The Magic of the Heart

Chapter 18

Mom use to say, "Careful of what you ask for, you might get it." I have. I have my job back, my family back, my free time back. But I don't have my concentration back. Sometimes going to work is almost painful, especially when a certain singer is the topic of conversation. M. J. Carson was nominated for a Golden Globe for her performance in "Dining Alone." She didn’t win but her name is everywhere. Business is booming. Work is not the same.

I spend three days in California while Maggie is in New York and hate every minute. I keep asking people to repeat what they are saying. They eagerly repeat whatever I ask, even when I hear them. Maybe I am the only one who notices these small things, like acting as if early Alzheimer has set in-sitting through a meeting and not noticing it is over, or asking a question after I have been given the answer. At the office Ed comments that I seem "a little distracted." All the excitement of the last few months, he guesses. Probably my heart is dying and no one has noticed. Sometimes, I begin to sound like my mother. That really scares me! I miss Maggie!

A month has gone by and she has only called twice. The tour schedule was altered. Some of the concerts scheduled for October have been pulled into February to allow Maggie more time to prepare for her new movie. I sit at home and argue with myself. She is busy and either traveling or sleeping. A call doesn't take that long. Derek and Paul have called more often. But we are in different time zones and different schedules. She works at night and sleeps during the day. She can call when she gets up. I'm home.

Finally she calls and we end up arguing. She wants me to come spend some time with her on the tour. I say no. She hangs up. Great communication!

She calls back and yells, "What is so fucking important in your life that you can't give up a week to be with me?" The sarcasm hurts. "What do you want me to do? Beg?"

I try to explain, "Mags, I’m really busy right now. I don’t want to leave Cady…." I am petrified.

"Fuck you," she says and slams the phone down. Surely a woman with a college education can be more creative. Two weeks later she phones and apologizes for not calling sooner. There is all kind of noise in the background and we have a hard time talking. It is her last night in the United States before leaving for Australia and the international part of her tour. "Hey, sweetie, how are things going?"

"We’re all fine. Derek and the kids were here for a few days last week. How’s the tour going?" I keep trying to put emotional distance between us. Why am I doing this?

"What can I say? Cleveland was cold and damp. Denver was cold, but dry. Seattle is just wet. Hold on." I hear a knock on her hotel room door and she answers. "Hey, Babe, my breakfast is here." I look at my clock and it is nearly one on the East Coast. Ten o’clock in California. "I need to run. One more concert then I can go home for a couple of days with Derek and the kids. Miss you. Love you." The conversation is short and impersonal. Then she is gone. I want to call her but I am afraid. Of what, I ask. I have no answer. Flowers arrive the next day.

The first of April Paul calls and invites me to join them at the Academy Awards. I have forgotten. How could I forget? I suddenly remember asking Maggie the same question. She won a People’s Choice Award for her music. She has several Grammy nominations. Her name is everywhere. I want to say no, but I am shameless in my desire to be with Maggie. I agree. Everything is arranged for me to fly out to California a couple of days early. Time drags. I do fifty mental sit-ups in less than one minute. And I don't exercise! My impatience is grating and those around me suffer. Mom threatens to shoot me if I look at the clock one more time. It is the hardest thing I do-spend the evening without checking my watch or asking for the time.

Two days before I leave, Mom puts Cady to bed early, opens a bottle of wine and offers me a glass. I say, "No, thank you."

"This isn't a request. This is an order. And drink it quickly."

I try to protest, but she is undeterred. Rather than argue, I give in. A second glass is poured. I start to protest, but she just stands over me and says, "Drink it." Mindlessly, I obey.

A third glass is poured and I am beginning to tingle. I pick up the glass and start to gulp it. Mom stops me and says, "Now sip this one. Enjoy it. This is a good wine. You shouldn't gulp it."

I'm not sure what is going on. My brain is sloshing in alcohol and I am having difficulty following this scene. Mom sits down and pours herself a glass and takes a small sip and smiles. "Susan, I know you have very firm standards on how to conduct your life. But, sometimes you are so rigid and unbending." I stare at this pixie, wondering what she is talking about. "Since Maggie left, you have been irritated and irritating. You have been short with me and with Cady. I don't know what you are like at work, but if your behavior at home is any indication, I would fire you." Mom's words sting. I try to protest, but she stops me.

"If you love Maggie, don't let your pride get in the way. If you don't love her, get your ass in gear and stop acting like an orphaned puppy. Don't try to drink the whole glass at once. Enjoy each sip. The joy is not in the wine but in the drinking of the wine. Of enjoying the aroma. The way it looks in the glass. The feel of the first sip. Live each day, my dear. The joy is not in just being alive but in living life."

I feel the tears begin. I don't want to cry.

Mom continues, "Since you met Maggie, I have seen you laugh more...and cry more. You've been more unpredictable and more enjoyable. You will never learn to drink wine by studying books." With that she gets up and walks out of the house. Astounded, I take one more sip of wine and can no longer fight the tears. Her words are sharp slaps to my psyche. Shutting off the lights, I go to bed.

Derek greets me at the airport. He is alone. I try not to hide my disappointment, but fail. Derek says, "Maggie won't be in until tonight. She's been traveling for at least 12 hours and has quite a few more to go." Am I that transparent to everyone?

"Does she know I am coming?" I hate myself for asking.

He answers, "Yes, she suggested I call you, but only two seconds before I was going to. We all want you here."

Later we return to the airport, transportation courtesy of the studio. The studio has also arranged for extensive coverage of M. J. Carson’s return. Cameras and reporters line the gate area. People exiting the plane look dazed at the glaring lights and cameras and wonder who on their plane is the recipient of all this attention. Finally, nearly the last of the passengers to deplane, she is in the terminal. Derek and the kids walk up and greet her. Dressed in designer jeans and a navy blazer, she reminds me of the day I met her. She laughs and my heart melts. Time seems to stop as I watch them. There are so many people, lights, noises. Yet I can easily find her wonderful face, hear her amazing voice. A fear grips me. I turn around and start to walk away. Paul matches my stride as I exit the gate area.

"A bit overwhelming, isn't it? Let’s wait in the limo. It may be 15 or 20 minutes or more before they get through the crowd."

"I understand how important it is too promote the movie, but the movie is doing well and it’s too late to influence the academy balloting. Why couldn’t Maggie have been allowed to leave the plane quietly?"

"There are some studio people here who want to make sure she is in the news. Her movie is doing quite well. It was in the top 10 box-office gates for two months after its release. Some of the largest ticket sales are right before and after the awards ceremony. They’re going to keep Maggie and the movie in front of the public as long as they can."

I nod and allow myself to be led away. My talent for mundane conversation seems to be permanently incapacitated. In the limo, Paul pours me a drink. "Susan, if I am out of line, let me know. Has something happened?"

I want to cry, or scream, or run away. Or all three. I give conflicting head signals. He just waits. Finally he continues, "I haven't known you long, but I really like you. If something is wrong, I am a good listener."

I believe him. I’m just not very good at talking about personal things.

"Has something happened between you and Maggie?" I notice him rolling up the window between us and the driver. He checks the intercom and makes sure it is off.

"I feel out of place." Saying the words out loud is frightening. "When Maggie was in Orlando, I felt like I was losing control over my life. My life focused on where Maggie was going, what she was doing, what we were going to do. And now that she isn't around, I feel just as lost."

Paul leans back, a smile beginning to form at the corner of his lips. "She definitely has that ability to disrupt people's lives. Most of the time, she is genuinely unaware she is. Unfortunately, most of us have allowed her to do so. I'm sorry. You must feel overwhelmed."

"It's more than that. I don't know where I fit into her life. We have only talked three times since she went on tour. Twice it ended in arguments."

"Where does she fit into your life, Susan? You seem to be very committed to your job. Very few people ever get where you are in the entertainment industry. Not many, especially women, are financial power brokers. And you are good."

These words seem strange. I am not sure who he is talking about. My job is ordinary, nothing special.

Paul keeps talking, not noticing my quiet, or ignoring it, "I admire your talent, your intelligence, your business shrewdness. Ed is very lucky to have you working with him. And he knows it. You are making that company profitable and keeping your clients coming back. You can tell someone ‘no’ and have them thank you. Make them feel like you are doing them a favor by not spending money. The word in California is you are tough, fair, and whatever you are involved in is successful. Not bad for an Easterner. You also have a child and a mother who occupy a large part of your time. You had a full life before Maggie came into it. I can see how she disrupted it. But is there room for her in it?"

Paul surprises me. Words run around like Keystone Cops. I couldn't put two together to make any sense. They just seem to run into each other and collapse. By the time I have finally formulated a sentence, the door is opening and two young children are jumping into the car, followed quickly by Maggie and Derek. Maggie sits next to me and puts her arm around me.

"Home, James. I am tired."

Derek picks up the phone and orders the driver to leave quickly. Cameras and reporters surround the car, trying for one last photo or one more interview. We see them, but we are protected from their prying eyes.

Maggie pulls me closer and whispers, "God, I've missed you." Her kiss leaves no doubt of her sincerity. Home. That word echoes inside my head. Home. I pull her close and soon she is asleep on my shoulder. I enjoy the quiet hour it takes to get back to their house. Derek and Paul each grab one sleeping child. Household staff remove luggage from the trunk and the limo leaves. A groggy Maggie hangs onto me and leads me to her room. Maggie's clothes are off by the time she reaches the bed. Sleep quickly follows. I pull out the nightshirt and put away the new sleepwear I bought for this trip. We will have plenty of time, I remind myself.

Maggie woke up confused. She couldn't remember what day it was or what hotel she was in. A familiar scent finally aroused her from her dream-filled sleep. Opening her eyes, she realized she was in her own bed. The scent meant Susan was somewhere around. But, not in bed. As she looked at the clock, she was amazed it was almost noon. Showered and dressed, she went looking for Susan.

The blonde woman was asleep, sitting in a large chair in the sunroom. Her long bare legs hung over the arm of the chair. A book rested in her lap. Her head buried in the back of the chair, she looked so vulnerable and innocent. Maggie was overwhelmed. Gently caressing the golden hair, she struggled with these intense emotions, amazed at how much she loved Susan. A startled Susan dropped her book and nearly knocked Maggie over as she stood up.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." Laughter interrupted further conversation.

"I've missed you, sweetheart. You looked so wonderful sitting here. I didn't want to wake you. But I missed you so much I needed to touch you. Guess I'm not very good at leaving you alone."

Seeing the joy in Maggie's face, the businesswoman could only say, "Good." Hugs led to kisses as they made their way back to Maggie's room. Each time they made love seemed more intense. Susan wasn't sure how it could be, she just knew it was. It was dark outside when they finally lay quietly and began to talk.

"I've missed you. Sometimes, at night, in my hotel room, I would be unable to sleep. I would remember what you felt like, smelled like, tasted like." A grin graced the singer’s face. "I would try to recall a conversation or an image of you. And I would replay it over and over. Finally, I would feel as if you were really there. Then I would fall asleep. Reality is so much better." Maggie took her lover's hand and began kissing each finger. "I want to kiss every inch of you. And then I want to do it all over again. I want to create bunches of new memories."

"I figured by now you would have been bored with me. After all, there must be thousands of willing women throwing themselves at you."

"That's true," she answered non-chalantly, kissing the inside of Susan's arm.

"You can be less agreeable," Susan responded, pulling her arm away.

"I want to be very agreeable. I want to make love with you until neither one of us can walk. We will have to stay in bed for at least another day." A lewd smile lit up her face.

"I don't think so," Susan replied. "Besides, we have to get dressed up and go out to a big dinner tomorrow. So, at least one of us needs to be able to walk fairly well tomorrow. Especially if you have to get up and give an acceptance speech."

Maggie groaned. Sitting up she sighed. "That would be nice, but the competition is tough. And I am this upstart newcomer. Remember? I’m happy to be in their company. And I’m pleased with all the recognition. Maybe one day."

"If you don't think you are going to win, why did you come back?"

"One, my studio insisted. Second, and most important, I wanted to get laid."

Susan sat up and stared, unable to determine if Maggie was kidding.

"Stop looking so horrified. Only by a certain someone." Maggie began to crawl towards Susan, forcing her to lay back down on the bed. As she leaned over her, she continued, "Didn't you think about us in bed, naked, making love? How about my kissing your neck?" She leaned down and gently nibbled on the side of Susan's neck. "Or about my hand sliding up and down your thigh?" Susan lost her ability to listen to anything Maggie said. She felt the kisses, the caresses, the warmth. Her senses were drenched in Maggie's touches. A wetness seeped out around Maggie's hand and Susan felt herself letting go of any reserve and joining Maggie in this familiar dance.

At 9 p. m., Maggie and Susan came downstairs for dinner. Paul and Derek were sitting in the family room watching an old black and white movie. Derek broke the silence, "Well, Maggie, that wasn't nice of you to keep our guest in bed all day. You could at least let her get up and have bread and water."

"Susan, why don't we leave these children to play. I am sure you must be hungry." Paul took Susan's arm and made a great show of escorting Susan out of the room.

"Wait!" Maggie cried. "I'm hungry, too."

"When I figured where you and Susan were, I decided you had enough to eat. This young woman, however, is probably starved. Knowing how insatiable you are, I am surprised she can stand."

"Wait!" Maggie tried to protest. "We were just talking."

"Looking at the rather red color on our guest's face, I would think the conversation quite interesting."

Susan was unaccustomed to this type of teasing. Sex had never been a public topic of conversation. She meekly followed Paul into the kitchen. Maggie came running up and joined the couple in front of the refrigerator.

"Where is the cook?" Maggie asked.

"This is her day off and we let the rest of the staff go early. Since you were so tired, we didn't want to disturb your rest."

Maggie heard the teasing and felt at home. She hugged Paul and said, "Good thing you are a man or I would ravish you."

"I'm sure you would. Good thing you are a woman or I would have to challenge you to a duel."

Conversation gradually changed to discussion about the long flight and plans for the next few days.

"I don't have to leave until Sunday. We had planned this break in our schedule after the nominations were announced. I want one day to recuperate."

"In that case, we will take Susan away so you can sleep." Grinning, Paul exited.

"I'm sorry if I am keeping you from resting."

A large bite of sandwich threatens to exit from Maggie's mouth. She holds up a hand and tries to chew as quickly as possible. With some food heading downward, she begins, "No, it's okay. I mean I enjoyed being with you today. I mean...I mean, being with you is very relaxing, no matter what we are doing. Don't you dare go away."

Putting on my best Southern accent, I answer, "Why, thank you. You are most charming and gallant for saying such nice things about me."

Maggie nearly chokes. She runs to the sink, coughing out chunks of meat and bread. Regaining her composure, she asks, "Do you suppose you could whisper sweet nothings to me in that charming voice while we make mad, passionate love? That would be so exciting." Maggie leans against me, rubbing her hips against mine. No one else is in the kitchen, but I can feel a blush beginning at my toes and racing up to my forehead. It travels so fast I await a sonic boom to announce it has arrived. Maggie has gotten a second wind. We go back to bed and resume our love making, this time with a slower tempo.

It is my turn to enjoy kissing Maggie's body. Every time she reaches to pull me up, I pull away and continue to kiss her stomach, her firm thighs, her golden, slender legs. Her moans become louder and her breathing more labored. A hunger fills me. I want to devour this woman. Her body responds easily to my every touch. Aroused, I feel control going. I want her. My desire is consuming. She is losing control, calling out my name, pulling me closer. Her orgasm is so powerful I feel myself coming. The sheer power of the moment is overwhelming. I don't want to stop. I want to make love again and again. Maggie is soft and vulnerable beneath me and clings tightly. It is only as I relax from my own climax that I feel the shaking and hear the crying. Suddenly I am ashamed. I have hurt her.

"Maggie, oh Maggie, I am sorry." I try to pull away, but she continues to hold tight.

"Susan, don't move. Please, just listen." Efforts to look at Maggie are futile. She refuses to release the tight hold. Her voice is tenuous, childlike, "I'm scared. You were making love to me and all of a sudden I couldn't control my feelings. It scared the shit out of me. I wanted you to make love to me. I wanted to feel all those things, yet I wanted to run away at the same time. And then...everything became so intense, I couldn't control what I felt. I love you so much and I’m afraid you won't love me that way. Please just hold me."

The words stun me. We lay wrapped in each other arms, not speaking for a long time. Finally, I notice Maggie's breathing has changed. She is asleep. I pull the covers up over us and try to sleep. Questions keep attacking me and answers claim the periphery of my consciousness and avoid coming close. One question keeps coming back: what will she say in the morning?

Chapter 19

I doze on and off so I am very aware when Maggie is awake. She speaks first. "Good morning, gorgeous. I am not sure what you did last night, but I slept soundly. You could make a fortune putting lonely lesbians to sleep." Maggie stretches and moans. "God, I needed some sleep." She leans over and kisses me. "Do you suppose we could arrange a replay sometime soon-after this awards thing is over?"

I numbly nod and wonder if she remembers the conversation or were they words again spoken in passion and gone the next day? Sensing my distance, Maggie puts her arms around me and puts her head on my shoulder. "This may sound trite, but it is true. I have never experienced whatever happened last night. I don't understand. It felt wonderful and scary. Susan, give me some time. I meant everything I said. I love you." She slowly lifts her head and looks at me. I can't stop the tears. I nod yes and pull her close. The spell is broken when the phone rings. We are being summoned to breakfast.

Maggie is very attentive and caring most of the day. After breakfast we sit outside for awhile and watch her kids play. A nagging question finally leaps from my mouth, "Maggie, how did you get pregnant?

The surprised look on her face quickly changes to laughter as Maggie answers, "The only fashioned way." It is my turn to be embarrassed. "The Turkey Baster Technique." She breaks into a full body laugh as I turn red. "You are priceless. God, I love you. Are you sorry you asked?" I am not sure how to answer. She pulls me onto her lap. "One of Derek’s fraternity brothers is a fertility expert and one of the few good friends he is still close to. When we decided we wanted to have kids, Derek talked to him and arranged for us to go. I assure you it was a lot more expensive than a turkey baster but less traumatic and more effective."

"I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked."

"Sweetheart, you can ask anything you want. I’m afraid neither one of us was, uh, interested in pursuing your technique." Maggie’s words hit me like a blast furnace and I felt the heat move quickly through my body. "You are so damn cute when you blush." She kisses me and a different kind of heat consumes me.

"Perhaps we should go inside," I whisper into the delicate auricle next to my lips. Feeling Maggie tremble is reward enough. I stand up and grab her hand.

"You two not going to stay out and enjoy the sun?" Paul asks from his seat on the other side of the pool. "Guess not." He laughs and we leave.

As we dress for dinner I feel a change. Sandy comes by and M.J. returns. I feel unnecessary. Sandy says hello but pulls Maggie aside for a brief conversation. She leaves without saying good-bye. I return to my room to finish dressing. Paul's knock interrupts the jumbled thoughts.

"You look stunning. Come on, let me escort you downstairs before someone else steals you away. Don't want to be late."

I realize how often he has become a buffer for me. "Paul, are you really this nice or does Maggie pay you to take care of her girlfriends."

His laugh is hearty. "First, I would never work for Maggie. I may represent her legally, but I do not work for her. I would be bald. And you know how vain we gay men are about our looks. Second, you are the only girlfriend Maggie has had in the almost five years I have known her. From what Derek says, you are the only one she has brought home. That makes you very, very special in this household. Third, I do not pimp. Believe it or not, I just want to know you better. You and I live in worlds very different than Maggie and Derek. I hope you will be my friend."

Such a gracious plea cannot be refused. During dinner, Paul and I often engage in private conversations. Maggie and Derek occasionally interrupt to ask what we are talking about. About the third time we try to discuss various business ventures with them, they stop asking. Hollywood gossips and both well-known and lesser-known stars stop by to offer greetings and move on. Derek and Maggie handle these mindless chats easily while we seem to be in another world. I enjoy Paul and realize what a sharp business mind he has. Later, at the awards ceremony the focus changes to the stage. Good thing. I’m in awe at all the people sitting around us. Finally it is time to announce Best Supporting Actress. Maggie holds my hand as the names are announced.

"And the winner is..." Dustin Hoffman opens the envelope and smiles, "Margaret Carson-Baxter for Dining Alone."

My hand feels broken. Maggie sits there stunned. Derek pulls her up into a hug and pushes her towards the stage. Her co-stars, Susan Sarandon and Ben Affleck, quickly stand and hug her. Hands reach out to congratulate the newcomer’s good fortune as she makes her way to the stage. I’m in awe.

The statue in hand, M. J. stumbles for words. "I didn't expect this. I really didn't. I didn't even write an acceptance speech. Oh, I hope my agent doesn't hear that. I promised I would." People laugh. "I want to thank so many people." I knew she would be able to remember names. Individuals are named in rapid order. "And, most of all I would like to thank my best friend who has always believed in me, even when I didn't, my husband Derek Jones. This one is for you, Bubba." Laughter and applause follow her off the stage.

Paul leans over and explains the nickname, "When Maggie first met Paul, she didn't think very highly of football players and called him Bubba. Not a nice nickname. He thought all musicians were flaky and named Millicent or Earth Mother. So they used to call each other Bubba and Millie."

Derek leaves to join Maggie backstage and we promise to meet at the end of the awards. The remainder of the evening is a blur. Cameras and reporters follow wherever we go. A round of parties awaits us. Everywhere Maggie is expected to answer questions and be interviewed. An entourage of studio, press, and well-wishers follow. Feeling like groupies, Paul and I hang around until 2 a.m. and decide we have had enough. We catch a cab and leave the limo for Derek and Maggie. They’re next stop is the Governor’s Party.

"How do you handle this?" I ask.

"I love Derek. I like leading a low profile life. Derek is very determined and very persuasive. The hardest part was dealing with his paranoia about his career. We have really had to work through some painful times. But through it all, I never stopped loving him. Times like tonight, I either don't go or leave early. This is work for them. It may seem like a party to us, but out here, this is work. Besides, I trust him."

It is 9 a.m. before they arrive home. Maggie is still clutching her Oscar. I feel very out of place. Ed has called twice. Sandy arrives at 7 a. m. Maggie's agent arrives ten minutes later. By eight, the house is full of people and the phone rings incessantly.

Maggie's arrival creates pandemonium. She has truly become a star. I stand at the edge of the crowd and watch. And wonder. Would it ever be possible to have a long term relationship with this woman? I remember my conversation with Paul and question how I can balance my life and hers, especially now that she has won the Academy Award. The impact of her winning finally sinks in. I want to go back to Florida. To my house in Winter Park.

Maggie works her way to where I am standing. "Can you believe it? I won. I still don't. I even had to do an interview with Katie Couric this morning. I’m in shock. I don't believe this." She kisses my cheek and moves on, still clutching her statue.

I look for Paul and try to find out what is going on. He is not encouraging. Apparently, the studio has arranged a press conference to announce Maggie's next picture, to be made in Florida. "She is supposed to give some interviews and there’s a party tonight. I am afraid the next few days will be more of the same. Do you want to run away?"

"Would anyone notice if I did?"

"Yes."

I hesitate. My return ticket is for day after tomorrow. I can last two more days.

That evening I almost change my mind. The party the studio is holding has lots of media in attendance, including one female reporter from Orlando who is still angry from the last interview with Maggie. I avoid her as much as I can, but she finally corners me in the women's restroom.

"Hi, my name is Gina Perry. I believe you came here with M. J. Carson?" Trying to avoid the outstretched hand, I move around her and try to head back out the door. "Wait, I just wanted to talk to you. She's quite an attractive woman, isn't she? By the way, you didn't give me your name."

"Excuse me, but I would like to get out the door."

"Look, I just thought that since we were both from Orlando we would just chat and let all those Californians hug and schmooze. You are the woman in Orlando she has been visiting, aren't you?"

An army of love-bugs is marching through my stomach with the same disastrous effect. I turn and walk into a stall, more frightened of bladder problems than Gina Perry. She doesn't go away. She is still standing there when I come out.

"This can be just between us girls, but is she good in bed? I’ve heard lots of stories."

"Please excuse me." I try to leave but Perry grabs my arms and pushes me against one of the stalls.

"Listen, Carson may think she is a big star, but no one brushes me off. Do you understand? Now, if you help me, I won't mention your name. If you don't cooperate, well, I hope you don't have any secrets." Her smile is vicious. I just want to get out of there.

My struggles are ended by the entry of Sandy into the restroom. "Oh, there you are. I've been looking for you." Maggie’s assistant comes up and takes my arm. "You will excuse us, won't you? Say, you look familiar. Have we met?" She looks sincere and puts her hand out.

Gina, unsure, shakes Sandy's hand. "Yes, a few months ago, I met you in Orlando. Gina Perry."

"Of course, with Channel 7 in Orlando. How nice to see you again. Have you had a chance to say hello to M. J.? Please, let me get Susan back to her friends and I will make sure you get to talk with M. J. Your station probably would like to run an interview." With that, I am escorted out and find Paul waiting for me. Sandy takes Ms. Perry over to the crowd around Maggie, knowing any interviewing will be brief and safe.

When she comes back, I express my appreciation. "I saw that viper," Sandy begins, "follow you into the bathroom. I am just sorry I didn't get there sooner. Are you okay? What did she want?"

"I'm fine, but she wants to know about my relationship with Maggie. She seems set on outing Maggie. I can't believe it. The story around Central Florida is that she is closeted herself."

"I was afraid of that. I’m not sure how she got here but she is trouble."

Paul interrupts, "Should we get her uninvited tonight?"

"No, but I will make sure M. J. isn't alone and we will get her out of here early. Why don't I take Susan home, if you are ready to go." I nod. Turning to Paul, she continues, "and then you and Derek follow in about thirty minutes with Maggie."

Sandy quickly and quietly leads me out to her car. We travel in silence, but Sandy's earlier behavior bothers me. I want to know if she is angry with me.

She doesn't answer at first. Her hesitating triggers fear I have done something wrong. Sandy answers, "No, Susan. You haven't done anything."

"Why haven’t you talked to me since I’ve been here. I thought we were friends."

"We are. But you are also my boss' girlfriend. There are some things Maggie is very clear about and you are one of them."

"I don't understand."

"Never mind. I am sorry if I’ve hurt your feelings. I wouldn't want to do that for anything. Let's just start over and change the subject."

This conversation is confusing and not very satisfying. I remain quiet until we are back at Derek and Maggie's house. "What do you mean about Maggie and me? What has she said?"

"It's nothing. Forget it. Please."

I'm torn. I want to respect Sandy's request and Maggie's privacy. But I don't feel good about this conversation.

Forty minutes later, Paul, Derek, and Maggie arrive. Having changed clothes, I am sitting in the billiards room watching Sandy, in floor length evening dress, shoot pool. Conversation has covered lots of topics, none very personal. Sandy keeps offering to teach me to play pool. I finally agree. It is while she is showing me how to make a shot that Maggie walks in.

"What the fuck is going on?" she yells. "What the hell do you think you are doing?" She staggers around the table and glares at the two of us. Sandy backs away from me, puts her cue down and begins to leave.

"I thought I was rescuing your girlfriend from Gina Perry. I was just showing her how to play pool while we waited for you. I don't need this. I am out of here."

Maggie crosses the room to stop her, but is halted by Derek who has also entered the room. "Maggie, cool it. You said you would behave. Now cool it."

"Cool it, when my assistant is making time with my girlfriend behind my back." Maggie is getting angrier.

"Look, Mags, I am not doing anything with your girlfriend except taking care of your interests. If you can't figure that out, screw it and screw you."

"You're fired."

"Too late. I quit. You'll have my resignation in the morning. And I won't have to go back on that damn tour." Exit Sandy!

"Sandy, wait..." Paul, coming in behind Derek, is following the angry assistant.

"You've blown it, Mags. I think she really means it this time," Derek warns.

"I don't care. I don't need her." Maggie turns and glares at me and continues, "I don't need anybody." And she leaves.

Derek and I stand there quietly for what seems an eternity. I can't swallow the tears any longer. "I think I want to leave as soon as possible."

"I'm sorry about this. Won't you wait? Maggie blows up and later is sorry. She's probably tired and had too much to drink tonight. Please, give her some time to cool down."

I am tired of hurting. I am tired of trying. "I’m going upstairs to pack. If you can arrange for me to get to the airport, I'll change my flight plans myself." He walks up to me and tries to put his arms around me. I pull away. "I've got to go."

"Susan..." I pause at the door, my hand on the knob. I can't look back at him. "Susan, I will make the arrangements and we’ll get you to the airport as soon as you are ready."

Troubled dreams kept Maggie from sleeping. By 10 a.m., she decided to get up and apologize to Susan. Only Paul could be found in the house. Coming into his study, she asked, "Where is everyone? Where’s Susan?"

Looking up from his work, Paul answered, "Here is Sandy's letter of resignation. Derek took the kids for a ride this morning. Susan left on a 7:30 flight to Orlando."

"She what? She couldn't have." Doubting his words, she went running through the house. A few minutes later she returned to Paul's study. "Why? How could she? She knew I only had a couple of days here. How could she?"

Taking off his glasses, Paul wondered how he had let Derek persuade him into handling this tornado. "Maggie, do you ever think about how your behavior effects other people? I know we have all been guilty of giving into you."

"Giving in. What are you talking about? I'm the one who does the giving in. I give, give, give. Well, I’m fucking tired of it."

"This may surprise you but there are some people in your life who are not takers. Sandy is one."

"She'll change her mind. She always does."

"I don't think so. She told me she is calling an agent today and putting her place on the market. She's going back East someplace to go to school."

"She can't do that. She has to finish this tour. She has a contract."

"No, Maggie, she doesn't. You have been so busy with your personal life, you never signed her contract extension. She doesn't even have to give notice. Besides, if she is going back to school, she doesn't need you as a reference."

"I don't believe it. What about Susan?"

"After your tirade last night, she asked us to take her to the airport and get her on the earliest possible flight. Derek tried to get her to stay. But after your performance...well, I think she was not persuadable."

Deflated, she sat in the nearest chair. "I don't believe it. How could she leave me? How could she?"

"I think your words were 'I don't need anybody.' Well, Susan is gone and Maggie, she was really hurt. Sandy is gone and she is not coming back."

"Sure, she is. Call her and offer her a raise. Here let me have the contract. I’ll sign it and increase her fucking salary." The dark-haired woman looked around for something to write with. "She’ll come back. Then we can call Susan. I’ll fly to Orlando today and apologize."

"Maggie, you have interviews and appointments you agreed to. You have no free time left until your plane leaves to rejoin the tour. You really screwed up this time."

"What the hell are you talking about?" The woman roared before reality attacked. "I can't believe she left. She's just like everyone else." Tears rushed out and a deep emptiness filled her. Paul stayed at his desk and allowed Maggie to feel her pain. It was time.

Chapter 20

There is no real Winter in Florida. There are two, or maybe three, weeks of bone-chilling, damp cold. Even a few days of freezing weather. The rest of the time we have either an extended Fall or long, early Spring. Summer begins, often in April. By May, the days are hot and humid. And remain that way until November, when Fall/Spring begins. The result is a certain ennui in Florida residents that allows procrastination. There is always tomorrow. Very little inclement weather to force us to get it done today. Very little threatens our life or lifestyle. Only the occasional hurricane or tornado reminds us of our own mortality.

Coming back from California, I postpone dealing with my feelings. My life is filled with any activity that occupies time and does not require serious thought. First, I move my family back to Winter Park. Mom and Cady howl in protest, but we agree to a compromise. We spend weekends at the other house near Sanford and enjoy the swimming pool, but live in Winter Park during the week. Clothes, many of Cady's toys, but very little furniture get moved. I buy a new bed. Two men Maggie hired keep the Groveland place in order. On weekends, one cooks all our meals and takes care of anything we need. The other does maintenance and yard work, as well as keep the pool clean. Mom and Cady want to stay until the last possible moment Sunday before driving back to Winter Park. They enjoy the freedom of the house, the attention of the household staff, and the luxury of being cared for. I am ready to leave an hour after I arrive. Maggie fills every inch of the Groveland house and there is nowhere I can hide. Unfortunately, her presence pervades the house in Winter Park, too. It is not any safer.

Next, I return to a schedule. Every day I leave for work and return home at the same time. Ed agrees I will not travel out of town more than ten days a month. We groom others to travel and handle the more routine out-of-town clients. With futile persistence, I seek ways to return to my orderly life.

Three weeks after my return, the phone rings at 3 a. m. I panic thinking something terrible has happened to my sister and her family. It is Maggie calling from Poland. A rowdy party in the background makes conversation difficult. She has a sold out performance. I congratulate her. The longer she talks the more awake, and angry, I become. She asks me to join her in Italy for a romantic week touring Europe. I say no. She demands to know why not. "My boss, my family, and my job need me," I tell her. "You don't."

"Ow, that hurts."

I can't believe I said it, but I won't apologize. After all, Maggie hasn't.

"Listen, Susan. I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"It's three in the morning, Mags. I’m really tired and I need to get some sleep." If I talk much longer she will pull me back into her life. I can't.

"I'm sorry. I forgot about the time change. I am really serious about you coming over. I...I miss you. Hey, quiet down. I'm sorry, I didn't hear you."

"I've got to go," I whisper again into the phone and quickly hang up.

Fuck her, Maggie muttered as she slammed the phone down. Who the hell is she? Hanging up on me.

"Hey, boss, what's up? Why aren't you partying with us?" Maggie's new assistant downed another shot of Polish vodka. "This stuff is good. I wonder if we can take a case back."

"Sure. Arrange it." Maggie walked off, looking for a quiet place. Her life was coming unglued. Sandy had taken care of so many things for her. She often anticipated Maggie's needs. The new person was good but was not Sandy. Staring at the wall, the star realized how important her assistant had been in her life. And now Susan had hung up on her. Since the tour started Susan had not called once. When Maggie called Susan was barely courteous. Needing a quiet place, she returned to her room, trying to lock out the loneliness and the fear growing inside her. Opening a bottle of scotch, she downed three drinks quickly.

I can hang up on Maggie but that doesn't make her go away. Three of her current releases are played with alarming regularity. I've started listening to classical music. At the office, she is the frequent topic of conversation. I hide in my office as much as I can. Paul calls at least once a week. He is really a nice man, but he too is a reminder of Maggie.

By the time I can get through a day without thinking about her, she again calls. This time I am out-of-town. Mom and Cady talk to her and I get the details when I get home. Mom insists I return the call. I put it off, hoping the urge, and the need, will go away. It doesn't. Reluctantly I dial.

Maggie poured herself another drink. God, she wanted Susan. Why the fuck didn't she call? Looking around the room she knew there were a half-dozen women in this room she could have sex with. Willing, easy women. No questions asked. Why, then, did she still want Susan?

"Did you say something? Want something, M. J.?" An attractive, short, red-head slipped onto her lap, leaving no doubt what she was offering. M. J. was not interested. Probably too much alcohol, she muttered. She barely heard the phone ringing over the noise. Blair, her new assistant, handed the phone to her.

Surprised, Maggie tried to get rid of the woman on her lap. "Susan, hey, wait a minute." Moving the phone aside, she whispered, "Cut it out. Leave me alone, damn it." By the time she returned to the phone, Susan had hung up. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Stumbling over to the bar, she poured another drink, and then another. She was well into getting drunk when the red-head began to nibble on her neck. Why not? she thought. Pulling the woman close, the singer began kissing and caressing her.

"Rhonda, my name is Rhonda."

"What?" Maggie muttered.

"My name is Rhonda. You called me Susan."

The angry star stood up, dropping the red-head on the floor. "Get out. All of you get out!"

"What's the matter boss?" Alarmed by the shouting, Maggie's assistant rushed up.

"Get everyone out of here. Now." Maggie slammed the door, leaving the group stunned. The next day began with the frustrated woman finishing off the bottle of bourbon and going back to bed. At two, the phone ringing roused her enough to reach for it. "Susan?"

"Afraid not. Hi, honey. Sorry. Has Susan called? Are you okay? You sound funny."

The disappointment still strong, Maggie answered, "Hi, Derek. I'm okay. Long night. I was just getting up. We leave for New York tonight. I'm getting tired of traveling. How are you? How's Paul? The kids?"

"That's part of the reason I’m calling. We thought we’d meet you in New York and spend some time together. How does that sound?"

An alcohol-fog blurred much of the conversation. Maggie tried to focus, but was losing the battle. "What? I'm sorry."

"Mags, what's going on?" A dark doubt filled Derek.

"I told you I'm tired. I don't have Sandy. I screwed up, Derek." She brushed away a tear before continuing, "And, Susan hung up on me yesterday. This has been one shitty week." Tears fought to be free..

"I'm sorry. Listen, we'll be at the airport when you arrive in New York. What can I do?"

"I don't know. Why won't she talk to me?" Realizing how tentative her sanity was, she changed the topic long enough to talk to the kids. Later, her head pounding, she packed and headed for the airport.

As Derek, Paul, and the kids greeted their missing family member as cameras and microphones recorded every moment. For once, she wanted to get as far away from them as possible.

"Who the hell called the press?" Maggie yelled as she crawled into the car.

"Hey, Mags, calm down," Paul ordered. "You are scaring the kids?"

"Bug off. They are not your kids."

"They are mine. Don't ever talk to Paul like that again. Do you understand?" Derek's hands tightly gripped the steering wheel as if this one act could control his own anger.

After the kids were settled into their beds and Maggie asleep in her room, Derek tried to apologize for his wife's behavior. "Paul, I think Maggie is drinking again." Putting his head into his hands, he could no longer hold back the tears. "She's been my best friend, my family for so long. I can't stand the thought of losing her."

"Why will you lose her?"

Derek's voice was filled with sadness when he answered. "Maggie really started drinking before Beth was born but stopped before she became pregnant with Beth. Not long after Beth's birth she started again. It got to the point I couldn't stand to be around her. Most of it occurred when she was on the road, but the drying out at home was hell. She was so irresponsible, and she could be mean. I finally told her I was moving out and taking Beth. Not long after that she changed. I haven't seen her take more than one or two drinks since, well, until recently."

"What if she is drinking?"

"I don't know, but I won't tolerate it around the kids."

The next morning Maggie was cheerful and rested. Tension was thick, but no one wanted to change it.

"Mags, do you want to talk about Susan?"

Her answer was as abrupt as the question, "No!" Smiling, she changed the topic, "What have you two been up to?" Seeing the look on their faces frightened her.

"Maggie," Derek began hesitantly, "I've been approached to speak at National Coming Out Day in Los Angeles. I said no, but I may want to at some time. I’m not the only gay man in the NFL, but we’re all too afraid. Maybe I can help to open the door."

"What about your career?" Maggie's own fears drove her questions more than her concern about Derek's future.

"Mags, you know we talked about some day coming out. There is never a perfect time. It’s more a matter of our choosing the right time before we’re forced to deal with someone else outing us."

The years of hiding were a part of her. She wasn't sure she would know how to not be afraid. Derek was right. Too many threats had barely been avoided, but at what price. Things were changing too fast. She felt Derek moving away, not needing her. He and Paul were making long term plans. Susan was never far from her thoughts. She wanted to turn the clock back a year, to before the time she had met Susan, before Sandy had left.

"Have you heard from Sandy?"

Reluctantly, Paul answered. "I talked to her two weeks ago. Mags, that woman worked for you for seven years. Was she just another body on the payroll?"

"Hell, no!" the singer announced. "You know how…" her emotions stopped any further speech.

"In case you’re interested," her best friend offered, "Sandy’s started grad school."

"She did? Where?" Glad to be discussing something less emotional, she added, "I guess she was serious about wanting to do something different. I wish I had listened. Where is she?"

"She attends the University of Central Florida. They have an excellent film school and communications department."

Feeling threatened, Maggie asked, "Central Florida? Isn't that in Orlando?" She didn't need an answer. "Bitch! The two of them. Behind my back."

"Maggie, nothing is happening behind your back."

"How do you know? Sandy has been interested in Susan since she first met her." Standing up, Maggie paced the room, swearing as she moved back and forth. "You don't know."

"Yes, Maggie we do. We talk to Susan at least once a week. We also spent Labor Day weekend with her and her family."

"I can't believe this. I thought you were on my side."

"This is not about sides," Paul interrupted. "This is about friendship. She is a friend. Our friend and your friend."

Rage filled her voice, "Friend? Well, screw you. She's not my friend." Any attempts Derek made to respond were halted by Paul who whispered, "Let her talk."

"I've made numerous attempts to talk to her, at least six or seven times, and in the last six months she has only called once. Once. I've repeatedly tried to get her to join me for a short vacation-anywhere in the world. She keeps saying no. She's too busy. The first chance I get away from my tour, I invite her to join us. She leaves without even saying good-bye. What do you want me to do? Bow down and kiss her feet. I need a drink." Storming to the bar, she downed two quick shots before continuing, "In the last five years, I have been sexually involved with one woman. One! Ms Better than Thou Hettinger! And I was saving myself for this. Fuck that." She poured another drink.

His jaw sore from clinching, Derek resisted saying something he knew he later would regret. "If you are planning on getting drunk, we’re going to bed. I told you once before I won't tolerate your drunk behavior around me, or around the kids. So, I hope this is a momentary lapse. By the way, you owe Paul an apology."

Putting the shot glass down, Maggie battled with her love for Derek and the kids and her need for a drink. "Derek, I can't believe you’ve taken sides."

"I haven't. I told you a long time ago that Susan was a nice woman and wouldn't just follow you around blindly. I’m not condoning her behavior. The two of you need to sit down and talk. Paul, however, has been your friend and doesn't deserve this."

"Derek!"

"Maggie, I love you. You have been my best friend for more years than I can count. But I will not accept your drunkenness or rudeness, not anymore. Don't force me to choose."

Memories of childhood flooded in. She heard her father's voice calling her an ungrateful bitch because she wouldn't let him touch her. Many nights she sat home alone waiting for her drunk father to return. She needed a drink. If she could get to her room, she had a bottle in her luggage.

"What have I done? I tried to do everything she asked. I rearranged schedules, turned down interviews and jobs. What more could I do?"

"How many times did you tell her you love her? How many times did you ask her what she wanted to do? How many times did you call her in the middle of the day and just say you were thinking about her? You and I are so used to having things our way. Paul and Susan are not people you buy."

"How many times did she call me? How many times did she include me in her plans? How many times did I walkout on her?" Maggie felt control slipping away. "I tried Derek. But Susan always wanted more." Feeling her emotions drowning her, she stopped. "Enough. I'm going to bed. Paul, I am sorry. You have been a friend."

"Maggie, believe it or not Susan still loves you. She deserves to be treated better. And so do I."

"Thanks for the advice," angrily she answered. Reaching her room, she found the bottle and took a long swallow. The liquor going down was warm and relaxing. She began to feel better. Only a couple of sips, she reminded herself, to help me sleep.

The next morning Derek found Maggie sprawled across her bed, the empty bottle beside her. He closed the door angrily. "Paul, get the kids and take them downstairs. I'll meet you there in about 15 minutes. Wait for me. Do not bring the kids back up! Understand?"

"What's up?"

"Maggie's drunk. We're leaving as soon as we can. Go ahead, go."

Five minutes later Derek returned to Maggie's room. The earlier door slamming had disturbed her drunken sleep but not enough to awaken her. "Maggie, wake up. Wake up!" Derek resorted to shaking. "Damn it, wake up."

"Huh? What? Oh, Derek. What's the matter?"

"Where did you get this?" he asked holding up the empty bottle. "Wake up." He pulled her to sitting position.

"Okay. Okay. I'm awake. What's on fire?"

"I am. Paul, the kids, and I are leaving today. Do you understand? I do not want you around us unless you are sober. Do you understand? Do you?"

"I'm sober. I only had one drink."

"Do you understand?" Derek felt the anger rising. He needed to leave quickly. "Good-bye, Maggie. Our stuff will be gone by the time you get back from rehearsal."

"No, please, wait. Honest, I only had one drink. Please don't leave. Please!" Maggie begged.

"I will not let you hurt any more people, Maggie."

"This is Paul's idea, isn't it? He's trying to get you to leave me."

The rage was visible in his face, his clenched fists and cold silence. Maggie ignored the signs and continued, "I can't believe you are doing this, allowing him to..."

"Stop. Don't go there. He has been our friend and a parent to our children."

"Derek, I didn't mean..." Further words were drowned in tears.

"No, Maggie. Sober up or stay away." With that, Derek left. Maggie ran to the door, but, by the time she got it open, Derek had entered the elevator and the door was closing. "Please, wait. Please, don't leave me. Please." The troubled star collapsed at the elevator door feeling totally alone.

Chapter 21

The rehearsal went badly. Maggie was irritable with the band, the technical crew, with everyone. The hole inside her gnawed and grew. Drinking numbed the pain, at least for awhile.

The concert was raw energy. She had forgotten how it felt. The power. The control. Three hours after the concert started, her assistant led her down to the dressing room and out to breakfast. As they exited the theater, a young man ran up to Maggie and attempted to kiss her. Her escorts quickly subdued the eager fan but not before Maggie reached over and kissed him.

Feeling restless and wanting something to distract her, she bought a large, black Harley-Davidson to drive around town. Sometimes she would take turns down one-way roads to avoid the media constantly following her. If she was late getting to the concert, she didn't care. She loved the freedom she felt riding the bike.

The band had three more sold-out concerts in the city and Maggie was followed any time she left the hotel. Drinking kept an edge off the day and made the time tolerable. The routine was always the same. The singer would finish a bottle of "sipping whiskey" before the end of the evening and then ride her motorcycle around town until three or four in morning. Sometimes she stopped at a bar in the village. The last night, as she headed back to the hotel, she was stopped for driving under the influence, but was given a warning because the police officer had been to an earlier concert and managed to get an autograph and a kiss. The officer was an attractive woman, Maggie remembered later. The band left that day to finish their U.S. tour.

In October, six concerts were scheduled in the South. Nashville, Memphis, New Orleans, Miami, Orlando, and then Atlanta. Maggie was looking forward to returning to Atlanta. It was the Orlando concert she feared the most.

As with every concert, she donated a large block of tickets to the local AIDS groups as a fund-raiser and arranged seating up front. Maggie insisted stairs be placed at the front of the stage so she could come down and meet some of the people. The security people, concerned about her safety, tried to form a buffer around her. She insisted she be allowed to meet the fans and dispel some of the fear and ignorance associated with people living with AIDS. Walking around in the audience, she would find someone to sing to. The audience loved it.

The night of the Orlando performance Maggie was edgier than usual. She downed a shot of whiskey as her hair stylist finished her hair. "Girlfriend, it is none of my business, but you sure have been inhaling a lot of that lately."

"Cool it, Johnny."

"Just expressing concern. I hear there’s a lot of money people out front." The hair dresser warmed to his favorite task-gossip. They had this huge dinner before the concert and brought a lot of those rich queens over in limos. Honey, you should see the gowns. And not all of them are on queens, mind you. There are some hot looking women out there, too. Want me to scout one out for you? I have excellent taste in women."

"You probably have better luck with women than I do." Maggie laughed at the idea. "But tonight, I'll pass. I'm exhausted." Seeing the disappointment on his face, she added, "But maybe you can get some phone numbers for tomorrow." Johnny smiled, pleased at being able to help his boss. "And don't forget the party at the hotel after the concert. Lots of food."

The concert started on time. Maggie was energized. She took a swig out of the bottle sitting off-stage and ran out. During the first set, she welcomed the local AIDS group and asked the Executive Director to come up on stage. Speaking strongly about the need to end AIDS, Maggie drew applause. "AIDS is not about being gay, being black, white, young old. It is about being sick and wanting to live." The audience applauded loudly. Holding the Executive Director’s hand, she sang one of her new songs, a promise of hope in a dark world. As she finished, the singer reached back near the edge of the band. The single yellow rose was given to the blushing man as she ended her song. Again, the audience was wild in their excitement. Right before the young man left the stage, she hugged him and whispered, "Thank you so much for your courage."

Fighting back tears, the local AIDS leader responded, "No, thank you for giving us hope." He left the stage and then was escorted back to his seat. Two more songs and the first half of the performance ended with the band Reckless playing for several minutes before breaking. At intermission, she began to relax.

The last set was a slower pace, a combination of love songs and new music, including two songs Maggie had completed during the tour. In spite of being hoarse and tired, this was her favorite part of the show.

Going to the edge of the stage she sat on the top step and began her hit single, "Deep Inside of Me." The lights were dimmed and the words floated out hauntingly. A pain rose inside her every time she sang it. An ache deep within every cell of her body, reminding her of Susan and the emptiness in her life. Those who heard her described the music as haunting and driven. For the singer, it was more the feeling of rubbing raw the wound that wouldn’t heal.

At the beginning of the song, she walked down the stairs to find someone to sing to. Generally, it was an older male, but sometimes she would choose a woman, much to the delight of some of her fans. On the aisle in the fourth row, a surprise awaited her. Susan. Maggie stumbled over the words unable to discern fantasy and reality. Fearing she was hallucinating, she leaned close and whispered, "Susan?"

"Yes," came the awkward reply. The familiar voice filled her with longing.

Taking her lover’s hand, Maggie gently pulled her up to the stage. Susan tried to pull back, but the star’s whispered plea tore at her, "Please?" It was the uncertainty that decided. Maggie was asking. She stood up and followed her. As the audience saw the singer leading a golden haired woman up to the top of the steps, they yelled, whistled, and applauded. For the first time in months, a light shone in the dark-haired woman’s eyes. Her heart was filled with love and desire so strong it stunned her. She knew she couldn’t lose this woman again.

Nodding to the band, she led her friend to the edge of the stage and sang to her. Knees touching, they both sat on the stairs as Maggie looked into beautiful golden eyes. Months of loneliness and hunger pored out. Those watching were aware of something special happening. The music ended and seconds passed before the crowd responded. The audience was wild, demanding an encore. Maggie hesitated. She looked into eyes that had filled her dreams, questioning. A gentle nod from the woman next to her and she agreed, reluctant to let go of Susan's hand, fearing she would awake and this would all be just another empty dream. Moving the microphone to insure privacy, she asked, "Will you wait up here on the stage for me? Please? Please?"

Falling into the magic and the music, Susan agreed. Only Maggie filled the vacuum in her life. Without this vibrant, passionate woman, her life had returned to the calm, prosaic existence she had wanted. And now hated. Fighting tears, she listened as the only woman she could love sang to her.

Holding to Susan with one hand, she lifted the microphone with the other and hummed the opening chords. Standing close and staring into those deep pools she was swept again with the passion and emotion. Her music oozed sexuality. For once her words reflected the emotion filling her.

Susan felt herself falling headlong into the whirlwind. The singer's large hand came up, gently touching the side of the familiar face. Those glorious hands, Susan thought as she leaned into the touch. The familiar words tugged at her.

By the end of the song, the audience had been wrapped in a cocoon of sex and promise. They were insatiable. The entertainer wanted only to be with the golden woman standing next to her. After the second encore, she failed to return to the stage, instead leading Susan down to her dressing room.

"What are you doing here? How did...I have so many questions. Oh, God, I'm just glad to see you." Maggie wished she hadn't had so much to drink. "Let me shower and change clothes. Have breakfast with me." Putting a finger up to Susan's lips, she quickly continued, "Wait. Don't say anything until I get out of the shower." Maggie disappeared. Knocking on the door, a young woman entered, staring at Susan.

"Hi, I am Blair, M. J. 's assistant. May I help you?"

Feeling awkward, Susan answered, "I'm Susan Hettinger. I am..." What was she? she wondered.

Before she could answer, Blair responded, "Are you the Susan in Orlando? Wow, I've wanted to meet you."

Unsure of what Blair had heard, the businesswoman shook the younger woman's hand.

"I can’t believe I finally get to meet you. I can certainly understand why M. J. blew her cool for you. She talks about you all the time." Hesitating, she continued, "She really misses you. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Forget it, Blair. We are off for a very private meal." Not waiting for an answer, she kissed the woman she loved and felt the heat of the touch. "God, I’ve missed you. Have dinner with me?"

Pushing back, the blonde stared at the form-fitting jeans and bright red t-shirt. She looks gaunt, tired, but great, the businesswoman thought. Her feelings again frightened her. "Maggie, I can't. I came hear with a group of people from the AIDS fund-raiser. They are expecting me to have breakfast with them. I can't just walk out on them."

"Please, Susan, I am begging. Tell them I will take you back to the hotel, or to your house. Or wherever you want to go. Even better, invite them to join us. I am having breakfast catered. We can get more food. Blair, call and get it arranged. Whatever it costs." She turned back to her friend, struggling for a lifeline, "Please, Susan."

Maggie's pleas hammered at her protective veneer. Feeling her resistance faltering, she tried to refuse. The star was already out the door, walking toward the group waiting at the edge of the stage. Her appearance stopped conversation as she walked down the stairs, Susan and Blair in her wake.

"Hi, I’m M. J. Carson." The singer put out her hand greeting each person. The Carson charm worked. "Susan has graciously agreed to join me for breakfast and I would like you to join us. Will you, please?" As the group discussed the offer, Maggie noticed Sandy standing near the back. She stopped talking suddenly to look at Susan. No, she thought, there is nothing going on between them. There can't be.

Sandy walked forward and stretched out her hand. Maggie hugged her friend. "Damn, it’s good to see you. How is school? I miss you. I'm sorry I didn't listen when you talked about going back. I’m really sorry for my behavior."

Sandy smelled the alcohol. "Hi, M. J. Things are fine. How about you?"

A spokesperson for the group interrupted to eagerly accept Maggie's offer. After they received instructions to her hotel, the group left the arena. Susan Hettinger had gained new prominence in the eyes of the group. They were ecstatic to be spending time in the company of the well-known star.

"Maggie, wait...."

Susan's words were cut off by Sandy, "I'll see you both at the hotel, then." Turning quickly she walked out with the other invited guests.

Taking her lover's hand, Maggie walked back to her dressing room. Grabbing her leather jacket and two helmets she headed out the stage entrance. "Guess what I have?" she said, pointing with pride to the motorcycle. "Come on, let me ride you around before we go to the hotel."

"Mags, I can’t ride that in this outfit." The businesswoman tried to hide the smile as she thought of sitting on the bike in her evening attire.

"Sure you can," the singer replied, a wide grin spreading across her face. "Just sit side saddle. Come on." Pulling the dream into her arms, she whispered, "I’ve missed you. Thank you."

As they walked towards the motorcycle, Gina Perry and her camera person appeared, lights on and cameras rolling. "Hey, M.J. Is this your girlfriend? I understand you and, let's see," the reporter flipped through her notes, "I believe her name is Susan,...you and Susan have been an item for about a year. Is it true you are leaving your husband for her? Are your children aware of your relationship with Susan?"

Maggie's temper reached meltdown. Placing the helmets on the bike, she turned and moved towards Gina with only Susan's presence stopping her. Susan feared the motorcycle, but right now, Gina Perry was the greater threat. Pointing to the bike, she asked if a car was nearby. Maggie shook her head. Seeing no other way out, Susan climbed on the bike, putting on one of the helmets on the motorcycle while she called to her friend. Watching Gina close in, Maggie jumped on the bike and took off. At the first stop light she too fixed a helmet tightly onto her head.

The entertainer was in heaven, feeling her lover leaning against her, those wonderful arms around her waist. She could easily forget the Gina Perry's of the world.

Leaping forward into the busy Orlando late night traffic, Susan's arms wrapped tightly around her, Maggie felt powerful. Perry and the cameraperson climbed into the station van and tried to follow. Riding on and off the sidewalk, Maggie finally lost Gina Perry in the after concert traffic. Driving north, they found themselves riding towards downtown Winter Park.

Susan's grip loosened as she began to enjoy the ride and the warmth of the dark-haired woman. As they pulled onto Park Avenue, she was thrilled at the freedom. The feeling of being close to everything around her. The smells and sounds. The wind blowing against them. Relaxing into her friend’s back, Susan watched the lights, the people, and the traffic passing by.

Having not seen the television van for the last ten minutes, they crossed Mills Avenue, made a U-turn and headed back to downtown Orlando. The worst was over.

Dodging in and out of traffic, Maggie didn't see the slow moving horse-drawn carriage. Trying to avoid running into the buggy, the inebriated entertainer veered off the pavement, riding into one of the many parks in the city. The dew-dampened grass provided little traction. The bike slide on the slick surface careening out-of-control. Her judgment impaired she tried to keep the motorcycle upright, overcorrecting and skidding across the grass. Realizing she was loosing control, she reached back to grab Susan before they were thrown. "No," Maggie shouted as they both flew off the motorcycle onto the damp surface. The machine tumbled awkwardly in one direction while the two women bounced on to the pavement a few feet from the street.

Chapter 21

She didn't hear the ambulance coming. All Maggie thought about was Susan lying on the ground in pain. Lifting the woman’s head into her lap, she cried, "Hold on Susan. I'm so sorry. Oh, God, I'm sorry." The position of Susan's leg could only mean that it must be broken. "Where the fuck is the ambulance? Oh, baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do this. I love you, sweetie. Please, believe me. Please." Suddenly camera lights appeared and Perry's voice could be heard. Maggie was numb. "Get the fucking camera out of here," she shouted, reluctant to let go of Susan yet angry with Perry for recording the scene. She placed her body between the camera and her lover, but not before the entire scene was recorded for tomorrow's news.

Susan lost consciousness before Maggie's last words. Her only memories were of her head on her lover's lap and feeling cold. The emergency medical crew forced the star to relinquish her hold, but allowed her to ride to the hospital in the same ambulance.

At the emergency room, Susan was taken to x-ray while Maggie received a thorough examination followed by ten stitches in her left arm. As soon as she was free to be discharged, she was questioned by the Orlando Police Department. Refusing a breathalyzer test at the scene, she was arrested and a blood alcohol test was performed at the hospital. Not sure what to do, she called Derek.

Paul's private plane landed in Orlando four hours later. Paul and two high-powered local attorneys arrived at the courthouse simultaneously. It was late morning by the time bail had been arranged and the frightened star was released into Paul’s custody. Her preliminary hearing set for four days later, she was advised to remain in town.

"I’ll get Ms. Carson checked into a treatment center if you will start the motions to postpone the hearing," Paul said.

"My partner and I will file preliminary motions this afternoon. If she has no other arrests or convictions, this judge is good for first time offenders who voluntarily seek treatment." Joshua Hale was a third generation lawyer with both his father and grandfather having served as judges in Florida. He was also one of Paul’s fraternity brothers and close friend. "I’ve made a reservation at a program in Winter Park. They are accustomed to high profile clients and are good at maintaining privacy. Pricey, but worth it."

"I’ve arranged for protection for Susan Hettinger but I think we need to get her out of the Orlando facility," Brad Wysham was another of the partners of Hale, Rhodes, Wysham and Tucker. "The orthopedist we’ve arranged to supervise her care also has staff privileges at a private hospital closer to Ms. Hettinger’s home. Security is much tighter there and we can get her registered under another name."

"Thank you both for coming to our rescue so quickly. We appreciate your help. Once I get Ms. Carson checked in, I’ll be back in touch. Go ahead and make the arrangements for both women."

"You can thank me after you see our bill," Josh Hale warned and laughed.

"I am sure. Tell your lovely wife I said hello and that she will be able to afford a new car soon."

The three dark-suited lawyers laughed and shook hands promising to have dinner before Paul flew back to California.

Escorting his friend out of the building, he spoke in a low voice, "You’ve really screwed up this time."

"Give it a rest!" Maggie hissed.

On the steps of the courthouse were the media, feasting on curiosity and someone else's adversity. In the lead was Gina Perry.

"Ms. Carson," Perry began, "I understand your girlfriend was seriously hurt. Is it true the two of you had been drinking and partying before the accident?"

Jumping between the two women, Paul answered, "Ms. Carson has no comment." He pulled a struggling Maggie towards the limousine.

"Bitch. This would never have happened if it hadn’t been for that woman. Let me just have ten seconds with her."

"Forget it. That's what she wants and she’ll have it all on camera. Just get in the car and be quiet."

Maggie didn't know what else to do. "How is Susan?"

"She’s going to be okay. We need to get into a private hospital as soon as possible. The media were snooping around this morning. Fortunately, Susan is not yet in any position to talk to anyone."

"Can I see her?"

"Not until we get her someplace more secure."

"Why not? Won't she see me?"

Controlling his temper, Paul answered, "Believe it or not, this is not about you. This is about Susan's best interest. Having you around will not insure she is left alone and gets the rest and quiet she needs. Right now they should be transporting her to Winter Park. Josh convinced the doctors it was closer to her home and family. The medical director appreciates the large donation you made to the Winter Park Lakeside Hospital and will make sure Susan is left alone."

The entertainer's head hurt. She felt sick but didn't want to stop the car. "What do I do now?"

"You are entering a substance abuse treatment center near the hospital. It is a 30-day program. We’ll get your pre-trial hearing postponed for at least 30 days. This is your first offense in Florida and you may get off with community service."

"I can't. I have concerts."

"You can and you will or I am on a plane back to California in the next hour."

"This isn't fair. The motorcycle just slid."

"No, Maggie, you're blood alcohol was .08 and that was several hours after the accident. Florida has very strict laws. You should never have been driving. Either you clean up or you go to jail. You've hurt a lot of people. And you almost killed Susan."

"Stop! I'm going to throw up."

"Not in this car. Hold it until I stop." Paul waited as long as he could before pulling the car over. Maggie was white when she got back in.

"Where is Derek?" she asked.

"He’s in California. With the kids."

Maggie needed a drink. The fight inside her was slowly, painfully dying. Weakly, she asked, "When can I talk to him?"

"When you sober up. Maggie, in the five years I have known the two of you, I have never seen him so upset or so hurt by anything you’ve done. You have not called the kids in three months and haven't talked to them since we left New York six weeks ago. The accident this morning...he is pissed." Paul pulled the car up to a rather plain looking two-story building. "It's your choice. You go through the detox program, join AA, and stay clean, I will help you. Or you get out of the car now and I am returning to California. Which is it?"

Which is it? Maggie repeated the words over and over as she leaned against the car door. "When can I see Susan?"

"When you get sober."

"Who appointed you the police for everyone in my life?" Paul sat silently. He had come to care about this woman, but he knew alcoholics lied, cheated, hurt others and themselves, and destroyed lives. Only Maggie could decide her path. "All right, I'll do it," Maggie shouted as she slammed the car door and walked into the building. Two hours later, Paul left and Maggie was alone. No Derek, no Paul, no Susan, no alcohol, no excuses, no lies. She was really alone.

The pounding in my head is finally gone. I miss it. At least I could focus on it and not have to think. Now the dam has broken and uncontrolled thoughts ramble around, attacking, leaving, only to have an even sharper, more painful thought intrude. I feel helpless and end up crying. There can't be any tears left. Why, Maggie, why?

No answer. Someone has come into the room. I don't want to know who.

"Hi, Susan. Here, I got these for you."

Sandy has brought flowers. Guilt is evident in the reluctance she has in coming close.

"What is it with you and Maggie? I can't believe you just turned around and walked out of there. I asked you not to leave me. The two of you just do what you want and never ask."

"I...I don't know. I just saw the two of you together and thought...." Sandy couldn't continue.

"Thought what? I went to raise money, not to resurrect my relationship with Maggie." Even as she said the words, Susan knew that were not true. She had become hopeful after seeing Maggie. "You waltz in and out of my life. You promise to call and don’t. You say you are going to be someplace and sometimes you are and the rest of the times you’re not. And you don’t even have the excuse that Maggie does. You are here in town. I asked you to stay by me and you just walked out." The words do nothing to relieve Sandy's own guilt. Seeing the hurt on her face, I relent. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't mean to take all my anger out on you. It's not all yours. I think it’s best that we not see each other for awhile. I am so angry right now and I’m afraid I’ll take it out on you."

"I'm sorry, I just..."

"Please," softening my voice, I plead, "please, just leave." Allowing Maggie back into my life has again thrown my life into a turmoil. I hadn’t seen or talked to her in nearly 24 hours. Sandy reminds me of that. I don’t want to be around her for awhile.

The day is divided into sleeping and waking. Mom visits and says very little. For once, I wish she would talk. How many years have I wished she would not offer advice and now she is silent.

"Hi, Susan. Maureen." Tall, attractive Paul. Kind, intelligent Paul. Maggie's Paul.

"Hi. You look the way I feel."

A brief smile graces his face and then fades. "Maggie admitted herself to detox yesterday. She can't see or talk to anyone for the first three weeks. The fourth week they require family participation. Derek is planning on coming out next week with the kids and staying at the house in Seminole County if that is okay with you." I nod. His voice becoming softer, Paul reaches for my hand, "I can't tell you how sorry we both are about all this. Whatever you need, let me know. We will take care of the bills and anything else you need. You, too, Maureen."

"We'll be fine. I just want to go home."

"You may want to stay at the house in Groveland. The media will probably have your home address and phone number by this evening. I can't keep them away."

I couldn't hold the tears any longer. When is my life ever going to be normal? No one speaks. The silence is deafening. "I want to go home to my house. We can always move later. I just want to go home."

Paul looks tired. I wonder how Maggie is. Mom looks so sad. "All right. The doctor says you will be ready to go home tomorrow, but you really need to rest. If it is okay with you, Maureen, I'll drive her home."

They talk for awhile and I have difficulty following the conversation. Suddenly it is quiet. I realize I have fallen asleep and both Paul and my mom are gone. Home. Tomorrow. I am not sure where, or what, home is any more.