22.
"Ms. Blackwood, it's truly an honor to finally meet you in person!" exclaimed Niles excitedly as he met the tall, beautiful and fairly famous singer/actress/model/everything-else who had just walked into the Sheffield household that very Wednesday morning.
He appeared all googly-eyed and lovesick for he was secretly a tad smitten with Deborah. Niles held out his hand for Deborah to shake, while C.C. stood aside, a bit jealous and annoyed at how much Niles was star struck.
Frankly, C.C. wasn't all that impressed with Deborah Blackwood. Her revealing outfits made her look cheap and tawdry, not to mention her acting wasn't all that fabulous. However, she had to admit that if there were some well-known, good-looking people cast in this new musical, more of the public might be drawn to see it.
C.C. and Maxwell had hit a lot of bumps in the road with their past play and weren't very proud of it to say the least when it was finally finished. Not to mention, ticket sales were pathetic and lots of money and time was wasted and down the drain.
Debbie laughed haughtily, as if being drooled over was a usual daily ritual for her and was expected of people she came in contact with.
"Charmed, I'm sure," replied the woman, already bored and limply clasping Nile's hand.
Her voice was not very mature sounding and was of resemblance to a young girl's.
"For who are you here to see Madam?" asked Niles.
C.C. smacked Niles on the arm. "Who else bozo? Obviously Maxwell!"
C.C. grabbed the woman's arm and started to lead her out of the room after she announced, "Right this way…"
Deborah's salon-straight, long blonde hair flowed behind her with grace and sophistication. Meanwhile, C.C. cringed at her plastic surgery superstore beauty. Her nose had no bumps, her lips were perfectly plump, and her boobs had definitely been enlarged since that last Levis commercial she starred in…
"Well hello Ms. Blackwood, please take a seat," greeted Maxwell in his usual attractive and intelligent-sounding voice. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
He stuck his hand out toward her to shake her hand and she complied.
"The pleasure is all mine."
"Please, make yourself at home," he suggested, hinting toward the small sofa by the direction in which his hand was pointing.
And she did, plopping herself down on the loveseat and making herself very comfortable.
"Please, call me Deborah," she requested, but instead of it seeming friendly it had an evident seductive air about it that was directed mainly toward Max.
Maxwell unconsciously stared dreamily at her, as her looks did not fly past him completely.
She then proceeded to ask about the basic storyline of the play and got the script of the person she was trying out for.
After a few moments of private auditioning, Deborah proved to be talented, or at least in Maxwell's olive eyes. Not to mention, her good looks and fame would bring a much broader audience opening night and those others to follow. It would automatically guarantee a long run! Max didn't even ask C.C.'s opinion, for he suspected that she was truly amazed by Ms. Blackwood as it was. Too bad she really wasn't.
"Your acting is quite first-rate… you have the part of Isabella!" Maxwell congratulated her, after witnessing Deborah Blackwood's try-out.
C.C. lightly patted Debbie on the back—her own little way of saying she did an okay job, knowing full well Maxwell wouldn't be persuaded otherwise. Plus, she was certain to be reliable, and that was what they needed most since their last play. Back then, their lead had injured herself and quit, and they had to desperately run around and search for a replacement soon or their musical wouldn't show for another decade. Even thought they found another, the whole performance given was a complete failure and utter embarrassment. The show barely ran, but a few days.
"I'm going to enjoy working with you," commented Deborah, but then quickly added, "You both!"
Maxwell stood up to shake her hand, but hers was turned down as if she assumed he was going to kiss hers. Nevertheless, he shook it anyways, awkwardly clasping it in the position it was in. He was not one of those people comfortable being even semi-intimate with strangers—even if it was a woman who looked like her.
Deborah pulled back, not entirely disappointed from the looks of her mega-watt smile. Then again, who would be disappointed after winning a very prestigious part in a play that practically had a Tony in the bag?
He's a tad bit shy and reserved, but I can change that.
She gave Max a hug that was more of a quick squeeze, realizing that he wasn't going to take any initiative to get close to her, even if he did hug back. After letting go, she strutted over to the green leather loveseat and sat down with her legs crossed.
"Thank you, this really means a lot to me!" she said jubilantly, as she nodded and placed her hand over her heart.
A fisted hand was left resting on the right side of Debbie's face, her elbow on the armrest of the loveseat as she listened intently to Maxwell and C.C., or mostly Maxwell at least. It was also noticeable that she would ever so occasionally allow that hand to brush her cheek in a caressing way.
"What got you interested in this area of acting?" asked Maxwell, his attention all on Deborah.
"Broadway's always been a secret passion of mine really," confessed Debbie, her crystal blue eyes sparkling and gazing intently at Max. "Movies aren't as emotionally shaking and real as Broadway plays and musicals can be, you know. Plus all the singing and dancing really uplifts my spirit!"
What a bunch of crock! What a load of absolute bull! thought C.C. privately to herself.
Deborah Blackwood whipped out her compact out of her purse and began reapplying her make-up. She started off by first smoothing a concealer stick underneath her eyes and then rubbing it in.
The door of the office suddenly opened and Fran appeared.
"Miss Fine, what did I say about this being a private meeting?" asked Maxwell, rather annoyed.
Fran gave a quick, non-meticulous glance over to the tiny sofa and then swung her hand around to reveal that she was holding a relatively small box.
"Oh, well this package was just delivered an—" Fran started to say as she handed Maxwell the little cardboard box, but as she looked over again to the person sitting on the loveseat, she instantly became mute in surprise.
The room took on a deathly silence and all that could be heard was the abrupt closure of Deb's powder compact. Who quickly threw it back in the top opening of her brown buckled purse and jumped up out of the seat on which she was sitting.
"Fran?!" gasped Deborah, squinting her eyes, moving closer to Fran and then cocking her head.
"Yes… yes, it's unmistakable—Fran Fine!" she concluded, thoughtfully grasping her chin and then letting her hand flick off to the side and then back to rest against her cheek.
Debbie recognized her at once and her jaw dropped dangerously low. "Oh God! I never thought I'd run into you again… what a delight!"
Fran grinned awkwardly and then tilted her head a tad bit, furrowing her brow. She had to carefully analyze the movie star to see if she was right.
"Deb-borraaah?!" greeted Fran, still somewhat unsure if her memory was serving her correct.
"Mmmhmm… So Frannie, whatcha been up to?" asked Deb, wondering and twirling a stray strand of hair around her finger.
"Nothing much, I—" started Fran, but she was interrupted by Maxwell.
"Miss Fine, you know Deborah Blackwood personally?!" questioned Max, fairly impressed. "I wasn't aware you two ladies were acquaintances."
Good. He calls her Miss and by her last name… they can't be too close, thought Deborah to herself.
"No, she just happened to have a lucky guess at my name," said Fran sarcastically. "Of course we both know each other, Mr. Sheffield!"
Fran was still infuriated at Maxwell for the way he had ran out on her the other day without explaining himself.
"You could say we go way back. Old friends," further explained Deborah.
"Well, well well…" responded C.C., rather astonished, then again, they both dressed relatively similar—Deborah's outfits just cost more.
C.C. and Niles were standing off to the corner of the room.
"Should have guessed… they both probably used to run a call-girl business," murmured C.C. to Niles, hitting her elbow into his arm as she knew he would find it funny.
"How did you both meet up?" questioned Maxwell.
Deborah glared at Fran hard, almost as if telepathically trying to inform her not to say too much. Fran stared back, sending her own similar wish across.
"We both used to work at a night club in Cali," answered Fran.
"Miss Fine, you never told me you used to live in California," remarked Maxwell.
"Yeah, well I moved there a few years after high school. I wanted to get away from everything and be somewhere new. It was only for a short time."
"Short, but memorable… soooooo speaking of such, are you seeing anyone lately?" questioned Debbie, innocently.
Maxwell leaned back in his chair, carefully listening to the intriguing ladies' conversation. Of course, any woman would be interested in another's love life. He was felt extremely glad that Fran was no longer with Julian.
"I was with this guy Julian, but he turned out to be a real jerk… I'm not really seeing anyone socially really… at the moment. And you?"
"THE FRAN FINE IS SINGLE?! I AM SPEECHLESS!"
"Oh, please…" said Fran, blushing and swatting the air with her hand.
"Ah, no kidding! I'm in the exact same boat. I used to be with my husband Bernard Thomas the third, you know the beloved and wealthy socialite? Well, he turned out to be a real jerk too after awhile and I told him we had to go our separate ways."
"So sorry to hear that. I guess I know how you feel too," empathized Fran.
"Oh, don't bother feeling sorry for me, he really wasn't worth it anyhow…" said Deborah, honestly, who then scanned over Fran's outfit. "Wow, ya know, you dress so conservative now—cute, but conservative all the same…"
C.C. laughed so hard that she spit out the dark roast coffee she was drinking far out in front of her.
Everyone glared at her strangely—Maxwell, Fran and Niles soon chuckled, knowing full well that Fran and conservative were as different as hot and cold water.
"I don't get it, what's so funny?" asked a perplexed Deborah. "She better not be laughing at me!"
"Don't mind her, she hasn't taken her medication yet," said Niles, indicating C.C.
C.C. growled and walked out of the office for a moment to herself.
"Bottle's on the kitchen counter!" yelled Niles after her. "…And I don't mean the Sherry! That's for my cooking tonight."
"Good God old man, you never do quit, do you?"
Maxwell stood, grinning at his mischievous butler.
"A butler's job is never done! I'm a hard worker and it just so happens that terrorizing C.C. is my second occupation."
Fran laughed and turned to Deborah.
"Well, I kinda have to watch what I wear and dress properly, because I am a nanny now," explained Fran, gesturing over her outfit.
"Haha—ha woah, ha um, that's fantastic! I never knew you were a nanny! I suppose you look pretty hot then," stated Deb, a little more than amused at Fran's pathetic job.
"Thanks…I think."
"I was beginning to wonder your place here… "
Deborah's petite, well-groomed hand circled around, referring to the whole house.
"What?"
"I was curious as to why you were in this Broadway producer's home unless the two of you were involved…" she commented with an odd sort of gleam in her eyes.
"Oh, well being a nanny here is a live-in job, so… yeah that's why," clarified Fran, not giving any attention to the involvement of her and her boss.
"Ah, that explains it."
Maxwell felt extremely optimistic and carefree at the moment, because his play was looking promising and Deborah seemed dedicated to the part that so demandingly needed to be filled. He was also glad that Fran was at least giving him the time of day since "the bedroom incident" even though he knew he didn't deserve it. Long ago, he had zoned out of Debbie's and Miss Fine's small talk, so he really hadn't heard too much of it.
"Oh Mr. Sheffield, I just remembered something I have to tell you," said Fran.
"Well then, Miss Fine come over here and tell me then!" invited Maxwell welcomingly, smoothing his hand over her empty edge of his desk to get off some overlying dust. Not surprising it was there, for she hadn't parked her toches there for quite some time.
She unconsciously, sultrily sashayed her hips as she made her way over to him and he had noticed. Fran unenthusiastically hopped onto her desk corner and faced him with her body but not her eyes, for she was still upset with him. He still sat back and enjoyed the view in front of him, arms crossed.
"Before I answered the door and got that package, the nurse of Gracie's school called. Apparently, she's a little sick so I'm gonna go by the school and pick her up."
"Oh, that's too bad she's not feeling well. I do hope she's all right… and thank you," he said, leaning forward to place his hand on her thigh. "It'd be fine if you went to pick her up and bring her back here where she can rest."
Fran then slid off and returned to the front of the room, Maxwell's eyes following her every move.
Yes, this is definitely going to be tricky… pondered Deborah.
She couldn't believe they were so formal with the "Mr. Sheffield" and "Miss Fine" mumbo jumbo. There was some obvious sexual tension between them and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. The formalness had to be some kinky joke she wasn't apart of and in short, she was not at all happy. She had thought this was going to be easy, because they weren't involved. Apparently they were, and they just kept it under wraps.
"Debbie we should really get up to date on each other," suggested Fran.
"We'll chat later okay! Meet me at the Starbucks up the street around two o'clock," said Debbie perkily.
"All righty!" replied Fran, who then left.
Deborah stared at the closed door in which Fran had just departed from.
No way was Fran going to take away another man she wanted! Maxwell Sheffield's sexy British accent drove her wild and she just had to have him. So, like giving a child a lollipop and cartoon band-aid to forget the shot they just received, Debbie was going to find a man for Fran so that she would forget Maxwell. She wouldn't be conning her, because it would be a win-win situation and soon they would both get what they wanted. But the chemistry between Fran and Maxwell was so very strong that it would have to take someone irresistible.
Someone Fran couldn't refuse.
Someone from her past…
A/N: Thank you all for your kind reviews! I really appreciate it. : )
-Trixie-