Secrets (7 page)

Now what am I going to do?

Go back to work. That's what. He could feel his heart pounding, just looking at her, not with desire, but with the excitement of having gotten her the job. He knew that, given the chance, he could do great things with her. She had an appeal like no one else in Hollywood, if he could just get her to get rid of that jerk she was married to.

What'll I tell Jack?

Tell him you want to go back to work. But it wasn't as easy as that. She had lain in bed, sleepless, for over a week, and finally turned down the part. There was no way she could explain it to him. None at all. He wouldn't listen to anything she said. He just cooed and groaned as he made love to her, and every time she tried to say something, he turned her over, and made love to her again. It was almost like a joke. It was his way of not listening to her. All he wanted was for her to sleep with him, take care of his children, and entertain his clients over dinner. But the producer of the show just thought she was being coy. They doubled the money, and Lou called her five times a day. She was terrified Jack would answer the phone, and once he did. Lou was smart enough to say it was a wrong number and hang up, and finally she gave in. Trembling, terrified, she put the black wig in a bag and went to the studio in Burbank to talk to them. She signed the contracts that afternoon, terrified at what she'd done, at what Jack would do to her. He had said, more than once, that if she ever went back to acting, he'd throw her out. And she knew he would. He said he'd keep the kids, the house, everything. And the only thing she gave a damn about were the kids ' and the show ' the worst of it was that she fell in love with it. She played Marcia on Our Secret Sorrows in a black wig. She worked from ten to four thirty every day, and got home every afternoon in time to listen passionately to what the children had done all day in school. She cooked at night, baked for them, drove them to school before she went to work. And everyone, including Jack, thought she was doing volunteer work in a hospital. She even told them stories about it. The hospital became her life ' but in truth it was the show. She loved the people, the excitement, the atmosphere ' and everyone was crazy about her. She worked under the name of Janet Gole, her real name from long ago from Buffalo before she came to Hollywood, and miraculously no one ever knew. She shunned all publicity, and although the show got top ratings every year, no one she knew ever seemed to know or care how much she looked like Janet Gole, on Secret Sorrows. It came on live at noon every day, and she had never been happier. Other roles came up, and some important opportunities, but she turned them all down. She couldn't afford to lose her anonymity, and she knew on other shows she would. Not everyone would cater to her idiosyncrasies about no press, no interviews, no publicity. And for ten years on Secret Sorrows she managed to hang on both her anonymity and her black wig. She even paid her taxes under the name of Janet Gole, and had a separate social security number, so Jack never knew anything. No one did. The secret was perfectly kept.

Until the phone rang as she lay by her pool, watching the kids play volleyball. She had just lain down again, after throwing them the ball, when she heard the phone ring. They were on hiatus for two months, which worked perfectly for her. She could hang around with the kids, and they were all going to La Jolla for two weeks, as they did every year. She walked into the house and picked up the phone.

Hi, beautiful. It was Lou. He often called her, sometimes just to say hello. He took good care of her. He was sixty years old and he had always been kind to her. She respected him a great deal, and he respected what he called her craziness about keeping her career from Jack. He was as careful as he had to be. He didn't want to screw up what she had. But the new director on the show had done that anyway.

Hi, Lou.

Enjoying your holiday? His voice sounded strange to her, but she figured he was under a lot of pressure. He was most of the time, working with a handful of stars, and an army of hungry actors desperate for work, and badgering him night and day.

I always love the break. It gives me a chance to be with the kids. Jane and her family. It was all she talked about. That and her house, and her cooking. Christ, it was just as well she didn't give interviews, he always thought. With that body of hers, no one would believe she was for real.

What's up?

He paused, searching for the words. He knew it was going to hurt. A lot. But he had to tell her before she found out on the set. Not such great news. He decided to plunge right in. He hated doing it to her. They're going to write you out after the break.

What? It was a joke. It had to be. Her face went white beneath the tan, and the big blue eyes filled with tears. Are you serious?

I'm afraid I am. The new director wants a new look for the show. He's writing out four of you in a car crash on the first day. They're giving you a gorgeous severance, of course, I saw to that, but it looks like ' He didn't have to say more, as tears coursed silently down her cheeks. It was the worst news she'd ever had. Sorrows was her whole life, that and Jack and the kids. She'd been on the show for almost eleven years ' eleven years' .

It's been ten years of my life and he's going to' It happened all the time, particularly on soaps. But it was devastating to her. They were like her family. Can't you change his mind?

I tried everything. He didn't tell her that they were bringing in a younger girl to take her place, and three of the director's gay friends. There was no point in telling her that. All that mattered was that she was out. They want you back for the first day after hiatus and then that's it.

My God! ' She sat crying openly at the kitchen table when her oldest daughter walked in and looked at her in surprise.

Something wrong, Mom?

She shook her head silently, smiling valiantly through her tears, and Alexandra shrugged and helped herself to a 7-Up before going outside again to rejoin her friends, with never a backward glance toward Jane, as she started to cry again.

I just can't believe it.

Neither can I. And personally, I think he's a damn fool, but there's nothing we can do. It's their right, and I guess you should be happy you were on for ten years. Yeah, but now what? She knew she'd never find anything like it again. No other soap would let her keep her anonymity, and she couldn't let Jack find out.

I feel as though someone died. She laughed sadly. Me, I guess.

Screw 'em, we'll get you something else.

She began to sob, and at his end, Lou cringed. I can't do something else ' you know that ' this was perfect for me' .

So we'll find you another daytime soap that needs a sex bomb in a black wig. She had twelve of them by now, in different styles and lengths from the last ten years. But she was inconsolable, as the tears flowed and she blew her nose in a paper towel she found near the sink. I don't know what else to say, babe. I'm sorry. I really am. And he was. He hated seeing her hurt. She didn't deserve a rotten break like that.

What am I going to do? She blew her nose again, as the tears dripped from her cheeks to her chest, and were absorbed by her bikini top.

Give in gracefully. There's nothing else you can do. Go to work for one day and say good-bye. He knew it would be a ghastly scene, and as he talked to her, he jotted a note down on his calendar. He wanted to send her flowers that day, anonymously, as he always did. And I'll see what else is around.

I can't do anything else, Lou.

Don't be so sure. Leave it to me. I'll call you in a day or two.

She hung up and blew her nose again, feeling as though the world had come to an end. And in a sense it had. And just as she hung up the phone, the teen-agers came thundering in, eleven of them. Jason, Alexandra, Alyssa, and their friends.

What's for lunch? Jason smiled at her, seeing no evidence of the tears she had just shed. He looked almost exactly like Jack when they'd first met. And Alexandra looked a lot like him too, although they both had her red hair. But other than that, none of them looked even remotely like her.

Turning her back to them, so they couldn't see her damp eyes, she took the tray of sandwiches she'd made out of the refrigerator. There was ham, bologna, turkey, several combinations, and half a dozen BLTs, and carrying handfuls of them and three six-packs of Coke, they all disappeared again, as she sat down at the kitchen table with a sigh. It was over. All over for her. Jack had won in the end, and he didn't even know it. And then, as though just thinking of him had made him materialize, she heard a car in the drive, and glanced out the window to see his familiar silver Mercedes grind to a halt as he bounded out. He still looked like a very young man, and his blond hair hid the gray she knew was there. He was athletic and in good shape, and looked far less than his forty-three years, but there was something unkind about his eyes, and a hardness to his mouth, that hadn't been there years before. He had good looks, but he lacked warmth, and even now, as he came through the kitchen door, he didn't smile at her, didn't see the grief so obvious in her eyes. In fact, he never really even looked at her.

Hi, honey, what brings you home? She smiled, as he turned his back and reached into the refrigerator for a beer.

I had a meeting nearby and thought I'd come home for lunch. He turned and seemed to eye her from the neck down, his eyes never meeting hers. He loosened his tie, and took a sip of the beer right from the can. He had tossed his jacket on a chair, and she could see the muscles ripple beneath his shirt. He played tennis almost every day when he got home. He and Jason were lethal on the courts. Jane had never learned to play well, and they hated playing with her. You're not working at the hospital today?

I'm off for the summer. Remember? She smiled again, and this time he smiled back.

Yeah. That's right. I always forget. He eyed the ripe luscious body, and seemed to lose interest in all else. Been out by the pool? He provided well for them. He provided everything. Pool, cars, clothes for her and the kids, rented house in La Jolla every year, vacation in Hawaii over the Christmas holiday, yet it always seemed to her that there was so much he didn't share, so much he couldn't give. Like himself. He was always so distant, and he never talked to her.

I was keeping an eye on the kids. They always exchanged banalities, and little more. He never told her about his work, never had, and he seldom talked about his friends at work.

Did you get the stuff I wanted for La Jolla next week? He had given her a precise list of fishing gear he wanted replaced.

I haven't had time. I'll do it this afternoon.

But suddenly it felt as though the world had come to an end. Hadn't it, she wondered, as he approached, and stuck two fingers down the front of her tiny black elastic pants. He found what he was looking for and plunged in, hurting her, but she said nothing to him.

Got time for something else? It was a rhetorical question. She had never said no to him. He had already set down his beer and grabbed her breast with his other hand. His mouth crushed down on hers and he bit her lips. Wanna fuck? She was used to the way he said it by now. After twenty years, the brutality of the way he made love to her no longer shocked or surprised. It was simply the way Jack was these days. It had been different when they first met. He was gentler then, but once they were married, things had gradually changed, and it was as though he were crazed to possess her sometimes and couldn't go deep enough or hard enough. He'd been that way even when she was pregnant, and it had scared her sometimes, but no harm had ever come of it. She'd been embarrassed to tell her doctor what they did. And he pulled her toward him now and ground against her, chewing on her lower lip, and then he pulled away and smiled. I'm glad I came home after all. This beats lunch downtown.

She laughed, but her eyes weren't smiling today, and he grabbed her by the arm and hurried down the long hall with her, around the L shape that surrounded the sunken living room. Their bedroom was at the farthest end, he had planned it that way, and she often wondered if he had done that so the children wouldn't hear the noises he made. He slammed the door behind them, and locked the door. He never bothered pulling the window shades but the kids couldn't see them from the pool anyway, and she liked seeing the trees as he pulled her roughly to the floor and yanked off her bathing suit. He unzipped only his fly and forced himself inside her with no prelude, no gentleness, his hands milking her breasts as roughly as they always had, until he bent down and bit her nipples too. Sometimes he bit them till they bled, but not this time, this time he worked them until she was aroused too, and began to moan softly beneath his hands, and then he startled her by pulling away, and fondling her with his lips, pulling her wide with both hands and then plunging inside her again and this time for the last time as he gave a loud shout and then a long soft moan, as he lay on her, satisfied, pleased with himself, smiling to himself as he touched her breasts for a last time, never seeing the tears that ran slowly from her eyes as she looked at him.

Jane walked onto the familiar set with a knot in her stomach the size of Boulder Dam. She saw the faces of the carpenters she knew so well, the sound men, the gaffers she had known for years. And all of them were dear to her. She baked cookies for them, brought cakes, knitted for their babies when they came. She cared about everyone, and she needed all of them. Needed them for her well-being. They were her family, as much as her children were. These people were her only friends. And now she was losing them.