| Subject: Chapter 280 - Part 1 (16 and above) |
Author:
KatherineG.
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Date Posted: Monday, April 02, 07:15:41am
In reply to:
KatherineG.
's message, "Dreams in the Dark continued (273>)" on Monday, March 05, 07:03:06am
Extra warning: I'm rating this 16 and above for some very mild curse words.
Dreams in the Dark (280/?)
by Katherine Gilbert
It was almost Sunday--would be in about two hours--the day of the week she looked forward to the most. Once she finally reached it, she would be free. The studio and its demands would be behind her for awhile.
This was a state Nikita longed to live in, at least to a certain extent--tired to her very soul of always having to be on guard. But a life out of the limelight wouldn't aid her, her enemies far too used to working in the dark. She would have to endure the constant worries of being on the lot, instead.
This truth reigned, as the actress sat on her couch, more properly than she would have liked--her time still not her own. Even on this night she was usually allowed to enjoy in peace, she was under scrutiny; she smiled into Hedda's inquiring gaze. And she definitely wouldn't be free, until she could convince this woman of her innocence.
The battle had started a couple of hours ago, the younger woman arriving home only to discover a message the columnist had left--Annie frowning, as she passed it along. There had barely been the time to put away her purse, before the doorbell rang. And then she had discovered just how very public her home could be.
The gossip maven's arrival had been perfectly planned--for someone wanting a scoop, at least. Had Nikita anything to hide, Hedda undoubtedly would have discovered it--her smiling presence on the doorstep quickly followed by a thorough inspection of the house by herself and a photographer. The actress could still feel the man's presence, as he sat, bored and frustrated, on the other side of the room--already having dismissed the offers of Annie and Carl to join them in the kitchen for coffee, while Hedda and her prey spoke. Fortunately, all the man or the columnist had found were an orderly home and the early signs of transformation the soon-to-be nursery showed; she would have sighed in relief, had she not been so on guard. Now, if only she understood why this woman was here, she might have had some chance of seeing this evening end relatively uneventfully.
This was still her prayer, but, with the gossip queen, it was never a certain one. All that any of her victims could really do was wait quietly for her fatal bite.
The woman's words continued to circle the actress, shark-like, waiting for any opening. But Michael's wife only had half a mind on her inquisitor's questions, the rest pondering just what was happening here. As far as she had seen, the day on the lot had been like any other--the usual measure of tedium and pain joined by an ever-growing fear. Thus far, she was still alive, still working, and still had her child. But her youth had taught her a caution no amount of lectures could ever have matched; her look moved quietly, pleasantly in. She just couldn't believe that she would ever be allowed to enjoy her life in peace.
All her dreams focused on such a vision--on a quiet existence with her loving Michael beside her; the fear rose further. But the more she sat through evenings like this, the more certain she was that this was never going to happen at all.
The columnist's very presence attested to this, made it impossible to rest easily; Nikita continued her side of a supposedly polite conversation, while she thought back through the evening thus far--trying to understand where her current disasters were leading her. While rumor was an ever-present danger, there had been little she had heard about herself, up to now--Madeline's easiest way of destroying her little used. None of her friends had alerted her to any gossip about herself and Shears--always the most likely avenue of attack, however ludicrous the thought might be--and they were usually fairly diligent in their warnings. Besides, she hadn't so much had *seen* the actor outside of their time on the lot, at least not since that dreadful train trip months ago; she did her best not to think about it, or her morning sickness then--looking green, at the moment, not at all beneficial. A little of her bemusement showed in her eyes. But just because there had been no warnings didn't mean that calamity wouldn't come.
She was reminding herself of this, as Hedda's speeches and questions alternated, leaving her very much fearing where any of this would lead. Just the fact that the woman had arrived with a photographer, as though some amazing scoop awaited which she would have to capture on film, was worrying; the actress let the confusion win in her gaze, not wanting to empower the columnist with her fear. But she would have no real idea of just how bad her situation was, until she finally saw whatever the woman planned to write.
The woman herself was growing a bit irritated, none of her promised juicy scandal yet materializing. She had received an anonymous tip earlier this evening, one which said that Andrew Shears would be arriving for his usual tryst with Kitty tonight, would be boldly coming to her home. She had spent the earlier hours trying to confirm that this had ever happened, without much luck. Thus far, it seemed as though the newcomer would have little time for such adventures, most of his schedule thoroughly filled by studio activities. The only time he was seen in public with anyone, it was with Susan Sash--their dates clearly staged. It had all made the columnist wonder, more than once, whether the man were even interested in women. Especially given some of the gossip she had heard from his earlier days in New York, she might well find herself writing a "Confirmed Bachelor" story about him someday soon.
This lack of evidence had already made her suspicious of the tip, but she was not one to turn down such information altogether. Still, along with her data on the actor, she had chatted with a few of Kitty and Michael's neighbors. They had only pointed out the comings-and-goings of her helpers, as well as occasional, brief visits by someone who was more likely to be Helmut Volker than anyone else; it took a lot to keep the woman from laughing. As though that visitor were capable of causing any sort of scandal with a *woman*.
She kept this thought to herself, various deals with Volker thus far working to her advantage. While she could certainly turn on him if she so desired, she saw no particular gain in such betrayal just yet; her smile grew more secretive. Especially when there were so many more juicy prospects the man might yet bring.
She dismissed her hopes, the banker's various promises, a moment later, focusing instead on the woman in front of her. But part of her mind was wondering why she was even here. She kept up the inane chatter all the while, much better protection to rise up from at a moment's notice, to use as cover for the one, sniper question which would bring down her prey; she had yet to decide whether the technique would be of use here, but it was habit by now. There really had been little to report of Kitty, of late--the absence of her husband making her a rather dull story, despite her expectant state. Perhaps, once the man returned, there would be something interesting again--but she doubted it. A happy marriage tended to have exactly the opposite effect.
She let out a little sigh, not at all ashamed of letting her victim see how bored she was; should she turn on the actress, it would take her more by surprise, would make it all the harder for her to hide any deeper truths. Still, unless this little tip did prove to have some sort of value, there was little use the actress could give her, at the moment. She would just have to wait and see when Kitty delivered her child. It was only with an exceptionally "premature" birth that the woman might have some sort of value for her column again.
She was growing a little irritated, had been here two hours and had found absolutely *nothing* out of place. She had made a point of not calling too early, of giving the actress and her servants almost no time to tidy up any possible messes. Still, all she had discovered was a clean, well-kept house, Michael's clothes still in the closet--little to no sign anywhere that another man had ever been present. And, the more she watched the young actress, the less likely she thought it. From the very beginning, Kitty had clearly been ga-ga for Samuelle. It was all quite dull. True, young love sold movie tickets--but it did nothing to aid her in the least.
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