The Spiral Path (52 page)

"Sadly true." Will Stryker
became deliberately flamboyant. "Every gay student at RADA tried to seduce
Kenzie at one time or the other. I mean really, who could resist? He was the
most gorgeous man." The set designer gave an exaggerated sigh. "He
always declined and went off with a girl. Polite but terribly, terribly
straight. Near broke my heart."

That kicked off a new round of questions
directed at Jenny and him. Was Jenny sleeping with Kenzie again? Did they have
plans for the future? Who were some of the other gay RADA students?

Desperately grateful for the
distraction, Rainey fought her way through the crowd, holding Kenzie's arm in a
death grip. Her burly driver, Jack Hammond, surged into the mass of people to
meet them, forcing open a path to the car.

As Hammond threw open the door, Dame
Judith Hawick joined Jenny and Will in front of the camera. Her stern gaze on
Stone, she said in a voice that sliced through the tumult, "Have you no
shame, sir? I had thought your kind couldn't possibly become more contemptible,
but I was wrong. You're like those fools who claim Jane Austen was a lesbian
because she and her sister shared a bed, as people often did before central
heating." She shook her head sadly. "What a world we live in."

Rainey slid across the backseat of the
car, pulling Kenzie in after her. He moved as stiffly as a marionette. Hammond
slammed the car door, then leaped behind the wheel, started the engine, and
pulled away from the shouting reporters.

Kenzie slumped into the corner of the
seat, his eyes closed. He seemed to have shrunk, as if his flesh had drawn
defensively close to the bones.

She took his hand. It was icy cold.
"You're in shock, Kenzie," she said, trying to sound calm. "Can
you talk?"

He opened blinded eyes. "Aren't you
going to ask ... if it's true?"

"Later, maybe." She chose her
words carefully. "I don't much care what you did in the past, Kenzie. I
care a lot about what happens in the present."

"Now comes the media
crucifixion."

"Not if I have anything to say
about it." But what could she do? Take one step at a time. "Is there
any chance Nigel Stone has any evidence of what he's claiming?"

"I ... doubt it."

She was painfully aware that he hadn't
denied the charges, only the probability of evidence. "You need to get out
of London. Better yet, out of England. If you stay here, the reporters will
make your life hell. You won't be able to set foot outside your hotel without
being mobbed."

A muscle in his jaw jerked. "I
could not ... endure that."

"Then you're leaving England."
She opened the sliding door to the driver's compartment. "Skip the hotel
and head straight to the airport, Jack."

"Will do." He hit his left turn
signal.

She closed the sliding door again,
thinking hard. Her baggage should already be on the jet, and her passport was
in her purse. What about Kenzie? Damn, since he was a British citizen, he
wouldn't have his passport on him.

He could do without clothes, but not a
passport. She found her cell phone and punched in Josh's number, waiting
impatiently through the English double rings. She was about to give up when he
answered, sounding half asleep even though it was almost noon. He'd left the
wrap party late, and had definitely had himself a good time.

Not bothering with small talk, she said,
"Josh, it's Raine. A hellacious tabloid scandal is breaking out--utter
nonsense, but Kenzie has decided to fly to the States with me to get out of the
firestorm. He's not coming back to the hotel because reporters might try to
intercept him there, so pack his things as fast as you can, and bring them to
the airport. If you think that will take too long, just bring his
passport."

Coming awake fast, Josh said, "I
can do the packing, though his clothes will be wrinkled like crazy. I'll call a
car now and be on my way in twenty minutes. London City Airport?"

"Right--the one you and Kenzie flew
into. And thanks, Josh."

She shut off the phone and closed her
eyes, shaking. Stone's highly public disclosure about Clementine was upsetting,
but basically old news. The claims about Kenzie were inflammatory and
dangerous, though. It was the sort of sex scandal the tabloids loved most--a
famous man with a good reputation accused of breathtakingly sordid behavior.

What could be done to kill this in its
cradle? If Stone had evidence of his charges, nothing could save Kenzie. If he
didn't have proof, though, maybe the story could be spiked before anyone took
it seriously.

Though Kenzie's friends had started
damage control, heavier guns must be brought to bear as quickly as possible.
From what Pamela Lake had said, Stone was disliked even by his colleagues. If
he couldn't document his claims, they'd turn on him like jackals ripping apart a
wounded member of the pack.

Time to summon the publicists. Though
part of a publicist's job was getting attention for clients, equally important
was scotching negative stories. Chloe, the smart, experienced unit publicist
who'd worked on
The Centurion
set, was based in London. She must be
called before the plane took off so Chloe could use her local media contacts to
undercut Stone's reports.

Next call: Barbara Rifkin, personal
publicist for both Kenzie and Rainey. Barb was tops in her field, with some of
the biggest stars in the business among her clients, and the protective
instincts of a tigress. An entertainment reporter who ran a story that Barb
didn't like risked never getting another interview with any of Barb's clients.

Then alert Naomi and Marcus Gordon. They
also had tremendous influence in Hollywood. A lot of people owed the Gordons
favors, and God willing, they'd use their clout on Kenzie's behalf.

Rainey glanced at her watch. It was the
middle of the night in California, so she'd hold off calling Barb and Marcus
until a more civilized hour. As she looked up the private number of the unit
publicist, she mentally rehearsed what she'd say. Outrageous charges by a
reporter known for his malice. Complete nonsense. Make it go away.

If Nigel Stone could prove his story,
she'd look like a gullible fool.

The phone rang in her hand, blasting
adrenaline through her system. She raised it. "Yes?"

"Raine, Pamela Lake here. Is Kenzie
Scott with you?"

Rainey stared at the phone. "How
did you get this number?"

"You gave it to me."

"Oh, of course." Remembering
that she mustn't sound too concerned, she continued, "It's been such an
exciting half hour that my wits are a bit scattered. Kenzie is here. Were you
covering Charles Winfield's memorial service?"

"Yes, but I was off to one side
interviewing the man who directed Winfield's last performance. Too far away to
be part of the riot." Pamela's voice was sympathetic. "Kenzie didn't
respond to Nigel Stone's charges. Does he want to make a statement now?"

Kenzie was in no shape to speak to
anyone. "Of course he didn't reply--he'd just been yanked from grieving for
one of his oldest friends by a journalistic ambush. Let me check if he's
willing to talk to you."

Covering the phone with one hand but not
enough to completely block sounds, she dropped her voice as low as it would go
and muttered a string of barely intelligible curses. Reverting to normal, she
said, "If that's all you have to say, Kenzie, you'd better not say
it." Speaking to Pamela again, she said lightly, "His comments on
Nigel Stone's accusation aren't fit to be printed in a family newspaper."

The reporter chuckled. "That
bad?"

Rainey lowered her voice confidentially.
"Usually Kenzie lets these wild stories roll off like water from a duck's
back, but this time he's completely exasperated. You know how reasonable he is.
He understands that reporters need to make a living, and he'll always allow
pictures and give comments when he's interviewed in public. The stories he's
made up about his past have been a way to provide copy while maintaining his
privacy. Don't you think he's entitled to that?"

"I do, though not all reporters
agree with me." Pamela paused, probably taking notes. "Is it fair to
say that he denies Nigel Stone's story?"

"A loose translation of his
statement is that sensationalist rubbish shouldn't be dignified by an
answer." Her voice lowered. "My personal, off-the-record opinion is
that Nigel Stone was inspired to this lunacy by one of the plot threads of
The
Centurion."
Any entertainment reporter who tried to read Sherbourne's
original novel to figure out what that meant would be bogged down for days.
Victorians wrote long and heavy.

"Kenzie is probably wise to avoid a
slanging match over this," Pamela agreed. "Can't imagine what dear
Nigel is going to produce as proof."

"Did Stone give any hints about
that?"

"He claims Kenzie was born in
London and named James Mackenzie, and he has a birth certificate to prove
it."

"I'm sure he could produce the
Prince of Wales's birth certificate if he wanted to, but that wouldn't put
Kenzie in line for the throne," Rainey said dryly. "There are a whole
lot of boy babies born in Britain every year. A birth certificate proves
nothing."

"My thoughts exactly."
Pamela's tone changed. "Are you really Clementine's daughter?"

"Yes. As I told Nigel Stone, it's
not a secret. I simply decided that I didn't want to trade on either her fame,
or her tragedy." Nor did she want the pain that always followed discussing
her mother.

"I grew up listening to
Clementine's records," Pamela said nostalgically. "'Heart Over Heels'
got me through more than one broken romance when I was single. She really
conveyed the pain of loving, but also hope for the future. I cried for days
when she died. I think she was the greatest female rock singer ever."

"I agree, but I'm not exactly
impartial."

Pamela's manner turned professional
again. "While we're on difficult subjects, are you still saying there's no
reconciliation in the wind between you and Kenzie? The two of you looked very
much together this morning."

Rainey hesitated. She was already using
the reporter, and she didn't want to lie any more than necessary to a woman who
had been decent and helpful. "The honest truth is that I don't know what's
happening, Pamela. If there should be any dramatic announcements in this area,
I promise I'll call you first. But don't hold your breath."

"Fair enough. Good luck at making a
getaway."

Rainey said good-bye, then called Chloe,
the unit publicist. After going through her prepared spiel and securing Chloe's
fervent cooperation, Rainey turned off the phone, unable to bear talking to
anyone else, even Val. The rest of the drive to the airport was in silence.
Kenzie stared blankly out the window, nearly catatonic.

With nothing to distract her, questions
about Kenzie's past circled compulsively through her mind. Could his intense
secrecy be because he really had been a gay hustler? Every fiber of her body
protested that it couldn't be true. The passion between them couldn't possibly
have been faked, not for almost four years. While it was theoretically possible
he was bisexual, she'd never seen him show a hint of interest in another man.
He'd always behaved like a straight male who was entirely comfortable with his
own sexuality.

Yet even if Nigel Stone had lied, there
had to be some connection to Kenzie's mysterious past. Kenzie's reaction was so
violent.

Could poverty have driven him to turning
tricks to survive? She supposed it was possible. She even wanted to believe it,
but the idea just didn't ring true. Kenzie would have found some other way to
survive poverty.

How would she feel if it turned out that
Kenzie really was bisexual? Starkly she recognized that she didn't want it to
be true. She had plenty of gay friends, had worked with gay and bi people and
never thought twice about what they did on their own time. This was ...
different.

Reluctantly she acknowledged that if
Kenzie was attracted to men as well as women, it would explain his conviction
that he shouldn't have married her, and would never marry again. It also
explained his reaction to playing Randall, a man ambivalent about his feelings
for another man.

Perhaps Kenzie had been so caught up in
the white heat of their early affair that he thought he'd be straight forever,
only to realize later that he'd been wrong. Maybe drifting into a meaningless
affair and letting Rainey be the one to leave was his way of letting her down
as gently as possible.

It was all horribly logical.

She wrapped her arms around herself,
shaking. She didn't think that anything could stop her caring for him, but dear
God, she didn't want this to be true!

CHAPTER 31