Electric Vamp

Rosa Romance presents

Electric Vamp A Ferguson Films Fantasy

mM Erica Leigh Madson

Rosa Romance an imprint of Sub Rosa Books, Inc. ~ since 1980

Electric Vamp

A Ferguson Films Fantasy

Copyright 2007 Erica Leigh Madson. All Rights Reserved. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including photocopying, recording, digital reproduction, file-sharing technology, media swapping, or by any information storage and retrieval systems now in use or yet to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review and/or use of the excerpts available for free download to the press at Rosa Romance.com only when used with the required tag lines attached for printed or web media reproduction.

ISBN: 978-1-880413-63-0 eBook editions created electronically in the United States of America Publisher’s Disclaimer: This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents wither are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by Rosa Romance Publishing Company, Inc. 5190 Neil Road Suite 430 Reno, NV 89502 First Edition. Please visit RosaRomance.com

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It Was the Best of Times March was a magical month for Sophie. The campus at the University of Southern California had greened up with the winter rains, filling her with the feeling of an early spring. The kind of spring when the world was puddle-wonderful from her childhood on Long Island. She was near the top of all her classes and she was madly in love with the man of her dreams. And the man of her dreams was in love with her. Sophie smiled as she hurried across the campus, passing through the courtyard in front of the Norris Theatre where she had first met Jerry so many months ago. Since that day she had become aware of her body in a way that no woman can until she has loved and been loved. And her body ached to have him with her now. Every moment apart was a moment that she felt incomplete. “You have great skin, Sophie.” Trevor, her history of English law professor, fell into step beside her. “And don’t tell me it’s just the sex.” m 5 M

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Sophie blushed. Had Trevor been reading her mind? After all, the soft richness of her skin had a lot to do with Jerry. Not the sex itself but the oils and the full-body massages that Jerry had introduced her to on Valentine’s Day. And with practice on Jerry, Sophie was becoming an accomplished masseuse herself. Trevor watched embarrassment embrace his favorite student. Sophie was very bright but also an innocent in the cynical world of Los Angeles. In the cynical world of a major university. He'd met Jerry a few weeks before and recognized young love (and lust) when he saw it. Trevor'd sworn off students many years before after an unfortunate incident which almost cost him his job. Anyway, he was not one to horn in on an established couple. And he though her well matched with Jerry who was a vast improvement over most of the males making their moves on the campus co-eds. Trevor just enjoyed Sophie for what she was. A woman with a truly gifted understanding of the intersection of economics and history. A beautiful woman and one with a genuinely lovely heart. But he couldn’t resist tweaking her figurative nose once in a while.

mM Meanwhile, Sophie had fallen back into her reverie. Jerry. She smiled. What luck had brought her to campus that day in August. Was it the heat of the day? Or another kind of heat? m 6 M

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One that was rising within her now as she thought back to the night before. To the waves of pleasure that had washed over her as she succumbed to Jerry’s magic fingers once again as they moved with skill and familiarity over her body, easing out the stresses of the day; first deep, relaxing the muscles, then light, teasing those sensitive areas around her nipples, the backs of her hipbones, the line under her jaw. First the tease, then the promise, then a rapidly escalating arousal which had her arching towards his hands, demanding more, demanding fulfillment, demanding release. And he responded in kind. And as she continued to walk to her class, Sophie felt the warmth within lift her heart and her spirits. Wasn’t life wonderful?

mM Later that night, back at Jerry’s apartment, Sophie was licking garlic-flavored oil off the fingers of her left hand after finishing the last of the Crazy Bread. She was sitting on the floor with the textbook she was reading propped on her knees, taking notes and turning the pages with her clean right hand with her back against the sofa where Jerry was stretched out reading a photography magazine. “Here, let me.” Jerry leaned down and sucked one of her fingers up into his mouth. Sending shivers down and up her spine. “Mmm. Garlic fingers. Almost as good as buffalo wings.” At which point he started gnawing on her knuckles. “Hannibal the Cannibal strikes again,” Sophie murmured as she turned another page. m 7 M

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“History tonight?” Jerry wondered aloud what was distracting his love from being finger-licking good. “Yup. Need to find a hook for a paper on how the Romans stabilized the western Mediterranean. It wasn’t just the cities and the armies, you know, it was the standardization of the economy, the introduction of a single currency . . . .” Slurp. “That sounds pretty dry.” “Just add baby oil.” “Yech!” Slurp. “I prefer garlic. Mmm. How about some of that chocolate sauce from Christmas? You know I have . . . .” “Jer-ree. You know I have to finish this. Do you want me to go home?” “You can’t. Randy and Shawna are having a vidgame fest there tonight. And that’s not al—” “I know, I know.” While Jerry idly flipped through his magazine, Sophie managed to get through a couple more pages. Jotted down some notes. And thought it through—yes, the Roman currency was the key. Lots of research available and I can tie together both the history and the economics of the later Roman period into a good paper. Maybe not spectacular, but it’ll earn the respect of those who matter. A strange sensation brought her back to the present. Jerry was now sucking on her hair. “Jerry!” she laughed. He smiled unrepentantly as those Groucho eyebrows went up and down. “Yup. I know, it needs a little . . . je ne sais quoi. Ahh . . . hold on a minute.” And he jumped to his feet and headed to the freezer.

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“Here.” He produced a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Turtle Soup and, to Sophie’s surprise, stuck it in the microwave. “Just to soften it.” Sophie had gone back to listing talking points for her paper as they bubbled up from her brain one after another, so she didn’t see Jerry give the ice cream another minute’s radiation, didn’t see him fetch her big-toothed comb from the bedroom, didn’t see him dip that comb into what was now ice cream soup, didn’t sense a thing until he was drawing that comb through her hair with all its sticky gooey mess. “Hey!” She protested. “Mmm. Now that’s real tasty.” Jerry whispered in her ear as he sucked Turtle Soup out of Sophie’s hair. “I wonder what would happen if . . . .” and Jerry seized her book and pushed it and her papers to the far side of the coffee table as he just as firmly pushed Sophie down to the floor pulling her sweatshirt over her head. Pinning her arms. And drizzled liquid ice cream down between her breasts to where it collected in her belly button. One tentative lick, then another. Then his tongue caught a caramel cluster and swirled it around her breast and across the nipple causing Sophie to arch involuntarily and gasp, riveted by the dual sensations of the sticky soup and Jerry’s tonguing. Books, notes, paper, all were forgotten as her concentration shifted to the man that she loved and what he was doing to her body. How could anyone resist such overwhelming feelings? Feeling Sophie’s body capitulate, Jerry shifted back to sucking fudge from his love’s long hair, letting his incipient beard drag along that sensitive area below the ears to keep her body titillated, m 9 M

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occasionally digressing back to teasing her tits with the pieces of nuts, stretching out the seduction as long as he could. Delaying any gratification until both were so hot and horny that they could not stop themselves from tearing off the other’s clothes, could not help their hands from roaming slick on the sweat over each other’s bodies, could not help their desire to please and to be pleasured, could not help their primal urge to mate, to become one and to attain the little death of complete and utter orgasm. Could not help becoming aroused again by each other’s proximity as they lay panting together with their consciousnesses separating and sliding back into the real world. Could not help gazing deeply into each other’s eyes, into each other’s souls then moving as one to the bedroom. Jerry’s cock came to full attention again with Sophie’s lips still inches from engulfing it. As her tongue circled his hard-on, her carefully covered teeth started to play scales up and down his member until Jerry twisted in a purgatory between outrageous enjoyment and ultimate torment. Until he could take it no longer and, with practiced ease, flipped Sophie over and dove into her, angling her body against his so each stroke rubbed up against the her g-spot, adjusting his pace till Sophie was quivering into a Neverland that had never appeared in Barrie’s book then, thrusting harder and faster, riding her pleasure into his own, cresting, ejaculating and collapsing consummated at last across her beautiful body as it still quivered in orgasmic fulfillment.

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mM At some point in the night Sophie slid out from under Jerry and spooned against his back, embracing her lover, heart and soul, cock and muscles, and mind. She was his and he was hers and there was nothing that could ever come between them.

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Reality Ends Here The next morning Sophie woke to the lack of a warm body beside her. And the murmur of a voice in the main room. Grabbing one of Jerry’s flannel shirts, she stuck her head around the bedroom door to see what was up. Jerry was rooting in the fridge and held up an offering of fresh-squeezed orange juice. Which Sophie gratefully accepted. The citrus kick cleared out her mouth. “What was that?” Jerry turned to her with a big smile. “How’d you like to come to set with me today—see what I really do for a living?” Sophie had been planning to concentrate on her history paper today while Jerry was working, on this her day with no scheduled classes. But the opportunity to spend time on the set of Jerry’s new film sounded awfully appealing. She had refused to go in the past because she knew she couldn’t rely on having him with her for even part of the day. Jerry could be up a condor, running the lighting board, or out on a mini-scout to a location scheduled for the next day. m 12 M

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And Sophie had never been on a film set before. Despite all Jerry’s stories, she did not really know what to expect. All she did know was that other than Jerry, she would know no-one. “Come on,” Jerry wheedled. “Nick’s going to be there and he can give you the grand tour and be your beck-and-call guy when I can’t be dancing attendance on your ladyship.” “Nick’ll be there?” Nick was one of Jerry’s uncles whom Sophie had met at Christmas and whose gracious ways had attracted her to him immediately. He was low-key and the type of guy with whom one genuinely looked forward to hanging out. “Yup.” Jerry smiled—gotcha! “But—won’t he be busy?” “Nah. Not today. He’s just there to get a better feel for the set and ingratiate himself with our leading lady. He said having you to squire around will be a plus.” Nick’s courtesy and courtly ways had been known to convince more than one reclusive star to promote their films, to succeed where threats and pleading had failed. “Well . . . O.K. Oh shit! When do we have to leave?” Jerry turned to the clock—“Not for another hour or so—we end with a night scene so my call isn’t till 10:30.” He turned back to her, puzzled, only to see Sophie pulling her long tresses out from her head, still stiff from the Turtle Soup of the night before. “Oh.” Sophie smiled at his discomfort. “It’s only ice cream—and it will wash out.”

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As she headed for the shower she continued, “But I am not going anywhere for any reason without washing it all out. Not even to see Nick.” “I’ll come join you,” Jerry offered, following her in. “Not if you want to get to work on time, you won’t.” Jerry laughed. But he used his solicitous shampooing of Sophie’s hair to get up close and personal. So up close and personal that sparks flew and the foreseeable distraction occurred. And they got to set with only minutes to spare.

mM The film company had taken over a parking lot across the street from a movie theatre in an area of Los Angeles which was unfamiliar to Sophie. Jerry had been directed to park his truck over on one side with the other personal vehicles. As they walked across the lot, Jerry pointed out private trailers for the stars and a honeywagon which was a large trailer broken up into little rooms for lesser actors, and a production office and bathrooms for the crew. Their initial destination was a catering trailer which was doing a roaring business as the last of the crew arrived. Where Nick was waiting. Jerry grabbed a breakfast burrito and handed Sophie over to Nick for her introduction to the world of spending twelve hours to shoot less than three minutes of film time . . . if they were lucky! Nick gave her a grin. “Ah. Finally I get you to myself.” m 14 M

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Sophie laughed uncertainly. As an only child of a single parent, she was unused to the casual repartee that seemed to characterize relationships in Jerry’s extended family. But she knew they all cared for Jerry, and that Jerry’s Gram, Nick’s mother, had a fondness for her grandson’s girl. So she smiled coyly at Nick. “Well, since Jerry’s abandoned me, I guess you will have to play my knight in shining armor in the big bad world of the film biz.” Nick appreciated Sophie’s wit even as he sensed the shyness underneath. “First thing you learn is that the making of a film is like the waging of a battle. And everyone knows that an army runs on its stomach. So, on a film set, you will always find lots of food.” “Coffee and donuts for the cops. Lattes and Krispy Kremes for the stars.” “Jerry’s taught you well. And did he mention breakfast burritos for the crew?” Nick led Sophie to the back of the line that Jerry had jumped to grab his breakfast. “First thing you should know is that guests on set like you and me have absolutely no seniority. The stars and the directors are the raison-d’être of a film or television series so they have assistants to gofer for them.” Sophie looked blank. “You know. Gofer. Go fer this, go fer that.” Understanding rolled across her face. “So I rate below a gofer. Right?” Nick laughed. “Yup.” “Gofers are kids who’ll work twelve, fourteen hours a day doing any and all menial jobs just so they can tell their friends they’re in show business.”

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Sophie nodded. “Stars, directors, gofers. I’m getting it. Now just where does Jerry rate in all this?” “Well, you have to know that Jerry’s just starting out. And this is still a business where most people come in on the bottom and either fail miserably and disappear back to where they came from, or work their way up while learning and making the connections which will get them jobs in the future.” “Mm-hmm. An apprenticeship system. Worked well in the Middle Ages, and would probably help American companies today if they had managers with a little more floor experience and a lot fewer MBAs.” Nick nodded. He had to remember never to take Sophie at face—or body—value. This woman had a brain. He didn't want to underestimate her just because she was also beautiful. “So at Jerry’s level, which is most of the crew, they are paid by the hour. And since they are unionized, the hourly rate is a tad higher than minimum wage. And there can be anywhere from sixty to over two hundred people working on your average movie. And if you multiply those together to get the cost of that hour, you will see that minutes on a film set cost you serious money. Which is why the crew always go through lines first. Even the producers will stand aside for an hourly Joe.” “Well, after all, it’s their money.” Nick thought for a moment, then smiled. “Not really. Producers on set are generally those who get things done, not the ones who put the money up. But they are answerable to those who finance the films.” “The studios? Isn’t it mainly the studios that bankroll movies?” m 16 M

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Nick rocked his hand—comme-ci comme-ça. “Not these days. The studios have mostly been bought out by the big corporations who look more to the bottom line than to a critically acclaimed picture.” Nick liked talking with Sophie. He liked the way she listened and took it all in. He could see her filing what he said away for future consideration. “The studios have finance people who put together consortiums, bring in groups of investors, do deals with the money markets. And more and more, if the studios don’t like the package, they pass and the produces or director or star or whoever is championing the movie have to go outside themselves, look for private investment or loans and cobble together enough money to get their project made.”

mM By now they had their own breakfast burritos— Sophie figured she’d start with the regular before experimenting, and Nick had gone for egg-whites and chorizo—hold the cholesterol and the nitrates. They then sat down in folding chairs at one of the tables where a few crew still lingered. Sophie overheard enough to learn that these people were going to go out and pick up or buy set dressing for the location where the film was scheduled to shoot on Monday. “Set dressing?” she asked Nick. “The furniture and paintings and pots and pans and knick-knacks that set the environment—you know, if it’s a kitchen, one in a mansion will require top-of-the-line appliances and fancy dishes while a student apartment needs to be filled with cast-offs and stuff from Goodwill.” m 17 M

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Sophie nodded. That made sense. She dug into the fabulous fruit she had loaded onto her plate beside her burrito from an overflowing tray. Fresh melon and pineapple—yum! Then she paused. “What up?” said Nick seeing a question in her eyes. “If I eat all this now, I won’t have room for lunch.” Nick looked at his watch. It was eleven now—an hour or so away from the standard working-day lunch. But this was the film business. “Lunch won’t be till 16:30—four-thirty in layman’s terms—it’s almost always six hours after crew call. So you have a ways to go. But do save a bit of room ’cause I still have to introduce you to craft service.”

mM Just then an attractive man in a suit came up to the table. “Mr. Ferguson? Ms. Delion has about fifteen minutes before she goes into make-up. If you’d like to talk with her now . . . ?” Nick stood, wiping his mouth and followed, calling back to Sophie, “Wait here. Finish your food. Think me up some more questions.” So Sophie got to look around again at what was happening. The catering people seemed to be closing up shop, putting food away and grabbing coffee for themselves. Across the street, several men and a woman were setting a heavy camera on a tripod while others replaced the posters in the theatre windows with m 18 M

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ones that had clearly been made for the show Jerry was working on as they advertised films and stars she had never heard of. Police controlled traffic as a couple of guys who looked like car detailers polished a limousine that was parked in one lane. Jerry was with a group of men who were setting up lights and squares and oblongs of fabric in frames on stands which seemed designed to even out the shadows the lights made on the sidewalk. So many people. And they all seemed busy with important tasks. Tasks at which she could only guess. A flurry of activity and a couple of the younger women crossed the street to escort some of the actors back. A man who Sophie guessed was the director gesticulated wildly as he demonstrated the limo pulling up, the driver opening the door and two people getting out and walking up to the theatre. On the red carpet which had just been laid down. Now Sophie saw that the theatre marquee had been changed to say “Premiere Tonight.” Sophie noticed that she wasn’t the only one watching. As soon as the director had finished with them, the actors were replaced by three people dressed in casual clothes who continued to go through the same movements as the actors had while the camera and lights were adjusted. Nick came back, nodding, pleased. “Who are those people?” Sophie said, pointing. “The camera crew?” Nick asked, sighting along Sophie’s arm. “No. The others. The ones who are doing what the actors did.” “Oh, they’re stand-ins. Exactly as you said. They stand in for the actors while the crew adjusts the m 19 M

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lights and grip stuff and camera and rehearse all the technical stuff while the actors finish with hair and make-up and wardrobe.” Sophie nodded. Understanding the economy of doing things like this. Nick continued, “Some shows, they even have the stand-ins dress like the actors, wear wigs. Usually, though, they just go for people who have similar height and coloring.” “Does every actor have a stand-in?” That could get awfully expensive. Nick shook his head, no. “Generally the two or three leads and then a couple of utility ones who do for everyone else.” “Utility? Jerry talked about a utility stuntman the other day.” “Same idea, different department. General use, I guess. A utility stand-in stands in for more than one actor. A utility stunt man does a variety of stunts. He’s not doubling an actor in an established role and he’s not playing a role himself.” Nick could hear Sophie’s mind busy storing this all away—click, click, click. “You want to go over and take a closer look.” Sophie nodded, yes. “But first, where did you go just now?” “Wondered when you’d get to that.” Nick smiled. “One of my jobs as a publicist is to get as much coverage in the press for whomever I am working with. And to target the types of press—TV shows and magazines—that will reach the particular film’s audience. Do you follow?” “Yeah. I think so . . . the horror audience would be guys and teenagers dating; for romantic comedies it's women and older couples, right?” m 20 M

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“Exactly. On this film, the producers hired me because LaChandra Delion tends to avoid publicity and she is their only real name star. The kind that the bigger magazines and television shows want to get, who can sell copies and airtime for them.” “And,” he continued, “she has her own publicist whose primary goal is to build LaChandra’s career as a rapper because that’s where she's making real money. To him, this is just a sideline.” Sophie was nodding. “And you’re here to . . . to seduce her into doing at least some publicity for the movie.” “You got it. Boy, Jerry sure did himself proud when he found you.” Sophie blushed with pleasure at the compliment as Nick pulled back her chair to allow her to stand up. Then he led her across the street. Not too close to be uncomfortably personal but close enough that she felt safe and secure.

mM The rest of the day Sophie spent watching how much time and how many people were involved in making just this one little scene where LaChandra, playing a big star, arrives at the theatre only to be told that her son has been killed in Iraq. First they shot other people arriving for the premiere and the general hubbub of people lining up and entering the theatre. Then LaChandra came out and they shot the whole of her scene through from beginning to end with the camera out in the street so it could cover everything. Then they broke it all down into little pieces and shot what Nick had called coverage—close-ups on individual actors, different angles. m 21 M

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And each time they would shoot the same thing two or three times. One time a light popped and they had to replace the bulb but Sophie could not see anything wrong with any of the other shots. “There are so many variables—a plane flying overhead, an actor misses his mark, someone coughs at the wrong moment, the camera runs out of film.” Nick shrugged it off. “Film is cheap if you compare it to having to come back and pay to set this all up again.” At lunch, Nick went off to ply LaChandra with his charms and Jerry introduced Sophie to his friends. He was inordinately proud of her and his friends all seemed to think she was hot. Brains didn’t seem to fit into the equation here. “Don’t I need to pay for this food?” Jerry laughed. “Naw, they always allow for a few visitors. And it’s not as if you’re coming with me every day. Yet.” And he wiggled his eyebrows at her. Made her laugh. “Better watch out Jerry. Next thing you know she’ll be starring in one of these and you’ll still be hauling cable.” All the guys and the one girl who was dressed as casually as the men down to the streaks of dirt on her face and the heavy gloves hanging out of her pocket, laughed. “I’m going to finish my education first,” Sophie spoke out. Jerry’s friends seemed slightly surprised but respectful all the same. “And I’m heading off to SC this fall to keep my eye on her,” said Jerry, slipping his arm around Sophie’s waist.

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Lonely Hearts A couple of weeks later, Sophie was rushing to finish up on a term paper due Monday so she could devote her weekend to fun and frolic with Jerry. The weather looked good and he had promised to take her hiking up the Pacific Coast Trail to some natural hot springs. But when Jerry walked in he looked worried. He answered her questions mono-syllabically and he seemed distracted. Never one to beat around the bush, Sophie finally confronted him. “What is wrong with you, Jerry? You're moping around as if your Gram cut you off. And I kinda doubt that ’cause you’re her favorite grandson. What’s going on?” Jerry laughed. Only Sophie could cut through one of his serious moods like that. “I’m her only grandson, you twit.” He looked serious again. Felt as if he needed to run away and think this one out. What should he say? How would Sophie react? The object of this cogitation came and stood over him as he sat on the sofa. Hands on her hips, her m 23 M

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mouth set in a way that brooked no avoidance she said, “So?” Jerry wound his hair around his forefinger and pulled it, a sure sign of agitation. He knew she wouldn’t let go until he got the trouble out of him. “I, uh . . . .” He looked towards the kitchen, at the window, behind her to the door, anywhere but at her face, her eyes. Those lovely dark eyes. He could feel his tension melt. He could feel his body fall towards hers, into those soft brown eyes, in and down towards Sophie’s soul. How can I leave her? Sophie was now tapping her toe, a caricature of her own mother. Actually of Jerry’s own Gran. Must be a woman thing. Whoever thought women were the weaker sex . . . ? “Jerry. What’s up?” Finally he looked her straight in the eyes and blurted out, “I, uh, we got a job. Um. Out of town. It’s, it’s for five weeks. I’m sorry.” Total silence. Jerry held Sophie’s eyes. At least she didn’t look mad. Nor did she look like she would break into tears. He started to breathe again. Maybe things would be alright. Sophie nodded. Her face revealing nothing. What was she thinking? “Ok. It’ll only be for five weeks. And there’s spring break. Maybe I can come up and vis—” “I’m sorry, Sophie,” Jerry broke in. “It’s like the whole department is going. To Flagstaff. I didn’t want to let them down. But, but I didn’t realize how hard, how hard it would be to leave you.” Sophie smiled. Jerry looked so, so hang dog. So puppyish. So desperate to please. And there really was no need for him to be so worried. m 24 M

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“Oh, Jerry. I mean, in some business, in your business, people are always working out of town. Look at your Uncle Ian. He’s been in Morocco for almost a year, hasn’t he? I might not like it but I better get used to it . . . .” “And you can come up and visit.” “Really?” She smiled. “Really.” He smiled back. “Oh, Sophie, I’m going to miss you so much.” Jerry drew Sophie into his arms, the intensity of his feeling for her shifting instantly from love to lust. Insatiable lust. That could only be satisfied one way.

mM Their sweaty bodies twined together on top of the bed, Sophie’s head resting on Jerry’s chest, the thubba-thubba of his heart in her ears, and she could only think how lucky she was to have found this man. A man who was caring and generous and whose lovemaking took her body to new heights each time they made love. Lust, she corrected herself. There is love here, but this passion, this craving of young bodies for each other, the strength of our connection, this is really something special. “What’cha thinking?” Jerry ran his fingers through her luxurious hair, gently working through the tangles from their lovemaking. Sophie smiled. Yet again. She had done an awful lot of smiling since she met this man. “How much our bodies crave each other. How long can it go on this way? I mean, not that I want it to end. It’s wonderful but . . . .” m 25 M

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Jerry looked wise beyond his years as he replied, “I think it can go on forever if the two people love each other and respect each other and care . . . .” He planted a kiss on Sophie’s lips, her full luscious lips. And as they breathed in each other’s breath, his cock started to rise again. It was demanding, insatiable. He was insatiable. He could never get enough of this woman. And he never wanted this feeling to end. Ever.

mM It was Saturday, the day before Jerry was to leave for Flagstaff. He and TJ were driving together in Jerry’s truck out to Tempe where they were going to pick up some equipment then head north, up to Flagstaff. TJ’s girlfriend, Emily, was teaching so she could not go either. And now Sophie was looking forward to time alone to concentrate on her schoolwork. To get ahead on her term papers so she could go visit Jerry in a couple of weeks without the distraction of completing them hanging over her head. Jerry had come by Sophie’s apartment looking worried again, as if he had something on his mind again that he didn’t know how to broach with her. One of these days, he’ll get over keeping his feelings to himself, feel comfortable about sharing them with me, Sophie thought. She knew that Peter, Jerry’s dad, was a fabulous director, painting passion with broad strokes throughout his films, but that he had withdrawn from his own children after their mother died. Jerry and Bethany had had no role model at home during their teens to see how adults communicated emotions. m 26 M

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“What’s up this time, Jerry?” she asked gently. She was shocked to see his eyes fill with tears. “It’s just that I love you so much.” Sophie felt her own heart clench with her love for Jerry. Reaching out, she pulled him in to her arms and held him there. Rocked him as he cried. Let him take his time to tell her what was causing all this pain. “I don’t want to go. I’m scared to leave you.” “What?” Sophie was glad Jerry was not looking at her face which broke out into huge grin of incredulity. Why would Jerry be scared? “What happens if you meet someone else while I’m gone?” Sophie laughed out loud with relief. “Jerry Ferguson! When am I going to have the time to meet anyone new? Between my classes and my papers, I’m going to be so busy I won’t even have time to breathe before I come up to visit you.” Sophie could feel Jerry relaxing, the controlled sobs of a few minutes before softening as his respiration returned to normal. “C’mon. If anyone should be scared, it should be me.” “I,” Jerry corrected her. “It should be I. Yuck, that sounds too stilted.” Better to argue over grammar than feelings. “Anyway, you’re the one going on location. What about all those Hollywood romances you keep telling me about? Huh? Huh?” Now Jerry perked up. “No way I’d meet anyone to hold a candle to you. I’m so lucky. So lucky to have found you. I guess I’m just getting my loneliness out in advance. And TJ’ll keep me straight. And I’m doing the same for him with Emily.” m 27 M

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He was sounding wistful now. So sad. Sophie’s heart almost broke. “Once we’re working, we’ll be busy enough,” Jerry continued, his voice forlorn but accepting reality. “Six day weeks and there’s no money for rigging so it’ll be long, long hours.” “Lonely, are you? Well, I know the cure for that.” And Sophie’s caresses which a minute before had been those of a mother comforting a child now transformed into the erotic ministrations of a skilled courtesan, eliciting groans of eternal devotion from Jerry as his body went from emotionally drained to lusty arousal in a matter of moments. Uncontrollable desire swept over him and through him and he leapt to his feet, tackling the laughing Sophie and driving her to the living room floor. He didn’t care if one of Sophie’s roommates walked in, he was going to take what was his here and now. Sophie was less concerned about Shawna and Cory—she knew they would be in late. And more concerned about getting as much as she could of Jerry before he left for Flagstaff. His aggressiveness was a real turn-on today. A good way to shake out their mutual sadness over his impending departure. She responded in kind, tearing his t-shirt over his head, popping the front of his jeans so she could reach down, reach down and release Jerry’s rigid cock. Lean over and suck that vibrating organ deep down her throat. The incredible sensations stabbed through Jerry as he desperately slid Sophie’s shirt up to liberate her luscious breasts. With a thumb he teased one nipple till it hardened to a nubbin of delight while his tongue flicked the other till it too tautened under his ministrations and Sophie moaned her pleasure. m 28 M

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He could see her juices seeping through her jeans. Sophie was wet, wet, wet and it was all for him. Standing suddenly, Jerry dumped Sophie unceremoniously on the sofa and pulled off her pants. He hoped her panties weren’t new because he could wait no longer and tore them off to get to Sophie’s pussy. Covering her mound with his mouth, inhaling the scent embracing the textures, thrusting his tongue deep in her cunt then teasing her clit till Sophie screamed in pleasure, and her first release rippled through her. And continuing on and on and on. Sophie writhing under Jerry’s attentions, driven to the edges of consciousness by this ecstasy of feeling. Arcing her pelvis towards his, tearing at his hair, his shoulders, trying to pull him in where he belonged. Inside her. Forever. Jerry let Sophie suffer a little longer. Impelled her to the edge and over, reveling in her orgasms and then pulling back, saving his own, delaying his own gratification to give his love his all. Then, finally, plunging deep inside her, his cock well lubricated from its own trickling fluids, Sophie almost spasming with desire, hot and wet and sucking him in deep—clenching around him until he could not stop, could not stop . . . and as Sophie shuddered through yet another orgasm, he joined her, howling his release and collapsing on top of her.

mM They never ate that night, desiring no other nourishment than each other. During the night each would awake and reach out to cuddle closer then m 29 M

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fall back asleep, happy in the knowledge they were together. In the morning Sophie padded down to Jerry’s truck, already loaded. It took fifteen minutes for Jerry to actually pull away from the curb, on the way to pick up TJ. On the way to Tempe and then on to Flagstaff. Sophie would be driving up in just under two weeks but for each of them it seemed like an age stretched in front of them, an age of anguish and despair, alone without the presence of the other to complete themselves.

mM On the road, TJ remarked on Jerry’s silence, then laughed off his friend’s pained explanation. “Once we get to Flagstaff, once we start the job, you’ll get over her,” he assured his friend. Jerry sadly shook his head. “This is different, TJ. Somehow this one is really different.”

mM Back in Los Angeles, Sophie buried herself in her term papers but thoughts of Jerry kept interrupting her train of thought. She comforted herself with visions of what she would do to him when she went to visit. And plunged back into her work. Time passed and the papers were written. Sophie found that her classmates were totally rambunctious on the days leading up to the start of m 30 M

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spring break. Some students were going home, others to ski up at Tahoe, still others were planning to brave the craziness in Palm Springs, the traditional destination for spring break in the southwestern states. Jerry called her most nights—the production’s cell phone plan had free minutes after nine and Jerry and Sophie made good advantage of them to console each other. His job was, well, a job. Like most films, this one didn’t have enough money budgeted for what the director had in mind so there were always compromises. They were shortstaffed because the production did not want to pay to put up more crew from Los Angeles. And the locals, while willing, did not have the expertise to accomplish the necessary efficiently. So the hours were long and everyone was tired and cranky. Sophie kept telling Jerry not to spend so much time on the phone with her but he kept assuring her that his talking with her was what was keeping him sane. And both were counting down the days until Sophie would drive out for the week of spring break. Some days Jerry would send her funny e-mails detailing everything that was going wrong on set. From the craft service person who could not wake up in the mornings to make the crew coffee to the cut-rate vehicles that the producers had got a “deal” on. What a deal! Sophie graduated from phone sex to e-mail sex. Fun and titillating for both. But a piss-poor second in place of the real thing.

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Sophie was heading home from USC to get her bags on Friday afternoon. Jerry had urged her to drive out Saturday morning when she was rested but she just couldn’t wait, and by missing her last class she should be in Jerry’s arms about nine that night, the time he usually got off work. Suddenly—thump, thump, thud . . . the sounds of crashing cars careening out of control came from behind her. And then her own car bucked and Sophie was thrown forward. Before she could react, there was the pop, pop, pop of gunfire. What real gunfire sounded like, not the enhanced bangs that were added in post for films and television. Sirens wailed. Alarms from the damaged vehicles sounded off and drivers who were obstructed by the action leaned on their horns creating a strident tintinnabulation of chaos. Sophie turned around just in time to see two men holding guns down by their legs scramble from a black Expedition and, reaching through a crumpled Chrysler’s window, grab a briefcase and run across the street into a junior market. It was all over so quickly that the squeals of tortured metal were still echoing when two police cars drew up and cut their sirens. The flashing blue and red lights threw a surreal aura over the smashed vehicles. Sophie struggled to undo her seatbelt and was fighting to open her door which had jammed when the first policeman, actually a woman, reached her side. “Are you all right in there, ma’am?” asked the policewoman. Sophie pointed in panic to the junior market. Mute, she just continued to point. m 32 M

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“Ma’am?” The policewoman reached into the car. “Ma’am, are you hurt?” Sophie shook her head and swallowed. Her throat was dry, so dry she could barely get the words out. “They went in there, over there. That liquor store.” She swallowed again as the policewoman registered “witness” and waved more cops over. “Again, ma’am?” as she knelt by Sophie’s car, looked her in the eyes. This time Sophie was able to find her voice. “The men, the men who did this. They were in the black SUV.” She swallowed. “They had guns. They, they took a briefcase from the other car. And ran in over there.” Sophie pointed again towards the junior market. They, they’re both dark, not too tall, clean shaven. Mexica…” She looked around at the people staring at her, some with dark faces not too dissimilar from the men she had seen with the guns and gulped. “Hispanic, I think, and both wore windbreakers, black windbreakers over black jeans and white t-shirts. And they ran in over there.” The woman stayed with Sophie while some emergency rescue people pried her door open. My car. It had been very second hand but Sophie had taken good care of it and it held some great memories. Memories of Jerry. “Oh, my god.” “What is it?” The policewoman was concerned. “I’m supposed to be leaving for Flagstaff. To see Jer—to see my boyfriend. It’s spring break. I . . . .” By then, the policewoman had her arm around Sophie’s shoulder. “Come, sit down. I think you need to get yourself checked out first. And take care of that cut.”

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Sophie hadn’t noticed the trickle of blood running down from the bridge of her nose. She touched the spot. Tender. Looked at the offending steering wheel as the policewoman continued in a calming professional tone. “I’m sure your friend will understand. I’m Amy by the way. What’s your name?” She led Sophie over to where an ambulance had pulled up and was checking people out. Shock, Sophie thought about the others. And then realized the same applied to herself. More police had arrived and as they closed in on the junior market. Amy pulled Sophie away, out of the line of fire. There was a quick series of shots as the cops rushed the store, a couple more pops, the sound of breaking glass. Sophie had started to shake uncontrollably when the two men she had seen were led out, awkward with their arms pinned behind them, and pushed unceremoniously into the back of two separate police vehicles which pulled quickly away. The medics cleaned and taped her nose then had her sit with her head down and an icepack to keep the swelling down. Tow trucks arrived to clear the road. When asked where her car was, a cop she hadn’t seen before handed her a receipt to a police lot in downtown LA. Too late, Sophie realized that her cell phone had been on the seat beside her at the moment of impact.

mM Jerry was getting worried. They had wrapped hours ago and still no word from Sophie. He had left m 34 M

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messages on her cell several times but she had not called back. He had gone back to the motel but she wasn’t waiting in his room to surprise him. He had seen TJ head off for a weekend with Emily with Silvio, one of their secondary actors who had a photo-shoot in Santa Barbara too early on Saturday to catch a plane. They would both drive back on the Sunday and Silvio was more than happy to have someone share the driving. TJ had reassured him that Sophie was probably driving slowly, enjoying the scenery and being careful after dark. Probably passing through the mountains where cellular service was spotty. While waiting, Jerry slipped into the bar across the street so at least he would be with friends, not waiting and worrying on his own. He almost left immediately, having spotted Tiffany, the make-up assistant who seemed to alternate between hitting on him and insulting his family. But then the gaffer and best boy waved him over to join the other electricians down a pitcher of beer.

mM The policewoman, Amy, had reappeared and given Sophie a lift to the bus that ran up Virgil. And it wasn’t until Sophie stepped into her apartment that she realized that she didn’t have Jerry’s production cell number at home. She called his regular cell phone and left a message but knew he might not get it for a while. Like many productions, the movie he was on had a deal with a company which provided local phones to most of the crew along with their service. m 35 M

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And that number was on her own cell phone. Safe in her car at some downtown lot. She knew it would be a while, a long while before Jerry would think of trying the apartment as he would think she was on the road. In the mountains. On her way to him and a long weekend of lust.

mM The guys were kidding Jerry about what he would be up to once Sophie arrived. They were all looking forward to meeting her, some for the first time. Others had met her when she visited Jerry on set in Los Angeles. Jerry had arranged to take Monday and Tuesday off to spend with Sophie so they would have four days to themselves, then three days for her to check out the area on her own while he worked before part of the second weekend. As the level of beer dropped, the suggestions got more sexually explicit but Jerry took it with good grace. That they were his friends didn’t stop them from giving him a hard time. But at least it kept his mind of the fact that she was late, very late.

mM Being without a car in Los Angeles is a real drag. Especially for a woman going into the downtown area at night. The first taxi Sophie flagged down refused point blank to go to the address on the receipt. The next wanted her to show him her money first. Then blew her off anyways.

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She then took the bus back down Virgil and found out from the driver where to connect to get to the lot. When she got there it really was a pretty scary area. Boarded up buildings and destitute drunks. There were lights on inside the office for the impound lot but they were barred and above street level. And the lot itself was surrounded by chain link fencing with rolls of barbed wire on top. She pounded on the door to no avail. She could hear loud mariachi music somewhere above her but even throwing a handful of pebbles at the window had no result.

mM One beer turned into two and the next thing Jerry remembered was an aching thirst and the horrible headache of a colossal hangover. The light through the partially drawn drapes indicated he was back in his own room and it was late morning. Jerry shook his head to clear it. Big mistake. The headache was hideous. The kind of headache where it feels that little men are inside your head battering sledgehammers into the bones arching above your eyes. He lay back. Something seemed different that morning. Something was buzzing. But more than that, something was dreadfully wrong. Where was Sophie? He sat straight up again . . . and barely dragged himself into the bathroom before upchucking the previous night’s beer into the toilet. Jerry lay for a while on the cold tile floors. Until the throbbing in his skull was reduced from m 37 M

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torturous to merely miserable. What had happened? What was going on? He dragged himself into the shower and let the water pound him, body and soul, until he felt he could face the day, maybe. Returning to the bedroom, he had the same sense of something being different—the motel smell, the way the chairs were pulled out. Something. But then his attention was drawn to a buzzing in his bedside table. The buzzing that had originally broken through his stupor. In the drawer was his cell phone. The cell phone that he had not had with him last night. Of course, Sophie would have called. Fourteen messages. All from her home number. The last less than an hour before. So she was still in Los Angeles. Jerry sank down on the unmade bed, messed up and musky with his drunken slumber. Shit.

mM Sophie was almost in tears. Still no Jerry. She had finally reached TJ who gave her Jerry’s production cell number and that of the motel. No response on either. And the rep for her insurance company that she managed to reach on a Saturday morning had said that they could not authorize a rental till Monday because the car was in the police lock-up and not at a repair shop. Calling to find a rental on her own, the best Sophie could come up with was a luxury SUV at over a thousand dollars for the week—with it being spring break, all the cheaper vehicles were on the m 38 M

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road already. When she realized they wanted to charge mileage on top of that, she just hung up. It was all too much. Then the phone rang. “Where are you?” It was Jerry and he sounded put out. That really was the last straw. “What do you mean where am I? Where the hell are YOU!!! I’ve been calling and calling and . . . .” And then the whole story of the accident came pouring out. Jerry—instantly contrite—was sympathetic. By the time they had talked their hearts out, both were on an even keel again. Jerry had called TJ on his other cell and arranged that he and Emily would bring Sophie back to their place for brunch on Sunday and Silvio would pick both of them up at noon for the trip back to Flagstaff.

mM But life was never that easy. Saturday night, the police called Sophie to be ready to give a statement first thing Monday morning on what had happened. Eight o’clock at Parker Center. And the police had no interest in her plans to visit Flagstaff or how she was to get downtown. That meant missing her ride and even if she got a car, it would be Monday night at the earliest before she could reach Jerry. Which would give them one day together before he had to go back to work. Sadly they decided that this wasn’t the time, but Jerry promised to bring her camping to Sedona and Flagstaff later in the summer. Perhaps head out further east and visit the Grand Canyon on the same trip. m 39 M

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With that to look forward to, they went back to their e-mail and phone call relationship. Jerry never mentioned that he was glad she had not made it out on Sunday night as he was still suffering from the after effects of the binge he had obviously been on that Friday night. In fact, he slept most of Sunday and part of Monday. Sophie used what time was left after dealing with the police and the insurance company to polish her papers and start to research material for the thesis she was planning to write a couple of years down the road.

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Reunited-Does It Feel So Good? Sophie got her car back the same day that Jerry returned from location. It was a beautiful day in May and she had just parked in the tandem spot under the building as Shawna was now living pretty much full time with Randy. She carried a load of groceries up to the apartment. As she entered, her ears perked up and she ran to the window. There, burning rubber as he tried not to overshoot a parking spot, was Jerry in his truck, a truck that definitely needed a bath. As did Jerry himself, a fact Sophie quickly discovered as she ran down the stairs and threw herself in his arms. It was just ten in the morning and the crew had wrapped and loaded the electric truck the night before. Jerry and TJ had headed out directly, anxious to be home. Anxious to be in their women’s arms. Sophie hastily hauled Jerry up the steps and inside and was stripping off his dirty work clothes. “No. No, Sophie, I’m filthy.” She just grinned and kept peeling down his jeans. And watched his cock pop right up. It looked m 41 M

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a little cleaner than the rest of him but soap and water never hurt. “So get into the shower. I’ll join you.” Shell-shocked by Sophie’s ardor and totally overwhelmed by his own desire, Jerry stepped out of his jeans and headed into the bathroom. First a long, long whiz—he hadn’t stopped after a four in the morning coffee stop other than to toss TJ and his belongings out at Emily’s apartment in the valley —and then the shower, the water hot and pounding. Sophie reappeared with a scented candle. When Jerry had arrived, exhausted, he thought he wanted only to see the woman that he loved. His last thought would have been of sex. But now, offered, his body was certainly not opposed to a little action. The shower washed the outside dirt away but he still felt the ground-in grime of the past thirty-odd hours, a full day’s work plus the long drive home. Innately sensing his need to be clean, really clean, Sophie started by pouring bath oil in her hands and working it deeply into Jerry’s neck, his shoulders, down the muscles of each arm, across his pecs. Reveling in the sensation of Sophie’s hands on his body, the luxuriousness of her stripping away the layers of toil and grime and time, Jerry gave into the pure experience of being. When Sophie stopped for more bath oil, she tossed him his shampoo. “Here, handsome, lend a hand.” “Don’t mind if I do.” And Jerry’s hand shot out to cup one of Sophie’s luscious breasts. Sophie’s mouth opened as a jolt of sexual electricity coursed through her body directly from m 42 M

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her nipple to her clit, making her feel wonderfully, desperately alive. And wet. Inside as well as out. Reaching for Jerry’s butt, Sophie pressed herself up against him, breasts to pecs, clit to the base of his rigid cock. Rotating her hips as she massaged Jerry’s ass both their bodies alive and aching for that something wonderful that they had been too long without. The sensation set Sophie teetering on the edge of orgasm. Moaning, she sank to her knees, taking his member in her mouth as her hands stroked down his muscular thighs, over his curving calves. Gasping in reply, Jerry grabbed Sophie by the elbows and lifted her to her feet. Plunging his tongue between her lips, he pinned her to the wall of the shower as his hands, slippery from the shampoo coursed over her naked body evoking shivers of passion wherever they went. “In me. Now!” Sophie begged from beneath Jerry’s lips. Without a pause, he lifted her up and slammed deep inside her, quivering with passion too long repressed. Sophie panted out her pleasure as Jerry’s pulsing member thrust again and again within her secret passage and carried her away. One final plunge and his own release overtook him. Sliding down the walls of the shower, their breathing heavy and their bodies slick with more than just the warm water, they collapsed in each other’s arms, two halves now a whole.

mM The rest of the week, both were walking on air. Jerry just thrilled to be back in the arms of his lover and Sophie at last feeling wanted and taken care of m 43 M

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after her tumultuous time dealing with the police and the car crash mess. Sophie had done well at USC; extremely well. She had won several scholarships and Trevor wanted her to work as his teaching assistant for the freshman class he taught in the fall. TAs were paid with credits on other classes which would be a huge financial savings. Both Georgia and George, her mother’s former employer and how her lover, were thrilled. George offered to fly Sophie and Jerry to Long Island for the Fourth of July and Sophie was looking forward to introducing Jerry to parts of her past. Jerry, meanwhile, was taking a week to finish the paperwork for him to start at USC in the School of Cinematic Arts as the new Cinema-Television program now termed itself. And to rest. And wash the truck. The next weekend was solely for themselves. No friends or family, no work, no papers. Just love and lust and being together. A walk along the beach at sunset was followed by dinner at Gladstone's where once again their focus was on each other, playing footsie being of far more interest than the food. Just how far they could tease the other under the table without letting on to the rest of the restaurant the extent of their erotic enterprise?

mM Jerry's father invited both of them and Jerry's sister Bethany to his Malibu home for the Sunday of Memorial Day weekend. Bethany had recently had her heart broken when her first true love—the boy m 44 M

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next door in Toluca Lake where she and Jerry had grown up, a boy who she had known since nursery school—had told her he had met someone new at university. Peter had pressured Jerry to bring along some suitable young man for his sister but Bethany convinced her brother that she needed some time to heal first. So it was a quiet day with just the four of them. Sophie enjoyed it because it gave her time to get to know better both Bethany and Jerry’s father who she found quite intimidating. She remembered her high school classmates discussing many of the films Peter had directed. An electrician like Jerry was one of many, but a director was, well, the director. And, having been on a film set now, she was even more impressed with what Jerry’s father did. So Sophie listened in fascination to what Peter had to say and was awed by his casual references to some of the best-known actors around. But while Jerry’s dad didn’t seem particularly approachable in the way his Gram was, he certainly was kind and caring with his children. Maybe a little formal, Sophie thought, but Jerry and Bethany obviously respected and adored their father. Jerry had been a little distracted since receiving a call on his cell early that morning. A call that had clearly caught him by surprise and that he had walked away from where Sophie was watching the morning news on CNN to continue. Thinking he might want to talk to his dad, Sophie offered to clean up lunch with Bethany. There was always something therapeutic about putting food away and cleaning up after a good meal. While Jerry and Peter headed out to the deck m 45 M

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overlooking the beach, Bethany and Sophie set to work in the kitchen. Bethany was thrilled to have the opportunity to spend time alone with her younger brother’s hot girlfriend. “You guys have everything that I’ve ever wanted. You’re bright and beautiful. He’s built. Love and lust.” Sophie cocked her head, puzzled. Bethany continued. “Oh, I see the wonder in his eyes every time Jerry talks about you, every time he thinks of you. And I know the passion is there, too. I can see it sparking between you every time you touch. In your eyes, each time you look at each other. It’s like . . . it’s like . . . .” She shook her head searching for the right analogy. “It’s like . . . like grand opera.” Sophie laughed, delighted. “Just so long as it doesn’t go along with betrayal. Isn’t that what opera’s are all about? Love betrayed?” “Oh, no, no.” Bethany insisted. “It’s—,” Bethany spread her arms wide. “Bigger than real life. Better than real life.” Sophie smiled. Bethany was really sweet. “From your lips to God’s ears.” A bond was forged in that moment. No longer feeling obliged to impress Jerry’s father, Sophie relaxed enough to giggle at the stories Bethany told about Jerry growing up. “Our little terror.” And smiled at more of them. The time he had given his new train set to the cleaning lady for her son when Jerry learned he didn’t have one. Of course, the train set came back the next week but Jerry and Peter had gone out to buy the kid his own, slightly less expensive set. m 46 M

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And all the animals he had rescued, from a baby bird pushed out of its nest before it could fly to an opossum with a mangled foot to an abandoned baby skunk. “Mom sure loved that one. Although they really can’t spray when they’re that young.” Jerry had been just as generous and kind as a kid. No wonder she loved him now. So did his entire family.

mM As Jerry drove them home that night, Sophie basked in a glorious glow. Of her love for Jerry. Of his love for her. Of her newly-formed friendship with Bethany. And the wonder that she was accepted and embraced by Jerry’s famous family. But later that night, as Jerry tossed and turned, when, for the first time ever he pushed away her horny hands, Sophie felt a constriction in her stomach, a knot of foreboding. Something was wrong. But Jerry would not or could not talk about it. Yet.

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June Gloom In the morning, Sophie slipped out while Jerry was still sleeping to pick up bagels and fresh orange juice. Later they were going to drive out to Perris, seventy miles southeast of Los Angeles to watch some of her friends from USC learn to parachute and for her to take a ride in a small plane that one of them owned. Well, his dad owned it but it was his to use. When she returned, Jerry was gone. She made coffee and ate, scrolling through the New York Times Magazine on her computer. About eleven, when she was starting to worry, Jerry phoned. “Hi there.” He sounded tired and distracted. “Hey, something came up and I have to bail. But you go ahead. Go out and see your friends. I . . . I’ll see you when you get home.” Caught off guard, Sophie replied. “Why? What’s up?” “Nothing.” But Sophie could tell that there was something. Big time. m 48 M

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“Your family?” she asked with a worried tone in her voice. “No. Yup. Not really. I just have to talk to Andy about something right away and it’s going to take some time.” Sophie had to be satisfied with that. She found her way out to Perris on her own and did enjoy the time with her friends. But it just wasn’t the same without Jerry. Still, she was really glad she had come when she went up in the airplane which looked like something out of the Wilbur and Orville era—open to the sky, almost a toy with an engine in back. It took off with a lot of zoom and once they were up in the air it was marvelous. Free of the earth, free of the gravity weighing her down. Free of her problems if only for an hour. On the way back home, Jerry called and in a subdued voice asked her to meet him at a Thai restaurant in Hollywood where they often ate. Thunk! That constriction from the night before was back, wadding her stomach up into a tight ball of tension. What was up?

mM Jerry was sitting at the back of the restaurant. With his back to her. As she walked towards him, she could see him pulling at his hair, a symptom of stress. And he couldn’t seem to get comfortable, constantly moving this way and that. He pointed at the other chair but looked away from her. “What’s up, Jer? Speak to me.” But he just shook his head. m 49 M

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“How can I help if I don’t know what the problem is,” Sophie asked softly. “Oh, Sophie . . . .” The pain and tragedy in his voice tugged at her heartstrings. What could be hurting him so? Jerry kept shaking his head. “Oh, Sophie. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry . . . .” The waiter started over but Sophie shook him off. Then taking a deep breath, she addressed her fears, and Jerry head on. “Jerry! Look at me and tell me what’s going on. You’re scaring me.” Jerry looked up at the woman he loved, looking straight at him, calm courage, her heart out in front leading her wherever it would. And broke down completely. The waiter who was bringing another couple over to sit near them did an about face and settled the other guests back by the door. Then kindly brought over a glass of water for Jerry. With the glass to play with, wrap his fingers around, Jerry finally got his emotions under some semblance of control. Took some deep breaths, closed his eyes and then faced Sophie. Sophie looked back at Jerry and into his deercaught-in-the-headlights eyes and saw pain. Pain for him and pain for her. She pulled herself together, bracing for what was to come. “I, this, oh . . . shit!” He took another breath and with his hands over his eyes, his elbows on the table, dove into it. “Remember when, when you got hit? When you called me I didn’t feel that good, the next morning?” Sophie nodded and then, realizing he couldn’t see her added: “Yes. You’d waited up for me. And you were worried. Scared. Mad, I guess, that . . . .” m 50 M

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“Oh no, Soph, not mad. I could never be mad at you. Maybe mad at myself for not checking my other phone . . . .” Jerry’s voice had softened, his care for Sophie shining through whatever it was he had to say. And that made Sophie reach out to him. In her heart. And to take his hands, peel them away from his eyes. The waiter brought over the veggie egg rolls they so often shared in this restaurant and she dipped one in the spicy syrup that came with it and placed it to Jerry’s lips. He took a bite. But her stomach was still in lockdown mode. She couldn’t face even a nibble. “Go on.” Jerry sighed. “I was waiting in the bar across the street. It was Friday. There was a pitcher of beer. More than one I guess. I . . . I . . . I just don’t remember what happened. One moment I was in the bar, staring into the dregs of my drink, scared shitless about you. And the next I was in my bed with a hangover to surpass all hangovers. And then. And then you called and the world was, you know, like ok again. Jerry looked up, looked her straight in the eyes, trying to convince her of how ok his world was just because she was in it. Sophie was full of questions but recognized the wisdom of just letting Jerry continue. Continue until he was completely done. “That’s all I remember. Until yesterday morning. That call?” He looked up to verify that Sophie connected with the cell phone call he had taken such a short time ago.

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Sophie, nodded, worried. There was more, then. “Go on.” “It was this woman.” Her heart squeezed and just about came to a complete stop. “Sophie?!” She swallowed back her panic, took a deep breath and nodded again. “Go on.” This time she squeaked. Jerry paused, looked down, and that deer-in-theheadlight look was back. He swallowed, once, twice. Took a deep, deep breath. “She was an odd cookie. Tiffany.” He looked away. “Half the time she was chasing me, the rest of the time she was slamming me because of my family. Pretty weird lady. And definitely not my type. You know. Puppy fat and she's got to have a couple of years on me. And she was always complaining, saw only how the world acted against her instead of, of appreciating what was wonderful around us.” Jerry smiled at Sophie, a genuine smile this time. From his heart indicating that at least they appreciated the wonder of the world we live in. He swallowed again before continuing: “She said I passed out in the bar. That they were closing so she took me back to my room. And, and then . . . . That I asked her in and, and, you know . . . . Oh, Sophie—” For now Sophie was crying, not sobs but big fat glistening tears which were seeping out from her eyes and rolling down her cheeks to catch on her lips and drip, drip onto her white tee. He reached out his hand, but this time it was Sophie who pulled away. “No. Go on.” m 52 M

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“Oh, Sophie. She says she’s pregnant. And that she doesn’t want an abortion. She wants me to marry her.” And then Jerry began to shudder with repressed sobs again. This time a preternatural peace had stolen over Sophie and the logical side of her brain was back in command. This restaurant was no place for confessions. She got up, left the waiter a ten, and then led Jerry out to her car. No way was she going to let him get in his truck in this state.

mM On the way back to her apartment, Jerry sat slumped in the front seat, his eyes focused on his knees, but his mind maybe a million miles beyond. Sophie tried to get Jerry into bed but he refused to enter her bedroom. Instead he sank down on the sofa and held his head in his hands. Sitting beside Jerry, Sophie voiced her faint hope: “Maybe she’s lying?” Jerry shook his head, no. “I didn’t get it at the time but looking back . . . when I woke there was something odd about the room. It smelled. . . different. I thought is was just me, the hangover, but it must have been her. And when I woke, I remember reaching out for you, as if you’d been there.” His voice trailed off. “As if someone had been there . . . .” “I just don’t know what to do,” Jerry shook his head. Sophie thought for a moment, then pushing her logical persona to the fore she responded: “What do m 53 M

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you want? It can’t be all about her.” And in a lower voice: “Or about me . . . .” Jerry took Sophie’s hand in his, looked at it, massaged those fingers he so loved. “If I . . . could undo that night, I would give anything, anything . . . .” And in a stronger voice, he added: “I want you. More than anything else in my life, I want you. And, Sophie, whatever happens, you’ve gotta to remember that.” Sophie snuggled closer to him, put her arm around him and held him close. “And I love you. More than anything. And, and I want what’s best. . . for you.” “I think I need some time to think. Alone. It’s not you but just being around you, you are all I can think about. And I need to be . . . . Cleaner. . . clearer.” Jerry looked so sad it almost broke Sophie’s heart.

mM They'd fallen asleep from emotional exhaustion entwined on the sofa. When Sophie woke up Jerry was gone. There were unshed tears in her eyes as Sophie showered. But she couldn’t dwell on Jerry this morning. She had an interview for her summer internship, well, not an internship because she was being paid in credits, but it was a job working as a researcher for a civil war historian looking at the economic origins of the War Between the States. Right up her alley. Except in her case, she hoped to find her life’s m 54 M

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calling in the interrelation of modern-day history and economics. Life went on. Whether Sophie wanted it to or not.

mM That weekend, Sophie still had not heard from Jerry and she was wondering if she should call one of his uncles—Andy or maybe Campbell. But before she could decide, she received a call from her absolute favorite person in Jerry’s extended family, his Gram and matriarch of the Ferguson family. Asking her out for Sunday brunch. At the posh restaurant, Mary Ferguson grasped Sophie’s hand, held out for shaking, and pulled her into a close embrace. “Oh, my dear, I am so, so sorry.” And that’s when Sophie finally lost it. Mary led her to a bench to the side of the waiting area and let her cry herself out. Then brought over a cool damp facecloth she had managed to obtain from somewhere for Sophie to wash away the worst of her tears. “At least you are young enough not to have to spend another hour fixing your face because I, for one, am hungry right now.” Which coaxed a slight smile from Sophie. Soon she let Mary lead her to a secluded table and order for both of them. While they waited for the pumpkin soup, Mary chatted on about the local politics, about casual acquaintances who were some of the biggest names on screen and about the latest Hollywood rumors. When the soup was served and Mary had encouraged Sophie to at least suck on some of the fresh rolls dipped into the tasty chowder until the m 55 M

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growlings of her stomach urged her to continue, only then did Mary talk about her grandson. “Don’t ever think he doesn’t love you but he has a hard, hard choice to make. Do you understand?” Sophie nodded. “People look at us and they envy us for being Fergusons. They don’t understand that all of us found our own way to the top. And it seems as if this girl is trying to take advantage of Jerry. Not only of his good nature and sense of responsibility, but also of his name, and of his family.” Again Sophie nodded her agreement. “Jerry takes those responsibilities seriously. And I respect him the more for it. The easy way would be to pay the girl to have an abortion. But that—” “Or for it never to have happened,” Sophie added in a low voice. Mary looked at her with compassion. “But it did. And we all have to face it. I’ve never taken you for someone who shirked her responsibilities.” Sophie agreed mutely. But still wished that Jerry had never gone to Flagstaff, had never even heard of that job. Mary continued: “But that is not going to happen. The girl seems to want the baby and more. She wants marriage to our Jerry.” Sophie’s eyes teared up and Mary took her hand. “There are actually several issues here. What Jerry wants—which is you. What he feels obligated to do—which is to take care of the baby. And to spare those he loves as much as possible from the results of . . . what happened—that is to protect the family, and you, as best he can.” “You can’t unmake a baby.”

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Future Tense Jerry felt that much as he wanted to resume his old life, he could no longer continue to live with Sophie. To do so wouldn’t be fair to her. Just not the Jerry way. Nor could he bring himself to move in with Tiffany. She was just so . . . so not him. To tell the truth, Tiffany disgusted him. More so than when they had worked together on location. Back then, she was just annoying with her flagrant flirting mixed with her barbed insults. Now, everything she did, from dropping crackers on the carpet and leaving them there to the way her voice whined like nails scraping down a blackboard grated on him. Her life seemed to revolve around the television, from hauling herself out of bed in the morning in time to tune into some cable talk show through an afternoon of soap operas to the endless reality shows that filled her evenings. That Tiffany would avoid any attempt at physical activity was visible in her appearance as she gained weight using the pregnancy as an excuse though she could only be eight weeks along. She also had no interest in travel, in current affairs other than to m 57 M

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spout the network-sanitized opinions of whoever was the talk show host of the week, or in anyone other than herself. In short in anything he found interesting. The total opposite of Sophie. Now, now when it was way too late, he truly appreciated what he had once had.

mM Hacking, Sophie fought her way up from a sleep that, while not peopled with nightmares, was certainly filled with inchoate images that threatened . . . that threatened. Seeking for surcease through the remnants of her dreams, reaching out to Jerry, who would comfort her, who would tell her that it was all a bad dream, reaching out to someone who was no longer there. Who would never be there for her again. And her heart ached all the more. And then the phone began ringing again. This time she answered it. And plastered on her all’s-right-in-the-world persona for her mother. Georgia was calling to confirm that Sophie and Jerry would be flying out for Mr. Ogilvie’s Fourth of July celebration on his Long Island estate. Hearing Jerry’s name just tied another knot in that painful rope that reached from her gut to her throat. “George is really looking forward to having you two join us . . . .” her mother went on, insinuating not too subtly that she would love to make July 4th the time to announce two engagements, not just the one for her and George. m 58 M

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George, I’ve got to remember to call him George now that he’s proposed to mother. But this gave her an inroad. “Look, I’ll be there for sure, but something’s come up for Jerry and he’s not sure he can get away—” “Just put him on the phone and I’ll—” “Mom, MOM! Let me deal with this. Ok? Promise?” Sophie hung up after listening to a recitation of the party plans that seemed endless. But at least she had taken the first step in—Sophie searched for the appropriate turn of phrase—in, in solidifying the separation between her and Jerry. The phone rang again. This time it was Jerry. Her heartstrings twanged, her gut ached. “Look Soph. I . . . . Jeez, how are you?” She took a deep breath. This was harder to do with him checking in on her but she still could not bring herself to tell him not to call, never to call again. “Hanging in.” That’s all she could say. She couldn’t tell him about the dreams, the waking alone, the pain in her heart, the knot in her gut, the ten pounds she had lost in the last two weeks. That wouldn’t be fair. It would in no way change what was. “Look. I need to, I want to talk. To you. Umm. Can I buy you dinner? Sometime? Maybe tonight?” It would be too easy to say no. And Sophie was never one to take the easy path. “Mmm. Don’t feel like eating.” “Then how about coffee? We could meet at the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf on Hillhurst.” Sophie could hear the eagerness in Jerry’s voice. Something must be up. But would it soothe her feelings or hurt them more? m 59 M

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She sighed. “Ok, Jerry. What time?” She locked the pain into a back corner of her heart. “I’ll pick you up . . . .” And continued into her silence. “Or maybe we could just meet there . . . . Uh, like in about an hour?” Sophie managed to grunt agreement then hung up quickly so Jerry wouldn’t hear her sobs. Man, I’ve gotta pull myself together if I’m to see Jerry in an hour. The phone rang a third time. This time it was Chris, her friend from Long Island. “Bad time?” Sophie relaxed. “Not at all. You are just about the only person I actually want to talk to at the moment.” Chris swiftly assimilated what wasn’t said and he continued, “And Jerry?” He knew her so well and was so good at asking open-ended questions that allowed her to confide in him. The whole story poured out with sympathetic sounds from Chris helping her to focus on the telling and less on the feelings. On the feelings that would overwhelm her as they had done so often in recent days. “Wow. I feel so sorry for you guys. For both of you. I mean Jerry—” “I know. Oh, Chris, I keep thinking if I didn’t encourage him to go, if I hadn’t left my cell phone in my car, if I—” “Stop. STOP! If, if, if. Look, Sophie, you are not responsible. He certainly has a lot to answer for but not to the extent of his life being destroyed for a one-night stand. This Tiffany person sounds like a real witch.” m 60 M

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Sophie quieted down. “It’s like there is no answer. And it’s so unfair.” “Life can be. Mmm. Sophie, you are still coming out for the Fourth?” “Of course, my mother would kill me if I wasn’t there.” She snorted. “She’s going to kill me anyway as she was counting on announcing our . . . engagement . . . with . . . .” “Sophie, Sophie, Sophie. Just calm down. Focus on the future. Your future. Not what your mother wants. Not what might have been.” “How—” “Just let Jerry go. Think of what you are going to do when you get out here. Your mother and Mr. O.” “Mr. O? That’s a good one.” This time it was a real laugh. “I’ll have to remember that. I just can’t seem to think of him as George. And he’s not a Dad kinda guy.” “Uh, yeah.” For years—while Georgia worked as Mr. Ogilvie’s housekeeper and Mr. Ogilvie had sided with his neighbors, Chris’ parents, against the sexual orientation of their son—Sophie and Chris had been fast friends, standing together against all the adults’ parochial opinions. “Mr. O,” Sophie laughed again. “And then there is that delightfully sexual connotation. It’ll always put a smile on my face. And he does deserve that, for paying for my school, for making my mother happy—” “So I’ll see you on the second?” “Yup.” “And no more Jerry?” Chris could hear Sophie draw her breath in. “After today.” m 61 M

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“What do you mean, after today?” Chris demanded to know. “I’m supposed to be meeting him for coffee. Just to talk. I . . . I’m going to tell him to get out of my life. I’m going to— Oh shit, look at the time.” “Sophie?!” “No more after today, Chris. Promise. Gotta go. Love you.”

mM Sophie was forty-five minutes late getting to the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf but at least her eyes were dry and she was determined to stay in control of her emotions. No more after today. Jerry was waiting for her, clearly uncomfortable, worrying with his watch, pulling his hair, but the smile when he saw her lit up his face and her heart. No. No, she warned herself. No more after today. She waved him off and went an ordered tea for herself. Lapsang Souchang. Carried it to the outside table where Jerry was seated. Jerry held her chair out. Always the gentleman. “Thanks for coming.” Sophie sat. Busied herself with the tea. “Soph. I, I don’t know what to do. I mean I’ve got to deal with this and I can’t, it’s not fair of me to continue with you although I love y—” “Stop!” Sophie put more force in that word than she intended but it had its intended effect. Jerry stopped. And so did every conversation around them. Conscious of being the center of everyone’s attention, Sophie compelled herself to relax. “Go on.” m 62 M

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This was business. This was taking care of herself. She would have to cut her losses, and soon. And move on. Leave Jerry behind. Jerry had been startled out of what he'd planned to say. The prepared speech with all the politicallycorrect phrasing. “I just can’t do it. I can’t stand that, that . . . twerp.” “So. Move on.” And then Jerry’s pain came out. “I can’t. I have a responsibility to that baby. And I can’t just leave it in her care. She’s not fit to be a mother. She’s not fit to be anything.” “Before, when we talked,” he continued. “Before, you asked what did I want. Well, I don’t want her. But, like I said, I can’t leave the baby to her.” And cutting Sophie off, he went on, “She’ll hold on to that kid till the day she dies, just to have the satisfaction of holding it over my head, over my family’s heads.” “So I have to have some sort of a relationship with her. And . . . and I need to know what a good relationship is. And I know I had one with you, Sophie. But I can’t analyze it. That’s what you’re so good at. So, I guess what I am asking is, what makes a good relationship?” His voice had become plaintive and Sophie saw so clearly the little boy he once had been, trying with all his heart to make the world around him better. That made Sophie stop dead in her tracks. And enabled her to switch to her logical self. And answer. “Having similar approaches in important areas,” she said slowly. “Although they don’t have to be exactly the same. In fact, exactly the same would be quite boring.” m 63 M

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“I’m not religious,” she continued, “but I respect people who are, who have a calling or a faith. But I abhor dogmatism and proselytizing. I believe in moral behavior but that does not have to be attached to church going. You see where I’m going?” Jerry nodded, pensive. Not quite following but unwilling to admit it. “People have the right to their own lives so long as they aren’t hurting others. Guns and killing and executions are bad. Protecting the innocent and providing quality education and universal health care is good.” She sighed. “The US should stay out of other countries and focus on helping Americans. I think the Constitution is good. Lobbyists are not. The government should help people in trouble and keep corporations under control but people should take responsibility for their own actions. Religion, politics, and the perception of one’s place in the world. I guess personal philosophy. Those are the big three to me.” “Wow.” Jerry was impressed by how much serious thought Sophie had put into her response. No one at his high school had ever given much thought to issues. In so many ways she was far more grown up than he was. And he was so glad he knew her. And so sad.

mM On July the second, Sophie flew back to New York. Chris was at JFK to pick her up. He kissed the top of her head and then held her close. Just held her. That’s what she really needed m 64 M

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after these past few weeks of turmoil and feeling so utterly alone. On the way east, a companionable silence lasted until they were out of the New York exurbia, which had heaved itself across the East River decades ago, and into “their” Long Island, the Long Island of greenbelts and small towns and the estates of the wealthy. Sophie spoke first. “What am I going to tell my mother?” “The truth.” “But—” “The truth will always out so you might as well get it over with first. And at least you’re not pregnant. You won’t repeat . . . .” Chris turned to Sophie. “You’re not?” Sophie laughed. She was safe on that front. “No. Jerry was always so careful, even after I went on the pill. That’s what’s so odd.” “Life’s a beach.” An old joke between them. Sophie thought for a moment and came back with: “And then sand gets you in the tender spots.” “Good girl.” And Chris knew that despite all that had happened, Sophie would survive. “So. What’s up with you? You still seeing Jerzy?” Back on Chris and his ever dramatic love life. “No. Finally walked away in March. And now I just don’t know what I saw in that loser.” “And?” Sophie had never known Chris not to be in a relationship. Most of his problems came when he had fallen hard for someone new but couldn’t summon up the strength to tell his old lover he was moving on. m 65 M

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“You’ll see,” Chris grinned cheerfully with the happiness of a new lover. “Ah, I get to meet him then.” Chris nodded. “Local?” Chris shook his head. “So no one I know. He can’t be staying at your place. Your parents would flip. So he has money. Or you’re paying . . . ?” “He has money. I learned my lesson, little girl.” And he ruffled Sophie’s hair. It was so good to have her home again, even if it was just for such a short time.

mM James Ferguson and his mother were meeting with a private investigator James hired. Someone he used occasionally to check up on his clients, and whose discretion and probity could be trusted. Mary’s face was grim. She had not wanted to do this but James in many ways was the most business-like of her sons. As an agent, he had to respect his clients’ privacy but he also saw the wisdom in finding out what they were really up to since creative folk were not necessarily the most truthful people on the planet. The PI had painted a picture of Tiffany that did not bode well for the future. For Jerry or the family. Jerry had assumed she was not much older than him, maybe in her mid-twenties, but in truth she was a good ten years older. Other than that, she appeared to be pretty clean in the legal sense. On the other hand, her family of origin was not. Her mother had never married her father. If, indeed, m 66 M

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Tiffany’s father was the drug dealer her mother had been living with at the time. He had been in and out of prison much of his life and at some point Tiffany and her mother had lost touch with him—no loss to anyone concerned. They were trailer trash at the best of times. And Tiffany’s mother seemed to have made a living of scamming people, primarily by collecting welfare under as many names as possible—her birth name and the names of the purported fathers of each of her children. Moving towns just in time to avoid being caught, with the sums enough small enough to inhibit agencies from incurring legal costs pursuing her. Another favorite was convincing men that they were the father of Tiffany or one of her younger siblings and then taking child support in lieu of marriage. At one point she was getting payments of varying amounts from nine different men as the “fathers” of her three children. She was currently serving time for paper hanging and check kiting; a more frowned-upon form of fraud that she had turned to after the kids grew too old to generate more “fathers.” After a long slightly stunned silence, Gram spoke up. “We shouldn’t automatically tar the Tiffany with the sins of her parents. But at least we know to have our guard up.” James walked the investigator to the door, asking him to continue checking on Tiffany herself. To see if there was any leverage they could use to get her away from Jerry, away from the Fergusons. James came back and put his arms around his mother, knowing how much she was suffering, both for Jerry and for Sophie to whom she had become inordinately attached. m 67 M

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“Mum, we can’t just give in. We’re going to have to fight it but we need to realize that this girl is probably not going to play fair.” Mary nodded, tears seeping out from below closed lashes. She nodded her head, a decision made. “Let’s invite her to our Fourth of July barbecue. Perhaps she’ll turn out to be better than—” “Better the enemy we know and all that,” James smiled. But it was not a warm or welcoming one.

mM Mr. Ogilvie’s Fourth of July extravaganzas had always been that. Extravagant. With platters of cold seafood and salad, gallons of ice cream and spectacular fireworks. He had never chased away the local kids who would sneak in to see the Roman Candles and spinners and pinwheels as long as they stayed behind the safety barriers. In fact, he would hand out sparklers to anyone and everyone. This year, even more people had been invited so he could introduce Georgia to all the friends he had made over the years. Georgia and her daughter, Sophie, the bright young woman he was helping put through USC. He made a point of how she continued to earn scholarships but everyone knew that without his generosity in funding the incidental costs, the travel, the apartment and living expenses, Sophie would never have had this opportunity. Chris stood beside Sophie and whenever anyone pressed her too hard on her romantic prospects in Los Angeles, he would shoo them off saying that m 68 M

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Sophie was so popular they would be here all night if they got started on the subject. For which Sophie was eternally grateful. And for the fact that Chris had laid down the law to both Mr. O (she loved that name now) and her mother to not ask her about Jerry. Sophie dreaded having to explain but both Mr. O and her mother had had their hearts broken in their pasts and were far more sympathetic to her plight than Sophie could have imagined. So the holiday passed well, an idyllic interlude at home with friends and family. Sophie was the center of attention (after her mother and Mr. O, of course) for having done so well at such a prestigious school as USC. And for earning the internship to which she was returning. The historian for whom she would be working was nationally respected both as a history writer and for his grasp of economic theory and application. Sophie spent a stimulating hour with several old friends of Mr. O's with whom she discussed current fiscal problems, both domestic and international. She was thrilled at having them treat her as an equal and they were delighted to expound on their own theories to this gorgeous young woman who was able to follow their conjectures with ease.

mM Tiffany was looking forward to meeting Jerry’s famous family at Kathryn’s barbecue. She had told all her friends about her new boyfriend and really wanted to impress both Jerry and his relatives. “Of course,” she confided to Erica, the trainee on the blaxploitation film on which she had picked up a few day’s work, “I don’t have my ring yet. But I’m m 69 M

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hoping he’ll propose tomorrow. We don’t really have much time before the baby comes.” “You mean before the baby makes it hard for you guys to have an awesome honeymoon, don’cha?” And the two laughed together, excited about Tiffany’s good fortune.

mM At the barbecue, Tiffany did everything she could to endear herself to Jerry’s family. She had picked up a sundress from a previous show which showed off her voluptuous breasts while minimizing her expanding stomach. But besides Kathryn—whose stylish and understated loungewear minimized the figure which had sold a million movie tickets—she looked tawdry. Jerry did take her around and introduce her to everyone—his father Peter, the director; his sister Bethany who was a wardrobe assistant; his uncle Campbell, a world-famous director of photography; Ian, the uncle who had made his name designing some of the biggest spectacle films of the decade; and, of course, Jerry’s adored grandmother Mary, matriarch of the Ferguson family and a respected producer in her own right for decades. And then Jerry cut out with Andy. Tiffany was endlessly polite to Mary but Mary did not unbend to her. Returning to Jerry’s father, Tiffany enthused to Peter about one of his films that she liked only to find that it had been recut by the producers before release and he was embarrassed by having his name attached to it. m 70 M

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She tried to approach Bethany but Bethany would smile fleetingly, say “Just a sec” and cross the room to talk to another one of the relatives. Tiffany looked over at Lorna and Fiona, but the two were obviously discussing her surreptitiously. Tiffany was too awed by Campbell, the famous DP, and Ian, the production designer, to even consider opening her mouth around them. And she could not help but cringe when she caught sight of the facial scarring on Jerry’s agent uncle, James. Tiffany was rescued from her isolation by a courtly gentleman who had just arrived. “Hello. You must be Tiffany?” She nodded. And smiled. Nick didn’t think she looked too bad. Certainly not the monster his older brother Peter had made her out to be. But it would certainly be hard for her to fill Sophie’s shoes. “I’m Nick, just another one of Jerry’s uncles. You’re a make-up artist?” Tiffany fluttered her eyelashes at this debonair man who was focusing his attention on her. Ah, at last I’m seen as someone, as good as Jerry’s other relatives. They shouldn’t be turning their backs on me. After all, I am having his child, great-grandchild of that old woman. Nick saw the calculations click over in Tiffany’s mind and didn’t like it. Didn’t like what he sensed at all. On the other hand . . . .

mM It was a much happier Sophie who boarded the flight back to Los Angeles a few days later. “If you need me, I’ll be there,” whispered Chris as he hugged her before Sophie went through security, m 71 M

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echoing the sentiments of both her mother and Mr. O when she had bid them farewell back at the house.

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It Was the Worst of Times In Long Island with her mother and Chris, Sophie had started to come out of the shock she had been thrown into by Jerry’s abandonment of her. But back in Los Angeles, the pain hit again full force. And again, and again, each time she was reminded of what she had lost. And memories were everywhere in her apartment and on the streets of Los Angeles. Here's where Jerry took me to lunch, here is the spot on the sofa which he had claimed as his own. Each time she saw a black F150 on the street. Each time she dreamed. Sophie would be aroused, wonderfully aroused. And Jerry was there, stroking, licking, touching. Invading her mouth, sucking her breasts till her nipples sent sharp points of ecstasy throughout her entire body, till she arched under Jerry, writhing with pleasure, gasping, desiring him with every cord of her being. Waiting for him to enter her, to thrust deep inside and take her over the edge to that wonderful world of pure passion, pure lust, pure love, forever and ever and . . . . m 73 M

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And then she would wake up, sweating, gagging, sick with the sense of loss, knowing Jerry was gone. Knowing that she would have to go on without him. Each time the pain was a kick in the stomach which left Sophie shaking. Each time she had to focus on her breathing to bring herself back to the present. Where she was alive and Jerry was with someone else. Well-meaning friends told her the ache would ease with time but Sophie thought differently. It was as if her heart had been torn out, cast aside, and she was going through the motions of living but without her soul.

mM Sophie threw herself into her internship, buried herself in researching economic trends throughout the world in the 1850s and 60s and helping Dr. Heilig chart possible trends and connections. Seven, eight hours a day she could lose herself a century and a half in the past. It was the other hours she had to fill up, pretend to herself all was well when she knew that it wasn’t. That she had been dealt a fatal blow and was somehow hanging on, a shadow of her former self, going through the motions but not alive. Not alive in the way she had come to experience it with Jerry.

mM Jerry had twice made plans to move in with Tiffany who preferred to live west-side. And twice he had backed out. m 74 M

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His head said it was the right thing to do. But his heart shied away from the commitment. Andy thought he was nuts, had spent hours trying to convince his nephew to bail on Tiffany. To make things up with Sophie who the whole family adored. That argument Jerry could win. It was his baby, his responsibility and the baby, no matter how accidental, should have a father as well as a mother. But somehow Jerry could never get around his physical revulsion of Tiffany. It was something he had mentioned to no-one. But having her touch him made his skin creep. And each time he found a reason to back out of moving in, there was such a surge of visceral relief that he knew he had done the right thing. Again. But sooner or later he told himself he would have to move in with her. Be with Tiffany. Be there for their baby.

mM Mary watched her family react in their different ways to this girl to whom she had taken an immediate and an intense dislike. It wasn’t based on what the PI had told James, although Tiffany’s background certainly confirmed the correctness of her intuition. It wasn’t based on her sense of fairness and how both Jerry’s and Sophie’s lives had been torn apart by this interloper. It was something far more basic. The defense reaction of a lioness when one of her cubs is threatened. And as she watched Jerry, she saw what had been a gentle, loving soul shrivel, fade into the m 75 M

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despair of being caught between what he wanted and what he felt he ought to do. And while she knew it was the “right” choice, the gallant one, the one the world would respect, Mary couldn’t help but feel that it was wrong, wrong, wrong.

mM Tiffany felt betrayed by Jerry. Here she was carrying his baby and he hadn’t offered to marry her. He hadn’t even moved in with her. Well, when pressed he had agreed but always found some lame-assed excuse to delay—he was busy at work, Randy needed him to look after the apartment while he and Shawna were in San Diego. Excuses that he would not have made if he was really committed to her. And she had no interest in staying with him over in Los Feliz. For heaven’s sakes it was almost at the 5 Freeway. But she knew she had to bind him closer to her. Now. Before the baby came and he could come up with more excuses. More lame-assed excuses. Oh, he was good about it. Would take her out to dinner, pay every time. Even give her cash when she asked for it, agreed to pay her rent so she didn’t have to go on working. But he didn’t seem to notice the sexy tops she wore. Appeared uninterested in her attempts at conversation. If he didn’t want to talk about his family and the stars on the movie he was on for the summer, fine, but he should at least make an effort to pay attention to her. m 76 M

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Jerry found Tiffany’s choice in clothing obvious and tacky. She was clearly trying to lure him back into her bed but was failing miserably. At least with him. She so totally turned him off. No brain, no culture, and her increasing corpulence disgusted him. How did I ever get it up with her in the first place? He didn’t even try to bed her knowing that he would not, could not manufacture an erection when faced with her flabby body. It would embarrass her more than him but she wouldn’t know that. And, well, the idea, just the idea of coupling with Tiffany made him feel dirty, unclean. Compared with Sophie, she was on the other end of the bell curve in just about anything that mattered to him. And her endless discussions of the plots of the various soaps that made up her daytime existence exasperated him. But he forced himself to be there for her. She was carrying his child. A new generations of Fergusons. And this baby did not deserve to suffer because of Jerry’s misfortune.

mM July faded into August; the dog days of summer in Los Angeles were upon them. Sophie was reminded of the time a year ago when she first saw Jerry. During the day it would be just the occasional passing thought but at night— At night it all came back. Jerry was walking across the square in front of Norris with a roll of the cable across his back. Big thick wire, slung across a back that was wellmuscled and tanned a golden brown above hips that made Sophie’s heart flip-flop, and glutes that barely m 77 M

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held up a pair of well-worn jeans—really sexy glutes that rolled when he walked. Again and again Sophie relived how her mouth had dropped open and how the same strong urge seemed to push the tops of her thighs apart. Something warm and moist, and a heat rose through her body, generating a pricking sensation over her skin, a tenderness in her breasts, making her feel more alive than she had ever felt before. He had such wonderful hair. Curly and brown. Not an ordinary brown, but a mix of all shades of brown and golden reds, all curling together. And then she had looked up into his eyes. Deep hazel eyes. Not solid like hers, but speckled like a tessellated wall mosaic, given life by tiny flecks of gold that were there and then gone. She couldn’t turn away. And she couldn’t say anything either. Her body would melt in her dreams as it had that day. That day that had faded into the night of her initiation into the rites of sexual pleasure. Of giving and of receiving . . . . And Sophie would moan herself awake, her own dreams betraying her decision to leave Jerry and her life for most of the past year there. In the past. And move on. But she couldn’t. At least not yet.

mM Bethany was pissed. Partly because Pauline and Jennifer, the other two wardrobe assistants on the show she was on, were gifted at goofing off, and not much else. Which meant that Bethany was carrying far more than her fair share of the work. But mostly because of what she had just overheard. m 78 M

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Pauline had been laughing as she ran a steamer half-heartedly up and down a gown that would be needed shortly for a pick-up shot. “Ya gotta give it to her, Jen, she’s got nerve. But she’s got the guy dancin’ attention and she says he’s gonna marry her.” “That’s what she wants. So, why hasn’t he done it?” “Commitment-a-phobia. Like most guys.” “Yeah, but—” Bethany was just going to move the two of them along when Pauline went on. “No buts, Jen. She’s got herself a Ferguson kid in the belly and one that’ll walk her to the altar.” Bethany froze. They must be talking about Tiffany. Tiffany and Jerry, her brother. And didn’t realize she was standing there, overhearing their gossip. “Are you sure it’s his? I heard she was sleeping around on that dude Rabbit when he got picked up.” “When they busted the meth lab?” “Yup. Bethany couldn’t breathe. It was as if the world was spinning along and leaving her behind. But she couldn’t just go to Jerry with this. Insinuations with no documentation. What to do?

mM Sophie was walking back to her car with Dr. Heilig when it happened. The doctor had turned to head off toward faculty parking and she had swung back to continue on her way when she accidentally bumped into Jerry. Neither knew what to say. m 79 M

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Sophie recovered first. “You, you’re here to sign up for the fall.” Stating the obvious as they were just east of the Cinema-Television complex. Jerry’s mouth opened and closed several times. The words just would not come. He swallowed then croaked: “Uh-huh.” He looked away and then continued, “I wasn’t going to but Andy, you remember Andy?” Sophie nodded. “He wanted me to keep my options open. You know. Have a fall back plan.” “For what?” Sophie’s question wasn’t critical, it wasn’t sarcastic, but it cut him to the core. “I don’t know.” Jerry finally got the guts to look her straight in the eye. Those beautiful brown eyes. “I just don’t know.” He swallowed. Took a deep breath. “I . . . I have to marry her. Support the baby.” He shook his head. He could go no further. Impulsively, Sophie took his hand. A generosity of spirit flowing out to the man she once loved. “You have to do what you have to do. But only marry her if you love her. Otherwise it wouldn’t be fair. Fair to her. To . . . .” Sophie took a deep breath herself, “to Tiffany.” Jerry looked away. Then at the hand in his. Brought that tawny hand he loved so much to his lips. Kissed it. Pressed it back to its owner, then turned and walked away. He did not look back.

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The Ghosts of Christmas Past Sophie really enjoyed her work with Dr. Heilig. He had a quick intelligent mind that stimulated her own. He also seemed oblivious of her as a woman which she appreciated. Stories about students being hit on by their mentors, advisors and professors abounded on all campuses. It is very hard to reject a come-on from someone whose mark might mean the difference between a passing or failing grade, an offer from an A-list company or being doomed to reading the classified ads upon graduation. Her work was slowly leading her out of the pit of despair she'd fallen into following Jerry’s departure. Sophie began to smile again, to laugh. To go out for dinner with those of her classmates who also had on-campus jobs for the summer, or were picking up some additional credits.

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Every time Jerry went over to visit Tiffany he felt stifled. By her cramped west-side apartment, by its clutter, and by Tiffany’s swelling girth. Surely she should not be this heavy so soon. And by her constant less-than-subtle hints that they tie the knot officially. And soon. “What does your doctor say about your weight?” Tiffany shrugged. “Not happy but I keep telling him it runs in my family.” She came over to where he was seated at her dinette and thrust her boobs in his face. “I thought you guys liked voluptuous on a woman. Mmm?” When she came down for a kiss, Jerry pushed back, protesting, “Ti-iff!” Pouting she frumped over to the sofa and flopped down. “So when are we getting married. I want to have a father for our child.” Her eyes narrowed. “On paper, nice and legal.” Jerry gave in to the inevitable. Commitment. “Ok. Let’s set a date.” “How about next week.” That set Jerry back—most of the girls he knew from high-school had spent years planning and executing the fanciest ceremonials that their parents could afford. Of course, Tiffany didn’t have any family, at least none she spoke of. “What about October, when it’s cooler. And sure—” Tiffany cut him off, petulantly. “No. Now. I want to be married now.” “We’ve got oodles of time. Another four, five months.” And thinking to placate her with his family connections: “And Kathleen and Ian won’t be back now till September, the end of September.” m 82 M

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“Oh, come on. Let’s run off to Vegas tonight and do it tonight. They have awesome air-conditioning in those hotels. It’ll be fun.” But Jerry wasn’t buying in. “Your family can throw us a party later when we’re, when there’ll be, less stress,” she wheedled. “I don’t want to wait until I have to worry about the baby coming early with all the excitement. Come on, Gerard.” Jerry gritted his teeth. He hated the name on his birth certificate. It sounded so, so pretentious. But Tiffany thought it made him sound mature. Fat lot she knew. But she had a point. Maybe he should just stop stalling and bite the bullet. Get it over with. Just then his cell phone rang.

mM Mary had gone to visit Peter at his Malibu home. Ostensibly just to get out to the beach and away from the inland heat. But also to try and ferret out what was happening with her favorite grandson. Of course, she had only the one, but he was pretty special in her eyes. Peter was on the phone with his manager— arguing. The manager wanted him to leave on scout for a film to be shot in New Mexico but Peter wanted to stay in Los Angeles, be here for Jerry. Mary smiled. She had raised her children well. Too well, perhaps. Off the phone, Peter put together some cheese and fruit and they headed out to the patio which had a good sea breeze, wonderful after the hot stillness that had settled over Mary’s house. And most of the rest of the city. m 83 M

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“Anything?” Mary’s eyebrows communicated what about. Peter smiled at the mannerism that was so much his mother’s and so much his son’s. “Do you want something to drink?” Peter needed a few more minutes to wrap his thoughts about Jerry . . . around the emotions. Figure out just how far he wanted to go on the subject. He was coming back with the Perrier Mary had requested when the doorbell rang. It was Bethany with something on her mind.

mM Saved by the bell. Or, in this case, by the ring of his cell phone. And Jerry’s face lit up when he heard his uncle’s voice. It was Campbell’s fascination with light and transferring images to celluloid that had drawn Jerry into the film business in the first place. Tiffany saw the smile and felt both the pain of exclusion for not being the subject of it, and the stirring of real love for this boy. If only . . . . Campbell was doing some camera tests for the show he was starting in September and wondered if Jerry could help him out for a few days. “When?” asked Jerry and his heart leapt as his uncle responded. “Right now, of course. Who’dya think I’d call on a slow Sunday afternoon.” “Gotta go.” Jerry grabbed his tool belt, kissed a disappointed Tiffany good-bye. Pulled back when she would have drawn him closer and headed out the door. To work. And freedom.

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mM Mary, Peter and Bethany were still out on the deck, each thinking their own sad thoughts when they heard the doors slide open behind them. This time it was Campbell. “Well, let me try and figure out what you gang have been discussing.” They turned to him as he continued: “Now me, I’m ready to take the bull by the horns and confront him. Jerry is being far too, too righteous for his own good. And I, for one am not having my nephew destroy his life. Mary looked him straight in the eye and said calmly but with a voice of steel: “Campbell, it is his life. And he is doing the right thing which is very rare in this Gomorrah of Hollywood.” Campbell took a breath. His mother could always cut him to the quick. “Come on, Mary. There is right and there is right. And this is, is martyrdom on Jerry’s behalf. I am sure this Tiffany chick appreciates it but she, both of them had other—” “That’s not all,” Bethany broke in. “I overheard something. That it might not even be Jerry’s baby after all.” “Ouch!” Campbell blew on his fingers and shook his hand as if he’d been burned. “Nasty. And dicey.” The others nodded in complete agreement. Mary spoke first. “If we tell him and it is his, we’ve set the relationship up for failure.” Campbell made a face, contemplating all the potential outcomes. “And if we tell him and it isn’t—” Then Bethany joined in: “And if we don’t tell him he'll marry her and then . . . . ” m 85 M

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All four nodded. And sank back into their own thoughts until Campbell looked at his watch. “Gotta go. I’m supposed to meet him out at Panavision about five minutes ago.” Mary half rose, her hand reaching out to her son. “Just be there for him. Let him know that we wish him well with all our hearts, and that we are all here for him whatever road he chooses.” Campbell took a moment to appreciate his mother. Then hugged her, the center of the Ferguson family, fisted brother Peter’s shoulder, made a courtly bow to Bethany. And left.

mM By the time Campbell got out to Panavision where the weekend security guard had been authorized to let him onto the insert stage, Jerry was already unloading the equipment he had picked up from his uncle’s storage garage in Van Nuys. “Say, Jerry.” Picking up some coils of cable, Campbell followed his nephew in. “Just what was going on when I called? You sounded as if I was rescuing you from a fate worth than death.” Jerry dropped his load of cable. “Not you, too.” “Jerry. We only want to help.” Jerry sighed and sank down on the pile of cable. “Tiffany wants me to marry her and I know it’s the right thing and I know I’m committed to it.” He paused. “To making it right for the baby. But I just— It’s just that my stomach knots up each time I think about setting a date. She’s just . . . . Oh, my head says yes but my body says . . . yuck.” m 86 M

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“So maybe it’s not the right thing to do,” cut in Campbell. “No.” Jerry responded sharply. “She says the baby's mine and I’ll do it. It’s just . . . . Why do I have to do it now. I . . . I . . . . This is the twentyfirst century. We can marry after it’s born and noone is going to give it, him, her, a hard time.” “Did you ever think that . . . .” Campbell paused to pick his words with care. “That it might . . . not— make it?” Jerry’s face whipped up to his uncle’s. And then his eyes dropped in acknowledgement. “It sure would make my life easier.” He took a couple of deep breaths. “But I can’t thing like that, can’t think harm to my unborn child . . . I think Tiffany just wants all the hoopla about marrying a Ferguson before she gets too big to enjoy it.” “And you?” queried his uncle. Jerry shook his head despondently. “I just want to slink away somewhere and get it over with.” “Slink away?” asked Campbell. Jerry looked close to tears. “I just feel I failed everybody. You, the family, Sophie. And I, and I don’t even remember it. Nothing. Nada. Just that there was something wrong with my room when I woke up that morning.” And in a lower voice Jerry continued, “And I have absolutely no memory from when I was waiting for Sophie in the bar, waiting and worrying. And then waking up in my room.” Campbell put his hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “Shit, man, life isn’t easy at times.” Jerry nodded in agreement.

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Their silence, the silence in the dark and empty building was shattered by the ringing of Jerry’s cell phone. “Yes?” He heard panting, then Tiffany’s voice, shrill with panic. “Jerry, Gerard, the baby. I think it’s coming.” Campbell drove Jerry to the West L.A. Medical Center on Cadillac. “Do you want me to come in?” Jerry shook his head, no. “I’ll call. You and dad. Once I know what’s up. You have work to do.” He smiled ruefully. “And I guess I do, too.” Inside, the nurses directed him to a curtained cubicle where Tiffany was already clad in a hospital shift, definitely not her best look. She looked grey and sweat beaded her upper lip. As he entered, she started to moan and he could see her belly ripple. “Where are the doctors?” Wildly, he turned back to get help. When Tiffany spoke out of her pain, pitifully. “No. Stay with me, Jerry. It hurts.” “I know. That’s why we need to get you a doctor. It’s far too early. They’ve got to do something.” Guilt from his thoughts earlier surged to the surface. Jerry panicked. How could I wish for this to happen? As the contraction receded, Tiffany’s voice strengthened. “No, Gerard. They’ve been and . . . .” She took a deep breath. “It’s just hurry up and wait time.” Just then a tired young doctor stuck his head in. “Ah. So you’re the father. They told me you’d arrived.” “Please help her. She’s going to lose the baby.” “No, not at all.” The doctor responded soothingly. “Your wife is going to be just fine, Mr. Ferguson.” m 88 M

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Jerry grabbed the doctor’s arm, his panic welling over into physical action. “But the baby, it’s not even five months.” The doctor opened his mouth, then took a quick look at his patient. At Tiffany. And so chose to speak more carefully. “Actually, I think both mother and son going to be fine. Why don’t you step outside with me for a minute.” “No!” Tiffany shouted, lifting herself off the bed, then collapsing back . . . moaning as another constriction struck. The doctor lifted Jerry’s hands off his arm and headed outside, ignoring the panting woman. Jerry looked at Tiffany who looked away, then followed the doctor. To a office cubicle of minute proportion around the corner from the emergency intake area. “Shouldn’t you—” “They’ll be taking her up shortly.” The doctor smiled. “Don’t worry, we have lots of experience with bringing babies into the world. Now. Please sit down.” Jerry sat. “I’m Mark James, your wife’s doctor.” Seeing Jerry start, Mark continued. “So, you aren’t married?” “Not legally, not yet.” “I wondered with our Tiffany. She can be a bit obscure at times. And not having a husband come to at least some of her appointments. Well . . . .” “But what about the baby?” Mark pursed his lips and sighed. “He’ll be fine.” “It’s a boy?” All of a sudden, Jerry was excited. “Yes,” the doctor nodded. Then continued, looking Jerry straight in the eye, “Due in two weeks.

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So he is in no real danger. This heat, your wife, sorry, your girlfriend’s excitement . . . .” Just as quickly as the excitement had risen, it vanished. And Jerry sank back, fell back into his chair. He could barely breathe. In two weeks. That meant, that meant . . . . “Here, drink this.” The doctor was handing him a paper cup of water. Jerry sipped, swallowed. Looked up. His world was spinning. “She, Tiffany . . . .” Suddenly he felt sick to his stomach and barely made it to the wastebasket by the desk. As the heaving eased, Jerry rolled back on his heels. “I’m sorry.” Mark looked at him, and sighed. “No apologies necessary. I’ll get rid of this and then we can talk.” Jerry sat down, his mind swirling around the turn of events. If the baby was due in two weeks? Tiffany, it was March in Flagstaff, well after the Valentine’s Day sexual romp with Sophie, therefore . . . . Dimly over the hospital noise, he heard a page for Dr. James but it didn’t register, at least not yet. Time passed. Jerry’s body returned to normal. He poured himself another cup of tepid water, rinsed out his mouth and spat into the pot of a shaggy African violet. It could do with some moisture. Then added the rest of the water to wash away those little bits of ick.

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More time passed. Then the doctor stuck his head in the door. If anything, he looked even more tired. m 90 M

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“Still here?” He smiled at his own redundancy. “Follow me.” Jerry got up, his body feeling creaky but easing up as he followed Dr. James to an elevator. As it ascended, he asked: “Tiffany?” “Fine. The baby just decided to come early.” Jerry took a breath. “And it? Him?” “Also fine. I thought you’d like to see him.” “I . . . it . . . I only met Tiffany in March. I—” “The child isn’t yours. And I want you to see him so you can know it isn’t.” The elevator doors opened and Jerry followed Mark down a corridor. And then another. “Your family is wealthy?” Jerry felt shame. “We do ok.” They arrived at a window behind which were placed a dozen or so neonates in hospital bassinets turned to face their relatives who were getting the first views of the new family additions. Mark pointed. “There.” Jerry looked at a wizened baby swaddled in blue. He didn’t see anything Ferguson looking back at him. For that matter, he didn’t see much of Tiffany either. The baby was caramel-colored, of a shade which denoted black or mixed ancestry. For a minute, Jerry wondered if that is how his and Sophie’s kids would look. But then he pushed the thought away. He had driven the love of his life far, far away. He sighed. Then turned to the doctor. “Tiffany?” “Down here. And I warn you she is not happy.” Jerry’s eyes took on a worldly-wise cast as he responded: “She never was.”

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“Does she have anyone else that you know of,” the doctor asked. Jerry thought. Tiffany had avoided talking about her family. “I think there are, were a younger brother, and sisters.” He looked away. “I heard some people talking. They said that her mother and the brother were in prison. But maybe one of the sisters?” And then they were in the ward. Jerry could hear Tiffany before he saw her. “What do you mean? I demand you get the doctor in here right away and—” She drifted off when she saw the doctor. And Jerry following. Anger at the doctor was followed immediately by fear. Of Jerry. Of what she had done. Jerry just felt very tired—but he was surprisingly compassionate. “Let me talk to her.” As the doctor walked away, Jerry grabbed a chair and pulled it up to Tiffany’s bed. “I didn’t know . . . .” Jerry closed his eyes. Opened them. Looked into hers. “I could get not knowing who. And I understand why. But how in God’s name did you ever think you could slide the when by me, by anyone?” In a small voice, she responded, “Well, I did. For a while.” Jerry shook his head. The silence stretched and stretched. “I guess we’re not getting married. Are we?” For the first time in months Jerry felt the weight of the world lift. “No. No, we’re not. And it may not be easy for you. But that is not my problem.” He started to get up. To walk away. To put this all behind him. m 92 M

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As he turned his back, Tiffany spoke again. “Don’t you want to know why?” He shook his head, no, but made the mistake of glancing back at her. He sat when Tiffany gestured to the chair. What could a few extra minutes cost him? Tiffany looked at Jerry. And then she looked away. “I thought it was Rabbit’s.” Off of Jerry’s puzzled look, she continued. “Rabbit was my boyfriend. He’s doing time now. Got caught cooking meth. His coloring is sort of like yours. I guess, you’re what he would look like if he had had your upbringing.” Tiffany could never hold back the insults. Jerry was glad, more than glad, he would be walking away from her for good. “I didn’t know I was pregnant until I was in Flagstaff,” she continued. “I met you and thought you were the perfect answer to my prayers except that you would never pay me the time of day.” Jerry reacted. “You kept insulting me.” Tiffany looked at Jerry though bitter eyes, a woman scorned. Then she smiled. “And that night your girlfriend didn’t show? I dropped a roofie in your drink. What goes around comes around, you know. But I guess it was too much ’cause you just passed out. I had to get the bartender to help me carry you to your room. He was so helpful. Helped me get your keycard to open the door and everything.” She frowned again. “But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get you up. You know.” Tiffany demonstrated the time-honored symbol for a handjob. m 93 M

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Jerry looked away. He was totally disgusted. With her. And with himself for getting caught in such a common trap. “But I rolled about in the bed. Slept a bit even, used the towels. You were still right out when I got a call from someone wanting some meth. I still deal a bit, you know. But you must have got up when I went to do the deal because I could hear voices, your voice when I got back. Then I got another call. Saturdays were always busy there . . . .” Jerry was still looking at her, so Tiffany forged ahead. “It wasn’t till I was back in Santa Monica that I found out I was due in September. And by then it was too late for an abortion. So I did what I had to. If you had only married me when I asked.” Jerry stared in disbelief as Tiffany continued to ramble. Was it the painkillers from the birth? he wondered. Or is she really this much of a bitch? “What I hadn’t counted on, what I forgot was there was this party which sort of degenerated into an, an orgy of sorts before Christmas. The ghosts of Christmas past, eh, Gerard. You know, I was faithful to Rabbit. Well, most of the time.” Jerry shook his head. People. He sighed. “Do you need anything?” Tiffany shook her head. “It was going to be so rad, married to you. No, I called Pauline. She’s going to pick me up. Make some plans.” Tiffany patted Jerry’s hand. For the last time. “Go back to your family, rich boy. Count yourself lucky.” Jerry pulled away and strode out of the ward. Out of the hospital. He didn’t feel very lucky. Sophie was gone. m 94 M

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So Far Away It was a quiet Labor Day for the Fergusons that year. Ian had come home early and they had all gone up to his place at Big Bear to escape the stultifying heat of the city. Jerry was still coming to terms with Tiffany’s betrayal and trying not to be bitter about his loss of Sophie. Not having to marry Tiffany was a major relief but it made the loss of his true love the more painful to accept. After Sophie had told him to contact her no longer last June, he had respected her wishes. And now, even though his circumstances had changed, he felt it unfair for him to bully his way back into her life. Bethany and Mary felt he should give Sophie the option but all the men agreed with Jerry. And anyway, it was too soon. Jerry would have to heal his soul first. His family respected his suffering, gave him room to grieve. So it was a peaceful gathering if lacking the joy of previous family occasions. For Jerry there was an exquisite pain in not having Sophie by his side. At m 95 M

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the moment, he could not conceive of being able to find any woman who could come close to filling her place.

mM Sophie was looking forward to the Labor Day gathering that Dr. Heilig had agreed to host for the grad students who had been working the summer as interns for the history faculty. The professors were an interesting if somewhat eccentric lot and she kept wondering what their respective wives and husbands and significant others would be like. During the summer, her path had crossed from time to time with the other students, all but herself in the graduate program, but she had never really gotten to know any of them. With their shared interest in history, they at least had common ground on which to initiate conversation. Sophie arrived at Dr. Heilig’s house carrying an apple pie crumble. She was greeted at the door by Dr. Heilig’s wife, Maria, another non-medical doctor who specialized in numbers theory. Looking around the kitchen as Maria put the pie on the counter until after everyone had gorged on barbecue, Sophie chuckled to herself. The room was more a library with its stacks of books and piles of papers than a cooking center. The two doctors were clearly meant for each other. Although they went through the motions of being part of the normal world, they really lived on a plane of their own making. On the patio out back, people were standing around watching Professor Staunton, one of the m 96 M

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youngest history faculty members, and a couple of students attempt to unlock the mysteries of a gas barbecue. Steaks, salmon, turkey sausages were all laid out to go but they could not get the grill going. Sophie looked at the tableau for a minute as Maria started to make the rounds, introducing Sophie to those she did not know. “Hold on a sec.” Everyone turned to look as Sophie crossed to the barbecue and turned everything off. “Hey!” said the guys, put out. “We’re trying to light this things” pointed out Professor Staunton, waving around the lighter he held thus extinguishing the flame at its tip. “So I see,” stated Sophie as she reached down and turned the handle on the gas canister perched below till it was fully open. “Go at it maestro.” Staunton dialed into “Light” one more time, clicked his Bic, and whoosh, fire erupted into the air above the grill, luckily doing no harm other than to singe the oven mitt which protected the professor’s hand. Smiling, Sophie returned to Maria and her round of introductions. Her actions at the grill earned her thumbs up from many, most of the women but also a few of the guys. So she was grinning when Maria brought her to a full stop in front of a gangling and bespectacled black man. “And this,” placing her hand on the man’s arm, “is Jeremy. Jeremy Latham. He will be Roy, Dr. Heilig’s, TA this year.” Sophie froze. Antenna up and sensing. This is a set up. Mmm. With a pat on Sophie’s back, Maria moved on. m 97 M

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“Uh, so you’re Roy’s special student?” Jeremy asked quietly. Sophie didn’t know how to reply. She wanted to be courteous but she was not interested in a relationship. At least not so soon after being tossed aside by Jerry. Well, not tossed aside exactly but that’s how it felt. “Special student?” Sophie managed to get out. “Yes, Roy always hitches up with a student, usually someone who is a bit of a misfit, to lavish his attentions on. Usually it’s a grad student, though.” Jeremy looked her up and down. Sophie didn’t appreciate the scrutiny and she certainly didn’t like being considered a misfit. She took a deep breath, then another one. “I think you must be confusing me with somebody else. I earned an internship with Dr. Heilig. I am not a misfit.” Dead silence. Then she continued. “And you are who?” That riled Jeremy. “I was his intern two years ago. I’ve been at Heidelberg for the past year. An exchange student. Comparing the oral histories of the blacks on the Underground Railway to the Romany, excuse me, gypsies to you lay folk.” Sophie’s eyes narrowed. “I know about the Romany. And isn’t Germany an odd place to study the Roma considering Hitler managed to cleanse the country of most of them? Along with the gays and the Jews?” Her sweet but acerbic tone had attracted the attention of some of the other students who drifted over to see what was going on. m 98 M

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At first Sophie shrank from being the center of attention but was irritated enough by being set up like this to continue. She relaxed, eying this black man who thought he could put her in her place. She wouldn’t be put, not by Jeremy, not by any of them. “It was a great opportunity . . . .” Good. Now she had him on the defensive. “If you’re going to work in history, you need to visit the cradle of civilization.” Sophie smirked. Now I’ve got him. “Germany? Home of the Goths and the Huns and Hitler? The cradle of civilization? Personally, I’d pick Egypt, Mesopotamia, India or China over the center of the Dark Ages, the flashpoint of more genocidal wars than I can count.” Jeremy was sputtering now. He clearly was expecting to impress her and here he was floundering. And the girl behind Sophie whispered, “Way to go. We’ve been wanting to deflate that son of a bitch’s ego since he started to pump it up years ago.” Sophie turned her ire on her erstwhile fan. “So why didn’t you?” Taken aback, the woman’s mouth opened and closed. “Because it’s not politically correct to criticize a black man.” Sophie took a minute to process the truth of that statement. “So you had to wait for a partly black woman to stand in for you? Don’t you think not telling the truth in situations like these is equally prejudicial?”

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It might not have been the best way to introduce herself, but Sophie ended up having a good time. Mostly she stayed with the other women students and she noticed that after their first confrontation, Jeremy kept his distance. As she accepted her empty pie-plate from Maria before leaving, she thanked her hostess. Maria’s lips curved in a wry grimace. “You handled yourself well there, Sophie. Roy shouldn’t have set you up like that but I couldn’t talk him out of it. His two favorite students. That man has all the brains in the world and absolutely no clue about interpersonal relationships. Don’t I know.” As they walked to the door, Maria continued. “And you are always welcome back in this house. Roy may complain a bit but Jeremy needed to be taken down a peg or two. And you did it gracefully. Very gracefully.” All in all a pleasant evening thought Sophie as she drove back to her empty apartment.

mM A cousin of Cory's—who was going to be working in the garment district downtown—had moved in with Sophie when she got back from Long Island and would be splitting the rent with her at least through Christmas. Jenna lived in a totally separate world from Sophie. Clothes and boys was all she could talk about—much like Shawna when they had first met. Jenna was thrilled to be working in what Mr. O referred to as the shmatte business. m 100 M

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Jenna’s excitement overflowed in the apartment at times and Sophie could only appreciate her wideeyed embrace of the world. It made her feel like an old, old lady. So many years since she was that young and innocent. Or at least it felt that way.

mM Jerry ended up starting at USC that fall after all thanks to Andy’s foresight. In many ways his classes were a snap. Having worked the year, having grown up a Ferguson, he had the film biz down cold. But he was surprised to find the gaps in his learning and started to read voraciously in order to catch up with those of his classmates with more of an academic background. For the first few days, he kept looking around whenever he walked out of the Cinema-Television compound. Just checking things out, he told himself, but in reality he was hoping for a glimpse of Sophie. He still could not get her out of his mind. But he didn’t feel it was fair of him to call on her. In fact he was terrified that if he did call, he would find himself shut out of her life forever. So long as he didn’t call, he could still dream of getting back together. So close and yet so far away. He had her numbers, he had looked up where the history faculty was based on campus, but he still couldn’t act. It was one of his film profs who finally gave Jerry the boot that made him take stock of his situation, take action. Even if it was just a baby step. Gregor taught the Fundamentals of Cinema Technique—the basic production class that was required of all undergraduate film students. Late in m 101 M

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the second week, Gregor called Jerry back after class. “You’re one of those Fergusons, aren’t you?” Jerry nodded. Caught out again. “And you’ve worked on shows.” “Just as an electrician.” “Well, I can see this class is a waste of your time. Not that I don’t like you but I think you’d be better off locking down one of your more academic electives this fall than sleepwalking through my lectures.” Handing Jerry a form he had already prepared, Gregor continued, “Go to the registrar and shift over to something else, something to exercise your brain. Russian, philosophy, history . . . .” Jerry’s heart leapt when he heard history. And soon he was signed up for a basic history class, an overview of modern European history. Knowing stuff like that always was useful and it had the added value of bringing him closer to Sophie’s world.

mM But he still didn’t see Sophie. Their schedules clearly did not mesh. I guess it’s not meant to be, he thought more often than he wanted. So Jerry focused instead on the reading and academic studies in film and his growing appreciation of the field in which Sophie had chosen to immerse herself. As the days grew shorter, his workload grew heavier. School might not have the grueling thirteen and fourteen hour days of production but it did have homework. Having coasted through high school and then having taken the year off, it took Jerry a while to get m 102 M

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into a university study mode. He found most of his fellow Cinema students a little naïve and ended up spending more and more time reading widely in his history course. His admiration for Sophie—who was combining this work with her economic studies—increased by leaps and bounds. He could barely handle the basic history curriculum. He found the professor fascinating but developed an instinctive dislike for the TA, a young black man with a slightly supercilious manner.

mM Sophie was having a hellacious year. Since she had managed to sail through her first two semesters with flying colors, she had convinced some of her profs to allow her to take courses at the graduate level. And indeed, they were far more interesting. And far more challenging. It would have been fine if she had stuck to one or two, but she was taking four classes, two each in history and economics. And it was only after she had passed the last date to change classes that she found out there was a cap on how many grad classes an undergrad could take on in a semester. But somehow her history and economic profs had not communicated— And now she was stuck. Up nights and weekends to all hours. Doheny Library seemed to be her second home. And Sophie had burned through an entire case of paper on her homework by mid October.

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Plus she was Trevor’s teaching assistant on his undergrad course on Ancient Egypt which had attracted almost a hundred and fifty students. But Sophie was still pulling in good marks. When her mother and Mr. O called to excuse themselves from Thanksgiving this year because Mr. O was taking Georgia for a two week pre-nuptial cruise through the Greek islands and the Adriatic all the way to Istanbul, Sophie was sad she would miss them but glad she wouldn’t have to play hostess and pull time from her studies. She wished them well, and half hoped she would have the opportunity to take that same cruise in the not too distant future, through the world of the Greeks and the Romans and the Persians.

mM Late October, after a couple of weeks of dry dusty Santa Ana winds, Sophie could no longer ignore the increasing irritation in her right eye. The doctor on duty at the student health center told her that one of her corneas was scratched, probably from the omnipresent grit in the air, and had become infected. Her eye duly irrigated and taped shut for the next twenty-four hours, and with antibiotic drops and ointment in hand, Sophie headed across campus to Doheny. She might give herself a headache, but she could still study with one eye. The Santa Anas had given way during the afternoon to a cold blustery wind promising rain when Sophie cut across the courtyard outside of Norris. m 104 M

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Pulling her sweater close, Sophie paused by the tree from which shade she had first sighted Jerry a little over a year ago. She had not seen him for four months but the thought of him still tugged at her heart. She hoped he was happy. That the baby was healthy. She smiled, shaking her head. Somehow the idea of Jerry and a small baby seemed just the slightest bit cock-eyed. For months now, she had been too busy to even think of him except when the odd late night fantasy dragged her out of her exhaustion and her body throbbed with unrequited sexual yearnings. No. She pushed those thoughts away. No more. And then she saw him. He was heading from the direction of the library towards the Cinema-Television complex. Halting in the center of the courtyard, he put his foot up on a planter and looked around. Looking into the past himself.

mM Sophie froze. She felt as if she had been kicked in the stomach. All those memories. All those memories flooding back, overwhelming her. She could barely breathe. As she labored to draw oxygen into her lungs, under her aching heart, Sophie saw Jerry shake his head and move off. Her eyes followed him until he disappeared behind the bulk of the Marcia Lucas building. And then she started to cry. Soon the gauze of her eye patch was soaked and her eye ached. Perhaps the salt will help heal the infection. m 105 M

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Time to skip the library. Time to go home and grieve some more.

mM Sophie found it heard to keep her mind on the road. And the limitation of her taped eye made it worse. But she arrived home unscathed, having scared only a handful of pedestrians. That night the dreams began again. The ones in which Jerry was on her, his lips on her nipples till they shot daggers of desire through her torso and down her thighs, his tongue invading any orifice it could, sucking her clit till she arched in ecstasy, his organ driving into her, thrusting, thrusting till he took her over the edge of orgasm into the white floating world of quivering infinite peace. The ones where she would wake up in a panic, her body screaming out for Jerry’s, only to find the bed beside her cold and empty. The third time she came to, gasping with the intensity of her loss, Jenna was knocking on her door. “Are you ok?” Sophie sighed shakily. “Bad dream.” she called back. “Sorry.”

mM The fifth night in a row that she roused her roommate, Sophie realized she would need to take action. She needed to take back control of her life. Just making it through the days wasn’t working. She needed to settle her psyche at night as well. m 106 M

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Counseling at USC didn’t work. At least not with the woman they placed her with—who focused on her need to have an active social life, an active fantasy life with posters of movie stars on her walls. Sophie didn’t want Leonardo di Caprio or Christian Bale in her dreams. She wanted Jerry. She just didn’t want to wake up each morning to the painful fact he was gone. For good. And the only person at school who seemed to want to date her was Jeremy. And if the choice was Jeremy or no-one her choice, hands-down, was noone.

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Everything I Do Jerry was not looking forward to Thanksgiving so when Gram called to tell him that dinner would be at her house this year, he tried to beg off. “No way, boy-o,” said his grandmother in that voice that brooked no argument. “This family has seen far too little of you since you started school and we want to see you are well and healthy. If not altogether happy.” “Oh, Gram,” Jerry sighed. “I am so over Tiffany. No need for you guys to trouble yourselves.” “Over her, yes. That I believe. But not over Sophie.” Got me. Jerry sighed once more. “But what can I do? I can’t undo what’s happened.” There was a pause. A long, long pause. “Have you even tried to call her? Send her a note?” “Of course not! After what I did to her? Come on, Gram.” There was more silence, then his grandmother concluded the call. “So we will see you here at six o’clock, Jerry. Right?” m 108 M

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Jerry swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.” He would have to go. But he would leave as soon as he could. Being around his family would only bring all those good holiday memories with Sophie back.

mM By Thanksgiving—although Sophie was still having trouble sleeping—it had gotten to the point where exhaustion often took over so she no longer awakened Jenna on a nightly basis. That Tuesday, she had just taken her second trip from her car to the apartment with the last of the stacks of books she had hauled home for her research on her economic term paper that she wanted to get a significant start on over the holiday weekend, when the phone rang. Her heart jerked and her stomach lurched as she recognized a voice from the painful past. Jerry’s grandmother. Mary. “How are you doing, dear?” Sophie was not sure at first if she was going to answer or have to heave. Bit by bit her breathing slowed and her world came back into focus. “I . . . I'm . . . .” “Not too well.” Sophie’s silence spoke volumes. “Well, my dear. Is your mother coming out for Thanksgiving again?” Talk of the commonplace, loosened Sophie’s tongue as well as the band around her heart. “No. Mr. O, George, Mr. Ogilvie”—Mary smiled as Sophie struggled with what to call her step-fatherto-be, “he’s taking her on a cruise of the Adriatic. The Greek islands, the Dalmatian Coast, Istanbul. I’m staying put, working on some papers.” m 109 M

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“And how is your school going, dear?” Jerry's grandmother wanted to know. “Tough.” Sophie sighed. “I took on a bunch of graduate level courses and I’m sort of regretting it now.” She could hear the smile in Gram’s voice on the other end of the line: “Too busy to think too much?” “That was the plan.” “I miss you, you know.” This was a new tack and Sophie’s heart ached again. She was not sure how to respond. “I miss you, too,” she admitted slowly. “Well, my dear, I have a proposition for you. I want you to listen to it and think about it a bit before you respond.” Sophie froze. “Ok?” prompted Mary Ferguson. “Ok,” said Sophie in a low, low voice. What was up now? “I’d like you to come over tomorr—” “No, no, NO!” Sophie was in instant panic mode. “Now, dear, you agreed you would hear me through.” Sophie could hear the steel in the old woman’s voice. She took a deep breath, let her heart settle back to a close-to-normal rate. “I’d like you to come over tomorrow afternoon,” Mary continued. “A long time before anyone else gets here. We’ll have tea. You and I. And talk. Ok?” With some trepidation, with the feeling the little stability she had achieved in the months following Jerry’s defection was going to be pulled out from under her feet, Sophie responded: “Uh-hmm.” “Louder, my dear, these old ears don’t always hear so well.” m 110 M

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“Yes. Yes, I’ll come.” And as Sophie said it, she all of a sudden felt buoyed up by the thought of tea with Mary. “Good, dear. And now, wait a minute, hear me all the way through again before you respond. If you want to stay for dinner, you are more than welcome. Every last one of us Fergusons would love to see you there.” Sophie focused on breathing. Listened to the thudding of her heart and the coursing of her blood drown out Mary’s words. “But if you feel you can’t handle it, you are free to go. Do you understand me?” “Ye-es.” But Sophie could not keep the quiver out of her voice. “Just focus on the tea with me, dear. One thing at a time. Do you hear me?” And suddenly Sophie’s heart was lighter. She was going to see Mary again. And Mary wanted to see her. The world, for some reason, suddenly seemed to be a better place to be. “Two o’clock? “Be there or be square.” Sophie laughed. Mary Ferguson never ceased to delight her.

mM Jerry’s last class before Thanksgiving was his Wednesday afternoon history class. A class which he looked forward to more and more as the relevance of the past to the present was persuasively laid out by Professor Staunton. The only drawback was the teaching assistant who, other than carrying books and papers for Staunton and taking attendance, seemed to have m 111 M

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little to do with the class. But his constant presence irked Jerry for no discernable reason. Until that afternoon. It was a popular class and Jerry was tucked into the middle of a row, having come too late to lay claim to an aisle seat. The TA was taking attendance when the professor stepped into the hall. And then out again. But in that swing of the door, Jerry had caught a glimpse of Sophie. His heart thrummed and his cock leapt to attention. Even if he hadn’t been trapped in his place by the other students, the latter condition would preclude his hurrying out after her. Unless he wanted to display his desire to all present. But there she was. And suddenly the world was a better place. Until that dratted TA halted in his duties to dash out in the hall, dash out and put his hand on Sophie’s shoulder. The jealousy that arose in Jerry shocked him to his core. How could he feel that protective for Sophie when he, Jerry, had abandoned her so many months ago? He gritted his teeth and played it cool, but even seeing Sophie shaking her head no to whatever the TA had asked her did little to assuage the antipathy Jerry felt towards the dark man. Did little to settle the roiling emotions within him. Did little to calm the tumult within his heart.

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Thanksgiving Day, Sophie got up early. It was still dark outside as she plowed into her books, started to lay out her term paper. So by one o’clock, she had her outline done and the books restacked and reordered by chapter. Sophie dressed quickly. Nothing too formal for Mary, especially since she had absolutely no intention of staying. Of seeing Jerry. Of having her heart rent raw yet one more time.

mM When Jerry dragged himself out of bed it was well past noon. He had tossed and turned much of the night, finally giving up at two in the morning to turn on his light and read his photography magazines till dawn. Till dawn when he finally gave into his yawning and drifted back off to sleep thinking of light-meters and f-stops rather than the girl whose heart he had won and lost. And hurt. Unwittingly, yes . . . but hurt nevertheless. Hurt bad. Seeing her the day before had torn open whatever healing of the heart he had achieved since September. Furthermore, Jerry knew he would not be able to conceal this vulnerability from his grandmother. And from the rest of his family. Maybe he could call in sick—not. They would know. They all would know. The gusting rain outside only echoed his feelings. Jerry wished he could just fade into its grey opaqueness, his soul borne away by the wind to join the Lost Boys in their timeless Neverland. The sadness in his soul was attracted more by the miserable November weather than a hot shower so Jerry pulled on some old sweats, shrugged into a m 113 M

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wind cheater, and went out to embrace the lowering skies and bitter drizzle. Walking through the houses above Los Feliz, he grew wetter and wetter. And colder and colder. But the external wretchedness seemed to assuage his internal anguish. At least for a while. Then Jerry began to run, somewhere, anywhere. Whether running to something or away from it, he wasn’t sure—but there was something in the rhythmic pounding of his sopping shoes on pavement that felt healing in an odd sort of way. He ran until his chest heaved and his quads were spasming with the unexpected exercise. When Jerry returned to the apartment he shared with Randy and Shawna, he was shivering and his nose was running. Now he really needed that hot shower. He let the streams of hot water pound into his shoulders and back and legs until the shaking stopped and his knotted muscles relaxed. Time to get ready. It was getting dark and he was due at Gram’s at six. Oh well, it wouldn’t be the first time he was late.

mM Sophie had shown up a little after two. Like many Los Angeles residents, she habitually underestimated how long it would take to get anywhere in the sprawling mega-metropolis. She slipped out of her boots in the entryway and hung her wet rain jacket over the ornate coat stand. “Now I know you're from back east,” smiled Mary. No native-born Angeleno owns a pair of rain boots, nor would think to remove them on entering someone’s house.” m 114 M

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With that, Mary kissed her welcome on both cheeks and then Sophie was in the other woman’s arms and somehow every vestige of self-control slid away and she was crying and crying and crying. Mary just held her and patted her back and offered her Kleenex. When Sophie was all cried out, Mary led her into the big kitchen and sat Sophie at the shiny counter while she made them both tea. “Some of the Lady Grey?” Sophie nodded. “So I dragged you away from your books, did I?” Again Sophie nodded. “But you’ve got three more days of labor ahead of you, so why don’t you just relax and focus on answering an old lady’s nosey questions.” Sophie managed a laugh at this. Mary might be a grandmother but anyone thinking of her as an old lady did so at their own risk. “That’s better, my dear. Sugar? Milk?” “Nothing. Black is fine.” “No lemon?” Sophie shook her head. “Ah, but you certainly need no more bitterness, do you child?” They took their tea down into Mary’s sunroom. Which was anything but that afternoon. Mary looked though the rain to far, far back in her past. “I grew up in weather like this. Months and months of grey and rain. They say the Scots can be a moody folk and it’s no wonder living in the likes of this. Here, in Los Angeles, the rain is a treat. It cleans our streets, settles the dust and provides just enough moisture for the native plants to root and bloom.” “Like those poppies?” Jerry had driven her up into the hills north of Los Angeles just before he left m 115 M

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for Flagstaff to show Sophie the wild poppies covering the hills with their orange blossoms and feathery fronds. Just before he left for Flagstaff. Her throat closed up and unbidden tears filled Sophie’s eyes. Mary reached out, took her hand. “I am so sorry, my dear.” “He did what he thought was best,” choked out Sophie. “He . . . he was always . . . a . . . gentleman.” She looked away and did not see Mary’s eyes narrow in surprise. “So he has not been in touch with you? At all?” Sophie shook her head, no. “Not since. Not since. I saw him once. At the . . . for coffee. I said he couldn’t call me any more, that it was tearing me apart.” Stopping to settle herself, Sophie thought back to that last encounter. The last time they spoke other than that inadvertent meeting in the summer when he told her he was marrying Tiffany. The tears were falling quietly now. “He asked me what made a good relationship . . . .” Mary just looked at the young woman in front of her. The young woman that Jerry had brought into her home and who everyone in the family had fallen for in the days before Jerry’s plight with Tiffany brought their burgeoning bliss to a grinding halt. “And what did you tell him?” Sophie had to think back. What exactly had she told Jerry? But then she realized she would have told him what she would have told anyone else. “Being responsible for your own actions, respecting others, having a sense of who you are, what your place is in this world.” m 116 M

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She sighed. “And for Jerry, he . . . just . . . had to . . . take care of that baby. That was his responsibility, even if he didn’t—” Sophie brought herself up short. She shouldn’t be criticizing Tiffany to Jerry’s grandmother. No matter what she might think of her. It was a few minutes before Mary’s voice cut into Sophie’s thoughts. “Jerry never told you about the baby?” “The baby’s ok, isn’t it?” A sickness gripped her stomach. That would be just too much . . . . Panic-stricken, Sophie looked sharply up, deep into Mary’s eyes. There was something going on in those sharp all-knowing orbs, but what? “The baby’s fine, Sophie,” Mary said gently. And then added: “But it wasn’t Jerry’s.” “What!?”

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Through the Tears and Laughter Sophie didn’t stay for dinner. She was too shaken up by Mary’s revelation even to examine her own feelings—which were hurt, betrayed, abandoned, sick, angry, nauseous—and that was only a beginning. How could he? And yet, somewhere in there an ember of hope flared a little more brightly than before.

mM Jerry was furious with his grandmother for interfering. Furious with the rest of the family for not taking his side against Gram. Resigned at last to no longer being in control of what was left of his relationship with Sophie, he begrudgingly blessed his grandmother for forcing this next step. Forcing him to acknowledge his own pity-party in which he had been wallowing since September. m 118 M

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Forcing him to face up to his responsibilities to his family and to Sophie, and goosing him to act rather than react. Releasing him from the deepfreeze of his own inertia and propelling into making decisions again. Decisions which might completely lay waste to any hope for the future he had once dreamed with Sophie. But decisions which might at last give him the opportunity to build a bridge back to the woman that he loved. That he still desperately loved. Back in his apartment with the few mouthfuls of Thanksgiving turkey calcifying inside his knotted stomach, Jerry couldn’t stop pacing. It was as if the nervous energy from four months of inaction had to be bled off before he could trust himself to make the next move. He loved her, he loved her, he loved her. He did. Everything he had ever wanted in a life was epitomized by Sophie. And everything she had done since Tiffany impinged upon their lives, had been straightforward and uncolored by jealousy or resentment. Could he, Jerry, manage to maintain such a front when going out in pursuit of her, of Sophie, of the woman of his dreams? Towards morning, a hard, cold realization set in. To win Sophie back, Jerry would have to risk everything. He would have to plan and execute a flawless attack under the guise of surrender. To seduce the sexy Sophie back into his arms. Only how? How? How? For in this battle, failure meant far worse than death. It would be the loss of his loved one forever. m 119 M

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mM Monday, Sophie emerged into the corridor of her building to be greeted by a hundred red roses. They felt like a slap in the face, like she could be bought. Her first impulse was to throw them over the railing. Her second reaction was to take them over to St. Vincent’s where the cancer patients would have something fresh and beautiful to enjoy. Without the baggage that came with them for her. And then she started to appreciate them herself. They were fresh and they were beautiful. And they spoke volumes about Jerry and that he thought of her. She caught her breath. Slowed it down. A little late? Maybe. But late for what? But after her conversation with Mary, Sophie accepted that she herself had not moved on. Had not separated in spirit from Jerry despite all the ache of her loss and the long months alone. But at the same time, Sophie did not know if she could ever bring herself to trust him again. Or, for that matter, trust any man

mM Jerry’s one point of connection to Sophie’s day life at USC was his history class. And the direct contact was the TA who he had seen speaking to her in the hall before Thanksgiving. So, biting the bullet and knowing that a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, Jerry decided to introduce himself to the tall man. After m 120 M

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the next history lecture, Jerry hung back and asked the guy for a copy of the reading list which had been given out in the first class. Before Jerry had transferred into the course which at least gave him a good excuse. And excuse it was since he had copied both the list and the class notes from another student early on. Up close, the two men could not be more dissimilar—Jeremy, tall and lanky, wearing glasses which emphasized his scholarly looks, the epitome of an educated Afro-American. Jerry, very white, a shade under average height and with the physique of a man who had hauled lights and cable for most of the previous year. “You’re not a history major, are you?” asked Jeremy as he searched for the right stack of papers in the office he shared with the other teaching assistants. Jerry shook his head. “Cinema.” Which brought Jeremy’s head up. “Why on earth . . . ?” “Well, a friend's a history buff.” Jerry smiled disarmingly. “And this professor is really great. Makes it all come alive.” Jeremy clearly softened when he realized that Jerry shared just a smidgeon of passion for his favorite subject. “Professor Heilig’s the best. You’re lucky you got to take this class. He only does one for the undergrads once in a while. And the last one was four years ago.” Jeremy grinned, thinking back. “When he hooked me.” Jeremy gestured towards the Cinema-Television complex where the noise of the expansion was clearly audible. “But I thought you guys over there

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were all about fantasy. What’s your slogan—Reality Ends Here?” “Yeah,” replied Jerry. “But you can’t mess with reality without understanding it first. And you can’t create fictional characters without learning what makes the real ones tick. And that’s what history is all about, isn’t it?” “Here you go.” Jeremy thrust two pages stapled together at Jerry. “If I were you, I’d read those two there and maybe take a look at some of Churchill’s writings.” “Old Winnie?” It definitely helped that Gram had followed British history for years after she became an American citizen. In fact, the class was filling in some of the gaps of what he had learned at her knee. Jeremy stopped. “Now I am impressed.” “I may be in the Cinema Department but I'm not totally clueless . . . and now that I can see your interest in the subject . . . so much like So . . . .” Jerry hastily halted himself from going there. Took a breath and changed the subject. “Are you going on to teach?” “Hope to. I just got back from a year in Germany as an exchange student but I somehow feel . . . out of sync here, now.” “Things change when you’re gone.” Jerry knew that feeling. The two men parted with the ground well laid to continue their conversation in the future. Jerry was pleased. Not only had he made the first step on the long journey which would hopefully lead him back to Sophie but he also felt he had the starting of a friendship with someone totally outside the m 122 M

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industry. Away from those who always took into consideration that they were talking to a Ferguson.

mM Sophie started to see Jerry around the campus more during December. At the library, in the parking lots and, once, talking to Jeremy in the hall near Professor Heilig’s office. “Who was that?” she asked Jeremy. “Some film student. But he seems to like history, anyway.” Sophie struggled to keep from smiling. “Film students aren’t supposed to like history?” “Well, you know what I mean.” She let the smile blossom. “Maybe I do.”

mM One evening, Jerry grabbed a burger with Jeremy after class and surreptitiously ascertained Sophie’s schedule. Along with the unwelcome information that the tall black had the hots for Sophie himself. Jeremy made it clear that Sophie had rebuffed his every advance and that she seemed to be indifferent to men. A spirited discussion by the men at the table over the root cause of her disinterest had her being jilted winning over her being gay. Jerry took both comfort and guilt from that fact. And as Jeremy and Jerry were walking back to their cars, Jeremy turned to Jerry and asked point blank; “What’s your interest in Sophie?” Jerry widened his eyes but his acting skills in no way approached those of his Aunt Kathryn. m 123 M

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“Come on. I can see the way you look at her. And your interest this evening . . . .” When Jerry didn’t respond, Jeremy went on: “What I’m really curious about is that you are the only person on this campus that I have ever seen our Sophie look at twice. So . . . what’s the story?” Jerry looked away, anywhere but at this tall, black man, this tall, educated, not unattractive black historian who was so clearly a fan of Sophie. He sighed. “We were seeing each other. And then . . . I guess I sorta fucked things up. Didn’t mean to . . . but . . . .” His ability to speak ran down. “Well, she still seems interested in you so you can’t have fucked it up too much.” Jerry’s head whipped around. “No. She couldn’t . . . . She must hate me.” “Jerry!” Jeremy considered the younger man for a moment, and then speaking with the wisdom of experience, went on, “If you continue to ignore her she might come to hate you. But . . . if I were in your shoes, I’d try, try again.” “But I sent her flowers, red roses . . . .” Jerry’s voice tailed off again. “So, send her more. Show her you want her back. Keep on trying until she responds.” He looked Jerry right in the eye. “Unless, of course, you do want to lose her.” Then the two men went their separate ways.

mM As Christmas drew to a close, it seemed to Sophie that she would see Jerry pretty much every day, and often more than once. After the roses, m 124 M

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there had been a bouquet of freesias, her favorite flowers and well out of season. And DVDs of movies they had enjoyed together showed up once or twice a week in her mailbox. Was he stalking her? But physically, he had kept his distance. And she had never taken him for being aggressive or insensitive. In fact, his interest seemed to be just that. Interest. Watching an idol from the sidelines. But it confused her. On one hand she desperately wanted him back and wanted him to make the first move. So she would know that he wanted her and she was not just imagining the interest, setting her heart up to be hurt once more. On the other hand, intellectually, she wanted him to go away so her heart would finally heal.

mM Jerry knew he had to make his move and soon. But he was becoming immobilized by the realization of how much he had to lose. How much Sophie had been and become the center of his life. So he went out of his way to go on watching her. Appreciating her beauty and intelligence from afar. Scared to reach out, scared that she would slap him down and pulverize the fragile kernel of hope that remained at his core.

mM Sophie dreamt that night. Dreamed of the days when she and Jerry first got together. Of the trip to m 125 M

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San Francisco. Of sailing with TJ and Emily. Of their Valentine’s Day tryst. Of love and lust. Of his mouth on hers, of his hands on her breasts, of his hard body pressing her up against the wall, lifting her up, impaling her . . . . The counselor she had seen had recommended masturbation but it wasn’t the same kind of release for women, certainly not for her. So much of a woman’s enjoyment and climax takes place in the head, in the emotional connection with the man she loves. Panting and rubbing, playing with the vibrator that Jerry used with such skill, might arouse her, but it could never replace those hands, those lips, that tongue. The exquisite feeling of danger when she and Jerry had a quickie where someone might walk in on them. The absolute drainedness after Jerry had worked her over and made her come, and come and come. The sensations kept rolling over her and awakening her, wet and hot, to an empty bed. Boy, did she miss that man . . . or was it: man: did she miss that boy? She woke finally towards morning, sweaty and horny and alone. If Jerry wouldn’t do something, she would have to . . . but what?

mM And then it was Christmas. Exams were done. Sophie's dreams continued; just as imperative and just as frustrating to her unfulfilled libido. And she still had no idea of what she could do to bring m 126 M

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Jerry back into her life short of calling him directly. And she was unclear of the result of such a confrontation, whether it would be seen as the gesture of a friend and lover or the selfish invasion of Jerry’s privacy. It was as if she was waiting, waiting for a sign, of what to do, of where to go.

mM Georgia and Mr. Ogilvie came out and spent Christmas with her. As Sophie and her mother created Christmas dinner they laughed over the events of the previous year. When Georgia had fled Mr. Oglivie’s profession of love and inadvertently caused chaos in the then-flourishing relationship Sophie had begun with Jerry. This time, Sophie and her mother were thick as thieves, celebrating the blush of Georgia’s upcoming marriage which was going to be in May on Mr. O's Long Island estate, with Georgia far more confident and relaxed in the knowledge that she was loved unconditionally by her husband-to-be. Which gave her the perspective to be far more sensitive to Sophie’s loss this time around. But, as was the case the year before, it was Mr. Ogilvie—Mr. O—Sophie reminded herself again with a salacious smile, who stepped up to the plate. “Yes, you feel he betrayed you. And even if he didn’t, you were left in the lurch by someone you loved, someone you counted on, your first true love. But Jerry did what he did with the best of intentions given the situation.” Mr. O put his arm around Sophie as they sat on the sofa, a nice fatherly arm which felt so safe that she started to cry. m 127 M

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“And look at it from his point of view. The poor boy is probably terrified that if he showed up, you would cause him grievous bodily harm or, at the very least, kick him out of your life forever.” “But I wouldn’t. Truly,” Sophie whispered in a small voice from the depths of her tears. “Ah. But does he know that? It sounds like looking at you from a distance is the only way he feels he can have you. He's thinking that if he can’t have you in his bed . . . .” Sophie blushed. Mr. O hugged her. “At least he can see you are ok. And pretty and perhaps happy.” “You think so?” “I know so.” “How?” Mr. O smiled. “Because I am a man.” Sophie sat and thought for a few minutes. “So what do I do-o?” Shit she thought, here I go sounding like some stupid sorority sister at school for her M.R.S. Now Georgia spoke up. “It may be up to you, Sophie. Somehow last year, when push came to shove, I got on that plane and went back to Long Island and worked things out with George here.” Georgia and George locked eyes. Then fingers. Then Mr. O continued, “Who are you hurting more by staying apart. You or Jerry?” Sophie had not thought of the conundrum in just those terms. She had to think. “Are you trying to punish him, Sophie? Don’t you think he has been punished enough?” Sophie started to nod in agreement when her mother broke in with one of her more insensitive statements of the visit. “Leave her alone, George. m 128 M

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She really ought to finish the schooling you're paying for before making any life decisions. Her education—” “Oh, come off it, honey. How can my pretty daughter-to-be study when she's miserable?” And Mr. O pulled his wife in and shut her up by planting a great big sloppy kiss on the lips of his wife-to-be. At one time Sophie might have been embarrassed by this display of affection but now she laughed, happy that both her mother and Mr. O had found love in their lives.

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Just Give Yourself to Love Georgia and Mr. O left Los Angeles for Fiji right after Christmas. Their plan was New Year’s first in Fiji and then again in Tahiti by dint of flying back across the International Date Line. Georgia wanted to make up for her lack of New Year’s Eve celebrations over the past two decades in style. But it wasn’t Mr. O’s counsel that resonated with Sophie long after they left, but irritation with her mother’s comment. Like a little girl whose response is to be contrary to whatever her mother mandates, Sophie now was spurred to action by Georgia’s demand she finish her schooling before pursuing a relationship. Sophie’s choice now was to take action. What remained was to determine what that action would be. That she did not know. Yet. So when Ian called her to ask her up to Big Bear for New Year’s Eve, Sophie did not immediately reject the invitation. She paused, and took a deep breath, as Ian asked her again. m 130 M

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Against her will the words, “Will Jerry be there?” popped out of her mouth. And she could not call them back. But Ian answered her question with aplomb. “I’m inviting everybody I want to see. Family and friends. Taking no RSVPs. And I have no idea who will show up. But I like to think of you as a friend, my friend, not a pretty extension of my nephew. A friend I would like to get to know better.”

mM So mid-morning on the last day of the year, Sophie ditched her trepidations and set out through the winter rains to Big Bear. Luckily it was a warm front that was sitting over the Los Angeles basin and she would not have to worry about snow. Sophie brought with her a knapsack with something dressy for dinner and a sleep tee since Ian had told her in no uncertain terms that everybody would be crashing the night at his rambling mountain home. Driving those mountain roads at night was dangerous at the best of times. In the rain with returning revelers it would be much worse.

mM At Ian’s request, Jerry had driven up to Big Bear early that morning. His uncle wanted to speak to him, about what Jerry had little doubt in his mind. And it wasn’t just Ian who was sitting in the kitchen when he walked in. James and Andy were there as well—his uncles had ganged up on him. m 131 M

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“Sit down.” That was Andy, playing the tough guy. Jerry sank into a kitchen chair. And was shortly rewarded with a steaming cup of Irish coffee. Hit the spot and it eased him into accepting the coming lecture. “I suppose Sophie will be here shortly.” The best defense being a good offense. “Oh, yeah.” Andy smiled. “And boy-o, methinks that you have not given enough thought to that girl in recent months.” That stuck Jerry where it hurt. “What do you mean?” He lashed out. “All I do is dream of her, think of her, ache for her . . . .” “And have you called her?” That was James who was sitting on the corner of the kitchen table looking down on his nephew. “I thought you guys had such great communication.” “What the hell do you want, Jerry?” interjected Ian. “What exactly are you looking for in all your aching?” Dismayed, Jerry sank back in his chair. “I want her back. I want things to be the way they were before. I want—” “You want, you want, you want,” broke in Andy. “What about Sophie? What does she want? Or did you even think to ask her?” Jerry just couldn’t find the words. “I . . . I— ahh. Oh, shit. Look guys—” “Uncle guys to you, Jerry, until you can grow up a little.” James stepped in. “If you want her, what are you planning to do? What are you willing to do to get her back?” Jerry didn’t reply so James continued: “Things will never be the way they were before. Didn’t you ever watch that old Barbra Streisand movie? The m 132 M

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past gets a sheen put on it when you’ve moved on into the present. You forget the bad times and yearn to recreate, no to create your fantasy of the good bits. Well guess what, Jerry, it ain’t gonna happen. And the stuff that happens in between? That’s life, Jerry. And if you can’t deal with it, you are living in denial.” “Yup.” Now Ian took up the cause. “Shit happened. It hurt you. And it hurt Sophie—big time. But you can choose to accept what happened, make your peace and create something new. Or you can ignore it, carry it around as baggage for the rest of your life, push Sophie away because she will never see you in the same light again.” “But she’ll hate me . . . .” “Have you asked her?” “No, but—” “But what?” Andy’s voice had a dangerous overtone. The kind Jerry did not want to cross. “But . . . but . . . .” All of what he hadn’t done flashed before Jerry’s eyes. “I sent her flowers.” Pretty weak. “She could have thanked me—” “What?!” His uncles responded in uniform disbelief. Silence reigned. Then Andy went at him again. “You’re afraid, Jerry. And you just have to face that fear, walk through it or it will hang over you all of your life. You’ll just never know what could’ve—” Panicked, Jerry shouted. “What happens if she doesn’t want me?! What happens if she pushes me away, if she—” James cut him off. “Yes, Andy, I think you have it right. Our nephew is nothing more than a yellowlivered coward. Too afraid to take a chance. He has m 133 M

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the chance to win back the love of his life and he pulls up short. Do we even want him in this family any more? Personally I’d choose Sophie over him any day.” Family had always been the most important thing in Jerry’s life. He was a Ferguson after all. This conversation was devastating him. “Jerry, Jerry, Jerry.” This time it was Ian. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone. Leave him to suffer in silence. “The great martyr. Personally I’d prefer a live-in love. But clearly you want to suffer and make damn sure that everyone around you knows it. Make everyone feel bad because Jerry can’t have his bottle. Well, you will well and truly get yourself hooked on the bottle or drugs or something unless you come off your high horse and move on. Be a man!” Exhausted, emotionally flattened, Jerry croaked: “But what can I do?” The tension in the kitchen, which a moment before could be cut with a knife, eased perceptibly. The uncles heaved a collective sigh. A corner had been turned. “Ask her what she wants,” suggested James. “Ask her how she feels,” proposed Ian “Hold her hand,” advised Andy. “You guys were all about touch. Reach out and touch her. Again. Or forever hold your peace.” “I am so scared.” Jerry knew that on some level his life was on the line. The rest of his life. But his uncles moved in and held him, comforted him, gave him that part of family that is greater than the sum of its parts. Then the doorbell rang. m 134 M

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mM Sophie wasn’t sure what to expect when she got to the sprawling cabin set well back in the woods. But she certainly didn’t expect Jerry to open the door. That hope had been firmly relegated to a fantasy realm. But here he was. Speechless they just stared at each other for a moment. And then Jerry’s hand reached out. “Let me take this from you.” He deposited her knapsack on the floor inside the hall behind him. “Hey, Soph.” Her mouth moved but no words came out. Willing him to want her. Willing him to make a move. They remained immobile for minutes. Neither capable of making the first move. Suddenly Sophie heard voices inside the house, asking Jerry who was there. His uncles. She turned to flee. Jerry gasped and then he grabbed her hand. It was a forced movement—she could see his brain telling his hand to reach out. But Sophie figured she could give him the benefit of the doubt. For a moment, at least. Jerry swallowed, his throat suddenly dry and parched. “Come walk with me?” He looked so vulnerable, standing there. So wonderful. Sophie took a deep breath. What should she do. “Ah . . . ah . . . in the rain?” Her voice was shaky. Jerry kept his eyes on hers, and it was if she could see in through them to his very soul. He nodded, unwilling to trust himself to speech. Slowly Sophie backed up, into the rain, pulling Jerry behind her. m 135 M

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He took her hand more firmly in his and they started to walk, oblivious to the slanting showers and heavy mist which, when they entered the trees, turned to random globules of water sliding off the slick tree branches above them. Jerry led Sophie down the well-worn path to where a stream had been dug out into a swimming hole. Together they stood silent, watching the raindrops hit the water, seeing circles spread out from each until they overlapped and overlapped and faded. Sophie gave an inadvertent shiver; the damp was chilling her to the bone and, faced with the most important discussion of her life to date, the wordsmith found herself without words. Jerry, concerned. turned to her. “Are you cold?” And then Sophie smiled and the world started to turn again. “Of course I’m cold, silly. We’re in the mountains, it’s raining and I’m soaked.” For a moment Jerry looked terrified, but Sophie clasped his hand more closely, shook it to consolidate the connection. “But I’m here.” And more quietly. “I’m glad I’m here.” Then the warmth of their persevering passion for each other thawed their frozen bodies, flowing back and forth through the palms of their hands. Jerry dared not speak in case he would start to sob. If he was to lose this woman . . . . And then swiftly, before rational thought could dissipate his daring, Jerry made his move. Pulled Sophie sharply into his arms, drew her in close, close so their bodies were at last reconnected from top to toe. And with his nose, Jerry gently tilted Sophie’s head towards his until their lips nestled together. And nature took over and their tongues crept out to play. m 136 M

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mM On the way back to the house, their sodden clothes steaming from their internal heat, Jerry and Sophie took every possible opportunity to bump into each other, to brush up against the body of the one they loved, that each had missed for so many, many months. “Whatcha thinking?” Jerry put his arm around Sophie from behind, drawing her close, leaning forward to hear her response. “I hope you survive this.” Puzzled now, “What?” “You were wondering if I was cold? At least I have a coat on. Here, you’ve just got a flannel shirt and jeans.” Jerry grinned. “Some things are just a whole lot more important.” Sophie turned to face him. Jerry had not felt happier in over half a year. They started to kiss but then Jerry pulled back. “Sophie.” “Yes.” She looked into his eyes, into his soul and felt that she had come home. He took a deep, deep breath. “What . . . do you want?” Terrified, he waited. The answer was short and oh, so sweet. “You. You. Forever and ever and ever.” Jerry smiled, relaxed just a bit, then asked: “And how do you feel?” This time Sophie took a moment for reflection. “Lucky.” By the time they got back to the house, it was packed with people. With family and friends. And m 137 M

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Jerry led Sophie past all the curious faces to the back bathroom. Started to whistle as he dug out a pile of towels. And then to hum as he went back for her knapsack, for his overnight bag.

mM With the talk outside heating up—indubitably speculation about them, on what had just happened, what would happen next—Jerry assumed it was safe for a little recreation in the shower. Sophie resisted at first but then hormones took over. Her body ached for his and when he slid her sweatshirt off, kissing her all the way up, her nipples shot bolts of ecstasy down to waken places long neglected, forcing her thighs to widen, to accept Jerry’s further kisses and probing tongue as he peeled her wet pants down. Quivering in such exquisite agony that her legs could no longer support her, Jerry gently helped Sophie to slide down in the tub while he tore off his own wet jeans and shirt. His cock was winning its battle against the cold to come to full erection. But he held back his full frontal assault on this wonderful woman to make sure her experience now would be the best he could ever give her. Restrained his rising urges and concentrated on slowly, slowly tonguing her down, driving her crazy, till she arched in rapture, moaned her pleasure. Only diving down to cover her mouth with his own, stifling her shriek of release when Sophie first came. And came and came. How he envied her ability for multiple orgasm. On the other hand, if he had that capability, he would be wrung out before his lover got her second m 138 M

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wind. Much, much better this way. The more he held back, the better the bang in the end. And this morning promised a bang beyond any he had ever had. For he had his Sophie back and he would never, ever allow anything to come between them again.

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Love Is It was Valentine’s Day again. This year Jerry had made reservations at Gladstone’s on Sunset, the scene of their very first date. The food was fabulous and the service impeccable but neither would remember that later. Their eyes were only for each other. Afterwards, they slipped on the boots he had arranged to have waiting at the door and headed down to the beach. It was a cool winter night and the stars shone cold and bright. The moon was starting to rise, all according to plan. When they reached the place where they had danced on the beach a year and a half before—it seemed so long ago that it could have been a two lifetimes in the past. And in fact, there had been two lifetimes and now there was one. Jerry took Sophie’s hand and oblivious to the boots, swept her into his arms and they danced in the moonlight on the wet sand, with the sparking of the wave tops and the twinkling skies above. m 140 M

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When the time was right, they separated. “So you remember this?” Sophie nodded and he could see tears sparkling. “Don’t cry on me now, Soph.” “But this is all so perfect . . . .” Jerry looked at the love of his life, took in her quiet beauty, the intelligence he adored reflected in the liquid brown pools of her eyes, embraced the myriad twists of fate that had brought them to this beach tonight . . . again. And then he withdrew a small velvet box from his pocket. His heart was so full that it was hard to breathe but Jerry spoke the words from his heart. “Sophie Larose, will you marry me?” Sophie’s mouth dropped open and surprise rippled across her face. Jerry dropped to his knee, swallowed, and repeated in a stronger firmer voice. “Sophie, will you marry me. Please.” A smile split Sophie’s face. Amazement spread, and her eyes lit up with excitement as she searched for the right words. She took a deep breath. And as her tears of joy silently overflowed, she replied. “Of course. Oh, Jerry. I love you so.” Then Sophie was in his arms again. And they held on to each other with the desperate desire of people who have loved and lost and have had the incredible luck to have found that special love in their life once more.

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About the Author

mM Erica Leigh Madson moved to Los Angeles to pursue a career in the film business, but stayed for the mountains, the oceans and the desert. She was a bookworm from a very early age, immersing herself in mysteries, science fiction and action adventures. Her first Playboy when she was 11 came as a surprise--the science fiction stories were pretty good but the magazine certainly had some weird ideas about female anatomy and sex. Erica is branching out into a writing career after years of working in the Los Angeles film business in many different capacities. Her books are set against the industry she knows so well and the city where she has lived for the last 20 years. She wants to tell good stories that will appeal to women and the occasional intelligent male. Her other interests include skiing, motorcycles, hiking, baseball and, of course, the film business.

A Ferguson Films Fantasy—The Series

mM Electric Vibes is the first book in a trilogy about Jerry, a rigging electric, and Sophie, a gorgeous young student at USC. It is also the first installment in a series about Jerry Ferguson and his extended family whose members reach into all parts of the Hollywood movie making machine. In the second book of the trilogy, Electric Vibrato, Sophie and Jerry have fallen in love and in lust. They both have grand dreams for a future together but real life gets in the way. Electric Vamp is the final book of the trilogy. Sophie is in her second year of history and economics at USC as Jerry leaves the working world to start his undergrad degree in the school of Cinema-Television. On campus, their passion knows no bounds and they focus on creating a future together.

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