As promised, Leslie returned again around four.
“Did you have a good day honey bunny?” She asked her husband as she dropped designer bags onto the kitchen counter.
There goes what remained in the BECKINGRIDGE ACCOUNT.
“Yeah fine,” he said. “I may be going away for a few days.”
Leslie was preoccupied emptying her bags.
“Oh? Did you get a new job?”
“Something like that.”
“That’s good pooky.” She took a jewellery box from the bag. Karrer. Diamond merchant. Expensive. “Did you cancel the reservation at Le Worde?”
He hadn’t even made it in the first place.
“No,” he lied. His acting skills coming into call once again.
“I was thinking, you’ve had such a hard time lately with that awful soap opera so you need to relax. Let’s just have a quiet night. Just you and me.”
Laurence smiled. Relief. No acting required.
Leslie took the jewellery boxes. “I’m going to pop these little gems in the safe.”
He hoped she wasn’t planning on wearing them any time soon. He was going to have to return them to get the flight back to COLDFORD.
“Pooky?” She called from the hallway sounding quite distressed. He found her staring into the safe. “Where’s mum’s pearls?”
Oh sugar covered shit stain!
“The last time you wore them they looked a little mucky. I sent them to get cleaned.”
Leslie batted her thick, black eye lashes and puckered. “Aren’t you just the sweetest?”
Laurence committed to the scene. “Not as sweet as you.” He rolled his eyes. “I was keeping it as a surprise.”
Leslie put her silk gloved hands to her mouth. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “Why don’t I run you a nice hot bath?”
“Only if you’ll join me.”
Get this man an award.
After a week stay at the HARBOUR HOUSE facility in the city Laurence was glad to get back to his rambling beach house in LUEN, away from it all, even if he came sans a kidney.
“The operation was a massive success,” said DR WINSLOW. “ With your kind and generous donation some poor soul with kidney disease will live to see another day – without dialysis.”
“So are we quits with the debt?” Asked the actor feeling a little queasy.
The doctor ignored him. “You know, it’s a pity I’m such a stickler for doctor/patient confidentiality because my patient would get such a kick out of knowing they had a kidney from the Laurence DuBoe. It would have drove the price up …” He turned to Laurence, sat upon a ward bed in the old house styled clinic, clutching his suitcase. He laughed. “Oh don’t look so concerned Laurence. We are talking about people who are clinging to life. They don’t really care where the kidney comes from, they’ll pay the price. We wouldn’t want to start some frenzy now would we?”
Laurence hadn’t thought about it like that before. People had wanted a lot of strange things from him before – signatures on breasts, spat on napkins, old play bills from some of his early plays.
So Laurence was sent home to complete his recovery. He told a distraught Leslie that he had sustained an injury on set and just needed to rest for a few days.
“Just give me a little tinkle on the bell and I’ll bring you whatever you need Loo Loo,” she had gushed, tucking him up in bed with a tray of tea, toast and his favourite orange marmalade.
He must have fallen back asleep. The trip from Coldford to Luen was a simple hour flight. He couldn’t have been jet legged.
“You have just been through major surgery,” he could hear Winslow saying.
It was almost two in the afternoon when he was awoken by the noise of the bells. Their house was large but he could hear voices. Mostly Leslie shrieking.
When he got downstairs he found two repo men carrying out expensive pieces of art.
“Oh Loo Loo!” Leslie rushed into his arms. “These men say we owe them money? That’s not possible? Tell them there must be some mistake.”
The repo men glanced at Laurence but they both had been doing their job long enough to deduce what had happened. He wouldn’t be the first husband to lie to his wife. Probably the first actor husband to make a complete scene of it though.
When the men had gone, leaving behind a notice detailing their return for more in a few days, Laurence sat Leslie down. He had no choice but to come clean to her. He explained what had happened. The drunk driving, the accident with Collette, the deal with Winslow, all of it.
“Oh poor Loo Loo!” She sobbed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“How could I?” He asked in the first honest statement he had made in weeks. “I was so ashamed and I thought I could solve it.”
“Should I call my sister?”
Leslie was one of four DOYLE sisters. Her eldest was KARYN, a HIGH COURT JUDGE who was not exactly known for her leniency.
“No,” stated Laurence. “Whatever you do, do not tell your sister!”
“Just how much trouble are we in?” Leslie asked.
Good question. With the repo men returning and no doubt more of them at their heel it was going to take more than a kidney to get Laurence out of this mess.
He should have just donated Collette.
check out the story so far:
March of Our Times (Opening night)
March of Our Times (Intermission)
March of our Times (Curtain Call)
Check out some of Vivika Widow’s thrilling novels.
Click HERE to read MUSE and join David as he tries to salvage his reputation in the art community