Bram was charming Laura while her father listened to Trev’s description of the comedy he was currently shooting. Meg appointed herself bartender, and eventually Paul drifted her way. He’d always liked Meg, something Georgie had never understood, since he should have hated her undisciplined lifestyle. But unlike Georgie, Meg made him laugh.

Georgie was suppressing a pang of jealousy when Rory came up the path from the back. Laura tipped over her wineglass, and her father stopped talking in midsentence. Only Meg and Trev weren’t thrown off by the new addition to the party. Bram would have jumped to his feet if Georgie hadn’t clamped her fingers around his wrist to slow him down. Fortunately, he took her cue and greeted Rory in a more leisurely fashion. “The roses could use a little pruning while you’re out there.”

“Sorry. Plants die if I even look at them.”

“Then let me get you a drink instead.”

Meg began entertaining them with stories of her recent travels. Before long, she had everyone laughing as she described an ill-advised kayaking trip on the Mangde Chhu River. Aaron brought out trays with the ingredients for the do-it-yourself kebabs, and they all gathered around to assemble their own. Rory surprised everyone by kicking off her shoes and volunteering to help with the grilling. By the time they were seated at the table with their wine-glasses refilled and plates piled with food, everyone except Bram and Georgie had relaxed.

Bram made the first move in his campaign to earn Rory’s good opinion. He raised his glass and locked eyes with Georgie at the opposite end of the table. “I’d like to propose a toast to my funny, smart, wonderful wife.” His words were soft and filled with emotion. “A woman with a loving heart, an ability to see beneath the surface”-his voice caught oh-so-touchingly-“and a willingness to forgive.”

Her father frowned. Meg looked bemused, Laura a bit dreamy-eyed. Trev seemed confused, but Rory was impossible to read. Bram smiled at Georgie with a heart full of love.

A heart full of bullshit.

Georgie choked herself up. “Stop it, you big idiot. You’ll make me cry.”

They drank their toast. Laura smiled. “I know I speak for all of us when I say how great it is to see the two of you so happy.”

“We both had some growing up to do,” Bram said with all kinds of sincerity. “Especially me. We’ll be nice and ignore Georgie’s marriage to Mr. Stupid. But we’re finally where we want to be. Not that we still don’t have a few things to work out…”

Georgie braced herself for whatever was coming.

“Georgie only wants two kids,” he said, “but I want more. We’ve had some fairly big arguments about it.”

The man had no shame.

Paul set down his fork and addressed Bram for the first time. “With Georgie barefoot and pregnant, it’ll be tough to support your current lifestyle.” He gave a short laugh, an unconvincing attempt to pass off his comment as a joke.

This was exactly what Bram had warned her would happen, but he merely kicked back in his chair and offered up a lazy grin. “Georgie’s healthy as a horse. They can shoot her from the chest up. Hell, I’ll bet she could have a baby and be back on the job the next day. What do you think, sweetheart?”

“Or I could just squat in the middle of the set and give birth right there.”

Bram winked. “That’s the spirit.”

“The unions wouldn’t put up with it,” Trevor said. “A violation of their labor contract.”

Meg groaned.

Bram had won that round, and her father looked sulky as he turned his attention to his plate. Trev told a funny story about his current costar. They all laughed, but a shadow had crept across Georgie’s heart. She wished Bram hadn’t brought up children. She either had to give up the idea of having a baby or find the courage to go it alone. And why not? Fathers were vastly overrated. She could go to a sperm bank, or…

No. Absolutely not!

For dessert they indulged in a rich lemon cake garnished with a few fresh raspberries and a chocolate curl. Afterward, Bram dragged Chaz out from the kitchen. Everybody complimented her, and she blushed furiously. “I’m glad you…like enjoyed it.” She shot Georgie a glare.

“A great dessert, Chaz,” Georgie said. “A perfect balance between tart and sweet.”

Chaz regarded her suspiciously.

Trev had a 6 a.m. call and left, but the others were in no hurry to end the evening even though the wind had picked up and the air smelled like rain. Bram put on some jazz and engaged Rory in a quiet conversation about Italian cinema. Georgie mentally congratulated him for displaying so much restraint. When Rory excused herself to go to the powder room, Georgie slipped to his side. “You’re doing great. Give her plenty of space when she comes back, so you don’t look desperate.”

“I am desperate. At least-” He stared at her hand as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Where’s your wedding ring?”

She glanced at her bare finger. “I accidentally knocked it down the drain while I was getting dressed. You’re just noticing?”

“You what?”

“It’s cheaper to order another one than pay for a plumber.”

“Since when are you worried about cheap?” He spun toward the guests, speaking calmly, but with an underlying tension. “Excuse me for a few minutes. One of my fans is on his deathbed, poor guy. I promised his wife I’d call him tonight.” And just like that, he disappeared.

She smiled sadly and acted as if deathbed phone calls were all in a day’s work.

Rain began to fall in a gentle spatter that made the candlelit veranda seem even cozier. With all her guests engaged in conversation, Georgie slipped away unnoticed.

She found Bram on his knees, his head stuck under her sink, a plastic bucket and a pipe wrench by his knees. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to rescue your ring,” he said from inside the vanity.

“Why?”

“Because it’s your wedding ring,” he said tightly. “Every woman has a sentimental attachment to her wedding ring.”

“I don’t. You bought mine on eBay for a hundred bucks.”

He pulled his head out. “Who told you that?”

“You did.”

He muttered something, grabbed the monkey wrench, and stuffed his head back inside the vanity.

She was getting a creepy feeling. “You did buy it on eBay, right?”

“Not exactly,” came his muffled reply.

“Then where did you get it?”

“At…this store.”

“What store?”

He poked his head out. “How am I supposed to remember?”

“It was only a month ago!”

“Whatever.” His head disappeared.

“You told me the ring was a fake. It’s a fake, right?”

“Define ‘fake.’” The wrench clanged against a pipe.

“As in, ‘Not genuine.’”

“Oh.”

“Bram?”

Another clang. “It’s not a fake.”

“It’s the real thing?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that from the beginning?”

“Because we have a relationship based on deceit.” He stretched out his hand. “Give me the bucket.”

“I don’t believe this!”

He fumbled for the bucket, his head still inside.

“I would have been more careful!” She thought of all the places she’d left the ring lying around, and she wanted to kick him. “I set it on the diving board when I went swimming yesterday!”

“That’s just stupid.” Water sloshed into the bucket. “Got it!” he said a moment later.

She sank down on the toilet lid and dropped her forehead into her hands. “I’m sick of having a marriage based on deceit.”

He emerged, bringing the bucket with him. “If you think about it, having a marriage based on deceit is all you know anything about. That should be a comfort.”

She leaped up. “I want a fake ring. I liked having a fake ring. Why don’t you ever do what you’re supposed to?”

“Because I can never figure out what that is.” He dropped the sink stopper and began washing off her not-fake ring. “When we get back downstairs, I’m going to pull Rory away. Don’t let anybody interrupt us, okay?”

“Georgie!” Meg called from the bottom of the stairs. “Georgie, you need to come down here. You have a guest.”

How could she have a guest with a guard stationed at the gate?

Bram grabbed her hand and slipped the ring back on. “Let’s be a little more careful this time.”

She stared down at the big stone. “I paid for this, didn’t I?”

“Everybody should have a rich wife.”

She jerked past him and hurried along the hall. Halfway down she stopped.

Her ex-husband stood at the bottom of the stairs.