Sins of the Flesh (24 page)

Rajean whirled around, stumbling against the bed, her eyes on the colorful flowers all about the room. As soon as she took the Benzedrine she would get rid of them. Teddie would never believe she had another lover who would send her a ton of flowers. She'd made a fool of herself.

On hands and knees, Rajean crawled around to the side of the bed, doing her best to fight the blanket of sleep that threatened to engulf her. By sheer will alone she searched until she was sure she had the right pill bottle in her hand, then tossed a handful of Benzedrine pills into her mouth. Grasping the pitcher of water on the night table, she raised her head and slurped.

She was on the floor now, at the foot of the bed, flower baskets all around her, the designer nightgown hiked up around her thighs. Strange mewing sounds escaped her lips.

“Daniel, take me home, I'm sorry. I didn't…I'm sooooo sorry, Daniel. I need you, Daniel,” she cried.

Twenty minutes later Rajean's eyes popped open and her head snapped backward. She was on her feet now, walking jerkily about the room, touching this and that, trying to straighten things and making even more of a mess. Catching sight of her reflection in the floor-length mirror, she started to cry again, the same sick, mewing sounds as before. Everywhere she looked there were flowers, more on the floor than in the baskets now. How had that happened, she wondered. The hotel manager was going to have a fit. Well, let him have a fit, she didn't care. Love Everlasting, she snorted. Love never lasted. There was no such thing as love. Love was a game. One person gave and gave and gave and the other one took and took and took. “All my pride, all my self-esteem, all my money, all my emotions, and all of my conscience. Teddie St. Claire, I hate your guts! Daniel, I need you, Daniel,” she moaned.

What time was it? Teddie should have been here by now. Rajean jerked her way to the dresser, her arms puppetlike as she reached for her watch. Quarter past midnight. Teddie wasn't coming. Daniel wasn't coming. No one was coming.

“The hell with all of you!” Rajean screeched as she reached for the sleeping pills. If no one was coming, she might as well go to sleep. She downed three of the tablets and crawled into bed. “You can all go to hell,” she muttered as she drifted into a drug-induced sleep.

At twenty minutes of two, Tedra St. Claire sashayed through the door Rajean had left open for her, her jaw dropping in shock. Her eyes began to water immediately with the thick, choking smell of the flowers and burning candles. She plucked a card from a luscious arrangement of pink roses. “Who the fuck is L. E.?” she muttered.

She looked around the room, her narrowed eyes taking in the half-empty gin bottle, the pill bottles, the strewn flowers, the messy bed. Then she saw Rajean sprawled across the bed, her nightgown on backward. “Must have been a hell of an orgy,” she said, slipping out of her coat as she approached the bed. “I'm sorry I missed it.”

She sat down next to Rajean and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Rajean, darling, wake up, Teddie's here, darling. I'm sooo sorry I'm late. I see that it doesn't matter; obviously you had…other things to do and didn't miss me at all. I am so disappointed, darling. Rajean, wake up. Come on, Rajean,” she called harshly, forgetting to sound loving and concerned. “Where the hell is my fucking present?”

Teddie was strong, muscular actually, and regularly worked out with weights, but Rajean's inert figure was almost more than she could handle. She was angry with herself even for coming to the hotel, and she wasn't leaving until she had her present. If there was one thing Teddie hated, it was a woman who couldn't handle her liquor or her drugs.

“Dammit, Rajean, wake up, I want to talk to you!” Teddie snarled. How had she ever allowed herself to get involved with this stupid woman? Abruptly she poured the contents of the ice bucket all over Rajean's head. The moment Rajean started to sputter and struggle to wakefulness, Teddie yanked her upright with one hand. “I thought you were going to wait for me. Shame on you, Rajean, after all we've meant to each other.”

“What time is it?” Rajean asked thickly.

“After midnight. What a beautiful gown,” Teddie said, fingering the soft material. It must have cost a fortune. I hope he or she was worth it. “Darling, who is L. E.?”

“Love Everlasting,” Rajean said, flopping back against the pillows.

“How…cute,” Teddie drawled. “Male or female?”

“Does it matter?” Rajean responded groggily.

“I thought we were as…one. The present you mentioned is my good-bye gift, is that it?”

“It's on the dresser. Lock the door on your way out.”

“No, no, darling, I don't accept any tacky gifts. Where's the
real
present?” Teddie cooed, searching in Rajean's shopping bags.

“Don't you dare go through my things!” Rajean cried as she tried to make her arms and legs work.

“Oooooh, how absolutely stunning!” Teddie exclaimed, having unwrapped the Tiffany's gift box. “You have such exquisite taste. Thank you so much. I can't believe you'd give me such a generous good-bye gift. I'll treasure it, darling, forever and ever and ever.” She leaned over and brushed her lips against Rajean's cheek. “Poor darling, you look so…tired. Here, sweetie, take these pills and you'll sleep like a baby. Sorry, I used all the water, so you'll have to take them with gin. You're going to sleep like a log if you don't die first from all these flowers. Sleep now, darling, and I'll stay right here with you until you're fast asleep. It's the least I can do for you for this wonderful gift. Teddie loves you,” she crooned over and over.

“Do you really, Teddie, do you really love me?” Rajean asked pitifully.

“Darling, you know I do, and I don't want you to forget me when you go to California. Promise me you'll send a Christmas card.” When Rajean didn't respond, Teddie pulled the spread up to her chin and smoothed out the wrinkles. How peaceful she looks, Teddie thought. She reached out to pluck a rose from the closest flower arrangement and placed it on the coverlet.

Teddie danced her way to the door, careful to lock it with the key, which she slid back under the door. Then she flipped over the
DO NOT DISTURB
card. Rajean would need her rest in the morning. Her hands caressed the crystal statue. Joyce was going to love this little trinket. “Bye, bye, Rajean,” she chirped happily.

 

Seven days later Rajean Bishop was buried in Mary Mount Cemetery on the outskirts of Washington, D.C. It was a private service attended only by Daniel, Nellie, and the detective Daniel had hired to follow his wife.

The coroner's report read: Possible cause of death, suicide. Above-normal readings of alcohol and drugs contributed to this death.

 

Daniel put the Georgetown house up for sale the day after Rajean's funeral. On the second day he set the wheels in motion to close his Washington law office. The third day was spent settling all his accounts, paying bills, and transferring his personal affairs to Los Angeles. On the fourth day he left for California with Nellie.

Neither of them looked back.

Reuben Tarz contemplated the cerulean sky from his position in the hammock, wondering if a cloud would appear anytime soon. The dazzling jewel-like sky was beginning to give him a headache, or was it his thoughts that were causing the dull ache in the back of his head? The last time he'd seen such a vast expanse of blue was in a meadow in France that was covered with bluebells. Mickey's meadow. Mickey's bluebells.

Was the brilliance overhead an omen? Possibly, since he was leaving the next day for Andrews Air Force Base, where he would be flown to England as part of
The New York Times'
s foreign news team covering the war.

Today was his to do whatever he wanted. All his good-byes had been said but one. The servants were dismissed with generous paychecks, and his sons, Philippe included, had been notified. It was the last good-bye that was bothering him; until this moment he'd more or less decided to ignore Bebe. By now she probably knew he was leaving, so what was the point in making the trip to Benedict Canyon?

Now he was annoyed, and when he was annoyed like this he argued with himself, and he always ended up doing what he didn't want to do. He owed his almost ex-wife a good-bye, not that she would care one way or the other, he told himself. But he wasn't going to argue; he was going to do it, later, after the sun went down and it got dark. This day was his to plan a new life—a life without Fairmont Studios and the power he had wielded there, it was true, but nevertheless one that carried with it an element of danger and, yes, excitement. He was almost to the halfway mark in his life, a successful man by most standards, but unhappy for all that. Now he was going back to France, to find Mickey and set things straight, twenty years after the fact.

Reuben laced his hands behind his head. The years hadn't dulled his memories of Mickey; if anything, they were sharper than ever. How beautiful she'd been, how loving—and so very lusty. Older, yes, but that hadn't made one bit of difference to him then. How would she look now, he wondered. Daniel had said she was the same, still as beautiful. His heart began to pound as he tried to envision their first meeting. That is, he thought dismally, providing I can find her. Now that the time to leave was drawing near, he was starting to realize the enormity of the task he'd set for himself. It had been pointed out to him by his friends at the
Times
that he could lose his life. But he was adamant—right or wrong, he was going, and that's all there was to it.

Reuben's eyes fell on the notepad on the glass-topped table, the journal he was planning to keep for his…memoirs. The story of his life, from the beginning, of course, from his first meeting with Daniel and up through the present with this war in progress. It would be a tale of friendship, of love, of success and failure. Perhaps it might even make a fairly decent script for a film. Of course any story, any film, had to have a beginning, a middle, and an end. Yes, yes, yes, and there would be an end; that's what this trip was all about. But could he get it all down on paper? The acid test. He had to do it, not just for himself, but for everyone involved.

Reuben gazed out over the wide expanse of apple-green lawn. A sparrow sailed gracefully from its perch to light in one of the flower beds. Immediately it began to search for worms. There was a nest high overhead; Reuben had seen it from his bedroom window. The feeders and birdbaths he'd set out were used constantly by the winged inhabitants of his yard. He made a mental note to load the feeder. How would the birds manage while he was gone, he wondered. They would survive; after all, they were creatures of the outdoors. Feeders and birdbaths just made things a little easier.

This…thing he was considering, his memoirs, if done right could ace Selznick's
Gone With the Wind
and reap huge box-office rewards. It would have everything
Wind
had, even more, except the fire. For Christ's sake, he had two wars going for him, and a love affair that spanned twenty years. Women were addicted to love stories and handsome actors. And according to box-office receipts, women were also the principal moviegoers.

So, he asked himself for the hundredth time, is this why you're going to France, to find the ending to your story? You could make one up, he argued with himself. It wouldn't be the same. I want it to be factual. So factual you could die over there and it won't get finished. I have to try, I owe…I owe so much. I have to put back, pay back somehow….

And exposing Mickey, not to mention everyone else, to the public will be acceptable to everyone? You can't please everyone. It's what's best for the majority, in the final analysis. The box office is the ultimate test. But you don't work at the studio anymore. That's true. There are other studios, other actors beside the ones at Fairmont. Jane might like it enough to want to produce it. But what about Philippe and Bebe? They control the studio, they call the shots, Jane works for them. “I'll find a way,” Reuben muttered.

Reuben jammed his hands into his pockets and started down the flagstone steps. He walked quietly so as not to startle the bathing birds. He grinned. “It's okay, ladies,” he said, turning his head. For Christ's sake, Daniel's trip to France while the war was going on would be so stupendous, the public would gobble it up and beg for more. He was a filmmaker, and he knew what the public wanted and didn't want, and he knew they were just waiting to sink their teeth into this one. As soon as he had an ending.

“You are a son of a bitch, a real bastard. You'd go to these lengths just to come out on top,” his other self picked up on the previous argument. “Yeah, if that's what it takes, then that's what I'm doing. I don't want any more argument from you. I've thought this through, I've planned it, and I'm going ahead with it. Enough!” he roared to his conscience. Startled birds took wing, their feathers rustling with indignation as they lighted in the branches of the trees.

His thoughts beginning to race along the corridors of his past, Reuben stared down at the blank pad. Already he itched to put words on paper, but it wouldn't be real if he started now. No, he had to begin on the plane and then whenever he had a few moments to scribble. If this was going to work, it had to be authentic, from word one.

Reuben stared at the notepad so long, he grew drowsy, his thoughts far away, not in France this time, but in Benedict Canyon. He was tempted to go into the house and call the studio to see if Bebe had taken over yet. Some instinct told him she hadn't, that she was waiting for him to leave first. This pleased him, it meant she wasn't the vulture she used to be, waiting to pick at his bones.

What was he going to say to her this one last time? Make apologies, explanations? Ask her to be more generous than he deserved in forgiving him? “You had it all, the whole ball of wax, and you didn't know what to do with it,” he muttered. To kill his thoughts Reuben allowed himself to drift into sleep, where only nightmarish demons prevailed. Those kinds of demons he could deal with in the bright light of day.

The sun inched its way across the blue sky, fluffy white clouds in its wake. Orange blossoms fluttered downward, some of them settling on Reuben's sleeping shoulders; birds flitted close at hand, eyeing the still form in the chaise longue. Reuben slept deeply and peacefully, so deeply he remained unaware of the steady progression of people coming to visit him for one more good-bye.

Philippe was the first, his dark eyes full of sadness and fear. He wanted to shake his father awake, wanted to confide every emotion he'd ever felt and confess that he didn't hate him, had never hated him. More than anything he wanted to tell his father that he'd work night and day at the studio, alongside his mother, to keep it going and preserve the reputation it had maintained all these years. There were so many things unsaid, so many apologies unspoken. The need to touch his father was so strong, Philippe clenched his trembling hands into fists. How was it possible the sleeping man didn't feel his presence?

He walked a little closer, his quiet steps disturbing the birds clustered around the feeder, and bent down to whisper in his father's ear. “I forgive you, Papa. Au revoir.” He cried then, all the tears he'd harbored since the age of twelve, tears of bitterness, tears of love and forgiveness. His sins of pride were gone now, the door to his heart open and ready to accept whatever this new life had to offer. Then, quietly, he left.

Daniel and Jane were the next visitors to the house in Laurel Canyon. Daniel rang the bell three times and then kept his finger pressed to the bell for several moments. At last he turned to Jane, his eyes full of worry. “He said he was going to stay home today and do nothing. I can't let him go like this without saying…something.”

Jane's voice was soft and soothing. “We shouldn't have come here, Daniel. We said our good-byes yesterday. Reuben wants it this way. We should respect his wishes. I know it's hard for you, but if this is what Reuben wants…”

Daniel's voice was agonized. “This is so…he should have done this years ago. Why now? The war is…this isn't the time to go to Europe. He's always listened to my advice before. This time…this time I couldn't reach him. I know he heard me, heard the words, but…Jane…”

“I know what Reuben means to you, and that special feeling you have for him, that love, is the reason you have to let him go,” Jane said quietly. “All these years you've been his friend, his confidant, his conscience. It's time to let Reuben be Reuben. He has to do this, he has to go in order to live. You should understand that. Your reasoning is selfish, Daniel. It can't be happily ever after for Reuben until he puts his life in order. I for one am glad he's finally going to do this, and yes, the timing is…incredibly bad. Perhaps this is precisely why he chose this particular time. It's taken the war and Philippe's arrival to…to make this decision. Daniel…”

Daniel turned to the pretty woman at his side. The worry left him as he stared into her warm, concerned eyes. What he was seeing was for him, not for Reuben. “When and how did you get so smart?” he asked, marveling.

Jane flushed, her thoughts scattering at what she saw in Daniel's face. Her heart skipped a beat and then fluttered wildly in her chest. It had been a long time since anyone looked at her this way. Her voice was unsteady, girlish. “I'm sorry, what was the question again?”

“I said when and how did you get so smart?”

Jane laughed self-consciously. “I like to think the people I care about deserve more than a passing thought. I think the reason Reuben and I have remained good friends all these years is that neither one of us trespassed on the other's private life unless asked.”

Daniel smiled at her in obvious approval. His touch was possessive when he took her arm to lead her around to the gate at the rear of Reuben's property. “I need to do this, Jane, I need to see him again.”

Jane placed a gentle hand on Daniel's and nodded. “It's beautiful here, isn't it?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, and I'll bet you five dollars I can count on one hand the number of times Reuben has noticed how beautiful it really is. Beautiful and…lonely.”

“Look, he's sleeping in the chaise longue. Please, Daniel, don't wake him,” Jane pleaded. “I feel like I'm trespassing. Even though we both love him, there's something…something about seeing him like this…not in control, vulnerable. He wouldn't like us being here.”

“I know, but I had to see him one more time.” He closed the gate and slipped the latch back into place. “Listen, I have an idea. Let's you and me play hooky today, what d'ya say? Let's do everything you always wanted to do but never had the time for. Production won't fall apart without you for one day, and I'm still getting my feet wet. No one will even miss us. You said yourself when we came out here that things were under control. Well?”

Jane was quick to note the unhappiness in Daniel's eyes. He'd been through a lot lately. “That's a wonderful idea, Daniel,” she replied warmly. “If you hadn't suggested it, I was going to. And at the end of the day when you drop me off at my door, will you kiss me good night?” She held her breath for his answer.

“Do I have to wait till I drop you off?” he asked. “Why not here, now, right in front of Reuben's house? I hate to put off till later something that can be done right now. Pucker up, Jane Perkins.”

It was a silly, friendly kiss that spoke of many suppressed feelings, feelings that would surface and be dealt with possibly later in the evening or in the very near future.

“I wonder, Daniel, if you are the person I've been waiting for all my life, that one person I might want to share my soul with,” Jane said, and smiled at him. “I've never said that to a man before, possibly because I knew in my heart it wasn't time. Do you think I'm being forward?”

“No. I was thinking along those same lines, but I didn't quite know how to phrase it. Do you know what I've hungered for all my life? Well, let me tell you…”

 

It was almost dusk when Reuben woke. Instantly he realized he'd slept the better part of the day. He knew he had to do two things, fill the bird feeders and the birdbath and say good-bye to Bebe.

He enjoyed pouring seed into the feeders and sprinkling a few extra handfuls around the ground. The birds were sleeping now, secure in the thought that morning would arrive with food and clean water. Suddenly the birds' welfare was the most important thing in the world to him. Daniel…Daniel would come out and take care of the birds. Hell, why hadn't he thought of that before? Daniel should come here and live in the house while he was gone. He slapped at his head in annoyance. “Sometimes, Tarz, you are downright stupid,” he muttered. He'd write a note, put the key in it, and drop it off at the studio on his way home from seeing Bebe. He felt better immediately as he gazed around the peaceful garden. “I hope you guys are satisfied that I'm securing your future,” he murmured. Overhead the trees rustled softly, and he thought he heard a soft chirp in response. He smiled all the way to the shower.