Promises

“I wanted to make sure that there was something serious going on. I didn’t want to find myself hooked by his looks or his charm only to find that’s all it was.”

“Fair enough, Carla. Now my second question: How long have you known him?”

“Only a few weeks.”

He was astonished, theatrically slamming the palm of his hand down on the round wood table.

“And already he is God’s gift?”

Next, he threw his hands up in gesture of disbelief, a reaction he’d perfected over the years. Learning such gestures, especially in Hollywood, had served him well over the years.

“I’ve never met him. What’s the problem?”

“He lives in Nashville.”

“Is that all, Carla?” Irving asked, knowing all too well when she was being less than totally forthcoming.

Carla blushed as she admitted, “You got me again.”

Irving’s eyes narrowed.

“Come out with it,” he insisted. “I need to know.”

“Kyle’s gotten involved in church activities.”

Irving was surprised but took that in stride.

“The rest of it, my dear,” he probed. “I don’t condemn men who spend time in church instead of bars.”

Carla wanted to spit the words out right away instead of hesitating but she equivocated a bit until Irving demanded that she let everything out once and for all.

“And there are his college classes,” she said. “These take all morning and most of the afternoon.”

That one got through big-time!

Irving had been sipping from a glass of white wine, and was so startled that he spilled half of it on the table.

“Are you—?” he asked hopefully but with an increasing edge of chilling resignation, knowing his client nearly as well as he had his ex-wives.

Carla nodded.

“Yes, Irving, I am serious,” she said. “I will never deceive you or play some odd practical joke.”

“Tell me that, at least, he’s a senior. Please tell me that, my dear.”

“I can’t.”

She reached out, placed her right hand on the back of his left.

“He’s a music teacher at college…” she said rather sheepishly.

“Holy Mother of—!” he started to shout but stopped when he saw a monsignor, who was sitting at the next table, turn around and glare at him.

For a moment Irving was quiet, and Carla knew why. He was already planning what might be called damage control.

“I can imagine what the tabloids will do with this if…when they find out,” he said, an old stutter long ago conquered threatening to resurrect itself. “But then, if you never see him again, the chances are—”

Carla knew the routine, knew the kind of pressures Irving was going to put on her so that she would cave in and do what he wanted.

“I will not stop seeing Kyle,” she said firmly but without raising her voice.

“Is he that good in bed, Carla?”

She might have slapped anybody else who would talk to her like that but she knew Irving Chicolte as well as he knew her, and she had come to accept such outspokenness as evidence of his honesty, even if it said a great deal about his lack of taste.

“We’ve not beentogether that way,” she said.

“Soon, I’m sure,” he muttered.

“No, Irving, now stop it!”

He cleared his throat and added, “But, dear, dear Carla, that’s what everyonewill be saying. You’re deceiving yourself if you think otherwise. At this point in your career, do you want people suspecting that you are running around with a college kid? It might send the message that you couldn’t get anybody your own age.”

Carla knew that Irving would not beat around the bush when she told him. And she was prepared.

“He teaches at a college, Irving. He’s not a student,” Carla replied patiently. “There’s something else,” she added.

“Not again!” he exclaimed. “You’re going to tell me that he’s got a prison record, but you love him despite everything.”

“Irving…” she tried to say.

“How can I ever explain this to our friends, let alone our enemies, of which there are a few in this town?”

“Irving, please!”

“Don’t you realize what is happening to your career now that you are an Academy Award winner?”

Carla reached out and put the palm of her hand over his mouth.

“Irving, enough!”

He quieted down.

“Any more surprises?” he asked, fully expecting that she might have a few more up her sleeve.

“He’s younger than me, yes. But not all that much. And he’s gorgeous,” she said, “and the absolute best male country music singer I have ever heard. I want you to meet Kyle Rivers, and see if you agree that he could be very big.”

“Is it love, Carla,” Irving asked cynically, “or a career opportunity?”

She had been all in favor of her agent’s renowned outspokenness until he said that.

“If I didn’t find you so adorable,” she said, “I’d fire you right now.”

“If I didn’t think of you with so much affection,” he told her, “I would go without protest, sighing with relief all the way to my attorney’s office, my dear.”

“So, will you go?”

“To Nashville?”

“Yes, Nashville.”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“With less than the greatest anticipation.”

“Why do you say that, Irving? I’ve not seen quite this attitude coming from you before now.”

“I think, in your present state, you would find a hog caller good enough to audition for the Metropolitan Opera!”

He smiled at her, then added, “Will I like this Kyle Rivers, Carla? I mean, really like him?”

“You will find him charming and talented.”

“Is it love, Carla? Can you be sure? I couldn’t bear to see you hurt.”

Carla smiled softly, her eyes shining. He had his answer.

Car horns were honking.

“We’re blocking the driveway,” she said. “Let’s go, Irving.”

He half smiled, nodded and drove away.

“I’ll ask my secretary to make the travel arrangements,”

Irving said as they approached his office where one of her own cars was parked in the building’s garage.

“The Opryland Hotel would be fine.”

“When should we plan on going?”

“This is Monday. How about leaving on Thursday?”

“Roxie and I could make it earlier, if you want.”

“Okay, Wednesday would be fine.”

He was getting out of the car when Carla reached over and grabbed his sleeve.

“Irving?” she asked.

“Yes, Carla?” he said, sounding a bit weary.

“Can I tell Kyle when I call him later?”

“About us coming? That would be fine.”

“No, about your prayer need.”

He hesitated, then acknowledged, “I haven’t had a Christian offer to pray for me or my loved ones lately.”

“I am now a professing Christian, Irving.”

“For how long?”

“Just a few weeks.”

“You might get over it soon then.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said sincerely.

He kissed her on the cheek, then got out of his car and walked up the sloping driveway to the pavement outside. His shoulders were slumped, his walk shuffling.

“Irving!” she shouted. “I love you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, waving back at her, and then was gone from sight, swallowed up by the glare of the sun as he emerged from the relative darkness of the garage, an aging veteran of the Hollywood entertainment world, able to make the most arrogant stars and studio executives dread his ire but now tired of going to “war” every day and being so wired at night that a restful sleep is something he cherished almost as much as life itself.

Carla called Kyle as soon as she was inside her apartment, which was more like a miniature mansion, with black Italian marble floors, white imported furniture and a large crystal chandelier.

“Did you go and tell Irving that you and I were getting married?” he asked.

She knew that Kyle, always a model of directness, would ask that very question.

“I didn’t have the nerve frankly,” Carla replied honestly.

“He’s been so much a part of your life for so long. Shouldn’t you avoid giving him any surprises?”

Carla had been asking herself that same question.

“I want him to meet you first,” she said a bit defensively.

“If that’s what you think is best.”

Not again! her mind shouted. You keep doing that.

Again and again…sometimes when Kyle was acquiescing too readily, it seemed as though this indicated weakness on his part, or that he was afraid of losing her if he disagreed about anything. She had never found indecisive yesmen very attractive for long.

“I wish you would stop that,” she told him at last.

“What, Carla? Stop what?”

“Always giving in to me. You really can disagree with what I say, you know, and it won’t mean that we are going to split up.”

“I know that.”

As always, his voice disarmed her. The first time they spoke weeks before, and during that conversation, the circumstances were not any different. Kyle’s deep, warm voice had an amazing effect on her. It was not harsh at all, as though coming from some macho football hero whose vocal cords had been affected by chewing tobacco and booze, but, rather, an inexpressibly sexy one that seemed almost like a caressing hand. But she was determined not to let it detour her from finding out what she wanted.

“Then why did you leave it up to me again?” she asked, trying very hard not to sound peevish.

Carla knew how much she was gambling by confronting him just then.

“Irving is your agent, your friend, has been for all these years,” he stated. “How can I help you with a man I’ve not even met?”

That made sense but the same voice she loved to hear was also one that showed naked emotion, making it easy for her to read, and so she asked, “Is there something more, though, Kyle, now if not other times?”

“Yes, there is. Maybe I am afraid of losing you. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve lost someone I loved,” he admitted.

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