The Numbers Game Page 7

  The doorman buzzed her to tell her that Mr. Jackson was on his way up. She opened the door and Paul came out of the elevator looking beaten, but he came alive the moment he saw her. He felt reborn whenever he was with her. She made him feel young and daring, infused with her energy and youth. They had met in May at an event given by one of his clients at the agency, and they had been attracted to each other immediately. She didn’t mind the fact that he was fourteen years older, which was younger than many men she had dated, or even that he was married. He told her that his marriage had been dead for years, and they just went through the motions for their kids. She had believed him, and didn’t like the fact that he was still more engaged in it than he had led her to believe in the beginning. She felt sorry for him when his seventeen-year-old daughter told him she was pregnant. But she expected him to get out of his marriage as he had said he would. She loved older men, but not married ones. She’d made an exception for him. Their affair had gone on for five months, and she wasn’t going to wait much longer. The role of the other woman in the shadows didn’t suit her. The sex between them was fabulous, but she wasn’t going to stay with him forever if he stayed married, and he knew it. Knowing how she felt about it had been putting tremendous pressure on him to figure things out.

  He dropped his overnight bag in the front hall and put his arms around her, but before she let him kiss her, she asked him the question that had terrified him for months.

  “Did you tell her?” Olivia was an honest woman, and didn’t want to live a lie with him, or anyone. His being married was awkward for her.

  He sighed and kissed her gently on the lips, and then they walked into the living room, with the spectacular views of the park and both rivers. “I didn’t have to. She figured it out when I didn’t go home last night. She asked me point blank, and I admitted there was someone else. I’m moving out. She didn’t want me to stay. We’re going to have to tell the kids something pretty quickly.” But he had no idea where the affair with Olivia was going. She was an express train moving at jet speed, and he wasn’t sure of his place in her world, or what he meant to her. She was still very young, and complained about not being taken seriously. At twenty-seven, she had the force of a woman twice her age and the energy of a girl her own age. She was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to him, and he was hanging on to her for dear life. He felt like a different person when he was with her, and acted like it. She was his fountain of youth.

  “What now?” she asked him.

  “I guess everything moves forward from here. I want you to meet my children,” he said hopefully.

  “At the right time, I will. Do you think she’ll poison them against me?” She was worried about that. She had never dated a married man before, or anyone with kids. Children were not her thing.

  “She’s not that kind of person,” he assured her. “She’s a good woman. We just never should have gotten married. I’m going to rent an apartment this week, someplace where my kids can stay when they visit. It’s complicated unraveling things after eighteen years,” he reminded her.

  “So I’ve noticed,” she said with a knowing look, and with that, she unbuttoned his shirt, and undid his jeans, and a moment later, they were making love in front of the wall of Warhols of her mother. Then they found their way to her bed and made love again. She smiled at him and whispered, “Welcome home.”

  He wanted it to be true, but he felt homeless now. At least he didn’t have to lie anymore about client meetings in the city, and why he came home late every night. He and Olivia could start to share a life together. All he had to do was tell Eileen the truth, that he wasn’t coming back.

  Olivia had brought him back to life. He had known from the beginning that his marriage to Eileen was wrong, but it had been the honorable thing to do at the time. But he had run out of gas somewhere along the way, and he just couldn’t do it anymore. Maybe he could have if he’d never met Olivia. But now he had, and this was where he wanted to be. He wanted to be a better man for her. He still couldn’t believe that she wanted him. She was so young and beautiful, so full of fire and excitement. He felt like he was on a rocket ship heading toward the moon every time he was with her. He wondered sometimes how long it would last. But for the past five months, it had gotten better and better. It had gotten harder and harder to go home to Greenwich, and lead the life he had there. He felt dead when he was with Eileen, and had for years. Everything about their marriage felt wrong to him now that he had Olivia to compare it to. She made him feel brave and young and strong, instead of like a failure who had missed all the right opportunities, in the wrong job, with the wrong wife. Secretly, he had always blamed Eileen, not himself.

  He didn’t know what to tell Eileen about her. How did one explain a woman like Olivia? She was part girl, part woman of mystery, a force of nature, a whirlwind or tornado that had engulfed him and moved him to another place, another world. And now he was about to be free from the life that had been drowning him for years. He loved Eileen, but he couldn’t lead the dreary life he had shared with her anymore. He had to tell her and their children that he had to move on. He knew it was selfish of him, but a woman like Olivia came along once in a lifetime. It was his time now.

  They made dinner together in her kitchen that night out of what was in the fridge, and then climbed back into her bed to watch films that her mother had given her of new releases that weren’t in theaters yet. Olivia lived in a rarefied world. He got dizzy from the altitude at times, but with her, he felt like anything was possible. And now he was here, and at last a free man, or he would be soon. He didn’t have to leave her to go back to Greenwich again. He had felt torn limb from limb for the past five months. At least that was over, and he could concentrate on Olivia now, and spend every night with her.

  They watched two of the movies and fell asleep in each other’s arms. For once, he didn’t have to go anywhere.

  “What are we doing tomorrow?” he mumbled happily before they fell asleep. He didn’t miss his children yet, and he had the day to spend with her since it was Sunday.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m having lunch with my mother. We can do something after that.”

  “Am I coming with you?” he asked. He was fascinated that her mother was Gwen Waters, and dying to meet her. He couldn’t wait to tell his kids, once they knew about Olivia.

  “She doesn’t know about you yet. Now that you’ve moved out, I can tell her.” He nodded, and then they drifted off to sleep. He felt as though he had died and gone to heaven. He snuggled up next to her, knowing he could spend the entire night with her. Olivia felt that way too. She could hardly wait to tell her mother about him now that he was finally on the path to freedom. It took him five months to get there, but Olivia thought it had been worth the wait, or she was sure he would be. He told her he had been dormant for eighteen years and she had brought him back to life. It was a heady feeling for her, to be that important to someone. She had always been with powerful older men before, some of whom had tried to dominate her. In Paul, she sensed a gentle soul, and she was the strong one, bringing him along and infusing life into him. Her only concern had been his wife, but now he had left her, which Olivia took as a sign of strength and the evidence of his love for her. She was certain it was going to work, and together they would be a winning team. What she didn’t see was that he was a mirror, reflecting her own strength back at her. And the fire and passion she sensed in the relationship was her own.

  Chapter 5

  After a leisurely morning of reading the Sunday Times in bed together, Paul made breakfast for them, since Olivia admitted that she didn’t like to cook for anyone. They bathed in her enormous bathtub, and dressed. Paul tried to call his children, but couldn’t reach them. He wasn’t sure how to explain his disappearance. He didn’t know what Eileen had told them, and didn’t want to call her quite so soon to ask. She was probably still in shock from his a
dmitting to her the day before that there was someone else.

  Paul had called a realtor about some listings he found, and was going to see two furnished apartments the realtor had while Olivia had lunch with her mother. He was also going to call several other real estate agents on Monday. He knew he would probably spend most of his nights with Olivia, but he needed a place of his own too, where his children could stay with him if they wanted to spend a night in the city. He had thought about getting a studio at first, but he needed at least three bedrooms for all of them, and it had to be furnished. He wasn’t going to start taking furniture out of the house in Greenwich. It was their home and he didn’t want to disturb it, or Eileen, who would surely want to continue living there. It was a beautiful traditional home and they’d lived there for seven years.

  Olivia was expected at her mother’s for lunch at one o’clock. Paul was going to see the apartments then, and they were going to meet up again at three, and maybe go to a movie, or go back to her place and cuddle up in bed. The weather was brisk and staying home appealed to both of them, now that they had the luxury of time together. Paul kept playing the scene of the day before with Eileen over in his head, wondering how it had happened and come to a head so quickly. Eileen had instigated it, but it was time. He hadn’t had the guts to bring it up, but he couldn’t be torn between two women and two lives any longer. The past five months had been torture. Olivia had given him a reason for being, and the strength to leave Eileen, once she confronted him.

  They left each other like lovers who wouldn’t meet again for years, and Olivia finally climbed into an Uber, and headed to her mother’s apartment at the Dakota on Central Park West. The apartments there were legendary, as she was. Countless famous people lived there. Her apartment was on two levels, with curving staircases, a wood-paneled library that had cathedral ceilings, and antique ladders that moved on a brass rail to allow one to reach all of the books on any shelf. She had a grandiose living room, an oval dining room, and five handsome bedrooms. The art on the walls was by famous French Impressionist painters, and lesser known artists of the same school. She had a state-of-the-art kitchen and a French chef. Gwen Waters had an enviable life and lived in a precious world, with objects that were dear to her, antiques she had collected around the world, and exquisite French fabrics. Most of it was the result of her extraordinary career, and some of it gifts from the men she had married. She had married three times, and Olivia’s father had been her second husband. Tom Page, the famous producer. Her other two husbands had been as famous as he was. She had been a major star for more than thirty years, divorced once, and widowed twice, the first time when her famous British artist husband had committed suicide. All of her husbands had been older than she was, a tendency Olivia had learned from her. Gwen’s stays in Hollywood while filming had only been temporary. She had been famous since her early twenties, and the apartment in the Dakota had been the home that Olivia had grown up in, and she always felt like a child again when she went to visit her mother there.

  Gwen’s career had slowed down noticeably in the past two or three years, and at fifty-six, still strikingly beautiful, she was frustrated not to be seeing better scripts. She hadn’t made a movie in a year, or seen a script she wanted in two years, and she was well aware that her age was responsible for it. Women in their fifties were not highly prized in Hollywood, although she was one of the few exceptions. But she was no longer making two or three fabulous movies a year. She hounded her agent about it constantly, and he assured her that there had been no great movies made recently, and when he had the right part for her, she would see the script immediately. Nothing had been worthy of her lately.

  Gwen was happy as soon as she saw Olivia bound down the stairs to the living room. The two women looked nothing alike, yet both were exceptionally beautiful. Gwen was tall and very slim, with ebony dark hair and enormous brown eyes. She could play any part, was willing to be transformed into characters of any age, and performed the parts convincingly, which had won her the two Academy Awards and seven nominations. She was never morbidly depressed, as some actors were when they didn’t win an Oscar. In her case, there was always next year. Each of her performances was a gem, which won her the praise of the critics and her peers, and audiences loved her. She had a natural kindness which came through whatever part she played, although she did villains well too, and enjoyed them. Olivia’s petite redheaded beauty was a throwback to her paternal grandmother. She collapsed onto one of the comfortable couches, and smiled at her mother.

  “You’re looking very happy today.” Her mother smiled warmly at her. It had never particularly impressed Olivia that she had a famous mother. She was used to it.

  It had annoyed her when her friends at school made a fuss about her mother being a big star. Gwen had picked Olivia up at school every day, like any other mother, when she wasn’t on location. And Olivia had spent school vacations all over the world, visiting her mother on location, or her father until his death when she was seven. She was as discreet as her mother was and had taught her to be, and never talked about the things they did or stars they knew. Her mother’s fame was a fact of life to her, and not something she chose to discuss with outsiders. She had already been a huge star when Olivia was born when Gwen was twenty-nine.

  All of Gwen’s husbands were dead now. There had been other relationships over the years, though none recently. She had been alone for the past eight years, since her last husband died, after seven happy years of marriage. He had been a major film star and died of a brain tumor. Gwen had nursed him until his final hour, and held him in her arms when he died. And now at fifty-six, she had begun to think that the good times were over, in her career and in her personal life.

  Nothing exciting had happened to her since her last movie, which had been recently released and was a box office hit. But for the moment, she had nothing in the works and was tired of reading bad scripts. The time she spent with Olivia was a welcome distraction. The life of an actress at her age was not easy, and the good parts had been thinning out since she turned fifty. Gwen’s mother assured her that there would still be great parts in her future, perhaps fewer but better than ever, but Gwen didn’t quite believe her. As close as she was to Olivia, Gwen was equally so to her own mother.

  “So tell me what’s new with you,” Gwen asked Olivia, as they nibbled tiny crackers with homemade pâté on them, which the cook always made when he knew Olivia was coming. They were having cheese soufflé, her favorite, for lunch.

  “Well.” Olivia hesitated, wondering if now was the best time to tell her mother about Paul. But she was so pleased that he had finally moved out of the house in Greenwich. It had taken him long enough, after telling her how dead the marriage was right from the beginning. “I’ve been seeing someone I like a lot,” she admitted, looking mischievous. She always confided in her mother, and Gwen had suspected for a while that there was a new man in her life, but she didn’t want to ask her, and preferred to wait until Olivia felt ready to tell her on her own.

  “What’s he like?” Gwen asked with interest.

  “Smart, serious, quiet. Older than I am, but not too old. He’s the managing director of an ad agency, and head account executive. He’s very creative. And he has three kids.”

  “Divorced or widowed?” Olivia waited just long enough for her mother to raise a questioning eyebrow. “Please don’t tell me he’s married.” Gwen looked worried.

  “He’s getting divorced. His marriage has been dead for years.”

  “Men who cheat on their wives always say that,” Gwen said wisely. “He’s not living at home with her, is he?” Olivia shook her head confidently, and Gwen was somewhat relieved. “When did he move out, before you started dating him, or after?”

  “After,” Olivia responded honestly. “Actually, he moved out yesterday. He’s getting an apartment in the city, and a divorce.”

  “How old are his children
?”

  “He has a seventeen-year-old daughter, and eleven-year-old twin boys.”

  “They’re young. Have you met them?”

  “Not yet. He wants me to meet them soon, but I want to let the dust settle a bit first.”

  “How long have you known him?” Gwen questioned her.

  “Five months. He’s wonderful, Mama, you’ll love him.”

  “I hope so, but I have to admit, I’m not in love with the idea of you as a home-wrecker. That’s a lot of responsibility to take on, if he left his wife for you. And his kids won’t thank you for it, especially the daughter.”

  “He says he would have left her anyway, sooner or later. He’s wanted to for years, but didn’t want to upset the children.”

  “Breaking up a family isn’t a nice thing to do, if you caused him to do it. It was done to me. It doesn’t make anyone a bigger, better person, and his children will be very hard on you if they blame you for the divorce. How old is he?”

  “Forty-one, almost forty-two.”

  “What does his wife do?”

  “She’s just a Connecticut housewife. I think he’s been bored with her for years.” Olivia looked slightly supercilious as she said it, with the advantage of youth.

  “If he cheated on her, which he obviously has, he might do it to you one day. That’s something to think about.” Gwen was not sold on the idea of this man who had left his wife for Olivia, and had cheated on her for five months until then.