Island of Despair

"' All the world's a stage,'" I began in my mock medieval voice, "' and all the men and women merely players.'" I looked around the room, then off into the kitchen and down the hallway. Charles had the kind of money that meant he always needed some private security with him.

"' They have their exits and their entrances,'" I continued, looking him in the eye. "' And one man in his time plays many parts.'"

He rolled his eyes at me. Dak looked dumbfounded. I thought Shakespeare was from his continent. I saw in Maria's eyes, only pain, so I focused on her next.

"' Is this a dagger I see before me,"' I asked her in my regular tone, "' the handle toward my hand?'"

Maria knew the line well. Tears began to fall down her puffy cheeks.

"Sit down... actor!" Charles demanded.

"Ah," I said sarcastically, "A point emerges. Is 'daddy' here to take control of the situation? Damage control, is it? Tread carefully, Chuck. I'm not one of your employees or stoolies." He didn't respond.

The seating arrangements hadn't been thought out very well. Charles realized he'd been in my chair, so he motioned at it, then crossed the room and pulled a finely upholstered accent chair - dragged, was more like it - and imposed himself, and the chair, between me and the two lovers. We all just waited for him to start.

"Right there," he said pointing to an envelope on the coffee table. "Is a post-nuptial agreement - an amendment clause to your marriage vows - more precisely. It's heavily weighted in your favor. If you're smart you'll listen to what Mr. Bronson, here, and Maria have to say, and then you'll sign it. There's a very short expiration involved in you deciding - like before I leave here. If you'd prefer not to listen to reason, though I'm prepared to take Maria and my grandson out that door, and my media campaign begins immediately. The highlights include, you being lost, confused, angry - at the sudden end of your job - at the sudden revelation about Maria and Mr. Bronson, and of course about Matthew. That you've become unstable, threatened to hurt Maria, have been hurting her since the final taping - started up on the drugs again."

He saw the defensive pained expression on my face. "I know, well I think I know, you're not into that, but I will use any means necessary to protect my little girl and our family's reputation. You may get in a few insignificant licks if you fight me on this, in the court of public opinion, but I guarantee; I will destroy you. Do you understand me?"

Somehow, they'd gotten the jump on me, was my first thought, oddly. Still, I was confident about the truth, and I had good people on my side. It couldn't hurt to listen to this little soirée. But how had they done that?

"Fine," I shrugged. "Let's get on with it - whatever 'it' is."

Charles looked at his daughter and Bronson, waving his open palm for them to start.

Dak started to talk, and I immediately interrupted. "Shut. The. Fuck. Up, and let my wife tell me. You'll get your chance - maybe."

Maria looked as frazzled as I'd ever seen her, even on our wedding day. She kept rolling her closed hands nervously. Finally, she stopped and looked at me.

"Chase," she began, "I'm so, so sorry about this. It was never supposed to happen." I rolled my eyes, and she realized she was already failing miserably. My wife took a deep breath and tried again.

"Okay, no clichés," she said. "I fucked up. Dak and I had started becoming familiar, and then friendly, and then... well, then you were out of town. Remember that week when you had to go to the island and reshoot those two scenes? I was home, and Dak invited me to dinner. He said he didn't want me to be all by myself..."

She caught her dad shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

"This is hard enough daddy!" she admonished him. "I know I was stupid. Just let me talk to Chase."

"Anyway," she continued, completely off her game now. "We had wine, we danced... god. I know how fucking ridiculous it sounds, especially now that I'm saying it out loud. Chase, I love you. That never changed. I was drunk. I barely remember it. It's not your fault. To be honest, it isn't even his fault, although he had a hand in it."

That brought up a mental image, and I nearly lost my noon meal on our expensive carpet. Charles, with all his prick-status bravado, at least had the good sense as a man, to excuse himself and return with a wet cool towel. I accepted.

"Alright, skip all the bullshit," I said in disgust. "Did he breed you here, in our bed?"

Maria stifled a heavy sob, being slapped harder by my words than my hand ever could.

"No," she answered dejectedly. "We got a hotel room across the street from the dance club in Santa Monica."

"Ah," I laughed out loud. "He didn't want to miss out on easy pussy, by getting in an accident, or you getting sober enough to get cold feet."

Charles lashed out then. "Enough Chase! She fucked up, no one's denying that!"

I raised an eyebrow, and he simply turned back toward his daughter.

"It was just the once, Chase." She slurred, crying hard now. "I was so excited when I found out we... I was pregnant. At my first appointment, when Dr. Felding said I was three months pregnant - not two - I lost it. I started doing the math in the car, and I was devastated. I knew that was during the time I'd been with Dak. You were gone for four days, and you got in so late on the fifth, that you went straight to bed. It was horrible. I hoped and prayed that Matthew would be ours, so I could put the nightmare behind me."

"It doesn't sound like that at all," I said coldly. "It sounds like you'd have never told me about your little indiscretion and you certainly didn't come clean when Matthew was born. You must have known. I've heard women have a sense of those things. You were just going to let me raise this bastard's kid?"

No one had anything to say for a moment. Getting myself together, I realized Dak was chomping at the bit to say something, and honestly, I could barely look at Maria, the woman who'd broken my heart in so many ways.

"Go ahead, numb-nuts," I said looking at the bastard. "You've got something to say, I can see."

But Dak wasn't used to any of this. He had all the chutzpah and hubris of a stereotypical Scotsman. Big, bold, and ego-driven was his normal demeanor, on and off stage.

"She's being too kind," he said. "Of course, it's partly her fault. She was a little drunk, after all. But I started working on her long before that night - on set, off set - and I always get my..."

I was out of my seat like a shot. That damned old man Wilmington was a gazelle for his age, as he tried to stop my fist from slamming into Bronson's face. Between my flailing anger, and the two of them, I never landed the punch, but I'm sure I made the highlight reel on our home security system.

I immediately found out where Charles' goons were hiding out. I didn't find that out, just that they were fast as lightning getting from there to here. A bone crippling hand firmly held my shoulder. Dak got the worst of it, as goon number two slammed him down in his chair, and then bitch-slapped his face to get him settled.

Bronson looked shell-shocked. His gaze drifted from the goon to Maria, to Charles, and then to me.

"Chase!" he said emotionally, and then he began to cry. "I'm sorry! I never wanted any of this shit!"

"This!" he motioned at Charles, "or a baby - none of it. Okay, I was thinking with my small head - I never thought about the consequences. I'm sorry! But Chase, listen, man, I want to make it right."

How's that?" I asked, amused.

"I'll pay!" he wailed. "This is all of our fucking lives on the line. You know what scandal does to celebs. I'll pay child support until Matthew is eighteen. I'll pay for anything you think he needs that you don't want to pay for. Hell, I'll even pitch in for college. Just take her back, man. I know it's asking a lot, one man raising another man's kid, but you know you already love the little tike. You're already attached. He'll never know who I am unless you two decide to tell him. I won't even speak to him. You'll be his dad in his eyes. Whatever else you two want, too. If we fuck up our images, then our careers are out the window. I don't know about you two, but I love - no, I need - this lifestyle and money."

He was pathetic.

Charles had him backed up so badly, in whatever amount of time before I'd arrived, and the big loser had already broken down. I looked at Maria, with a raised eyebrow. She knew instantly, what I was saying non-verbally.

I allowed Bronson to wallow and looked directly at my wife. "You know," I said and then restarted, "you know, all of this... it isn't going to bring back my love for you, right? You explained that to 'daddy' already, I hope. You're proposing that we raise this child in a home without love and affection, just to save face. You get that, right?"

To my surprise, Maria nodded in affirmation. "I do," she responded, sadly and quietly. "It's only until we're established in our careers. Look, Chase, divorce in Hollywood is like sprinkles in an ice cream shop - it's always there, and people expect it. You need a new gig. I need one too, but not while Matthew is an infant.

"I don't expect anything from you in private, only in public - the performance of a lifetime, if you like. It's all in Daddy's postnup. You can discreetly see who you want, and so can I, you know, for sexual relief. I won't hold it against you. I'll treat you exactly the same way at home that I always have. That won't be acting, by the way. I do love you, and I'm remorseful that I did fuck up our lives - both things. I won't obsess about it, or keep holding out false hopes, but there will always be a part of me that fantasizes about a day when instead of handing me divorce papers, you'll tell me you forgive me."

The worst part of this farce was that Maria looked sincere. Too bad, I thought. I realized I might even forgive her someday, but I'd never stay with her. I picked up the envelope and started gazing over the documents inside. If Maria went with a man - any man - for sex, without informing me first, I could begin the divorce process. If she got caught by the paparazzi, or her indiscretion was brought into the public light, the same applied. In either case, the finances appeared to be heavily in my favor.

I looked at Maria, then Charles. "Why so many sections about her infidelity?" I asked feeling amused.

"Why not something legal telling her to keep her legs closed?" That angered Charles, but he was in business mode.

"That's exactly what all those clauses are about," he replied determinedly. "The same for you. Whether you and she ever reconcile is of no concern to me. I don't give a shit, and really, I hope you don't. This is about reputation - mostly mine, but all of yours, too. This is a chance as well. A chance to work through the consequences of her actions. A chance to learn how to raise a kid properly, and believe me, if either of you fuck that up, I'll step in with some favors from one of my judge friends, and I'll take Matthew. Otherwise, the kid hits age twelve, and you can both go your separate ways. Either way, this guy," he motioned at Dak, "pays for Matthew. He already knows what happens if he misses even one month."

Maria," I said suddenly, "how did you all pull this together? It surely wasn't done in a few hours after the lab results were delivered."

"I could tell, Chase." She said it with finality. "You suspected even that last day on the island. Every day after that, you just kept moving farther away from me. God, I literally felt the love melting off of you."

I didn't have much time to think. I didn't have much to think about. I kept thinking of the moves I'd already made, and which of those Charles had pre-empted.

I didn't have much choice. If I was going to mount a counter-offensive - and I would - it would need to be a new battle. I'd already lost this one.

Maria's story:

After our meeting broke up, I went and spent the rest of the day with my son. I needed that for myself, but I also couldn't bear to face my husband. Chase was an incredible man - the only man I could ever see myself being with long-term - and I'd destroyed what we had.

Conversely, I knew that I'd have to see this through for Matthew. I had no fantasies about reconciliation with Chase. No ditzy plans to wow him, and by no means was I about to grovel either.

I had no ill-conceived notions whatsoever. I wasn't stupid. I grew up in high society with some of the smartest people in America. Daddy owned twenty-seven factories between western Ohio and eastern Pennsylvania. He owned seven high-rise buildings in Manhattan. He owned property or brick-and-mortar in almost every country on both American continents.

He owned a lot of people too. Once I suspected Chase might know something, I called my father. Within hours, he had an entire team of people, loyal to him of course, working on solutions. They were likely his trusted legal and PR teams. By the end of that day, with dozens of text messages going back and forth, he'd helped me out of a potentially disastrous situation. Damage control at its finest, and certainly what I'd come to expect from my dad. He deserved it, after all. He'd built an empire for his family. I'd always counted on daddy, from as early on as I could remember.

It was back in my early college days, that I realized that most of the rich assholes were overly snobby - pretentious and ridiculously egotistical - to be precise. When Chase Burroughs made a surprise visit to our freshmen film class at USC, I was beside myself with excitement, and well, lust. After class, he stayed and signed a few autographs. When his eyes met mine, he seemed smitten as well. I almost fainted when he asked me out for coffee.

That was the beginning for us. Learning that Chase was only three years older than me was a surprise and a plus in my mind. The romance was hot and heavy, and I was in star-struck heaven.

My dad - not so much. Like he planned everything else, dad also had a plan for me and my life. He never counted on me being so intractable. Perhaps, it was my very DNA that contributed to my stubbornness in living my life the way I wanted to. I was the one who steered the marriage train, dropping subtle hints at every turn. I was the one who overdramatized my interest in the Desperation Island script, and how much I'd love to be part of a show like that. The baby was Chase's idea and I reluctantly went along.

As much as I loved Chase, and wanted with every fiber of my being to grow old with him and give him more children at some future point, I had to admit, there was a character flaw within me. I loved the attention - plain and simple - from both men and women. I thrived on it. For the women, it was always the envy that got me off. It's why I always tried to out-dress every other woman at a party. For the men, it was far more about sexual attention. The tense, thick air, while standing in a group talking, knowing a good-looking guy was fantasizing in great detail about what he'd be doing to and with me at that moment if we were alone. And of course, the occasional soft, quick brush of an arm or hand, from some guy, and then me trying to discern if it was intentional or not.

The differences between my flaw and my love were distinct. When Dak first came onto me, I brushed him off with the ease that had become familiar to me ever since growing boobs. But, he kept at it, and that in and of itself fueled my desire. The dance, at some point, became a sexual tension - an itch, really - that I desperately needed to be scratched.

Eventually, I allowed his seduction to happen, and I used him to quell my urgent need.

So, the question remained: could I ever be a good and faithful wife, to Chase or anyone else?

It was a big, but unanswered question - one I could not, with full certainty. So, I'd need to play the hand I'd been dealt. No, the hand that I'd dealt myself. I did this.

I was determined to be a good mom to my son and a good wife to my husband for as long as he'd have me. I didn't expect that would be very long, but hopefully, the sting would fade, and we'd all be in a better place when he finally decided to call it a day. If he played the victim after what we'd offered, or couldn't bring himself to have sex with me anymore, then I'd probably have a rendezvous with Dak from time to time. Hell, I'd probably have a few other hook-ups with hot actors I now knew.

Chase:

I signed the paperwork under duress - not because of Charles' goons, but my indecision.

Being able to 'one-up' or put Charles in his place, as well as punishing Maria and Dak, would have been the trifecta for me. I asked a few questions about covering nannies when we were both working and some other vague language. I'm sure I missed a lot too. Charles seemed quite proud of himself. He made no gesture of goodwill as he took the signed paperwork and stood to leave - tossing my unsigned copy on the table. He simply kissed Maria on the cheek and quietly told her not to fuck this up. His security detail followed him out and closed the door.

Now, left alone, Maria and Dak remained silent, finally turning to look at me.

"Get me a beer," I ordered Maria. "And you, fuck-nut, why are you still in my home?"

Dak rose and tried for a hug, which Maria refused by turning away. Bronson left without another word.

Maria returned after cleaning up her sad face and handed me my beverage. She looked like she had more to say, but thought better of it and turned away.

"Maria," I said softly, as she turned back around. "We're through, just so you know. I've already seen a divorce lawyer, so everything's already in the works. Obviously 'Daddy' forced that to be put on hold, but don't think that his silly maneuvering will make me a complacent cuckold."

"You can't," she said in an equally soft tone, "it's in the... daddy said..."

"It's on hold, for the moment," I corrected her. "Don't try to get me to bond with that bastard of yours. I won't watch him - I won't babysit while you're out fucking other guys. I'll do my best to treat him decently as a kid... as a human being. Otherwise, you and I are roommates at best. If I can figure out a way to fuck all of you over, I will. Make sure daddy knows that too. You'll have my schedule in advance. Per the contract, we'll be seen together in public twice per month, depending on our filming schedules."

She was wise to hold her tongue. The selfish bitch wasn't a moron. She and her father had won this round and bought a little time. I left shortly after, called Sal, and met him at a little dive bar near the studio, that celebrities go to when they don't want others snooping around.

"Man, this is fucked." He said it with compassion. "I'm sorry Chase. What are you thinking about for your next move?"

"I haven't thought," I replied a little spacey, "only reacting. I need to absorb all this for a day or so. I'm not even sure there's anything I can do. Charles has a lot of juice."

"Bullshit!" he exclaimed, his tone becoming more animated. "You are not giving up on this, you hear me? We need to start developing a plan for retaliation. I need Chase Burroughs at his best, for the new project. We start with Bronson. That would make any red-blooded man feel better right out of the chute. Tell your attorney about what happened - that you were coerced. Ask about other scenarios too. Learn from him for your new role. See if he thinks you should put a PI on Maria for a while. Start making a list of her habits, you know, like her time away from the home. See if you can get tracking software on her phone."

"Okay, okay, Sal!" I replied with a laugh. "I get it. Play hard ball - and I will. The postnup is actually beyond fair to me. Wilmington hates me, but it was almost like he was trying to teach his daughter a lesson."