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.