Sharing Space (The Complete Series) (30 page)

Cate leaned towards me and whispered, “I’m telling you, out of the four of us left, Liam will be the next one to have children.  It sure won’t be me and my parents would shit kittens if it were Charlotte. Have you met Charlotte yet?”

“Uh, yes,” I replied, taking a big sip of my own wine to keep from saying any more. Loud shrieking from the twins distracted Cate from asking another question. She jumped at the noise and spilled her wine. 

“Yeah, definitely won’t be me. Are you and Patrick…?” She left the question in the air and it took me a moment to figure out where she was going with it. 

“Oh! No. We just started. I mean, we’re not—”

Cate let out a loud belly laugh. “I’m just teasing you. Relax. Though it is good practice for the inquisition I’m sure will be coming from my mother. I think when she was a little girl all she wanted to be when she grew up was a grandmother. Trust me, by the time you leave she’ll already have your wedding dress picked out and be trying to shove prenatal vitamins down your throat.  Better you than me. So let me officially thank you for showing up to this family gathering and taking the pressure off yours truly.”

Somehow, I seriously doubted I needed to worry about that. Everyone seemed very cordial towards me, and I felt at ease except whenever Mrs. Murphy entered the room. She barely spoke to me and, when she did, it seemed she had trouble looking me in the eye. She’d thanked me for the muffins and sat the box next to several cooling pies before declining my offer for help in the kitchen.

I felt uncomfortable, but didn’t want to read too much into it. Instead, I concentrated on getting to know everyone else. Mr. Murphy appeared very interested in my work at Braxton and Lloyd and listened intently as I explained what I did. He reminded me of Patrick in that he took a genuine interest in what you had to say. I noticed he was like that with each of his kids as well. I was standing near the fireplace, speaking with Thomas’s wife Mary, when Mrs. Murphy announced dinner would be served in ten minutes.

A familiar voice behind me whispered, “We gotta stop meeting like this.”

I turned and there was Paul smiling back at me. Relief at seeing a familiar face draped over me. I might have even audibly sighed as I hugged him hello.

“Chloe, this is my mother Virginia.”

Paul’s mother was a thin woman with brown hair and she strongly resembled Paul. “Nice to meet you. Paul told me what a wonderful time he had with you and your family yesterday.”

“Oh, it was great to have him over. I’m glad you had fun,” I said, turning back to Paul.

“Chloe, come with me out to the car? I left the cake.”

“Sure.”

Paul and I exited out the front door and headed for a minivan parked at the curb.

“I did that on purpose, left the cake in the car. I just had to find out what you thought of the Murphys and I knew I needed to get you alone to do that.”

I laughed loudly and was even more grateful Paul was there. We walked around the far side of the van and leaned against it so anyone watching from the house couldn’t see us. Like two kids, we began to gossip.

“Well, to be honest, I’m having trouble keeping up with names.  Maggie and her boys are kind of easy to remember because they all start with M.”

“Yeah, her husband’s name is Mitchell, but he probably won’t be here. Theresa told my mother that they were having problems. What do you think of everyone else?”

“Cate is a blast. She’s so funny. I really like her.”

“Yeah, she’s my favorite. After Patrick, of course.”

“Of course. Liam seems nice. We haven’t spoken that much though. I can’t get a read on the older brothers.”

“Hmmm, Tommy and Kellam. I never really had a chance to get to know them that well. They were already grown and out the house when we were growing up. Has anyone mentioned Charlotte yet?”

“Not really and it’s so weird. It’s like you would think someone would ask where she’s at or if she’s coming. Aside from Cate asking if I’d met her, it’s like she doesn’t exist.”

“Well, according to my mother, Theresa’s in denial. She really believes that Charlotte is just extremely busy with school. That’s how she is, though. She likes to put a nice shine on shit, as my father used to say. For instance, this whole thing with Maggie and her husband—she insists that it’s no big deal, but everyone has seen him around town with another woman, a younger one at that.”

“You are too much!”

“I am a journalist, you know. It’s in my blood. Now come on, let’s get back in there before they miss us.”

As we made our way back inside, I asked myself why I hadn’t admitted to Paul the arctic chill I felt from Patrick’s mother. By the time we sat down to eat I’d decided that gossiping about the family was one thing, but admitting that Mrs. Murphy didn’t care for me was another entirely. I didn’t even want to admit the possibility to myself, and was holding out hope that it was all my over-active imagination. 

Sitting between Patrick and Paul at dinner I didn’t have time to give it further thought. The meal was wonderful; lots of traditional Irish dishes I’d never heard of, like colcannon, oyster stuffing, and black pudding, plus the traditional Thanksgiving fare. My earlier impressions seemed to hold true; Cate was still the funniest and most easygoing, followed by Liam, who offered to give Patrick and me a ride home as he had plans to meet some friends in the city later that evening.

“It’s a shame Charlotte couldn’t make it.” Patrick’s mother said. “I suppose school is keeping her quite busy.”

I could feel Patrick tense next to me as he looked down the table at his parents; his mother was transfixed on her plate and Mr. Murphy had reached over to place a hand on her shoulder. Everyone else at the table seemed to be occupied with the food on their plates as well. No one was willing to point out the obvious: no matter how busy Charlotte might be with school, it was Thanksgiving break and she should have been there.

Once the subject was changed and the conversation could drown out what he was saying, Paul leaned over and whispered, “Denial flows at this table more than the gravy.”

He wasn’t kidding. Patrick seemed to have lost his appetite and I knew he was worrying about the news he had to break regarding Charlotte. I reached under the table and held his hand. He squeezed mine in return and smiled. It was a nice moment totally ruined by the strained look on Mrs. Murphy’s face as she noticed.

After dinner most everyone gathered in the family room to watch the home videos of Thomas’s most recent vacation with his wife and son. Paul’s mother had decided she was ready to call it an evening and asked Paul if he’d mind driving her home.

“Chloe, want to ride with me? It may give Patrick a chance to talk about that which remains unspoken, if you know what I mean.”

I excused myself to find Patrick to let him know I’d be leaving. Just as I was about to enter the kitchen, hearing my own name made me pause.

“So, you don’t like Chloe?” I heard Patrick ask. His voice sounded tense.

“It’s not that I don’t like her. I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell us she was… African American,” his mother said.

“Because I didn’t think it would matter. Does it?”

I knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help it. They were talking about me, so I justified to myself that it somewhat acceptable.

“Of course it matters.” Her answer shocked not only me, but Patrick as well as I heard him gasp.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m being realistic. Stop looking at me like I’m some kind of… racist.”

“You said it, not me.”

“Patrick! What has gotten into you? Since when do you talk to me that way?”

“Since I come home with my girlfriend, who happens to be an amazing girl, and you feel the need to pull me in the kitchen and ask if I’d considered the consequences of such an inappropriate relationship. That is how you put it, isn’t it? Inappropriate relationship?”

“If you would just let me explain. I’m sure she’s a nice girl. It’s just I want the best for you and—“

“Chloe is the best.”

My heart soared, but I wanted Patrick to let her finish.

“—and her being… may cause you both unnecessary trouble. I mean, I just don’t understand why you’d put yourself through that.”

“Because she’s worth it, and besides, times have changed. I don’t know if you heard, but there was this little thing called the civil rights movement.”

“Fine! I’m glad you’re having fun with this and making a joke out of my concerns.”

“That’s because they’re ridiculous. Does Dad share these concerns?”

“Oh, you know your father. He’s a romantic. He doesn’t realize that people will think—”

“What will people think? What? That I have a girlfriend who’s smart, sexy, funny, beautiful, and good to me? Yeah, I can see how that would worry you.”

“Okay, Mr. Wise Guy. What about your children? Have you thought about that?”

I suppressed a laugh, but Patrick was unable. “Mom! Are you serious? We just started dating.”

“You live with her, Patrick.”

“That came first, you know that. We didn’t expect for it to happen. You can’t help who you fall for.”

“You’re in love with her?”

I could hear Mrs. Murphy’s sharp intake of breath. It wouldn’t have been surprising to find she’d sucked all of the air out of the room.

“I don’t know. I could be. Do you need to sit down?”

“I just want you to be careful and to be sure. I love you, and life is hard enough without adding extra obstacles. I want you to be happy.”

“Chloe is not an obstacle.” I could hear Patrick take a deep breath. “If anything she has made it easier for me to deal with things. You have no idea.”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“Well, for one thing I’m not the child you need to be worried about.”

“What does that mean?”

“We need to talk. All of us.”

I didn’t need to hear any more. I made my way back to the family room to inform Paul I’d be more than happy to take the ride with him. I had a feeling Patrick and his family wouldn’t even notice I’d gone.

Chapter One

Shining Moments

Patrick

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t love me.”

“I don’t love you.”

“You’re lying. You can’t just turn it off. You can’t just flick a switch and suddenly not love someone. When we were at our best, we were like fire. You don’t just turn that off overnight.”

“This isn’t overnight. You know that. You just won’t admit it—”

“What? Is it your family? Your mother is making you do this, isn’t she? What has she threatened you with this time?”

“It’s not my mother. It’s not my family. It’s me. My feelings have changed. I’ve changed. Since the accident I’ve become a different man.”

“No. I refuse to believe it. You’re still the same man. Somewhere inside there is the man I love, the man who loves me. I… I… have no idea what my next line is.”

“Cut!”

“I’m sorry, Patrick.”

“No worries.”

I smiled at my co-star, Jenni Freeman, who played Carly Buchanan on
Shining Moments
. We’d been shooting scenes together for a few weeks and it wasn’t like Jenni to forget her lines this often in one day, but we’d also been working since six in the morning. It was now after five and everyone was ready to call it a day.

“Sorry, guys,” Jenni said, turning towards the crew and our director, Mick, who’d just called cut on the scene.

“What do you say we call it a wrap for you two? We can pick this up first thing tomorrow. You both have a five a.m. call time, correct?” Mick asked, consulting his iPad.

Jenni and I both nodded in agreement. Early morning call times were old hat to me now that I’d been working on the show for almost a full month. I didn’t mind one bit. I was working. I was an actor. And that was all that mattered. As I walked towards my dressing room—past Stages Four and Five and several makeup rooms—I smiled at the photos lining the walls. They were framed glossy headshots of the show’s cast members. There were veterans; actors who’d been on the show back when I was in diapers and there were Emmy winners, fan favorites, and icons. Now I was their peer, and it felt amazing.

My suitemate, a young black actor named Damien Yates, was resting on one of the sofas when I entered the room. He had an open script tented across his chest and was looking up at the ceiling, softly reciting lines. Not wanting to disturb him I quietly made my way to the mini fridge and grabbed a bottle of water.

“Hey, man. New scripts should be here soon.” Damien sat up, tossing his script on the sofa cushion next to him.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” I said, dropping into the recliner on my side of the dressing room.

“I was done. I got four pages of dialog in this one. If I don’t know it by now…”

“Yeah. I’m trying to get used to how fast it all moves.”

We shot each episode weeks in advance, but still only had a little more than one week to learn new lines. It was definitely a lot more fast-paced than theatre or commercials, but it was also more rewarding.

“We get a bad rap with the cheesy storylines and all, but you don’t appreciate how much work soaps are until you’re in it.”

He wasn’t lying. In just one month I’d already pushed myself further than I ever had as an actor. Sure, sometimes the storylines were a bit over the top—rumor had it a killer robot story had been nixed by producers shortly before I was hired—but there was no denying that as an actor I was challenged and I’d never felt more proud of my decision to enter into the profession.

“Damien to stage one. Damien, you’re needed on stage one.”

Damien rose and stretched. “Well, that’s me. You done for the day?”

“Yeah, just about to change and head out.”

“Lucky you. I’m off tomorrow so I guess I won’t see you before the party, huh?”

Christmas was a little more than a week away and one of our producers was hosting a holiday party at his penthouse apartment. The whole cast and crew had been invited.

“I’ll be there.” I replied as Damien clutched his script, waved, and headed out for Stage One.

I took a quick shower in the private bath attached to our dressing room, then placed the wardrobe I’d worn for the scene in a canvas laundry bag with the show’s name and logo on it. After changing into my own clothes I went to the phone on my desk and dialed the extension for the wardrobe department. They’d send an intern to pick up my laundry bag and mark the items as returned. When I arrived tomorrow morning, the same outfit would be cleaned and ready for me to continue the scene.

I’d done very little to make my side of the spacious dressing room my own. There was a picture of Chloe, and the card that had accompanied flowers she sent my first day on the desk. I had a few changes of clothes hanging in my closet and that was about it. I’d joked to Chloe that my reluctance to make myself at home was indicative of the fact that it was still all a bit too good to be true, and that maybe I was afraid it would all be taken away. She assured me, while straddling me with her long legs on the sofa at home, that I had nothing to worry about.

“You’re amazing. That’s why you got the job.” Looking at her confident smile as she wore my tee shirt and a pair of my boxers I felt like the luckiest and most confident man in the world. My cell phone vibrated on my desk, pushing me back to the present.

It was Tara, my sister Charlotte’s dormitory roommate.

“Hi, Patrick. She was just here, but she left before I could call you.”

“Where did she go?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I tried to get her to stick around, like you said, but she just grabbed some clothes and said she’d be back in a few days. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m working tomorrow, but in case she comes back, you have my dad’s number, right? And my brother’s?”

“Yup. I programmed them in my phone. If I see her or hear from her, I’ll call again.”

I thanked her and disconnected the call. I wanted nothing more than to get home to Chloe, but I decided to call my father first. Chloe had been so supportive while I dealt with this family drama, but I felt she deserved a night off from hearing about it. When I got home I wanted to give her my full attention. My father answered on the first ring.

“Charlotte’s roommate just called. She was there, but left almost immediately.”

He sighed deeply. “At least we know she’s alive. Thomas was going to be there today, but he had to work.”

My father and my brother Thomas had been taking turns staking out her dorm building, hoping to corner Charlotte into a conversation. I wasn’t so sure that was the best course of action. I’d seen her on Thanksgiving Day; they hadn’t. A forced confrontation would cause Charlotte to lash out and then retreat, but I understood that my family felt like they had to do something and she’d left us few options.

“The resident assistant finally called me back. She was able to get Orbit’s off-campus address from another student. We were thinking we might head over there tomorrow.” My father paused. “Can you come?”

“I can’t. I’m shooting tomorrow and—”

“That’s fine, son. You’ve already done so much. Dealing with this all on your own. Your mom and I, we’re so sorry about that.”

“Dad, I told you to stop apologizing. How is mom?”

“The same. When she’s not at the church she spends a lot of time in her office.”

“Is she still mad at me?”

“She’s not mad at you, Patrick. She’s just… disappointed. In everything. She said you accused her of being a racist.”

“That’s not entirely accurate, but she doesn’t approve of my girlfriend because she’s black.”

“Chloe is lovely—”

“Exactly. She is. And that should be all that matters.”

“Son, life is never simple. It’s hard and it’s complicated, and it will knock you on your ass more times than you can count. Your mother is just worried that you’re opening yourself up to hardship. It’s what parents do. One day you’ll understand.”

This wasn’t the conversation I’d planned on having. My relationship wasn’t what they needed to concern themselves with. I felt childish even bringing it up. It was best for everyone if the family focused on the real crisis.

There was a knock on my dressing room’s door. “Dad, I have to go. I’m at the studio. Will you call me tomorrow and let me know how it goes?”

“Of course.”

I answered the door and took my new script from the production assistant. I thanked her and, before I could shut the door, an intern arrived to retrieve my laundry bag. Left with nothing else to do, I headed home.

After a
quick nod to the security guard at the front desk, I braced myself for the cold as I pushed open the door with my shoulder. Some days there would be fans outside the studio hoping to catch a glimpse of their favorite actors, or maybe score an autograph and photo. Not this night. Christmas was around the corner so it was safe to assume people had better things to do. Besides, it was ridiculously cold, so much so that I opted for a cab instead of the short walk to our apartment.

***

The next night I was in another cab, headed to Jay Robeson’s party. Robeson had been a producer on
Shining Moments
for over twenty-five years. His annual holiday party was a tradition highly anticipated by the entire cast and crew.

“You okay?”

Chloe, seated next to me, placed a hand on my thigh. I covered her hand with my own and gave it a squeeze. I wasn’t okay, but I refused to ruin our night out with talk of Charlotte or my mother’s objections to our relationship. I didn’t even know how I would bring up the latter to Chloe.

“I’m great.” I leaned over and kissed Chloe’s neck. She smelled delicious and looked even better. “I’m looking forward to showing you off tonight.”

“Mmmm. Good thing I feel like being shown off.”

She wasn’t kidding. Under her black fur-lined trench she wore a red dress that looked like it was made for sin. I watched as she crossed her lean legs.

“You look beautiful.” I kissed her again, this time on those full, soft lips.

“Keep that up and I’ll tell the driver to turn around and take us back home.”

“Fine with me,” I said, slipping a hand between her thighs. Chloe uncrossed her legs in response, but sighed.

“Too late.”

We’d arrived at the swanky apartment building overlooking Central Park. A doorman assisted Chloe out of the cab and we made our way to the top floor. The apartment was what you would expect from that neighborhood: two stories, immaculate hardwood floors, high ceilings, an amazing view of the park, and expensive art lining the walls. Our host had hired wait staff for the event and, after our coats were taken, champagne flutes were placed in our hands. The apartment was abuzz with conversation, laughter, and instrumental holiday music.

I introduced Chloe to the cast mates and crew that were in attendance. Many men gave Chloe a few appreciative glances that made my chest swell. We were standing under mistletoe when I took Chloe’s hand and asked, “Am I the luckiest guy in the room or what?”

“Damn right you are,” she responded. We kissed and broke apart, smiling like fools. I looked towards the entrance at the exact moment Kelly walked in. Her eyes scanned the room and settled on Chloe and me. With a cat-like grin she headed our way.