Randall #01 - The Best Revenge (32 page)

Chapter 35—Violet Rushes Forth

 When Plant reappeared a few minutes later, he looked even more bedraggled. The sleeve of his tuxedo jacket was torn, his hair fell in his face, and a red patch under his right eye had begun to swell.

Camilla knew she didn’t look much better. She had dressed in clothes Violet insisted she borrow—a vivid purple polyester suit about a size and a half too small, with a nylon blouse of a pink that didn’t quite match her water-stained shoes.

She lightly touched Plant’s cheek. “What happened?”  

“Kahn and I had a little—discussion.”

“He hit you?”

“Maybe I swung first.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s slime.”

So. He’d decided not to make sense. Time to change the subject.

“Well, in any case, I’m glad you’re here. How did you know I’d be at Violet’s?”

“I couldn’t think of any other place you could have gone. Franny called me at one A.M., frantic, saying you hadn’t come home. I tried phoning the landlady here, but got no answer, and Violet’s number isn’t listed. I even tried calling your mother, but all I got was some German woman.”

“That’s Helga, the night nurse,” Violet said as she emerged from the bathroom dressed in a robe and nightie. “She’s a real terror, that one. Straight out of those operas where they wear the brass bras and those hats—you know—with the horns sticking out? Joanie can’t stand her, but of course, she’s not the one who’s sick.”

Camilla sorted through these implausibilities. Violet. Her mother. Together.

I’m going to have to get a little shut eye,” Violet said. “Those night flights save money, but they sure don’t give you a good night’s sleep. Why don’t you two go out and have that breakfast? Then you can come back here, Camellia. It’s nice to have you home.” She gave Camilla’s shoulder a pat and turned to Plant. “She had to get Genghis over here because he had the key to my place. You shouldn’t get yourself so worked up, Planty.”

Plant looked from Violet to Camilla.

“Is she right? You came here because it’s—home? I’ve been worried sick. You seemed so upset when you left the party, and when you took off in that car like a bat out of hell—frankly, I was afraid you might have smashed up somewhere. But the CHP didn’t have a report of a wrecked DeLorean, so I drove down here. I’m glad you’re all right.”

“Of course she’s all right,” Violet said. “Talking about bats—Camellia, you should have seen him out there before—screeching up behind my taxi in his fancy car and tearing up the stairs, not even offering to carry my valises. I had to give him a good talking-to.”

“Fancy car?” Camilla pictured Plantagenet’s unprepossessing rental.

Plant shrugged. “I had to borrow Angela’s Rolls. My car was parked in, and she didn’t need it. She’d given the chauffeur the rest of the weekend off. Family emergency.”

A family emergency called Franny, probably.

“You were still at Angela’s when Franny called you? I thought you’d be going home with Glen.”

There. She said it.

Plantagenet gave a pained look.

“Glen left right after you did. I was hoping you’d come back. Anyway, I had some business to do. There were some money people there at Angela’s…In fact, I think I’ve got the backing now to take
Alexander!
to New York.”

There was joy behind his fatigue.

“That’s fantastic news!” Camilla hugged him tightly, wet suit and all. “I’m so happy for you.”

Violet bubbled. “Everyone should take a trip to New York once in a while. Helps keep things in perspective. I hope you and your friend Alexander have a bang-up time in the Big Apple, Planty. I had a wonderful visit. Camellia’s mother is the perfect hostess.”

“You stayed with Mother—in her New York house?”

“Most of the time we spent in the house in Darien, but some of the time we went into the city to see how Mr. Snopes was doing. He stays there to be close to his doctors. But they can’t do much at this stage. He’s not long for this world. I can tell. I’ve buried enough of them myself. That’s why I was good company for your mother.”

“The house? In Darien? But we don’t have a house in Darien. She had to sell it.”

“Mr. Snopes bought it back for her as a wedding present. Wasn’t that nice? But now poor Joanie is working herself to a frazzle redecorating it from top to bottom. You should have seen all the arty-farty shops she dragged me to.” Violet interrupted herself with a noisy yawn. “Now you two skedaddle. I need my sleep.”

Plant looked from his torn jacket to Camilla’s hand-me-down polyester. “Darling, where can we go looking like this?”

Driving up to the MacDonald’s window in the Rolls Royce should have been fun, but the air was thick with tension. Camilla had no idea what was really going on with Glen and Plant—or with her and Plant, or with her and Jonathan.

As they sat silently eating Egg McMuffins, she decided to broach the subject. “You invited Jonathan to Angela’s party. Why did you do that if you think he’s slime?”

“It was Glen’s idea. He’s convinced Kahn’s in love with you. Glen thought if the two of you talked, something might be resolved. I guess I went along with it because I was hoping you’d see Kahn for what he really is.”

“And what is he, really?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear this.

“Not what I thought. After his nose started bleeding, we stopped swinging and talked a little. I thought he was a media jackal who was only interested in you for the story, but it turns out he and I have a lot in common. We’re just a couple of poor bastards who fell in love with the same woman.” Plant crumpled his napkin and stuffed it into the empty Styrofoam container. “No, not the same woman. He fell in love with a tough, savvy reporter, and I fell for a sweet, fragile girl. Which one of those is you?”

Camilla slurped the remains of her Diet Coke.

“Neither one, really. I’m just me. Maybe neither of you is in love with the person I really am.”

“Maybe I could be.” There was pain in his eyes, but she saw love, too.

“What about Glen?”

“I don’t know. Glen’s gay. And I’m—I don’t know what I am.”

“I think you should find out, Plantagenet.”

There was silence for a moment before he turned the key in the ignition.

“Where are we going? Are you coming back to L.A. with me?”

“No. I’m staying here. Violet says I can live with her until I find an apartment.”

“Are you staying because Kahn is here?”

“I’m staying because my work is here.”

“But you’re in love with Kahn?”

“Maybe.” She only realized the truth as it came out of her mouth. “Not the way I love you. You’re my best friend and—my family, sort of. What I feel for Jonathan is confusing and scary and weird.”

“I’ll see if I can get someone to bring your things down this week.” Plantagenet kept his eyes on the road. “You may be able to live in Violet’s apartment, but I don’t think you’ll be happy living in her clothes.” He took a sudden breath as he pulled up in front of the apartment building. “Good God, what’s that woman up to now?”

Violet stood on the steps of the building, wearing her hat and coat, flanked by her two suitcases, waving frantically.

“Planty, don’t leave! You’ve got to drive me back to the airport.”

Camilla jumped out and ran to her. “You left something at the airport?”

Violet shook her head. “Of course not. I’m going back to New York. Here’s my key. Take good care of the place. Planty, come carry my valises.” She scurried down the stairs and into the front seat.

Plantagenet silently loaded the luggage into the trunk while Camilla hovered. She didn’t know what to say.

“Good bye, Camilla.” Plant looked close to tears. “I hope I’ll always be your best friend—and your sort-of-family.” He gripped her in a hug that lasted too long.

“Come on, Planty,” Violet shouted from the car. “I’ve got a plane to catch.”

Chapter 36—The Triumph of Dr. Lavinia

Camilla had to wear Violet’s purple suit to work on Monday morning.  

Julie wasn’t at her desk. Jonathan, talking on the phone in his glass cubicle, had his back to the room, and Bob, busy at his typewriter, didn’t even look up. She could have been arriving at work on any normal Monday morning except for one thing—another woman sat in her cubicle, typing away on her Selectric.

The woman had white hair set in stiff, lacquered curls and wore dark-rimmed glasses, attached to a gold chain around her neck. She wore a suit rather like Camilla’s, except hers was navy blue.

“How may I help you?” the woman said.

“This used to be Dr. Lavinia’s cubicle.”

“It still is,” the woman said. “How may I help you?”

“You’re Dr. Lavinia?” Had Jonathan replaced her?

“No. I’m her secretary. Dr. Lavinia sees no one. You’ll have to excuse me. We’re very busy here.” The woman returned her attention to a stack of letters on her desk.

“You don’t understand…”

She heard Julie’s voice behind her. “Randy? Is that you?” She wore a T-shirt that said “A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.” She welcomed Camilla with a warm hug.

“I didn’t know I had a secretary!”

“You have two. Gloria here handles the mail, and we have a girl answering the phones out on the floor. Gloria, meet Dr. Lavinia.”

“I’m so sorry,” Gloria said, jumping to her feet. “Mr. Kahn didn’t tell me you’d be coming in. I haven’t talked to him this morning.”

“Just as well,” Julie said. “I haven’t seen him like this since the day he fired Stuart. He’s threatened to let three more people go, including me. And you know what?” Julie stepped further inside and whispered. “He’s got this big bruise on his face like he’s been in a fight.”

~

The morning went by quickly. Gloria turned out to be wonderfully efficient, and in spite of many interruptions as co-workers wandered by to welcome her back, Camilla had a column finished by the time Julie arrived and announced lunch time.

“So,” Julie said as they sat down to their plates of orange spaghetti at Frank’s. “How is your gorgeous fiancé? Is the wedding going to be soon?”

Camilla swallowed a bite.

“Actually, we’re not…really engaged. Not anymore.”

“Oops,” Julie said. “I thought I’d chosen a safe topic. Did you notice I didn’t say one thing about Jon-Don Parker? Or jail? Or your clothes? Do I get points for that?”

“Will you look who’s here, slumming with the riff-raff,” said Bernie McGee as she made her way through the crowd. “Camel,” she said pulling up a chair. “I hope you know you’re not the only celebrity here. Julie is becoming a star. Did she tell you?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Julie said.

“Nothing! You’re just the female lead,” said Bernie. “
Twelve Picassos and a
Green Rug
by David Patrick Columbia
.
She’s so sweet and sincere. What an acting job!”

Julie’s sheepish grin changed to an expression of puzzlement as she caught sight of something behind them.

“Gloria!” she said, “Is something wrong?”

Camilla turned to see her secretary, red-faced and out of breath, trying to push through the crowd to their table.

“Miss Randall,” Gloria said when she’d caught her breath. “They need you back to the office. Mr. Kahn said if I didn’t find you in fifteen minutes, I’d be fired.”

“Genghis Kahn strikes again,” said Bernie. “Hey, can I finish your spaghetti?”

~

Jonathan wasn’t on the phone when Camilla walked into the office, but just as she opened his door, she heard it ring. He glared at her and picked up the receiver.

“We have no comment at this time,” he said, allowing the caller no time to speak. He slammed the phone back onto his desk. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Lunch,” she said.

“Why didn’t you check in with me this morning? Hell, I didn’t even know if you were going to show up.” He ran his fingers through his already out-of-control hair. “I’m sorry if I interrupted your big reunion with Julie, but something came over the wire that I thought might be of interest to you. It seems that a Boston paper has just come out with a story concerning the identity of the hot new columnist, Dr. Lavinia. The byline is E. Stuart Gordon, III. I fired the arrogant twit last week. I should have realized something like this would happen. The entire world will soon know that Camilla Randall and Dr. Lavinia are one and the same.”

“Oh, dear,” she said.

“‘Oh, dear’ —is that your official statement?”

“What would you like me to say, Mr. Kahn?” She wished she could make her voice as cold and unemotional as his.

“It’s your column. I can’t make that decision.”

“Well, I’d better tell my readers the truth, hadn’t I? Politely, of course.”

“Oh, yes, by all means, be polite. And quick. We’re holding page one.”

“Oh, my goodness! Really? It’s not like it’s real news.”

“It’s exactly like real news, Dr. Lavinia.” Jonathan’s voice was still stern, but he was grinning now. “You better get a move on. There’s a team from Channel 4 on its way over, so as soon as you’ve finished the column, you’ll have to talk to them. Keep them outside. I don’t want a bunch of those TV cretins disrupting my newsroom.”

“You mean I have to be on television? Wearing this? You can’t expect me to face the world in purple polyester!”

The telephone rang, and as Jonathan reached for it, grim faced, Camilla could tell her time would be wasted pleading with him.

She rushed back to the cube she was sharing with Gloria. After a couple of false starts, Dr. Lavinia candidly wrote her readers that she thanked them for their support during her recent ordeal and that now that there was an end to the silly, but unpleasant accusations against herself, she had decided to reveal her true identity to her loyal followers. Dr. Lavinia also wrote that although she knew many of her readers had pictured her as a lady of more advanced years, she was sure they realized that good manners and common sense were not linked to the aging process, and she hoped her supporters would continue to turn to her for advice. She handed it to Gloria for proofreading just as Julie came in to say the TV crew were banging on the door downstairs.

~

Dealing with them wasn’t so easy. For one thing, the perky woman interviewer kept wanting to know about Camilla’s “costume” and asked if it was part of the “gag”. Several times the woman was so overcome with laughter that she had to call “cut” to the camera operator, and the whole thing had to begin again.

Before the final take was finished, several more camera crews appeared, and for what felt like hours, Camilla answered the same questions over and over, while more video cameras rolled around her like a crowd of one-eyed space creatures.

When she finally trudged back up to the office, she felt drained and battered. She had no idea if she had said the right things. If she had humiliated herself, she’d never forgive Jonathan. He shouldn’t have sent her out there alone.

Plantagenet would never have abandoned her like that. He was right. Jonathan was a jackal. Why hadn’t she gone back to L.A? Plant would take care of her. He was about to have a big success with
Alexander!
He’d be living in the New York world she grew up in. She could be happy with him. So what if he had flings? Lots of wives survived that.

“Mr. Kahn says to get your butt in his office ASAP,” Julie said as she walked in.

“Oh, does he?” Camilla said. “Well, I think it’s time Dr. Lavinia had a little talk with Mr. Kahn on the subject of his manners.”

She was pleased to see the startled look on Julie’s face as she strode toward Jonathan’s office.

“All right, Mr. Genghis Kahn.” She yanked open the door of the glass office and slammed it hard behind her. “Before you bark any more orders, or fire me, or whatever you’re going to do, you need to understand that people have limits, and I’ve reached mine. I’ve been answering idiotic questions for hours, all by myself, and I’m worn out. If you’re planning to be rude to me again, don’t bother. You were rude enough earlier for me to remember quite clearly. Apparently, you were also rude to my secretary, and threatened to fire her, but I’m sure it’s me you want to fire, so go ahead. I don’t think I want to work for you anymore, anyway.”

“Too bad,” Jonathan said calmly. “You’re under contract.”

“You aren’t going to fire me? Even though Dr. Lavinia has been—exposed?”

“Why would I do that? Having the public know that you’re Dr. Lavinia can only boost readership. I called you in to tell you I liked your column. The tone is perfect. I think your readers will buy it.” His calm manner was infuriating.

“You like it? I’m not even sure what I wrote—I had to do it so fast.”

“The newspaper business is full of pressure—which you obviously handle well.”

 “It isn’t obvious to me. It was terrible out there,” she said quietly. “They kept laughing at me. You were mean to make me go out there by myself. Plantagenet wouldn’t let reporters near me. He protected me, but you—you just ordered me to go out there.”

“Yes,” he said, leaning over his desk, “I don’t waste my time protecting people who don’t need it. My mistake. Is that why you’ve decided to go back to Smith? I take it you have, since you made such a point of avoiding me this morning.”

“I wasn’t avoiding you. You were busy, and so was I. I’m not going back to Plant. We said goodbye yesterday. He had to go back to L.A., and I decided not to go with him.” The memory made her feel sniffly. She tried to look away

“Why?” Jonathan said. “I think he loves you very much.”

“He does. And I love him. But it’s not the same.”

“The same as what?”

“The same as…” She stared at the familiar ink spot on the floor. Now it looked like a squashed rose. “The same as the way I love you.”

Before she could say anything else, Jonathan pulled her to him in a warm and gentle kiss. With equal warmth, she threw her arms around him and kissed him back, all her anger and pain dissolving.

“Oh, dear,” she said, suddenly drawing back. “This office isn’t very private. Somebody might see us.”

“Somebody already has.”

“What do you mean?” But when she looked through the glass partition, no answer was necessary. Most of the staff of the San Diego
Sentinel
were standing up and cheering. Her face burned as she turned back to Jonathan.

“What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to walk out of here, find a nice, quiet, restaurant and have some wine, food, a little candlelight, and a lot of romance—if it’s all right with you, Dr. Lavinia?” He waved casually at his employees without taking his eyes off her face.

“It’s all right with me, Mr. Kahn.”

~

The restaurant was French-Vietnamese, and the food was delicious. As she finished the last of her cassoulet, Camilla watched Jonathan refill her glass. The wine glowed pale amber in the candlelight.

“I wonder what they thought,” she said. “Everybody at the office—when they saw us kissing like that? It must have looked pretty funny, especially after I announced that I was going to tell you off.”

“They probably thought I was a lucky son-of-a-bitch,” he said, reaching for her free hand across the table. “Which I am.” He brought her fingers to his lips. “And you had every right to tell me off. I had no idea you’d have to do so many interviews. I should have put a stop to it.”

“Maybe it would be a nice change—to be around somebody who doesn’t think I need rescuing all the time.”

“Everybody needs rescuing sometimes. I’ll be the first to admit that. You staged a pretty good rescue that night I was mugged. I think that’s the moment I fell in love with you—when I was lying in the gutter in the pouring rain watching you fight that guy with nothing but—what was it? A can of hairspray? Angela said I was only infatuated with you because I’d finally met a reporter who was tougher than me.”

Fell in love. He just said he’d fallen in love. Out loud.

“You told Angela about—that night? When?”

“As a matter of fact, I was in the middle of the story when we walked into that restaurant and saw you with Smith and his portable rose garden. Luckily I hadn’t told her your name. I felt like a horse’s ass as it was. Not that I regret breaking it off with her. We never should have tried to get back together.”