What I Did For Love Part 39

She gripped her knees tighter. "I don't think I can stomach a cozy meal with the man who fed me to the wolves."

He dug his heels into the sand. "I'll take that as a positive sign that you've wised up about me, and this craziness is behind us."

She snagged a strand of her hair. "Unfortunately, what they say is true. There's a thin line between love and hate."

Something unpleasant twisted in the pit of his stomach. "You don't hate me, Scoot. You've just lost what little respect you'd started to develop." He braced an elbow on his knee and studied the dark clouds skidding across the sky. "We made small-screen magic when you couldn't stand me. No reason we can't transfer that to the big screen."

She tilted her head toward him, her funny green eyes somber. "The deadline's pa.s.sed. Jade has Helene locked up now."

He picked up a beach stone and rubbed it between his fingers. "She's not doing it."

"Oh? And why's that?"

He couldn't postpone this any longer. "Because she was never under consideration."

Georgie sat up straighter. He pitched the stone into the waves. "I lied to you."

She curled her hands into fists.

He couldn't look at her. "I had all kinds of good reasons at the time."

Her mouth twisted bitterly. "You really are a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, aren't you?"

"Exactly! I told you I was!"

Flying sand stung his bare calves as she jumped up. He shot to his feet and went after her. "Think about it, Georgie. Now that I've shown my true colors, nothing is standing in your way. The part is yours, and after what I've done, you can take it without worrying about any messy emotional c.r.a.p getting in your way. You should be glad I lied."

Even as he spoke, he didn't believe a word of it. And neither did she. "I'm going in." She picked up her stride.

He matched her steps. "I'm...pretty sure that guy over there has a camera. We need to make out first."

"Make out with yourself." Her heels kicked up pinwheels of sand. He slid his arm around her shoulder, forcing her to a slower pace.

He might as well have been hugging a cactus.

The picture would get made without her. They'd find another actress, maybe not as good, but adequate. Except everyone wanted Georgie, and his job as a producer was to make the impossible happen. He couldn't let any of them-Rory, Hank, the lowliest crew member-see that he wasn't up to that job.

They reached the house as a crack of lightning broke over the surf. He snagged her wrist, pulling her to a stop just as she was about to climb up to the deck. "Georgie..." He had trouble getting enough air into his lungs. "I'm not quite sure how to tell you this..."

The wind blew another lock of hair over her face. She pushed it back and c.o.c.ked her head. He released her wrist. "I've...missed you these past few weeks. More than I ever thought." Acid churned in his stomach as she continued to stand there, patiently waiting. "Help me out here."

"I don't know what you're trying to say."

"That...I didn't realize how much I'd gotten used to being with you until you left. The two of us...I thought it was just a great friends.h.i.+p, but-I don't know how to say this." An awning cracked in the wind. "I might be...falling for you."

She stared at him.

"Ironic, isn't it. Just when you've gotten over me, now here I am...wis.h.i.+ng you hadn't."

"I don't believe you."

"That lie about Jade. There was something a little desperate about it, right? I guess I didn't want to...admit what I was really feeling."

"What are you really feeling, Bram? You're going to have to spell it out because I'm not getting it."

"You know what I'm saying."

Apparently she'd had enough of his hedging because she turned away and headed up the short flight of stairs.

"It started right here, you know," he called after her. "Not fifteen or sixteen years ago during Skip and Scooter, Skip and Scooter, but right here on Trev's deck three months ago. You and me." She stopped at the top and gazed down at him. He took the steps two at a time to reach her. "Ever since we woke up in the Vegas hotel room, we've been on this crazy Ferris wheel ride." A gust of wind blew a newspaper across the deck. "I kept thinking you were the best friend I've ever had, but now I know it's more than friends.h.i.+p." but right here on Trev's deck three months ago. You and me." She stopped at the top and gazed down at him. He took the steps two at a time to reach her. "Ever since we woke up in the Vegas hotel room, we've been on this crazy Ferris wheel ride." A gust of wind blew a newspaper across the deck. "I kept thinking you were the best friend I've ever had, but now I know it's more than friends.h.i.+p."

"It's s.e.x."

He felt a flash of anger. "Sure, it's s.e.x, but that's not all. We don't have to put on false faces for each other. We...understand each other." He rushed on, forcing out the next part even as he hated himself for what he was about to say. "I've even been thinking-Just thinking. Your idea about"-a giant fist squeezed his chest-"about having a baby." She made a soft, indecipherable sound. He plowed on. "I'm a long way from saying let's go for it. I'm just saying that...Just that I'm ready to at least talk about it."

She was swallowing his face with her eyes, and he wanted to yell at her, to tell her he was a liar and not to be so d.a.m.ned gullible. Instead, he set aside whatever shreds of honor he had left and went for the big f.u.c.king finish. "I'm...falling in love with you, Georgie. For real."

She pressed her fingertips to her lips. A boom of thunder shook the deck. "For real?" she whispered.

Pebble-sharp raindrops stung his face, and he nodded.

She didn't do anything. She simply stood there. And then she said his name. "Bram..." Opening her arms, she threw herself at him. She wrapped herself around his chest, slid her legs between his, and he wanted to howl at the harm he'd done...right until the moment she jerked up her knee and slammed him in the nuts. Through his agonizing wheeze of pain, he heard two words.

"You b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

The roar of the wind...The stomp of bare feet across the deck...The slam of the door as she disappeared inside...And the sound of his own wrenching gasps. He clutched the edge of a stone and tried not to pa.s.s out. The door opened again and his car keys flew by, over the deck rail and into the sand.

The storm broke.

Georgie stood inside the locked door, clutching herself to keep her insides from boiling through her skin. The rain slashed at the windows, slashed at her. Bram hadn't changed. He was a user, as manipulative as ever, pretending to offer what she most yearned for in order to get what he coveted for himself. the locked door, clutching herself to keep her insides from boiling through her skin. The rain slashed at the windows, slashed at her. Bram hadn't changed. He was a user, as manipulative as ever, pretending to offer what she most yearned for in order to get what he coveted for himself.

The storm raged outside; a fiercer storm raged inside.

Her sham of a marriage was over, and there'd be no friendly divorce. No Bruce and Demi. This public humiliation would be so much worse than the first time. And she didn't care. Her years of posing and posturing had ended. She'd never be s.p.u.n.ky Scooter Brown, the girl who could bounce back from any adversity with a smile and a wisecrack. She was a real woman who'd been betrayed.

And this time she'd have her revenge.

Once Bram was able to move again, he staggered down to the sand and threw himself in the ocean. Oblivious to the angry waves and dark undertow, he prayed for the water to wash away his sins. He dove under a wave, came up, and dove under again. All his life he'd hustled and manipulated, but he'd never done anything as wicked as what he'd just tried to put over on the person who least deserved it. able to move again, he staggered down to the sand and threw himself in the ocean. Oblivious to the angry waves and dark undertow, he prayed for the water to wash away his sins. He dove under a wave, came up, and dove under again. All his life he'd hustled and manipulated, but he'd never done anything as wicked as what he'd just tried to put over on the person who least deserved it.

He saw the wave right before it hit him, a looming tower of water. It crashed on top of him and flipped him over. He twisted, pitched, floated for an instant, then flipped again. Sand sc.r.a.ped his elbow, then something sharp bit into his leg. He lost his bearings. His lungs burned. The current caught him and pulled him-up, down, he didn't know-the selfish current, following its own course without sparing a thought for its victim.

He broke through the surface, glimpsed the sh.o.r.e, then got sucked beneath again by the undertow. She'd become his conscience, his mistress, his guardian angel, his best friend. She'd become his love.

His body shot toward the light-a s.h.i.+mmering glow visible only in his head. He gasped for air, went under, plunged to the bottom. He loved her.

The current caught him and tossed him again, a useless sc.r.a.p of human flotsam whose life's mission had been to please only himself.

The image of her face came to him, swept him up, seized him, and dragged him until his feet touched bottom. His elbow was bleeding, his leg, his heart. He staggered to sh.o.r.e and collapsed in the sand.

Chapter 26.

She'd locked the doors against him. He felt as if his skin had peeled off, the beautiful facade he'd hidden behind ripped away to reveal all the ugliness beneath. He stumbled back to the beach, pulling off his sodden T-s.h.i.+rt and pressing it to his b.l.o.o.d.y elbow. He located his car keys in the sand, but Trev's house key had been on a separate ring and was nowhere to be found. After a last futile attempt to get Georgie to answer the door, he gave up. locked the doors against him. He felt as if his skin had peeled off, the beautiful facade he'd hidden behind ripped away to reveal all the ugliness beneath. He stumbled back to the beach, pulling off his sodden T-s.h.i.+rt and pressing it to his b.l.o.o.d.y elbow. He located his car keys in the sand, but Trev's house key had been on a separate ring and was nowhere to be found. After a last futile attempt to get Georgie to answer the door, he gave up.

The paps had disappeared. s.h.i.+vering and bleeding, he made his way to his car and started the long drive back home through the storm. He couldn't imagine how he'd be able to make her understand what had just happened. She'd never believe him. And why should she? He'd even turned her desire for a baby into a bargaining chip.

The full extent of this disaster he'd brought on himself made it hard to breathe. What the h.e.l.l had he done, and how was he going to fix it? Not with another phone message, that was for sure.

But after he got home, he couldn't stop himself, and when her voice mail picked up, he let it all spill out. "Georgie, I love you. Not the way I said earlier, but really. I know it doesn't seem that way, but I didn't understand like I do now..." He rambled on, mixing up his words, his thoughts, trying to get it all out and failing miserably, knowing he'd only made everything worse.

Georgie listened to every syllable of his message, every lie. The words burned into her flesh, leaving bleeding tattoos behind. Her fury was boundless. She would make him pay. He'd taken away what she wanted most, and now she'd do the same to him. to every syllable of his message, every lie. The words burned into her flesh, leaving bleeding tattoos behind. Her fury was boundless. She would make him pay. He'd taken away what she wanted most, and now she'd do the same to him.

That evening, after Bram was cleaned up and more clearheaded, he drove back to Malibu. The paps must have believed he was still at the beach because no SUVs loitered at the end of his driveway. He'd decided to break down the door if she wouldn't let him in the house, although he doubted that would soften her heart. Along the way, he bought her flowers, as if a couple dozen roses would make a difference, then stopped to pick up mangoes because he remembered she liked them. He also bought her a snow-white teddy bear holding a red heart in its paws, but as he left the store, he realized that was the kind of thing junior high kids did, and he stuffed it in the trash. Bram was cleaned up and more clearheaded, he drove back to Malibu. The paps must have believed he was still at the beach because no SUVs loitered at the end of his driveway. He'd decided to break down the door if she wouldn't let him in the house, although he doubted that would soften her heart. Along the way, he bought her flowers, as if a couple dozen roses would make a difference, then stopped to pick up mangoes because he remembered she liked them. He also bought her a snow-white teddy bear holding a red heart in its paws, but as he left the store, he realized that was the kind of thing junior high kids did, and he stuffed it in the trash.

As it turned out, the house was dark and her car missing from the garage. He waited around for a while, hoping she'd come back, suspecting she wouldn't. Eventually he headed for Santa Monica, his car still full of flowers and mangoes.

When he arrived at Paul's town house, he futilely scanned the street for Georgie's car. The last person he wanted to face was his father-in-law, and he thought about turning around, but Paul was his best shot at getting to Georgie.

He hadn't seen him since the night of the wedding party, and the visible hostility on his face as he answered the door eradicated any hope Bram might have been harboring that Paul would help him out. Paul's lips thinned as he gave Bram the once-over. "The golden boy looks a little under the weather."

"Yeah, well, it's been a rainy day. A rainy month."

He waited for the door to slam in his face and was stunned when Paul let him in. "Want a drink?"

Bram wanted a drink too much, a sure sign that he couldn't risk having one. "You got any coffee?"

"I'll dig some up."

As Bram followed Paul into the kitchen, he couldn't figure out what to do with his hands. They felt too big for his body, as if they didn't belong to him. "Have you seen Georgie?" he finally managed.

"You're her husband. You're supposed to keep track of her."

"Yeah, well..."

Paul turned on the water faucet. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm guessing you already know."

"Tell me anyway."

And Bram did. While the coffee brewed, he began by telling Paul about Las Vegas, only to learn that Georgie had already filled him in.

"I also know Georgie went to Mexico because she thought she was getting too attached to you." Paul pulled a bright orange mug from the cupboard.

"Believe me," Bram said bitterly, "that's not a problem now. What else did she tell you?"

"I know about the audition tape, and I know she turned the part down."

"It's crazy, Paul. She was amazing." He rubbed his eyes. "We've all underestimated her. We fell into the same trap as the public, only wanting her to play variations of Scooter. I'll send you a copy of the tape so you can see for yourself."

"If Georgie wants me to see it, she'll let me know."

"It must be nice to have the luxury of being n.o.ble."

"You should try it sometime." Paul filled the mug and pa.s.sed it over. "Tell me the rest."

Bram described his visit from Rory and everyone's reaction to Georgie's withdrawal. "They know I'm responsible, they want her in the film, and they expect me to fix this."

"Not a good position for a new producer to be in."

He couldn't contain himself. He began pacing the kitchen, making awkward ovals as he told Paul the rest-his trip to Mexico, the lie about Jade, and then the worst, what he'd said to her today. He let it spill out, omitting only the detail about the baby, not because he was trying to protect himself-he was long past that-but because Georgie's desire for a child was her own secret to reveal.

"So let me get this straight," Paul said, an ominous note in his voice. "You lied to my daughter about Jade. Then you tried to manipulate her by pretending you were in love with her. After she threw you out, you magically realized you really do love her, and now you want me to help you convince her of that."

Bram slumped onto a bar stool at the counter. "I'm so f.u.c.ked."

"I'd say."

"Do you know where she is?"

"Yes, and I'm not telling you."

He hadn't really expected it. "Will you at least tell her...? s.h.i.+t. Tell her I'm sorry. Tell her...Ask her to talk to me."

"I'm not asking her for a d.a.m.n thing. You created this mess. You can d.a.m.n well fix it."

But how? This wasn't a misunderstanding that could be patched up with roses, mangoes, or a diamond bracelet. It wasn't a simple lovers' quarrel that a few words of apology could repair. If he wanted his wife back, he'd have to do something much more convincing, and he didn't have a clue what that could be.