Author's note: "A Lonely Sky" is now available at Amazon.com in paperback form!
Chapter Five
Sam entered his small hotel room and switched on the light. He removed his jacket, and tossed it on a nearby chair. Walking over to the window, he looked out into the night. The rain now pounded fierce against his window.
Despite the weather, Sam felt happier than he had in days. Talking with Julia made him feel part of the real world again, not just a player in the surreal life he was about to jump into. He smiled as he thought of her, so young, so pretty and so sad, like him. Her career decisions had been his ten years ago. It hadn’t been easy for him to go against his parents’ wishes, bow out of the family business and pursue an acting career.
Sam reached for a cigarette from his nightstand. Bloody hell. Who was he to be giving that sweet girl advice? What did he have to show for all his talent, anyhow? Ten years of stage acting in small London troupes, and a very iffy television mini-series audition.
But acting was in his blood, and he felt it in Julia’s too. Wasn’t it his duty as a fellow actor, to help her pursue her dream? Yet, he upset her by mentioning her mother. And when tears welled in those wide, forget-me-knot blue eyes, something inside him, long buried, stirred. What was it? Compassion? He barely remembered it. He possessed it once, but it somehow became lost in his father’s rage towards him and his own anger and immense grief.
Sam sat on the bed, and rested his head against the down-filled pillows. He stared into space, still holding the unlit cigarette. Julia reminded him of himself, years ago, when the world was his palate, and dreams seemed attainable. He hoped he convinced her to look past her obstacles.
“Easier said than done,” he said aloud, remembering road blocks which haunted him still. Perhaps he shouldn’t have pushed Julia? Perhaps he should have encouraged her to listen to her father? He barely knew her. Maybe her father knew best, unlike his own, who never knew anything as far as Sam was concerned. Why did he feel as if it were his duty to direct her down the career path of acting when he had nothing substantial to show for it?
The shrill ring of the phone on the bedside table startled him. He stared at it, as if it were a sworn enemy. The only one who even knew he was in Rothenburg was his agent, Larry, and the only reason he might call would be if Sam won the part. Then again, if he picked the call up and it wasn’t Larry, the disappointment would be devastating. But the phone kept ringing, indicating urgency.
“It has to be Larry.” Sam grabbed for the phone. “Yes?”
“Where the hell are you, darling?” The silky smooth, high society voice of Deirdre Lamont oozed concern and irritation. “I’ve been ringing everywhere.”
Sam resisted the urge to hang up. “Well, if you have this number you know where I am.”
“Oh, Sammy.” A heavy, dramatic and practiced sigh breathed in his ear. “Why did you leave without telling me where you were going? I’ve spent most of my day working on Larry to tell me.”
Sam cringed. Poor Larry. Stuck with Deirdre hounding him for Sam’s whereabouts. And if Deirdre wanted something, she was relentless until she received it. Larry never stood a chance.
“I just wanted some time away.”
“Oh, but you should have told me, Sammy.” Saccharine sweetness replaced her cool edge. “I could have come with you.”
Sam glanced around the room as if a good response might be written on the walls. How could he admit that she was one of the reasons he left? His eyes fell on the small, black velvet box next to phone. Any man in the world would give up all his possessions for the beautiful blonde blue-blood, yet Sam hesitated.
“Sammy?”
He knew he should speak. One did not keep Deirdre Lamont waiting.
“I’m still here.” Sam crushed the unlit cigarette he held between his fingers. “I just really needed to get away.”
As suspected, Deirdre took no clue that she might be what he was getting away from. People flocked to be part of her world.
“You are coming home for the Lamont family party, aren’t you, darling? I’m desperately hoping to announce the engagement.”
Sam’s fist tightened around the receiver and his head began to throb. Damn his life and his career and his poverty. How did he get himself into this mess? He didn’t love Deirdre, he never had. She pursued him since they were teenagers, but as gorgeous as she was, as high in social circles as she ran, Sam never much liked her. Women like Deirdre possessed no depth past first impressions, and Sam sought passion in people, spirit and thought.
“Sam, you’re dreadfully quiet. You are coming home?”
“Of course.” Sam spoke the words but his heart wasn’t in them. He marveled that Deirdre, for all her calculating, scheming and determination to win him, couldn’t see that he didn’t love her. Or did she suspect the reason he needed to marry her and simply didn’t care? Perhaps she didn’t love him either? Perhaps it was the power of the chase, the thrill of catching the unattainable that excited her?
“Oh darling,” Deirdre cooed into the phone. “I’ve missed you so. I can’t wait to see you again and introduce you as my fiancé.”
Sam picked up the jewelry box and flipped open the lid. A brilliant, sparkling white diamond taunted him, while a picture of the “Past Due” notice on his credit card statement for the unpaid ring flashed before his eyes.
“Yes, Deirdre, it will be wonderful.” But it wouldn’t. Sam shut the box and returned it to the nightstand. Receiving the money that was rightfully his would be wonderful, to be out from under the huge debt he’d procured these last years would be wonderful, but the way he was obtaining his money didn’t feel wonderful. In fact, he felt rather sick.
“I must ring off, Deirdre.”
“Of course, darling. You must be exhausted from doing absolutely nothing all day in Germany.”
Sam ignored the barb.
“Bye.” He hung up. He could stand no more. He took the receiver off the hook and placed it on the nightstand. Movie role or no movie role, he would not be disturbed again.
Sam sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his temples as if he could massage the answers to his problems into his brain. He needed the money a marriage to Deirdre offered. He didn’t want or need Deirdre. He couldn’t count on winning the role in the mini-series for earnings; it was a long shot at best.
He glanced at his reflection in the dresser mirror. He looked tired and drawn. The look of a down and out actor, he mused, and his thoughts returned to Julia.
“Sam, you bloody hypocrite,” he said, aloud. “Why are you steering that girl down this difficult road? Especially when you’re about to take the easy way out?”
He rested against the headboard and tried to assure himself that returning to Deirdre was the right decision. But his conversation with Julia dominated his every thought. He told her to follow her heart and yet here he was, set to defy his own.
He’d never be happy with Deirdre for his wife. She shared none of his interests or passions. And that’s what he needed. Someone who understood the things he loved.
“Someone more like…” He closed his eyes as he drifted off to sleep. “Julia.”
