Genuine Lies

solid directing, a treasure chest of a supporting cast and yes, the chemistry between the stars.”
    “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen that film.” Julia smiled, hoping to ease some of the pain she saw in Eve’s eyes. “Each time I do, I find something new, something different.”
    “A small, shiny gem in my crown,” Eve said, gesturing with the cigarette. “Do you recall the scene where Richard and Susan are hiding out in a grubby hotel room—he waiting for orders, she looking for a way out? They’re arguing, insulting each other, fighting the attraction they’ve felt from the beginning. He the good, solid Irish cop believing in only right and wrong; she the girl from the wrong side of the tracks who lived in all the shades between black and white.”
    “I remember it very well. I caught it on television one night when I was baby-sitting. I would have been oh, fifteen, maybe sixteen, and I had a monster crush on Robert Redford. After the movie I tossed him aside like an old shoe and fell desperately in love with Victor Flannigan.”
    “How flattered he would be.” To clear some of the emotion from her voice, Eve sipped at the water. “And how disappointing for Mr. Redford.”
    “I think he got over it.” She gestured with her cup. “Go on, please. I shouldn’t have interrupted.”
    “I enjoy it more when you do,” Eve murmured, then rose to wander the room as she spoke. “What most don’t remember about that scene in that long-ago movie, even those involved atthe time, was that it wasn’t played the way it was written. Victor changed the moves, and our lives.”
    “Quiet on the set.”
    Eve took her place, mentally gearing up. “Roll film.”
    She ignored the dollies, the booms, the technicians. Tossed up her chin, eased her weight onto one foot, pouted out her lower lip. Became Susan.
    “Scene twenty-four, take three.” The clapper slapped together.
    “And … action.”
    “You don’t know anything about me.”
    “I know everything about you, sweetheart.” Victor loomed over her, fury and frustration in eyes that had been mild only seconds before. “You figured out when you were twelve that your looks would take you anywhere you wanted to go. And you went, taking the easy road and leaving a trail of men behind.”
    The close-up would come later. She knew the medium shot wouldn’t capture the frost in her eyes, or the sneer on her lips. But she used them, the same way a good carpenter uses a hammer. To drive the point home. “If that were true, I sure as hell wouldn’t be here in this dump with a loser like you.”
    “You walked into this.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Eyes wide. Women like you always have their eyes wide. You’ll get yourself out too. That’s your style.”
    Turning, she poured a drink from the bottle on the scarred chest of drawers. “It’s not my style to turn my friends over to the cops.”
    “Friends.” On a laugh he pulled out a cigarette. “You call it friendship when someone’s out to slit your throat? Your choice, honey.” The cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth, his eyes squinted against the smoke that curled up between them. “You make the right choice—for you. And you’ll get paid for it. The D.A.’ll slip you a few for theinformation. A woman like you …“He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, blew smoke in a cloud. “You’d be used to getting paid for a favor.”
    She slapped him, forgetting to pull her punch at the last minute. His head jerked back, his eyes narrowed. Slowly, watching her, he dragged on the cigarette again. Eve drew her arm back a second time, wincing a little when his fingers clamped over her wrist. She was braced for the shove they’d rehearsed, prepared to slam hard into the chair behind him.
    Instead, he tossed the cigarette to the floor. Her look of surprise, of knowledge, of panic, was captured on film forever as he dragged her into his arms. When his mouth crushed against hers, she struggled. Not so much against the arms that banded her against him, but against the explosions rocketing furiously inside her that had nothing to do with Susan and everything to do with Eve.
    She might have staggered if he hadn’t held her upright. It was terrifying to feel her legs go weak, to hear her blood roar. When he freed her she was fighting for each breath. Her skin had a pallor that needed no trick of lighting or makeup. Her lips trembled open. Her