Chapter 8: Shattered Illusions
Asquith stood outside Marjorie's dressing room, his heart fluttering with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. The encounter with Joan Crawford just hours prior had left him both intrigued and unsettled, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Marjorie—his dear friend and confidante, and perhaps something more.
With a gentle tap, he rapped on Marjorie's door, his hand lingering in mid-air for a moment before he let it fall back to his side. The seconds stretched, feeling like an eternity, until the door creaked open, revealing Marjorie standing before him. Her expression was guarded, her eyes betraying a hint of coldness that sent a pang of concern through his chest.
"Asquith," Marjorie greeted, her tone lacking the warmth he had grown accustomed to. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"
Asquith's gaze swept the room, his eyes immediately drawn to the absence of his photograph and portrait. A flicker of surprise danced across his features, his brow furrowing slightly. "Marjorie, my dear, I couldn't help but notice the absence of my portrait and photograph," he observed, his voice carrying a hint of confusion. "Did they find a new home?"
Marjorie met his gaze, her eyes holding a mix of emotions. Her voice was tinged with a coldness he had never heard before. "Asquith, things have changed," she replied curtly, her words biting like frost. "Perhaps it's time to let go of sentimental tokens that no longer hold the same significance."
His heart sank, the realization slowly dawning on him. Marjorie's demeanor, the absence of his cherished mementos, and the icy undertone in her voice—it all pointed to one thing: her jealousy. The weight of his actions settled heavily on his shoulders as he struggled to find the right words.
"Marjorie, please," Asquith pleaded, his voice laced with sincerity. "You must understand that my meeting with Joan was purely professional. It was an opportunity to explore new horizons, to learn from someone of her caliber. And, might I add, your jealousy is uncalled for. We are not an item."
Marjorie's frustration bubbled to the surface, her eyes narrowing as she absorbed Asquith's words. The ache in her heart mingled with a surge of indignation. His attempt to dismiss her feelings as unfounded stoked the fire of her exasperation.
"Asquith," she retorted, her voice sharpened by frustration, "don't you dare belittle my emotions. We may certainly not… be an item, as you put it. You can't dismiss my feelings with such casual disregard."
Her words hung heavy in the air, tension crackling between them. Marjorie took a step back, her arms crossed protectively over her chest, a defensive shield against the vulnerability that threatened to consume her.
Asquith's features softened, his eyes reflecting a mix of remorse and understanding. "Marjorie, I apologise," he said, his voice laced with a genuine sincerity. "I didn't mean to invalidate your feelings."
Marjorie fought to hold back tears, her voice quivering with a mixture of pain and longing. "You left me, Asquith," she whispered, her voice strained. "In that moment, it felt like I was not enough, that I couldn't compete with the allure of the silver screen and the opportunities that lie beyond our world."
Asquith closed the gap between them, his hand reaching out to gently grasp Marjorie's arm, seeking to bridge the emotional distance that had grown between them. "Marjorie, my dearest, please believe me when I say that it was never my intention to make you feel that way," he pleaded, his voice filled with remorse. "My encounter with Joan was purely a mere chance decided by fate! It was just professional, an opportunity I couldn't pass up. Come now. You know I aspire to be a movie actor."
Marjorie's eyes searched his, torn between the pain of the past and the flicker of hope that still remained. She longed for reassurance, to know that their connection was strong enough to weather the storm that had threatened to tear them apart.
"This is a dangerous game, Asquith," she stated, her words laced with a hint of warning. "But it seems you're always chasing after the next opportunity, the next thrill. What makes me believe Joan is not just another name in a long list of conquests? Surely she has promised you a little hand with your ambitions by offering you something you really never deny a woman."
Asquith knew that he had a reputation as a charmer, a man who pursued the next thrill without considering the impact on others. But with Marjorie, it was different. He had to make her understand.
"Ah, and this is why you have gotten rid of my photo and painting you claim came here due to a prank? Because you are jealous of Joan bloody Crawford?"
Her eyes narrowed, a mixture of frustration and defiance in her gaze. " Asquith, it's not just about the damn portraits," she retorted, her voice filled with a mixture of anger and hurt. "I'm not blind to your games, your reckless pursuit of momentary pleasures. I won't be just another conquest on your long list of dalliances… I know there's been other women. Now your mind is set on that… loose woman because she can help you."
Asquith chuckled, his demeanor unapologetic. "Marjorie, my dear, you're mistaken if you think I meant anything more than a bit of fun," he admitted, his voice laced with a hint of arrogance. "I'm a charmer, a seducer, and I don't apologise for it. It's the thrill of the chase that entices me. I have always been open about this with you."
Marjorie's eyes blazed with a mixture of frustration and defiance. "You may be a skilled seducer, Asquith, but I won't allow myself to be caught in your web of deceit. Not even for one single night," she declared, her voice filled with a newfound strength. "I deserve someone who values my heart, who seeks a genuine connection, not just a temporary fling."
Asquith's smile faded slightly, a flicker of realization crossing his features. He had underestimated the impact of his actions, the toll it had taken on Marjorie's heart. He never intended to cause her such pain, but his reckless nature had led them to this point.
"Marge, come now, I never meant to hurt you," he admitted, his voice softening slightly. "I may revel in the pursuit, but I never intended to lead you on. I admit that I am ever so flattered and really, truly, I enjoy seeing women head over heels in love with me, or merely infatuated. Whatever you call it. I did think, and I still do, that you are in awe of me."
Marjorie's eyes blazed with a mixture of anger and hurt as she listened to Asquith's words. The audacity of his arrogance only fueled her resolve to deny his claims and protect herself from further heartache.
"You have a twisted perception of reality, Asquith," Marjorie retorted, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "I am not in awe of you, nor am I head over heels in love with you. Your ego has clouded your judgment if you believe that to be the case."
Asquith's expression faltered for a moment, surprise registering in his eyes. The confident smirk that had adorned his face wavered, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. He hadn't expected Marjorie to deny his assumptions so vehemently. And for once so convincingly.
"I...I apologise if my words have been misconstrued," Asquith stammered, his voice laced with a hint of confusion. "But Marjorie, you must admit that there has always been a spark between us. I thought we had an understanding, an unspoken connection."
Marjorie shook her head, her voice resolute as she refused to entertain his delusions. "Asquith, there is no understanding, no connection beyond friendship," she declared, her voice steady and firm. "You wanted to play with my emotions, to lead me to believe there was something more. But I always knew it was just a game to you, a means to feed your insufferable ego. You are an egotistical ass!"
Asquith's eyes narrowed, his initial surprise giving way to a flash of anger. Marjorie's words struck a nerve, piercing through the charm and arrogance that had shielded him for so long. He had prided himself on his ability to win over hearts and manipulate emotions, but now he was confronted with the consequences of his actions.
"How dare you speak to me like that, Marjorie!" Asquith retorted, his voice laced with a mixture of frustration and defensiveness. "You think you know me so well, but you're blinded by your own stubbornness and refusal to acknowledge the truth. I may enjoy the chase, but that doesn't mean I don't have genuine feelings."
Marjorie's expression hardened, her eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and resolve. "Genuine feelings? Spare me your hollow words, Asquith," she spat back, her voice filled with a fiery determination. "You have toyed with my heart, manipulating the very emotions you claim to have. But I always saw through your charade, and I refuse to be a pawn in your self-serving game."
Asquith took a step forward, his face contorted with a mix of anger and hurt. "You think you're so above it all, Marjorie," he hissed, his voice tinged with a bitterness he couldn't fully conceal. "But don't act like you haven't enjoyed the attention, the flattery, and the excitement that came with our connection. You can deny it all you want, but deep down, you wanted me to fuck you hard!"
Gasping, Marjorie raised her hand, her palm connecting with Asquith's cheek in a swift, resounding slap. The sound echoed through the room, marking the end of their ill-fated fight.
Asquith staggered back, his hand instinctively touching the stinging imprint on his cheek. Shock coursed through his veins, a mixture of surprise and realization washing over him. The gravity of his actions, the pain he had inflicted, became crystal clear in that moment.
Marjorie herself was taken aback by her own actions, her hand trembling with a mix of anger and regret. She hadn't meant to resort to violence, but the depth of her hurt had momentarily eclipsed her usual restraint.
"I never want to see you again, Asquith," Marjorie said, her voice filled with a mixture of anguish and determination. "You have shown your true colors, and I refuse to be a pawn in your game. Find your thrills elsewhere."
Asquith stood there, the sting of Marjorie's slap lingering on his cheek, his heart heavy with regret. The realization hit him hard—his pursuit of pleasure and validation had cost him a genuine connection, a chance at something meaningful. It was a bitter pill to swallow.
Marjorie's heart pounded in her chest, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within her. Anger, hurt, and disappointment battled for dominance, leaving her feeling raw and vulnerable. The weight of Asquith's manipulations and his callous disregard for her feelings bore heavily upon her.
As she turned away from Asquith, her footsteps echoed through the room, each step carrying the weight of her shattered expectations. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over as the reality of the situation crashed down upon her.
With a choked sob, Marjorie hurriedly made her way towards the door. She couldn't bear to remain in the same room with Asquith any longer, his presence a painful reminder of the depth of her own emotions and the scars he had left upon her heart.
As she closed the door behind her, the tears finally spilled over, cascading down her cheeks. The sobs escaped her lips in quiet, heartbreaking bursts, the release of pent-up emotions that had been buried beneath layers of false hopes and shattered dreams.
In that moment, Marjorie felt the weight of her vulnerability, the ache of unrequited feelings, and the sting of betrayal.
Asquith's ego, once towering and unyielding, crumbled beneath the weight of his own arrogance. He had reveled in the pursuit, the thrill of conquest, believing that he held all the power. But now he realized that he had hurt, deeply, his very own best friend.
Guilt twisted his features, his once-confident facade giving way to vulnerability and self-doubt. He never intended to cause harm, but his recklessness had blinded him to the true emotions of those around him. The realization that he had played with Marjorie's heart, leading her to believe there was something more, pierced his soul with a searing pain.
Normally he wouldn't have much cared. But Marge is his friend, or was until that very moment. He sank into a nearby chair, the room around him feeling suffocating and devoid of its usual charm. He allowed himself to feel the weight of his mistakes, to truly understand the impact of his actions. The pain he had caused Marjorie became a reflection of the pain he had inflicted upon himself— the horrible realization that he may have truly lost such a wonderful, amazing friend, someone who never tired of supporting him in his ambitions.
