Shall We Dance?
A matter of moments after they return to the lounge, Tolly is approached by another man in a suit and tie. This one is younger than the governor, less polished around the edges, but he oozes similar amounts of suavity.
“There you are, Tolly. I’ve got some people you need to see. May I borrow you for a moment?” It’s phrased as a question, but the guy has enough self-assurance that it comes out more as an expectation. For that reason alone, Anna realises he is someone noteworthy, even if she has never seen his face on a television screen. Except long hours at work mean she watches less television than most and has not seen the inside of a cinema in years, so perhaps that is not significant. His accent is non-regional but generally American. His hair is coifed, his chin clean-shaven. Everything about him says he is not here to party; he is here to work.
Tolly’s reaction to him is a brief nod. Acceptance. He turns to her and Anna can see the apology even before his words. “Anna, this is my agent, Ryan. Ryan, this is my friend Anna from London. I’m very sorry. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Ryan gives Anna a brief once-over and the courtesy of a “Pleased to meet you”, even as his eyes dismiss her.
“Likewise.” Anna returns a gracious smile of her own, but she need not have bothered because Ryan’s attention is all on Tolly. It gives her a little spark of satisfaction that Tolly’s attention is all on her, waiting for her permission to leave. “Of course,” she says, ignoring the twinge of disappointment at his abandonment. He is a big star. What did she expect? She has been lucky to have so much of his time this evening, no matter his claim she is his personal guest. “It’s a party. I’m sure I can find something to amuse me.”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” Tolly’s tone is wry.
“We won’t be long,” Ryan says encouragingly. “I’ll keep them brief.” He flashes the big gold watch on his wrist and moves off without a backward glance. Tolly follows after him, but Anna is pleased when he turns to check on her just before he enters the corridor.
She drifts outside. The evening breeze is still warm from the day’s heat, but it is pleasant. She catches one of the servers returning to the kitchen and lightens his platter of the last of his canapes. But the little bite-sized morsel does little more than awaken her hunger. She moves to sit on a planter close to the open door, the better to intercept the next waiter. But before one wanders into her path, a shaggy blonde head intrudes.
“I can’t believe you never mentioned Tolly Hyde!” Bella exclaims, settling beside her friend. “If he was my friend, I’d be telling the world. Except no one is going to believe me. I wish I’d thrown my phone over the wall! You’ll back me up, though, won’t you?”
Anna mutters a vague noise of assent, but Bella is already gabbling on. “I guess that’s your cousin. Sabrina? Didn’t you say she was in the movie business?”
Normally, Anna would correct Bella, but she finds herself unwilling to divulge exactly how she knows Tolly or anything about their friendship. Indeed, she’s as confused about their relationship as Bella is. She can’t work out if Tolly is genuinely interested in her or if he’s just one of those people who is intense about their friendships. She suspects it is the latter. She hopes it is the latter because Tolly is off-limits. Even if she had never sworn her childish pledge, how could she be with someone who broke her sister’s heart? She would not normally be averse to a brief romance, a holiday fling, but Tolly is something else. He might be the most fascinating man she has ever met. But Anna has enough self-awareness to know that one bite of him is unlikely to be enough for her. And how would that work, with the two of them on opposite sides of the world? The US medical system doesn’t recognise UK medical training. She would have to re-train for years if she moved to Los Angeles. And why is she even considering this? There is nothing between her and Tolly and there likely never will be. He is a charming man. Charming men make everyone feel special, even those on the periphery. Best not forget that.
She comes back to the present as Bella gives her a nudge. “I said, ‘Look what I’ve got’.” She shakes a small bag of powder in front of Anna’s nose. “Do you want some?”
Anna leans away from the bag and refocuses her eyes on Bella. From somewhere, Bella has produced a key in one hand and the tiny bag in the other. “What’s that?” Anna asks, more from curiosity than want.
“Ket. Do you want some?”
Anna shakes her head. Drugs have never held any attraction for her. She has never felt the need to boost her social capital by taking them or bragging about them, nor does she seek validation as a rule-breaker. And she is well-balanced enough not to use them to prop up failing mental health. She is surprised Bella is so eager to indulge. Anna is not so na?ve as to think all medics are shiny, bright people with no bad habits. She knows they are flawed humans, the lot of them. She tries to think back to when they were students together. Had Bella been taking drugs then? She cannot remember any major signs, but Bella’s apparent familiarity with them clearly didn’t start today.
She watches as Bella scoops a portion onto the key and lifts it to her nose. Anna wants to sweep it from her friend’s hands and throw it into the pool, but it would achieve nothing. If Hollywood’s reputation is to be believed, there are probably enough drugs floating around this party to fund a small nation. And no one can be forced to stop taking drugs. They have to want to stop. Anna is resigned, but in her head, her estimation of Bella as clever, outgoing and friendly is eclipsed by the image of someone moving through life, chasing one high after another. She wonders if James knows. Possibly, because Bella is being very open, as if drug use is normal and acceptable to all her acquaintance. She cannot believe James would condone it, though, even as smitten as he is.
Bella chatters on. “I met this guy,” she says. “I mean he’s no Tolly Hyde, but no one is. I’d fight you for him if I thought I had a chance, but I’m not daft. He wasn’t interested in me, only you. But this guy is a director on a US show. We don’t have it over the pond. He said he reckoned I’d be a good fit.”
Anna wants to back the conversation up and return to Bella’s analysis of Tolly, but she needs to issue a warning to her hyped-up friend instead. “Sounds like a line to me,” she says.
“Yeah, I thought that too. But … maybe it’s not. This is a party at Tolly Hyde’s. Stands to reason there will be directors here. Right?”
“I don’t doubt he’s genuinely a director. And I don’t doubt his eyes fell out of his head when he saw you. But I do doubt he’ll follow through with any promises he makes.”
Bella’s voice goes vague as she stands. “Maybe,” she says. “I’m going to dance. Want to come?”
Anna shakes her head. “I need some food first,” she says. During her talk with Bella, she’s seen several trays of canapes emerge and return empty. Given that starlets aren’t supposed to eat, she’s not sure who is consuming all of it. Bella floats away, the tassels on her dress swaying in time with her hips as she heads towards the music. As Anna finally manages to intercept a tray of food, she turns her attention to loading up a napkin with little goodies. Each one is a miniature work of art. Just cooked slivers of beef folded on top of a cube of crispy polenta, skewered in place and topped with horseradish sour cream; crispy fish skins piled with diced crab and cucumber topped with shreds of lime; pearls of mango nestling between dabs of crème fra?che with slivers of tuna carpaccio on squid-ink crackers. Anna takes a minute to admire them all before she eats them, each one an explosion of taste on her tongue. This is money. She wonders if this is how Tolly eats every day, with food this good. Anna is no stranger to fine dining and has frequented plenty of Michelin-starred restaurants around the globe. But these are extraordinary. She looks around the party. All the women are wrinkle-free and gorgeous; all the men wear success like their gold watches. It is another life. Even for someone raised among the British upper class.
But she finds them less impressive than Bella does. She wonders how many of these people Tolly would count as genuine friends. A couple? No more than half a dozen, for sure. And she would hold herself as one of those. But maybe they all would. Maybe Tolly’s magic is such that each and every one of them thinks he is their close friend.
She licks the last few traces of food off her fingertips and wipes them dry with the napkin. As a waiter passes, she drops the used napkin on his tray and then looks around for what to do next. She need not worry. A voice says, “Actress?”
Anna turns her head. “Doctor.” She debates her next words. Her inclination would be to return with “Grifter?” but this isn’t some random stranger in a bar. And the last time she rebuffed one of those, he turned out to be Bella’s brother. This is Tolly’s private party. Any one of these people could be crucial to his career. She moderates her response, but the guy is still at least two decades older than her and clearly trying a hit. He deserves some slapping down. “Extra?”
“Ooh. I like that. I might have to use it one day. Writer. British, uh? Randy?”
Anna’s eyes flick open. This is forward even for an American. “Not one bit.”
“Randy, short for Randall.”
And Anna laughs. “Did your parents hate you?” she asks. Then: “Anna, short for Anna.”
“Your king named his son Willie. And you had a prime minister called Johnson. You Brits can’t talk.”
“Point taken. But you also had a president called Johnson.”
“ In your guts, you know he’s nuts .”
Anna’s eyebrows shoot up.
“One of LBJ’s campaign slogans, used very effectively against the opposing candidate.”
“Politics really is a tough game over here. Definitely not for thin skins.” She saves that nugget to send to her sister Jasmine, a political activist. She smiles to herself, but Randy clearly misinterprets the target of her pleasure.
“Want to dance?” he asks, but his eyes drift from hers.
The first sign of Tolly’s return is his hand landing gently on her shoulder. And his voice in her ear, “Anna.”
It’s remarkable how many meanings he can convey with that one word.
She is preternaturally aware of the contact. The heat spreading over her skin belying the familiarity of his gesture, as if they were old friends. The way he delivers her name, with satisfaction, as if pleased to find her once again. She glances up at his face to find him watching Randy. His hand drops away as he steps forwards, leaving her even more confused.
“Tolly,” he says needlessly and offers his hand to her companion.
“Randall MacIntyre.” Anna notes Randy isn’t taking any chances with his name this time. Or maybe it’s a movie thing. After all, who has to introduce themselves to the host normally? Only a plus one, and she doubts Randy is anybody’s add on.
“Randall, we’ll speak later, but I need to consult the doctor here.”
Tolly’s hand returns to capture hers and he gently pulls her away. Randall, realising he has been trumped, walks off, probably in search of even younger prey.
Anna allows herself to be led. “And with what do you need my help?”
Tolly stops on the dance floor and pivots to face her. “I think I’ve got an allergy. I’m becoming allergic to talking business at a party.” Leaning forwards, he takes her other hand and pulls her in. The music is a boppy Latin number Anna doesn’t recognise, but Tolly sets the pace with a salsa and all she has to do is to follow.
“We usually recommend avoidance, but I don’t think you need me to tell you that,” Anna says.
“On the contrary. I can now tell Ryan I’m following doctor’s orders.” He twirls her around and Anna sees Tolly’s agent on the edge of the dance floor watching them.
“He won’t interrupt,” Tolly says. “The only problem is, now we dare not leave.” The DJ melds the fast beat of the song into a slower ballad and Tolly pulls her closer. Close enough to smell his cool, fresh scent. Close enough to feel the brush of his shirt against her bare skin. Close enough to feel the pant of his breath whispering down her neck. His hand leaves hers and his fingers slide up her arm to cup her shoulder, trailing a line of goosebumps in their wake.
She wants to step into his embrace, lay her head on his shoulder, feel the length of his body along hers, but she dare not. This is dangerous. She likes him too much. She should be running after Randall, not flirting with dynamite. Of course, it may not be a problem. He may not like her that way at all. She is used to men interpreting the slightest sign of friendship as an attraction. She will not make that mistake with him. And her usual ability to detect a man’s affection seems to have become scrambled, like a compass brought too close to an alternating current.
Instead, she rests her hand on Tolly’s chest, her elbow folded between them. Close enough for intimacy but far enough to avoid misunderstandings. Anyway, this way she can see his face. She tells herself it is for the better to judge his intentions, but she cannot help but enjoy the way his dark stubble frames his jaw, how his eyes crease with his pleasure, and the gentle ocean breeze lifts and stirs his unruly hair.
“You’re a good dancer,” she remarks.
“I’ve had lessons. A lot of actors get their start in student productions and local theatre. You never know what a role may require. I can’t do ballet or tap, but I can waltz and jive.”
“And Mr Darcy spent an uncommonly large amount of time in ballrooms,” he adds.
Which is when Anna realises she is going to have to come clean. “I have to confess that I read the book a while ago and I’ve seen the BBC production, but I’ve never watched your remake.” She’s avoided it out of a sort of loyalty to her sister. And yet here she is, practising the worst sort of disloyalty, dancing in Tolly’s arms.
“But you recognised me?” he asks.
“From the billboards. They did advertise the series hard. You were on the side of the bus I caught to work for months.”
“So when you look at me, you don’t expect Darcy?”
Anna shakes her head.
Tolly huffs out a breath and it sets of a trail of sparks along Anna’s spine. “It’s one of the reasons I accepted this new role. To break the hold of Darcy in people’s minds.”
“Surely all the right people see you as you ? And not as a character or a celebrity?”
“You’d think. Sometimes the image is too strong. Especially when image and reality are not that far apart.”
“Tall and handsome?”
“I’m flattered, but I meant rational and reserved.” Anna remembers Serena’s story of the end of his last relationship and holds her tongue.
But all ballads come to an end, and the beat picks up again with a lively rock number from the fifties. Tolly effortlessly adjusts his grip and spins Anna out and back. He lifts her into the air and twirls her around, which is when she sees it – a man and woman getting decidedly frisky on one of the sun loungers by the pool. It’s obviously nighttime and it’s a party, not a sports tournament, but there are sufficient lights strung through trees and dotted around columns to allow the eye to see. And Anna is sure she recognises the woman’s shaggy blonde locks. Still, she seeks reassurance from the only source available.
On the next move that brings them chest to chest, Anna asks, “Is that Bella, by the pool?”
Tolly chuckles. “Looks like she’s getting real friendly with the locals,” he says in his West Texas accent. But this time, it doesn’t have its magical effect and she can’t find his words funny in the slightest. James … Her dorky, kind boss does not deserve this. She holds the vain hope Bella and James have reached an understanding. A parting of ways as the conference ended, but she remembers James from earlier. Nothing in his demeanour suggested a tinge of sadness at the imminent end of his holiday romance. Not that they were on holiday.
The woman on the lounger stands. It is definitely Bella. Something in the way she moves, the casual shake of her locks, the silhouette against the light from the pool, makes Anna certain. Bella holds out her hand and the male figure rises to take it, re-fastening his trousers before he does. He takes Bella’s hand and follows as she leads him into the darker areas of the garden. The night swallows them and Anna turns her attention back to her partner. She tries to forget what she has seen. She is not Bella’s keeper. Luckily, as Tolly spins her around, swings her up, dips her down, there is little further chance for talk. She concentrates on having a good time. It is not often she gets to dance with someone who knows what they are doing. They jive and rumba and salsa and merengue until Anna is gasping. “Stop,” she calls, laughing. “I need something to drink!”
In a slightly calmer voice, she says, “Besides, it’s safe now. I think Ryan got tired of waiting for you.”
“Don’t you believe it,” Tolly says. “He’s devious. It’s a great trait in an agent, as long as he’s on your side. You had better not leave me alone, or he’ll find some way to sneak me away.”
“You romantics. It’s always drama,” she says. “I’m sure Ryan is completely trustworthy and a great lump like you isn’t going anywhere he doesn’t want to.”
Still, she stays by Tolly’s side as he orders drinks from a passing waiter. He takes her back to the little terrace she saw when she first arrived. She leans against the dwarf wall, staring out at the lights of Los Angeles. It is late, and most of the residential quarters are in darkness apart from streetlights. Tolly looms behind her, the heat from his body welcome as the perspiration from dancing cools on her skin.
“Have you seen much of LA?” he asks.
“I was here last year and stayed on to do the studios. I went to the Getty Centre today. I was hoping to cycle the Strand, but I got side-tracked.”
“The child who got knocked over?”
“No. He was okay. I was side-tracked before that. A bus tour my boss wanted to do.” She is not about to confess to the celebrity home part. Nor does she want to explain the Bella-James-John situation, or to think about any of them in this moment. She wants to be present, here, with Tolly and the night and the stars.
“Have you got plans tomorrow?”
“Nothing fixed.”
“Would you let me show you around?”
“I’d love that.” Anna says the words from politeness, but as she says them, she realises how true they are. “But don’t you already have things you have to do?” She cannot imagine, given his new propulsion to super-stardom, he has time to take a day off.
“The thing about being me at the moment is that I can ask for almost anything and someone will try to make it happen. There are limits. I have to turn up on Saturday night, but other than that, I can make it work.”
“Okay, then.” Is it a date? Or is it just him being friendly? Even Anna would show a friend around London if they’d arrived on a transatlantic flight.
“We’d need to start early in the morning.”
Anna blinks. “Oh. In that case, I’d better go home.”
“You could stay here.” The words are spoken softly.
For an actor, Tolly can be awfully obtuse with his meaning. Anna holds still. For one moment, she considers the temptation of staying with Tolly, of sharing his bed, of her skin sliding against his in the cool air of the dawn.
“I have five spare bedrooms.”
Sense returns with a crash. No. Of course not. There she goes again, reading far more into this than friendship. She doesn’t trust herself to speak, so she shakes her head. She pushes off the wall, feeling a little more collected. “I must find Bella.”
But Bella isn’t immediately obvious. She’s not on the terrace, nor in the house. Anna prays she hasn’t found some way of circumventing the guard on the stairs for Tolly to find her in his bed later, naked. She would not put that past Bella. But then Tolly calls his security.
“She left earlier,” the guard tells him. “With some guy. Randy MacIntyre. I think they were headed for a club.”
Tolly turns to Anna. “I think you’re on your own.”
Anna shrugs. Like she has been telling herself all evening, Bella is a big girl and knows what she is doing.
They retrace their steps back through the house and garden to the entrance gate. Frank is there, seemingly already alerted for her arrival and standing with the rear passenger door open.
“Pick you up at eight?” Tolly asks.
Anna has no idea of the time, but it must be the early hours already. “You might not need it, but I could do with some beauty sleep. Nine?” she counters.
“Nine.” He smiles his agreement and Anna’s heart loses its pace for a moment. Damn. She thought she was past that. Desensitised by exposure.
She wonders if he will lean in for a kiss – a brief peck on her cheek, or the double air kiss – but he steps back. There is nothing to do but lower her head and climb into the back of the car. Frank shuts the door behind her. It’s another lesson for her. Every time she thinks they’re moving on from friendship, she finds they are still right there. Is this what it was like for all the guys who wanted her heart when all she could give in return was friendship?
The journey to the hotel is uneventful and Anna, yawning with tiredness now the buzz of being with Tolly has disappeared, is deposited at the entrance, clutching her phone in her hands. Bella’s is gone. She assumes her friend picked it up when she left with Randy. She is glad. She has no idea what time Bella will roll in – if at all – and she has no wish to be woken up at five in the morning by Bella retrieving her phone.
Zombie-like, she rides the elevator to her floor and lets herself into her room. She surveys the devastation with dismay. Stopping only to wash off her make-up and empty her bladder, she sets an alarm. Then she sweeps all the detritus of cosmetics and abandoned outfits to the floor and crawls into bed.
Just like a lovesick teenager, she closes her eyes, imaging what it might be like to be kissed by Tolly Hyde.