Danielle Steel - One Day at a Time

“Hi, sweetheart. How was your day?” he asked, and she immediately told him about the call from her mother. She had also had a call from Jane, but didn't take it.

“It's all so stereotypical,” she ranted at him. “The movie star and the dog-walker. My mother acts like all I'm good for is a piece of ass, and only a temporary one at that.”

“Don't underrate yourself,” he said seriously. “I think you would make a great piece of ass long term.”

“Oh shut up,” she said, and smiled for the first time all day.

“Don't let it get to you. There was a lot of stuff in the papers today. Including a great shot of me with both hands on your bottom shoving you into the car. I think that one was my favorite.”

“What are they saying?” Coco asked, sounding worried.

“One of the papers said you are my 'latest beauty.' Another one calls you my new mystery girlfriend. It's all pretty standard stuff. We didn't do anything wrong. You weren't falling-down drunk, neither was I. We didn't have sex in public, although we could try that. It just says you're my new hot date, or my current fling or whatever. After we've been around together for a while, it'll calm down. Right now, it's hot news and everyone wants to know where you live and who you are. And you don't live here, and I'm going away, so you're fine.” But what if she did live there, and with him? They'd be all over them every day. It was exactly why she didn't want to move to L.A. “Don't worry about it. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Now we're out in the open and it's done. It's kind of like losing your virginity to the press, it only hurts the first time, and as long as we behave decently in public, we'll be fine.” She thought he was being overly optimistic, but she didn't want to argue with him about it. It was still very much on her mind that night when her mother called her again. Coco almost didn't answer, but in the end she did. She called to tell Coco that some reporter had called her asking where her daughter lived. She wondered if it was the reporter at the party who had asked if she was Florence Flowers's daughter. One of the papers had reported on that fact, according to Leslie. And her mother had had her secretary tell them that she lived in Europe and was only in L.A. for a few days.

“That was clever of you, Mom. Thank you.” She was grateful for that at least, even if her mother thought she wouldn't hold Leslie's interest for long.

“It'll throw them off the scent for a while. When are you seeing him again?” Her mother was curious about them now.

“This weekend. In Bolinas. He leaves next Monday for Venice on location, he'll be gone for a month or two.”

“That may end it between the two of you. He'll be working with his costars all the time, and you'll be six thousand miles away. Hollywood romances don't usually survive that. Absence makes their hearts fonder of the people they're working with, not the ones they leave at home. Kind of like a cruise.”

“Thanks for the reassurance,” Coco said glumly. It was more of what she'd heard before.

“You have to be realistic about it, if you're going to date someone like him.” Coco wanted to ask her how realistic she was about her twelve-year-old boyfriend, but she didn't. She was always more respectful of her mother than Florence was of her. “Who's in the movie with him?” Florence asked with interest.

Coco reeled off the names of his costars, among them Madison Allbright. “She'll probably be the one,” her mother said. “She's a gorgeous girl. It would be hard for any man to resist her.”

“Thank you, Mom,” Coco said, sounding depressed again, and after thanking her mother for covering for her with the press, she got off the phone. She lay in bed awake for hours, thinking about what she'd said. And by morning Coco was in a total panic over Leslie's costar. She was too embarrassed to even say it to him, but she was seriously worried about it, and had a miserable week as a result. She never once mentioned Madison's name to him when they talked. And it was all she could do not to burst into tears when he walked into the house on Friday night. He let himself in with the keys he had kept, and found Coco in the bathtub with her freshly washed hair wrapped in a towel. He took one look at her, burst into a broad smile, took off his clothes, and got into the tub with her, as she grinned.

“Now this is what I call a homecoming,” he said with obvious delight as he kissed her. And within minutes of getting into the tub with her, they made love. And in spite of all her fears during the week, it was a perfect night. It was as though he had never left to go back to L.A. Everything felt as right as it always had.

They left for Bolinas with the dogs the next morning, and the weather was glorious. It was typical late-September weather and hotter than it had been all summer. The nights were warm and balmy, which was rare. And they had never been more in love with each other. There was no sign of his having fallen for Madison Allbright. But then again, they weren't in Venice yet. But Coco was no longer as worried. There was no doubt in her mind, as she lay in his arms on the deck under the stars, that he was as in love with her as she was with him. He said it to her over and over again, and she believed him. There was no reason why she shouldn't. He had begged her again to come to Venice, and she had promised him she would.

He had brought all the press clippings about them from that week. They had run a number of photographs of them, and there was no question now, the media were hot on their trail.

They talked about it over breakfast on Sunday morning.

“We knew it would happen sooner or later,” Leslie said philosophically. “Any new face on the scene snags their interest. They have nothing better to do than look for gossip and juicy stories.”

“I'm not very juicy,” Coco said as she glanced at their photographs again, in every paper, and sipped her tea. “Wait till someone tells them I'm a dog-walker. That'll really do it for them.” Instead they had latched on to who her mother was, which made her more interesting. She had already told him that they had called her mother.

“You're very juicy!” he assured her, and leaned over to kiss her. “What do you think Jane will say if they call her?”

“That I'm a hippie and a flake and a complete zero, or something equally charming,” Coco said, looking sad about it.

“If she does something like that, I'll kill her,” Leslie said with fervor. “You know, I really think it boils down to jealousy with her,” he said, looking pensive, as he glanced at the ocean and then at Coco. “I think she's pissed off that you're beautiful, do what you want, and you'll always be eleven years younger. I think she's just narcissistic enough to consider that an insult. Maybe she was always jealous of you as a little kid, and you just didn't know it. I don't think this has anything to do with your dropping out of law school, or moving to Bolinas. I think that's her excuse.

“I think, bottom line, she's mad at you for what you are and she's not, starting with younger. You're soft, kind, gentle, compassionate. People love you. Jane is tough as nails, she's had to be to get where she is. The only thing warm and fuzzy about Jane is Liz. She'd be unbearable without her. Everyone likes Liz better, and you. That must be tough for her to stomach. And on top of it, she was an adored only child until you came along when she was eleven. And you fucked it all up for her. I think underneath all the bullshit she talks about and accuses you of, she hasn't forgiven you for that yet. She always puts you down, and treats you like a five-year-old.” What he said had a ring of truth to it, even to Coco, and it shed light on her sister's negative attitude toward her, as long as she could remember. His theory certainly explained it.