Chapter 8

"Well, all I can say is congratulations, Eliot."

Patricia's voice, sharp but pleasant, echoed across the dining room. She smiled happily at her husband, who was sitting, relaxing over his coffee, having just given her the details of the Chicago engagement and the details of the recording contract.

"Yes. It's been rough, but worth it." Eliot wiped his lips with his napkin and pushed his chair back slightly, crossing his legs comfortably.

"That was a good lunch," he commented. "Or should I say dinner?" He laughed shortly. "These fast flights sure screw up one's time schedule."

She nodded. "At least you're going to be home for a while, and for that I'm thankful." She stretched her slender arms above her head and sighed. "I can't tell you how much I hate that cold back east. Of course, I'm sorry I missed seeing Axel, but.. . " She lifted her shoulders into her familiar expressive wordlessness.

"It's all right. I understand."

"I hope so."

"Of course, Axel might have appreciated your staying. It was a big event in his life."

She sniffed. "I'll admit I don't enjoy that ghastly noise they call music," she said. "It bothers me that the kids don't have better taste."

"At least we agree on that point," Eliot said, a tolerant smile creasing his features. He stared at her a moment, admiring her beauty, her calm assurance, her air of self-composure. "I've missed you," he said, reaching for her hand.

She giggled. "I've missed you, too. We'll make up for it tonight."

"You betcha."

"More coffee?" Patricia reached over for the pot. He nodded, and she poured the steaming black liquid into his cup. "Oh, I meant to ask. Is Sally all right? She seemed positively antagonistic at the airport. Hardly said a word, and then flew off."

Eliot shifted awkwardly. "Well, it's not to be wondered at. I let her go."

Patricia raised an eyebrow. "You let her go? What do you mean, Eliot?"

"Just that. Last night was it. I'm replacing her."

"You must be crazy. What's Axel got to say about it?"

"I think it's a great idea."

They both looked up as Axel walked into the room and sat down at the table. Patricia continued to stare at him disbelievingly.

"You think it's a great idea," she mimicked his voice. "Well, let me tell you, I think you're losing one of the things that probably helped you get that recording contract. I don't understand it. Sally's just-" She groped for words, "Well, she's part of the group, that's all."

Axel looked at his father and pursed his lips. "How about some coffee, huh?" he said lightly, smiling at Patricia. She nodded, and passed him a cup.

"Eliot?"

"Yes, dear."

"Eliot, don't ignore me, please. I said."

"I heard you, Patricia, and I'm not ignoring you," Eliot replied, his voice firm. "But you must remember that Axel's career has been my prime concern for a long time. Longer than you and I have been married, in fact. You don't think I'd do anything to prejudice that, now, do you?"

"What do you mean? I'm quite aware of your handling Axel. But dammit, Eliot, I've also been in the business a long time, and this sort of decision strikes me as rather foolish. Sally's been with the group sometime. She's a definite asset." She continued frowning at her husband, trying to fathom the look of apprehension on his face. "Or maybe something happened? Was that it? Has she-has she done something?"

"Er-no, not really."

"Well, then, why let her go?"

Axel broke in, his voice strong and at the same time trying to placate her. "Pat, you know me'n Sally've been shacking." She nodded. "Well, like it's over. And I don't want her around. She's a drag. She-well, shit, she's just too much."

Patricia coughed delicately. "I won't deny that your little affair hasn't exactly been what I consider acceptable behavior, but I try to understand, to move with the times." She looked at Eliot for approval. "But your lack of involvement shouldn't have any bearing upon her professional status. Not every girl singer sleeps with the band leader, just like every actress doesn't sleep with her manager." She looked archly at Eliot. "Unless, of course, she plans to marry him," she added with a grin, putting out her hand and touching his.

"Look, Patricia, I don't think anything's to be gained by discussing the matter. It's already been decided."

"Oh." Patricia's voice took on an edge. "I thought at least you might have discussed it with me, if for nothing else than courtesy. After all, I may only be Axel's stepmother, but I do have his interests at heart the same as you. And," she said, a superior smile crossing her lips, "two heads are usually better than one, not so?"

"At times, yes, but in this case, it was between

Axel and me, dear," Eliot said as gently as he could.

"I see." Patricia dropped her eyes and slowly stirred her coffee before taking a small sip. She reached for a cigarette and carefully lighted it before inhaling deeply and blowing the smoke carefully up into the still air of the dining room.

"Who do you have in mind to replace Sally?"

Eliot looked at his son and their glance was not lost on Patricia. She frowned. "I'd say you've already found someone from the looks of things. Who is she?"

"We haven't found anyone. We already have her, right here," said Eliot, forcing a confident smile. "Tiffany."

Patricia choked on her cigarette, coughed loudly, and recovered; then, her face flushed, she stared wide-eyed at Eliot, then at Axel. "I do hope this is some sort of a joke," she said forcefully. "Tiffany singing with the group? That child? Oh, no, Eliot, you've got to be joking."

"It's no joke, Patricia. I intend to start grooming her and as soon as she's ready, she'll join Axel. It'll be a great publicity gimmick. Brother and sister team. Good for the box office. Good for-"

"Good for everything except Tiffany," snapped Patricia. "That child is barely into her teens. She may have some talent, I won't deny, but she's got her schooling to finish, besides growing up a little. Oh, no, this is something I won't allow."

"She is my child, Patricia."

"I don't care. I'm your wife." She turned on Axel. "Do you go along with this idea, Axel?"

He nodded. "I think she'll be great."

"I don't believe you. In fact-" Patricia pushed her chair back and pointed with her cigarette at each of them in turn. "You both look-I don't know-as though-" She struggled for words. "I just don't buy it. It's completely ridiculous to fire one singer before you have another ready to go in. What about the recording session? What about other concerts this coming month?"

"The contract is for Axel, not the group," said Eliot. "It doesn't matter who we have backing him. It's his talent they're buying. Girl singers are a dime a dozen. It so happens I figured Tiffany would make a great drawing card, and especially because of her age. Look at most of the groups-the Osmond Brothers, the Jackson Five. It's that young one who gets all the attention, who packs 'em in, gets the feature stories. No, Patricia, Tiffany will be a decided asset to my plans in developing Axel."

Patricia sat still, her chest heaving, her eyes flashing.

"I still don't agree with you," she said firmly. "Tiffany is far too young. I've known for a long time she's got stars in her eyes, and she probably worships Axel, her big brother who's going to be a star. She obviously wants a little of that to rub off and the easiest way will to be part of the group with him. Eliot, don't tell me she hasn't tried to influence you?"

Eliot flushed. "Tiffany had nothing to do with it," he lied. "It has been my decision. I talked it over with Axel and he agreed."

Axel stared at his father, frowning. "You may have thought about it, Dad, but it was my idea. Remember, yesterday-"

Eliot quickly interrupted him. "Axel, whoever decided first makes no difference. You and I agree, and that's all that matters."

"So I don't matter, then?" Patricia's voice was icy.

"I didn't say that," Eliot snapped, his temper rising. "And for Chrissake, let's stop this idiotic argument."

"Idiotic? Idiotic? Let me tell you, Eliot, you're the one who's being idiotic. I've never heard of anything so senseless in my life. Tiffany's still a child and has no place being pushed into the business, at least not until she's matured a little more and proven that she's got some talent to contribute."

"I've got plenty to contribute, Patricia."

They all turned and saw Tiffany standing in the doorway, a peculiar expression of triumph on her small, round face. Slowly she walked in and stood next to her father.

"I'm sorry you don't think I have talent," she continued. "Maybe I'll just have to prove it."

"There's only one thing you have to do, young lady," said Patricia grimly. "Finish school. Grow up. And then perhaps we can talk about a career. Eliot." She turned to him. "I don't understand this. Only a months ago you were thinking of sending her to that school in Connecticut. We even discussed how good it would be for her. All those plans . . . " Patricia threw up her hands. "And now this. It doesn't make sense." She stared around at three pairs of antagonistic eyes. "I'm sorry, but that's the way I feel."

"I'm sorry, too, Patricia." Eliot forced a smile, and patted Tiffany's arm reassuringly. "But please, you must let my decision rest. I do think I know what's best for my own children, after all."

"Patricia." Tiffany spoke up, a sudden confidence in her voice and manner. "I think Daddy's the one who should say what happens to Axel and me. He knows best, don't you, Daddy?" She turned to her father and gave him her sweetest smile.

Patricia's eyes narrowed. "Tiffany, I think you and your brother had best leave us for now. This is something between your father and me, and I don't wish to argue with a child." She gave a peculiarly cutting inflection to the last word, and

Tiffany flushed.

"I'm not a child," she blurted out. "I'm nearly fourteen and I've got a right to-"

"You don't have any rights at all," Patricia snapped. "Not until you're eighteen. And until then, you'll listen to me and your father. And right now I'm not asking you, I'm telling you to get your ass out of here."

"I'm staying."

Patricia looked heatedly at Eliot. "Eliot-will you kindly do something?"

He smiled at her placatingly. "This does concern the children, so I see no reason for them to leave. They're both old enough to discuss the matter intelligently, and apart from their ages, they do have their rights as my children, Patricia."

"Yes, we're old enough," said Tiffany, her voice dripping with innuendo. "Old enough to do lots of things, but then you were probably doing them long before you were our age."

"That's enough." Patricia's voice cut across the table. "Eliot, are you going to stand for that child insulting me in my own house?"

Eliot frowned at Tiffany. "That remark was most uncalled for, sweetheart," he said. "I suggest you apologize to Patricia right now."

"I will not," replied Tiffany defiantly. "And this isn't her house. It's ours."

"It's just as much hers as ours," Eliot said firmly. "And I'm getting sick and tired of this constant bickering between you two. It's unbelievable that two people I love so much can't get along better. It certainly doesn't make things very pleasant for me."

"I've tried, Eliot, you know that," said Patricia. "But for some reason, Tiffany seems to resent me. And don't you deny it, either," she added, throwing a warning glance at Tiffany. "Ever since your father started going with me, I've known how you feel. But then-" She shrugged. "I guess it's only natural for her to feel jealous. Most children feel that way about stepmothers, at least according to the books I've read."

"Stop it!" Eliot's voice echoed round the room. "Jesus Christ, this started out as a perfectly pleasant meal and now we're in the middle of the goddamnedest row I've ever had."

"It's only because of Tiffany," snapped Patricia. "I think it's time she learned not only some manners, but some idea of her place around here. You know, Eliot, I think that school back east might not be such a bad idea, and certainly most timely."

Tiffany glared at her. "You're not sending me away anywhere," she said menacingly. "I'm joining the group and I'm staying here. This is my home and I-I wish you'd never come here. I wish Daddy had never married you." Her voice rose to its full childish petulance. "I can give Daddy all the love he needs. He doesn't need you for anything-not even sex."

The words were out before she could stop them, but even as she heard her own voice, she felt a glow of satisfaction, a deep warmth emanating from her innermost emotions. She had said it, and she didn't care.

"What-are-you-saying?" Patricia's voice was slow, deliberate and shocked.

"The child doesn't know what she's saying," said Eliot quickly, but as his eyes met Patricia's, he knew his expression was tantamount to confession. He dropped his eyes and felt his color rise.

"She doesn't know what she's saying? She doesn't know what she's inferring?" Patricia turned to Tiffany, her face livid with rage. "Are you insinuating that-that you and your father have-have-" Her voice broke and she turned away.

"Patricia . . . "

"Please, Eliot. I think I'm going to be ill."

She dropped her head into the palm of her hand and leaned on the table. Axel stared desperately at his father and at Tiffany, who was glaring at Patricia, making no attempt to disguise the blunt feelings of antagonism within her.

Tiffany, do you know what you said?" Axel's voice, strained and disbelieving, broke the silence. Eliot stared at his son, and in their glance they knew, as two men know instinctively, what had happened. Axel groaned.

Patricia raised her head and took a deep breath. "Eliot," she said, her voice brittle and sharp. "Am I to believe that you and Tiffany have ever had sexual relations?"

Tiffany's voice burst forth before her father could quiet her. "Yes, we've fucked, and there's nothing wrong with it. We love each other-"

"Tiffany!" Eliot's voice was shaking.

Patricia stared at him and she gave a loud, animal cry, and her face contorted in horror. "You -you -pervert!" she screamed. "You-you-Oh, my God, I don't believe it. I don't believe it. She's making it up, that evil, hateful child. Tell me she's-" Patricia stared at Eliot's haggard expression. She turned to Axel, who was biting his lips and looking as though he was about to break down. "Axel, don't tell me you know about this?" Then suddenly, full comprehension dawned. "Oh, God, you, too?"

Tiffany stared across the table at her stepmother and smiled evilly. "I don't know why you're so upset-" she began, but Eliot's voice stopped her.

"Patricia . . . let me explain-"

"There's nothing to explain," was her bitter retort.

Patricia rose abruptly, pushing her chair away with her legs as she stood, staring down at Eliot, her face distorted with anger. "I'm not staying here another minute," she said, her voice frighteningly calm. "I am going upstairs to pack."

Tiffany gasped, and her face radiated her childish pleasure. "You're-you're leaving?"

"Yes, I'm leaving. And I won't be back."

Eliot reached for her, but she drew back. "Patricia, sit down," Eliot said, his voice husky and trembling with emotion. "I can explain everything." His eyes pleaded with her. "Now do as I say and sit down."

"I will not. You-you disgust me. All of you."

She turned quickly and stalked out of the room, her hands trembling and the beginning of a sob in her throat.

Eliot gave a soft moan. "Oh, my God," he muttered, staring blankly at the table. Tiffany put out her hand and touched his arm.

"Don't be like that, Daddy," she said imperturbably, her face radiant. "And you, Axel-" She turned to her brother, who sat, aghast, numbed. "Why are you looking so miserable? She's leaving. We're going to be by ourselves again. I think that's wonderful." She gave a little laugh. "Just think of all the fun we can have, Daddy, just me and you, and Axel." She giggled suddenly. "We'll really have a ball, won't we?"