Heaven's Price Part 15

"Lesson number two . . . is that . . . there are other ways we can love . . . each other." His mouth and hands worked together to bring her to a pitch of desire more transporting than she had known before.

Her own whimpering pleas thrummed through her head as her fingers dug into the muscles of his back. "Are you . . . willing to . . . learn a . . . few?"

The lessons continued all night.

"This isn't going to work," Sean mumbled out of the side of his mouth.

"It's not going to work if you don't sit still." The tiny silver scissors in her hands clipped away an errant whisker. "If you can sit and bug me while I put on my make-up every morning, the least you can do is let me trim your mustache."

He caught her wrist. "But you might trim off more than I'd like."

"I wouldn't cut off one precious whisker that wasn't absolutely necessary." The last word dissolved against his mouth as she leaned down to kiss it softly. He muttered disagreeably when she straightened and raised the scissors again.

When the telephone in the bedroom rang, he sprang from the small vanity stool supporting him, and chortled, "Saved by the bell." He dashed from the room and left her with a satisfied, happy smile on her face.

"Blair, it's for you," he called.

She could read the puzzlement on his face as he extended her the telephone. To her silent query, he shrugged. "h.e.l.lo."

"Blair, I've been trying to reach you since sunup. Where are you and who was that?"

"Barney?" she cried incredulously. The last person she would have thought to hear from was her agent. She had sadly told him not to call her until she had notified him that she had been granted a clean bill of health. He had cursed, paced, ranted and raved, and then treated her to a lunch at which they both got methodically sloshed in order to drown their remorse. "How did you" "Pam Delgado. After I traced you through directory a.s.sistance for new listings and after I spent hours listening to an unanswered ring, I thought to call her. She said you might be at this number. Who's the guy? Never mind. Are you sitting down?"

As usual Barney's subjects changed direction with the speed of a ricocheting bullet. She had grown accustomed to his hyperactivity and hectic pace since he had become her agent seven years ago, but two months out of the city had slowed down her reflexes and she found herself struggling to keep up with him.

"No, I'm not sitting down, what?" "How would you like to be in the new show Joel Grey's starring in?"

For a moment her brain didn't register a thing. Then it went into overtime, thoughts racing by so fast, she couldn't grasp them.

"What. . . that show's already been cast."

"Yeah, but five of the dancers got kicked out over union disputes or something . . . h.e.l.l, I don't know. What difference does it make?

The director called this morning, at an unG.o.dly hour by the way, and asked for you.

"He asked for me?" Her hand flew up to still the thudding of her heart.

"Well, sort of," Barney hedged in agent fashion. "He said he needed to see my best girls and you're certainly one.

"Yes, but," "You're in the big time again, Blair." He gave her the time of the audition and the address of the rehearsal hall where it was to be.

"Get your dancing shoes on, soft shoes they said and get your b.u.t.t on the next train to the city. By the way, you may have to sing a song, but you can fake it. Just give them volume."

Sean had pulled on a pair of jeans and a work shirt. Now he was sitting on the edge of the bed they had made up together, staring at her like a conscience incarnate. Caught up now in Barney's excitement, she averted her head. "Do you really think I can do it, Barney?"

"Of course. You're the best."

"I'm not too old for the chorus?"

"I'm too old for dumb questions. Call me when you get to the city."

The phone buzzed dead in her ears. She put it back in its cradle, staring at it a moment while she ticked off the things she had to do before boarding the train. She only had an hour or two. "What's up?"

She jumped when Sean's voice broke into her whirling thoughts. "An audition," she said excitedly. She paraphrased what Barney had told her.

"You're going?" he asked, a trace of disbelief in his voice.

"Of course I'm going," she said defensively. "This is a tremendous break in my career."

"Um-huh. You might also get a tremendous break in one of your legs."

He was saying exactly what she didn't want to hear. Why couldn't he be glad for her? "I won't. I danced the other night. My legs have never felt better."

"You got lucky."

"They're healed!" she shouted.

"Then you shouldn't mind seeing the doctor before you go to that audition. I'll take you."

"I haven't got time," she said, heading for the door and then rushing down the stairs, ignoring the twinge of pain that caused in her knees.

"And I don't need you to take me anywhere. I can find my way around the city."

She heard Sean's curse as he tramped down the stairs after her.

"Blair, think for G.o.dsakes. I know this could be a big opportunity, but if you get in a show, you'll be doing day-long rehearsals and"

"I know what doing a show involves and I can't wait to get back to it."

He was close on her heels as she crossed the yard and climbed the stairs to the garage apartment. When she went through the door, he followed.

She turned to bar his progress any farther. "If you'll excuse me," she said coolly.

Undaunted he continued. "Ifyou won't think of your own health, think of your obligations here."

She laughed. "Oh, come on, Sean. No one will remember me a week after I leave," she said, spreading her hands wide. "Those little dancing cla.s.ses don't mean anything."

His jaw hardened to stone. "Maybe not to you, Miss Simpson, but those little cla.s.ses' mean a h.e.l.luva lot to the ladies who attend them.

They mean even more to the little girls. You yourself said some of them show real promise. Mandy Delgado for instance. How are you going to tell her you won't be around to coach her anymore?"

His arguments struck her harder than she wanted him to know. "Her talent's inherited from Pam. Anyone could coach Mandy."

"But you'd be the best for her and you d.a.m.n well know it."

"All I d.a.m.n well know is that you're keeping me from getting ready for my audition."

"And you'll just leave, drop the cla.s.ses?"

"Everyone knew they were only going to last for six months at the most," she screamed. "What's the matter? Are you sorry now you made such a heavy investment in the building?"

The lines around his mouth went white and two spots of high color rose to his cheeks. His eyes narrowed as he surveyed her scornfully. She thought he might very well hit her with one of the tight fists clenched at his thighs.

Without another word, he spun around and slammed out the door, rattling the window panes.

Three hours later found Blair standing outside the door of the rehearsal hall. Through it she could hear the ch.o.r.eographer calling out the steps of the dance he would teach to those auditioning for the five coveted parts. The piano was as out of tune as any in a dance rehearsal hall, though the song being played was familiar to her.

Despite her angry quarrel with Sean, she had managed to pull herself together and drive Pam's car to the train station in time to catch the next train. Still wearing the scarf that hid her hair curlers, she had taken a taxi to the appointed building at Broadway and West 73rd.

She had brushed out her hair in the ladies room downstairs where she changed from her summer skirt and blouse into her leotard and tights.

Not wanting to admit how one encouraging word, one good luck wish, one supportive kiss from Sean would have made this much easier after her involuntary sabbatical, she turned the rusty doork.n.o.b and went into the hall.

if l il:: v a atr! My G.o.d, vvhata happeneS?" Pam "JkeS rn a rzmh of words. She had answered the tapping knock on the front door to see her best friend standing on the threshold, tears pouring down her cheeks from red, swollen eyes, her eye make-up smudged by previous tears. Her shoulders were hunched forward in a self-protective slump.

"Is Sean here? That's his truck."

"Yes, he's here working on the room, but," "I don't want him to see me like this, but I have to talk to you."

"Come on in," Pam said quickly. She hustled Blair through the door and then down the narrow hallways of the house to the back bedroom she shared with Joe. "The baby's in his crib. The others are out playing.

Andrew's with Sean. Hopefully no one will bother us for awhile."

She closed the door behind them and sank onto the bed beside Blair who was already there, bent almost double and sobbing.

For the time being Pam didn't try to stop the tears. Whatever had happened at that audition, Blair would have to tell in her own good time. When Sean had arrived to work on their room addition, his face dark, his eyes stormy, Pam had bravely asked him if Barney had reached Blair. He snarled an affirmative, then went on in the most blasphemous terms Pam had ever heard come out of his mouth about what he thought of Barney, the audition, and a woman who was too stubbornly obsessed to know what was good for her.

"I take it you don't approve of her going back to the city and even auditioning for a part."

"d.a.m.n right!" he roared. "She could end up a cripple.

Well, Blair had walked into the house under her own power, so Pam didn't think her trauma was physical, but whatever it was, it was having a devastating effect. She rubbed Blair's back soothingly, as she would do to one of her children. The words she crooned were sympathetic.

The wracking sobs finally began to subside.

"Tell me about it, Blair." Her voice was soft, comforting.

Tear-bloated eyes were raised to Pam's. Trembling lips were stilled by being pressed together hard until they turned white. Then, shuddering in her effort to regain self-control, Blair said in a barely discernible croak, "I didn't make it."

Pam masked her sigh of relief. She felt just as Sean did that the last thing Blair should do was go back to work before her knees were sufficiently knit. She knew the grueling punishment of dancing every day for hours at a time. If Blair were ever to dance professionally again, she had to give her body time to regenerate.

"Did your knees give out?"

Blair shook her head. "No, Pam, that's just it. I warmed up well, I danced better than I ever have. Ever. I put everything I had into that audition, and . .." She drew in another shuddering breath to ward off an attack of tears. "My limited singing ability didn't count against me.

None of the others could sing well either. The ch.o.r.eographer and the producer narrowed it down from about fifty to eight of us. I knesv I had made it. I couldn't miss. I had more experience, more credits. I danced flawlessly. I was animated. But I was a good five years older than the oldest of the others. When the ch.o.r.eographer named the five who made it, I wasn't among them."

"Oh, Blair, darling, you know that rejection at an audition doesn't mean anything. It just wasn't your show. You've been x-ed from auditions dozens of times. There'll be others."

Blair laughed ruefully. "I wish I could believe that, but I don't.

I had to make this one to survive. Don't ask me how I know that, I just do." She squeezed Pam's hands hard. "I danced so well, Pam. I S.".

"Much as I sympathize, I hope you didn't hurt yourself," Pam said worriedly. "Do your legs hurt?"

Blair shrugged. "A little. No more than usual."

Pam broached the next subject tentatively. "Sean was worried sick about you. He was pawing the ground like a bull, but he was scared silly you'd fall or that you'd hurt yourself and wind up in the hospital."

Blair scoffed. "He was only angry because I didn't heed his unsolicited advice." Her lips began to tremble again. "When I could have used his encouragement the most, he yelled at me. So much for developing relationships. I guess I'll go down as another notch on his belt.

I'm sure I meant no more to him than that anyway."

"Don't say such a stupid thing. It makes me angry, Blair. For once will you open your eyes?" Pam shouted.

Blair looked up in amazement. She'd never, in all the years they'd been friends, heard such censure in her friend's voice. "The guy's in love with you. Crazy in love with you. And if you were smart, which I seriously doubt, you'd pay attention to him when he tells you he is.

He was out of his mind with worry for you, not if you'd make the d.a.m.ned audition, but if you'd survive it. He and I agree that your health is more important whether you think so or not. He was so upset he called George Silverton just to-" "George Silverton!" Blair interrupted with an exclamation. "The producer of the .hou J, Georye Silverton?" She came flying off the bed.

Pam was startled by Blair's sudden return to life.

She took a step backward and answered cautiously, "Yes."

"And how does Sean Garrett know George Silverton?" Blair demanded.

Pam moistened her lips nervously. Had she opened a can of worms? She didn't like the icy glaze that was forming over Blair's green eyes or the ramrod straightness of her back. "He . . . he, uh, did a house for him last year.

They became fairly good buddies, I think, and- " "Never mind," Blair said, dashing for the door and flinging it open. She barreled down the hall with Pam rapidly stumbling after her.

"Blair, wait. Don't go off half-c.o.c.ked. He-" "I know what he did,"

she shouted over her shoulder. She cursed the tricky latch on the patio door before it gave way. Then like a trooper in some vengeful army, she marched across the patio and stepped through the framework of the new room.

Sean was standing straddle-legged hammering long nails into a two-by-four. He swiveled his head around when he heard her scrambling through the open wall. Several nails were protruding from his lips.

Andrew, who was a.s.sisting his idol, looked up with a broad grin that dissipated to a frown of apprehension when he saw that his first true love was bristling with fury.

"I want to talk to you," Blair announced in a tightly controlled voice.

Without haste, Sean took the nails out of his mouth. "Not now, I'm busy."

"Now!" she shouted, stamping her foot.

Sean's brows lowered dangerously over the glittering eyes. "I'm busy,"

he repeated in biting tones. "Besides that I don't think this is the time or place for us to air our differences.

"I don't give a d.a.m.n what you think or who hears us."