It was Odetta Olson.
The man was holding her arm, forcefully pushing her toward the back of the yacht, where we were. I glanced at the girls as the pair walked past, and their faces confirmed what I already knew. It was Dorian Fisher. You could feel the fury emanating from him.
I slid backward on the shiny floorboards, to better hide from them. Constance and Marnie did the same. Now the three of us were huddled against the lifeboat, plunged into a pitch-black corner, just a few feet away from them.
If they heard us, if they had any sense that they might not be alone, they gave no indication.
So we watched.
We listened.
We held our breaths.
We did not move.
Until they gave us no other choice.
Constance
I scooted forward a little, ignoring Lou’s warning look. I couldn’t take it, Ineededto see him. Even though we couldn’t make out Dorian and OdettaOlson’s words, the heat in her voice made it sound personal. There was something deep and probably messy going on between them, and whatever came next would hurt like hell. Despite everything, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be over Dorian.
Their faces caught the moonlight. Odetta’s was a mask of seething anger, her shoulders tensed up high. His worry lines were on display, his trademark cool demeanor wiped off.
“You did this,” she said, trying to release her arm from his grasp by pulling on his hand with her free one.
But he held tight. She was no match for him.
“It wasyouall along!” she added.
“Get ahold of yourself.”
“All those rumors… You’re theworstthing that ever happened to me.”
“You’re being hysterical,” he said calmly. “Again.”
“Take your hands off me.”
Her tone was so glacial, so menacing that he complied. She rubbedthe skin where he’d grabbed her.
“We can’t do this here,” he said, running a hand through his hair.
“No, of course. There’s a time and a place to be ‘hysterical.’” She made air quotes with her fingers. “If I thought you were cheating, I was hysterical. If I worried you were trying to sabotage my career, I was hysterical. For such a smart man, you have a very limited vocabulary.”
At this point, the rumors that Odetta Olson and Dorian Fisher had once been a couple were decades old. No one ever mentioned that anymore. Nowadays, the press coverage centered on their business partnerships. Dorian’s production company had backed several of the movies she’d starred in and, now, her directorial debut. They were Hollywood veterans. Longtime colleagues. But now it was clear that they were more than that.
Dorian sighed. “You’re going to win the Palme tomorrow. What else do you want?”
“No,you’regoing to win the Palme, Mister Big Producer. All I’ll be left with is the worst reputation of any woman in Hollywood, and that’s saying a lot.”
She started pacing back and forth, while he went to lean over the railing, resting his elbows as he looked out into the pitch-black horizon.
The respite was brief.
“It was you!” She screamed now, shaking her head. “It was always you. All the rumors and their ‘unfortunate’ timing. I refused to see it for so long but you did this. You havealwaysdone this to me!”
I looked back at the girls, and both of them seemed as confused—and, frankly, scared—as I was. Neither had moved as much as a hair. I had a vague feeling of a cramp starting in my hip, but there was no way I would shift positions. I didn’t want to risk missing any of this.
“Ottie,” Dorian said, looking at her over his shoulder. “I have offeredeverythingto you on a diamond-encrusted platter for the last twenty-fiveyears. You owe me your entire career. Not to mention the rest of it. Where do you think you would be if you hadn’t been hanging on tomysuccess?”
