Rhapsody (42 page)

"I appreciate your concern," Serena said,
meaning it, "but that's not going to happen again."

"How can you be so certain?" Coral asked.
"Don't forget that Misha Levin had quite a reputation before he got
married. It was a different girl every few weeks, and from what I
heard at the time, a lot of one-night stands thrown in for good
measure."

"That was years ago," Serena said in his
defense.

"Yes," Coral conceded. "About five or six
years ago. Hardly ancient history, Serena. What I'm saying is, he
has a history of playing around. Not only that, but his life is
much more complicated now than it was the last time you two got
involved. He wasn't married then, and didn't have a child."

"I know all that," Serena said, sighing
wearily.

"And what about your career?" Coral asked.
"Have you given that any thought? You've signed a contract for
loads of money, and you're going to be under a lot of pressure to
produce. You're going to be extremely busy." Coral waited for a
response, but Serena sat mutely, staring at the floor.

"How's Misha Levin going to like it when you
have to be gone half the time?" Coral persisted. "That was the
problem the last time, if I remember correctly, and that hasn't
changed. Are you willing to give up your career for him?"

"I would never do that," Serena said, her
eyes bright with determination. "Besides, he wouldn't want me to.
Misha's proud of my work, and somehow, I just know we can work it
out."

She turned her hazel eyes on Coral. Her face
was etched with an anguish that Coral hadn't seen there before.
"We've just got to work it out," Serena said in a near whisper.
"Because I meant what I said, Coral." Her voice broke then, and
tears came into her eyes. "I'm really in love with him."

Jaded though she was, Coral's heart melted,
and she looked at Serena tenderly. She rose to her feet and walked
to the couch, her high heels click-clacking on the floor. She sat
down next to Serena and took her in her arms.

Serena laid her head on Coral's shoulder and
wept, Coral stroking her hair, whispering, "It'll be all right,
darling. It'll be all right."

She wished she believed that her words were
true. She did know that despite all her good advice, there was
nothing more she could do to convince Serena that she was making a
terrible mistake. Whether it was truly love or not didn't matter,
Coral realized, because Serena believed she was in love and
believed that Misha loved her.

How could she tell Serena what she really
thought? she wondered. She couldn't, she decided. It was as simple
as that. The truth was too cruel and would simply be too much for
Serena to cope with on top of everything else.

Coral was convinced that Serena Gibbons had
experienced so little real love in her life, so little nurturing,
that she wouldn't recognize love if she was shown it or she herself
felt it. She had never known anything but abuse, Coral reasoned,
first from her family, then from the men she became involved with.
And she was so starved for affection that when she'd been shown any
degree of attention, she'd usually responded inappropriately,
confusing even the basest lust with something infinitely more
complicated and rewarding.

I think I'm probably the only person who's
ever really loved Serena, she thought sadly.

At the same time, Coral was extremely worried
because she also knew that Serena was quite capable of being
extraordinarily insensitive to others, doling out the same kind of
abuse she'd always received. Something fundamental, she had come to
believe, had been so damaged by abuse and neglect that she wondered
if Serena would ever heal.

"There, there," she whispered calmly, still
stroking Serena's hair. "It'll be all right, darling."

Serena abruptly lifted her head and looked at
Coral. Her eyes were red and puffy. "Oh, Coral," she said,
sniffling, "I don't know what I'd do without you. Even if you do
make me mad as all hell sometimes." Then she laughed and, pulling
away, sat up straight.

"There's some Kleenex in my handbag," Coral
said. "I'll get it." She got to her feet and retrieved her big
Hermes Kelly bag. She found the packet of Kleenex and handed it to
Serena.

Serena took it and wiped her eyes, then blew
her nose. "Thanks, Coral," she said.

Coral stood watching her a moment, then
crossed back to the chair and sat down. "Do you want to come uptown
with me and go out to dinner?" she said. "Or we could order in, if
you like."

"No." Serena shook her head. "I've got to
start packing for the trip to England. Jason and Bennett are coming
over to help." And she thought: I've got to be here to talk to
Misha when he calls. She hadn't told Coral that they were meeting
in England, and she had no intention of doing so now.

"Good," Coral said. "How are Jason and
Bennett?"

"They're great," Serena said. "No tantrums,
very efficient. And they're loads of fun to work with."

"I'm sure you could use some fun tonight,"
Coral said lightly. Then her voice suddenly became serious. "I'm
really sorry I've upset you, Serena. I—"

"Forget it, Coral," Serena interjected. "I
know you're trying to do what you think's right for me."

"Yes," Coral said. "I am. I know these are
things you don't want to hear, but I care enough about you to say
them. Just remember one thing, Serena. No matter what happens, I'm
on your side, and I'll do whatever I can to help you." She didn't
want to add that she had a strong feeling Serena was going to be
needing her more than ever in the coming weeks.

Serena looked over at her. "Thanks, Coral,"
she said. "I really appreciate it." She got to her feet and
stretched. "Now, why don't you go on? I know you want to get back
uptown, and I'm okay."

"You're sure?" Coral asked.

"Yes," Serena said. "I'm sure."

Coral reached for her handbag and rose to her
feet. She kissed Serena on the cheek, and Serena kissed her
back.

"I'll walk you to the elevator," Serena
said.

Arm in arm, they crossed the living room's
huge expanse to the loft's entrance hall, where Serena pushed the
button for the elevator. It opened immediately.

"Call me before you leave," Coral said,
getting in the car.

"Oh, I will," Serena said. "Sometime tomorrow
for sure. Bye." She waved.

"Good-bye, Serena," Coral said as the doors
closed on her.

Serena turned and slumped against the wall.
Jesus, she thought. Thank God she's gone.

Coral, she knew, meant well, but she simply
couldn't get it through her head that Serena was in love. She
walked back to the living room and picked up the glass of Jack
Daniel's, then walked to the kitchen and threw the drink out in the
sink.

What Coral doesn't realize
, Serena
thought,
is that I'm going to have Misha Levin come hell or high
water.

Misha replaced the telephone receiver in its
cradle and looked thoughtfully toward the French doors, which led
out to the wraparound terrace. He didn't see them, however, or the
beautifully planted terrace that lay beyond them, with its
spectacular view of Manhattan's twinkling night-time lights.

What he did envision was Serena, standing
tall, slender, and magnificently nude. Her long black hair hung
loose about her face, and her creamy naked breasts and firm thighs
beckoned Kim to her, offering her body's rich delights and secret
pleasures. He sat transfixed, reveling in her siren's call and his
own heightened state of arousal, marveling that his merely speaking
to her on the telephone still had such an effect on him.

Even after all these months, he reflected,
since running into her in Vienna. It seemed like yesterday, that
chance meeting, yet at the same time, like a million years ago.
Their relationship had evolved into something so intense, and their
lovemaking had become so familiar— yet always fresh, he
thought.

"Everything okay, old boy?" Manny,
fastidiously dressed and groomed as always, abruptly entered
Misha's field of vision as he stepped through the terrace doors
into the living room, a crystal balloon of brandy in hand. Sasha,
aloof as always, remained out on the terrace.

Misha reluctantly relinquished the erotic
specter that held him in its thrall and forced himself to return to
the present reality. In this case, Manny and Sasha's lavishly
decorated penthouse high above the West Side near Lincoln
Center.

"What did you say?" Misha asked, swirling the
scotch and water around in his glass before taking a sip.

"Everything okay?" Manny asked again.

"Yes," Misha said. "Everything's fine,
Manny."

"So you two are getting together in London, I
take it?" Manny asked, seating himself in a Jean-Michel Frank
chair. Its bone leather upholstery squeaked under his weight.

"No," Misha said, "not London." He looked
over at Manny and smiled conspiratorially. "But we are going to
meet out in the country. At this place where Serena's going to be
shooting. A big country house. She says it's really spectacular,
practically a palace."

"And I assume," Manny said, "that this
hanky-panky isn't going to interfere with your schedule?" He looked
over at Misha through his thick tortoiseshell glasses.

"Has it ever?" Misha asked somewhat
heatedly.

"No, no," Manny quickly replied. "I didn't
mean—"

"I don't care what you meant," Misha snapped.
"Don't ask me stupid questions." He shifted his weight on the
shagreen daybed where he was seated and eyed Manny crossly.

"Jesus, Misha," Manny said, his face
reddening. "Sorry!" Prick! he thought. What the hell's got his
goat, anyway? He thinks he's so fucking superior?

Misha took another sip of his drink, then set
the glass down on the rosewood Eugene Printz table next to him,
noticing that it, like everything else in Manny's luxurious
penthouse, was a pristine original. He looked up then and saw the
hurt expression on Manny's face. He immediately felt contrite for
snapping at him.

"Christ," he said, "I'm sorry, Manny. I
didn't mean to jump down your throat."

"It's okay, Misha," Manny said. "Forget it."
He shrugged, then took a sip of his brandy, savoring its fiery
taste on his palate. "You're not yourself tonight. What's bugging
you, old boy?"

Misha looked at him for a moment, then
sighed. "To be honest, Manny, I don't like the way you used 'hanky-
panky' to describe the relationship that Serena and I have."

"I—I'm sorry," Manny said, looking at Misha
with surprise. If it's not hanky-panky, he thought, what the fuck
would you call it, then?

"It's much more than that, Manny," Misha
said, as if he'd read Manny's mind. His face was set in a solemn
expression and his tone was serious. "In fact, it's not like that
at all. This is serious, Manny. Real serious."

Manny returned his gaze. "So you're sure this
isn't just a passing fancy?" he asked.

"Anything but, Manny." Misha shook his head,
and ran his long fingers through his hair. "I'm in love with her.
Head over heels in love."

Manny could hardly restrain himself from
clapping his hands in glee. Nothing could make him happier, for he
had come to loathe Vera Levin and her unwavering attention to
Misha's business. She was always asking questions. Always going
through Misha's royalty statements with a fine-tooth comb. She'd
made it quite clear that she didn't trust him or Sasha.

Manny cleared his throat. "Uh-oh," he
said.

"Uh-oh, indeed," Misha responded.

"And she's in love with you, I take it?"
Manny said.

Misha nodded. "Yes."

"What are you going to do about it?" Manny
asked. "I mean, are you—"

"I don't know," Misha answered truthfully. "I
don't know what to do. But I do know that it can't go on like this
much longer. Sneaking down to her loft like some kind of criminal
or trying to meet if we're traveling in the same part of the
world—it's not enough. It's making us both a little crazy."

Misha paused and took a sip of his scotch and
water. "I hate the subterfuge," he said with a scowl. "It makes me
feel dirty. It makes what Serena and I do—what we have with each
other—seem sordid. And it's not, Manny. It's anything but. It's
beautiful and wonderful and pure."

He looked at Manny, his eyes burning bright
with conviction.

Manny simply nodded, and thought: Whoa! This
gets better and better. He really believes he and Serena are
involved in some kind of great and noble love affair instead of a
good old-fashioned fuckfest.

"But having to sneak around and tell lies
taints everything," Misha added. He heaved a sigh. "I hate the
deceit and the furtiveness. But I guess most of all I hate the
...the unfaithfulness."

"Are you going to tell Vera about it?" Manny
asked.

"I'm going to have to, and soon," Misha
replied. "It just can't go on like this."

"I'd say the sooner the better," Manny
suggested. "Then you won't have to he or sneak around. You'll feel
a whole lot better about yourself."

"I wish it were that easy," Misha said. "I
guess I'm being a real chicken, but I know that Vera's going to be
crushed. She hasn't really done anything to deserve this, you know?
She's going to be hurt. Really hurt. And Nicky ...well ...I—"

Misha's voice suddenly broke, and he looked
at Manny with his big, dark eyes. They were immensely sad with the
knowledge of the pain he would inflict on his wife and his son.

"I think Nicky's still too young to know
what's going on," Manny said quickly. "And no matter what happens,
you'd see a lot of him. Vera's not unreasonable. She'll be hurt of
course, but we both know that Vera's strong and resilient, Misha.
She'll get over it. Probably quicker than you think."

"Why do you say that?" Misha asked.