Chapter eleven

The next afternoon, rain pounded the windows and roof of Gail's farmhouse. Jagged lightning streaked from sky to earth, chased by severe booming that shook the windows. The intensity of the storm didn't disturb Gail, but the sugar maple that was now lying across the driveway did. She did a visual inspection from her bedroom window. The tree had narrowly missed her BMW and the corner of the garage. She heard other trees cracking. The maples swayed and a white birch bent severely, but she decided one tree was the limit.

Gail poured a small amount of Remy Martin and turned on the television. She turned off the lights and curled up on the sofa. With a cozy blanket over her legs, she clicked the remote to Showtime and selected the most recent episode of The L Word. When Rachel Shelley appeared on screen, Gail gave an audible "Omph." Shelley was a feast to Gail's eyes. She had to be British.

Gail grew restless. Watching the Brit on screen conjured thoughts of Tannen and the situation that had transpired. She suspected Tannen stayed at Karen's last night. Disappointed that Tannen hadn't called, Gail wondered if the gift remained unopened.

She turned off the television.

Lightning hit what seemed to be directly beside Gail. The house rocked, and a window shattered near the kitchen. She pulled the blanket over her head and curled against the back of the sofa. She wasn't afraid of thunderstorms. The blanket was to ward off the chill she felt. Alone in the darkening room, Gail felt embryonic. She was torn between growth or staying securely within the womb she had created and called her life. Life: Sucks, she thought, envisioning a colon separating the two words. Gail wondered if that would be the title of her next novel. It made no more sense than she did.

Gail tore the blanket from her head and reached for the glass of cognac. She never flinched when lightning hit once more and thunder cracked as though a Colt.45 fired next to her ear. She took two sips and a hand touched her shoulder.

"Shit!" she yelled and jerked the glass toward her assailant. The luxurious cognac splashed the sofa and Tannen. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"I'm stalking you." Tannen smiled. "Sorry, Gail. The thunder was so loud you didn't hear-" She was cut off by another boom of nature.

"You're soaked." Tannen resembled a wet ferret. Her hair lay flat against her head. Her clothing clung to her flesh and there was an eruption of goose bumps on her arms. Gail realized it was the first time she had noticed the hair on Tannen's arms. Fair-haired people are lucky like that.

"You have a tree down. I had to run up part of the driveway. We tried calling your mobile but kept getting your voice mail. We were worried about you." Tannen took the glass from Gail's hand and helped herself to what remained of her drink. "Hurricane Bette blew inland and we're getting the edge of it." Tannen shook her head several times to spritz Gail with rainwater.

"Thanks for that." Gail wiped her face and then she placed her blanket around Tannen's shoulders. "Go upstairs and change into something dry."

Gail was mopping the kitchen floor when Tannen returned. The storm was subsiding, and the sky was dark. A clearing would follow soon.

"Welcome to New England," Gail said. "Hell and damnation fall from the skies, and in the next minute-skies are bluer than blue."

"It's incredible," Tannen said. "We don't experience violent weather like this in England."

Gail propped the mop against the wall. She grabbed a kitchen chair and set it near Tannen. "Don't move," she said and pushed Tannen by the shoulders onto the chair. When she returned from the bathroom, Gail plugged a blow-dryer into the wall. "You should have done this when you changed your clothes." With the dryer on low, Gail slowly ran her fingers through Tannen's hair. It feels good to touch you again.

Tannen leaned her head against Gail's belly.

"That feels good," Tannen said and closed her eyes. "Jordann introduced herself to me last night."

Gail balked and then continued drying Tannen's hair. "I was wondering about that."

"She apologized."

"How considerate of her," Gail said. "She should have shown me such consideration."

Tannen turned her head and looked up at Gail. "That took two, darling," she reminded her and turned forward. "I thought it was very brave of her."

"I suppose it was." Gail noticed Tannen's roots were still very blond. "Is your hair dyed?"

"Yes, for the film we just wrapped," Tannen said. "I told Jordann how I was feeling, but I also explained that she hadn't knowingly stepped on my toes."

"Really? You didn't give me that impression last night."

"I was angry and probably more with myself for not telling you I would be there. I wanted to surprise you." Tannen mocked her bad timing, "Surprise!"

Gail guided one hand through Tannen's hair, lifting and separating the strands. She extended the drying time with slower strokes. Sensuously, her fingers fondled and cut through Tannen's hair.

"Almost done. Hold this." She handed the dryer to Tannen and went back to the bathroom. This time she returned with a dollop of moisturizer. Gail massaged it into Tannen's hair, dried it more, and then gave her the bed-head look. "All done. You look mah-velous."

"Thank you." Tannen stood and faced Gail. Threading her forefingers through the front belt loops of Gail's jeans, she looked seriously into Gail's eyes. Gail still saw love in them. "What do we do with this mess we've gotten ourselves into?"

"I don't know, Tannen. I'm still Gail Prescott." A touch on Gail's arm suggested Tannen would not throw in the towel. "Still Gail, but going through changes attributed to a certain actor lady."

Tannen nodded.

"I'm going through changes, too. A month ago I would have enjoyed seeing Jordann's head on a pike."

Gail laughed loudly. "You're much too British."

"I think it's in our blood! Especially after all those head-lopping Tudors."

"Consider it a peculiar quirk through historical genetics." Gail positioned the kitchen chair under the table. "How about we don't get into the emotional part of this for now? I'm feeling drained."

"All right," Tannen said.

"Did you open the package I gave you?"

Tannen perked up. "No! It's in the car." She rushed out the door.

Gail returned the blow-dryer to the bathroom and then entered her writing room. The house darkened as power drained from the electrical lines. She heard the back door slam.

"It appears the gods have seen fit to darken our doorstep. Where are you, darling?"

"In the writing room."

Gail sat on the I-never-imagined-you-would-kiss-me sofa. With package in hand, Tannen sat next to Gail. Wide eyed, like a child sitting beneath a Christmas tree, Tannen pulled at the green ribbon. She tore into the neon pink paper and removed the cover. If her smile grew any wider, it would have forced Gail from the sofa.

"This is unbelievable!"

Gail leaned against the back of the sofa and tucked her feet under her. "They're very difficult to come by," she said.

"I was expecting a Gatsby paperback." Tannen pulled the bound papers from the box. She ran her hand over the front. "Tenfold. Original Screenplay by Gail Prescott." She looked at Gail. "What made you change your mind?"

"Your persistence. It won't kill me to work on the project with you."

"When did you find the time for this?"

"The day I came back from your apartment. I had to invade your privacy to see the format you used. Sorry about that."

Tannen ran her hand over the cover again. "Oh, darling. This is wonderful." She leaned against Gail. "I need a producer," Tannen said, slipping into her Hollywood mode. "I have to call Pam and Janeane." She glanced through the pages. "We'll need to edit, straightaway. One hundred and forty-two pages is much too long to film. We can begin tonight."

"That's fine, if we get power back." Gail quickly stood and Tannen fell to the cushioned sofa, onto her side. "I have to find someone to destroy that maple tree in the meantime." She used her cell phone to contact a work crew for the outside clutter.

Well into the afternoon, she and Tannen sat on the floor of the room, hovered over a small table, and worked by candlelight. Tannen cut some of the verbose narrative and often tossed complete pages to the floor. She wrote notes in the margins. It was painful for Gail, but she let Tannen carry on. Outside, the gardener and two other men dismantled the fallen maple. Shuffling papers fell nearly silently, against the buzzing of chainsaws and grinding of a wood chipper.

"We're whittling it down to nothing," Gail said as her script became thinner.

"Neither the story nor the dialogue are lost. We're doing away with pages the actors and director will take care of." Tannen sat erect and pointed to herself. "Moi," she said proudly. "Pour us a drink, darling?"

Gail looked at the pages strewn over the floor and shrugged. At the bar, she poured two glasses of wine and returned to the room. Tannen took the glass without looking up from the script.

"Thank you, Gail," Tannen said. "I love this line: 'uncorrupted, azure skies that would never realize the poison of acid rain.'" She looked up through her reading glasses and pulled Gail down beside her. "I admire how you write. It's very clean and very visual."

"As opposed to the way I speak?"

Tannen nodded while still looking at the script.

"Sometimes you spew rubbish."

"Honest to a fault," Gail grumbled.

Tannen removed her glasses, gathered the final papers, and stacked them together. Gail estimated a third of the script was about to hit the shredder as quickly as the tree branches were zipping through the wood chipper.

"That's it, for this round." She bound the usable set of papers with metal prongs and returned it to the box.

"What do you mean?"

"Changes. Dialogue on paper doesn't always work for film, and that is especially why I need you to do the adaptation." Tannen looked at her watch. "Shall we invite Karen and Jeff for some steaks?"

"I'm not in the mood for company."

Gail stood and gathered the script rejects. She turned on the shredder and fed the pages quickly. When she looked up from the shredder, Tannen was sipping her wine and watching her. She walked back to Tannen, sat beside her, and waited while Tannen placed her glass of wine on the table.

"Maybe we should talk, Tannen."

Tannen leaned over and pulled Gail's mouth against hers. Warm, sweet wine trickled into her mouth. The heat of the wine traveled directly through all parts of Gail. Each part twitched and demanded Tannen's touch. Her heart pounded. Tannen straddled Gail's legs and tilted her backward. The trickle turned into a steady flow that Gail savored and drank, until Tannen pulled away.

"I want you," Tannen breathed against Gail's mouth. She licked a drop of wine from Gail's chin. "I don't want to quit you." Her mouth covered Gail's once more.

Gail sat erect, kissing and biting feverishly at Tannen's lips. Her hand found the cord of Tannen's lounge pants. She pulled it quickly to loosen their grip on Tannen's waist. Gail thrust her hand into the pants and stopped only when her fingers found the warmth and wetness between Tannen's thighs. She palmed Tannen and took an eager hold. "You're soft as mink." She moved to Tannen's breast and took a stiff nipple into her mouth through the T-shirt.

Tannen moved against Gail's hand. Her breath was hot against Gail's ear as she leaned down and licked it. Gail released her hold, grabbed a pillow, and tossed it on the floor. Tannen lay back and Gail swiftly pulled off Tannen's pants. Tannen sat up and pulled Gail's T-shirt over her head. She flung it behind her and unzipped Gail's jeans. Gail hustled them over her hips and pushed them aside. Tannen yanked off her top, reclined, and reached for Gail.

"Come here," Tannen whispered.

Gail grasped Tannen's hands and placed them to her sides. Tannen was smaller than she appeared on film, but she still possessed plump, inviting breasts. Gail resisted their temptation and ran her fingers swiftly along Tannen's thighs and up to her hips. She pulled Tannen onto her side. She outlined the curvy hip with her tongue and moved slowly to Tannen's shoulder. She moved to Tannen's breast and took the nipple into her mouth. Tannen moaned while Gail sucked gently.

Gail released the nipple and rolled Tannen onto her stomach. She lifted Tannen's foot and, closing her eyes, pressed it against her cheek. She caressed the front of Tannen's toes and they wiggled with sensitivity. Gail heard a soft giggle. "I'm ticklish there," Gail remembered and nibbled the bottom of the foot. Tannen wiggled her foot from Gail's grasp.

Gail bit into the calf. She chased it with bites, gentle and some not so gentle, to Tannen's ass. She lightly touched inside Tannen's thighs, dipping her fingers into the moisture, evoking a strong, guttural sound from Tannen. Gail pushed her to her back, then leaned down and placed her lips atop the mink-like curls that assured Gail that Tannen was naturally blond. Gail brushed her fingers against the top of the curls and exhaled a slow, warm breath against Tannen.

"Gail. Please." She pulled Gail into her.

Gail touched her tongue to Tannen's lips. She dipped slowly between them and back out. "You taste mah-velous."

"I want more. Take more." Tannen pleaded, lifting her hips in search of Gail's mouth.

Although starved for Tannen, Gail compelled herself to stop. She stretched beside her and pulled their bodies together. They kissed voraciously, gluttonous for oral fulfillment. Their mouths fought for dominance but each conceded both lips and tongue gratefully.

"I love your body, Tannen. I want every inch of you." Tannen moaned and bit into Gail's shoulder. "Bite harder. Make me feel you there." Tannen sank her teeth into Gail's shoulder. Gail groaned at the light pain. "Yes. That's it."

Gail shuddered when she felt Tannen's fingertips against her labia. "Mmm." She pushed against Tannen's hand. Gail opened her eyes and looked beyond Tannen. She froze.

"Stop!" she shouted and jumped to her feet.

"This is bollocks, Gail! What the hell is-" She stopped. "Oh, bloody hell!" She jumped up when she saw Gail's T-shirt and sofa ablaze.

Gail grabbed the shirt and rolled it into a ball. The sofa cushion burned brighter when a loose sheet of paper blew onto it. Gail smothered the small fire with the smoldering shirt. Tannen closed the window and grabbed the screenplay. She slapped her hand against the burning, curling edges. With her bare foot, she stomped out another loose sheet.

Then the smoke alarm went off.

"A day late and a dollar short." Gail's voice shook from her sudden panic. She handed the T-shirt to Tannen. "Take this to the kitchen sink and soak it. I'll look for more."

Gail searched for other possible small fires. She blew out the candles along her way through the room. She checked outside the doorway. Clearly they had doused the final fire. Gail went to the bar, grabbed three large bottles of spring water, and returned to the smoky writing room. She twisted one cap off and poured the water over the smoldering sofa. Tannen turned off the alarm.

Tannen looked around. "How could we not smell the smoke?" She dropped the wet shirt onto the blackened sofa.

"I guess it was above us." Gail shrugged and poured the second and third bottles over the sofa.

"This is my fault, darling. I threw your shirt without paying attention to the candles." She looked at the ruined sofa. "That's a goner. I'll get you a new one."

"A shirt or a sofa? Don't be silly. Both of us should have been more careful. Are you all right?"

"Better than the sofa."

Gail and Tannen looked at each other. Both were still naked as the day they were born. They laughed and met halfway for a hug. "Come on. Let's curl up in the other room."

Gail remained nude, but Tannen slipped back into her clothes. They snuggled under the light blanket and leaned against the back of the sofa. Tannen was thoughtful enough to bring the bottle of wine and they both took a sip. Tannen placed it on the floor, and they turned to face each other. Gail's fingers moved gently through Tannen's hair. Tannen ran her hand along Gail's leg.

"You had no inclination to run out on me," she said softly.

"No." Gail held Tannen's hand. "But I should be more responsible and see what kind of mess is outside." She kissed Tannen's fingertips.

"Maybe later for us, then?"

"Definitely later. Let's talk for a few minutes."

"Good." Tannen straightened up. "Darling, there's something I want to ask you."

"Shoot."

"I'm uncertain about the topic, but let me start by telling you that David and I still have a very spiritual relationship. Probably the craziest thing is he talks to me in my dreams. For example, each time I was nominated, he told me I would win the Oscar."

"Really? Maybe you're the crazy one for thinking he talks to you." She smiled.

"I'm not. He's very present when he thinks I need him." She looked at Gail. "You may choose to believe that or not."

"It would have been nice if he had given you a little nudge that my sofa was on fire," Gail said and Tannen nodded. "Do you need him now?"

"That's the uncertainty." She pushed her bangs away from her eyes, much to Gail's disappointment. "His message confuses me. Since my London trip, he's been telling me to ask you about Olivia."

Gail's heart sank and she took a deep breath. She wanted to pull the blanket over her head and curl into her fetal position again. No one but Karen knows about Olivia. Why would Karen betray my confidence? There's no way I'll believe that a night of pouring out my heart and soul to a photograph of David Pierce would prompt Tannen's inquiry. It had to be Karen!

"I don't know anybody with that name," she said casually, but felt her adrenaline begin to flow again. Gail's mouth became dry when she parted her lips to continue breathing.

"I'm sure the name is Olivia." Tannen bit at her lip. "It's not possible for me to confuse it with another."

Gail reached for the wine bottle. "I suppose not. The name isn't so common." Gail opened the bottle slowly but did not remove the top.

"That's true, but not my reason. Olivia," she said. "Plainly, he said Olivia, and more than once. It's perplexing for me since you have no connection to the name."

"Maybe he meant-" Gail tightened the bottle again and placed it back on the floor. It was time to end this conversation and tend to the business outside. Before Gail could steal away, Tannen threw a curve.

"I can't confuse the name, darling. That's what makes this confusing. You see," Tannen emphasized the next four words, "my name is Olivia."

Gail flinched and narrowed her eyes. "It's your name?"

"Yes. I was born Olivia Quinn."

Gail became uneasy. The conversation felt like another setup. Karen and Tannen had been together all night. It was plenty of time to devise continuing plans to manipulate her.

"Are you joking, Tannen?" she asked, now agitated. "Are you bullshitting me?"

"There's no need to be defensive, Gail. My birth name is Olivia Quinn. Why does that upset you?"

"Because I have the impression that Karen has opened her mouth concerning a very private matter."

"She's done nothing of the kind, darling."

"How can I believe that?" Gail shook her head. "The two of you had the idea of not telling me you're bisexual. That was for your benefit. How do I know this isn't another setup? How do you benefit this time?"

"Gail." Tannen moved closer. "Karen has nothing to do with this. Yes, we did as you said, but only because I want to be closer to you."

"Well." Gail scowled. She felt her nostrils flare with her anger and confusion. "You did that. You got closer and I've presented you with the screenplay you were after. It's yours now. Take it, and your name, back to Hollywood. Stop messing with me, Tannen."

"Darling, you're not listening. I love you. Karen loves you. There's no conspiracy happening. My name is Olivia and if that name is coming between us, I need to know why."

"It's none of your business."

"Darling, you need to make it my business if we want to work on a relationship."

Gail looked across the room and out the window. Brilliant sunshine reflected from the maple leaves that still hung heavily from the downpour. Water dripped slowly from the roof. The room was damp from the lack of air-conditioning. Gail felt suffocated and took a deep breath.

She wanted to believe Tannen. She wanted to trust Karen. David isn't a rational explanation. "Why did you and the other woman break up?" she asked.

Tannen raised her eyebrows but answered quickly. "She was drinking too much. At the end, she called me a fucking cunt once too often."

Gail winced. "Not good. How often did she use those terms?"

"Once. It was abundant enough for me." She rested her hand on Gail's leg. "Gail, are you trying to trap me in some way?"

"I suppose I am. I'm sorry. Will you tell me who she is?"

"No. She's an otherwise lovely woman and talented actor. I wouldn't want you to think wrongly of her. Initially, I have not placed her in a good light, but it's why we parted and I know she's working on her problem." Tannen hesitated. "Perhaps I'll tell you, in the future. On the other hand, Karen could tell you if asked. You can find it on the Internet, as well."

Gail nodded with understanding, but wondered if Tannen was expecting quid pro quo. The name Olivia loomed large, and Gail needed to understand the peculiar coincidence. She was willing to listen, she wanted to listen, and she waited to listen.

"How did Olivia Quinn become Tannen Albright?"

Tannen then joked, "Darling, de Havilland was taken."

Gail quickly stood. "I'm not in the mood for jokes," she snapped. "I have things to do."

Tannen grabbed Gail's arm and yanked her back. Gail landed on the sofa with a heavy bounce.

"When I was very young, I couldn't say my aunt Tanya's name correctly. I called her Tannen. Albrecht was her married name. Tanya Albrecht became Tannen Albright for me." She massaged Gail's arm. "David always called me Olivia. He thought the name was more feminine." She shrugged. "If Olivia means nothing to you," Tannen hesitated, "maybe I'm meant to tell you about Olivia Quinn."

"What should I know about the mysterious Olivia Quinn?" Halfhearted at this point, Gail wanted to get outside, away from Olivia or Tannen or whoever else lurked in the shadows.

Tannen looked past Gail as she spoke.

"David suffered tremendously with his illness. It began with cardiac arrest. They revived him, but the arrest damaged his kidneys. Cardiac specialists found a need for a pacemaker, but they had to wait for him to get stronger. One week after cardiac arrest, he arrested a second time. He struggled daily. He..." She became quiet. "He required surgery, and his chance of surviving the procedure was slim. When his heart arrested a third time, his kidneys failed. He was on dialysis. David wasn't strong enough to survive surgery. My husband was dying, and horribly. His heart had weakened to the point where it was only a matter of time before it arrested again."

Gail held Tannen's hand. She felt compassion and waited for Tannen to continue. "It must have been very difficult for you."

"I haven't told a soul about this, Gail. David understood his time was limited. He refused extending his life through machines. We talked seriously for many nights about it." Tannen's voice faltered. "He didn't want to die on a cold operating table. We had agreed that I..." She stopped and stared at Gail. After a quick, deep breath, she continued. "He was hooked up to the machines that he didn't want. He needed to find comfort, and I promised him dignity." She choked. "It was the most horrible thing I've ever promised."

Gail's heart pounded in fear of what she was about to hear.

"What did you do, Tannen?"

"The agreement was, if he had no quality..."

"Oh no." Gail closed her eyes. "I don't think I can hear this."

"...to his life, I was to inject him..." She choked.

Gail let go of Tannen's hand. She sat stiffly and held her breath. Her first instinct was to slap Tannen. Her second was to slap her again. Don't tell me you killed him.

"...with a lethal dose of morphine."

Gail took a deep breath. She remembered the line from David's poem. Her heart beat with each word: the final gift of all the gifts you gave me, taking what I could no longer give you. The poem now made sense. Tannen took the life that he could no longer share with her. She killed him!

Gail was speechless. Internally, she was outraged. Her hands closed into fists while she listened to Tannen's drama unfold.

"We talked for a long time that night. I told him repeatedly that I couldn't do it. Somehow, I...I mustered enough courage and strength to administer the drug while he was conscious. First was enough to let him sleep, and then a final dose. That was what he had wanted. David was so weak, he passed quickly and peacefully." Tannen wept openly, visibly shaken with her admission. She finished quickly. "He was finally at rest, and my body and soul were splintered with agony. There was no one there for me. When the attendants charged into the room, they tried reviving him and I prayed, desperately for it to happen but-"

"You murdered David and you wanted to be comforted?"

Tannen quickly looked up. Tears streaked her cheeks. "I euthanized him, Gail. He was dying and he asked for my help."

"No, Tannen. You didn't help your husband. What you did was commit murder. You put him to death! Perhaps some of that Tudor blood actually exists inside you." She backed away from Tannen.

"It was not murder. David did not want-"

Gail raised her voice. "It is murder, Tannen. It's legal and proper to euthanize a sick animal. You performed an illegal act by taking the life of a human being. David adored you and you killed him!" Gail wrapped the blanket around her quivering body and left the sofa. At the staircase, she suddenly stopped. Gail turned back. She toned down her anger a quarter step, but her body continued with an uncontrollable shake. "You are no longer welcome in my home. I want you out of my sight and out of my life before I finish dressing. I'll have your personal items sent to you tomorrow."

"Gail, please understand-" Tannen reached out with one hand, the other pressed against her chest. In harmony to the dripping from the roof, tears splattered against her legs.

Gail walked back to the sofa. Expecting to find a moment of compassion, Tannen stood to meet her. She wiped her tears as Gail approached.

"I understand this: David is dead because of you."

"No, darling, please listen. I'm begging you to listen to me."

"You're much too dramatic for your own good." Gail clenched her teeth and shot Tannen a hard look. "What you did is monstrous. Leave now, or I'll call the police and have you removed. I will also tell them why." Gail turned away and proceeded up the steps. The sounds of Tannen's sobs grew quieter as Gail reached her bedroom.

Gail couldn't control her anger. She grabbed the lamp on her nightstand and slammed it against the wall. The glass sliced into the Mark Kostabi oil painting that hung there. She yanked a small drawer out of her dresser and smashed it against the top of the dresser. She took another and threw it across the room, knocking a hanging plant from the ceiling. Dirt and philodendrons soared through the air and landed on her bed. The copper planter bounced onto the floor and rolled out the bedroom door. Gail grabbed books from the bookcase and hurled them two at a time. On a final fling, one smashed through the window.

She stood at the center of the bedroom. Her heart raced, and she breathed as though she had just completed the Boston Marathon. "Get a grip," she said. "Get a grip." But the thought of Tannen euthanizing David was too much for her mind to process. Olivia's death made Tannen's story even more unbearable.

How can someone knowingly take the life of another? She had control. I had no control! The car slammed into me and Olivia didn't survive. If I hadn't been driving-if I had left later, or earlier-but how could I know?

Through tearing eyes, Gail frantically dressed and dashed to her car. She drove around the remains of the fallen maple tree and sped off to Karen's house to confront Karen.

It had to have been through Karen that Tannen found out about Olivia. It was not their business for discussion. This is completely out of line.

She shifted through the BMW gears at a fevered pace. When Gail maneuvered a hard right turn into Karen's driveway, the speed was too fast for the distance, and Gail jammed the brakes. The BMW skidded until it smashed into the corner of Karen's garage. Gail came to an abrupt halt when the air bag deployed and threw her back against the seat.

"Shit!" She pushed the bag out of her way and pounded the steering wheel. "Damn it!"

She flung the door open, and Karen ran over to her. Tannen stood at the top of the steps. She looked waiflike and uncertain. Gail stepped out of the car with her left foot and nearly collapsed when pain emanated from her knee. Karen stopped the fall.

"Are you hurt, Gail?" she asked, holding Gail by her arms.

"Yes," she said sharply. Gail looked over and realized the extent of the damage to the garage, and to her car. "Shit." Adrenaline zipped through Gail and she looked back at Karen. She fumed. "Why did you tell her about Olivia?"

Karen backed up in defense. "I've told Tannen nothing."

"You must have told her! I trusted you, Karen. I goddamned trusted you!"

"I did not tell her, Gail." Karen grabbed Gail's arms. "Why don't you believe me? What has happened? Why is Tannen in near fragments?"

Gail looked at Tannen and struggled toward her. Once again, her left leg nearly made her collapse with pain. Tannen quickly disappeared into the house.

"Why are you still in Connecticut?" Gail yelled after her.

Gail struggled to free herself, but Karen tightened her grip "Have you been drinking?"

"Yes, but I'm not drunk. Tannen told me she killed her husband. David is dead because of her." Gail saw the air bag burns on her hands. She returned her gaze to Karen. "He's dead. Hasn't she told you about our little chat?"

"Tannen hasn't been here long enough for me to find out why she's upset. She came in, bawling her eyes out, Gail. What did you do?"

"She's a murderer." Gail was crying again. "I want to see her. I just want to talk to her."

"I'll talk to her. Let me take you home and I'll get your car towed."

Gail tried to make a break for the house, but neither her knee nor Karen permitted the action. Karen caught her before she fell to the ground.

"Go home and ice your knee. Tannen is my guest and you'll not cause her any harm." She pointed to the damaged garage. "You'll pay for that repair." She opened Gail's door. "Get in," she said. "Go home and pull yourself together. I'll call you later. You can talk to Tannen then."

"No. There won't be a 'later' for the three of us." Gail pushed Karen aside. She stepped toward the house, but a pull to her hair yanked her head back.

"Ow!" She turned quickly to Karen. "Damn you, Karen!"

"Leave my property, Gail. Otherwise you'll be calling your attorney for bail." Karen shoved her toward the mangled Beemer.

"Fuck both of you. Just..." She slammed her hands on top of the hood. "Fuck you, Karen. Fuck you." Gail limped around the door and dropped into the driver's seat. She slammed the door closed, backed out of the driveway, and sped off.

A damaged radiator allowed Gail to drive only two of the three miles home. She pulled the car off the road and stepped gingerly to the trunk. She found an umbrella, and using it as a makeshift cane, she managed the remaining mile on foot.

She iced her purple, swollen knee for half an hour. The ice provided some relief. Gail scrounged around the medicine cabinet and found some old Percocet. She took one for the pain and placed the bottle in her pocket. She called her mechanic to have her car towed.

"Where is the car, Gail?" Tommy asked.

"It's a mile east of my house." Gail winced when her knee shot a painful jab up her leg. "I need something for a day or two. Can you bring a car with you?"

"Sure. I have an Audi and a Volvo."

"I'll take the Volvo if it's automatic."

Thirty minutes later, Tommy's assistant pulled into the driveway. He handed Gail the Volvo keys and, ten minutes later, Gail threw a leather bag onto the passenger seat.

With no particular direction in mind other than to flee from Connecticut and Tannen Albright, Gail traveled west on I-84. The sky darkened, and the wind picked up speed. Light rain began to fall, and she turned on her headlights and wipers. She looked into the rearview mirror. Blackening skies chased her. Gail tuned the radio to the local weather band. The robotic, digital voice sounded local conditions:

"...with winds exceeding one hundred miles per hour. Residents, be advised to stay indoors and take all available precautions. Again, according to the National Hurricane Center, Hurricane Bette has reversed course and picked up speed over lower New England. Traveling at the speed of forty-five miles an hour, and upgraded to a Category Three storm, the system should reach Long Island Sound by ten p.m. tonight, with winds exceeding one hundred miles per hour. Residents-"

Gail snapped off the radio. The clock read 9:03.

"Lovely." She looked into the rearview mirror again while rubbing her throbbing knee. "Now what? Pedal to the metal, Prescott."

Gail turned onto the Saw Mill Parkway from I-684. Traffic was slow through the strengthening downpour. Rain turned torrential by the time she saw the exit for Hastings-on-Hudson. Slower, she continued toward Manhattan. The Volvo rocked from heavy winds, and Gail pondered what she would do if the car rolled.

"Shit. This storm scares even me." She tuned the radio to a jazz station and tried to relax. In the middle of Diane Schuur and B.B. King singing a live version of "I Can't Stop Loving You," the station suddenly dropped from transmission. Gail scanned the stations and received nothing more than dead air.

"It's just as well. Anything I enjoy listening to will probably have me pining for Tannen."

Get over her, Gail. What's to pine for? The woman killed her husband, and she has the nerve to brag about how wonderful he was for her career. That's one hell of a thank-you, Tannen. Good show! It's a wrap. Take a fucking bow. And the winner is...not David. Gail swerved to miss a garbage can. You're coldhearted. One would never guess that about you. It wasn't an accident. Not like Olivia. Not like...not like her. Gail's wet eyes blurred her vision even more. She wiped them with her hand. Have you ever forgiven me, Olivia?

Gail continued nervously and cautiously. When the Saw Mill turned into the Hudson Parkway, she paid the bridge toll and reached for her cell phone. I'm almost there. She called her editor's private number. No connection. She tried Jordann's personal number, and Talley's number, with no results. "Damn it." She looked for the connection bars on her cell display and they were blank. "Damn it to hell," she said, and threw the phone onto the seat beside her.

I still have Tannen's apartment keys. I can cross over at Charles. Then I can hook up with Greenwich Avenue until I reach Bethune.

It took Gail an hour to dodge debris and abandoned vehicles. Some cars were overturned, and some had collided with others. She pulled onto Perry Street. At Greenwich, enough rubble blocked the road that it was impenetrable by vehicle. She continued on Perry, avoided debris, and searched for the best route back to Bethune. Taken far enough out of her way, Gail found herself at Washington Square Park.

The Volvo suddenly bucked and slowed. More concerned with running from Tannen, Gail had never bothered to look at the fuel gauge. After another minute of chugging and bucking, the Volvo made a final thrust. The car came to a complete stop in front of New York University. Rain hammered the windows. Gail turned on her emergency flashers. A few daring motorists passed without offering assistance.

"I love New York," she sang angrily.

Gail turned on the overhead light. She rested against the steering wheel and massaged her knee. She looked at the stinging burns on her hands. She had failed to clean them properly, and they were hot and red. She opened the window and stuck her hands outside, hoping the rain would wash them a little cleaner. Buckets of water splashed heavily against her hands. Gail watched her flesh move in forced waves.

"Sure," she muttered, "A little sulphur and, come morning, my hands should be neatly eaten away by acid."

She pulled her hands back in and closed the window. She dried them on her shirt. Gail winced from the pain in her knee. She reached into her pocket for the vial of Percocet and swallowed a yellow tablet without water.

"Yum." As best as the weather would allow, she looked around at her surroundings. I can't stay here. One of these trees is sure to come crashing down, or another vehicle is going to slam into me.

Gail grabbed her cell phone and threw it into the leather bag. With her makeshift cane, Gail was determined to find her way to Bethune. She crossed to the nearest street and looked for a sign that would determine her position.

Everything appeared blurred from rain hitting her eyes. Winds whipped Gail from behind, assisting with a push toward her destination. A street sign wobbled and spun violently. It read Waverly Place.

Or is it Washington Place? She headed down the street. It doesn't matter, does it, Ms. Prescott? You're about to have your ass whipped, no matter what street it is. Gail searched for an open door. At the very least, a stoop to duck into could offer some shelter.

Battered by winds, she hobbled with her makeshift cane. This is the right thing to do, she convinced herself. City lights flickered around her. They snapped and popped with sparks as they hung on to their last wires before a final spark blew their transformer. Con Edison was surely working overtime to keep power up. When she heard a small explosion of glass above her head, Gail ducked into a doorway. Shards of glass crashed to the ground in front of her.

Gail reached for the door and was startled when the door opened and smacked her on the hand. She jumped back and a man stepped out.

"Hey!" he said, equally surprised. "Sorry if I scared you." He looked out the enclosed doorway. "NBC is still up and reporting. It looks like this is the worst of it and she's going back to sea."

"Not soon enough," Gail said. "Do you have a car?"

"I'm parked over there." He pointed to a yellow Mustang. A stop sign protruded through the rear window. Gail watched the sign twist several times, and then it stopped. "I'm Dan. I have to get to the East Village," he said. The wind suddenly yanked the sign out of the car, into the depths of the park.

"Would you take me over to Bethune?" she said, through roaring wind. "I'm Gail."

"I think we can give it a try, Gail."

The wind continued with frenzied speed, now blowing rain into their no longer dry niche. Gail and Dan turned away from the entrance of the stoop. They jammed themselves into the corner. As suddenly as the rain battered them, Gail felt a sudden pull from a wind directional change. The rain poured, near horizontal, toward Bethune.

"This is some kind of crap," he said. "It's an early hurricane season. We never get storms this violent up north."

We don't experience violent weather like this in England. Gail recalled Tannen's words.

"Global warming," Gail shouted.

"Let's get out of here." He grabbed her hand, and Gail fell at their first step.

"Damn it." She hugged her knee to lessen the pain.

Dan helped her to her feet. He supported her as they made a dash across the road and into his car. Dan looked back at the splintered glass that adorned his backseat.

"Damn," he said. "This used to be a nice 'stang."

"As long as the motor works." Gail wiped the rain from her face and then rubbed her knee. "I think it's broken," she said.

"Nah," Dan answered, wiping his face with his arms. "You wouldn't be able to walk. Good sprain, maybe some cartilage torn. All fixable." He started the motor and pulled onto the street. "What happened? Did you fall?"

"Car accident," she answered and watched rain seep through the windshield onto her leg. You're very tall...that makes you nearly climbable, to my eyes. Tannen continued to haunt her.

"I suppose it won't matter too much if we break a few traffic laws tonight," he said. Before Dan could pull away from the curb, a tree fell across the front of the car. A branch penetrated the hood and killed the motor. Gail looked over at Dan. He stared at the front of his Mustang.

"Dan? You okay, Dan?" she asked.

"Christ! That could have been us." He looked at Gail. "I'm sorry, Gail. I thought I could get us out of this hellhole. We can go back into the building."

He opened his door and swung his legs out. Frustrated with their attempt to flee the storm, and in desperation to get to Tannen's apartment, Gail opened her door and stepped out.

"Thanks anyway. Good luck, Dan. I'll try by foot."

With her bag looped around her neck and under her arm, Gail struggled to proceed on foot. A street sign distinctly read Waverly Place and assured her she was heading in the proper direction. She looked around to get her bearings. She had to head west to reach Tannen's apartment.

After what seemed like a mile but was no more than a block, Gail gave up. Washington Square Park was still to her left. The distance to Bethune was too far for an injured knee, with only a lousy umbrella for support.

This just hurts too much. Whipped with rain and wind, Gail looked around. I need shelter. Her body shook, her mind was dull from the Percocet, and her entire system was tiring quickly. Fear and possible infection were overwhelming her strength. She leaned on the umbrella and tried a few more steps. This isn't working. I can't walk any farther.

Painkillers clouded her mind and distorted her logic. Gail stopped when she came upon a thicket of bushes at the corner of the park. She hoisted herself over the rails, burrowed deeply inside a bush, and poked the umbrella through the top. Gail opened the canopy of the umbrella and hooked the shaft under her leg. Her body trembled, and she wrapped her arms tightly around her.

"Am I really this stupid?" she mumbled.

Gail shook uncontrollably from the chill inside her. There was no hope of getting dry and warm. She had to wait out the storm.

She laughed. She had herself trapped, as she would occasionally trap her characters. She wrote them into their respective pickles and wrote them back out of them.

I'll survive this night. I know all the ways of writing those successful escapes from impending tragedy. Sitting in the mud is my job.

She opened the leather bag, expecting to find something warmer to wear. She fished around in the dark, felt her cell phone, and then two glass bottles. Gail pulled out the heavier bottle. Remy Martin. Quickly, Gail opened the bottle and took a long swig, grateful for momentary hydration. Hydration. Right. Cleverly disguised dehydration is more like it. She grabbed the small bottle and withdrew it. Her eyes widened and she gasped. Gail clearly read MATO CUP on the label.

Oh, my God.

Gail couldn't remember placing either bottle into the bag, and these were the only items she found. She held the bottle against her breast and began to cry. She wanted desperately to be in Tannen's warm embrace. I'd give anything to be back at the house, comforting you. The alcohol quickly mixed with the Percocet, and Gail babbled against the bottle cap.

"David, you know why this happened. You know how I really feel about Tannen's role to end your suffering. I have so much guilt for what I've done to Olivia." Her tremors progressed. Gail cried loudly, defying the howling winds around her. "I can't handle the guilt any longer. I don't want to handle it any longer. You have to help me, David. Bring Tannen back to New York. I need her."

Gail held the ketchup bottle closely, as though to warm it. She then placed it back into the case. After eating two more Percocet, she washed them down with another swig of cognac. From the additional drug and the alcohol, her body shut down, as out of fuel as the Volvo. Gail leaned back against the bushes.

She murmured, "I don't want the guilt," and drifted into the darkness.

Дата добавления: 2015-08-27