Sidney Sheldon - A Stranger in the Mirror

Jill rose to her feet and walked out of the office.

One hour later, Clifton received a call from Toby.

Clifton had never heard Toby sound so excited. “I don’t know what you said to Jill, pal, but I have to hand it to you—she can’t wait. We’re on our way to Las Vegas to get married!”

The Lear jet was thirty-five miles from the Los Angeles International Airport, flying at 250 knots. David Kenyon made contact with the LAX approach control and gave them his position.

David was exhilarated. He was on his way to Jill.

Cissy had recovered from most of her injuries suffered in the automobile accident, but her face had been badly lacerated. David had sent her to the best plastic surgeon in the world, a doctor in Brazil. She had been gone for six weeks, during which time she had been sending him glowing reports about the doctor.

Twenty-four hours ago, David had received a telephone call from Cissy, saying she was not returning. She had fallen in love.

David could not believe his good fortune.

“That’s—that’s wonderful,” he managed to stammer. “I hope you and the doctor will be happy.”

“Oh, it’s not the doctor,” Cissy replied. “It’s someone who owns a little plantation here. He looks exactly like you, David. The only difference is that he loves me.”

The crackling of the radio interrupted his thoughts. “Lear Three Alpha Papa, this is Los Angeles Approach Control. You’re clear for approach to Runway Twenty-five Left. There will be a United seven-oh-seven behind you. When you land, please taxi to the ramp on your right.”

“Roger.” David began to make his descent, and his heart started to pound. He was on his way to find Jill, to tell her he still loved her, to ask her to marry him.

He was walking through the terminal when he passed the newsstand and saw the headline: “TOBY TEMPLE WEDS ACTRESS.” He read the story twice and then turned and went into the airport bar.

He stayed drunk for three days and then flew back to Texas.

28

It was a storybook honeymoon. Toby and Jill flew in a private jet to Las Hadas, where they were the guests of the Patinos at their fairyland resort carved out of the Mexican jungle and beach. The newlyweds were given a private villa surrounded by cacti, hibiscus and brilliantly colored bougainvillea, where exotic birds serenaded them all night. They spent ten days exploring and yachting and being partied. They ate delicious dinners at the Legazpi prepared by gourmet chefs and swam in the fresh-water pools. Jill shopped at the exquisite boutiques at the Plaza.

From Mexico they flew to Biarritz where they stayed at L’Hotel du Palais, the spectacular palace that Napoleon III built for his Empress Eugenie. The honey-mooners gambled at the casinos and went to the bullfights and fished and made love all night.

From the Côte Basque they drove east to Gstaad, thirty-five hundred feet above sea level in the Bernese Oberland. They took sightseeing flights among the peaks, skimming Mont Blanc and the Matterhorn. They skied the dazzling white slopes and rode dog sleds and attended fondue parties and danced. Toby had never been so happy. He had found the woman to make his life complete. He was no longer lonely.

Toby could have continued the honeymoon forever, but Jill was eager to get home. She was not interested in any of these places, nor in any of these people. She felt like a newly crowned queen who was being kept from her country. Jill Castle was burning to return to Hollywood.

Mrs. Toby Temple had scores to settle.

BOOK THREE

29

There is a smell to failure. It is a stench that clings like a miasma. Just as dogs can detect the odor of fear in a human being, so people can sense when a man is on his way down.

Particularly in Hollywood.

Everyone in the Business knew that Clifton Lawrence was finished, even before he knew it. They could smell it in the air around him.

Clifton had not heard from Toby or Jill in the week since they had returned from their honeymoon. He had sent an expensive gift and had left three telephone messages, which had been ignored. Jill. Somehow she had managed to turn Toby’s mind against him. Clifton knew that he had to effect a truce. He and Toby meant too much to each other to let anyone come between them.

Clifton drove out to the house on a morning when he knew Toby would be at the studio. Jill saw him coming up the driveway and opened the door for him. She looked stunningly beautiful, and he said so. She was friendly. They sat in the garden and had coffee, and she told him about the honeymoon and the places they had been. She said, “I’m sorry Toby hasn’t returned your calls, Cliff. You can’t believe how frantic it’s been around here.” She smiled apologetically, and Clifton knew then that he had been wrong about her. She was not his enemy.

“I’d like us to start fresh and be friends,” he said.

“Thank you, Cliff. So would I.”

Clifton felt an immeasurable sense of relief. “I want to give a dinner party for you and Toby. I’ll take over the private room at the Bistro. A week from Saturday. Black tie, a hundred of your most intimate friends. How does that sound?”

“Lovely. Toby will be pleased.”

Jill waited until the afternoon of the party to telephone and say, “I’m so sorry, Cliff. I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to make it tonight. I’m a little tired. Toby thinks I should stay home and rest.”

Clifton managed to hide his feelings. “I’m sorry about that, Jill, but I understand. Toby will be able to come, won’t he?”

He heard her sigh over the telephone. “I’m afraid not, dear boy. He won’t go anywhere without me. But you have a nice party.” And she hung up.

It was too late to call off the party. The bill was three thousand dollars. But it cost Clifton much more than that. He had been stood up by the guest of honor, his one and only client, and everyone there, the studios heads, the stars, the directors—all the people who mattered in Hollywood—were aware of it. Clifton tried to cover up by saying that Toby was not feeling well. It was the worst thing he could have done. When he picked up a copy of the Herald Examiner the next afternoon, there was a photograph of Mr. and Mrs. Toby Temple that had been taken at the Dodgers Stadium the night before.

Clifton Lawrence knew now that he was fighting for his life. If Toby dropped him, there would be no one around to pick him up. None of the big agencies would take him on, because he could bring them no clients; and he could not bear the thought of starting all over again on his own. It was too late for that. He had to find a way to make peace with Jill. He telephoned Jill and told her he would like to come to the house to talk to her.

“Of course,” she said. “I was telling Toby last night that we haven’t seen enough of you lately.”

“I’ll be over in fifteen minutes,” Clifton said. He walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a double Scotch. He had been doing too much of that lately. It was a bad habit to drink during a working day, but who was he kidding? What work? Every day he received important offers for Toby, but he could not get the great man to sit down and even discuss them with him. In the past, they had talked over everything. He remembered all the wonderful times they had had, the trips they had taken, the parties and the laughs and the girls. They had been as close as twins. Toby had needed him, had counted on him. And now…Clifton poured another drink and was pleased to see his hands were not trembling so much.

When Clifton arrived at the Temples’ house, Jill was seated on the terrace, having coffee. She looked up and smiled as she saw him approach. You’re a salesman , Clifton told himself. Sell her on you .