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Michael had no idea how it happened. He woke up on the ground, head pounding, amidst dry bushes in a rocky terrain. Amy Davis was dead, splayed at the bottom of the cliff. The tabloids had a field day accusing him of murder. He had no reason to kill her, but the media had a way of spinning their tales to intrigue the public. Photos of him with the actor having dinner and attending an opening at a high-end art gallery in Los Angeles were splashed across the Hollywood news rags.
The walls of his wood-paneled study closed in on him as he sipped his favorite 25-year-old scotch. He squirmed in the usually comfortable wingback leather chair and reviewed his bad judgment. The small green glass shade of the desk lamp cast him in shadows.
The affair was one thing, but when the starlet turned up dead, Michael Williams knew Dana would cut him off. Not even finding a new movie deal could save him or their marriage. Award-winning actor Dana Wood didn’t need him as much as he needed her, or at least as much as he needed her money.
It wasn’t like he fulfilled her, and Dana didn’t use her A-list acting talent to fake her feelings. He knew that her keen intuition picked up on his infidelity. He could feel her contempt from across the room whenever they were together. His public display with Amy was a mistake, but he had no desire to hide it. The underlying resentment toward Dana stemmed from his own self-loathing.
In Amy, he had found a doting admirer, amazed at his producer status and amused by his humor. His ego required her attention. He smiled easily around her and wanted to be the wonderful person she thought he was. His marital status never came up in conversation, since it was common knowledge who his wife was. Besides, relationship boundaries in the entertainment industry stretched well past the wedding vows for most.
Except for Dana. She had honor and a reputation for integrity. She was a rare person in general, let alone among the Hollywood crowd.
He could say he’d been lonely. Filming on location overseas meant that they were apart for months at a time. In her absence, his job was to find their next project and the financing to go along with it rather than a young lover. Dana always kept her end of the bargain, delivering performances that made the fans want more. He found the money; Dana brought the joy and reaped the awards.
His accomplishments all tied back to his famous wife. She enabled his success, and he’d betrayed her trust.
Despite his affection for Amy, he stayed away from her life celebration service. With the rumors of murder flying around, he thought it best for Amy’s family and his own to forego attending. Her Aunt Zelda would be there, and while he had never met her in person, the stories Amy told him about her constant criticism made him wonder why Amy allowed Zelda to live with her. The woman invaded Amy’s privacy and insisted on being on set with her during filming.
By all accounts, the woman was an odd duck, a throwback from the sixties with her long skirts, round sunglasses, and floppy hat. She lurked around the studio, intently watching everyone as she ate heartily from the free buffet. He guessed Amy’s loyalty came from Zelda being her last remaining relative. No matter, it wasn’t his problem.
Michael Williams took a gulp of scotch in the dim light of the room that used to be his sanctuary. Now it brought no safety, no motivation, no inspiration, only fear and the weight of his choices bearing down on him.
He knew that Dana’s reputation for integrity, professionalism, and kindness would remain intact throughout the ordeal. The darling of the media, they admonished Michael while playing-up Dana’s pain and suffering. They weren’t far off the mark.
Finding out about his fling with Amy Davis and embarrassing her in public was an unforgiveable stupid move. He hoped Dana didn’t divorce him. Or worse yet, never use him to produce any of her
