Family album

“I dream of you, my love … and the children. I have everything I want in this world … and more.”

“Good. That's the way I always want it to be.” And he meant every word of it, as the children grew up, and time rolled on.

Ward still drank too much champagne sometimes but he was harmless and good-humored, and Faye loved him enormously, even with his occasional boyish flaws, of liking to have too much fun, or drinking a little too much. There was no harm in it.

The lawyers came to see him more than they used to do, about his parents' estate and what was left of it, but she didn't concern herself with it. It was his money after all, and she had enough to do with Lionel, Gregory, Vanessa, and Val. But she noticed around the time that the twins turned two that Ward was drinking more, and it was less champagne than scotch, which worried her.

“Anything wrong, sweetheart?”

“Of course not.” He smiled, feigning unconcern, but there was something frightened in his eyes these days and she wondered what it was. But he persisted in insisting nothing was wrong, and still the lawyers came, and often called. She wondered what they said to him. And then somehow, it all seemed less important again. The earlier decision was forgotten late one night, and in the arms of passion after going to the Academy Awards with him in April of 1951, they threw caution to the winds, and by late May, Faye was sure.

“Again?” Ward looked surprised, but not displeased, although he seemed less excited this time. He had too many other things on his mind, although he did not tell Faye that.

“Are you mad at me?” She was concerned, and he pulled her into his arms with a broad grin.

“Only if it isn't mine, you silly girl. Of course I'm not mad. How could I be mad at you?”

“Five children is an awful lot, I suppose …” She was faintly ambivalent about it this time too. The family seemed so perfect as it was. “And if I have twins again …”

“Then that'll make six! It sounds fine to me. We might even reach our original goal of ten one of these days.” But as he said it, all four of the children they had ran into the room, shrieking with excitement, falling all over each other, laughing and shouting and pulling hair, and Faye shouted over their heads at him.

“God forbid!” He smiled at her, and all went well and in January, Anne Ward Thayer was born, the smallest child Faye had borne, and she looked so tiny and frail one was almost afraid to hold her. In fact, she was so tiny and delicate that Ward refused to take her in his arms, but he seemed pleased with her. He bought Faye an enormous emerald pendant this time, but somehow he seemed less excited than he had before, and Faye told herself that she could hardly expect him to hire a brass band for their fifth child. But still, she was disappointed that he didn't seem more pleased.

But within days, she knew exactly why. The lawyers didn't even try to talk to Ward this time. They talked to her, feeling it was high time she knew what was going on…. Seven years after the end of the war, Thayer Shipyard hadn't seen a profit in almost four years. It had been running in the red for years, despite all their pleading with Ward to pay some attention to it, cut down the scale of operations, and face what was happening. They wanted him to go to work in the office at the yard, as his father had. And he had flatly refused. Instead, he had ignored their pleas and not only allowed the shipyard to run itself into the ground, but he had bankrupted the estate as well. He had insisted that he wasn't going to ruin his life by working night and day. He wanted to be with his family. And now there was nothing left, hadn't been in almost two years. And suddenly, as she sat in shocked silence listening to them, Faye looked back remembering when he had begun to seem preoccupied, concerned, drinking more, but he had never admitted anything to her. And for the past two years, without saying a word to her, he had been running on “empty.” There was no money left at all, there were only monumental debts which he had accumulated with their extravagant lifestyle. Faye Price Thayer sat listening to what they had to say, her face pale, features taut, a frown between her eyes, and she looked as though she were in shock. In a way she was. She almost staggered out of the room when they left her. And when Ward came home later that afternoon, he found her sitting upright in a chair in the library, silently waiting for him.

“Hi, babe. What are you doing downstairs so soon? Shouldn't you be resting?” Resting? Resting? How could she be resting when they had no money left, when she should be out looking for a job? All they had left were debts, and as she raised her eyes to his, he knew that something terrible had happened. “Faye? … Darling, what's wrong?” There were tears trembling in her eyes and she didn't even know where to begin. The tears spilled onto her cheeks and she began to sob. How could he have played this game? What was he thinking of? When she thought of all the jewelry he had bought, the cars, furs, the house in Palm Springs, the polo ponies … it went on forever … and God only knew how bad the debts were. “Darling, what is it?” He knelt beside her and all she could do was sob, until finally she took a deep breath and gently touched his face with her hand. How could she hate this man? She had never faced it until now, but he was only a child, a boy pretending to be a man. At thirty-five, he was less mature than their six-year-old son. Lionel was already practical and wise … but Ward … Ward … there was the sorrow of an ended life in Faye's eyes as she attempted to calm down and talk to him about what she had heard that afternoon.

“Bill Gentry and Lawson Burford were here this afternoon, Ward.” There was nothing ominous in her voice, only sorrow, for him and for all of them, and Ward looked instantly annoyed. He spun around and walked to the bar, and poured himself a stiff drink. He'd had fun that afternoon, until now. He glanced over his shoulder at his wife, searching her eyes.

“Don't let those two upset you, Faye. They're both a pain in the ass. What did they want?”

“To talk some sense into you, I guess.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” He looked nervously at her as he sat down in a chair. “What did they say?”

“They told me everything, Ward.” His face went white, as hers had hours before. “They told me that you don't have a dime left. The shipyard has to be closed down, this house has to be sold to pay our debts … everything's going to have to change, Ward. We're going to have to grow up and stop pretending we live in a fairy land and aren't subject to the same pressures as everyone else in the world.” The only difference between them and everyone else was that he'd never worked a day in his life and they had five children to support. If only she had known. She would never have had this last child. She didn't even feel guilty for the thought, no matter how sweet the new baby was. Their very lives were at stake right now, and she knew in her gut that Ward wasn't going to do a damn thing about it. He wasn't capable of it, but she was. And if he couldn't row the boat to shore, then she would, and that's all there was to it. “Ward … we have to talk about this …”

He jumped up and stalked across the room. “Some other time, Faye. I'm tired.” She leapt to her feet, not caring how weak she still felt. All of that was forgotten now. That was a luxury. Another luxury they could no longer afford.

“Dammit! Listen to me! How long are you going to play games with me? Until they put you in jail for bad debts? Until they throw us out of this house? According to Lawson and Bill, we don't have a penny left. Or damn few, anyway.” They had been brutally honest with her. They would have to sell everything they had just to pay their debts. And then what? That was the question she was asking herself.

Ward stood and faced her then. “And what do you suggest I do about it, Faye? Start selling my cars? Put the children to work?” He looked horrified, his world was coming down around his ears and he was equipped for no other way of life than this.

“We have to face reality, no matter how frightening it is.” She walked slowly to him then, her eyes alight with green fire, but she wasn't angry at him. She had thought of it all afternoon, and she understood how he was, but she couldn't let him pretend to himself anymore, or to her. He had to face the changes that had to be made. “We have to do something, Ward.”

“Like what?” He slumped slowly into a chair like a deflated balloon. He had thought about it before, and it was beyond his ken. Maybe he had been wrong to keep it from her, but how could he possibly tell her how desperate things were. He never had the heart. So he always bought her a new piece of jewelry instead, and the stupid thing was that he knew she didn't really care about those things. She loved the children and him … she did love him, didn't she? That was what always frightened him about telling her. What if she walked out on him? He couldn't bear the thought. And now finally he was looking at her, and he saw hope in her eyes. She wasn't going to desert him after all and suddenly tears filled his eyes and he bent to her and buried his face in her lap, sobbing at what he had done. She stroked his hair and spoke softly to him for what seemed like hours, and when he stopped she was still there. She wasn't going to go away after all, at least not yet, but she also wasn't going to let him run away from it anymore.

“Ward, we have to sell the house.”

“But where will we go?” He sounded like a frightened child, and she smiled at him.

“We'll go someplace else. We'll fire the staff. Sell most of this expensive stuff, the rare books, my furs, my jewelry,” it pained her to think of that, only because he had given her all of it and all of it for important events in their life. She was sentimental about it, but she also knew that the jewelry was worth a great deal and they couldn't hang onto anything now. “How bad do you suppose the debts are?”

“I don't know.” His face was muffled in her thighs, and she pulled his face up to hers with her hands.

“We have to find out. Together. We're in this together, sweetheart, but now we have to bail out.”

“Do you really think we can?” It was terrifying facing it, even with her.

“I'm sure of it.” At least she told him so, but she was no longer sure of anything.

He felt relief sweep over him at the tone of her voice. Once or twice, between cases of champagne, he had actually contemplated suicide. And he knew exactly how weak he was. He was totally unprepared to face what he had to face now. Without Faye, he couldn't have faced it at all. And with her, it was hardly easier. She forced him to go to the attorneys with her the next day. The doctor had told her not to go out yet, and she totally ignored the rules. After her fifth child, she wasn't as impressed with all that as she might have been after her first, and she was not going to let Ward squirm out of it. She stood beside him all the way, but in that sense she was merciless. It had to be faced, by both of them and they did. According to the attorneys, they were three and a half million dollars in debt. She almost fainted when she heard the words, and Ward's face as he listened was a deathly chalk white. The attorneys explained that they would have to sell everything, and if they were lucky they would have a little money left, which they could invest, but they could no longer live on it as they once had. In fact, Bill Gentry looked pointedly at Ward, they would have to go to work, or at least one of them would. They wondered if Faye wanted to go back to her old career, but it had been seven years since she'd done her last film, no one asked for autographs anymore, and the papers no longer ran headlines about her as they once had. She was old news, and at thirty-two she could certainly make a comeback if she wanted to, but it wouldn't be quite the same thing, and it wasn't what she had in mind anyway. She had another idea, but it was too easy to think of that.

“What about the shipyard?” Her questions were intelligent and blunt and Ward was relieved not to have to ask. Somehow it all embarrassed him, and he desperately wanted a drink as Faye pressed on. The lawyers were firm.

“You'll have to declare bankruptcy.”

“And the house? How much do you think we'll get for that?”

“Half a million, if you find someone who falls in love with it. Realistically, probably less.”

“All right, that's a start … then we've got the house in Palm Springs …” She pulled a list out of her bag. The night before, after Ward had gone to sleep, she had made a list of absolutely everything they owned, right down to the dog. She figured that with a little luck they might collect five million dollars for everything they had. Or at least four.

“And then what?” Ward looked at her bitterly for the first time. “We dress the children in rags and go begging in the street? We have to live somewhere, Faye. We need servants, clothes, cars.”

She shook her head. “Car. Not cars. And if we can't afford that, we take the bus.” Something in his face suddenly frightened her. She wondered if he could successfully make the change. But he had to, they had no choice, and she was going to help him make it. The only thing she was not willing to give up was him.

At the end of two hours, the lawyers stood up and shook their hands, but Ward's face looked grim. He seemed to have aged ten years in the past two hours, and he hardly spoke a word as they drove home in the Duesenberg. He almost had tears in his eyes realizing that it might be the last time they went out in it.

And as they walked in the door, the baby nurse was waiting for them. Little Anne had a fever. The nurse was sure that she had caught cold from Val and she was concerned. With a distracted look, Faye went to the phone and called the doctor for her, but she didn't take the baby from her arms, and when she offered the baby to her later on, Faye waved her away with a distracted look and uncharacteristically brusque words. “I don't have time.” She had other things on her mind. “Other things” being the demise of their current way of life. The prospect of what she had in store for her was exhausting just to think about. But it had to be done, and she was the one who was going to have to do it all. Ward couldn't cope with it. She would have to do everything, and he was grateful to her when she began tackling it the next day. She called all the real estate agents in town and made appointments for them to come to see the house. She called the attorneys again, made appointments with several antiques dealers, and began to make lists of what they would keep and what they would sell. Ward watched her stupefied as she sat at her desk at noon the next day, businesslike, matter-of-fact, a frown on her face, and he shook his head, unnerved by it all.

She looked up at him, still wearing a frown, but it wasn't meant for him. “What are you doing today?”

“Having lunch at the club.” That was another thing that would have to go, all his club memberships, but she didn't say anything to him now. She merely nodded her head, and a moment later he left the room. He didn't come back until six o'clock and when he did he was in a very good mood. He had been playing backgammon all afternoon and had won nine hundred dollars from one of his friends. But what if you'd lost? Faye thought the words silently and said nothing to him, as she went upstairs quietly. She didn't want to see him playing with the twins, knowing he was drunk, knowing all that she knew now. And there was so much to do. Tomorrow she would have to begin Bring the help … they still had the cars to sell … and after everything was done here there would still be the house in Palm Springs … tears filled her eyes at the thought of it all, not so much with regret, but more with the sheer weight of it all, and the weight was entirely resting on her. There was no avoiding it. It was like a nightmare, or a very, very strange dream. In a mere twenty-four hours, their entire life had fallen apart, she could barely allow herself to think of it. If she did, she might scream. It was so strange, only days ago, her head had been filled with other things … the new baby being born … another spectacular gift from Ward. They were thinking of spending a few weeks in Palm Springs, and now suddenly it was over … forever … gone. It was totally incredible. As she walked up the stairs with a heavy heart, wondering what they would do, the nurse waylaid her again, as she had already done several times that day. But Faye had no time for the baby now. There was just too much going on. The woman in white stood at the head of the stairs looking at Faye ominously, a bottle of formula in one hand, as she clutched the newborn babe to her breast, wrapped in an embroidered pink receiving blanket Faye had bought for the twins.

“Would you like to feed the baby now, Mrs. Thayer?” The fancy British nanny stared malevolently at her, or at least that was how Faye saw her now, thinking of her salary and also of how she had attempted to make her feel guilty all day.

“I can't, Mrs. McQueen. I'm sorry …” She turned away, feeling the knife of guilt slice at her heart. “I'm too tired …” But it wasn't that. She wanted to go through her jewelry before Ward came upstairs. She had made an appointment with Frances Klein the following day, and she had to decide now what she wanted to sell to them. She knew that she would get a fair price from them. And there was no turning back now … and also no time for little Anne, poor tiny frail child. “Maybe tomorrow night,” she murmured to the nurse as she hurried to her room, averting her eyes. It would be easier if she didn't see the child, so recently sprung from her womb. And a week or two before, that was all she had to think about. But not anymore … not now … with the tears spilling from her eyes, she hurried into her room and closed the door, as Mrs. McQueen watched her go, shook her head, and headed for the nursery upstairs.

CHAPTER 6

Christie's picked up the furniture in February. They took all the significant antiques, the six sets of fine antique china Faye and Ward had bought in the last seven years, all of the crystal chandeliers, the Persian rugs. They took almost everything except the bare necessities. And Faye arranged it all so that the children would be in Palm Springs with their nurse, and she urged Ward to go away as well.

“Trying to get rid of me?” He looked at her balefully over the standard glass of champagne he always seemed to hold, except that the glasses were larger nowadays.

“You know better than that.” She sat down next to him with a sigh. She had been labeling furniture all day. Red tags for everything that went, blue for what stayed, and there wasn't much of that. She wanted to sell everything valuable they had. The simpler things they could use when they moved on. It was depressing for everyone, but it had to be faced. They were words Ward had come to hate, but she was merciless. Now that she knew the truth, she wouldn't let him hide from it anymore. She was doing everything she could to help, but she wouldn't allow him to lie to himself or to her. It was Faye who dealt directly with the lawyers now, and privately it worried her. She knew that what she was doing was, in some hidden way, emasculating him. But what could she do? Let him go on living the lie? Running up more debts? She shuddered at the thought. To her, it seemed better to face the music now, and then build a new life again. They were still young enough. They had each other, and the kids. Now and then, she was as terrified as Ward. It was like climbing a steep mountainside, but she rarely allowed herself to look down. That was another luxury they could no longer afford. They just had to move on. “I sold the carousel yesterday.” It was the only subject they talked about anymore, what had been sold, what had not. The house still hadn't moved, and it was beginning to worry her. “I sold it to a hotel, for a decent price.”

“How wonderful.” He got up suddenly and went to fill his glass again. “I'm sure the children will be thrilled with the news.”

“I can't help that.” … but you could have, she thought suddenly, and then forced the words out of her mind. It wasn't her fault that they were losing everything. But she wouldn't allow herself to blame Ward either. He had never known any other way of life. No one had taught him to be responsible. And he had always been wonderful to her. In spite of everything, she still loved the man, but sometimes it was difficult not to blame him for what was happening now. It had all been such a sham, for so long … if only she had known…. She found him staring at her, a look of despair in his eyes as he held his glass. For an instant, just an instant, she could glean what he would look like as a very old man. Most of the time, he still looked like a boy, a very handsome, debonair, carefree young man, but now suddenly, in the past two months, he seemed to have taken on the weight of the world and it was aging him. She had even noticed a few gray hairs mixed in with the blond, and there were new lines around his eyes. “Ward …” She looked across the room at him, wondering what she could say to ease the pain, to make them both better able to live with the truth. And the questions and terror roared through both their minds like trains. Where do we go from here? What do we do now? What happens when the house is sold?

“I wish I'd never dragged you into this.” He sat down, feeling sorry for himself, guilty toward her. “I had no right to marry you.” But he had wanted and needed her so desperately, especially after the war, after his first bride's death two months after marrying her … and Faye had been so remarkable. And she still was. That made it even harder now. He hated what he was doing to her.

She walked slowly to him and sat on the arm of his chair. She was thinner than she had been before Anne, thinner than she had been for years. But she was working hard these days, up at dawn, packing boxes, sorting through mountains of things. She did some of the housework herself, with one of the two remaining maids. The huge staff was reduced to two women who cooked and cleaned for all of them, the nurse who had been with the children for the past six years since Lionel was born, and the baby nurse who had been hired to care for Anne. Eventually, Faye planned to reduce their numbers further to two, but for the moment she still needed these, to help her pack up and close the house eventually. The rest of the staff was long since gone. Arthur and Elizabeth had retired tearfully some six weeks before, leaving Faye after so many years. Both chauffeurs had been fired, the majordomo, and half a dozen maids. Eventually perhaps they wouldn't need anyone at all, if they found a house that was small enough. She hadn't even begun to tackle that yet. She had to sell this one first. And Ward was letting her do it all.

“Wouldn't you rather just have a divorce?” He stared at her, his glass empty in his hand once again. But not for long. Never for long anymore.

“No.” She said it loud and clear in the half-empty room. “I would not. As I recall, the man said ‘for better or worse,’ and if things are tough right now, then okay, that's the way it is.”

“‘That's the way it is’? We have the rugs sold out from under our feet, the roof from over our heads, our lawyers are lending us money to buy food and pay the maids, and you're just going to shrug it off? And just how do you think we're going to eat after this?” He poured himself another drink, and she had to fight herself not to ask him to stop. She knew he would eventually. Everything would be normal again. One day. Maybe.

“Well figure something out, Ward. What choice do we have?”

“I don't know. I suppose you think you'll go back to your movie career, but you're no spring chicken anymore, you know.” She could tell from the way he was beginning to slur his words that he was drunk by now, but she didn't cringe at his words.

“I know that, Ward.” Her voice was painfully calm. She had been thinking about it herself for weeks. “Something will work out.”

“For who? For me?” He advanced on her menacingly, which was unlike him. But they were both under such strain that anything was possible now. “Shit, I've never worked in my whole life. What do you think I'm going to do? Get a job at Saks selling shoes to your friends?”

“Ward, please …” She turned away so he wouldn't see the tears in her eyes, and he grabbed her arm and pulled her back viciously. “Come on, tell me your plans, Miss Reality. You're the one who's been so busy making us face up to it all. Hell, if it hadn't been for you, we'd still be living the way we were before.” So that was it, he blamed her, and not himself, or maybe he only wished he did. She knew him well, but it didn't stop her from lashing out at him.

“If we were, we'd have five million dollars in debts instead of four.”

“Christ … you sound just like those two old maids. Gentry and Burford. They don't know their ass from a hole in the ground. So what if we were in debt?” He shouted the words and walked away from her. “We had a decent life, didn't we?” He glared at her in fury from across the room, but it was fury at himself, not her, and suddenly she shouted at him.

“It was a lie goddammit! It was only a matter of time before they took the house out from under us and carted the furniture out of here.”

Ward laughed bitterly. “Oh, I see. And just what do you think is happening now?”

“We're selling it ourselves, Ward. And if we're lucky, we'll have some money left at the end of it. Money we can invest if we're sensible, and maybe live on for a while. And you know what? All that really matters is that we still have each other and the kids.”

But he didn't want to hear what she had to say. He slammed out of the room, and the door shuddered in the frame from the impact as he left. Her hands shook for half an hour after he had left, but she went on packing their things. And three weeks later, they sold the house. It was a somber day for them, but it was the only way out. They got less than they had hoped for it, but the buyers knew that they were desperate, and it didn't show as well as it once had. The gardeners were all gone and the grounds were already a little run down, the disappearance of the carousel had left some ugly scars. All the really fine furniture was gone, the huge rooms looked barren without the chandeliers or drapes. They got a quarter of a million dollars for the place from a well-known actor and his wife. He wasn't particularly pleasant to Faye, and they never even met Ward. They just strutted around the house, and made comments to their real estate man, as though Faye weren't there. The offer came in the next day, and it took a week of negotiation just to get them up as high as they did. And Burford, Gentry, and Faye all pressed Ward to agree to it. They insisted that he had no choice, and finally in desperation, he agreed with them, signed the offer himself, and then locked himself into his study with two bottles of champagne and a fifth of gin. He sat there staring at the photographs of his parents on the wall, and crying silently, thinking of his father's life and the life that now faced him. Faye didn't even see him until late that night when he finally came upstairs. She didn't dare speak to him as he came into the room. She just watched his face, and she wanted to cry just looking at him. It was the end of his whole way of life, and suddenly she was frightened for him, wondering if he could survive the change. She had been poor before, although admittedly not in a very long time, but she still remembered the realities of it. And it wasn't as terrifying to her as it was to Ward. She felt now though as if she had been running for months, and wondered if she was ever going to be able to stop, if they were ever going to be able to find each other again. It was like the worst nightmare of her life, and all their idyllic moments were gone. They were left with the shock of reality, the tragedy of what he'd done, and the dreary ugliness of the rest of their life. But she refused to let it be like that, refused to let him let go and give up, to become a hopeless drunk.

He stood staring at her, as though reading her thoughts, and he looked heartbroken as he walked into the room and sat down. “I'm sorry I've been such a sonofabitch about all this, Faye.” He sat staring at her and she felt tears in her eyes as she tried to smile at him.

“It's been hard on all of us.”

“But it's all my fault … that's the worst part of it. I'm not sure I could ever have turned the tides, but I could have slowed things down a little bit.”

“You could never have revived a dying industry, Ward, no matter how hard you tried. You can't blame yourself for that.” She shrugged and sat down on the edge of the bed. “As for the rest …” She smiled sadly at him. “…i t was fun for a while …”

“What if we starve?” He looked like a frightened little boy. For a man who had lived on credit for all these years, it was an amazing thing to ask. But he had finally faced those thoughts tonight and the one thing he realized was that no matter how angry he was, he desperately needed her. And she didn't fail him now.

She looked calm when she spoke to him, far calmer than she felt. But she wanted to give him something she knew he didn't have. Faith. Confidence. It was what she could do best for him now. And to her that was what it meant to be his wife. “We won't starve, Ward. You and I can handle this. I never starved before, even though I came pretty close at times.” She grinned tiredly at him. Her whole body ached from the packing and pushing and moving things around.

“There weren't seven of you then.”

“No.” She looked at him tenderly for the first time in weeks. “But I'm glad there are now.”

“Are you really, Faye?” His own misery had sobered him hours before. He just couldn't seem to stay drunk tonight, and now he was just as glad. “Doesn't it frighten you to have all of us pulling on your skirts, and me most of all, I'm more frightened than the kids.” She walked slowly toward him and touched the thick sandy blond hair. It was strange how much he looked like Gregory, how much alike they were, and sometimes he seemed even more a little boy than their son.

“It'll be okay, Ward … I promise you that.” She spoke in a whisper as she kissed the top of his head, and when he tinned his face up to her, there were tears pouring slowly down his cheeks and he had to gulp down a sob.

“I'm going to help you now, babe. I promise … I'll do whatever I can …” She nodded, and he pulled her face down toward his, and for the first time in what seemed like years, he kissed her lips, and moments later, he followed her to bed, but nothing happened there. It hadn't in a long time. There were too many things on both their minds. But at least the love was still there, battered but not gone. It was all they had left now. Everything else was gone.

CHAPTER 7

They moved out of the house in May with tears streaming quietly down Faye's and Ward's cheeks. They knew that they were leaving a world and a life that would never come again. Lionel and Gregory were crying too. They were old enough to understand that they were leaving the house for good. It had been their childhood home, and it was beautiful and safe and warm. And there was something frightening about the look in their parents' eyes. Everything was suddenly different somehow, but the children weren't entirely sure how. Only Vanessa and Val seemed less affected by the move. They were only three years old and they didn't seem to mind as much, although they felt everyone else's uneasiness too. They thought it was exciting that they were all going to the house in Palm Springs.

Ward drove them all down in the only car they had left. It was an old Chrysler station wagon they had kept for the help, but it served the purpose now. The Duesenbergs were all gone, Faye's Bentley coupe, the Cadillac, and the rest of the fleet of cars they had had.

For Faye and Ward it was like leaving their youth behind them for good. The house in Palm Springs had to be vacated by June. But in the meantime, it gave Faye and Ward a place to leave the children for a few weeks. She had leads to several houses to rent, and the furniture would wait in storage until then. She was going to drive down to Palm Springs with all of them, and then go back to Los Angeles alone to find a house, while Ward oversaw the packing up of the house in Palm Springs. He insisted that it was the least he could do, after all she had tackled alone in L.A. She didn't have to touch a thing this time, she just had to find them a decent place to live. And she knew it wasn't going to be easy to do. With the sale of the shipyard, the house in Beverly Hills, all their furniture, their art, the collection of rare books, the cars, and the house in Palm Springs with most of its contents too, they would have just enough to pay off all of their debts, with about fifty-five thousand to spare, which, carefully invested, would eke out barely enough to support them all. They were going to rent a house, and Faye was hoping she could find something cheap. And as soon as they were all settled in, and the children went back to school in the fall, she was going to see about getting a job. Of course Ward was talking about getting one too. But she had more faith in her own abilities to find work, and it would be easier for her. She had worked before, and even if she was thirty-two, she certainly wasn't over the hill yet, not for what she wanted to do. And Lionel would be starting first grade, Greg would begin kindergarten, the twins would be in nursery school, she would have plenty of free time. She was keeping only their nurse to keep an eye on all of them, and the baby as well, and do the housework and cook. Baby Anne was only four months old and not much trouble yet. It was a perfect time for Faye to leave home. And as she thought of it on the drive to Palm Springs, she felt suddenly guilty about the baby again. The others had all spent so much time with her at the same age, but this time she hadn't had a moment to spare for her. She had barely seen the baby since she'd been born. But disaster had struck so immediately after her birth, it was impossible to even think of her more than now and then, she had so many other things on her mind. Ward glanced over at her several times as they drove, noticed the frown and patted her hand. He had promised her he would drink less once they got to Palm Springs, and she hoped he would keep his word. The house was smaller there and the children would have been much more aware of it if he was drunk all the time. Besides, he had a lot to do, and Faye hoped it would keep him occupied.

She went back to Los Angeles two days later, by train, and moved into a small room at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel when she arrived. The houses she saw were depressing beyond words. In bad neighborhoods, with tiny backyards and small ugly rooms. She combed the papers, and called all the agencies, and finally, desperate, by the beginning of the second week, she found a house that was not quite as ugly as the rest, and was large enough for all of them. It had four good-sized bedrooms on one floor. She had already decided to double up the boys, and the twins, and the nurse and Anne could also share a room, and the fourth bedroom would be for her and Ward. Downstairs there was a large somewhat gloomy cheaply paneled living room, a fireplace that had not worked in years, a dining room that looked out on a bleak little garden, and a big old-fashioned kitchen, big enough to put a big kitchen table in. The children would certainly be closer to her than they ever had before, and she tried to tell herself that it would be good for them, that Ward wouldn't hate it and refuse to live in it, and the children wouldn't cry when they saw the dreary rooms. The best thing about it was the rent, which was an amount they could afford. And it was in a family neighborhood in Monterey Park which was a long, long way from their old life in Beverly Hills. There was no kidding anyone about that, and when she returned to Palm Springs, she didn't really try to. She told them all that it would be “for a while,” that it was an adventure they would share, that they would all have chores to do, and they could plant pretty flowers in the garden which would grow. And when Ward faced her when they were alone, he stared at her openly and said the words she feared:

“How bad is it really, Faye?”

She took a deep breath. The only thing she could do was tell him the truth. He would find out soon enough for himself. There was no point lying to him. “Compared to what we had?” He nodded. “It's grim. But without looking back at that, if we can make the effort not to for a while, it's not so bad. It's freshly painted, it's reasonably clean. The little bit of furniture we have left will fit. And we can make it prettier with curtains and bright flowers. And,” she took another breath, trying not to see the look of devastation on his face, “at least we have each other. It'll be all right.” She smiled at him but he turned away.

“You keep saying that.” He was angry at her again, as though it were all her fault. And secretly, she was beginning to believe it was. Maybe she shouldn't have forced him to face it all. Maybe she should have let him go on living in debt until they couldn't anymore. But it would have all had to be faced sooner or later anyway … wouldn't it? She didn't have the answers anymore. At least he had kept his word, and packed up the house in Palm Springs, and he hadn't started drinking again until she returned. Then he knew she would take over and he could relax. At least for a while … until they moved.

When they closed up the house and drove to Los Angeles all together on a Tuesday afternoon, it felt as though it were a thousand degrees. Faye had already made a little headway in the Monterey Park house before rejoining them in Palm Springs. She had unpacked what she could by herself, hung a few pictures in everyone's rooms, filled vases with flowers, made beds with clean sheets. She had done everything possible to make it look like home, and the children were intrigued when they arrived, like puppies sniffing out their new home, and delighted when they found their rooms and their toys and their own beds as Faye watched hopefully, but Ward looked as though he were going to faint as he walked into the dark, ugly, wood-paneled living room. He said not a word as Faye watched his face, and fought back tears. He glanced out into the garden with narrowed eyes, glanced around the dining room, noticed a table they had kept from an upstairs den, and instinctively looked up, expecting to see a familiar chandelier that had been sold months before, and then shook his head as he looked at Faye. He had never seen anything like it before. He had actually never been in a home this poor, and instantly it cut him to the quick.

“So much for that. I hope at least it's cheap.” He felt guilt overwhelm him again at what he was doing to her, and all of them.

Her eyes were gentle, as they stood facing each other in their new home. “It's not forever, Ward.” That was what she had told herself years before, as she longed to escape the poverty of her parents' home. But that had been much worse than this. And this wouldn't be forever either. This time, she was sure of that. Somehow, they would dig their way out.

Ward looked around again sorrowfully. “I don't think I can take too much more of this.” And at his words she felt anger bubble up inside of her for the first time in months, and when she spoke she roared.

“Ward Thayer, everyone in this family is making the best of this, and you'd damn well better too! I can't turn the clock back for you. I can't pretend this is our old house. But this is our home, ours, mine, the children's and yours too.” She was trembling as she stood staring at him and he looked at her eyes. She was determined to make the best of it, and he respected her for that, but he wasn't sure he had the strength to do it too, and when he went to bed that night, he was almost sure he did not. The room smelled of old rot, as though the beams had been damp for years, there was a musty smell about the whole house, and the curtains Faye had hung were from their old servants' quarters and didn't fit. It was like becoming servants in their own home, it was all like an incredible, surrealistic, ugly dream. But it was theirs, and it was real, and she knew they had to make the best of it. And he turned to say something to her, to apologize for how badly he was taking it all, but she was already fast asleep, curled into a little ball, huddled onto her own side of the bed, like a frightened child, and he wondered if she was scared too. He was terrified most of the time these days, even the drinking didn't help anymore, and he wondered what would happen to the rest of their lives. Was this it for good? They certainly couldn't afford more than this, and he wondered if they ever would again. She said that it was just a stepping-stone, an interim place, that one day they would move on, but when and how and to where? In his wildest dreams, as he lay in the ugly, musty bedroom, painted pale green, he couldn't even imagine it.

CHAPTER 8

It had been six years since he had represented her, and her hand trembled as she dialed the phone. It was entirely possible that he had retired, or perhaps wouldn't have time to speak to her. He had called her when Lionel had been born, and tried to convince her once again to pick up the threads of her career before too much time passed and it was too late. And it was surely too late now, six years after she had abandoned her career. She didn't need him to tell her that. But she needed his advice. She had waited until September. The children were all in school, as planned, except, of course, Anne. And Ward was out seeing old friends, trying to get a job, he said, but most of the time he just seemed to be having long lunches at his favorite restaurants and clubs, “making contacts,” he told her when he came home. Maybe he was, but she could see it going on for years and getting them nowhere, not unlike this call … if he wouldn't talk to her. She prayed he would, as she gave the secretary her name. There was an interminable pause and she was asked to hold the line, and then suddenly there he was … just like the old days, long before this.

“My God … a voice from the distant past. Are you still alive?” His voice boomed in her ear as it had years before and she laughed nervously. “Is it really you, Faye Price?” She was suddenly sorry she hadn't seen more of him over the years, but she'd been so busy with Ward and the kids, and Hollywood was part of another life.

“It's me, the same Faye Price Thayer, with a few gray hairs now.”

“That can be changed, although I don't suppose that's why you called me. To what do I owe the honor of this surprise, and do you have ten children yet?” Abe sounded as warm as he had before, and she was touched that he still had time to talk to her. They had been such good friends once upon a time. Her agent for all the years of her stellar career, he had faded from her life, and now she was knocking on his door again. But she smiled at what he had said.

“Not ten children, Abe, only five. I'm only halfway there.”

“Christ, you crazy kids. I knew from the light in your eye, you meant it way back then, that's when I gave up on you. But you were great while you were up there, Faye. And you could have stayed there for a long, long time.” She wasn't sure she agreed with him, but it was nice to hear. She would probably have started to slip one day. Everyone did eventually, and Ward had spared her that, but now … she had to get up the courage to ask what she wanted from him, although he suspected the moment he heard her name. He read the papers, just like everyone else, and had heard how much trouble they were in. The house sold, their goods auctioned off, the shipyard closed. It was a quick trip down, just like for some of his stars. But it never changed the way Abe felt about the people he liked, and he felt sorry for Faye now, with no money, a husband who had never worked a day in his life, and five kids to support.

“Do you ever miss the old days, Faye?”

She had always been honest with him. “I never have, to tell you the truth.” Not until now, anyway, and even now, she had something else in mind.

“I don't suppose you have time with five kids on your hands.” But she'd have to go out and work again now. He knew that only too well and decided to get to the point, and spare her the embarrassment of crawling to him.

“To what do I owe both the honor and the pleasure of this call, Mrs. Thayer?” Though he could guess … a part in a play … a small part in a film. He knew her well enough to know she wouldn't ask the moon of him.

“I have a favor to ask, Abe.”

“Shoot.” He had always been direct with her and if he could, he would help her now.

“Could I come and see you sometime?” She sounded like an ingenue again and he smiled.

“Of course, Faye. Name your day.”

“Tomorrow?”

He was startled at how soon she wanted to come in. They really were desperate then. “Fine. We'll have lunch at the Brown Derby.”

“That would be wonderful.” For just an instant, she thought longingly of the old days. It had been years since she had thought of that. And after she hung up, she walked upstairs with a secret smile. She just prayed he wouldn't tell her she was out of her mind. But when she met with him the next day, he didn't say that, but he sat very quietly, thinking of what she had asked. He had been shocked to hear the details of what had happened to their life, and that they were living in Monterey Park. It was so far from where they had begun, light-years away in fact, but she seemed to be holding up. She was one hell of a gutsy girl, always had been, and she was smart enough to do what she had in mind. He just wondered if anyone would give her the chance.

“I read somewhere that Ida Lupino directed a movie for Warner Brothers, Abe.”

“I know. But not everyone is going to give you that chance, Faye.” He was honest with her. “In fact, few will.” And then, “What does your husband have to say about all this?”

She took a deep breath and looked her old agent in the eye. He hadn't changed much over the years. He was still rotund, gray-haired, sharp, demanding, but kind, and honest to a fault. And best of all, she sensed instantly that he was still her friend. He would help her if he could. “He doesn't know yet, Abe. I thought I'd talk to you first.”

“Do you think he'll object to your coming back to Hollywood?”

“Not like this. He might if I tried to act again. But the truth is I'm too old now, and I've been gone for too long.”

“At thirty-two, that's a lot of crap. You're not too old, but it would be hard to make a comeback after all these years. People forget. And the young kids have their own stars today. You know,” he sat back and drew pensively on his cigar over dessert, “I like your idea a lot better. If we can sell it to a studio, it would really be something else.”

“Will you try?”

He pointed the cigar at her. “Are you asking me to be your agent again, Faye?”

“I am.” She met his eyes and he smiled.

“Then I accept. I'll sniff around and see what I get.” But she knew him better than that. She knew he would turn over every rock and stone until he found something for her, and if he didn't find anything, it would be because there was nothing there. And she was right about him. He didn't call her for six weeks, and when he did, he asked her to come in to see him again. She didn't even dare ask him on the phone. She just took the bus from Monterey Park to Hollywood, bumping along nervously, and then running up the steps to his offices. She was breathless when she arrived, but still beautiful he noticed as she sat down. She was wearing a striking red silk dress with a lightweight black wool coat. She had kept some of her clothes from their better days and she looked wonderful. She almost trembled as he watched her face, and he reached across the desk and took her hand. He knew just how anxious she was.

“Well?”

“Relax. It's nothing fabulous, but it's a start. Maybe. If it appeals to you. It's a job as assistant director, at pathetic pay, at MGM. But my friend Dore Schary liked the idea. He wants to see what you can do. And he's well aware of what Lupino is doing at Warner Brothers. He likes the idea of having a woman in his stable too.” Schary had long since had the reputation of being the most forward-thinking of the studio heads, he was also the youngest of all of them.

“Will he be able to tell if I'm any good, if I'm working for someone else?” She was worried about that, but on the other hand, no one would just let her direct by herself for the first time. She knew that too.

Abe nodded his head. “The director is someone he has under contract, and Dore knows he's no good. If this film turns out halfway decently, it'll be all your fault. And the guy is so lazy and drinks so much, he won't even be on the set half the time. You'll have a free hand, what you won't get is much money or much glory out of this. That comes the next time around, if you do a good job this time.”

She nodded. “Is the picture any good?”

“It could be.” He was honest with her again, outlined the script, told her who the stars would be. “Faye, it's a chance and that's what you want. If you're serious about this, I think you should give it a try. What have you got to lose?”

“Not much I guess.” She looked at him pensively, thinking over all that he had said, and she liked the sound of it. “When would I start?” She wanted time to study the script, and she could almost see Abe gulp. He knew how she hiked to work, how thorough she was, how studious. He grinned sheepishly.

“Next week.”

Faye rolled her eyes with a groan. “My God.” It also didn't give her much time to break Ward in to the idea. But this was what she wanted, it was all she knew how to do, and she wasn't even sure she knew how to do this, but she wanted desperately to try. She had secretly been thinking about it for months. She looked Abe Abramson in the eye and nodded her head. “I'll take it.”

“I haven't told you how much.”

“I'll take it anyway.”

He told her the pay, and they both knew it was ridiculous, but the important thing was that she was being given a chance.

“You'll have to be on the set by six o'clock every day, earlier if they want you to. You may work till eight or nine o'clock at night. I don't know how you'll manage with the kids. Maybe Ward can help you out.” Although Abe couldn't imagine that. Ward wasn't that kind of man. He was too used to having an army of help to fulfill his every need. And Abe wondered how much he helped Faye now.

“I still have one woman to help me out.”

“Good.” He stood up. It was just like the old days … almost … sort of … she grinned.

“Thank you, Abe.”

“Never mind that.” His eyes said that he felt sorry for her, but he respected her. She'd bail herself out yet. She was just that kind of girl. “Come back tomorrow and sign the contract, if you can.” It meant another long bus ride into town, but nothing compared to the ride she would have now every day, getting all the way across town from east to west, to Culver City, and MGM. But she would have walked over ground glass for this job, or for Abe. She knew he would take ten percent from her, and ten percent of what she would be making was hardly worth looking at for him, but he didn't seem to mind. And neither did she. She was thrilled.

She had a job! She wanted to shout as she ran down the stairs. And she smiled to herself all the way home on the bus, and burst into the house the way one of her children would have. She found Ward sitting in the living room, obviously feeling the effects of another champagne lunch with one of his friends, and she dropped onto his lap and threw her arms around his neck.

“Guess what?”

“If you tell me you're pregnant again, I'll kill myself … but only after I kill you!” He laughed at her and she shook her head with a smug look he hadn't seen her wear before.

“Nope. Guess again.”

“I give up.” His eyes were red and his words were slurred but she didn't even mind that now.

“I have a job!” He looked shocked and she went on. “As assistant director on a movie that starts next week at MGM.” He stood up so quickly that she had to scramble to her feet so as not to fall on the floor, as he looked down at her.

“Are you out of your mind? What the hell did you do that for? Is that what you've been out doing? Looking for work?” He looked horrified, and she wondered how he thought they were going to support themselves. Fifty-five thousand in bonds was hardly going to do the job for two adults, five children, and a maid. “Why the hell did you do a thing like that?” He was shouting at her and the children were staring at them from the stairs.

“One of us has to, Ward.”

“I told you, I've been making contacts every day.”

“Great. Then something will turn up for you soon. But in the meantime, I want to do this. It could be wonderful experience.”

“For what? Is that what you want? Hollywood again?”

“Only like this, not like the old days.” She fought to keep her voice calm, and she wanted to be honest with him. She also wanted the children to go upstairs and stop staring at them, but when she waved them away, they didn't budge, and Ward paid no attention to them at all, these days he rarely did. “I think we should talk about this when we're alone.”

“To hell with that. Well talk about it now.” His good looks seemed to vanish as he raged. “Why didn't you ask me before you did this?”

“It came up suddenly.”

“When?” He was throwing words at her like rocks. “Today.”

“Fine. Then tell them you changed your mind. You're not interested.”

Suddenly something in her snapped and she could feel fury mounting in her. “Why should I do a thing like that? Ward, I want this job. I don't give a damn how badly it's paid, or what you think. This is what I want to do. And one day you'll be glad I did. Somebody has to bail us out of this mess we're in.” Instantly, she regretted the words.

“And you're it. Is that it?”

“Maybe so.” She might as well go on now, the damage was done.

“Great.” His eyes blazed at her as he grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair. “Then you don't need me around here, do you?”

“Of course, I do …” But the words weren't out of her mouth before he had slammed out the door and Valerie and Vanessa began to cry, as Gregory looked sadly down at her.

“Is he ever coming back?”

“Of course he is.” She walked up to meet them, suddenly feeling tired. Why did he have to make everything so difficult? Why did he have to take it all so personally? Probably because he drank too much, she told herself with a sigh, as she kissed Lionel and tousled Greg's hair, and then reached down to pick up the girls in her arms. She was strong enough to carry both of them. She was strong enough to do a lot of things. Maybe that was the problem with Ward. He didn't like knowing that and it was getting harder and harder to keep that fact from him. She wanted to ask him why he was doing this to her, but she already knew the answer to that. He couldn't cope with what had happened to them, and his choices were to blame her or himself. Either way she paid the price. As she did that night, lying awake until four o'clock, waiting for him to come home, praying that he hadn't smashed up the car and gotten hurt. He walked in at four-fifteen, reeking of gin and barely able to crawl into bed in the darkened room. There was no point even talking to him now. She would wait until morning and tell him her plan. But when she did, he was not impressed.

“For heaven's sake, Ward, listen to me.” He was so hung over he could barely see, and she was in a hurry to get to Abe's office in Hollywood, to sign the contract and pick up the script.

“I don't want to listen to that shit. You're as crazy as I used to be. Pipe dreams. That's all they are. You're nuts. You don't know any more about directing than I do, and I don't know a damn thing about any of it.” He looked at her furiously.

“Neither do I. But I'm going to learn. That's the whole point of this job, and maybe the next one after that … maybe the next ten films, for all I know. But after that at least I'll know something about it, and what I'm suggesting to you isn't all that insane.”

“Horseshit.”

“Ward, listen to me. Producers are people with a lot of contacts, people who know other people with money. They don't have to have a dime themselves, and they don't even have to like the film, although it helps if they pretend they do. They're go-betweens. They put together the deal. What better job for you? Look at the people you know, the contacts you have. Some of your friends would love to invest in films and get a little bit involved in Hollywood. And one day, if we do this right, we could be a team. You produce, I direct.” He looked at her as though she were out of her mind.

“Why don't you just sign us up for vaudeville? You're goddamn nuts, and you're going to make a fool of yourself.” Finally, she pulled away from him. He didn't want hope yet. He couldn't even begin to see the possibilities, but she could. She could see it all, if he'd only get off his dead ass and try. She picked up her coat and handbag and looked down at him.

“Laugh at me if you want, Ward Thayer. But one day you'll admit I was right. And if you ever get up the guts to be a man again, you might even try my idea. It's not as crazy as you'd like to think. Think about it sometime, if you have time, between drinks.” And with that, she walked out and closed the door.

And for the next two months, she barely saw Ward at all. He was sound asleep when she left the house for the long bus ride she took to get to work every day. She had to leave the house just after four, and the bus took forever to get to MGM. And by the time she got home at night, it was after ten o'clock, the children were sound asleep, and most of the time Ward was out. She never asked him where he went at night. She just fell into bed after a hot bath, a snack, and a glance at the script, and the next day it would begin again. It would have been enough to kill anyone, but she wouldn't give up. The director she was working for hated everything she did, and gave her a hard time whenever she was on the set, but fortunately he was almost never there. And she didn't give a damn what he did, there was pure magic between the actors and herself, and she got something from them that no one else could. It showed in the daily rushes, and more than that it showed in the print they finally showed to Dore Schary. Abe called her at home late in January, a week after they had wrapped up the film and she'd come home to find Ward gone for several days this time. He had told the maid he was going to Mexico “to see friends,” and she hadn't heard a word from him. A small chill ran up her spine as the message was delivered to her, but she forced herself to think that everything was all right and concentrate on the children she'd barely seen since she began working on the film. But her time with them was interrupted again, this time by a call from Abe that came one morning as she was playing with Anne.

“Faye?” The familiar voice boomed in her ear, and she smiled.

“Yes, Abe.”

“I've got good news.” She held her breath. Please, God, let them like her work. She had been dying over it, waiting to hear. “Schary says you're fabulous.”

“Oh God …” Tears stung her eyes.

“He wants to give you another shot at it.”

“On my own this time?”

“No. As assistant director again, but for more pay. And this time, he wants you to work with someone good. He thinks you'll learn a lot from him.” He mentioned a name that took Faye's breath away. He had directed Faye herself years ago, and she knew what Dore Schary said was true. She would learn a lot from this man. But she wanted to direct a movie herself. She knew she had to be patient now. She reminded herself of that as Abe outlined the new deal, and it sounded very good to her. “What do you think?”

“The answer is yes.” They needed the money anyway, and God only knew where Ward was. This Mexican trip was really the last straw and she intended to tell him that when he came back. That, and a lot of other things too. She wanted to tell him about this new deal. It was wonderful, and there was no one else she could tell. She had been so desperately lonely without him. “When do I start?”

“Six weeks.”

“Good. That'll give me some more time with the kids.” He noticed that she didn't mention Ward, and hadn't for quite a while, but he wasn't surprised at that. He wouldn't have given ten cents for the chances that their marriage would survive. Ward was apparently not adjusting to their circumstances, from the little Faye had said, and sooner or later, Faye would dig her way out and leave him behind. It was easy to read the handwriting on the wall, or at least Abe thought so. He had never fully understood how deeply attached to Ward she was. Without family or many close friends, and having given up her old life as a star for him and the kids, she had been totally dependent on him for years and still was. She needed him, just as much as he needed her, or so she thought. And it came as an enormous shock when she saw him return from Mexico. He was tanned, healthy, happy, with a long, thin Cuban cigar in his teeth, an alligator suitcase in his hand, and wearing one of his old white linen suits. He looked as though the Duesenberg would still have been parked outside if she'd looked. And he only looked slightly sheepish when he looked at her as he came in. He had expected her to be in bed at that hour. It was well after midnight, but she was studying the new script.

“Have a good trip?” The chill in her voice hid all the loneliness and pain she had felt since he'd left. But she was too proud to let him see that … yet.

“Yes … sorry I didn't write …”

“I imagine you didn't have time.” Something in his face made her feel sudden anger at him. There was sarcasm in her voice, and anger and bitterness. He wasn't sorry he had gone at all. She could see it instantly, and she rapidly sensed the reason why, “Who were you with?”

“Some old friends.” He set his bags down, and sat across from her on the couch, aware that this was more delicate than he had told himself it would be.

“How interesting. Funny you never mentioned it before you left.”

“It came up pretty suddenly.” Something nasty lit in his eyes. “And you were busy with your film.” That was what it was really all about. His revenge for her finding a job when he had not, and she knew that too, but it wasn't fair of him.

“I see. Of course then I understand. Next time you leave for three weeks, you might try calling me at work before you go. You may be surprised at how easy I am to reach by phone.”

“I didn't know that.” He was growing pale beneath the tan.

“I guess not.” She looked deep into his eyes and knew the truth. She just didn't know how to confront him with it. But the papers made it easy for her the next day. It was all there. All she had to do was throw it across the bed at him. “Your press agent's pretty good, and your travel agent must be too. I just don't happen to think much of your taste in girls, or your judgment about who you take along on trips.” There was a gash in her guts that felt as though it would kill her on the spot. But she refused to show him that. She didn't want him to know how much pain he'd caused her with this flagrant affair. And she knew too that it was his way of coping with all that had happened to them, of pretending that he was still part of the world he had just lost. But no matter how hard he pretended all that, it was over for them … unless he married that world again.

Ward almost gasped as he read the words. “Bankrupt millionaire Ward Thayer I'V and Maisie Abernathie should be back from Mexico any day. They've been lolling on her yacht outside San Diego for three weeks, and went down to Mexico to meet friends and play with the fish. They look awfully happy and everyone is wondering what he did with his retired movie queen …” Faye stared at him with terror and hatred in her eyes for the first time in her life. “You can tell them I quit. It won't make headlines anymore, but at least it'll clear things up for you and Miss Abernathie, you sonofabitch. Is that how you're going to handle what happened to us? By running around with people like her? You both make me sick.” Maisie Abernathie was a spoiled, self-indulgent heiress who had slept with almost every man they knew … “except me,” he used to tease. And now the list included him as well.

Faye walked out of the bedroom and slammed the door, and when he came downstairs, he found that she had left to take the four older children to school. She had been spending most of her time with them for weeks, to make up for the months she'd worked and would work again now. She missed them terribly when she worked, but she wasn't thinking of them as she walked back into the house and found Ward waiting for her, downstairs, in a blue silk dressing gown he'd bought in Paris years before.

“I have to talk to you.” He looked terrified as he stood up, and she brushed past him on her way upstairs. She was going to do her reading at the public library.

“I have nothing to say to you. You're free to go whenever you want. I'll find a lawyer, and he can call Burford.” She was beginning to convince herself that Maisie Abernathie was not only for real, but for good.

“It's that simple, is it?” He grabbed her arm as she swept by, avoiding his eyes. But now she looked him full in the face and it almost frightened him. He had never seen such contempt, let alone felt it, and it almost broke his heart as he realized what he'd done. “Faye, listen to me … it was all a stupid mistake. I just had to get out of here … the children screaming all the time … you gone … this depressing house … it was more than I could take.”

“Good. Then you're out of it permanently. You can move back to Beverly Hills with Maisie. I'm sure she'll be happy to take you in.”

“As what?” He looked at his wife bitterly. “Her chauffeur? For chrissake dammit. I can't even get a job, and you're at work all the time, what the hell do you know about what I feel? I can't stand this life. I wasn't brought up for this … I don't know …” He let go of Faye's arm and she stared unsympathetically at him. This time he had gone too far. The drinking, the self-pity, the inability to work, the lies as he wasted the last of his money before she found out, she could forgive him all of it, but not this. This was it. But he looked pitifully at her anyway. “I can't help it. You're stronger than I am. You have something inside you that I don't. I don't know what it is.”

“It's called guts. And you've got them too, if you'd just give yourself a chance, and stay sober long enough to get on your feet.”

“Maybe I can't. Has that occurred to you yet? It has to me. Every day, in fact, until I went away. And maybe that's something I should do for good.”

“What?” She looked blank, but she felt terror crawl up her spine again.

He looked strangely calmer now, as though he knew what he had to do. “I mean get out of your life, Faye.”

“Now? That's a stinking thing to do.” She was horrified, she didn't want to lose this man. She still loved him. He and the children were all that mattered to her. “How can you do a thing like that to us?” There were tears in her eyes and he forced himself to look away, just as he had forced himself not to think of her in the last few weeks. He couldn't stand the guilt anymore. What had happened was all his fault, and there was nothing he could do to help. He had nothing to offer her and she seemed to be doing fine on her own. At least that was what he told himself, and what he was telling himself now, without looking at her. Had he looked, he'd have seen the agony in her eyes as she stared back at him. “Ward, what's happening to us?” Her voice was husky and hoarse, and he sighed deeply and walked across the room to look out the window at the nonexistent view of their neighbor's unpainted house, and the trash in his yard.

“I think it's time for me to get out of here, find a job on my own, and let you forget we ever met.”

“With five kids?” She would have laughed except that she wanted to cry. “Are you planning to forget them too?” She stared at the back of his head in disbelief. This couldn't be happening to them, except it was. It was like a nightmare or a very bad script.

“I'll send you everything I can.” He turned slowly to face her from across the room.

“Is it Maisie? Are you serious about her?” It was hard to believe, but anything was possible now. Maybe he was that desperate for their old life, and Maisie was certainly part of it. But Ward shook his head.

“It's not that. I think I just need to get out of here for a while.” He looked almost bitter as he said it. “I feel as though I ought to leave you alone to build a new life for yourself. You could probably wind up married to some successful movie star.”

“If I'd wanted that, I could have had it years ago. But I didn't want that. I wanted you.”

“And now?” He felt the first surge of courage he had felt in years. It was all out now. There was no place left to go but up. He had nothing left to lose, if in fact he had lost her.

She stared at him with sad, empty eyes. “I don't know who you are anymore, Ward. I don't understand how you could go to Mexico with her. Maybe you'd better go back to her.” They were words of false bravado, but he snapped at the bait.

“Maybe I will.” He stalked upstairs then in a rage, and a moment later, she could hear him crashing around their bedroom, packing his things. She sat in the kitchen, staring blindly into a coffee cup, thinking of the last seven years and crying bitterly, until it was time to pick the children up at school again.

And when she came home from picking up the kids at school, he was gone. The children had never realized he was back, so she had nothing to explain to them. She fixed dinner for them that night, lamb chops that were overcooked, baked potatoes that remained like rocks, and spinach that she burned. She wasn't at her best cooking for them, but at least she tried, and all she could think of that night was where he was, with Maisie Abernathie undoubtedly, and had she been wrong to blow up at him? She lay in bed that night, thinking all the way back to Guadalcanal, the good times they had shared … the tenderness, the dreams, and she cried long into the night, and finally cried herself to sleep, aching for him.

CHAPTER 9

The second film Faye worked on was far more difficult than the first, the director was constantly there, making demands on her, giving her orders, criticizing what she did. There were times when she would have dearly loved to throttle him, but when all was said and done, he gave her a rare and very special gift. He taught her all the tricks she so desperately needed to know for her new trade, he demanded the utmost from her and got far more than that, and at times he let her take the reins and then corrected her. When they finished the film, she had learned more than she might have otherwise in ten years and she was grateful to him. He paid her an enormous compliment before walking off the set for the last time and there were tears in her eyes as she watched him go.

“What did he say to you?” one of the grips whispered and Faye smiled.

“He said he'd like to work with me again, but he knows I won't. That I';ll be directing my own movie next time.” She sighed deeply and looked at the actors hugging and kissing and celebrating the end of their hard work. “I hope he's right.” And he was. Two months later, Abe offered her her first job as director, at MGM again, without being assistant to anyone. Dore Schary had given her her big chance, and she had lived up to it.

“Congratulations, Faye.”

“Thanks, Abe.”

“You deserve every bit of it.” The new movie would begin in the fall. It was an enormous challenge and she was pleased. The children would be back in school by then. Lionel was going into second grade, Greg into first, the twins were still in nursery school for this final year, and Anne was not yet two years old, straggling behind the others, anxious to keep up, and somehow always outrun by them. Faye always meant to spend time with her, but somehow she never had enough time. The others clamored for her, now she would have the script to study and read for several months, eventually the movie to do. It was difficult to stop everything and spend time with a baby again. Anne was different from the others, not only younger, but also so much less able to communicate. It was always easier to leave her with the nurse, who loved her so much, and Lionel had always been especially attached to her.

Faye was excited about the new film, it was an opportunity she was excited about, except that day in, day out, she still thought of Ward and wondered where he was. Since the day he'd walked out, they'd never heard from him. She'd read about him in Louella Parsons once, but the piece told her nothing at all. At least it hadn't mentioned Maisie Abernathie.

In light of that, the movie gave her something to do. She had been anxious to keep her mind occupied since finishing the other film. She had asked Abe for a lawyer's name several months before, but somehow she had never gotten around to calling him, although she promised herself that she would. Something always came up, and the memories would flood her again.

And then suddenly, one day in July, Ward appeared at her front door. The children were playing in the back, in the yard they had all so carefully planted with flowers, and the nurse had built a swing for them, proud of their accomplishment and ingenuity, and then suddenly, there he was, in a white linen suit and a blue shirt, looking more handsome than he ever had before. For an instant, she felt the old familiar pull toward him, but she reminded herself that he had walked out on her, and Lord only knew who he was involved with now. She felt shy as she looked at him, and lowered her eyes before glancing up at him again.

“Yes?”

“May I come in?”

“Why?” She stared at him nervously and he looked uncomfortable, but it was obvious he wouldn't go away until she let him in to talk to her. “It'll upset the children if they see you here.” They had only recently stopped asking for him and she assumed that Ward was planning to disappear again.

“I haven't seen my children in almost four months. Can't I at least say hello to them?” As she hesitated, she noticed that he was thinner than he had been before. It made him look younger than he had in years. She hated to admit to herself how handsome he was. There was no point falling in love with him all over again. “Well?” He wasn't backing off and finally she stepped back and held the screen door open for him. The house looked even uglier to her than it usually did, seeing it again through his eyes, as he stepped inside and looked around. “Well, nothing's changed here.” It was a simple statement of fact and it riled her immediately.

“I suppose you're living in Beverly Hills again?” There was a sharp edge to her voice that cut through him like a knife, just as she had intended it to. He had hurt her terribly when he left, and he was probably just coming back to torment her again. She instantly assumed the worst.

He turned to her quietly. “I'm not living in Beverly Hills, Faye. Do you really think I would leave all of you in a place like this and go back to Beverly Hills myself?” He looked horrified and Faye just stared at him. Somehow that was exactly what she had assumed.

“I don't know what you'd do, Ward.” She certainly hadn't noticed the checks rolling in from him, but they had been managing on the income from their small fund and her salary. Actually, she wondered what he'd been living on for the past few months, but she had no desire to ask.

And at that point, the children came running in, and Lionel stopped in the garden doorway, shocked to see him there, and then advanced slowly toward him with wide eyes. But when Greg saw his father, he thundered past Lionel and hurled himself into his arms. The twins followed suit, as Anne simply stood staring at him, with no idea who he was. She didn't remember him and she looked up at Faye and held her hands out to be picked up, as her mother obliged, watching the other four climb all over Ward, laughing and screeching as he tickled them. Only Lionel seemed more cautious than the other three, and he looked toward Faye again and again, as though needing to know what she thought of it. “It's all right, Lionel,” she said gently. “You can play with your Dad.” But he remained on the fringe, watching them. And at last, Ward talked them all into getting cleaned up, with the promise of taking them out to lunch for a hamburger and an ice-cream cone.

“Do you mind?” He asked her after the children had gone upstairs.

“No,” she looked at him cautiously. “I don't.” She looked nervous as she faced him now, but he seemed equally so. Four months was a long time. They were almost strangers again.

“I have a job, Faye.” He said it as though he expected trumpets to play and she resisted the urge to smile.

“Oh?”

“In a bank … it's not a very important job. I got it from one of my father's friends. I just sit at a desk all day and collect a check at the end of the week.” He looked surprised, as though he had expected it to be more painful than that, like surgery.

“Oh?”

“Well, aren't you going to say anything, dammit?” He was angry at her again. Suddenly, she was so hard to please, and she had never been like that. Maybe going back to work had taken its toll on her. He knew she didn't just sit at a desk all day waiting for her check on Friday afternoons. He took a deep breath and tried again. “Are you working these days?” He knew she couldn't be, or she wouldn't have been at home playing with the kids, at least it hadn't been that way when he was around.

“No, not for another month. I'll be doing my own picture this time.” She was instantly annoyed at herself for saying too much. It was none of his business anymore what she did, but it felt good telling him anyway. It had always felt good telling him everything.

“That's great.” He seemed to hop from one foot to the other, watching her, not sure what to say to her. “Any big stars in it?”

“A few.”

He lit a cigarette. He had never smoked before. “We haven't heard from your attorney yet.”

“I haven't had time to take care of it.” But that wasn't entirely true. She had been free for several months, not that he could know that. “You will.”

“Oh.”

And then the children came thundering down. He took all four of the older ones to lunch, offering to drive them in his new car. A 1949 Ford. It still looked practically new and Ward glanced apologetically at her. “A Duesenberg it's not, but it gets me back and forth to work.” She resisted the urge to tell him she still took the bus. The station wagon had finally died the month before, leaving them with no transportation at all. “Would you like to come to lunch with us, Faye?”

She started to say no, but the children begged her so loudly that it was easier just to give in and go, and part of her was curious about him, where he had been, what he had done, where he was living now. She wondered if he was still involved with Maisie Abernathie, but she told herself she didn't care anymore, and almost convinced herself until she saw the way the waitress looked at him and then she felt herself flush. He was still a very handsome young man, and women certainly seemed to notice him, more than men ever noticed her. But then, she still wore her wedding band, and everywhere she went, she dragged five children along.

“They're wonderful.” He praised her on the way home, as the four children pushed and shoved each other on the back seat of the dark blue Ford. “You've done a good job with them.”

“It isn't as if you've been gone for ten years, for heaven's sake, Ward.”

“It feels like it sometimes.” He was silent for a little while and then glanced at her when they paused at a red light. “I sure miss all of you.”

She wanted to blurt out “We miss you too,” but she forced herself to say nothing at all, and was surprised when she felt his hand on hers. “I've never stopped regretting what I did, if that counts at all.” His voice was so low the children couldn't hear, and they were making such a ruckus they wouldn't have heard anyway. “And I've never done it again. I haven't gone out with another woman since I walked out of our house.” “Our house,” strange words from him, referring to that awful place, and what he said touched her heart as her eyes filled with tears, and she turned to look at him. “I love you, Faye.” They were the words she had longed to hear for four months and instinctively she reached out her arms to him. They were at the house by then and the children tumbled out of the car. Ward told them to go inside, and he would be there momentarily. “Babe … I love you more than you'll ever know.”

“I love you too.” Suddenly she began to sob, and pulled away to look at him with ravaged eyes. “It's been so awful without you, Ward …”

“It was just as terrible for me. I thought I'd die without you and the kids. Suddenly, I realized all we had, even without our old life and a big house …”

“We don't need all that.” She sniffed and smiled. “But we do need you.”

“Not as much as I need you, Faye Thayer.” He looked at her hesitantly. “Or is it Faye Price again?”

She laughed through her tears. “Not a chance!” And at the same time noticed that he was still wearing his wedding band too. And at that exact moment, Greg was calling to him from the house.

“I'm coming, son! Just a minute.” He shouted back. There was so much left to say, but Faye slid slowly out of the car.

“Go ahead. They've missed you too.”

“Not half as much as I've missed them,” and then, with a look of desperation in his eyes, as he reached out and grabbed her arm, “Faye, please … can we try again? I'll do anything you want. I stopped drinking as soon as I left. I realized what a complete jerk I had been. I've got a lousy job, but at least it's something … Faye …” Tears filled his eyes and suddenly he couldn't contain his feelings for her anymore. He bowed his head and began to cry, and after a moment he looked at her honestly. “I didn't know what to do with myself when you went to work. I felt as though I wasn't a man anymore … as though I never had been … but, oh God, I don't want to lose you, Faye … please … oh babe, please …” He pulled her into his arms, and Faye felt as though her heart had found its home again. She had never really given up on him. She wasn't even sure she ever could. She put her head on his shoulder and the tears began to flow again.

“I hated you so much for a while … or at least I wanted to …”

“I wanted to hate you too, but I knew I was the one who was wrong.”

“Maybe I was too. Maybe going back to work wasn't the right thing, but I didn't know what else to do.”

He shook his head. “You were right,” and then he smiled at her through his own tears, “you and your crazy ideas about making me a producer one day …” He smiled tenderly at her. What a good woman she was, how lucky he was to have her back in his arms, even for an hour or two.

She was shaking her head at him. “That wasn't a crazy idea. It's possible, Ward. I could teach you everything you need to know. You could hang around the set on this next film.” She looked hopeful but this time he shook his head.

“Can't. I'm a working man now. Nine to five and all that.”

She laughed. “All right, but you could still be a producer one day, if that's what you want.”

He sighed and put an arm around his wife. “Sounds like pipe dreams to me, my friend.”

“Maybe not.” She looked up at him, wondering what life would bring. At least it had brought him home to her again.

He stood in the doorway to the ugly house in Monterey Park, looking at her. “Do we give it another try? … No … more correctly, will you give me another chance, Faye?” She looked at him long and hard, and slowly a small smile dawned in her eyes. It was a smile born of wisdom and disappointment and pain. She was no longer a young girl. Life was no longer the same as it had been a few years before. Her whole world had turned upside down, and she had survived. And now this man was asking her to walk along beside him again. He had hurt her, deserted her, cheated on her, betrayed her. And yet, deep inside, she still knew that he was her friend, that he loved her, and she him, and that she always would. He didn't have the same instincts that she had, and was not nearly as well equipped to survive. But perhaps, side by side, hand in hand … maybe … just maybe … in fact, she was sure of it. More important, she was sure of him again.

“I love you, Ward.” She smiled up at him, feeling suddenly young again. It had been an endless few months without him. She never wanted to live through that again. She could survive anything but that, even poverty.

He stood kissing her then, as the children looked on, and suddenly they all began to laugh, and Greg pointed at them, laughing the hardest of all, as Ward and Faye began laughing too. Life was sweet again, as it had been long before, only better now. They had both been through hell and back, not unlike Guadalcanal in some ways. But they had won the war. Finally. And now life could begin again. For all of them.

CHAPTER 10

Ward gave up his furnished room in West Hollywood, without ever staying there again, and he moved back into the ugly house he hated so much in Monterey Park, without ever noticing this time how dreary it was. It looked wonderful to him as he carried his bags up the stairs to their room.

They had three idyllic weeks before the children went back to school, and Faye began her new film. And when she did, he insisted that she take the car, while he took the bus to work, which saved her hours on the bus at 4 and 5 A.M., and she was grateful to him. He was nicer to her than he had ever been before. And if it was no longer emerald pendants and ruby pins, it was dinners he had prepared for her with his own hands, and then kept warm until she came home, little presents he bought when he got paid, like a book, or a radio, or a warm sweater for her to wear on the set. It was massages he gave her when she was so tired she wanted to cry, and the hot baths he ran with bath oil he had bought. He was so good to her, at times it almost made her cry. Month after month he proved to her how much he loved her, and she proved the same to him, and from the ashes of their old life emerged a stronger relationship than they had ever had before and the ugly months began to fade. Still they rarely allowed themselves to reminisce about the old days. It was too painful for both of them.

In many ways Faye enjoyed her new life. Her first job as director went very well, and she was given three pictures to do in 1954, all with major stars. Each of them was a major box-office hit. She had begun to make a name for herself in Hollywood again, not as a pretty face or a big star, but as a director with a fine mind, a great gift, and amazing power with her stars. She could get a heartrending performance out of a rock Abe Abramson said, and Dore Schary didn't disagree with him. They were both proud of her, and when the first offer of 1955 came in, Faye demanded what she had wanted from them for years. She had been grooming him ever since he came back, and she knew he was ready now. Her agent almost fell off his seat when she explained her conditions to him.

“And you want me to tell Dore that?” He looked shocked. The guy didn't know a damn thing about pictures and Faye was out of her goddamn mind as far as he was concerned. He had thought she was crazy when she took him back. It was the first time he had ever disagreed with her, but he never told her what he thought. Not then. But he did now. “You're nuts! They'll never buy a package like that. He has no background at all. The guy is thirty-eight years old, Faye, and he has no more idea how to be a producer than my dog.”

“That's a disgusting thing to say, and I don't give a damn what you think. He's learned something about finance in the last two years, he has a sharp mind, and he has some influential friends.” But more importantly than that, Ward had finally grown up, and Faye was enormously proud of him.

“Faye, I just can't sell a package like that.” Abe was sure of it.

“Then you can't sell me, Abe. Those are my terms.” She was as hard as rock, and Abe wanted to reach across his desk and strangle her.

“You're making a big mistake. You're going to blow everything. If you screw this up, no one will ever touch you again. You know damn well how hard it was to sell a woman director at first. And everyone is just waiting for you to fall on your face. No one else will give you the chance Dore gave you, not again….” He was running out of arguments, and she held up a hand, bare of rings except for her simple gold wedding band which she hadn't taken off since her wedding day. All the other jewelry Ward had given her had been sold long ago. She didn't even miss it anymore. It was part of another life, another time.

“I know all of that, Abe. And you know what I want.” She stood up and looked down at him. “You can do it if you try. It's up to you. But those are my terms.” He wanted to throw something at the door after she left.

But he was even more stunned when MGM accepted her terms.

“They're even crazier than you are, Faye.”

“They said yes?” She was in shock as she clutched the phone.

“You two start next month. At least he does. He starts first and then you come into it once the film gets under way. Producer, director, with your own offices at MGM.” He still couldn't get over it, and he sat at his desk shaking his head. “Good luck … and listen, you'd both better get your asses in here and sign the contracts right away before they come to their senses and change their minds.”

“We'll come in this afternoon.”

“Damn right,” he growled. And when they did go in Faye was proud of Ward again.

It was a terrible thing to say, but the hard times had been good for him. There was an air of quiet maturity about him now, and intelligence. Abe began to think he might just pull it off after all, and he knew she'd do everything to help. He wound up shaking hands with both of them and kissing Faye's cheek, wishing them luck, and shaking his head once they had left. You never knew … it was possible … just possible….

The movie was a huge box-office hit, and their career took off after that, producing and directing two to three films a year. In 1956 they were finally able to leave the house Ward had hated so much, although now neither of them had time to notice it. They rented another house for two years. And in 1957, five years after they had left, they were in Beverly Hills again. Not in the grandiose splendor they once had known, but in a pretty, well-kept house with a garden front and back, five bedrooms, which gave them an office at home, and a modest swimming pool. The children were enchanted with it, and Abe Abramson was happy for them. But not as happy as Ward and Faye Thayer were. They had made it back. It was like returning from the war all over again, and they clung to their careers for dear life, appreciating every moment of it.

CHAPTER 11

His office at MGM looked out at nothing in particular, and he glanced out without much interest, while giving dictation. When Faye walked in, she looked across the room at her husband's profile, and smiled to herself. At forty-seven years of age, he was as handsome as he had been twenty years before. More so perhaps, his hair had turned white and his eyes were the same wonderful deep blue. His face was lined, but his body was still long and lean and sinewy, and he was holding a pencil as he measured his words. It was about their next film, slated to go into production in three weeks, and almost on schedule this time. He was fearsome about that. Ward Thayer Productions went out on time, and were expected to come in on time too. And God help those who didn't cooperate with him. They never worked for him again. He had learned a lot in the last ten years. Faye had been right. He was a genius at producing films, more so than anyone had suspected at first. He learned to budget everything well in advance, and came in with investment money from sources that boggled everyone. He tapped the resources of his friends at first, but after that he became ingenious at going out to corporations for funds, conglomerates looking to diversify. As Abe Abramson had said about Ward, “He could charm the birds off trees,” and he had again and again. He and Faye had worked long into the night for months, figuring it all out together for the first few years. But after the first half-dozen films, Ward was really on his own. She stuck to her directing. He put the packages together long before she got involved in the directing and together they produced hit after hit. They were often called Hollywood's Golden Team. And although they had their flops, most of the time they could do no wrong.

Faye was so damn proud of Ward. She had been for a long time. The drinking had stopped, there had been no other women in his life since that distant interlude when they had been separated in 1953. He had worked hard, done well, and she was happy with him. Happier even than they had been in those early fairy-tale years. Those years no longer seemed real to her, and Ward seldom mentioned them anymore. She knew he still missed that life, the easy life, the trips, the estate, dozens of servants … the Duesenbergs … but they had a good life now. Who could complain? They enjoyed their work, and the kids were almost grown up.

She smiled quietly at Ward now, and glanced at her watch. She would have to interrupt him soon. And as though he had sensed her in the room, he turned and smiled at her, their eyes met and held, in the way that people still envied them after all these years. There was something very special about Ward and Faye Thayer, a love which still burned brightly and was the envy of all their friends. Their life hadn't been without pain. But there had been rich rewards too.

“Thanks, Angela, we can finish the rest this afternoon.” He stood up and came around the desk to kiss his wife. “Time to go?” He pecked Faye on the cheek and she smiled up at him. He still wore the same after-shave after all these years, and it was always like an announcement that Ward had been in the room. If she closed her eyes, it still conjured up the same romantic images of long before, but there was no time for that today. Lionel was graduating from Beverly Hills High. They had to be there in half an hour, and the other children were waiting to be picked up at home.

Faye glanced at the handsome sapphire and gold Piaget watch he had given her the year before. “I think we should go, sweetheart. The troops are probably hysterical by now.”

“No,” he grinned at her, as he grabbed his jacket and followed her out, “only Valerie.” They both laughed. They knew the children well, or thought they did. Valerie was by far the most high strung, ebullient, excitable, with the worst temper coupled with the most strident demands. She lived up to her red hair, most of the time, in sharp contrast to her subdued twin. And Greg had lots of energy too, but he used it differently, all he thought about were sports, and lately girls. And then there was Anne, their “invisible child,” as Faye referred to her sometimes. She spent most of her time in her room, reading, or writing poetry. She always seemed separate from the rest. She always had. And it was only when she was with Lionel that a different side of her came out, that she laughed and joked and teased, but if the others pushed her too hard, she would retreat again. It seemed to Faye that she was always saying to the others “Where's Anne?” and sometimes they even forgot to ask. It was difficult to know the child, and she was never quite sure she did, which seemed an odd thing to say about one's own child, but it truly seemed to apply to Anne.

Ward and Faye waited for the elevator at MGM. They had their own complex of offices now, handsomely decorated all in white and bright blue and chrome. Faye had redone it all herself two years before, when Thayer Productions Inc. officially established permanent offices at MGM. In the early days they had had temporary offices there, and then they had set up shop halfway across town, and as a result, spent half their life in cars driving to meetings with the MGM staff. But now they were both independent and at the same time part of MGM, subcontracting to them for two years at a time, working on their own projects as well as those they undertook for MGM. It was an ideal position to be in, and Ward was satisfied with the way things had worked out, although he privately thought it was all because of Faye. He told himself that, and once confessed it to her, although she disagreed violently with him, insisting that he didn't appreciate his own worth. And he didn't of course. She had always been so much more the star, so much more in control of everything. She had known everyone in the industry for years and they respected her. But they respected him too now, whether he admitted it to himself or not, and Faye wished he would. It was difficult to convince him of how important he was. Somehow he was never quite sure. But in another way, that was part of his charm, the boyish ingenuousness that had followed him into middle age, and still gave him the appearance and the sweetness of youth.

Their car was parked in the parking lot, a black convertible Cadillac they'd had for two years. They kept a huge station wagon at home for when they went out with the kids, and Faye had a small bottle-green Jaguar she loved to drive. But somehow, even at that, they never seemed to have enough cars. Now that both Lionel and Greg could drive, they were always fighting over the station wagon, a situation which was about to end, unknown to Lionel, that afternoon. As a combination graduation and birthday gift, they were giving him one of the new little Mustangs that had just come out. It was bright red, convertible, with white sidewalls and red upholstery. Faye had been even more excited than Ward when they picked it up the night before, and they had snuck it into their neighbors' garage. They could hardly wait to give it to the boy that afternoon, after they all went to lunch at the Polo Lounge to celebrate, and there was to be a party for him at the house that night.

“It seems incredible, doesn't it?” Faye looked over at Ward as they drove home and she smiled nostalgically. “He's going to be eighteen … and graduating from high school … it seems like yesterday doesn't it, when he was just a little thing learning to walk?” Her words conjured up images of the old days, and Ward was thoughtful as they drove along. All of that had changed forever twelve years before, and it still saddened him sometimes when he thought of it. That had been such a good life, but so was this, and that didn't even seem real anymore. It was a lost world, and he glanced at Faye now.

“You haven't changed a bit since then, you know.” He smiled appreciatively at her. She was still beautiful, her hair was still almost the same peachy blond, and she colored the gray so it didn't show. At forty-four, her figure was still good, her skin clear and smooth, and the green eyes still danced with emerald fire. He looked older than she did now, by quite a bit, but it was because of his white hair. His blond hair had turned early, but it suited him. It was in sharp contrast to the youthful face, and she often thought that she liked him better like this. He looked more mature. She leaned over to kiss his neck as he drove.

“You lie beautifully, my love. I look older every year, but you're still pretty dashing, you know.”

He chuckled with a look of embarrassment and pulled her closer to him. “You're going to be cute thirty years from now, you know that? Necking with me as we drive along … pulled over maybe … catching a quickie in the back seat …” She laughed at the thought, and he noticed the long, graceful neck he had always loved, amazingly still free of lines. He often thought that she should have stayed in films herself. She would still have been beautiful, and she knew so much about the art. He was reminded of it every time he saw her direct, but she was so damn good at that too. There was very little Faye Thayer couldn't do. The realization of that used to bother him, but he was proud of her now. She was just one of those people who could do many things well. But the odd thing was that he was too, although he didn't recognize it, and would have argued, and often did, when Faye told him that. He didn't have the self-confidence she had, even now, or the drive, or the assurance that let her cast herself at anything, sure that she could accomplish it.

She glanced at the Piaget watch again now. “Are we late?” Ward frowned as he looked at her. He didn't want to let Lionel down. He wasn't as close to him as he was to Greg, but Li was his oldest son after all, and this was his big day, and when he saw the car … Ward smiled again.

“We're not late yet, and what are you smiling at?” Faye looked at him curiously.

“I was just thinking of Li's face when he sees the car.”

“God, he's going to die!” She giggled to herself again, and Ward smiled. She was so crazy about that boy, always had been, almost too much so, he thought sometimes, and too protective of him. She was never willing to let him take the physical risks Greg took, or be exposed to as many things. He didn't have Greg's physical strength, she always said, or his ability to take hard knocks, emotionally or otherwise, but Ward was never as sure. Maybe he would have been tougher, if Faye had given him a chance. And in other ways he was so much like her, he was as quietly stubborn as Faye herself had always been, as determined about what he wanted to do, at all costs, as certain. He even looked like her, if you squinted they could almost have been twins, and spiritually, they were, to the exclusion of everyone else sometimes. If Ward had been honest about it, he would have been jealous of the boy sometimes. She was so close to him as he grew up, they confided in each other so much, it left everyone else out, especially Ward, who resented it. Lionel was always polite to him, pleasant, but he never went out of his way to seek him out, to go anywhere with him … not like Greg, who bounded up to Ward the moment he came home, every night for the last sixteen years, or ever since he could walk anyway. Sometimes Ward even found him asleep on his side of the big double bed when he got home at night. Greg would have some urgent adventure to relate to him and wanted to be sure he woke up when they got home. The sun rose and set on his Dad, and Ward had to admit that that kind of passionate approval was hard to beat, and it made Lionel's shy aloofness seem even more difficult to penetrate. Why even try when you had a child like Gregory panting at your feet? But he knew he owed something to his oldest son. He had just never been quite sure what.

Even the car had been Faye's idea. It would make getting to UCLA in the fall so much easier, and his summer job too. He was working at Van Cleef & Arpels, the jewelers, on Rodeo Drive, doing errands and odd jobs, and he was thrilled. It wasn't the kind of job Ward would have wanted for him, and Greg would have hated doing something like that, but Lionel had gotten the job for himself, he had gone in for the interview with his hair freshly cut, dressed in his best suit, and he had obviously impressed them despite his age, or maybe they had known who his parents were. But whatever it was, he had gotten the job, and when he announced it to the family that night, it was one of those rare times when he had seemed almost childlike in his excitement, instead of more composed and mature. Greg had looked nonplussed, and the twins had been none too excited at the news. But Faye had been especially pleased for him, she knew how badly he had wanted the job, and he had gotten it all on his own. She had urged Ward to congratulate him too, and he had, but he had to admit he hadn't been all that pleased.

“You sure you wouldn't rather go to Montana in August with Greg?” He was going to work on a ranch for six weeks, and before that he was going camping in Yellowstone Park with a group of boys and teachers from school, but that was exactly the kind of thing the oldest boy hated most.

“I'd be a lot happier here, Dad. Honest …” His eyes were as wide and green as Faye's, suddenly terrified they wouldn't let him take the job, and he had tried so hard … but his father had backed down rapidly at the look on his face.

“I just thought I'd ask.”

'Thanks, Dad.” Lionel had disappeared into the solitude of his room. Ward had built on to the house several years before, they had no guest room anymore, and the maid slept in a tiny apartment built over the garage, but now each of the children had their own room in the main house, even the twins, who had been relieved to finally sleep apart, although they didn't admit it at first.

Ward and Faye drove into the driveway on Roxbury Drive, and the twins were already waiting on the front lawn. Vanessa in a white linen dress with a blue ribbon in her long blond hair. She was wearing new sandals, and carrying a white straw bag, and both parents thought instantly how pretty she looked, as did Val, but in a far more striking way. She was wearing a bright green dress that was so short it was closer to her crotch than her knees. It was low-cut in the back, and defined her lush figure perfectly, and unlike her twin, she did not look anywhere near fifteen. She was already using makeup most of the time, her nails were freshly done, and she was wearing cute little green French heels, but Faye sighed and glanced at Ward as he stopped the car.

“Here we go again … our resident siren on the march

Ward smiled benevolently and patted his wife's hand. “Let it go, babe. Don't get into an argument with her today.”

“I'd love to see her wash some of that crap off her face before we go.”

Ward squinted at her appraisingly, still from the safety of the car and then laughed. “Just tell people she's your niece.” He looked gently at his wife then. “She's going to be a beauty one day.”

“I'll be too old and senile by then to appreciate it.”

“Just let her be.” He always said that. It was his answer to everything, except Lionel of course. In Lionel's case, he always had to be told, reprimanded, made to conform. Ward expected everything from him. Always too much, according to Faye. Ward had never been able to understand how different the boy was, how creative he was, how sensitive, how totally other were his needs. But Val … she was something else … headstrong, demanding, belligerent. She was surely their most difficult child … or was it Anne, so constantly withdrawn? … sometimes Faye couldn't decide which was worse. But as she stepped out of the car, Vanessa came bounding toward her with that clear, easy smile, and she decided to be grateful for the easy one today. It was simpler that way. She told her how pretty she looked, put an arm around her and kissed her cheek.

“Your brother's going to be so proud of you.”

“You mean Alice in Wonderland here?” Val sauntered up, seething inwardly as she noticed her mother's arm around her twin, she had been watching intently when she kissed Vanessa's cheek. “Don't you think she's a little old for that look?” Valerie was everything mod, and in contrast, Vanessa looked like innocence itself. And now that she had approached, Faye could see a thick black line on Val's upper eyelid that made her physically cringe.

“Sweetheart, why don't you take some of that makeup off before we go? It's a little early in the day for all that, isn't it?” It was easier to blame it on the hour, rather than her age. Fifteen seemed more than a little young for Cleopatra eyes to Faye, and this sort of thing had never been her style anyway. But Valerie had adopted absolutely none of her mother's ways, or Ward's. She seemed to have her own ideas about everything, and God only knew where they came from, surely not from any of them, she told herself. She was straight out of a teenage movie about Hollywood, with some of its worst features exaggerated until her mother wanted to scream. But Faye attempted to remain calm now, as Val stood in front of her and visibly dug in her little green heels.

“It took a lot of time to put this on, Mother. And I'm not taking it off now.” “Make me” were the only words she forgot to add, and Faye wasn't sure she could have anyway,

“Be reasonable, sweetheart. It looks a little overdone.”

“Who says?”

“Come on, squirt, go take that shit off.” Greg had bounded out, wearing khaki slacks and a blue oxford shirt, a tie that was more than slightly askew and looked as though it might have spent the night under the bed for several years. His loafers were all banged up, and his hair wasn't quite lying down the way he wanted it to. But despite his obvious contrast to his father's far more debonair style, he was clearly a carbon copy of him, and Faye smiled as he glanced at Val with a shrug, “it really looks dumb.” But his words only enraged Val more.

“Mind your own business … you're nothing but a dumb jock anyway.”

“Well, I can tell you one thing. I wouldn't go out with a girl with all that goop on her face.” He looked her over and it was obvious that he didn't approve. “And your dress is too tight. It makes your boobs stick out.” She blushed faintly but was instantly furious with him. She had wanted them to, but she didn't want her hateful brother to point it out. “Makes you look like a tart.” He said it matter-of-factly but her eyes flew open wide and she took a swing at him, just as Ward came out of the house again and shouted at them both.

“Hey, you two! Behave! This is your brother's graduation day.”

“He called me a tart!” Valerie was furious with him, and Vanessa looked bored. They went through it all the time, and she secretly thought he was right, not that that would influence Valerie anyway. She was so headstrong and determined, she'd do exactly what she wanted anyway, or make their lives miserable for the rest of the day. They'd all been through it before, at least ten thousand times, with her.

“She looks like one, doesn't she, Dad?” Greg was defending himself against her ferocious swing, and standing nearby, Faye heard the wrinkled blue oxford shirt rip.

“Stop it!” It was useless, and they exhausted her when they behaved like this. They usually did it when she was bone-tired, after a bad day on the set. Gone were the days of quietly reading them stones at night by the fire, but she hadn't been home for most of that anyway. The baby-sitters and the maids had taken her place over the years, and sometimes she wondered if this was the price she had paid for it. There were times when they were completely out of control, like now. But Ward stepped in and grabbed Val's arm, speaking to her firmly in a voice that quieted her down.

“Valerie, go wash your face.” There was no ambiguity to what he said, no space for argument, and she hesitated for a moment, as he looked at his watch. “We leave in five minutes, with you, or without, but I think you should be there.” And with that, he turned his back on her and looked at Faye. “Where's Anne? I couldn't find her upstairs.” She didn't know any more than he did, she had come home from the office with him.

“She was here when I called. Van? Do you know where she went?”

Vanessa shrugged. It was impossible to keep tabs on that kid, she came, she went, she didn't talk to anyone, most of the time she was reading in her room. “I thought she was upstairs.”

Greg gave it a moment's thought. “I think I saw her go across the street.”

“To where?” Ward was beginning to get impatient with them all. It was beginning to remind him of those unbearable family vacations they used to take, to places like Yosemite, until they could finally afford to send them all to camp and have a little peace. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy his family, he did, but there were times when they all drove him nuts, and this was one of them. “Did you see where she went?” He noticed silently that Val had disappeared into the house, hopefully to take some of the makeup off, or maybe even the dress, although that seemed too much to hope, and it was. She emerged while they were still hunting for Anne, the thick black line on her eyelids had diminished by slightly less than half. The dress was just as tight and green. “Valerie, do you know where Anne went?” He looked at her exasperatedly, ready to kill them all.

“Yeah. She went to the darks'.” Simple. Finally. That child was always getting lost. He remembered the time he had spent three frantic hours hunting for her in Macy's in New York, only to find her outside, sound asleep in the back seat of their rented limousine.

“Would you mind running over to get her please?” He could see that the mod beauty queen was about to object, but after one look at her father's face, she didn't dare. She nodded, and ran across the street, the tiny miniskirt clutching her shapely rear. He glanced at Faye with a groan. “She could be arrested in an outfit like that.”

Faye smiled at him. “I'll go start the car.” And out of the corner of her eye, she saw Valerie escorting their youngest child back across the street. She was dressed more appropriately than the rest in a pretty pink shirtwaist dress, perfectly pressed, the right length. Her hair was shining clean, her eyes bright, her red shoes were freshly shined. She was a pleasure to look at, in sharp contrast to her far more flamboyant older sister. She piled into the station wagon into the farthest row of seats, not because she was angry at anyone, but it was where she liked to sit.

“What were you doing over there?” Greg asked as he got in, in front of her with one of the twins on either side. Anne was sitting alone, although usually Lionel or Vanessa sat next to her. It was no secret that she didn't get along with Val, and she didn't have much in common with Greg. It was Lionel whom she adored, and Vanessa who took care of her when no one else was around. Those were always Faye's orders to them, “Vanessa, see to Anne.”

“I wanted to see something.” She said nothing more, but she had seen it … the graduation gift … the beautiful little red Mustang … and she was so happy for him. She didn't say anything to anyone all the way to the school. She wanted it to be a surprise, and when they got out, Faye wondered if she knew. But she said nothing at all, she just followed the others into the auditorium, and sat down at the end of the row. It was one of the happiest days of her life, and one of the saddest too. She was happy for him, but she was sad for herself. She knew that in the fall, Lionel would be moving to an apartment he would share with friends on the campus of UCLA. Their Mom had thought he was too young, but Dad had said it might do him good. She knew why he had said that, because he was jealous that Li was so close to Mom. But now he would be gone. She couldn't imagine not living with him anymore. He was the only person she could talk to. He always had been. It was always Li who took care of her, even made her lunch for school, and made it with stuff she liked to eat, not dried-up old bologna, or rotten leftover cheese. That's what Vanessa or Valerie would have done. But Lionel made her stuff like egg-salad sandwiches, or roast beef, or chicken or turkey. He brought her books she loved to read. He talked to her late at night, explained how to do her math. He was her best friend. He always had been … and he tucked her in at night when Mom and Dad were at work. He had been more like a mother and father to her than they had ever been. And suddenly as she saw him on the stage, in his white mortarboard and white robe she felt tears in her eyes. It was like watching him get married … almost … just as bad in some ways. He was marrying a new life. And one day soon, he would be leaving her.

Greg watched him with envy, wishing he were the one graduating that year, if he ever did. His grades hadn't been good all junior year, but he had promised Dad he would pull them up next year … lucky creep … going to college … although Greg didn't think much of his choice. He thought UCLA was a dumb school. He wanted to go to some place like Georgia Tech where he could be a big football star, even though Dad was talking about someplace like Yale, if he could get in, of course he could play football there … he almost drooled at the thought … and the girls … !

Valerie was watching a boy in the third row. Lionel had brought him home a few weeks before and he was the best-looking guy she had ever seen. With smooth jet-black hair, dark eyes, he was tall, had clear skin, and he danced like a dream. He was also going steady with some stupid senior girl. But Val knew she was a lot better-looking than his steady girl, if she could just talk to him a couple of times … but of course Li wouldn't cooperate. He never fixed her up with anyone. And then there was John Wells, Greg's best friend. He was cute, but he was so shy. He blushed every time she talked to him. And he was going to UCLA eventually too. That would really be a coup to land a college boy, but for the moment her only success had been with three boys in her own sophomore class and they were all drips, and all they wanted was to feel up her boobs. She was saving the rest for a college man! Like the guy in the third row….

Vanessa was watching her twin, almost reading her mind. She knew her too well. She even knew which boys she would like. It was really a pain how boy crazy she was, and she had been like that since seventh grade. Vanessa liked boys too, but it wasn't an obsession with her; she was more interested in writing poetry and reading books. Boys were okay, but there had been no one special yet. And she was beginning to wonder if Val had already gone all the way. She hoped not. It would ruin her life if she did. Of course there was the pill … but you couldn't get it unless you were over eighteen, or something, or engaged. She knew that one of the girls in the junior class had gotten it by pretending she was twenty-one, but she couldn't imagine doing that, or wanting to.

Faye would have been relieved if she could have read her thoughts. She worried about those things too. But her mind wasn't on Greg, or Anne, or the twins, it was entirely concentrated on her oldest son, standing so beautiful and innocent and tall, singing the school song, his diploma in his hand, as the sunlight streamed into the room. She looked at him, knowing that this moment would never come again, he would never be this young, or this pure. Life was just beginning for him and she wished so many things for him as the tears poured down her cheeks and Ward silently handed her his handkerchief. She turned and looked at him with a bittersweet smile. How far they had come, and how dear they all were to her … especially Ward … and this boy … she wanted so badly to protect him from all the pain in life … all the disappointments, the sorrows, and instinctively, Ward put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him. He was proud of the boy but he wanted very different things for him.

“He looks so sweet.” She whispered to Ward. In her eyes, he was still a little boy.

Ward whispered back. “He looks like a man.” Or at least he hoped that one day he would. For the moment, he still had the slightly effeminate look of youth, and sometimes Ward wondered if he always would. He looked so much like her … and just as he thought that, he saw Lionel look out and into the crowd until he found Faye's eyes, and the two of them stared at each other lovingly, to the exclusion of all else. It made Ward want to pull her back, for her own sake as much as the boy's, but the two of them were beyond anyone's reach. They had always shared something that no one else could touch.

“He's such a wonderful boy.”

It made Ward doubly glad that Li would be moving out in the fall. He needed to get away from her. And he was even more sure of it when Lionel raced to hug Faye tight after the ceremony. The other boys were all standing around, holding hands with awkward-looking girls.

“I'm free, Mom! I'm not a high school kid anymore!” He had eyes only for her, and she was so excited for him.

“Congratulations, sweetheart.” She kissed him on the cheek and Ward shook his hand.

“Congratulations, son.”

They all hung around for a while, and then went to lunch at the Polo Lounge at the Beverly Hills Hotel. And just as Anne knew he would, he sat with her in the very last seat on the way there. No one thought it strange. He had sat next to her back there for years, just as Faye and Ward had sat in front, and Greg and the twins in between.

The crowd at the Polo Lounge was the same as it always was at lunch, showy, dressed in silks and gold chains and miniskirts, directors and writers and movie stars, people asking for autographs and phones being rushed from one table to the next, as people pretended to get important calls. Faye went outside at one point and called Lionel to congratulate him, and everyone laughed, except Ward. They acted like lovers sometimes, and it always bothered him. But the boisterous group had a good time anyway. And after lunch, they all went home and swam in their pool. Some of the kids' friends dropped by, so no one noticed when Ward and Faye snuck away stealthily and went across the street to the darks'. Ward drove the car almost up to the pool, honking frantically as Faye laughed, sitting on a towel in the front seat, in her wet bathing suit, as the kids stared, not understanding any of it at first, except that obviously their parents had gone berserk. And then Ward hopped out, walked over to his son, and handed him the keys as tears filled the boy's eyes, and he threw his arms around his father's neck, crying and laughing all at once.

“You mean it's mine?”

“Happy graduation, son.” There were tears in Ward's eyes too. He was touched by the boy's delight, it was a special moment that would never come again. With a shriek, Lionel hugged him again, while from the sidelines Anne watched him and beamed.

He invited everyone to pile into it, and Ward and Faye stood back as the children did, sitting on each other, on the seats, on the back of the car with the top down. “Take it easy, Li,” Faye admonished him, and Ward took her hand and led her a few steps back.

“Let him be, love. They're all right.”

And for an instant, just an instant, before he started the car and drove away, he paused, and met his father's eyes, perhaps in just that way for the first time, and the two men exchanged a smile. There was no need for any more thanks than that. And as they drove away, Ward felt as though he had just made contact with his son for the first time, finally.

CHAPTER 12

That night, there were a hundred people, most of them kids, invited to celebrate Lionel's graduation with a barbecue. And Ward and Faye had arranged for a rock band to play under a tent in the backyard. It was the biggest party they'd given in years, and the whole family was excited about it. Greg was wearing a wrinkled striped tee shirt and Jeans. His blond hair looked uncombed, and his feet were bare. Faye was about to send him back upstairs but he escaped, and when she said something to Ward, he said what he always did, “Let him be, babe, he's all right.”

His wife looked at him disapprovingly. “For a man who used to spend his time changing shirts three times a day and wearing white linen suits, you certainly don't seem to expect much of your son.”

“Maybe that's why. That was twenty years ago. People don't live like that anymore, Faye, and it was outdated then. We were practically dinosaurs, albeit lucky ones. Greg has more important things on his mind.”

“Like what? Football? Girls? The beach?” She expected more of Greg, like the kind of things Lionel did. But Ward seemed happier with their jock than with their more intellectual child. It didn't make sense to her, and it always seemed unfair that he expected so much less of Greg, and never appreciated Lionel's outstanding accomplishments, but the matter couldn't be resolved in one night. It was a difference they had always had, sometimes more vociferously, but this was a special day and she didn't want to fight with him. It was funny, they actually fought very seldom, but occasionally about the children they disagreed violently and exchanged harsh words … particularly about Lionel … but not tonight … please not tonight she thought to herself, and decided to give in about Greg.

“All right … never mind …”

“Let him have a good time tonight. It doesn't matter what he wears.”

“I hope you feel the same way about Val.” But it was a real challenge to both of them not to say anything to her. She was wearing a skintight white leather minidress with a fringed skirt with matching boots that she had apparently borrowed from a friend.

Ward leaned over and whispered to Faye as he poured her a drink at the bar, “What corner does her friend work on? Did she say?” Faye laughed and shook her head. It seemed to her that she had had teenagers for so long that almost nothing surprised her anymore. It prepared her well to deal with the actors at MGM. None of them could be more impossible, more difficult, more unpredictable, more argumentative than any teenaged kid, although many of them tried.

“I think poor Vanessa tries to counteract Vial's effect,” Ward said to Faye. She had worn a pink and white party dress that looked more suitable for a ten-year-old, and pink ballet shoes, with her hair done Alice in Wonderland style again. The two couldn't have been more opposite and Faye suspected it was no mistake. And looking around at all of them, Lionel in a light tan summer suit, looking handsome and dignified with a pale blue striped shirt and one of his father's ties, working at looking extremely grown up, the new car prominently parked on the front lawn, Greg in his wrinkled clothes … Valerie in the white leather dress … Vanessa in her childish garb … all of them individuals certainly, it reminded Faye of something again, and she looked at Ward over the drink he had handed her. “Have you seen Anne?”

“She was around the pool with some friends a while ago. She's all right. Lionel will keep an eye on her.” He always did, but tonight was a big night for him, and Ward had even looked the other way when he saw him pouring himself a glass of white wine. He had to let the boy let off some steam for a change, and if he got roaring drunk on graduation night, what harm could it do? It might dent his impeccable image for a change and that might do him good too. He just had to keep Faye busy enough not to keep an eye on him, and eventually he invited her to dance. Valerie watched them, horrified, Vanessa was amused, and eventually Lionel cut in and danced with Faye himself, and Ward went around to chat with friends, and make sure that none of the kids were getting too desperately out of line. A few of them were pretty drunk, but they were all Lionel's age, and this was their graduation night too. Ward felt that they had a right to get a little crazed, as long as none of them drove home, and he had given stern instructions to the parking valets. No one got the keys to his car if he appeared inebriated, and that applied to adult as well as child.

He spotted Anne sitting by the pool talking to John Wells, Greg's best friend. He was a sweet boy who worshiped the ground Greg walked on, and Ward suspected that Anne had a crush on John, but he wasn't likely to return her sentiments, considering that she was only twelve. She had some growing up to do, although Lionel treated her as though she already was, it was amazing how mature she could be sometimes. Far more than the twins, or even Greg at times. He wondered what she was saying to John, but she was so skittish and shy that he didn't dare approach them now, for fear that he would scare her off, and she seemed to be having a good time, and a little while later, Lionel joined them, and Ward saw John look up with a smile, his admiration for Li matching Anne's … the wonder of kids…. Ward smiled to himself, and went to retrieve Faye from a group of neighbors and friends. He wanted to dance with her again. He still thought she was prettier than any girl there, and it showed in his eyes as he slipped an arm around her waist.

“Care to dance?” He tapped her on the shoulder and she laughed when she saw who it was.

“I certainly would.”

The band was good. The kids were all having a good time. And Anne was enjoying herself with Lionel and John. They both treated her like an adult, which was more than most of the other kids did. She was tall for her age, and she had the same ripe peach-colored hair that Faye had had in her youth. One day she would be a beautiful girl, but she never quite felt like one. She thought she wasn't as pretty as Faye, or as spectacular as Val, and she thought Vanessa had quietly distinguished good looks. But Lionel always told her that she was the best-looking of them all and she told him he was nuts. She pointed out her knobby knees, what she described as “wimpy, weird hair,” because it framed her face in a soft fluff. She was just starting to develop breasts and she felt awkward about that too. She felt awkward about everything, except when she was with Lionel. He made her feel wonderful about everything.

“How do you like your new car?” John was smiling at the older brother of his friend, secretly admiring how neatly he tied his tie. He loved the way he dressed, but he would never have dared say that to him.

“Are you kidding?” Lionel grinned boyishly. “I'm crazy about it. I can't wait to get it out tomorrow and really go for a spin.” He smiled at Greg's friend. John had been hanging around their house for years, and he had always liked him. He was more interesting than most of Greg's jock friends, although he had discovered that by accident one day when he'd talked to John when Greg was out. Most of the time, John pretended to be like the rest of them, but Lionel correctly guessed that it was camouflage he wore, and there was a lot more to him than just football and track and the rest of it, which had never interested Lionel very much. “I start work next week, and it's going to be great having my own car.”

“Where are you going to work?” John sounded interested, and Anne watched the exchange, saying nothing, as she always did. But listening to her brother, and watching John's face. She had always thought he had beautiful eyes.

“Van Cleef & Arpels. It's a jeweler in Beverly Hills.” He felt a need to explain it to him. None of Greg's friends would have had any idea what that was.

But John laughed, and watching him, Anne smiled. “I know that. My mother goes there all the time. They have pretty stuff.” Lionel looked both surprised and pleased. John hadn't gagged at the thought of Lionel's working there. “Sounds like a nice job.”

“It is. I'm looking forward to it.” He beamed, glancing in the direction of the car again. “Especially now.”

“And UCLA in the fall. You're lucky, Li. I'm sick to death of high school.”

“It won't be long now. You've only got a year to go.”

“It feels like an eternity.” John groaned and Lionel smiled.

“And then what?”

“I don't know yet.” That wasn't unusual. Most of his friends hadn't figured that out.

“I'm doing cinematography.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

Lionel shrugged modestly. He had won photography awards ever since he was fourteen, and he had started getting into film two years before. He was ready for everything UCLA could offer him, and excited about going there, in spite of what his father said. His father had wanted him to go to a gung-ho school in the East. And he had the grades. But it had absolutely no appeal to him. He could sell that line to Greg.

He looked at John with a friendly smile. “Come and see me at school sometime. You can have a look around while you're making your mind up about schools.”

“I'd like that a lot.” John looked at him intently, and for a moment, the boys' eyes met and held, and then quickly, John turned away, and a moment later he spotted Greg. He seemed anxious to leave them then, and Lionel invited Anne to dance. She blushed furiously at the thought and refused to dance with him, but after he had insisted for a while, she relented and followed him onto the floor.

“What's that?” The boy who had wandered into the house with Val had followed her into the den, and he was determined to get a hand up her skirt, which didn't look too hard. But a coveted object pushed onto a shelf in the bar had caught his eye. “Is that what I think it is?” He was impressed. This was the first house he'd been in that actually had one of those, even though you sure heard about them a lot in L.A.

“Yeah. So what? Big deal.”

“It sure is.” He stared at it in awe, and then reached a hand out to touch it so he could tell his Dad when he picked him up. “Whose is it? Your Mom's or your Dad's?”

It seemed to cost her something to admit it to him. “My Mom's. You want a beer, Joey?” And then he almost fainted. There was another one. They had two!

“My God! She's got two of them! What for?”

“Oh for chrissake. I don't remember. Now do you want a beer or not?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Okay.” But he was much more interested in hearing what her mother had won the Oscars for. His Dad would ask him later, and so would his Mom, but Val didn't seem to want to talk about them. “She used to be an actress, didn't she?” He knew she was a director now. Everyone knew that. And her Dad was a big producer at MGM. But Valerie sure didn't talk about it much. She was more interested in booze and boys. At least that was the reputation she had, and he could almost see up her white leather skirt when she sat down. But actually all he glimpsed was a long expanse of inner thigh.

“Did you ever smoke dope?” He hadn't but he didn't want to admit it to her. He was fifteen and a half years old, and he had met her in school that year, but he'd never taken her out. He hadn't had the guts. She was beautiful, and terrifyingly mature.

“Yeah. Once.” And then he couldn't help himself. He had to ask again. “Let's talk about your Mom.”

That was it. She jumped to her feet, her eyes blazing with rage. “No, let's not!”

“Don't be so uptight for chrissake. I'm just curious, that's all.”

Val looked at him with contempt as she strode to the doorway and looked back. “Then ask her, you creep.” And with a flash of her red mane, she was gone, and he stared at the empty doorway in despair and whispered to himself.

“Shit.”

“Oh?” Greg stuck his head in to see who was there, and the boy blushed and jumped to his feet.

“Sorry … I was just relaxing in here … I'll go back outside.”

“That's okay. I do that here all the time. No sweat.” He grinned and disappeared, in hot pursuit of some dark-haired girl, and Joey went back outside. And eventually they all wound up in the pool late that night, in clothes, in bathing suits, in suits, in dresses, in sneakers and bare feet and shoes. They had a wonderful time and it was 3 A.M. before the last guest went home, and when they were all gone, Lionel walked upstairs with Ward and Faye, and all three of them yawned sleepily as Faye laughed.

“We're a lively bunch … good party though, wasn't it?”

“The best.” Lionel smiled, and kissed his mother goodnight, and when he sat down on his bed in the terry robe he had put on to cover his bathing suit, he sat and stared at the wall for a minute thinking of the day … the diploma … the white gown … the car,… the friends … and the music … and funnily enough, he found himself thinking of John, and what a nice kid he was. He liked him even better than some of his own friends.

CHAPTER 13

The day after the graduation party dawned like any other working day for Faye and Ward. The kids could sleep it off until noon, but they had to be at the studio by nine. Their next movie would be starting soon and the two of them had mountains of work on their desks. It always seemed to require so much discipline to go on, to work, no matter how tired they were, especially when Faye was actually directing the film. Then she was always at the studio before six o'clock, often before the actors were there. But she had to be there, to breathe the air, to get the feel of it. In fact, while they were shooting, it was always difficult to force herself to go home, and sometimes she did not. Sometimes she slept in a dressing room, eating, sleeping, and thinking the script, making it become almost a part of her, until she knew every character as though she had been born in their skin in another life. It was what made her so demanding of the actors who worked for her, but she taught them a kind of discipline they never forgot, and most of the actors in Hollywood talked of Faye Thayer with awe. Her kind of talent was a gift, and she was so much happier than when she had been acting herself. This was the fulfillment she had been looking for, and Ward loved seeing that light in her eye, that light that came only when she was thinking of her work. It made him a little jealous sometimes because he liked what he did, but not with the same determination, the same fire, as what she seemed to feel. She breathed her very soul into her work. And he was thinking of that now. In a few weeks he was going to lose her to their new film, but they both thought it was the best one they had ever done. They were both extremely excited about it, and more than once Faye had said how sorry she was that Abe Abramson was no longer alive. He would have loved this film. But he had died years before. He had lived long enough to see their success, to see her win the second Oscar of her life, this one for directing. But he had died after that, and she still missed him sometimes, as she did now. And she lay back against the seat, looking at Ward and thinking of the night before.

“I'm glad the kids had a good time.”

“So did I.” He smiled at her, but he was painfully hung over, and these days that was rare. He often wondered how he used to drink as much as he did. He couldn't take it anymore, without paying a tremendous price for it. Youth … he smiled to himself … a lot of things changed when you added a few years and gray hair … and other things did not. In spite of the hangover, he and Faye had made love that morning after he got out of the shower. That always got his day off to a good start, and he gently put a hand on her thigh now. “You still drive me wild, you know …”

She blushed faintly and looked pleased. She was still in love with him. Had been for nineteen years, longer if you counted the time they had met in Guadalcanal in '43 … that would make it twenty-one…. “It's mutual, you know.”

“That's good.” He looked pensive as he pulled into the MGM parking lot. The guard at the gate had smiled and waved them in. You could set your clocks by those two, he thought to himself … nice people … with nice kids … and they worked hard. You had to hand it to them. “Maybe we should put a communicating door between our offices, and a lock on my door.”

“Sounds good to me,” she whispered in his ear, and then playfully nipped his neck before sliding out. “What have you got going today, love?”

“Not a hell of a lot. I think almost everything is squared away. What about you?”

“I'm meeting with three of the stars,” she told him who, “I feel like I need to do a lot of talking to all of them before we start, so that everyone's prepared. So that they all know where we're going with this thing.” It was the most challenging movie she'd done. It was about four soldiers during the second world war, and it wasn't a pretty film in that sense. It was brutal and painful and tore your guts out, and most studio heads would have assigned a male director to it, but Dore Schary still trusted her, and she wasn't going to let him down. Or Ward. It hadn't been easy for Ward to raise the money for this film, in spite of their names. But people were afraid that no one would want to see a depressing film. After the assassination of John Kennedy the year before, everybody wanted comic relief, not serious film, but both Ward and Faye had agreed from the start, when they read the script, this was it. It was a brilliant film, the screenplay was magnificent, as the original book had been, and Faye was determined to do right by it. Ward knew she would, but he also knew how nervous she was.

“It's going to be okay, you know.” He smiled at her just outside her office door. They both knew it would be, but he also knew that she needed reassurance from him, and he knew that even more certainly as she answered him.

“I'm scared to death.”

“I know you are. Just relax and enjoy yourself.” But she didn't do that until they started the film, and then she plunged into it even more totally than she usually did. She never got home before midnight or one, was gone again by five A.M., and often didn't come home at all. Ward knew it would go on for months that way, and he had promised her he would keep an eye on the children for her, and he tried. She had always worked that way, when she was directing a movie she was totally involved, and when she was finished she spent her life folding shirts, doing laundry, driving car pools. She took special pride in it, but right now, even the children were far, far from her mind.

Ward came back to the studio to pick her up late one night, he didn't trust her to drive when she was that tired, or that wrapped up in her work. He was afraid she'd wind up in a tree off the freeway somewhere, so he came to pick her up, and she collapsed on the front seat of his car like a little rag doll as he leaned over and kissed her cheek. She opened one eye sleepily and smiled at him. “I may not survive this one….” Her voice was deep and hoarse. She had drunk gallons of coffee all day long, and talked endlessly, urging them on, begging for more from them, and her actors hadn't disappointed her. She looked at Ward and he smiled.

“It's going to be great, babe. I've been watching the dailies all week.”

“What do you think?” She had seen them herself, and she kept seeing what was wrong and never what was right, but in the last two days she had seen a ray of hope. The actors were really working hard, as hard as she was, to give it their all. “Think it'll fly?” She looked terrified as she asked. His judgment was better than anyone else she knew and she trusted him implicitly, but he was smiling at her.

“It'll fly right over the moon, love. And that Oscar is going to fly right into your hands again.”

“Never mind that. I just want it to be good. I want us to be proud of it.”

“We will.” He was sure of that, and he was always proud of her, just as she was of him. He had come so far, for a man who had started out never working a day in his life until he turned thirty-five. It was miraculous what he had done with himself, and she never lost sight of that. She was always proud of him, more so than he knew. Much, much more.

She lay her head back on the seat again. “How are the kids?”

“They're okay.” She didn't need the petty aggravations now. The cleaning woman was threatening to quit, Anne and Val had had a major fight, and Greg had put a dent in the car, but they were all minor problems he could handle himself. Still, he was always grateful when she finished work and went back to running the house. He often wondered how she stood the daily irritation of it all. It always drove him nuts, though he didn't tell her that. “They're all busy. The twins have been baby-sitting every day, Greg leaves for the ranch next week.” He didn't add aloud, Thank God. At least it would be quieter without the phone ringing, and doors slamming, and half a dozen of Greg's buddies playing catch with a favorite vase. “We hardly see Lionel now that he has a job.”

“Does he like it?” She opened her eyes. She would have asked him herself but she hadn't seen him in weeks.

“I think so. He hasn't complained anyway.”

“That doesn't say much. Li never complains.” And then she thought of something else. “I should have lined something up for Anne. I just didn't think we'd get going so soon.” But the money had come in, the set had been free. Everything had fallen into place, and instead of late September, they had started in June. That was unusual, and Faye didn't want to make trouble by saying that she wasn't free to start, but it meant deserting her kids for the summer, which was complicated, and Anne had steadfastly refused to go to camp. “What's she doing all day?”

“She's all right. Mrs. Johnson is there till I come home. She has friends over and they hang around the pool. I told them I'd take them to Disneyland next week.”

“You're a saint.” She yawned and smiled at him at the same time, and she leaned heavily on him as they walked into the house. The girls were still awake. Val's hair was set on giant curlers, and she was wearing a bikini that would have made Faye gasp if she had had the strength. She made a mental note to say something to her the next day, if she had time, and saw the child. They were listening to music in the den, and Vanessa was in a nightgown and talking to a friend on the phone, oblivious to the noise that Valerie was making.

“Where's Anne?” Faye asked Val and she shrugged, mouthing the words to the song. She had to ask again before Valerie answered her.

“Upstairs I guess.”

“Is she asleep?”

“Probably.” But Vanessa shook her head. She had the uncanny knack of listening to several conversations at once and often did. Faye went upstairs to kiss her youngest child goodnight. She already knew that Greg was out with friends, and Lionel was having dinner with some people from work a note in the kitchen had said, which accounted for everyone. She liked knowing where all her children were, and she often worried about that on the set. Ward was more relaxed than she was about letting them do what they wanted, and she wanted him to keep a tight rein on them, but he never did. He would have gone mad if he had, that and run the house.

She gently opened the door, and as she came up the stairs, she could have sworn she saw a light, but the room was dark now, Anne was curled up in her bed, her back to the door, and Faye stood there for a long moment, and then walked to her, and gently touched the soft halo of hair. “Goodnight, little one,” she whispered and then bent to kiss her cheek. She closed the door again and walked on to her own room with Ward, telling him about the film again and sinking into a hot bath before going to bed. And a few minutes later she heard the girls come upstairs, they pounded on her door and yelled goodnight, and she didn't see Vanessa go to her younger sister's room. The light was on again, and Anne was reading Gone with the Wind.

“Did you see Mom?” Vanessa searched her face and saw something strange in her eyes, something hidden and distant that was almost always there, except with Li. Anne shook her head. “How come?” She didn't want to admit that she had turned off the light and pretended to be asleep, but Vanessa guessed. “You played possum, didn't you?” There was a long hesitation again and the girl shrugged. “Why?”

“I was tired.”

“That's bullshit.” It made her angry. It was infuriating and so typical of her. “And it's not nice. She asked for you the minute she came in.” Anne's face didn't give an inch, and her eyes said nothing at all. “I think that was crummy of you.” She turned and started to leave the room, and Anne's voice reached her as she got to the door.

“I don't have anything to say to her.” Vanessa looked at her and walked out, never understanding the truth that Lionel understood so well. Anne was afraid that her mother had nothing to say to her. She never had. She had never been around when she was a little girl. It was always nurses or baby-sitters or maids, or one of the other children baby-sitting for her, while her mother worked, or went out or did something else. She was always “tired” or “had something on her mind,” or “had to read this script” or had to “talk to Dad.” So what was there left to say now? Who are you? Who am I? It was easier to talk to Lionel and avoid her … just as she had avoided Anne for so long. Now she had to pay the price for it.

CHAPTER 14

Faye was still deep into the film when Lionel moved into an apartment with four friends, and began classes at UCLA. He stopped in to see her the following week on the set just to catch up. He stood by waiting patiently for a break. He always enjoyed watching her work, and finally, after an hour of three retakes on a very grueling scene, she dismissed them all for lunch, and glanced up to see her son. She had been so intent before that she hadn't even noticed him arrive, and pleasure instantly warmed her face and she hurried over to give him a kiss.

“How's everything, sweetheart? How's the apartment, and school?” She felt as though she hadn't seen him in years, and she was suddenly lonely for all of them, especially him. She hadn't felt the full blow of his absence yet. She was so used to having him around, to having those wonderful chats with him and now he was gone. But she had been so busy at work that she hadn't had time to notice it yet. “Do you like your place?”

His eyes lit up enthusiastically. “It's pretty nice, and the other guys are fairly neat. Thank God there's no one like Greg.” He grinned, and she laughed thinking of the familiar chaos of Greg's room. Nothing had changed.

“Have you been home at all since you moved out?”

“Just once or twice to pick some stuff up. I saw Dad, and he said you were okay.”

“I am.”

“It looks great.” He nodded toward the stage she had just left, and she was pleased, like his father, he had a good eye for successful films. She got too caught up in details to see the whole, and they were better at that. They could stand back and see it differently. “That was some scene.”

She smiled. “We've been working on it for a week.” And as she spoke, their big star, whose scene it was, wandered over toward them, casting a glance at Lionel, and looking more seriously at Faye. He was as much a perfectionist as she, and she loved working with him. This was the second picture they'd done and she was very pleased with him. He was one of the up and coming stars of Hollywood, Paul Steele, and he sat down next to Faye.

“What did you think?”

“I think we got it the last time.”

“So do I.” He was glad that she had felt it too. “I was getting worried by yesterday. I didn't think I'd ever get this scene right. I stayed up all last night working on it.” She was, as always, impressed with him.

“It showed. Thanks, Paul. That kind of dedication is what makes it work.” But damn few actors were willing to work like that. He was. And he stood now, and looked at Lionel with a smile.

“You must be Faye's son.” People always guessed and both Faye and Lionel laughed.

“How'd you guess?”

Steele squinted with a grin. “Oh, let's see … the hair … the nose … the eyes…. Listen, kid, all you need is the same hairdo and a dress and you could be twins.”

“I'm not sure I'd approve of that,” Faye laughed, “in fact, I can tell you right now, I wouldn't.”

“So much for that.” Paul laughed.

“I was very impressed by your last scene, Mr. Steele.” Lionel was deeply respectful of him, and Steele was touched.

“Thank you.” Faye introduced them formally, and Paul shook his hand. “Your mother is the toughest director in town, but she's so good it's worth all the blood, sweat, and tears.”

“My my, such compliments.” All three of them laughed and Faye glanced at her watch. “We have about an hour, gentlemen. Can I invite you both to lunch in the commissary?”

Paul made a grisly face. “Christ, torture yet. Can we do better than that? My treat. My car is right outside the studio.” But they all knew there wasn't much outside the studio, and they didn't have much time. “All right, all right. I give in. Indigestion, here we come.”

“It's not that bad.” Faye tried to defend it to no avail. Paul and Lionel both disagreed with her vociferously and the threesome walked to the commissary. Paul inquired if Lionel was in school, and he explained that he had just started at UCLA, majoring in cinematography.

“That's where I went. Have you had time to figure out if you like it yet?”

“It seems great.” Lionel grinned happily, and Paul was amused. He was so young, but as they talked over lunch, it was obvious that he was a bright kid. He was intelligent and sensitive, knew a great deal about his chosen field, and talked intensely with Paul until Faye said they had to get back. And once they did, Lionel seemed to linger, wanting to absorb the atmosphere. Paul invited him into his dressing room, while he put his makeup on again and the studio hairdresser did something different to his hair. He was a prisoner of war in the next scene, and Lionel was dying to stick around but he had to get back to school. He had three more classes that afternoon.

“That's too bad. I've enjoyed talking to you.” Paul looked at him with a genuine smile. He was sorry to see him go. He liked the boy … too much perhaps … but he wasn't going to let it show, out of respect for Faye, and this very young boy. He wasn't in the habit of corrupting anyone, and virgins weren't quite his thing. But Lionel seemed anxious to see him again, much to Paul's surprise.

“I'd like to come back and watch some more. I have a free afternoon at the end of the week.” He looked at Paul Steele hopefully, like a child waiting for Santa Claus, and Paul wasn't quite sure if it was the film he was excited about, or something else. So he proceeded carefully. “Maybe I could come back then.” Lionel's eyes searched his, and Paul was no longer sure what he saw, boy or man.

“That's up to your Mom. She runs this show. She's my boss too.”

They both laughed and Lionel agreed. “Ill ask her what she thinks.” Paul worried for a moment that she would think he had put him up to it; he made no secret of his preferences. “See you Friday, I hope….” Lionel looked at him hopefully, and Paul turned away. He didn't want to start anything … he did … but it wasn't right … and he was Faye Thayer's son…. Christ, life was complicated sometimes. He lit a joint after the boy left, hoping to calm down again but it only made him long for him more.

When he went back to the set there was a hunger and loneliness in him that was almost an ache, and it came across in the film. They got the scene on the first take this time, an almost unheard of victory, and Faye congratulated him. But he was cool to her, and she wondered why. She thought nothing of his being pleasant to Lionel. She knew Paul well enough to know that she had nothing to fear from him. He was a decent man, and whatever he did with his spare time, he wouldn't take advantage of her son. She felt sure of that, and she wasn't upset when she saw Lionel on the set again on Friday afternoon. When he was younger, he had often dropped in to watch her work. Lately, he hadn't had as much time, but it was no secret that he loved the making of films. And now he would be making a career of it. She was actually pleased to see him there, and although he didn't show it at first, so was Paul Steele.

“Hello, Paul.” Lionel said the words hesitantly, and the moment they were out, he wondered if he should have called him Mr. Steele. Paul was only twenty-eight years old, but he commanded great respect in the industry. And Lionel was eighteen, and felt like a kid around him.

“Hi.” Paul looked casual as he walked past, on his way to someone's dressing room, praying that their paths wouldn't cross again. But late that afternoon, Faye offered him a glass of wine when they took a break. Lionel was standing there, obviously in awe, and Paul couldn't resist the urge to smile at him.

“It's nice to see you again, Lionel. How's school?” Maybe if he pretended to himself the boy was just a child, it would be easier. But nothing was easy when he looked into those eyes. They were impossible to resist. They were so much like hers, but deeper, more compelling, sadder and wiser in some ways, as though he were keeping some terrible secret inside him. And instinctively, Paul knew what the secret was. At his age, he had had the same secret himself. It was a lonely place to be until someone held out a hand to you. Until then you were a freak living in a lonely hell, frightened of your own thoughts and what other people would think if they knew. “What did you think of today's take?” There was no point treating him like a child. He was a man. They both knew that. And Paul looked him in the eye.

“I thought it was very, very good.”

“Would you like to see the dailies with me?” Paul liked to see them whenever he could, so that he could correct his mistakes. They were important to his work, and Lionel was flattered beyond words that Paul would invite him into such a special world. His eyes were huge with awe, and Faye and Paul laughed. “Now, listen, if you look like that, I won't let you watch. You've got to realize most of what you'll see is crap. Embarrassing crap, but that's how we learn.”

“I'd love to see the dailies with you.”

They watched them at around six o'clock, and as they took their seats and the lights went off, Paul felt Lionel's leg inadvertently touch his knee. He felt a thrill rush through him that was almost painful to refuse. But he carefully moved his leg away and forced himself to concentrate on what was on the screen, and afterwards when the lights came up, Lionel discussed what he'd seen with him, and amazingly they felt the same way about the same scenes. The boy was brilliant about film, intelligent, intuitive, and he had an instinct for style and technique. It was hardly surprising, he had grown up with it. But Paul was still impressed. He was dying to talk about it with him some more as Faye got ready to leave the set. She had to leave early tonight. For her seven thirty was mid afternoon and she glanced at them both, amused, as they rattled on.

“Have you got your car with you, love?” Faye asked him, and she looked tired tonight. But she had to go home and unwind, it had been a grueling week, and they were doing a scene at dawn the next day. She had to be up before three.

“Yes, Mom. I drove here.”

“Good. Then I';ll let you boys talk yourselves out. This old lady's going home. Before I fall on my face from sheer exhaustion. Goodnight, gentlemen.” She kissed Lionel's cheek and waved goodbye to Paul, and hurried outside to her own car. Ward had gone home ahead of her to have dinner with the kids. And Paul was stunned when he looked at his watch after that. It was almost nine o'clock, and they were the last ones on the set. He hadn't had anything to eat since lunch, and from something he had said he knew Lionel hadn't either. What harm could there be in having a bite to eat?

“Do you want to go out for a hamburger, Lionel? You must be starved.” It seemed harmless enough to ask, and Faye's son looked pleased.

“I'd like that, if you don't have anything else to do.” He was so young and humble it was embarrassing, and Paul smiled and put an arm around his shoulder as they walked to their cars. There was no one else around, so it couldn't be misconstrued.

“Believe me, talking to you is the most fun I've had in weeks, maybe even months….”

“That's a nice thing to say.” He smiled at Paul as they reached his car. Paul was driving a silver Porsche, and Lionel had the red Mustang he was so proud of.

“What a great car!”

“I got it for graduation in June.”

“That's some gift!” Paul looked impressed. At his age, he had bought a clunker for seventy-five dollars, but his parents weren't Ward and Faye Thayer, and he didn't live in Beverly Hills. He had come to California from Buffalo when he was twenty-two, and life had been beautiful ever since, especially in the past three years. His career had taken off meteorically, at first thanks to one fortuitous romance with a major producer in Hollywood. But after that, the breaks he got were thanks to his own strengths and abilities. There was no denying it, and few did. No matter what you thought of Paul Steele, he was damn good. But most of the people who had worked with him didn't have ugly things to say about him. He was a decent man, fair to work with, he kept to himself most of the time, and if you got to know him well, he could be fun. Between films, he was a wild man sometimes, smoking a lot of dope, snorting a little cocaine, he was into poppers, and there were rumors about orgies at his place, and kinky sex, but he took advantage of no one, no one got hurt, and working as hard as he did, he had to do something to let off steam, and he was still young after all.

He took Lionel to Hamburger Hamlet on Sunset, and had him follow him there in his car, driving carefully. For some reason, he found himself anxious about the kid. He didn't want him to get hurt, physically or in any other way. He liked him, more than he'd liked anyone in a while. It was just a damn shame that he was only eighteen. That was rotten luck. He was so damn beautiful and so fucking young. He couldn't take his eyes off him as they ate, and afterwards they stood outside, Lionel not even sure how to thank him for the honor and the rare treat, Paul dying to invite him up to his place, but afraid of how it would sound so they stood there, awkwardly, as Paul looked at him. He wished he knew what Lionel knew of himself, but he still wasn't sure of that. If the boy knew, maybe it would be different, but if he didn't even suspect as yet … just looking at him, Paul was already sure, but was Lionel? And then suddenly, as they stood there in the parking lot, Paul knew he had to take the bull by the horns, so to speak. Maybe he'd even ask him eventually. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe they could be friends. But he couldn't let him go … not yet … not now … not quite so soon.

“I know this sounds dumb. But would you like to come to my place for a drink?” He was almost embarrassed to say the words, but Lionel's eyes grew wide with delight.

“I'd love it.” Maybe he did know … Paul was going crazy trying to figure it out, and there was no way to guess.

“I live in Malibu. You want to follow me again, or leave your car here? I could drive you back afterwards.”

“Wouldn't that be a lot of trouble?” Malibu was an hour from there.

“No, not at all. I never go to bed very early. And I may not go to bed tonight at all. We shoot at four A.M. tomorrow, and I work better on calls like that without going to bed.”

“Will my car be safe?” They looked around, and decided that it would. The hamburger place was open all night, so people would come and go, and no one would dare break into it with people around. And that decided, Lionel slid into the passenger seat of Paul's Porsche and instantly felt that he had died and gone to heaven. It was like being lifted into another world, sitting on the smooth black leather seats, the dashboard looked like the panel of a plane and with a shift of gears they took off, and Paul turned the stereo on as the music of Roger Miller singing “King of the Road” filled their ears. It was almost a sensual experience getting to Malibu. Paul was dying for a joint, but he didn't want to smoke dope in front of the boy, and he was a little bit afraid of what he might do if he did, so he refrained, and they talked from time to time on the brief drive, listened to the music as they flew along, and by the time they reached the house on the beach, Lionel was totally relaxed with his new friend.

Paul put his key in the lock, and let them in, and the house just continued the same mood. There was a full ocean view with soft lights, a sunken living room filled with couches and soft cushions, huge plants and recessed lights that highlighted a few pieces of art Paul loved. There was a handsome bar, a wall of books, and a stereo that seemed to fill the whole world with soft music as Lionel sat down and looked around. Paul threw his leather jacket on the couch, poured them each a glass of white wine, and came to sit down with him.

“Well,” he smiled, “you like?” He had to admit, he was proud of it. For a poor boy from Buffalo, he had come a long, long way, and he was happy here.

“My God … it's so beautiful….”

“It is, isn't it?” He didn't disagree. They could look out at the beach, the sea. The whole world seemed to lie at their feet, and when they finished their wine, Paul suggested a walk. He loved to walk on the beach late at night, and it was only eleven o'clock. He kicked off his shoes, and Lionel did the same, and they walked out onto the smooth white sand, and Lionel thought he had never been as happy as this. He felt something he had never felt before, and he felt it each time he looked at this man. And it was confusing to him. He fell silent after a while, and on their way back, Paul stopped and sat down on the sand. He looked out at the ocean, and then at Lionel and suddenly the words just came. “You're confused, aren't you, Li?” He had heard his mother call him that and wondered if he'd mind the familiarity, but he didn't seem to object, and he nodded his head, almost relieved to admit what he felt to this man who was becoming his friend.

“Yes …” He wanted to be honest with him, maybe then he'd understand what he felt himself. He felt both very old and very young. “I am.”

“I used to feel like that too. Before I came out here from Buffalo.” He sighed in the night air. “I used to hate it there.”

Lionel smiled. “It must be very different than this.” They both laughed, and as the laughter subsided, Paul looked at him.

“I want to be honest with you. I'm gay.” Suddenly he was terrified. What if Lionel hated him for that? … What if he jumped up and ran away? … It was the first time he had been afraid of that kind of rejection in years and that frightened him. It was like taking a giant step back … back to Buffalo … to being in love with Mr. Hoolihan at baseball practice in the spring and not being able to say anything … just watch him in the shower and want so desperately to touch his face … his arm … his leg … to touch him anywhere … to touch him there … he turned to Lionel with frightened eyes. “Do you know what that means?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I don't mean just that I'm a homosexual. I assume you'd understand that. I mean do you know the special kind of loneliness that can mean to a man?” Paul emptied his soul into his eyes and Lionel nodded, never taking his eyes from him. “I think you do know, Lionel … I think you've felt the same things I have. Haven't you?”

Tears slowly ran down Lionel's cheeks as he nodded his head, and suddenly he couldn't bear looking into those eyes anymore, he dropped his face into his hands and began to cry, and a thousand years of loneliness welled up in him, as Paul took him in his arms and held him there until he stopped, and then he lifted his chin until he looked into his eyes again.

“I'm falling in love with you. And I don't know what to do about it.” He had never felt as free as he did just then. It felt wonderful to admit it to him, and Lionel felt his whole body turn to fire. Suddenly he understood things he had never understood before about himself … things he had never wanted to know … or was afraid to think about … he knew them all as he looked into this man's eyes. “You're a virgin aren't you?”

Lionel nodded and his voice was hoarse. “Yes, I am.” He was falling in love with him too, but he didn't know how to say it yet. He prayed that in time he would, that Paul wouldn't send him away … that he would always, always let him be with him….

“Have you ever slept with a girl?” He shook his head silently. That was how he had known. He had never wanted to. Ever. It just wasn't there. “Neither had I.” He sighed and lay back on the sand with a sigh, gently taking Lionel's hand and kissing the palm over and over again. “Maybe it's easier like this. The choice is made for us a long time ago. I've always believed that about people like us. I know we have nothing to do with the choice, and it's there even when you're a very little boy. I think I knew it way back then, but I was afraid to know.”

Lionel felt braver now. “So was I … I was afraid somebody would find out … would know … would see my thoughts … my brother is this all-out jock, and my father wanted me to be like that. And I just couldn't be … I couldn't…” Tears filled his eyes again, and Paul held his hand tight in his own.

“Does anyone in your family suspect?”

Lionel quickly shook his head. “I never really even admitted it to myself until tonight.” But now he knew. He knew for sure. He wanted it to be like this. With Paul. And no one else. He had waited for him all his life and wasn't going to lose him now.

But Paul was watching him carefully. “Are you sure you're ready to admit it now? You can never go back again. You can't really change your mind … some do, I guess, but I always wonder how convinced they are … I don't know …” He looked up at Lionel as they lay on the sand side by side. He was propped up on one elbow, looking down at him, and there was no one around for miles. The houses were lit up behind them like jewels, a thousand engagement rings he was offering him … a crown…. “I don't want to do anything you're not ready for.”

“I am … I know I am, Paul … it's been so lonely until now … don't leave me out there again….” Paul took him in his arms and held him tight, and he couldn't bear it anymore. He had done what was right. He had offered him a choice. He had never taken advantage of anyone and he didn't intend to start now with this boy.

“Come on, let's go home.” He stood up gracefully on the sand, and held out a hand to Lionel, who sprang up beside him easily, and with an easy, carefree smile, Lionel followed him home, hand in hand, as they talked, suddenly more animatedly. Suddenly Lionel felt as though a thousand-pound weight had been lifted from him. He knew who and what he was, and where he was going now, and suddenly it was all right. It wasn't as frightening anymore. They reached the house a few moments later, and walked back inside, feeling invigorated by the night air. Paul poured them each another glass of wine, took a sip of his, and lit the fire, and then he disappeared into another room, and left Lionel with his own thoughts and his wine, and when he returned, the lights were dim, the room was dark, the fire was lit, and he stood naked in the center of the room, beckoning to him. He said no words, and Lionel didn't hesitate. He stood up and followed him.

CHAPTER 15

Paul drove Lionel back to his car at the hamburger place at four in the morning, and they stood in the parking lot, looking at each other. It seemed odd to be back here. So much had happened since they had eaten here. It was remarkable. Lionel felt as though he had wings. It had been the most beautiful night of his life, and he felt a relief he had never experienced before. He finally knew what he was, and Paul had made it seem all right … more than that he had made it beautiful. And Lionel didn't know how to begin to thank him now.

“I don't know what to say … how to thank you …” he said, shifting from one foot to the other, smiling shyly at his friend.

“Don't worry about it. Do you want to see me tonight?”

Lionel could hardly breathe, and he felt excitement stir in him again. He hadn't known how incredible it would be, but with Paul it was. “I'd like that a lot.”

Paul narrowed his eyes, thinking of where they could meet. “How about meeting me back here again at eight? Just wait in your car, and then you can follow me out to the house. If I'm not too wiped out, we can make something to eat, or stop on the way. Sound okay?” It wasn't the way he usually liked to woo his men, but he was working long hours just then on the film.

“Sounds great.” Lionel beamed and then yawned sleepily as Paul laughed and tousled his hair.

“Go home and get some sleep … lucky boy. I'm going to be working my ass off all day.”

Lionel looked at him sympathetically. “Say hi to my Mom.” And then suddenly he looked shocked at what he had said.

Paul laughed. “I don't think I'd better do that just yet.” If ever. He wasn't at all sure how Faye would react to knowing that her oldest son was gay. “If she asks, I';ll just tell her we had a hamburger and you went home. Okay?”

Lionel nodded. What if he slipped? What if he himself said something to someone one of these days? It was a frightening thought, or was it? … Eventually people would have to know. He didn't want to live in hiding for the rest of his life. But on the other hand, he didn't want to tell anyone just yet … not yet … he wanted it to be his secret with Paul. “Have a nice day….” He wanted to reach out and kiss him right here in the parking lot, but he didn't dare, and Paul gently touched his cheek with warmth in his eyes.

'Take care of yourself today … get some rest, love.”

Lionel felt the power of his loving in his words, and his heart tugged as he watched him go. He waved as the silver Porsche drove away, and slipped into his own car, with his own thoughts. He could hardly wait until that night came, and when it did, he was waiting in his car, in a clean shirt and sweater, impeccable suede slacks, his hair neatly combed and a new brand of after-shave he had bought just that afternoon. And Paul recognized all the preparations as he stepped out of the car, and he was touched. He hadn't even had time to shower before leaving the set, but he didn't want to be late. He put an arm around Lionel and they hugged, and it was obvious that the boy was happy to see him again. Li was thrilled.

“How was your day, Paul?”

“Great. Thanks to you.” He smiled generously and the boy beamed. “I remembered all my lines, sailed right through everything, but we worked our asses off this afternoon.” He looked down at himself. He was still wearing fatigues from the set, but no one had said anything when he left. “Let's go home, so I can clean up and change.” He would have liked to take him to a gay bar he liked afterwards for dinner, or at least a drink, but he wasn't ready to introduce him to the gay world. Instinctively, he sensed that Lionel wasn't ready yet. He wanted this to be special, something that existed only between them, and Paul was willing to play the game for a while, staying away from his usual friends to be alone with him. Lionel decided to ride in the car with him again, and they stopped at a market on the way to Malibu. They bought a six-pack of beer, some wine, the makings of a salad, a bag of fresh fruit, and two steaks. It was a wholesome dinner for two, and Lionel said he knew how to cook.

As it turned out, he was as good as his word, and when Paul stepped out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist, Lionel handed him a glass of wine with a smile. “Dinner will be ready in five minutes.”

“Great. I'm starved.” But then, Paul set the wineglass down, and reached over to give Lionel a kiss. As they parted, their eyes held, and Lionel's heart soared. “I missed you today.”

“So did I.”

The towel slipped slowly from around Paul's waist, and he whispered at the boy as he fumbled hungrily with his belt. “Will the steaks burn if they wait?” Not that he really cared … he didn't care about anything just now except this young flesh … Lionel was one of the most exciting lovers he had had in a long time. He was so enthusiastic and new, every inch of him smelled sweet and good, his body was so young and firm. He tore the suede trousers down until he found what he sought, and Lionel groaned as Paul's mouth found him there. And a moment later, they were tangled on the wet floor, dinner forgotten, their bodies locked in passion.

CHAPTER 16

The affair went on through the fall, and Lionel had never been happier in his life. He was doing well in school, and Paul was still working on the Thayers' film. Once in a great while, Lionel dropped by the set, but it was too hard to pretend with Paul right there. He had to fight to keep his eyes away, and he was afraid that his mother would see everything.

“She doesn't know everything, you know.” Paul teased him once. “Even if she is your Mom. And I think she could take it if she knew.”

Lionel sighed. “I think so too…' But when he thought of Ward … “My Dad couldn't though. He'd never understand.”

Paul nodded, agreeing with him. “I think you're right there. I think it's hard for fathers to accept their sons.”

“Did your parents know about you?”

Paul shook his head. “They still don't. And I'm still young enough that they can understand why I stay single out here. But ten years from now, they'll really be on my back.”

“Maybe you'll be married and have five kids by then.” They both laughed at the absurd possibility. It appealed to Paul not at all. He had no bisexual leanings whatsoever. Women had never turned him on. But Lionel did. They spent most of their nights making love in his huge bed, or on the couch in front of the fire … or the floor … or the beach. It was an entirely sensual, erotic relationship, and everything about each of them turned the other on. Lionel had the key to the Malibu house now, and sometimes he went there straight from school, or else he'd go back to his own place and meet Paul in Malibu when he finished working later on. But he hadn't spent a night in his own apartment in months, and his roommates teased him every chance they got.

'Okay, Thayer … who is this broad? What's her name? When are we going to lay eyes on her, or is she one of these easy dames you hide from your friends and just screw all the time … ?”

“Very funny.” He tried to fob them off, he put up with their jokes, their admiration, their jealousy, wondering what they would say if they knew the truth. But he knew the answer to that. They would call him a fucking filthy little faggot and probably throw him out.

“Have you told any of your friends?” Paul asked him one night, as they lay naked in front of the fire, having just made love.

Lionel shook his head. “No.” All he could think of were the boys he shared the apartment with. Typical freshmen jocks, or young intellectuals, all dying to get laid and working hard at it all the time. Their sex lives were far less active than Lionel's, but in a totally different vein. They would have been horrified if they could see him now. Yet he was so happy like this. He looked tenderly at Paul, who was watching him carefully, as though trying to read his mind.

“You going to hide all your life, li? It's the shits. I did it myself for a long time.”

“I'm not ready to come out yet.” They both knew that.

“I know.” And Paul hadn't pushed. He didn't take him anywhere, although the boy was absolutely beautiful and his friends would have all drooled enviously, but he didn't want word to get out. It was only a matter of time, once he did go out with him, before people found out who he was. Faye Thayer's son … and then the shit would hit the fan. Paul wanted to spare them both that, and that seemed wise to both of them. Particularly to Paul, whose career could have been jeopardized if Faye or Ward went berserk when they heard, and they might well. The boy was only eighteen after all, and Paul had just turned twenty-nine. It could make a real stink, and it wouldn't do Paul any good. His PR agent still linked his name with actresses whenever possible. People cared about that stuff. No one wanted to hear that their idol was gay.

At Thanksgiving, Lionel spent the day with his family, feeling separate and grown up and strange and different from them now. He didn't have anything to say, he discovered, listening to them. Greg was so childish, and the girls seemed as though they came from another world. He couldn't talk to his parents now, and only Anne was bearable as he waited for the day to tick by. He was relieved when, after dinner, he could finally leave and go back to Paul. He had told his parents that he was going up to Lake Tahoe with friends, though of course he was spending the weekend quietly with Paul. Paul only had another few weeks of shooting left, and they were both relaxed.

It seemed only moments later when Christmas had arrived. Lionel did all his Christmas shopping as soon as he got out of school for vacation and he dropped in on the set one afternoon, while Paul was in his dressing room.

He didn't see his parents anywhere, so Lionel just drifted into the little room he knew well by now and flopped down in a chair. Paul was smoking a joint, and he offered it to Li, but he had never enjoyed it as much as Paul said he did. He took a quick hit, and gave it back, and the two men sat back and smiled at each other, as Paul touched Lionel's thigh. “If we weren't here, I'd have a great idea.” The two men laughed. They were so easy with each other sometimes they forgot there was something to hide. Paul leaned forward and they kissed.

And neither of them heard the door or the single step, but Lionel was sure he heard a sharp gasp and he pulled away to see Faye standing there, with her face frozen with shock and tears in her eyes. Lionel jumped to his feet instantly, and slowly Paul stood up, as the three of them stared at each other.

“Mom, please …” Lionel held out a hand to her, as tears sprang to his eyes. He felt as though he had just put a knife to her heart, but he didn't move and neither did she. She just looked at them both, and then she sank slowly into a chair. She didn't feel as though her legs could hold her anymore.

“I don't know what to say. How long has this been going on?” She looked from Lionel to Paul.

Paul didn't want to make things worse for either of them. And it was Lionel who spoke up, as he dropped his hands to his side with a defeated look. “A couple of months…. I'm sorry, Mom….” He began to cry, and Paul's heart went out to him. He stood up and went to his side, looking down at Faye. He owed it to him to stand by the boy now, but he knew how great the cost might be. She could destroy his career if she chose … it had been an insane thing to do getting involved with her son, and he regretted it now, but it was much, much too late. The damage was already done.

“Faye. No one's been hurt. And no one knows. We haven't gone anywhere.” He knew she would be relieved to know that and she lifted her eyes to him now.

“Was this your idea, Paul?” She wanted to kill him, but part of her told her that she was wrong, that it wasn't entirely his fault. She looked sorrowfully up at her son's tear-stained face.

“Lionel … is this … has this happened before?” She wasn't even sure what questions to ask, or if she had a right to know after all. He was a man, and if Paul had been a girl, would she have asked for the details? And the facts of this affair actually frightened her. She knew very little about homosexuality, and she wanted to know even less. There were plenty of gay men in Hollywood, but she had never made it her business to research exactly who did what to whom, and now suddenly it was her son standing there … her son had just been kissing a man … she wiped the tears from her cheeks, and looked at them both again, as Lionel sighed and sank into the chair across from her.

“Mom, this was the first time … I mean with Paul. And it isn't his fault. I've always been like this. I think in my heart I've known it for years, I just didn't know what to do, and he …” He faltered, glancing up at Paul almost gratefully, and Faye thought she felt sick. “… he introduced me so gently to all this … I can't help it. This is what I am. Maybe it's not what you want, and you'll never be able,” he gulped down a sob, “to love me again … but I hope you will….” He went to her and put his arms around her, burying his face in her dress, and there were tears in Paul's eyes too as he turned away. He had never been involved in anything like this, even with his own family. Lionel looked up at Faye again then. “I love you, Mom … I always have … I always will … but I love Paul too….” It was the most grown-up moment of his entire life, and perhaps he would never have to be this grown-up again. But right now he had to stand up for who and what he was no matter how much pain it caused her. She put her arms around her son and held him close, kissing his hair, and at last she took his face in her hands and looked hard at him. He was the same little boy he had been for the past eighteen years, to her, and she loved him just as much.

“I love you just as you are, Lionel Thayer. And I always will. You remember that.” She looked deep into his eyes. “No matter what happens to you, or what you do, I'm behind you all the way.” She glanced at Paul, as Lionel smiled through his tears. “I just want you to be happy, that's all. And if this is what your life is, then I accept it. But I want you to be careful and wise about what you do, who you see, how you handle yourself. You've chosen a difficult life. Don't fool yourself about that.” He already suspected it, but it was less difficult with Paul, and less difficult than hiding from himself all these years. She stood up again then and stood looking at Paul, her eyes bright with tears.

“I only want one thing from you. Don't tell anyone about this. Don't ruin his life. He may change his mind one day, give him that chance.” Paul nodded silently, and she looked back at her son. “And don't say anything to your father about this. He won't understand.”

Lionel visibly gulped. “I know he won't … I … I can't believe how great you've been, Mom….” He wiped the tears off his face again and she smiled through her own.

“I happen to love you a lot. And your father does too.” She sighed sadly, looking at the two men. It was difficult for anyone to understand. They were both so handsome, so virile, so young. It was a terrible waste, no matter what anyone said, and she had never thought it a happy life. Certainly not for her son. “Your father will never understand, no matter how much he loves you.” She hit the hardest blow then. “It'll break his heart.”

Lionel choked again. “I know.”

CHAPTER 17

They finished the movie five days after New Year's Eve, and the wrap party was the best Paul had ever seen. It was a major event that went on almost all night, with everyone leaving at last with the usual kisses and hugs and tears. For himself, he was relieved. No matter how understanding she had been, it had been difficult working with Faye for the last few weeks, and he knew the strain had shown in the quality of his work, although most of the important scenes had been in the can long since.

He suspected that she had felt the tension too, and he wondered nervously, as he had several times recently, if she would give him a part again. He loved working for her, but he felt as though he had betrayed her this time. And maybe he had. Maybe he should have walked away from the kid, but he had been so damn beautiful, so fresh, so young, and he had convinced himself that he was falling in love with him. He knew differently now. He was a sweet boy, but he was just too young for him. Unsophisticated, native, he would be fabulous in ten years, but just then there wasn't enough substance for a man of Paul's age. He felt like his father most of the time, and he was missing his old friends, the gay scene, the parties and orgies he went to, to let off steam, from time to time. It was an awfully sedate little life staying home night after night, staring into the fire. And the sex was good, particularly lately with the help of a little amyl nitrite. But he knew that it wouldn't last long. It never did with him. And then he'd have to live with the guilt of that. Life was just too damn complicated sometimes, he thought to himself as he drove home, but when he found Lionel, looking like a sleeping god, curled up in his bed, he had second thoughts about it ending for a long, long time. He quietly peeled off his own clothes, and sat down at the edge of the bed, running a finger down the endless length of Lionel's leg as he slept, and then stirred, and finally opened one eye.

“You look like a sleeping prince …” It was a whisper in the darkened room, lit only by the moonlight from the beach, and Lionel smiled and held out his arms to him sleepily. It was more than any man could want, Paul thought to himself as he abandoned himself to the pleasures of the flesh, and they slept late the next day. And went for a long walk on the beach. And afterwards, they talked about life. But it was in those moments that he realized again how young Lionel was. He smiled at him in a certain way he had, and Lionel looked annoyed.

“You think I'm just a baby, don't you?”

“No, I don't.” But he was lying to him. He did.

“Well, I'm not, and I've seen a lot.”

Paul laughed and it enraged Lionel more, and eventually it led to one of their rare fights, and that night Lionel went back to his own place. As he slid into his own bed for the first time in weeks, he wondered if things were going to be very different now, with Paul out of work. He would be free all the time, and Lionel had to go to school. He was diligent about that, despite his affair with Paul.

And within weeks, it became obvious that it did complicate things somewhat. Paul was restless much of the time, he was reading scripts, trying to decide what he wanted to do next, he was still nervous about Faye, and by spring he was tired of his school-boy love. It just didn't give him enough. It had lasted six months, which was a long time for him. And Lionel sensed it before Paul said anything. It was painful for both of them when it ended, but Lionel finally confronted Paul with it. He couldn't stand the strained silences between them anymore, and suddenly the house in Malibu seemed oppressive to both of them.

“It's over, isn't it, Paul?” He didn't look quite so young anymore, but he was, Paul reminded himself. He wasn't even nineteen. Christ. They were eleven years apart. Eleven years. And he had just met a forty-two-year-old man who had turned his legs to mush. He had never had an older lover before, and he was anxious to spend some time with him. But he couldn't with Lionel hanging around his neck. He looked at the boy now, and he had no regrets for what they'd done. He wondered if Lionel did, but he had never seemed to in all these months. He seemed to have found his niche in life. He was happy, his grades had soared. He seemed to have found himself. Maybe it was worth it after all. Paul smiled sadly at him. It was time to be honest and call it a day.

“I think it might be, my friend. Life is like that sometimes. And we've had a good run, wouldn't you say?”

Lionel nodded, looking sad. He didn't want to let go. But it hadn't been good for a while, except in bed. It was always good there, but they were both healthy and young, there was no reason for it not to be. And now he wanted to know the truth. “Is there someone else?”