Acts of Love by Judith Michael Read Free Book Online Page A

which was soon picked up by a national syndicate, and then she was offered a column in The Sophisticate, a glossy weekly magazine for those who thought they were sophisticated even if others did not. Soon she no longer needed fictitious names because she was invited everywhere and her telephone rang constantly with tips on impending marriages, divorces, births, the end or beginning of affairs, a son or daughter on drugs, a fortune lost or made, an engagement broken, a criminal indictment in the works. The most enticing appeared in her column with names in boldface. Occasionally she ran a blind item: “Who ducked out of Spago the other night rather than answer questions about the agreement in the works between his wife, his mistress and his two teenage children?” She was the sole arbiter of whether such questions ever were answered, or were left to dangle in the steamy air.
    By the time Luke met her, she divided her week between apartments in Los Angeles and New York, collecting tidbits about actors, actresses, directors and producers who now were scattered as widely as Aspen, the plains of Montana, and Sharon, Connecticut. She had never used an item about Luke.
    â€œWell, they did it again,” she said to him in the limousine, sliding along the leather seat until her thigh was against his. “You’d think they’d have some sense of responsibility.”
    â€œShould I know what you’re talking about?” he asked.
    â€œI did tell you. Joe and Ilene Fassbrough were quarreling at LAX when they came back from Europe; they fought all the way through customs. Well, last night they had a major blowup at Freddy Parkington’s dinner—stopped the entrée from being served for a good ten minutes—and then Joe actually told me I should ignore the whole thing, that he had the flu and was feverish and said a lot of things he didn’t mean. But these people have a responsibility, you know: the rest of the world looks up to them and sickness is no reason to absolutely lose your standards of behavior. If he really was sick. He looked fine to me. But of course men always look wonderful in tuxedos.”
    â€œDid you say he was sick in today’s column?”
    â€œOf course not; I said that he and Ilene stopped the entrée from being served. It’s a much livelier item, Luke, you know that; it would be a wonderful scene in a play. I wanted to say something about people who let down their social class by behaving badly, but that really doesn’t belong in the column. Maybe in The Sophisticate next month.”
    Luke sat back, his arm along the seat behind her shoulders. “What social class is this?”
    â€œOurs. Oh, Luke, don’t be tiresome. You know what I mean.”
    â€œYou mean that Joe and Ilene Fassbrough, who are two of the most asinine people I know, and dull besides, are role models for an upper class.”
    â€œThey spend a lot of money, people recognize them and like to be seen with them, and they’re invited everywhere. It’s more than upper class, Luke, it’s like royalty, if we had royalty. Well, we don’t, but Americans really would love it if we did—why else do you think every magazine with Charles and Di on the cover sells out in five minutes? Instead we have people like Joe and Ilene, who are movie stars and who do all those royal things like sponsoring benefits and getting their pictures in the paper and buying a lot of art. Readers love to read about them. And if you think they’re asinine and dull, why are you going to their house tomorrow night?”
    â€œA good question. They’ve invited a playwright from the former Yugoslavia; I’ve heard of him and I want to meet him.”
    â€œInvite him for dinner at your house.”
    â€œIt’s easier to meet him at the Fassbroughs’ and see if we have anything to talk about.”
    â€œWhy do you think they’re asinine and