Danielle Steel - Bungalow 2

“Oh my God … I'm sorry …” Tanya gasped.

Gordon leaped out of bed in a single bound and looked at her in dismay. For once in his life, he couldn't think of anything funny to say. The girl disappeared into the bathroom, and came out in a bathrobe. Her clothes were in the living room, and she was discreetly trying to get past them, so she could get the hell out. Tanya saw immediately that she was the star of his new movie.

“Some things don't change, I guess,” Tanya said sadly, as Gordon grabbed his jeans and put them on.

“Look, Tan … it doesn't mean anything … it was stupid …we had a lot to drink last night, and got a little crazy.”

“You always do that … sleep with the star, I mean … if they hadn't been so ugly on our picture, you'd have wound up with one of them and not with me.” They both heard the door to the bungalow close behind his costar. She had no desire to be part of a domestic scene.

“That's bullshit. I love you.” He didn't know what else to say. They had been together for almost a year. It was an eternity for him, and just long enough for both of them to think it was for real. Just long enough for Tanya to think they might get married, and for her to want to.

“I love you, too,” she said sadly, and sat down. She wanted to run out the door, but she couldn't. She couldn't move. She just sat there, looking at him, feeling stupid as tears ran down her face. “You're always going to do this, Gordon. Every goddamned time you work on a movie.”

“I'm not. I've changed. I love your life in Marin. I love you …and I love your kids.”

“We love you, too.” She got up then and looked around the room, knowing she'd never want to see this bungalow again. Too much had happened. She'd been there with too many men. Peter, Douglas, and now Gordon.

“Where are you going?” he asked her, looking panicked.

“Home. I don't belong here. I never did. I want a real life, with someone who wants the same things I do, not someone who sleeps with every star he works with.” Gordon looked at her and said nothing. He had been sleeping with his costar since the second week of the movie. There was no point lying to Tanya. They both knew it would happen again. For him, it was an occupational hazard.

She didn't say a word to him. She walked to the door and picked up her bag. And he didn't stop her. She turned to look at him, and he said nothing. He didn't tell her he loved her. They both knew he did. But loving her didn't change anything. This was just the way he was. She walked out of Bungalow 2 and closed the door softly behind her, leaving Gordon where and as he was.

Chapter 24

Molly called Tanya in Marin two days later. She had called her at the hotel, and was surprised when Gordon told her that her mother had gone back to Ross.

“Is something wrong?” Molly asked her when she called her mother. “He sounded funny. Or actually not so funny. He sounded sad. Did you two have a fight?”

“Sort of.” Tanya didn't want to talk to her about it, just as she hadn't told her when Peter had the affair with Alice. “Actually,” she said, choking on the words, “it's over.” He hadn't called her. He was doing what he always did and having a hot romance with his costar. She was his type. Tanya wasn't. Maybe that's why it had lasted longer. They'd had a good run, and she was philosophical about it, but sad that it was over. It was just the way things went in L.A.

“I'm sorry, Mom,” Molly said, genuinely sad for her. They all loved Gordon. “Maybe he'll come back.”

“No. I'm okay. He's not the kind of guy to stick around, or get domestic.”

“At least you had nine great months with him.” Molly tried to cheer her up. It seemed pathetic to Tanya that the best that grownups who loved each other could do was last nine months. She and Peter had lasted for twenty years, and even that meant nothing once he got involved with Alice. Nothing lasted anymore. Promises were no longer kept, and always broken. To Tanya, it seemed a sad statement about people. No one knew what they wanted. And when they claimed they did, they screwed it up anyway. The thought of it depressed her.

She talked to Molly for a while, and eventually the others called her. They had heard the news from Molly. They were all sorry about Gordon. She didn't explain what had happened.

She spent a week mourning him, and then went back to writing short stories, living in the empty house in Ross. It seemed like a barn now without her children.

She worked for months relentlessly, saw no one, rarely went out, and finished the book of short stories just before Thanksgiving. It was a long, lonely autumn. It was the day the kids were due home for Thanksgiving that Walt called her. He was happy to hear she'd finished the book. He had a publisher for it, and took a breath before he told her he had a movie for her, too. He knew before he said it what her reaction would be. She'd already told him in no uncertain terms, months before, not to call her again for a screenplay. She said she'd done the L.A. thing, and under no circumstances would she go back and do it again. She'd done three films, won an Oscar, and spent a total of nearly two years down there. It was enough. From now on, she only wanted to do books. And she was determined now to start a novel. And live in Ross.

“Tell them I'm not interested,” Tanya told him bluntly. She was never going back to L.A. She didn't like how people lived down there, or what they believed in. She liked even less the way they behaved. She had no life in Marin, but she didn't care. She no longer saw her old friends. They belonged to Peter and Alice now. All she was interested in was her writing, and her children when they came to visit. Her agent didn't like the way she lived, but he had to admit, her current writing was terrific. Richer, stronger, deeper. It was easy to see how much she had suffered. But at forty-four, he thought she deserved more of a life.

“Can I at least tell you what this picture is about?” Walt sounded exasperated. He knew how stubborn she was. She had closed the door on the movie business, and she wasn't even willing to hear him out. She never was. Since her Oscar, he had called her at least a dozen times.

“Nope. I don't care what it's about. I'm not doing movies, and I'm never going back to L.A.”

“You don't have to. The producer/director in this case is an independent. He wants to make a movie in San Francisco, and the story is right up your alley.”

“Nope. Tell him to find someone else. I want to start a novel.”

“Oh, for chrissake, Tanya. You won an Oscar. Everybody wants you. This guy has a great idea. He's won all kinds of awards, though not an Oscar. You could write the script for him with your eyes closed.”

“I don't want to write another screenplay,” she said bluntly. “I hate the people who make movies. They have no integrity and no morals. They're a pain in the ass to work for, and every time I go near them, it screws up my life.”

“And your life is so great now? You've turned into a recluse up there, and the stuff you're writing is so depressing, I have to take mood elevators when I read it.” She smiled at his comment. She knew what he said was true, but the work was good, and he knew it. He just didn't like it.

“Then get a new prescription. Because the novel I want to write is no joyride either.”

“Stop writing such depressing shit. Besides, the movie this guy wants to make is serious stuff, too. You could win another Oscar.” He was trying to entice her and getting nowhere.

“I have one. I don't need another one.”

“Sure you do. You could use them as bookends. For all the depressing books you're going to write holed up in your castle.” She laughed at what he said.