“Did you tell her?” Leslie asked her, and Coco shook her head.

“I couldn't, because of the dog. She said you screw anything that moves, especially and almost always your costars, and far more glamorous and sophisticated women than me.” Coco looked as though she'd been slapped, or spanked.

“She said that?” He looked shocked. “What brought that on?” “I asked her if you were gay, to throw her off the scent.” “Terrific. And that was her answer? Yes, I have slept with some of my costars, but not in a long time. That's a younger actor's game. I've tried to be involved with real women, not just starlets. And you are the only woman I have ever really loved. And no, I am not gay.”

“Prove it to me,” she said, pretending to pout at him, and he burst into laughter.

“Well, if you insist,” he said, stopping as he unpacked his suitcase and advancing toward her on the bed. “Your wish is my command, and if you want me to prove to you that I'm not gay, I will.” And within minutes after that, he did. Again and again and again.





Chapter 6

By the end of June, Leslie's ex-girlfriend had stopped giving interviews to the tabloids about him, and issuing statements on Entertainment Tonight. She was even seen on the dance floor in an L.A. nightclub making out with a well-known rock star. It looked like Leslie was off the hook. He didn't want to push his luck, but she hadn't bothered him in weeks. He had to go back down to see his agent in L.A., to discuss some business with him, and he left for two days. As soon as he did, Coco slipped into a funk. It reminded her of what life had been like without him, how much she loved him, and how devastating it was going to be when he went back to his real life for good. Their fantasy life couldn't last forever. He was who he was, and she lived in a world far removed from his. She was reminded again that they were living on borrowed time. She was still depressed about it when he got back.

“What happened? Did someone die?” he teased her the night he came home. He could see how sad she was. He wondered if it had something to do with her mother. She had kept the secret to herself, and was still upset about it. It never occurred to him that she was upset about him.

“No, you went away. And it made me think about what it's going to be like when you leave.” He was touched by what she said, and he felt the same way. He thought about it constantly, and how they could make their future work. He wanted it to, more than anything.

“There's no rule written in stone that you can't come to L.A. with me. We could live together there.” She vehemently shook her head.

“My mother would drive me insane, the paparazzi would eat us alive, people would be going through our garbage, I know what all of that is like. I remember the stories about my father's clients. I can't live that way.”

“Neither can I,” he said, looking worried. He knew he'd never get her to live in L.A., and he needed to be there, at least some of the time.

“But you do live that way. It goes with the territory for you.”

“Then we can live here, and I'll commute when I have to. I'm on location half the time anyway. You can come with me there.”

“The paparazzi will drive us insane on location too,” she said miserably.

“What are you saying to me, Coco?” he asked, looking frightened. “That you don't want to share my life with me? That it's too hard to deal with paparazzi so you'd rather give this up?” He seemed panicked, and she shook her head.

“I don't know what to do. I love you, but I don't want all that garbage to ruin our life.”

“Neither do I. Other people get through it. You just have to put some thought and effort into it. At least you're not in the business too. That ought to help. And no one's bothering us right now, so we might as well enjoy it while it lasts.” They had been very lucky so far, and extremely careful about where they went. He didn't go downtown shopping, or turn up in local shops more than once. They bought groceries at Safeway late at night, with him wearing a baseball cap and dark glasses, and they spent every weekend in Bolinas, hiding out, and took long walks on the beach with no one around. He didn't have the luxury of being able to go out in public. It was a fact of his life. He had come here to hide from one woman, and was now hiding with another, trying valiantly to protect her and shield her and their love story from public view. Undeniably, it was a challenge, but he knew the drill, and as long as no one figured out that he was living in San Francisco with her, everything would be fine. As he said to her frequently, so far so good. But they both knew it couldn't last forever, and sooner or later they'd have to face the music and the fallout of his being a big movie star in love with a woman. It was all of that that Coco dreaded and abhorred, no matter how much she loved him.

“I just don't want this to end,” she said sadly, “I mean the way it is now.”

“It may not be quite like this in future, but we can manage to lead a very private life. And it won't end if we don't want it to,” he said sternly. “That's up to us.” And with that, he kissed her and told her again how much he loved her. The last thing he wanted was for their romance to fall apart. He wanted to be with her for the rest of his life and hers. Of that he was sure. How they were going to do it was another story. He was determined to work it out, whatever it took.

He never bothered to rent a furnished apartment in L.A. He had decided to stay in San Francisco with Coco until mid-September, two and a half months from now. He was starting his next film in October and he had to be back for pre-production and costume fittings in September. He had ten days of shooting scheduled in L.A., and after that he was going to be in Venice for at least a month, and by the time he got back his house would be vacant again. He didn't need a place in L.A. for now. All he needed was Coco and the life and house they shared.

He suggested they spend the week in Bolinas over the Fourth of July, and asked if she could get a replacement for her dog-walking, so they could spend the whole week at the beach. She gave all her clients two weeks' notice, and found one of Liz's young gay friends who was happy to fill in for her with the dogs. Erin was a nice woman, needed the work, and spent a week following Coco around to learn the job. It was going to be the first time Coco went away for a week in two years. And they were both looking forward to it. Once they were in Bolinas, Leslie settled in as though he had always lived there. He even borrowed Ian's wet suit and went swimming in the ocean, although he was terrified of sharks. But the weather had been hot and gorgeous and he couldn't resist. It was an odd feeling for Coco watching him come out of the water in the familiar wet suit. His body was slightly different and she knew it wasn't Ian, but until he took the mask off, her heart fluttered a little. And the minute she saw Leslie's face, smiling at her, it soared. She realized then how much she loved him, and that she had put Ian in a special place. It was Leslie who owned her heart now. They lay together on the sand for hours, looked for shells, collected rocks, went fishing, cooked dinner together, read, talked, laughed, played cards, and slept for hours.

He spent some time working on her van, and much to her amazement, got it purring like a kitten. Jeff came out and consulted with him on it several times. And Coco laughed when Leslie came back into the house. His face was streaked with grease, and his hands were black. He looked thoroughly delighted like a small boy who'd been playing in the dirt all day. Leslie looked like a happy man.

Her other neighbors invited them to a barbecue on the Fourth of July, and Leslie wanted to go.

“What if people recognize you?” she asked, looking worried. They had been so wise and careful so far, and it had paid off. They were living an idyllic life of total anonymity and peace.

“Your neighbors already know who I am. They've been very discreet about it.” He sounded confident and sure, a little too much so for her.

“The rest of the neighborhood may not be.”

“If it feels weird or gets out of hand, we can leave. It might be nice to be part of the local pageantry for a change.” In the end, she agreed.

They went late, so it was dark, and slipped in quietly, helping themselves to two beers. Leslie sat down on a log and started talking to a little boy who was about the same age as Chloe. Eventually, his mother came up to retrieve him and stared in astonishment the moment she saw Leslie. Word spread quickly among the group after that. Jeff made no comment, but there were about fifty people there. They reacted to the newsflash that Leslie Baxter was drinking beer in their midst, but no one asked for autographs, no one annoyed him, and finally their fellow guests settled down again. Leslie had a very pleasant conversation with three men about fishing, and children seemed to love him. He had a nice way with them. Jeff looked at her and winked, and then sidled up to her for a chat.

“I like him,” he said simply in a soft voice. “The first time we met at the trash cans, I was a little taken aback. But he's a nice, normal, regular guy. He's not full of himself the way you'd expect him to be. You look happy, Coco. I'm glad for you.” Jeff looked genuinely pleased for her and was enjoying his friendship with Leslie, conducted in the backyard.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling at him. He hadn't seen her like that in years, and she had never felt this way in her entire life. So sure, so confident, so comfortable in her own skin, and of what she was doing and who she was with. It was a very grown-up feeling, and she loved it a lot.