Chapter 4: Goodnight to Gossip

}0{

Rachel had chosen the perfect spot for dinner: The Gandy Dancer Saloon. Attached to the Grand Concourse, it was a short walking distance from the Sheraton. The atmosphere was more laid back for such a pricey spot, she thought, but she figured Farmer would feel more comfortable there.

They chatted casually for a while, catching one another up on their latest endeavors. After the second course, topics began to get a bit heavier. At some point – Rachel wasn't sure how – they'd come around to talking about Frank's divorce.

He scowled all while listening to Rachel recount the gossip she'd heard about him and his ex-wife. Finally when she'd finished, he spoke flatly, "That's not what happened."

She shrugged. "That's just what I was told."

He took a drink. "I'm surprised at you, Rachel. As a celebrity, you should be the first to know that gossip is never the full truth."

"I didn't say I believed it," she defended. "I just said it's what I heard."

He let out a tense sort of half-laugh and glanced at the ceiling before staring down at the table, deep in thought. Then after a few moments of silence he revealed, "I found out she had already started IVF behind my back."

Rachel tilted her head in confusion.

Frank lowered his voice and further explained, "I came home early from a shift one day. She didn't know I was in the house. I overheard her talking to the sperm bank."

"Jesus, Frank!"

"I know."

"Women are psychos when it comes to babies!" Rachel said, agitated further when she recalled the topic of babies coming up at her lunch with Tina earlier that day.

Frank didn't seem to know how to respond to her exclamation, so he continued idly swiping his finger up and down his glass, gathering the condensation.

"How did she think she was gonna get away with that?" Rachel asked incredulously. "Isn't IVF where you have to take those huge-ass shots?"

Frank just stared at her, looking extremely uncomfortable. He took another drink of his beer, and Rachel took it as a signal that he wasn't going to reply.

"And the money?" Rachel added. "How would she have hidden that from you?"

He shifted in his seat. "Apparently a rich friend of hers had agreed to give her a loan."

"So you left her after you found all this out?"

"Yeah, but it wasn't that simple."

"Oh, it never is."

"No, I mean I had been wanting to leave her for a while before it all came out."

Rachel was ashamed of the swell of pleasure she felt upon hearing this. She leaned in ever so slightly, inviting him to elaborate.

After yet another swig of beer, he said, "I think she only married me for my money."

Rachel suppressed an irreverent giggle. It hadn't occurred to her before that to the majority of women, Farmer's multiple six-figure salary would be outrageously appealing. To Rachel, his income meant nothing. It was a drop in the bucket. In fact, it used to come right out of her bucket.

He continued after a pause, "She claimed she didn't know she had fertility issues. But I believe she'd known before she even started dating me."

"She wanted to marry rich so she'd have a way to pay for treatments?" Rachel gathered.

He nodded grimly, inspecting her face for her reaction.

"I told you women are psychotic," she said with a small smile, wagging her head from side to side.

His eyes said it all. So you're saying you are psychotic?

"I'm the queen of the psychos," Rachel said proudly, arms outstretched.

He chuckled a bit, but it didn't touch his eyes.

"Well, you must have loved her at one point if you agreed to marry her," Rachel surmised casually, hoping to get more details out of him.

He didn't answer right away, but when he did, his voice was full of surprising conviction. "You know what I've realized? People behave a certain way when they first meet someone, and then slowly over time they reveal who they really are."

"I don't think that applies to me," Rachel said pointedly.

He had opened his mouth to continue speaking, but stopped in his tracks when he realized the truth in her words. "No. You were a bitch to me from the start," he said with a wicked smile.

"You bastard."

Finally, she heard it. The full belly laugh she'd been chasing the entire night. He either had just enough alcohol to let his guard down, or she'd worked her magic. Maybe a combination of both.

}0{

After dinner they ventured out into the chilly night air. There were very few people walking outside, being that it was already quite dark and it was a weeknight. Rachel was relieved, knowing it would be less likely anyone would recognize her. She wouldn't have gone out with just anyone, of course. Farmer may not have worked for her anymore, but she was certain he'd take another bullet for her if he had to. She pushed down the guilt she felt at that wayward thought.

As they continued walking in comfortable silence they came across a long pathway that followed the line of the river. It was a faintly lit path, lacking in landscape – a simple series of stripes - pavement, iron fence, railroad, river.

The view was spectacular. Her hometown city was not as impressive in size as others she'd seen before, but it was majestic in its own right. Its main skyscrapers were confined to a triangular point where the three rivers met, and the lights from the buildings scattered like magic dust along the rippling waters. Rachel thought it had an unassuming charm and beauty to it.

"You ever been to this place?" Rachel asked him, leaning up against the iron railing.

He glanced at her. "Pittsburgh? Yeah it was a stone's throw away from WVU." His eyes wandered to the city again, tinted by nostalgia. "We used to rent vans on the weekends to tailgate for the Steelers games. Of course that was back when they were the real Steel Curtain."

"The stadium looks different now." Rachel gestured toward the football field with her head, causing her black curls to bounce.

He nodded. "They just rebuilt it. It was Three Rivers Stadium when you lived here. Now it's called Heinz Field."

Rachel sighed. "Well I don't know much about football, but maybe you could teach me. After all, you are a legendary wide receiver."

Frank gave her a look, which she didn't acknowledge. Instead, she shook her head incredulously. "What the hell is a wide receiver anyway?"

He smirked. "I caught the ball and I ran with it."

Rachel smiled her signature charming smile. "You got a lot of touchdowns, I bet."

His eyes changed ever so slightly upon noticing the throatiness in her tone. "I think you know more about football than you claim to," he concluded.

She giggled and began to walk briskly ahead of him, grasping each iron post and swinging about like a child as she went. "Well, your dad certainly bragged enough about your athletic skills to me." She looked over at him. "By the way, how is your dad?"

Frank lifted his chin slightly and stared straight ahead. "He passed away in '95."

Rachel stopped walking and put her hand over her mouth.

Frank added quietly, "Truck accident."

"Oh, Frank," she murmured, "I'm so sorry."

He shrugged. "Not as tragic as it sounds. His last words to me on his death bed were, 'you still got good genes, son.'"

Rachel smiled sadly at him. She could see the fondness in his eyes.

"He was a good man, your dad," she said. "I'll never forget his kindness."

When they made it to the back entrance of the Sheraton, she noticed that the ballroom doors to the outside terrace had been left ajar, and through the small sliver of opening, she could tell there was a wedding going on inside.

"Kinda weird to have a wedding on a weeknight," she mused.

"Cheapskates," Frank shrugged. Rachel let out an unladylike guffaw.

The distant echo of applause followed what she'd assumed was a toast, and then a familiar melody floated through the cold air to her ears: "Stranger in Paradise" sung by Tony Bennett.

She didn't believe it at first when she felt Frank's hand sneak around her back, and before she knew it, she was facing him, chest pressed against his as he began to slow dance with her. There was something beautiful about the idea that the last time they'd danced together it was because she had asked him to dance. This time, without any words at all, he'd asked her.

It didn't matter how cold it was, or how much the wind made her lose feeling in her ears and nose. If she was with him, she wouldn't complain. It seemed impossible that her feelings for him could have grown so much over such a long time apart. If she was being honest with herself, she had thought of him every day, but she tried not to become a slave to it. This man had saved her life. That was the reason he had left such an impact on her. It had nothing to do with the way he looked at her, or the way he spoke to her, or the way he treated her. It had nothing to do with the fact that no other man had ever been so invested in her safety and well-being. Surely it had nothing to do with those things.

"Feels like yesterday we were dancing just like this at that country bar," she reminisced.

"At least this song isn't depressing," he said with a smile.

She shook her head slowly. "I made that old cowboy song famous, Farmer, don't even deny it."

"I wouldn't dare."

About thirty seconds passed where they allowed the lyrics of another song to hold significance between them, and during an instrumental pause, Rachel admitted, "I think of you every time I sing it."

She did not expect him to return the admission. But with a raspy voice and inebriating eye contact, he did. "I think of you every time I hear it."

With one final turn in his arms, Tony Bennett's voice faded into the night. The song was shorter than she'd remembered, or maybe it was because she didn't want the moment to end. Staring up into Frank's eyes was something of a pastime Rachel realized she never wanted to give up.

She was being spoiled, spending so much time with him here. That was a high she wasn't looking forward to coming down from after her trip was over.

His eyes only broke their contact with her when he heard voices up by the open doors. "I think they're coming out for pictures," he said warily, using it as an excuse to guide her back inside.

While Rachel was grateful to be back in the warmth of the hotel lobby, she was sad to leave behind what might have promised to be a very revealing conversation. If only they had a little more time. . .

Frank never seemed able to relax for very long. As soon as they entered the hotel, his body became rigid with tension, and his expression was again stony and impassive as he glanced around the lobby. His eyes were somehow able to look in forty different directions all in a matter of seconds. Rachel sometimes imagined that Frank's vision operated like the Terminator, with hundreds of tiny vector lines and calculations, identifying suspicious targets from across the room.

She walked alongside him as they approached the elevator, wishing she could hold his hand. Were they even at a point where such a gesture would be reciprocated? He had just slow danced with her outside, and yet she felt it would be forward to hold hands with him. Why was the act of holding hands so intimate, anyhow? Rachel could recall holding hands with maybe three men out of the dozens she'd slept with. It was sort of backwards when she really thought about it.

If it hadn't been for the other people walking around, she would have done it. Despite never having discussed public displays of affection before, Rachel was fairly certain that Farmer wasn't a fan.

He stopped in front of the elevator and pushed the button. While they waited for the doors to open, he asked to see her mobile phone.

"Why? Checking to see if I got any naughty pics?" she teased.

He just stared at her, palm out. She gave in without a fight, deep down knowing the reason he had requested it.

He didn't say a word as he quickly typed in his contact information and sent himself a text so that he would have hers. Rachel's heartbeat escalated with every swift tap of his thumb over the buttons. That was a signal, wasn't it? Maybe he was ready for hand holding after all, she thought to herself. He slipped his hand beneath her jacket to put her phone back into her pocket. She peeked up at him from under her lashes just as the elevator opened.

They both stepped inside and waited for the doors to close.

He lingered by the control board after hitting the button for his floor. She was a bit surprised when he didn't ask for her floor. Maybe he wasn't planning on letting her up to her floor. She hoped that was the case.

The silence was deafening as Rachel closed the distance between them. His body heat alone filled her with a hunger she did not recognize. The feeling she felt when she was this close to him - it could not be compared to any other feeling. It was, in a way, beyond sexual. She felt safe and protected, yet also exhilarated. It was electrifying.

The thrumming force of the elevator beneath them almost made her lose her balance. She shyly gathered the lapel of his jacket between her fingers and nudged her forehead lightly against his jaw. Though neither of them spoke, her suggestion was loud and clear. Seconds later, his hand had firmly wrapped around her waist, pulling her against him.

In an uncharacteristic way, Rachel felt submissive. And even more remarkable, she felt content with her submissiveness. Her lips had just barely grazed his neck when the bell-like ping of the elevator startled them both apart.

Rachel couldn't quite collect her bearings before Pettigrew had stepped inside. "Rachel, I've been looking for you." The moment he saw who she was with, his entire demeanor changed from casual to one of cautious surprise. "Farmer," he stated tensely.

Thankfully, Frank adjusted much more quickly in these scenarios than Rachel did. "It was my fault she was out this late. We just got back from dinner." He smiled warmly at her bodyguard. "Just catching up."

Rachel licked her lips nervously, avoiding eye contact with either man. At last the elevator pinged again, this time on Frank's floor. "I'm sure I'll see you both around tomorrow," he said before exiting into the hall. "Goodnight," he murmured, his careful eyes lingering on Rachel for the smallest fraction of a second.

Even though nothing had happened, Rachel felt completely winded. She tapped the button for her floor and stepped back as the doors closed again.

She could tell that Pettigrew was staring at her, but she pretended not to notice.

"You know, Rachel, you can't really hide anything from your bodyguard."

She glanced at him, challenging him to continue.

It was obvious he was holding together his best poker face. "If you and Farmer are … well, involved…" Rachel flinched. "...It's not my business, but I'd feel a hell of a whole lot more relieved if you were spending your evenings with him and not with someone we don't know."

The elevator doors opened again, and they both stepped onto the top floor together. "You've always given me my space, Scott," Rachel said diplomatically, "I appreciate that."

He stared intently at her. "I do believe in boundaries, but you know if you were going to run off to dinner with some other guy, you'd have to let me know, right?"

She eyed him curiously for a moment before she turned to walk slowly back to her room. He followed closely beside her. She spoke quietly, "Am I hearing you correctly, that you'll turn a blind eye so long as I'm with Farmer?"

"Rachel," Scott sighed, stopping as they arrived at her door. "The last time I saw the two of you together, you were sucking face on the tarmac." He smiled ironically at her raised eyebrows. "I'm not stupid, and I'm not blind."

Rachel tilted her head, considering his rather forward implications. "Then you won't mind if I cut off your services after ten P.M. going forward on this trip," she supplied casually.

"You won't need two armed guards on duty all night, will you?"

}0{

Rachel slept restlessly that night. At 6:15 A.M., she heard a knock on her door. Assuming it was Devaney impatiently awaiting his breakfast partner, she stumbled out of bed, half-asleep, and opened the door, ready to tear him a new one.

"Oh. My. God!" a shrill female voice greeted her, and Rachel thought she might have been dreaming. Three women who looked to be in their early thirties were huddled outside the door to her suite, holding their cell phones out to take pictures. "We heard you were staying here! We've been knocking on every door on this floor hoping we'd find you! Can we take a picture?"

At a loss for words, Rachel barely had enough time to rub the sleep from her eyes before the shortest woman stepped in front of her and snapped a picture of them both. "Shelby!" one of her friends berated, "I thought we were all gonna get a group picture with her!"

"And I thought I told you all to stop knocking on the doors!" Scott's voice boomed from down the hall. The young women all awkwardly backed away from Rachel's door as her bodyguard approached. Embarrassed, they murmured apologetically and scurried off toward the elevators.

"Sorry about that," Scott told Rachel. "They knocked on my door a few minutes ago, and I thought I'd scared them straight."

Rachel shook her head, still shaken from the strange interaction. "What kind of grown women act that way?"

Scott chuckled. "Rabid fans. We've seen worse."

"It's been pretty bad here, hasn't it?" Rachel sighed.

Scott nodded. "It's your hometown. It's harder for you to hide here."

Rachel leaned against the door jamb. "How'd they find out what floor I was on?" she asked.

"I think they know the receptionist," Scott said. "I'm having a word with her when I get downstairs."

Rachel smirked. "I'm sure you will."

She closed the door and went back to bed.

About ten minutes later, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw who the message was from.

Heard your room number got leaked.

Rachel couldn't help but grin despite how angry she was under the circumstances.

Are you the culprit, Farmer?

She waited with bated breath for him to reply.

How could I be? I don't know your room number.

She shook her head.

Bullshit. You know everything.

His final response was short: I'm flattered.

Rachel tossed herself back into the pillows and giggled to herself. What beautifully scandalous dream was she in where she was getting bombarded by adoring fans at six in the morning and sending flirty texts back and forth with Frank Farmer?

Just then she heard another knock on her door.

Still on edge from her last experience, Rachel cautiously peered through the peep-hole. It was Tina.

"Please don't tell me you told those girls what room I was in!" Rachel scolded as she opened the door.

Tina looked startled and confused. "What girls?" She looked up and down the hallway. "I came up to bring you a coffee!"

"Oh, thank God," Rachel sighed, accepting the hot drink from her friend without further question. She dragged Tina inside her room and guided her to sit on the bed with her.

"What are you wearing?" Rachel asked, noticing that Tina's legs were bare beneath her green robe.

Tina opened her robe to reveal a dark blue swimsuit. "I was just down at the pool for my morning laps."

"Jesus, is everyone here a morning person except for me?" Rachel moaned.

"You should come with me tomorrow morning! It'll be fun!"

Rachel chugged her coffee. "No thanks, I have a bathtub up here."

"I saw your boyfriend down there this morning," Tina said with a smile.

Rachel squinted at her suspiciously. "Farmer was at the pool?"

"He wasn't swimming," Tina clarified with a giggle. "He came in for a few seconds. Full suit and tie. Kind of lurking around, checking doors and all that."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Still doing his fucking perimeter checks."

"He was kind of sweaty, too . . ." Tina added in a suggestive tone.

Rachel ignored the butterflies in her stomach and said flippantly, "Indoor pools are humid, Tina."

"So maybe you will come swimming with me tomorrow morning?"

"You're not gonna get me up before seven A.M. just to see that man sweat in a suit," Rachel said harshly.

"No, I'm sure you could make him sweat any time of day," Tina replied with a sweet smile.

Rachel tried not to look too smug as she glanced down at her phone where their text exchange still glowed faintly on the open screen. She snapped her phone shut and glared at her friend. "I'll go with you to the pool this afternoon. Leisure swim only. No laps. And no playing matchmaker."

}0{

After lunch, Rachel fulfilled her promise to Tina as they walked to the indoor pool together. When she was younger, it used to be something of a forbidden thrill walking around in her robe and sandals through a nice hotel with mostly people in full dress suits surrounding her. Now at her age, it felt a little awkward. Aging was not very fun.

Pettigrew had promised to linger around the doors to the pool for some time before they were set to arrive. They'd hoped to avoid any more interactions like the one they'd suffered through earlier that morning.

"Oh, God, he's here again!" Tina said excitedly, nudging Rachel as she spotted Farmer with another man by the entrance to the hall.

"Of course he is," Rachel sighed. "I'm convinced that man has unlocked the secret to teleportation."

To Rachel's surprise, Tina stopped walking and almost stumbled backwards. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked her friend.

Tina rubbed her neck furiously, her eyes darting around. "I don't know, I'm nervous."

Rachel snorted softly and pushed her forward. Frank watched them approach, still in conversation with the man beside him. Rachel met his eyes without hesitation, channeling all of her grace and confidence in one look. To her surprise, it was the older man beside Frank who broke the conversation to make a comment. "I may have to find some time to go for a swim myself."

Frank looked at the ground then, clearly uncomfortable. Hell, was it a requirement for all politicians to be this sleazy?

Rachel didn't let the man's forward comment deter her. "So, we'll see you at the pool?" she asked in her most sultry voice. Frank looked up, mortified beyond reason. She almost laughed as she glanced over to see that Tina's cheeks were now neon red.

"Honey, you can see me anywhere you want," the older man said, all but licking his lips.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Rachel placed her hand delicately over her neck. "I wasn't asking you." She looked pointedly at Frank, who stared back at her like a deer caught in the headlights.

As she'd grown to expect of him, he was quick on his feet. "I'm a bodyguard, not a lifeguard."

"Could've fooled me," Rachel murmured as they sauntered past him. The man beside Frank appeared livid.

Once they were safe at the end of the hallway, Tina began to hyperventilate. "Rachel! I swear to God, I almost died."

"Still got it," Rachel said half to herself, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the glass wall as they walked into the humid entryway.

The pool was empty save for one man who was doing laps on the far end. Tina and Rachel disrobed and slowly stepped down into the warm water, still laughing about their awkward interaction in the hall.

"Rachel Marron," a savory male voice drawled out her name from across the pool. Rachel froze in place, glancing over her shoulder to see whose it was.

Brock Chutney, a fellow actor-singer with whom she'd had a brief affair several years ago, smirked haughtily at her while treading water a few feet away. Tina pursed her lips, clearly aware there was some tension between the two.

Rachel audibly groaned. "Here for the Sugarplum Shitshow, Brock?"

He swam over to them. "I've done every Christmas Special on the Eastern seaboard since '91," he bragged, swiping a large hand through his jet black hair.

"You say that like it's something to be proud of," Rachel retorted, looking down her nose at him.

He ignored her comment and looked her up and down. "So what little number can I expect to see you perform this weekend?" he asked her suggestively.

"I'm stuck with 'Santa Baby.'" Rachel rolled her eyes. "You?"

"'Silent Night,'" he said with a grin. "The opposite of the last night we spent together."

Rachel shuddered and swam away from him. How she'd ever thought of him as attractive was beyond her. Tina casually covered her face with one hand. Rachel couldn't tell if she was laughing or blushing.

"Get your own zip code, Chutney," Rachel muttered, splashing water in his direction. He unfortunately took her standoffishness as flirting and splashed her back. The horseplay continued until Rachel stumbled her way up the pool steps in an effort to escape him.

He gave an obnoxious whistle as Rachel stepped out of the pool. "Lookin' good, baby."

Tina had almost managed to pull him back into the water by his ankles, but he narrowly escaped and followed Rachel to the lounge chair where she'd left her belongings.

Thinking fast, Rachel reached into her purse.

"Did I wear you out already?" Brock asked, eyeing the small red inhaler she held in her hand.

"Hardly," Rachel replied before spraying him square in the eyes. He cursed loudly and fell backwards into the pool with a resounding splash.

}0{

After rinsing the chlorine off in the shower, Rachel saw the missed text which Frank had sent her just minutes after their brief interaction outside the pool.

You know that was Knox, right?

Rachel blanched in horror.