Celluloid Memories (14 page)

“Sorry,” he said easily. “The cleaning person didn't come today.”

“That's okay. Doesn't look like there's a lot for her to do.”

“In here,” he called out, disappearing into another room and turning on a light.

Savannah slowly followed him and found herself in a kind of library and media room. There was a flat-screen HDTV in the cubby space of a wall unit that also housed CD/DVD equipment, books, discs, lots of framed photographs and several awards that indicated that in high school and college McCoy had been a pretty accomplished tennis player.

“What are we going to watch?” she asked, as he looked through a stack of DVDs and removed one of the jewel cases.

“It's called,
Into the Night.
It's a police drama. Will Shelton is one of the players.”

“Oh, I've heard of that. One of my coworkers lent it to me, but I haven't had a chance to watch it. Taj…that's the guy I work with…said it was never released. I don't know why.”

McCoy shook his head. “It's a shame. Sometimes the decision not to put a movie in theaters is political. Or there might be some scandal involving some of the players. Or someone pissed someone else off. Who knows?”

“How'd you get a copy?” Savannah asked, as he turned on the TV, then the DVD player, and put the disc in.

“I mentioned Will Shelton's name to someone I know and he said he had something he wanted me to see.” He looked at her. “I haven't watched it yet, either. Have a seat.” He indicated one of two very roomy and comfortable lounge chairs.

She literally climbed into her chair, kicked off her shoes and curled her feet and legs into the cushions as well.

“Here, read this. It tells a little about the plot and characters. I'll be right back.”

Savannah took the page, which was clearly a computer printout from a Web site. The information seemed to be a press release, and was dated nearly fifteen years earlier. The plot was a kind of standard big-city police drama about a cover-up to protect a cop's affair with the beautiful wife of a powerful local politician. Will Shelton played the role of Detective Toni Freeman.

By the time Savannah finished reading the pages, McCoy had returned carrying a tray.

“I didn't know there was a concession stand,” Savannah said, delighted.

“Hey, I know how to do it up right,” he said. “Gotta have popcorn. This has
real
butter, not that yellow oily stuff from the movie theater.”

“I know it's deadly, but I love it.”

“Me, too,” McCoy admitted, making her laugh.

He placed the tray between the two chairs, on a small occasional table. Besides the big glass bowl brimming with popcorn, there was a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“Is wine okay, or would you like something else?” he asked, already opening the bottle.

“I prefer the wine. It adds a little extra class.”

Grabbing some popcorn in one hand, McCoy dimmed the lights, picked up several remotes and settled into his own chair. He hit Play and focused on the screen.

Savannah became absorbed in the story as soon as the opening credits were over. Her surroundings faded as the actors took over and she followed their adventure closely. But it was Will Shelton's presence that really held her attention, his and that of an actress who played a secretary to the politician. The attractive blonde was having an affair with her boss that even those cronies closest to him knew nothing about. The young actress in the role was young and beautiful, effortlessly presenting her character as more than just the other woman.

Something about her was vaguely familiar, but Savannah couldn't say that she really recognized the blond actress. Her character, however, was sympathetic, and Savannah silently cheered for her when she had the strength to end the relationship and walk away.

Yet, it was the strangest sensation to see her father speaking and acting as a different person, while knowing that it wasn't really
him.
The actor, Will Shelton, convinced her that he was a cop, street smart, and didn't take crap from anyone. He was profane, tough, and edgy in the role. That's not what he was like in the real world.

The film ended, and Savannah realized she wanted more of the actors and their on-screen story.

McCoy reached for the remote to stop the play of the DVD.

“I'd like to see the credits, if you don't mind.”

“If you want,” McCoy said.

While she watched the rolling list of names involved in the production of the movie, McCoy removed the remains of the popcorn and wine. She nodded when the name
Rae Marie Hilton
scrolled by as the actress playing the secretary. Seeing the actress interplay on screen with performers who were both black and white, Savannah had to admit that there had never been a moment when she didn't believe the actress in the part was white. Now that she'd seen Rae Marie in a role on screen, Savannah sat contemplating what her life must have been like, hiding such a big secret about herself.

Savannah wasn't about to judge her. But she didn't envy Rae Marie and the choices she'd had to make, either.

“What did you think of the movie?” McCoy asked, reappearing.

Savannah slipped on her shoes and stretched as she stood to face him. “It was a good drama. But I can't figure out why they wouldn't release it after all the time and work that went into it.”

“Yeah, I wondered about that myself. In any case…”

“Yes, in any case it's time for me to get home.”

She waited near the front of the apartment while McCoy turned off his DVD player and the lights. In just a few minutes they were back in his car and on their way to her home.

Savannah realized that neither of them seemed inclined to chat much during the drive, which was fine with her. She was still seeing both her father and Rae Marie on screen. She already knew that they'd worked together on a TV show, but didn't know if that had happened before or after the movie. Her father had known from the beginning what Rae Marie's secret was. She'd written so in her journal. How had he found out? At what point had their professional lives developed into a personal friendship? How had her father felt about Rae Marie's secret?

“Tired?”

Savannah sighed. “No, not really. I guess I should be.”

“It's been a long day.”

“Probably longer than you intended. I'm sorry for taking up all of it.”

McCoy shot her a brief glance. “You forget it was my invitation.”

“I know, but I really didn't expect it to be so full.” Savannah looked at his profile. “Thank you, Mac. Today was…it meant a lot to me,” she said almost shyly.

“My pleasure. I learned a few things myself.”

Savannah didn't ask what.

His cell phone rang then. It wasn't until that moment that she realized she'd been hoping that there would be no more interruptions. And although McCoy did look at the unit, he apparently decided the call could wait or wasn't important because he didn't bother to answer. Had he done that for her sake or his own?

She suddenly began to feel awkward and uncertain as they pulled up in front of the house. All conversation between them had stopped after that last phone call. McCoy turned onto her street. It was very late and very quiet, even more so once he turned off his engine. She was aware of her own heartbeat as he escorted her to the door.

Savannah had no idea what else to say to him, but the end of the evening felt anticlimactic. Just saying good night somehow seemed trite and formal. She certainly wasn't going to shake his hand, for the same reasons.

She stood between him and the now-unlocked door, his tall frame casting a shadow over her. Savannah took a deep breath and turned to face him. She felt, literally, backed against the wall.

“You know, one of these days you'll have to tell me exactly what it is you do.” McCoy made the preemptive first strike, making her smile nervously.

“Nothing very exciting. It's a job. I was an editor back on the east coast.”

“No interest in acting at all?'

“None. Zero. I don't think I have the talent or the guts.”

“No guts? I don't think I agree with that,” he drawled, amused.

He looked at her thoughtfully. Even in the dark, Savannah could tell he was studying her, as if trying to read her expression and words.

“So you've decided you're going to stay here. For how long?”

“As long as the weather stays nice,” she joked. “Maybe until I get my father's affairs in order. I have to decide what to do with all the memorabilia. Maybe forever.”

“Is it just the weather that could keep you here?”

Savannah was alert to the sensual tone of the question. It made her slightly breathless and McCoy's presence felt a little too close.

“I've made some good friends. Everything seems easier here. I never thought I'd say it, but I think L.A. is starting to grow on me.”

“I'm glad to hear that,” McCoy said.

When he began to lower his head toward her, one of his hands warm around her upper arm, Savannah had already anticipated that this was the way the day might end. The question was not
would
McCoy kiss her, but
how.
She stood still, her body poised between self-consciousness and curiosity. She felt the gentle pressure of his lips on her cheek, near the corner of her mouth. It was sweet. Nice. Safe. Just as Savannah was deciding she was a little disappointed, surprising herself with a sudden bold yearning, McCoy shifted to settle his lips on hers.

His touch this time was firm, light. She sighed as she closed her eyes and her mouth became mobile, fitting more naturally to his and experiencing the full shape of his lips. This felt better. And just enough.

McCoy straightened, rubbing her arm lightly before letting her go.

“I'm not an estate attorney but if there's anything I can do to help sort out your father's affairs, let me know.”

“Thanks. I will.”

He pushed open the door with one hand, urging her to go on inside, making sure she was safe before leaving.

“Whatever your reasons are, I'm glad you're here.”

He didn't wait for her response, which was just as well since Savannah had none. She watched as he headed back to his car. What, exactly, did he mean by that last comment?

She closed the door, leaning against it until she heard him drive away, and all fell quiet again.

 

There was something prophetic about the fact that she woke up to rain again on Sunday. Savannah was sure, however, that there would be no miraculous clearing in the early afternoon, as there had been the day before with McCoy. It was going to be the kind of day that encouraged staying inside, getting things done…reflecting, which she did.

It had been a long night, disturbing and restless, much of it spent thinking about McCoy. Savannah realized that the afternoon and evening in his company had completely changed her opinion of him. Everything she was learning about McCoy showed her someone who did not fit her stereotyped idea of the L.A. man, an opportunistic, self-absorbed and shallow person. But could she trust her own judgment? Savannah thought her track record indicated otherwise. Certain things about her past were another reason why she couldn't sleep.

Savannah, sitting in the living room paying bills, with the TV on as background white noise, also kept thinking of the woman she and McCoy had followed home the day before. Who was she? What was her story? More importantly, what was
her
connection to her father?

Then, just as suddenly, a wave of humiliation rolled over Savannah as she zeroed in on the image of another man, Jordan Nash. She'd known Jordan Nash in New York, and he'd also been accomplished and polished and convincing, like McCoy. She'd been in love with him and had believed Jordan felt the same. Two years is a long time not to have been given a reason to suspect anything else.

She experienced old feelings, old resentments surfacing quickly and, just as quickly, fading. She still smarted under the cold hard truth that Jordan had actually been playing her off against another relationship he'd been conducting at the same time. He'd literally been weighing his options, calculating which of the two women would win his hand.

Eenie, meenie, minie, moe.

Even worse, Savannah recalled that it wasn't as if she could have confronted Jordan on his cruel behavior. There had never been any promise of marriage exactly, but why should she have thought otherwise of someone who got high marks in the arts of courting, caring and affection? Why shouldn't she have believed him when he smoothly whispered, “I love you” at all the right moments?

Savannah put aside her small stack of bills. She stood abruptly and began pacing the room. She wandered to a window and looked out onto the slick wet street. Now the image of that tiny graceful woman getting into her car and hurrying away came to mind.