manipulative as ever, pretending to offer what she most yearned for in order to get what he coveted for himself.
The storm raged outside; a fiercer storm raged inside.
Her sham of a marriage was over, and there’d be no friendly divorce. No Bruce and Demi. This public humiliation would be so much worse than the first time. And she didn’t care. Her years of posing and posturing had ended. She’d never be spunky Scooter Brown, the girl who could bounce back from any adversity with a smile and a wisecrack. She was a real woman who’d been betrayed.
And this time she’d have her revenge.
Once Bram was able to move again, he staggered down to the sand and threw himself in the ocean. Oblivious to the angry waves and dark undertow, he prayed for the water to wash away his sins. He dove under a wave, came up, and dove under again. All his life he’d hustled and manipulated, but he’d never done anything as wicked as what he’d just tried to put over on the person who least deserved it.
He saw the wave right before it hit him, a looming tower of water. It crashed on top of him and flipped him over. He twisted, pitched, floated for an instant, then flipped again. Sand scraped his elbow, then something sharp bit into his leg. He lost his bearings. His lungs burned. The current caught him and pulled him-up, down, he didn’t know-the selfish current, following its own course without sparing a thought for its victim.
He broke through the surface, glimpsed the shore, then got sucked beneath again by the undertow. She’d become his conscience, his mistress, his guardian angel, his best friend. She’d become his love.
His body shot toward the light-a shimmering glow visible only in his head. He gasped for air, went under, plunged to the bottom. He loved her.
The current caught him and tossed him again, a useless scrap of human flotsam whose life’s mission had been to please only himself.
The image of her face came to him, swept him up, seized him, and dragged him until his feet touched bottom. His elbow was bleeding, his leg, his heart. He staggered to shore and collapsed in the sand.
Chapter 26
She’d locked the doors against him. He felt as if his skin had peeled off, the beautiful facade he’d hidden behind ripped away to reveal all the ugliness beneath. He stumbled back to the beach, pulling off his sodden T-shirt and pressing it to his bloody elbow. He located his car keys in the sand, but Trev’s house key had been on a separate ring and was nowhere to be found. After a last futile attempt to get Georgie to answer the door, he gave up.
The paps had disappeared. Shivering and bleeding, he made his way to his car and started the long drive back home through the storm. He couldn’t imagine how he’d be able to make her understand what had just happened. She’d never believe him. And why should she? He’d even turned her desire for a baby into a bargaining chip.
The full extent of this disaster he’d brought on himself made it hard to breathe. What the hell had he done, and how was he going to fix it? Not with another phone message, that was for sure.
But after he got home, he couldn’t stop himself, and when her voice mail picked up, he let it all spill out. “Georgie, I love you. Not the way I said earlier, but really. I know it doesn’t seem that way, but I didn’t understand like I do now…” He rambled on, mixing up his words, his thoughts, trying to get it all out and failing miserably, knowing he’d only made everything worse.
Georgie listened to every syllable of his message, every lie. The words burned into her flesh, leaving bleeding tattoos behind. Her fury was boundless. She would make him pay. He’d taken away what she wanted most, and now she’d do the same to him.
That evening, after Bram was cleaned up and more clearheaded, he drove back to Malibu. The paps must have believed he was still at the beach because no SUVs loitered at the end of his driveway. He’d decided to break down the door if she wouldn’t let him in the house, although he doubted that would soften her heart. Along the way, he bought her flowers, as if a couple dozen roses would make a difference, then stopped to pick up mangoes because he remembered she liked them. He also bought her a snow-white teddy bear holding a red heart in its paws, but as he left the store, he realized that was the kind of thing junior high kids did, and he stuffed it in the trash.
As it turned out, the house was dark and her car missing from the garage. He waited around for a while, hoping she’d come back, suspecting she wouldn’t. Eventually he headed for Santa Monica, his car still full of flowers and mangoes.
When he arrived at Paul’s town house, he futilely scanned the street for Georgie’s car. The last person he wanted to face was his father-in-law, and he thought about turning around, but Paul was his best shot at getting to Georgie.
He hadn’t seen him since the night of the wedding party, and the visible hostility on his face as he answered the door eradicated any hope Bram might have been harboring that Paul would help him out. Paul’s lips thinned as he gave Bram the once-over. “The golden boy looks a little under the weather.”
“Yeah, well, it’s been a rainy day. A rainy month.”
He waited for the door to slam in his face and was stunned when Paul let him in. “Want a drink?”
Bram wanted a drink too much, a sure sign that he couldn’t risk having one. “You got any coffee?”
“I’ll dig some up.”
As Bram followed Paul into the kitchen, he couldn’t figure out what to do with his hands. They felt too big for his body, as if they didn’t belong to him. “Have you seen Georgie?” he finally managed.
“You’re her husband. You’re supposed to keep track of her.”
“Yeah, well…”
Paul turned on the water faucet. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m guessing you already know.”
“Tell me anyway.”
And Bram did. While the coffee brewed, he began by telling Paul about Las Vegas, only to learn that Georgie had already filled him in.
“I also know Georgie went to Mexico because she thought she was getting too attached to you.” Paul pulled a bright orange mug from the cupboard.
“Believe me,” Bram said bitterly, “that’s not a problem now. What else did she tell you?”
“I know about the audition tape, and I know she turned the part down.”
“It’s crazy, Paul. She was amazing.” He rubbed his eyes. “We’ve all underestimated her. We fell into the same trap as the public, only wanting her to play variations of Scooter. I’ll send you a copy of the tape so you can see for yourself.”
“If Georgie wants me to see it, she’ll let me know.”
“It must be nice to have the luxury of being noble.”
“You should try it sometime.” Paul filled the mug and passed it over. “Tell me the rest.”
Bram described his visit from Rory and everyone’s reaction to Georgie’s withdrawal. “They know I’m responsible, they want her in the film, and they expect me to fix this.”
“Not a good position for a new producer to be in.”
He couldn’t contain himself. He began pacing the kitchen, making awkward ovals as he told Paul the rest-his trip to Mexico, the lie about Jade, and then the worst, what he’d said to her today. He let it spill out, omitting only the detail about the baby, not because he was trying to protect himself-he was long past that-but because Georgie’s desire for a child was her own secret to reveal.
“So let me get this straight,” Paul said, an ominous note in his voice. “You lied to my daughter about Jade. Then you tried to manipulate her by pretending you were in love with her. After she threw you out, you magically realized you really do love her, and now you want me to help you convince her of that.”
Bram slumped onto a bar stool at the counter. “I’m so fucked.”
“I’d say.”
“Do you know where she is?”
“Yes, and I’m not telling you.”
