Skinnydipping (20 page)

“It’s Vince, sweetheart. I’ve missed you! Why haven’t you been in my life?”

“I don’t know, Vince. I guess you’d be the one to answer that question,” I said, matter-of-factly.

“To tell you the truth, sweetheart, I’ve been out of commission. I’m afraid I’d slipped into a bit of a binge, a bit too much of the hard stuff, and I’ve been … clearing things out, shall we say.” Clearing things out? What did that mean? Was he a drug addict?

“Do you mean you were in rehab?” I said.

“I was at the spa, darling, at Canyon Ranch.”

That was so L.A. Go to a spa and pretend it’s rehab.

“And you didn’t take me?” I laughed, trying to make it sound like a joke, rather than a bitter nag.

He ignored my question. “You know what the funniest thing is about people in California?”

“No, Vince. What’s the funniest thing about people in California?”

“They say they’re vegans, but they chain smoke. They go out jogging every morning like it’s a religion, and then they go home and do heroin.”

“Is that what you do?” I asked.

“No, no, dear. I never go out jogging.” He laughed.

My mind reeled. No wonder he hadn’t called me. He’d been detoxing! I was simultaneously filled with sympathy for him and anger that he hadn’t told me or called me in so long. Was he a junkie? Or was he kidding? Not that he had any obligation to tell me anything,
or call me ever again, but I’d felt a connection between us, and I was sure he felt it, too. There was something so sweet and appealing and sexy about him. How could he be an addict?

“Well, Vince, I’ve been pretty busy working. I’m sure it was nice at Canyon Ranch.”

“Oh, it was, darling. It reminded me of Australia out there. We must go sometime.”

“Sure,” I said. “I won’t hold my breath.”

He finally seemed to figure out I was pissed off. “Darling!” he said with surprise. “Sweetheart! Are we angry?”

I smiled. Damn his charm! “I don’t know about
you
…”

“Don’t be angry with me! I was going to call you right after that day I saw you at the restaurant. You were so gorgeous and confident in your little dress. But then I was … waylaid. I meant to congratulate you on your new job with Josh!”

“How did you know about that?” I said.

“Oh, Josh and I go way back,” he said. “And I keep tabs on you, darling. You know that.”

“I see,” I said, wanting to believe it. “And why are you calling me now?”

“
Now
…” He paused dramatically. “I’m calling to see if you would do me the honor, Faith Brightstone, of having dinner with me on Friday night.”

“That was a very gentlemanly invitation.”

“Spoken by an aspiring gentleman,” he said.

I paused, not wanting to sound too enthusiastic, but desperate to accept. He could tell me all about his troubles, his struggles to get sober. He’d confide in me, like he’d never confided in any other woman. He’d look deep into my eyes and he’d fall in love with me.

“Sure, Vince,” I conceded. “I’ll have dinner with you.”

chapter fourteen

A
s I lay in the giant bed in the Kamerons’ beach house with Jake early on Friday morning, I couldn’t stop thinking about Vince. Jake and I always had fun, but the more I got to know him, the more I realized that, famous or not, I probably was never going to take him too seriously.

Acting was everything to Jake, and it was all he really talked about. That, and his own biceps. He was a nice guy, but not particularly quick or witty. In some ways, he reminded me of what I’d learned at Meisenburg—he was like an empty shell that he could fill up with any character he wanted, but when he wasn’t being a character, there wasn’t that much to him. Maybe that meant he’d be a superstar—but it didn’t bode well for our relationship, such as it was.

Vince was different. Unlike the other men I’d met in Hollywood so far, he wasn’t needy, he wasn’t stupid, he wasn’t using me for anything. He was invested in his own career, but not at the expense of having a personality or the ability to actually listen when someone else was talking. And he just seemed genuinely to like me. Maybe that was the biggest turn-on of all.

Jake stirred and rolled over, draping his arm around my waist. “Hey, babe. What’s up?”

“It feels like you are,” I said, as his erection poked the back of my thigh. “But I’ve got to get to work.”

“Yeah, me, too,” he said, sadly. “Sorry, fella.” He liked to call his penis “fella.” I no longer found it cute. “But hey, I’ve got something to tell you.”

“Uh-oh,” I said. “Lay it on me.”

He rolled over onto me. “I’ll lay it on you,” he said, and kissed my forehead.

“Ha ha.”

“No, but really … I’m leaving town for a couple of months. Don’t be sad!”

I tried to look a little sad.

“I got a part in a movie that’s filming in Texas, and my parents moved there a few years ago, so I’m going to spend some time with them. I could even be gone through the end of the year, depending on how it goes. Are you gonna miss me?”

“Sure I am,” I said. And I would. A little. But I couldn’t help thinking that Jake leaving would open the door for me to start officially dating Vince Beck. The timing was kind of perfect. “But that’s great that you got another movie! You’re headed straight to the top.” I kissed him, just in case it would be for the last time.

Friday finally arrived—my date
with Vince. I was nervous. I hadn’t seen him in so long, and now that he’d been to rehab or detox or whatever it was, would he be different? Would he still drink? If he was off any drugs he might have been on, that was great. But was
I
allowed to drink? I had a feeling I was going to need a drink.

Once again, I found myself staring into my closet in desolation. I remembered Vince’s comment on our first date about the black dress. I needed something more colorful. He’d said I looked good in red. I took out my strapless red mini dress and looked at it. I brushed it off and smelled it. It still smelled faintly of smoke, from the last
time I wore it out to a club. Why hadn’t I gotten it dry-cleaned? I was annoyed with myself. I sprayed it with Chanel No. 5 and hung it up outside to air it out.

I was starving, but there was no way I was eating anything until tonight, when I would have to eat food like a normal person in front of Vince. To take my mind off food and calm my nerves, I decided to go ride the exercise bike at the gym for an hour, to burn off as many calories as I could before tonight.

After a long steam and a shower, during which I obsessed about Vince and how to make him fall madly in love with me, I plastered foundation over the dark circles under my eyes. I put on three coats of mascara, brushed just a little bit of glittery blush on my cheekbones, and decided to go with lip gloss instead of red lipstick this time. But then my face looked too shiny. I rethought the glitter and tried to wipe it away with a tissue but it wouldn’t come off. I didn’t want to start all over again. I rubbed off the lip gloss and went with a matte red lipstick that matched the dress.

I thought my black strappy stilettos might look best, but then again, I couldn’t forget Vince’s comment about going to a funeral. Did that apply to shoes? And even if it did, would I look weak for not wearing what I wanted to wear just because he’d made a comment? Like he’d ever remember he said it—but I remembered. I decided to go with the black shoes. Red dress, black shoes—a compromise. I can take constructive criticism, but I’m still my own person. I looked at myself in the mirror. “You look good,” I said out loud.

“You look
hot
,” said Perry from behind me.

I turned. “You think?” I posed for her.

“Oh, yeah. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Oh, nobody … just a certain
Vince Beck.
”

“No way. He finally called you? That’s awesome!” she said, clapping her hands.

“I can’t believe I forgot to tell you. And I’m
so
glad you’re home, I’ve just spent the whole afternoon totally obsessing about our impending
marriage and children and my future career as an NBC executive.”

“Of course you have,” she said. “That’s how you roll. Now, what are you going to wear for a wrap?”

A wrap! I hadn’t thought of that! A sweater? A shawl? A scarf? I didn’t have anything that matched. “Oh no! I don’t know!” I shrieked. “Is it too cool outside for this dress without one?”

“It’s getting that way,” she said. “But don’t panic. I think I have something.”

She went into her room and brought out a gorgeous light woolen scarf, incredibly soft, like cashmere, in an exotic pattern of reds, golds, and greens. “This is beautiful!” I said. “What is it? I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“Supposedly it’s called a pashmina,” she said. “It’s made out of some rare type of cashmere. It was really expensive, but I saw it at Bloomingdale’s last week and I had to buy it, now that I’m gainfully employed.”

I rubbed the pashmina between my fingers. “I’m in love with this,” I said. “I can’t believe everybody’s not wearing them.” Perry and I sat out on the veranda watching the waves and she helped me obsess some more, until Vince walked around the house and surprised us. He gave Perry a winning smile. “Good evening, darling!” he said. “You must be Faith’s lovely roommate.”

Perry gave me the “OK, this guy is good” look.

And he looked great. He had more color in his face than I’d ever seen, and he was a little slimmer. He’d always looked like a heavy drinker before, with that characteristic puffiness. Now he looked more like the outdoorsy type. “Arizona agreed with you.”

“That it did, darling, that it did,” he said, as he came over and kissed me on the cheek.

“Would you like a glass of wine or …” Perry looked stricken, suddenly remembering that I’d told her Vince had been in detox—or whatever. “Or … water?” she finished lamely.

“I think we should get going,” I said, glaring at her.

“At your service, Miss,” Vince said, offering me his arm. “Goodbye, dear!” he said to Perry. I realized I hadn’t introduced them, but we were already halfway out the door, so it seemed too late.

I recognized the black Town Car, although the driver standing by the back door was different. I guess Vince must not have his driver’s license back yet. The driver opened the door for us and we climbed in. “I wondered if you knew I moved out of my father’s house,” I said.

He took my hand and kissed it. “Darling, I always know where you are.”

That could be creepy. Or flattering. I decided to go with flattering.

“So… now that you’re all detoxed … do you feel different?”

He turned to look at me. “Interesting question, dear. Actually, yes, I’d say so.”

“And … in a good way?”

“Most definitely in a good way. Let’s say I can”—he brushed his fingers along my thigh—“
feel
things more sensitively. Probably all the yoga they made me do. And the meditation … ommmmm …” He put his hands palm up on his knees, thumbs and index fingers together, and closed his eyes.

“Mmm, well that sounds nice,” I said. But I had to get to the burning question, at least for me. “And … do you still drink?”

“Now and again,” he said. “If I feel like it. Why, darling? Were you afraid I was on the wagon? It was just a spa.”

He pulled me in closer and kissed the top of my head. “We’ll have a drink together tonight, darling,” he said. “I can promise you that.”

“Maybe even two,” I said.

A few minutes later, the driver pulled up in front of Boa Steakhouse and let us out. We walked under the arched entrance and into the restaurant. It was spacious with cream walls, dark wood, white tablecloths, and globe lamps casting a soft glow over the black leather booths.

“Good evening, Mr. Beck,” said the well-dressed hostess. “We have your table ready. Right this way, please.” It felt funny to be seated by the hostess, instead of being the hostess. But I could certainly get used to it.

I surveyed the menu with both interest and trepidation. Oysters? Crab cakes? Shrimp cocktail? My mouth watered at the thought of the New York strip, but I didn’t dare eat something that rich. Cobb salad? No way. I couldn’t eat all that bacon and egg and avocado. I was starting to get more and more nervous, until the waitress arrived with vodka martinis. Then Vince said to her, “We’d both like the shrimp cocktail, then the New York strip, two green salads with the house dressing, and let’s see, darling, what kind of vegetables do you like on the side? Spinach? Mushrooms? Asparagus?”