Private affairs : a novel by Judith Michael Read Free Book Online Page A

Matt replied briefly.
    "My father was in Houston," said Tony. "Still is. I'm not." He leaned back in his chair, stretched out his legs in their perfectly pressed white duck pants, and accepted the glass of Mexican beer Elizabeth offered him. "I left Houston; I left my father. Left his business and his shadow and the reach of his long arm. Made my own fortune that has nothing to do with Keegan Rourke and owes nothing to him. I had to get out, you know, to survive. After eleven interminable years, I had to get out or be his little boy forever. And as Elizabeth knows, I am not the little boy type."

    After a moment, Matt said evenly, "You were telling me about your producer. And your interview with Sophia Loren."
    "So I was," said Tony, smoothly changing subjects. "A remarkable woman, magnificently beautiful, warm, earthy, honest. . . ."He broke off as Elizabeth brought to the table a platter of sopapilla rellenos, stuffed with meat, beans, and chile, and covered with cheese. "Elizabeth, I'm ashamed; you did make something special. You work too hard; I should have taken you to a restaurant."
    Matt's mouth tightened and Elizabeth said quickly, "I didn't want to go to a restaurant; I wanted to eat right here. And I would love to hear about your producer and Sophia Loren."
    "In a minute." Tony dug into the rellenos. "Incredible. What a marvelous cook you are, Elizabeth." Between bites he told them anecdotes about his producer, and some of his guests, bringing reluctant chuckles from Matt and laughter from Elizabeth. "Could I have another one of these?" he asked after a while. "Or even two? I don't want to be greedy—"
    "No one could accuse you of that," said Matt blandly.
    Tony smiled. "I pride myself on never going after anything that truly belongs to someone else."
    "An interesting rule," Matt observed with an edge in his voice. "People who talk about priding themselves on it are usually the ones who pride themselves on violating it."
    Tony gave him a sharp look. "I've noticed that people with injuries tend to be bad-tempered. It's good to see you've avoided that, Matt."
    "Oh, why don't both of you just eat?" Elizabeth said in exasperation. She handed Tony the platter. "Help yourself. As much as you want."
    "Thank you," he said meekly. "Well, you wanted to hear about Sophia. My producer wanted me to zero in on her fantasies, get her to describe them; you know producers are voyeurs, all of them. But I'll tell you something, if you won't laugh at me." He gave a small smile, like a little boy afraid to give himself away, but at the same time wanting to share a secret. In spite of himself, Matt was drawn to him, and impressed. No wonder the guy was a success. How the hell did he get all that into one smile—and almost fool Matt Lovell, who couldn't stand having him around, who kept hearing echoes of that smooth voice saying / left my father. Left his business. Had to get out to survive.
    "No, you wouldn't laugh," Tony went on, almost to himself. "I'll tell you: I was so awed by Sophia—how beautiful and generous she was, helping make my show better—that I could barely ask her anything, much less about her fantasies. In fact, I was having a few of my own." He gave a small laugh, asking Matt and Elizabeth to share a joke on himself.

    "Of course, it's no secret that I'm interested in women: their sexual fantasies, longings, dreams, and the way they act them out"—Matt shot an involuntary look at Elizabeth; he knew Tony saw it, but Tony went on without a pause—"and my audience wants to know about them, too, but they're dying to know all of it: what weaknesses celebrities have, what they're faking or hiding, the skeletons in their closets, the tender touches that make them human and frail when they want to seem untouchable, above all of us. ..."
    He's forty-six, Matt thought, and doing exactly what he was dreaming of when Elizabeth knew him in Los Angeles. He's got it all: money, fame, success—and he's had them for ten