Bridge to Haven (36 page)

Hand shaking, she turned on the tap. “I’ve never lied to you, Franklin.” She gulped water, then felt light-headed. She set the glass in the sink and turned to face him. “I’m never with anyone unless you’ve arranged it.” Her head swam. She leaned back against the counter, afraid she’d faint.

“You were with Dylan, weren’t you?”

“I never want to see Dylan again. You, of all people, should know that.”

How wonderful that Dylan had shown up at a Hollywood party they attended. Franklin had seen him first and warned her. When she’d turned, there he was, grinning at them, saying it was so nice to see them both looking so well. In a way, she’d been relieved. She realized that she despised Dylan more than she had ever loved him.

“Don’t ever lie to me, Lena.”

She’d signed Franklin’s contract. He should trust her. She knew why he didn’t. Over the past two months, he’d stopped looking at her like a client. What was it Mitzi used to say? The train was coming and she didn’t know if she could get off the tracks.

Lena.
Abra pressed damp palms against her throbbing temples. That’s how he saw her now. As Lena. She wasn’t Abra anymore. Abra had disappeared from the face of the earth as far as Franklin was concerned, and that’s the way he wanted it. The star maker thought he’d hammered away chunks of Abra. He’d gone to work with chisel and mallet. Why couldn’t she be Abra in the privacy of this apartment? Why did he insist she play the role of Lena everywhere?

She’d asked him once, and he’d laughed. Did Roy Scherer sound sexy? Did Archibald Leach? Rock Hudson and Cary Grant sounded better. Lena Scott was a name for a star. That was her name now. She’d better get used to it.

Something inside her balked. She wanted to be known for herself. Abra was flesh and blood. Lena Scott was a figment of Franklin’s imagination. Or had started out that way. She knew better than to argue with him. He’d made up his mind. Lena Scott, not Abra Matthews, was the woman he could make into a star.

But his vision of what she would be had grown in the last few weeks. She had felt the subtle change in him. Lena was becoming more real to him than Abra. And he wanted Lena.

He was watching her. “Tell me where you went.”

She could feel the heat radiating from him. Was it anger or something else? “I don’t even know, Franklin. I just wanted to take a walk and be alone for a little while.”

“You’re alone every night, in your bed.”

There was something about the way he said it that stretched her nerves taut. “Maybe I wanted to defy you, just once.” She’d wanted to break his strict dietary restrictions and buy a hamburger, fries, and a milk shake, but she didn’t have any money. So she walked. She went to a park and sat on a swing. She wandered away and then came home. “Sometimes this apartment feels like a prison.” She didn’t say he acted like a warden. “I’m grateful. Really I am. But sometimes . . .” She shook her head. “It’s so hard.”

Tears of exhaustion blurred Abra’s vision. She hadn’t had a day off in a year and a half. But then, neither had he. “Don’t you ever get tired, Franklin?”

“We’ll have time to rest someday.”

Someday.
“I do everything you ask. Everything. I’m so tired, I can’t sleep.” She’d been on edge for weeks, awakening at every sound in the apartment.

“So tired you supposedly walked miles when you should have been coming home.”

A fissure cracked open and she erupted. “Tired of being told what to do every second of every day! Tired of having every minute of my existence under your control!”

“Calm down.” He moved closer.

“I’ve done everything you want, and you still keep hammering at me!” Her voice rose and she realized how shrill she sounded. Lena wouldn’t talk like this. She fell silent. She was shaking again, little shivers of nerves.
Why am I never enough?

Franklin took her gently by the arms. “I know what’s wrong with you. It’s what’s wrong with both of us. We can’t go on like this, Lena. We’ll both go mad if we do.”

Abra looked at him and drew in her breath softly.

She had met Pamela Hudson at the last party a month ago. Franklin had been cordial to her and her husband, a sure sign he didn’t love her anymore. When someone drew Franklin’s attention, Pamela spoke to her in quiet haste. “You need to be careful with Franklin.” Abra asked what she meant. Pamela frowned. “Don’t you notice the way he looks at you? Everyone thought he was in love with me. The truth is he loved what he made me. Take some advice from someone who knows Franklin better than he knows himself. He’s on the edge. He has been for a long time.” Pamela touched her arm lightly. “Be careful he doesn’t pull you over with him.”

Less than five minutes later, Abra’s ex-lover showed up. Franklin hadn’t been bothered by Pamela’s appearance on the arm of her husband, but the sight of Dylan roused him. She’d seen it in his eyes, felt it in the firm hand he kept beneath her elbow. It was as though he was telling Dylan,
She’s mine. Stay away from her if you know what’s good for you.

Dylan enjoyed himself, pouring on the charm and flattery. He’d already seen the new movie. How? He had studio connections, didn’t you know? “Bravo,
Lena
.” His dark eyes mocked her new name. “You’re going to be one hot property now, baby. Good for you, Franklin. You’re still the wonderful wizard of Oz.”

Abra had kept silent. Her role in
Dawn of the Zombies
required no acting skills. At the audition, the director had merely asked her to put on a period costume and then a negligee. He wanted to hear her scream.

After Dylan’s appearance, Franklin was ready to leave the party.

The tension had been building in the apartment ever since that night. They both knew why. Franklin’s blue eyes lost their steely intensity. “I want you.” He said it simply, almost in apology. “I have for a long time.”

Today, in the bright Southern California sunshine, she’d known
what she’d face if she came back. Franklin had been preparing her for the role he wanted her to play in the movie running inside his own head.

Torn by gratitude and frustration, familiarity and fear, she shook her head. She owed him everything. Where would she be now if not for him? She would be on the streets, selling her body like a dozen girls she’d seen on the long walk home. She was thankful; she was. But why did he have to keep pushing so hard all the time?

She pressed fingers to her throbbing temples. “I have a headache, Franklin.” She moved away from him, wanting distance and time.

“And you don’t think I have a headache from worrying about you all afternoon? You don’t think I worry about who you’re with and what you’ve been doing?” He moved closer again. She felt trapped. “Look at me.” When she did, his eyes caressed her face. “You are Lena Scott. You can’t just go out for a walk. It isn’t safe.”

“No one knows me from Adam.” She saw the pulse throbbing in his throat and her own quickened, but not with desire.

“The premiere is tomorrow night. I give it one week and you’ll have crazy fans trying to find you. You’ll be getting love letters in the mail.” He kept hold of her arm with one hand and with the other stroked the hair back from her damp brow. The touch wasn’t platonic. “I want to protect you.” He brushed the back of his knuckles against her cheek. “I promised you a fresh new life, didn’t I? I’m keeping my promise. Have you seen how people already look at you? You walk into a room and every man notices. Even Dylan looked bewitched. And it gave you pleasure, didn’t it?”

It had. Revenge had been sweet—for about two seconds, until that mocking look came into his eyes. He’d never loved her. He never would. He was incapable of love. It had been in that moment she felt relief, realizing she didn’t love him either. He still made her heart beat faster, but not out of love. She felt instinctively that Dylan was dangerous, that he had enjoyed hurting her, and would
love to hurt her again. She’d never give him that chance, not ever again.

Franklin’s first signs of jealousy had shown the night she met Elvis Presley. Of course, she’d been in awe, but it took only ten minutes in his company to know he was just a nice guy who liked girls and was enjoying the attention. He wasn’t any happier than she about having others telling him what to do all the time. She’d liked his sultry Southern drawl, but she noticed how his gaze drifted quickly from one pretty girl to another. He was like a little boy in a candy shop. A photographer appeared and he put his arm around her waist. She saw Franklin scowling and thought he wanted her to smile. So she did. It wasn’t two seconds later that another aspiring starlet with a pushy manager moved her aside. Franklin had made some crack about her swooning, and she had to remind him he’d been the one to move her in close so she could have a personal conversation with Elvis.

And now Franklin was touching her. He cupped her face. “I’ve fallen in love with you.”

She grasped his wrists tightly. “You’re in love with Lena, Franklin.”

“You are Lena.” His hands shook slightly when he ran them softly over her hair. “Do you know I haven’t been with a woman since you moved in with me?”

Would he trust her more if she gave in? Would he relax his iron grip and loosen the chains? She played for time. “I’m afraid of you sometimes.”

“Why? I’d never hurt you.”

She lowered her head. “I know, but . . .”

He tipped her chin. “Everyone in this building thinks we’re already sleeping together.”

“Is that any reason why we should?”

“I’m a man, Lena, not a eunuch.”

Abra felt the rising flood in him, the need. A soft whisper inside her heart said,
Run.
A louder voice told her to measure the cost if
she walked out that door. Did she want to be destitute and walking Hollywood Boulevard like so many other girls who’d come to this humanity-devouring town to fulfill a dream? Franklin had offered her everything, if she’d play her part.

She felt impelled to be honest. “I’m not in love with you, Franklin.”

“Not yet.” He spoke with such confidence.

Maybe she would fall in love with him. She respected him. She liked him, most of the time. She groaned at the throbbing in her head. He said he’d give her something for her headache. He guided her down the hall and into her room. “Just rest. I’ll be right back.” He gave her a pill and a glass of water and sat on the edge of the bed. “We won’t go out tonight.” He ran his fingers across her forehead. “Don’t get sick. We’re going to the premiere tomorrow night.” He lingered for a moment and she was afraid he’d lean down and kiss her. “I’ll let you sleep.” He stood and quietly left the room.

CHAPTER 11

Though none go with me, still I will follow;

No turning back, no turning back.

S. SUNDAR SINGH

D
ESPITE
A
BRA
’
S
FEARS
,
a crowd waited to see the premiere at the Fox Village Theater. She and Franklin arrived in a black limousine and stepped out to flashbulbs and microphones. She posed in her forest-green satin gown while Franklin held her mink stole, then posed again with Tom Morgan, the leading man. Franklin moved in and told her it was time to go inside.

The movie wasn’t a work of art, but most guests seemed to enjoy it. One critic turned around and spoke to Franklin. “The movie is a piece of rubbish.”

“But . . . ?” Franklin grinned, undaunted.

The man laughed. “You’ve done it again, Franklin. She’s star material.” He winked at her and turned back to watch the rest of the movie.

Franklin was high on her success. They went to the producers’ party to celebrate. He toasted her with a glass of champagne. “Well done, Lena.”

Abra had been too nervous to eat anything all day, so Franklin went to the buffet and prepared a small plate of food. She ate and had another glass of champagne. A band was playing and she wanted to dance. She would have stayed hours longer, but he said it was late and they had appointments in the morning. They were both still in high spirits when they returned to the apartment house.

When Franklin unlocked and opened the door, Abra raised her arms and waltzed in, singing, “‘April in Paris . . .’”

Laughing, Franklin closed the door. “We’ll have to work on your singing.”

She turned to him, grasping his lapels so she wouldn’t tumble. “I was a success, wasn’t I?”

“Yes.” He leaned down and kissed her. She gave a soft gasp of surprise and swayed to one side. He caught hold of her. “Lena.” He drew her fully into his arms this time and slanted his mouth over hers. He stopped after a moment and caught hold of her hand, leading her down the hall. She stopped at her bedroom door, but felt pulled along.

“Franklin.”

“Shhh.” He kissed her again, pulling the mink stole away and tossing it on the floor. He let go of her long enough to shed his jacket. “Lena.” He must have seen something in her eyes because he stopped undressing to caress her face, her shoulders. “I won’t hurt you. I swear.”