As they left, Alex shook his head, as if he needed to become reaccustomed to the quiet. He picked up a spoon and studied his reflection, distorted long and upside down.
“We don’t have any children,” Cassie said.
Alex glanced up at her. “Did you think I was hiding them from you?”
Cassie laughed. “I was just wondering. I mean, we’ve been married for three years, and, I don’t know, you said I’m thirty—”
“Oh my God,” Alex said. “Not only do you have amnesia, you’ve also broken your biological clock.” He grinned at her. “We might have kids, maybe down the road, but three years isn’t that long to get to know each other. Plus, you head down to Africa for a month every summer, which wouldn’t be easy with a kid. We decided to wait while our careers settled around us.”
Cassie wanted to ask him why they could afford three residences, but not a nanny. She wanted to ask him what would happenif. She thought about Ophelia, earlier that morning, smirking:You meanhedecided.
She lifted her eyes, preparing an argument, but was stopped by the look on Alex’s face. His jaw was tight and his skin was unnaturally pale. “You’ve been taking your Pill, haven’t you? I mean, I never even thought to show you where they are.”
There was no way that Cassie could know he was thinking of his own father, and that damn model wagon, and of the fact that he had sworn off children because he did not want to turn into someone like Andrew Riveaux. Still, in that way she had of sensing his pain, she reached across the table for his hand. “Of course,” she said, although she had not seen any birth control pills since she’d arrived home. “We decided.”
Alex took a deep breath. “Thank God,” he said. He pushed back his chair and stretched his legs. “I’m going to go to the bathroom. I don’t think anyone will bother you when I’m gone.”
Cassie rolled her eyes. “I think I can take care of myself.”
Alex stood. “Sure. Last time I let you out of my sight, you wound up at theLAPD.” He walked through the rows of tables, turning heads.
Cassie watched the easy movement of his body and the confidence that clung to him as closely as a shadow.
She was so busy watching Alex that she did not see the man sit down at the table. He was good-looking, though nowhere near Alex’s caliber, and slightly shorter and lighter of frame. Cassie smiled shyly. “Can I help you?”
The man leaned forward and grasped her hand, whispering his lips along the edge of her wrist. “I’ve been waiting all night,” he said, and Cassie pulled away.
“I’m afraid I can’t remember your name.” Cassie sat as stiffly as possible in the chair, her eyes darting left for Alex’s approach. She wanted this man gone by the time Alex got back. She wanted to get rid of him herself.
“I’m devastated. Nicholas. Nick LaRue.” He spoke with a strange accent she could not place, something that was neither Continental nor eastern.
Cassie flashed him her brightest smile. “Nick, then. I’m afraid Alex and I are on our way out. I’ll be happy to tell him you said hello.”
He reached for her wrist, pressing her hand to the table so that pulling away again would attract attention. His other hand began to dance the length of her arm. “Who said I came to see Alex?” he said.
“Get your fucking hands off my wife.” Alex stood behind her, and Cassie closed her eyes, instinctively sinking toward his heat. Suddenly she sat erect. Nick LaRue. He had been in that movie with Alex, the new one,Taboo. Their characters were best friends, partners in a jewelry heist. But she could remember Alex coming home from the set, stalking the house like a panther, anger seething from his skin. “He thinks his trailer should be closer to the soundstage than mine.” “He’s holding out for top billing.” And what had she done? She’d poured Alex a drink every night, promised him that in ten weeks, or eight weeks, or six, he’d never have to work with Nick LaRue again, and then she’d given him herself to help him forget.
Alex had taken off his jacket and Cassie felt it draped over her lap, warmer than his own skin. Nick stood opposite him, and Cassie stared into his eyes only to see twin images of Alex, drawn in rage. The diners at the other tables started to file out of the room like sand in an hourglass, and sure enough, when the last one had disappeared the two men each took one step closer.
In the front of Le Doˆme, Louis called the police. He would certainly not be the one to interfere, and even if he had been a foot taller and thirty pounds more muscular, he wouldn’t have been able to choose a side. Both Alex Rivers and Nick LaRue were A-level clients.
Cassie shrank back against the wall. She did not think anyone had ever fought over her before, and she wasn’t sure if she should be flattered or sickened. She saw Alex’s fist swinging forward and she closed her eyes, knowing anywhere the unmistakable sound of bone striking bone.
WILL LIKED HAVING THE BEAT ON SUNSET. HE AND HIS PARTNER—a Hispanic named Ramo´n Pe´rez, and this irony did not escape him—drove for hours at a time down Sunset and back, anticipating a summons. From time to time there was a drug bust, a construction detail, an occasional robbery, but more often Will just stared out the window and waited for action. Yesterday he’d gone into Cassie’s church and lit a candle for her. He sat in a pew in the back, whispering a one-way conversation to her God that basically hoped she was doing all right.
“Hey, Crazy,” Ramo´n said. “Wake the fuck up.”
Ramo´n still insisted on calling him Crazy Horse, which Will did not find funny and which he’d warned him against several times, to no avail. “I wasn’t sleeping,” Will said.
“Yeah, well, then tell me where we were just dispatched.”
Will turned his face to stare out the window.
“Le Doˆ me,” Ramo´n said. “Le Goddamn Doˆ me. Two hot-shit movie stars having a fight.”
Will sat up and pulled his regulation hat low on his head while Ramo´n read him the off-the-book code on celebrity disturbances.Youdon’t rough them up. You call them Mr. So-and-so. You never bring them down to the station. You don’t borrow trouble.
Le Doˆme was a simple little place, but fifty people milled in front of its doors, some spilling into the valet parking lot. Ramo´n pushed past the crowd into the restaurant, nodding to a small, nervous man in a tuxedo. “I’m Officer Pe´rez,” he said. “What seems to be the problem?”
