Free Sapphire and Shadow (A Woman's Life) by Marie Ferrarella Page A

very good-looking man. And charm, when he wanted it, could ooze through his very fingertips. There was a magnetism in his eyes, when they weren’t glazed over, she thought cynically, that held his audience, male or female, right where he wanted them.
    She supposed it was the memory of that, and nights of tenderness and pleasure, that kept her where she was, hoping, praying. Johanna alternated between despair and optimism when she thought of the future. Mostly, she thought, despair.
    Johanna saw people staring at them as they entered the vast hotel ballroom. Harry knew how to make an entrance, she thought, even when he walked silently into a room. Heads would turn, conversations would pause. Once that had been because he was the bright young director, the lightning-witted genius who could make a turnip cry or laugh at will, let alone a performer. Everyone wanted him to direct their picture, everyone wanted to be seen with him.
    Now, Johanna knew, the conversations stopped because fresh speculation would begin. Was he straight tonight? Would he make a fool of himself? How long before he’d fall on his face, or find a woman to seduce? And how long would it be before he destroyed himself completely? She had no doubts that bets were made as to the length of time it would take.
    Part of her heart ached for Harry, her Harry, the old Harry. And part of her felt that he was getting no less than he deserved. She prayed that perhaps the scorn of his peers and sub-peers, as he had begun to call them, would finally shake him up like nothing else could.
    Alicia Martin, her hair done up in a winged hairdo that seemed to wantonly defy gravity, her bosom nearly exposed in its entirety in a sapphire blue gown that bore a designer’s name and price, glided toward them like a shark cutting through the water to get to its prey. In her cool, regal manner she simultaneously nodded at Johanna and dismissed her. Her attention, for whatever reason, was entirely on Harry. She offered him both cheeks to be kissed.
    As he kissed her, she took hold of both of his hands in hers. “Harold, darling, we were beginning to think that perhaps you weren’t going to come.”
    His gaze lingered over her exposed breasts, then he cast a belittling glance at Johanna.
    Johanna wondered if he had managed to do a line or two of powder before they came, even though he had promised her, contemptuously enough, that he wouldn’t.
    “Johanna,” Harry informed Alicia, “was having second thoughts about coming tonight.”
    “Second thoughts?” The scarlet nails fanned out along the tanned expanse of breast.
    Harry was talking about her and staring at Alicia. Johanna felt her temper rising.
    “Second thoughts?” Alicia repeated, pouting prettily. “Should I be offended?”
    Johanna knew Alicia didn’t give a damn what she thought about the woman or her party. She wasn’t in the business of caring what wives thought. Only studio hierarchy mattered and it seemed that Alicia hadn’t decided whether or not Harry was down for the count.
    She’d be damned if she’d stand there like a mute. “It’s just that Paul—“ Johanna began.
    “Yes, yes, terrible tragedy, wasn’t it?” The dead did not matter. They didn’t make policy or money. Alicia linked her arm through Harry’s and was already leading him away. “But life is for the living, isn’t it?” she laughed wickedly into Harry’s face as she slowly rubbed her bosom against his arm.
    “—has only been dead a couple of days and I thought it wasn’t appropriate to attend a party just yet,” Johanna finished, determined to get the words out. For whatever good it did, she thought ruefully. She hated Alicia Martin, hated this party and hated herself for not saying no to Harry. He certainly wouldn’t have missed her if she hadn’t attended.
    Maybe that was why she had decided to come after all.
    “Talking to yourself, sweetie?” Arlene came up behind her. She was dressed in a black sequined floor