It was the perfect weekend. They walked on the beach, slept in comfortable chairs on the deck, played cards, watched movies, made love, and talked about a thousand things. It was exactly the break they needed, and he promised to come to Bolinas the following weekend. He was planning to leave for Venice from San Francisco. It was more complicated for him, but he wanted to be with her until he left.

“What about coming over to see me once I settle in?” he asked lazily as they lay on the deck after a long walk on the beach.

“I don't think I can until Jane and Liz come home. And I'm not sure I can get coverage for that long, but I'll try. You'll be working hard anyway” she said sensibly and he looked disappointed. He didn't want to wait to see her until he came back from Italy.

“I have to go back to the hotel at some point. And you can hang out on the set, or discover Venice. It's a lovely city.” But more important, Coco thought he was a lovely man.

“I'll try. I promise. Liz said they'd be home in about two weeks.” A week after he left. “I'll see if I can get Erin to cover for me.” She was working for Coco that weekend, and she seemed to like the money and the work, which was a blessing for them. Coco had the feeling she might be using her often, if Erin was willing. She had another part-time job, and they still had to work it out.

“I'm going to go crazy without you,” Leslie said, looking sad. “I hate being away from you,” he confessed, but she didn't like it either. It had been an agonizing four days without him when he left San Francisco. And this was only the beginning. He went on location a lot, often for many months of the year.

“I'm going to miss you too,” she said, trying not to think about it. But at least he was coming to Bolinas the next weekend before he left.

He wanted to ask her if she was feeling any better about moving to L.A. to be with him, but he didn't dare. He knew it was too soon. And things were not always going to go as smoothly as they had the night before. That had been a carefully orchestrated dog and pony show. At other times, left to their own devices, the press got out of control, and a feeding frenzy occurred. He knew just how much Coco would hate that, and he did too. But it was part of the territory for him, and not for her. She didn't have to put up with it, he did. And at its worst, it was insane, and no way for a sane person to live.

They went back to the hotel on Sunday afternoon. There was a lone photographer waiting outside, and he took their photograph as they got out of the car. Coco could see that Leslie was annoyed, but he flashed the camera a brilliant smile. His philosophy was that if they got you, at least look good and not like an ax murderer about to strike. It was why she had almost always seen him looking smiling and pleasant in the press.

They hurried to their room and he didn't follow them. Paparazzi were not tolerated on the grounds of the Bel-Air. And they stayed in their room with the shades drawn until she left. They made love and slept for a while, and reluctantly, he woke her, and she packed, took a shower with him, and dressed. She was taking the last plane back to San Francisco. Erin couldn't cover for her any longer. They'd had three days, and Leslie had to work long hours all week on final meetings.

Leslie carried her bags himself so they didn't have to call a bellman, and he handed them to the driver, and as he turned to say something to Coco, a series of flashes went off in their faces. It was the staccato of strobes, and Coco was temporarily blinded as she felt someone shove her, and the next thing she knew she flew through the air into the car before she knew what hit her. Leslie landed on top of her, and he was shouting to the driver to pull away, and they sped off. She was breathless as she turned to look at Leslie as he settled back against the seat.

“What was that?” she asked in amazement.

“Paparazzi. A whole flock of them. My darling, there goes your reputation. You will no longer be considered just a date for an evening. Now the fun begins.” He looked resigned as he said it. He had been through it a thousand times before, but this was her first taste of what lay ahead. “Did I hurt you when I pushed you?” he asked with a look of concern, and she shook her head.

“It all happened so fast I didn't know what hit me. I didn't know if they pushed me or you did.”

“I didn't want them swamping you completely. They would have. There were about ten of them. I suppose the word has gotten out, or they were just checking. They got what they wanted, so now they'll be hot on the trail. I'm glad you're leaving tonight. It would be annoying for you.” And they would have no idea where to find her in San Francisco, which was a blessing. Leslie looked unruffled, and Coco took her cue from him and tried not to let it upset her. But there was no question, their secret was out now. Welcome to Leslie's world. And he was right, it was not always as tame as the night before. This had been somewhat rougher, although he had protected her quickly, with the instincts born of experience and practice.

He walked her to the security line in the airport, and kissed her. There were no photographers there. Only people who glanced at him, and then started as they recognized him, and then whispered to each other. And it was only after he kissed her and walked away that someone stopped him for an autograph. He waved at her, and she smiled at him, and then went through security. She already missed him, and she could feel the coach turning into a pumpkin as she walked to the gate alone.





Chapter 13

Much to Coco's amazement, her mother called her at eight o'clock the next day just before she left for work.

“Good lord, now what are you up to?” She had no idea what her mother meant. She had overslept after getting in late the night before, and she was rushing to pick up her first set of dogs.

“I'm on my way to work. Why?”

“Well, you must be doing more than that these days. There's all sorts of gossip about you and Leslie Baxter in this morning's paper. It says you spent the weekend with him at the Bel-Air and you're his latest fling. When did that happen?” her mother asked with interest.

“Over the summer,” Coco said cautiously. She didn't want to discuss it with her mother, or hear the kind of comments she'd gotten from Jane. Her mother had been taken down a notch or two over her affair with a much younger man, but she was still the same person she had always been. And she had never approved of any man in Coco's life. If she did this time, it would be a first, and Coco didn't think it was likely. Some things never changed.

“Don't you think he's a bit racy for you?” “He's a pretty normal person, when he's not in L.A.” “They all are, or most of them, when they're somewhere else. But Coco, he's a very, very big star, and you aren't. In the end, he'll go back to his own kind. You're probably a breath of fresh air for him, but that won't last,” her mother warned her, echoing more politely what her sister had said.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Coco said tersely. “I can't talk about it now, I'm late for work.”

“Well, have fun with him, but don't take it seriously.” “Is that how you feel about Gabriel?” Coco asked. “Of course not. Why would you say a thing like that? We've been together for a year, and we have great respect for each other. It's not just a summer fling,” she said, sounding offended. “Well, maybe this isn't either. We'll see what happens.” “You'll get your heart broken when he leaves you for some famous actress. Besides, he's too old for you.” Coco rolled her eyes as she listened.

“I can't believe that you of all people are saying that to me. I've got to go, Mom.”

“Well, just be careful. Enjoy it while it lasts.” They both hung up, and Coco was upset about it as she got into her van. Why did everyone think he was just going to play with her and dump her? Why couldn't a movie star fall in love too, or be a real person, or want more than just a quick affair with a costar? Why did everyone believe that she meant nothing to him? It was a statement of what they thought of her, even more than what they thought of him. That she was so insignificant that she would mean nothing to him, and it would end, because she didn't deserve him. She was depressed about it all day, and she couldn't talk to Leslie until late afternoon, because he was in meetings. He finally called her at six o'clock and sounded drained.

“Hi, sweetheart. How was your day?” he asked, and she immediately told him about the call from her mother. She had also had a call from Jane, but didn't take it.

“It's all so stereotypical,” she ranted at him. “The movie star and the dog-walker. My mother acts like all I'm good for is a piece of ass, and only a temporary one at that.”

“Don't underrate yourself,” he said seriously. “I think you would make a great piece of ass long term.”

“Oh shut up,” she said, and smiled for the first time all day.

“Don't let it get to you. There was a lot of stuff in the papers today. Including a great shot of me with both hands on your bottom shoving you into the car. I think that one was my favorite.”

“What are they saying?” Coco asked, sounding worried.

“One of the papers said you are my 'latest beauty.' Another one calls you my new mystery girlfriend. It's all pretty standard stuff. We didn't do anything wrong. You weren't falling-down drunk, neither was I. We didn't have sex in public, although we could try that. It just says you're my new hot date, or my current fling or whatever. After we've been around together for a while, it'll calm down. Right now, it's hot news and everyone wants to know where you live and who you are. And you don't live here, and I'm going away, so you're fine.” But what if she did live there, and with him? They'd be all over them every day. It was exactly why she didn't want to move to L.A. “Don't worry about it. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Now we're out in the open and it's done. It's kind of like losing your virginity to the press, it only hurts the first time, and as long as we behave decently in public, we'll be fine.” She thought he was being overly optimistic, but she didn't want to argue with him about it. It was still very much on her mind that night when her mother called her again. Coco almost didn't answer, but in the end she did. She called to tell Coco that some reporter had called her asking where her daughter lived. She wondered if it was the reporter at the party who had asked if she was Florence Flowers's daughter. One of the papers had reported on that fact, according to Leslie. And her mother had had her secretary tell them that she lived in Europe and was only in L.A. for a few days.