Playing for Keeps (16 page)

That was what Marshall had done best. That was why he always won and seeing that reality played out before her made Stacy’s insides shrivel. She remembered how the scene mirrored one of her own. The time when they'd just moved into the grand house he'd always wanted. She had dreaded this scene and watching it had been worse. The studio was a perfect replica of what her living room had looked like. She'd returned home from having a great lunch with Julia, after an awards ceremony, only to find Marshall in a lip lock with another woman.

She stood frozen, wondering why she was always the villain. He'd lied to her so many times, she could no longer tell the lies from the truth. Chance played him so well--too well. She could see why the judge had made her pay him alimony. She'd written him as the antagonist, but Chance showed him as an anti-hero. The woman who played Shiree held her own against him, but she could also see clearly their need for each other. How they fed each other's weakness and desires.

"What are you doing?" Shiree said standing in the doorway. Aptly depicting the shock Stacy had felt.

"I'm just helping her with a role," he said, his female companion disappearing into the corner of the room.

"Am I supposed to believe that?"

Melvin threw the script at her. "I wish I knew I'd married such a damn prude."

Shiree lifted up the script and saw the screen described as what she'd seen.

"That wasn't just a kiss."

"When will you learn to trust me?"

"I do, but--"

"Then show it." He stood and moved closer to her and lightly touched a strand of hair. "You're the only woman who's ever understood me," he said like a dejected Apollo.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice filled with guilt. She wrapped her arms around him.

Melvin hugged her, but behind her back his mouth spread into a self-satisfied smile. Stacy hadn't written that. Chance had embodied the character so much, the action was improvised, but it worked.

"Cut! Brilliant. I'm going to do a close up of that expression, it adds an extra dimension."

"Is it just me or is it hot?" Chance said.

Melody teased. "You are too good. One moment I want to slap you and the next I want to rip your clothes off."

He lifted a brow. "As long as you're gentle."

"If I wasn't married..." She fanned herself. "My husband's going to be a happy man tonight."

He laughed.

No, she didn't want to hate him, but at that moment she did. Stacy turned to leave.

"Stacy!" Chance said coming up to her. "Meet me in ten," he said then kissed her cheek and disappeared.

She just wanted to be away from him right now, but he looked so pleased with himself and he had done a great job, she couldn't abandon him. Ten minutes later, Stacy walked up to him in his dressing room and saw that he'd washed his makeup off. He looked like Chance again.

"I just--"

He put a finger to his lips, sat down and pulled her onto his lap.

"What are you--?"

He put his finger to his lips again. Then gently pressed her head down onto his shoulder.

She rested her head, not sure what he was up to. Then felt her tension release as she let the memory of the scene dissipate. She lifted her head and looked at him. His eyes half closed.

'Can I talk now?' she mouthed.

He smiled and shook his head. Then pressed her head down and held her close. She sighed with frustration. Before she could respond he said, "You look tired."

It surprised Stacy how comforting it felt to be in his arms, to feel the deep vibration of his voice, to feel safe with him. She felt the building of tears. She felt humiliated that she'd been so used. But he made her forget Marshall. This moment had never happened between them. He never cared about her feelings, what kind of day she'd had. Everything had always been about him.

"I don't know how you do it," Stacy said.

"What?"

"Switch so quickly between roles."

He shrugged. "I like being myself more than anyone else. Especially someone like Melvin. He's exhausting."

"Exhausting?"

"He wears so many masks and feeds off of people."

Stacy lifted her head and looked around as if searching for something. "Where is it?"

"What?"

"Your ego? I can't seem to find it."

Chance laughed. "Trust me, it's there."

"But aren't you waiting for me to tell you how great you were?"

"No."

"But didn't you get into acting to hear the sound of applause, to be the center of attention, to receive praise?"

"Those are all nice and I'm not going to say I don't enjoy them, but what I love most about acting are the stories I get to tell. I'm part of a unit and my job is to disappear into someone else so that you don't see me. I want to make you feel. When I was young, I loved how movies made me feel and I wanted to do that for others. Seeing the look on your face was enough for me. But now that it's over, I don't want you to think of Melvin or Marshall. I want you to think of me. Is that enough of an ego for you?"

"You're very grounded for an actor."

He shrugged. "I don't have the luxury or interest to get into the traps of the artistic temperament associated with my field. You're a writer, you've seen it. The depression, the drugs, the sex. It has its place, but I like to keep the drama at a distance. Leading a normal life helps me fuel my work."

It made sense. Maybe because Marshall had lived a life filled with drama he had nothing to give. He had such changeable moods.

She playfully squeezed his chin. "You look tired too."

He smiled. "But I'm happy." He lifted her up and stood, then set her back down on the seat and started to change. "What do you want for lunch? My treat," he said before she could argue.

"Anything."

"I think I can handle that."

"Oh, and tonight let's watch a movie. A good horror film."

Chance shook his head. "Sorry, I don't do horror movies. I hate being scared."

Stacy looked at him for a moment, wondering if he were joking. "Seriously?"

"Yes, I grew up with a mean SOB of a stepfather who loved violence and terrified me most days. I know what fear's really like. I used to make it my job to stop my brother and sister from crying." He grinned, looking a little sheepish as if he'd revealed too much. "I started acting early."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It's just a sore spot for me. Growing up I loved action, adventure and comedy. They let me escape."

Stacy shivered, not fooled by his casual tone, the pain of his childhood briefly dimming the light in his eyes. Her own upbringing had been relatively drama-free, except for the various troubles her brother got into, but her parents always bailed him out. Chance's revelation helped get her warring emotions back in order. He wasn't Marshall. She was safe with him. "Okay, how about a comedy?"

He looked a little sheepish. "I'd wanted to see the recent film by Heisman."

Stacy stared at him stunned. Heisman wasn't known for blockbusters, but experimental, independent films. "You're a fan?"

"I've watched every film he's ever made. The man is amazing."

Her mouth curved into a teasing smile. "Sounds like someone has a serious guy crush."

Chance held up his hands. "Guilty. I watched my first Heisman movie at twelve. A sci-fi thriller. I enjoy acting, but eventually I picture myself behind the camera too."

"You've already done some short films through your company."

"But one day I want to do something bigger."

"Okay, we'll see a Heisman film."

Chance lowered his head, licked his lip and pumped his fist. "Yes," he said like a happy little kid who'd just gotten his favorite ice cream flavor.

Again, something about his action reminded her of someone, but then quickly vanished. She shook herself. Why couldn't she remember who?

Chance held out his jacket. "If you're chilly, put this on."

She wasn't cold, but liked the thought of wearing his jacket. Stacy put her hands in the pockets. She paused when she felt some soft material. "I didn't know you carried handkerchiefs."

"I don't," he said.

And he was right, because what she pulled out of his pocket was a pair of ladies' panties.

Stacy looked at them for a long moment then said, "What are these. No wait, better yet whose are they?"

Chance shook his head stunned. "I don't know."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not. I don't know who they belong to. I don't even know how they got there."

She wanted to believe him, but she'd let herself believe so many lies and half-truths in the past. Had this all been too good to be true? She slowly took off his jacket. "I need to go."

Chance blocked her path and grabbed her arms. "Stacy, please. I wouldn't. Please believe me."

She blinked back tears. She didn't even have her anger to protect her anymore. "I just need some time to think. Okay?"

He released her.

***

"I told you so, didn't I?" Julia said. She and Stacy sat in Julia's study eating a bowl of popcorn and looking at the TV. "Actors cannot be trusted. You've been trying so hard to look good and you've wasted it all on him."

"I didn't come over for you to tear him down," Stacy said, regretting her rash decision to tell her friend. "I just wanted to talk and figure out what to do next. He said they weren't his and he looked really shocked."

"A man always looks shocked when he gets caught."

Stacy fell silent knowing that was the reason she'd come to Julia. Her friend said out loud what she was thinking. Had she been deceived? Was she being used again? Being with Chance felt like a dream, maybe this was the reality. Then why did she believe him?

"Actors lie for a living. It's only been a few months. You don't know him that well."

"He says I do."

"And you believe him? You can't even remember him. Stacy, you know I love you so listen to me. This is a sign." Julia glanced at the TV then grabbed for the remote and quickly changed the channel.

"What did you do that for?" Stacy asked.

"No reason," Julia said avoiding her glance.

"Go back."

"No."

"Was it Chance?"

"No."

"Then let me see."

Julia sighed then switched back.

Stacy saw Marshall talking to a late night talk show host--handsome and charming as always.

"You don't want to watch this," Julia said.

"Yes, I do." She didn't, but couldn't seem to pull herself away.

"So what do you think about this new movie about your marriage?" the host asked Marshall.

"My ex is still using me for her material," he sat back looking self-satisfied. "I can't complain."

Stacy blocked out the rest of his words and just watched his mouth move. He was still winning, still portraying himself to the world as her Muse. Was she just a stepping stone to Chance? No, she'd seen him with his niece and his sister and he'd helped her with Houdini. He wasn't Marshall. Stacy finished her drink then set her glass down with a thud. "I believe him."

"What?"

"I believe the panties aren't his."

"Of course they're not
his
. They belong to some woman he's sleeping with."

Stacy shook her head. "No, he said he wouldn't and I believe him."

"You're fooling yourself. I think you don't want to believe you've made another mistake, so you're creating a story for him. This is the first time I really feel sorry for you and I can't take it. If you take him back, I can't be your friend anymore."

Stacy stared at her friend shocked. "You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do. I can't sit back and watch you go down the same road you did before. You're deluding yourself. You've fallen for an actor who just
happens
to need a role, who just
happens
to have his own company, who just
happens
to carry panties in his pockets."

"I know it seems strange, but I've changed. Can't you see that? Not just my clothes and hair, but inside." She tapped her chest. "I'm not as blind and naive as I used to be. Marshall was selfish, Chance isn't. He was there for me when I needed him."

"Conveniently so, don't you think? You were very vulnerable. You didn't see the man I negotiated with and the cold calculating gaze I met across the table. That kind doctor he plays on TV is definitely an act."

"Because that's what he does."

"Exactly," Julia said in a grim tone. "But how do you know when he isn't acting?"

***

Chance paced Tyson's office, feeling a major headache grip him.

"They have to be Tameka's," Tyson said.

"They're not. I asked her."

"Who else have you been seeing?"

"Nobody," Chance snapped. "I told you."

"Fine, let's retrace your steps."

"I've done it a thousand times and I can't think of anyone."

Tyson fell silent then snapped his fingers. "Maybe it was a fan."

Chance shook his head. "Usually they attach a note to let me know who they are."

Tyson sat up in his chair with interest. "You've had women slip you their panties before?"

Chance shot him a glance. "Try to stay on topic."

"I've never had a woman give me her panties. How does she let you know? Do you feel it when she--" He stopped when Chance leaned on his desk and glared at him. He waved his hands. "Never mind. So you're sure it's not a fan? Right, it's not a fan," he quickly said, when Chance rested his hands on his hips and sent him another dark look. He cleared his throat, knowing his friend was dangerous when he was in this mood. "Do you think it was prank?"

"I asked. Nobody will admit to anything. My life's not that exciting. I went to work and I visited Tiffany..." He paused when he saw Tyson's eyes widen. "No, it can't be."

"Your sister has a lot to worry about if it is."

"It's not hers."

"You've got to make sure."

Chance rubbed his forehead. "It doesn't make sense."

"Do you want to see Stacy again?"