What I Did for Love

wanted to struggle through life with; share triumphs and catastrophes; share holidays, birthdays, every days.

“Excellent,” her interviewer said. “I’ve finally made you cry. Just like Barbara Walters.”

Georgie turned off the camera and buried her face in her hands.

Georgie had been gone almost two weeks, and Aaron was Bram’s only source of information. Georgie’s P.A. had taken it upon himself to leak a series of fictitious stories to the tabs. He’d detailed Georgie’s decision to take a vacation while Bram worked and also served up long descriptions of romantic phone calls between the newlyweds. Aaron’s fabrications kept the press at bay, so Bram didn’t correct them.

Tree House continued to move forward without any major snarls, even though they still hadn’t finished casting. He should have been on top of the world, but he mainly wanted to look up his old drug dealer. He buried himself in work instead, to keep the devils at bay.

Chaz was waiting for him on Monday night when he got home from the studio, a new supply of cookbooks spread out on the kitchen table instead of the GED workbooks she still hadn’t opened. She jumped up as he appeared. “I’ll make a sandwich for you. A good one, with whole grain bread, turkey, and guacamole. I’ll bet all you’ve eaten today is junk.”

“I don’t want anything, and I told you not to wait up for me.”

She bustled over to the refrigerator. “It isn’t even midnight.”

Long experience had taught him the futility of arguing with Chaz about food, so even though all he wanted to do was sleep, he hung around and pretended to sift through some mail on the counter while she pulled containers from the refrigerator and filled him in on her life. “Aaron’s being a pain. He and Becky split up-they haven’t even been together three weeks. He said they’re too much alike. But that should be a good thing, right?”

“Not always.” Bram gazed blindly at a party invitation, then tossed it in the trash. He and Georgie were more alike than they were different, although it had taken him a while to figure that out.

Chaz slapped a container on the counter so hard the lip popped off. “Aaron knows where Georgie is.”

“Yeah, I know he does. So does her father.”

“You should make them tell you.”

“Why? I’m not running after her.” Besides, Bram already knew she’d gone to Cabo, thanks to a phone conversation with Trev, who was in Australia shooting his new film. Bram had thought about flying to Mexico and dragging her back, but she’d stung his pride. Bottom line-she was the one who’d left, and it was up to her to come back and make things right.

Chaz put a loaf of bread on the cutting board and began slicing it, her knife coming down with hard thwacks. “I know why you guys got married.”

He looked up.

She flipped the lid on a container of guacamole. “You should have been honest about what happened in Vegas and gotten the stupid marriage annulled or whatever. Like Britney Spears did that first time she got married.”

“How do you know what happened?”

“I overheard you and Georgie talking about it.”

“You overheard with your ear smashed against a keyhole. If you ever say anything to anybody…”

She slammed the cupboard door shut. “Is that what you think of me? That I’m some big asshole blabbermouth?”

Now he had two pissed-off females in his life, but getting back in Chaz’s good graces was relatively easy. “No, I don’t think that. Sorry.”

She chewed over his apology but eventually decided to accept it, as he’d known she would. He sat down in front of the food she’d put out. He didn’t want to end his phony marriage yet. It held too many advantages-starting with sex, which was so great he couldn’t imagine giving it up yet. Thanks to Georgie, he was back in the game, and he intended to stay there. He wanted Tree House to be the first in a string of great films, and somehow she’d become an intricate part of making that happen.

Chaz set his sandwich in front of him. “I still can’t believe she didn’t audition. She goes to all that work and then blows it off. You wouldn’t believe the way she made Aaron run around to get her a special outfit. Then she kept making me check out different hairstyles and makeup. She even made me tape her stupid audition. Then she turns chicken and runs away.”

He set down his sandwich. “You taped her audition?”

“You know how she is. She tapes everything. I probably shouldn’t say this, but if she ever made any sex tapes of you, I seriously think you should-”

“Is the tape still around?”

“I don’t know. I guess. Probably in her office.”

He started to get up, then sat back in his chair. Screw it. He knew exactly what he’d see.

But before he went to bed that night, his curiosity got the best of him, and he searched her office until he found what he was looking for.

They had their first tussle over the check. “Give it to me,” Laura said, genuinely surprised to see Paul grab the check before she could reach for it. They’d dined together more times than she could count, and she always picked up the check. “This is a business dinner. The client never pays.”

“It was a business dinner for the first hour,” Paul said. “After that, I’m not so sure.”

She fumbled for her napkin. It was true that tonight had been different. They’d never talked about their high school embarrassments before, or their mutual love of music and baseball. And he’d certainly never insisted on picking her up at her new condo. All evening, she’d been doing her best to keep things professional, but he kept sabotaging her. Something had happened. Something she needed to make un-happen as quickly as possible.

She held out her hand for the bill. “Paul, I insist. This is a well-deserved celebration. You’ve only been my client for six weeks, and you’ve landed a great part.” He’d been cast in a quirky new HBO series about a group of Vietnam, Gulf, and Iraqi War veterans who spent their weekends as Civil War reenactors.

He set his palm over the leather folder that contained the check. “I’ll give this to you. But only if next weekend’s on me.”

Had he just asked her out? She was too old for games. “Did you just ask me out?”

He tilted his head, a vaguely amused smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Did I?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I’m not thin.”

“Ahh.”

“Or blond, or elegant, or divorced from a former high-ranking studio executive. I have no time for a personal trainer, I don’t wear clothes well, and getting my hair done bores the hell out of me.” She crossed her legs. “But most of all, I’m your agent, and I’m planning to make a lot of money off your career.”

“So will you go out with me next weekend anyway?”

“No!”

“Too bad.” The waiter appeared, and Paul passed over his credit card. A director they both knew stopped at their table to chat, and by the time the valet had delivered Paul’s car, Laura assumed the subject was behind them. Paul quickly proved her wrong.

“The L.A. Chamber Orchestra is playing at Royce Hall next weekend,” he said as they drove off from the restaurant. “I think we should go. Unless you’d rather take in a Dodgers game.”

Two of her favorite activities. “I don’t get this. You’re the consummate professional. You know I can’t date a client, especially such an important client.”

“I like that ‘important’ part.”

“I mean it. You’re going to have a great career, and I want to negotiate every phase of it.”

He turned north onto Beverly Glen Boulevard. “If you weren’t my agent, would you date me?”

In a New York minute. “Probably not. We’re too different.”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because you’re cool and logical. You like order. How long has it been since you’ve forgotten to pay your cable bill or splashed wine on your clothes?” She pointed toward the small red splotch on the skirt of her silk shift. At the same time she covered up a recent snag. She wanted to make her point without looking like a total slob.

“That’s one of the things I like about you,” he said. “You get so wrapped up in a conversation you forget to pay attention to what you’re doing. You’re a good listener, Laura.”