Chapter 17
The plane gained altitude while the buildings and houses below him turned smaller until they looked like little dollhouses. For a moment, everything turned white. The sun bathed the wing and all he could see was a carpet of clouds stained with patches of green and gray.
'California, here I come', Darcy thought with irony. His encounter with Charles was now inevitable.
Of all this mess, this was the subject that was the most worrying. Elizabeth was already lost, there was nothing he could do to win her affection, but this was a confrontation that he still had to face and he had no idea of how it would come out.
"Did you read the script I sent you?" John Lucas asked from the seat next to him.
"Yes." Darcy turned his eyes to his friend and partner.
As he looked at his John, Darcy couldn't stop from feeling awkward. Now that everything seemed lost, the whole thing seemed to be completely unreal to him. It was as if John's affair with Elizabeth had been some kind of fantasy he once imagined and that he wasn't sure if it really happened or not and all this suffering would be in vain. What if it never happened at all?
"What did you think of it?"
Darcy smiled. "The script needs some rewriting, but the story is amazing."
"Why don't you work on it? You used to be good at that," John teased him.
"Not on this one, I think it deserves a good screenplay writer. Who sent it to you?"
John sighed. "A friend, a very good friend."
The first thing Darcy did when arriving in Los Angeles was call his friend. Unfortunately, the actor was in Wisconsin, enjoying a fishing trip with his father and brothers and was not coming back until the day of the party, in two days. They talked on the phone, Charles even invited Darcy to come along but the director declined due to his business obligations. He also preferred to tell him the truth in a more neutral territory in case Charles didn't react well to the news.
The day following his arrival was spent at the studios, discussing some changes that the executives wanted to make to the film. They were readying the first version to test the audience's reaction and Miramax wasn't sure that the public would accept its dramatic ending. Alternative solutions were studied, the possibility of adding five minutes wasn't discarded and they even talked about filming some additional parts to change the end of the movie in case it was necessary.
While he dressed for the party, Darcy thought of how to give Charles the news about Jane's pregnancy. Tonight's party didn't seem a good option. People would be surrounding them and knowing Charles' volatile temperament when upset, telling him that he was about to be a father when there were reporters all around him didn't seem a wise choice. Maybe he should invite him to have lunch on the following day, schedule it in a secluded place and tell him the news.
Shaking his head, he realized that he was delaying this too much. What was he afraid of? Charles wasn't so dangerous, when he was sober. He shouldn't have waited this long and he shouldn't be delaying this any more. If there was a chance to talk today, he would do it, if not, he would tell Charles that he needed to converse with him as soon as possible and fix this once and for all.
The party was the classic Hollywood feast, the perfect exponent of superficiality and post-modern decadency. The place was full of typical show business people: young actors and actresses exhibiting themselves in front the executives and the media, shallow blondes showing off their plastic surgeries, rapacious reporters, agents in search of new clients and marketing people. The two leading stars of the movie arrived in style, the way it should be, and did their job perfectly. Caroline was stunning, as always, doing her best to charm the press and the big shots and Charles was quieter than usual, posing only when asked, trying to keep himself away from the noisy mess that the party was turning into.
Darcy was too busy handling distributors and executives to be able to converse with his friend during the party. In the very few opportunities they had the chance to talk to each other, he noticed that Charles was not his usual self. He seemed distant, troubled, depressed. He had lost that cheerfulness and carelessness that had been his trademark.
By midnight, things were getting out of hand inside the salon. Some people were dancing, some were so drunk that they couldn't stand on their own and Darcy was getting tired of the entire thing. Charles had disappeared, John was conversing with two executives and Ann with some reporters. He wasn't in the mood to join them and he escaped to one of those adjoining rooms reserved for celebrities to use when wanting to regain their composure after drinking too much or when they wanted to interact with one of the girls at the party.
The first thing he saw when entering the room was Charles, spread out on a couch, loosened tie, talking to a beautiful girl. The girl was stroking Charles' chest and the actor was nibbling a glass of scotch. He heard him saying a 'no thanks, babe', and the girl insisting. Charles raised his glass in acknowledgment of the director's presence and the girl didn't care to look to see who was coming. She was stroking Charles' leg now and whispering something into his ear.
"I said no," Charles growled. "Now, get out of here."
She rose, muttering a curse, and glanced in Darcy's direction as she walked out of the room.
"Escaping from the noise, Darce?" Charles asked quizzically.
"You know I'm not fond of this kind of event," Darcy said evenly.
"And this one is particularly disgusting. I haven't seen so many whores together in ages."
Darcy observed his friend carefully. Charles was looking awful. He took a deep breath and joined him on the couch.
"I fear that we'll never see too many good girls in this business."
"There are good girls in this business, it just that they don't attend parties such as these."
"Yes, maybe you are right." Darcy looked down. "So, how was your fishing trip?"
"Fine." Charles drank a long gulp of whiskey.
"I'm glad to hear it," the director replied quietly.
There was a moment of silence. Darcy was pondering if he should begin his disclosure now, though Charles spoke first.
"I'm tired of all this, Darce," the actor said abruptly.
"You're an actor, Chuck; you know that promoting the movie comes with job."
"I wasn't talking about that. I don't mind sitting in front of the reporters, answering the same questions over and over again or showing myself at a party for the fans to see. It's this superficial world of vultures, alcoholics and prostitutes what I'm tired of. I'm sick of all these suckers that are constantly around me, telling me how fantastic I am, always trying to please me, to indulge me, as if fame were contagious and they would get it if they stay close."
"This is how it works, it's your decision to be part of it or not."
"Yeah, I know. I only wish they would stop following me. Did you see the whore that just left?"
"The blonde girl?"
"Yes, the girl," Charles smirked ironically. "She says I'm tense and offered me a very sexy way to help me relax. A blow job. And when I refused it, she offered me some pills to turn me on. What do you think?" The director listened silently. "That's what I'm tired of. The lack of decency, of morality, of respect or commitment."
"There was a time when you liked that side of this business."
"But not any more." Charles sighed. "That only served to drive the good people away from me. The only reason why I'm still at this party is because I have an obligation towards you and John and this movie. But if not, be assured that I would have left by now."
Darcy remained silent for a while. He had never expected to find his friend in this condition, so tired, so disgusted with the kind of life that he had until now fomented and enjoyed. He seemed changed, more responsible and mature. Again, he realized that he had erred in his assumptions.
"So you finally discovered that this stinks." Darcy smiled crookedly.
"Pretty late, isn't it?" Charles chuckled. "You've been telling me to slow down, that this is not how it works and it took me several years to realize it. What is that you always say? That the life is not only ..."
" ... tits and champagne."
"Especially when the tits are fake."
The director cleared his throat. "Maybe it's time for you to really settle down and find a good woman, get married and ..."
"What?" Charles snorted. "Marry? I'm sorry, I don't think it's possible. I blew my chances with the only woman I have ever loved and now she hates me."
Darcy looked at his hands, thinking that things could not get any worse. Charles was not only tired of his life, he was in love and suffering a disappointment.
"You know," Charles continued, "in a way, it's better like this. I know the kind of scum I can be and I would only make her suffer."
"Come on, Chuck, you're exaggerating." Darcy tried to lighten the mood. "You can't be that bad."
There was bitterness in Charles' smile. "I know what I'm talking about, Darce; even you tried to protect her from me. Don't tell me you don't think exactly the same."
The director felt his stomach turning upside down. That was true, he thought exactly the same, though hearing his friend loathing himself in this way made him feel as if he had been betraying him. But what was making him feel even worse was that he could almost guess the reason of his friend's sorrow.
"I tried to protect a woman from you?"
"Yes," Charles chuckled bitterly, "Back in Africa."
Oh no, Charles was pining over Jane.
"Jane Benedict, the most angelic creature on earth. You told me to stay away from her, don't you remember? " Charles finished his scotch in one shot. "And I'm almost sure that you didn't take her to Canada because of me. Am I wrong?"
Darcy didn't answer. There were very few moments in his life when he felt this bad.
"You were fucking right in keeping her away from me, Darce. I would have ruined her life."
"I didn't know you were still thinking of her."
"I never stopped thinking of her. Never. I tried to fuck every pair of tits that crossed my way since I came back to LA, and do you know what happened?" Darcy shook his head. "I couldn't, I just couldn't. I love her, Will. You may not believe me, but I really love her."
This only made the task ahead even more difficult. Charles was in love with Jane and he officiously separated them. "I never thought you were seriously interested in her."
"Why?" Charles smirked. "Do you think I'm incapable of professing any kind of genuine feeling?"
Darcy bent over, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin came to rest in an 'L' formed by his indexes and thumbs. "I thought you were only trying to seduce her."
"And you were right, that's exactly what I was trying to do. And do you want to know what I did when that didn't work?" Darcy listened quietly to his friend's catharsis. "I played the good friend, I pretended that my intentions were honorable so I could take her to bed. So as you see, I only proved your theory that I'm the filthiest scum in the world."
"Maybe you can try again, call her or ..."
"No, it's over." The actor waved him away. "She probably hates me."
"Why do you think that?"
"You don't know what happened." Charles let his head fall back and looked at the ceiling.
"Tell me. If this is both..."
"Tell you what? That I got her drunk and took her to my room for a shag? That I loved her all night long then I left! Even I am ashamed of what I did, William." Charles stood and began to pace the room. This pain had been inside of him for months and he just couldn't hold it back any more. "I'm scum, Will, I really am. I did everything within my power to seduce her and I did it! I didn't stop until I had her! And what did I do after that? I left her! She trusted me and I left! I did exactly what she said I would do!"
"Charles, you if you are so repentant about this, you could call her and explain to her the situation. Maybe you could fix this and ..."
"Oh, please! Even you were against us!" Charles was completely out of control. "I told her that I loved her, I left her a note, begging her to forgive me for taking advantage of her, asking her to contact me and she never called me! I even thought of calling her but I was just too afraid to hear her refuse me. She hates me, Will, I'm sure of that."
Darcy inhaled deeply. "Charles, I have something to tell you."
Charles stared blankly at him.
"I don't know what happened to the note you left her, but Jane tried to contact you."
After a long pause, Charles asked, "What?"
"She tried to reach you. She phoned my secretary asking if there was a way to reach you through me. I guess that she didn't have your number or she would have phoned you directly."
"You never told me." Charles' tone turned deadly serious.
"Charles, I thought you …"
Charles laughed, a bitter laugh. "Do you understand what I mean, now? You think that I'm not good enough for her."
"No, Charles." Darcy was feeling awful. "It's not that, I thought you were only trying to seduce her, that you didn't care about her, not seriously. I'm sorry I interfered, I should have told you."
"She really wants to see me?" There was a hint of hope in Charles' voice.
Darcy rubbed his face with his hands. How was he going to do this?
On seeing his friend's attitude, Charles sensed that there was something else going on. "What happened?" When Darcy didn't answer, Charles became alarmed. "William, what happened to her?"
"She's pregnant," Darcy said finally.
A long, intense pause followed that statement as Charles processed the information. His first thought was that she was with someone else and that the idiot got her pregnant. Then, he realized that it was impossible, that Jane would never do that. This was his child.
"She's pregnant?"
"Yes."
"But, how ... when did you learn that?"
"Two weeks ago."
"And you didn't tell me." Charles voice mingled incredulity and anger.
"I preferred to wait and talk to you in person."
"Fuck you, William!" Charles exploded. "Who the hell do you think you are? She's carrying my child and you chose not to tell me immediately?"
"Charles, I …"
Charles walked around the room running his hand through his hair. "God, she's pregnant, she tried to find me and I didn't call her back, I'm sure she thinks that I don't care about her. What am I going to do now? What if she decided to terminate this pregnancy?"
Darcy felt the blood drain from his face. He never considered the possibility. "No, she didn't. I'm sure she would never do something like that, I ..."
"I don't even know where she lives!" Charles paced nervously, his desperation blinding him from reason. "How am I going to find her?"
"I have her address, I can ..."
Of course, Darcy knew how to find her. He knew it all the time and didn't inform him. Charles stopped and glanced at the man he used to call his friend with eyes were full of contempt and resentfulness. Darcy was sitting on the couch, looking abashed, destroyed. Charles pitied his situation right now, but he wasn't ready to forgive him, not yet, he was too angry for that. Without saying a word, he left.
The director sat back and laid his head on the backrest of the couch. He had lost his best friend.
Darcy was leaning on the rail of the balcony looking into the night. What a mess. He really screwed things up. In less than three weeks, he had deliberately hurt two of the people he loved most. He looked down at the street, ten floors under him and thought of jumping. With a chuckle, he dismissed the thought. What a pathetic, imbecilic thing to do. He should be thinking of how to fix this instead of killing himself.
He had been terribly unfair with his friend. Whatever Charles had done in the past, he was his best friend and he had no right to judge him the way he had. He had thought him devoid of every proper feeling, thinking him incapable of assuming responsibilities or even acting like a man. Yes, Charles was very much the spoiled brat, the typical 'Hollywood product', but he had proven himself to be a good man and that he could be wise too. He had listened in the past, he had accepted sound advice and he had changed for the best.
Why couldn't he just have passed on Jane's message? If he was so worried about her welfare, a simple warning would have been enough. Charles wasn't stupid, he knew how to listen and he knew what was wrong and what was right. Yes, he disregarded his order the first time he called his attention on this subject, insisting with his capricious seduction, but he knew he would have listened had he tried a more friendly approach. But no, he had to think himself above the rest, with the power to decide who and how and when and keeping them apart claiming he was doing this for the best. If there was someone to blame for his present unhappiness, he was the only one.
So Elizabeth was right. He was nothing more than a presumptuous pig. He decided over other people's fate, not caring if he was hurting them or not. He had separated two people in love, not only condemning Jane to face a pregnancy on her own, but declaring his best friend incapable of love. He made them suffer and he knew he would never forgive himself for that.
"Will, I found you."
"Ann." He glanced at her.
"Searching for fresh air? Things are really getting heavy in there."
Darcy smiled and returned his eyes to the view in front of him.
"Well, it seems that they liked it." She was referring to the marketing campaign.
"Yes, so it seems."
Ann studied him. The pre-launch was a success, the movie promised to be a success too and he didn't look happy. Knowing him the way she did, she knew that something was troubling him. "Don't you want to talk about it?"
"About what?"
"Whatever is bothering you." She rubbed his back.
"I'm fine, Annie, don't worry."
"We used to understand each other in the past, Will, you can trust me." Ann placed a comforting hand on his arm.
"I know I can." Darcy turned to her.
Ann touched his face and hair. He was really looking bad. She moved closer and kissed his lips, very softly. Darcy's response was brief and emotionless.
"This is not going to work, Annie," he said as he placed his hands on her waist.
"Why do you think that?" She smiled pertly.
They were friends now, they had dated in the past and in one way, they both knew that there was no passion in their relationship, no love. But they had always been very sincere and up front with each other and this time Darcy wanted to make it clear to her how he was feeling about this. Ann was a wonderful person and she deserved that.
"I don't love you, Annie."
"I don't expect you to love me, Will, you never have." She chuckled softly. "I don't love you either."
He half smiled. Ann, always practical and direct.
"You are on your own, I'm on my own and this is what everyone expects from us."
Darcy smiled sadly. "I know that."
Ann combed his hair back with her fingers and smiled sweetly. She really cared for him. For two years they tried to be a couple, but it never worked. They were too similar, too practical and they never succeeded in taking their relationship beyond friendship and sex. He needed her support and comfort tonight and she was going to give it.
She pulled his head down and their lips met briefly, and then a second time. Darcy closed his eyes and tried to think it was Elizabeth who was the one kissing him. But she wasn't. She didn't taste, she didn't smell, she didn't feel like Elizabeth. It wasn't the deliciously curvy side of her waist he was holding, the fresh scent of her hair he was smelling or the soft sounds of her sighs he was hearing. This woman was taller, thinner, her hair shorter, her skin felt different, her mouth didn't taste like hers, her skin didn't feel like hers, she just wasn't Elizabeth. This was Ann, and Ann was there and he really needed someone tonight, anyone. Darcy allowed her to kiss him and returned the kiss without feeling, without transmitting anything.
"Let's get out of here," he said.
Ann noticed the sorrow, the pain in his eyes and smiled. He really needed a friend tonight.
They went to the hotel and they slept together. For her, it was just supporting someone that needed her; for him, not thinking, not suffering, not feeling, just mechanical, passionless sex. In the morning, Darcy left her room, feeling even emptier and lonelier that he was when he came.
"Lizzy? Where are you?" Amanda yelled enthusiastically.
"At Charsonville, near Orleans. You must see this place, mom, it's like a post card! It's full of these cute little farms where they grow vegetables and make their own cheese, it's lovely."
"And are you enjoying yourself in France?" What Amanda really wanted to ask was when was she coming back home. Her daughter had been touring France for more than three weeks and she was really missing her. She was only hoping that this 'inner soul searching' was over and she was on her way back.
"I am, but I'm getting tired of carrying this backpack and sleeping in cheap hotels; I think I'm coming home for the weekend."
"You will? Oh, Lizzy, that is fantastic! I can't wait to see you again." Amanda's eyes watered with tears.
Elizabeth didn't want to raise her mother's expectations too much. There were still many things to think about, to accept, to forgive and to let go before returning home. "I'll stay home for only a few days. I called Uncle Ed and he said he needs help at the office. I think I'll stay with him and Aunt Maddy for some time."
"Oh, of course." Amanda sniffed.
"Any news?" Elizabeth understood her mother's sorrow, but she wasn't ready to go back yet.
"Not much; your sister is doing pretty much the same, she failed her grammar exam, but she promised she would study for the next one." From the living room she heard Lydia's voice complaining about telling Elizabeth the news.
"And George? Did he call?" Elizabeth asked her mother.
"Only once. I told him that you were on the continent, that I didn't know when you were coming back. He sounded rather offended that you didn't tell him that yourself." Amanda lowered her voice so Lydia wouldn't hear her.
"I think I'll call him when I'm back and end things definitively. Got to go. Kisses for you and Liddy."
"Bye, sweetie."
"Bye, mom."
Elizabeth hung the phone and exited the hotel. Pensively, she walked down the street and saw a small café in front of her. She crossed the street and sat in one of the small tables that were set outside. It was a lovely, sunny October day. The trees were changing colors, the weather was becoming windy and brown and golden leaves would fly all around, announcing that fall indeed had come.
Not too far away, someone was listening to the radio. The first song she heard was 'How can I not love you' by Joy Enriquez, one of her favorites, then came 'Out of Reach' by Gabrielle, leaving that bittersweet taste of longing, of loneliness in her mouth and then one that put all her senses in attention. She didn't get the name, it was translated into French, but she recognized Robbie Williams' voice singing the song that Darcy had her listen to back at Rosings, the love theme of 'The Secret of the Mountain'. It was so sad, so beautiful, so intense and powerful. All those memories were back: dark eyes, that scent, the attraction, his kisses, her anger, his words. For the first time she wished that everything had been different, that they would have talked instead of fighting, clearing up all those misunderstandings. Maybe that way she would have been able to forgive. But no, it was too recent, the pain was too fresh. She couldn't forgive them yet.
The song ended and she rose from the table. Head down, she walked back to her hotel.