Hello, Hollywood!

by Janice Thompson

“Who cares?” Bob said. “He’ll only have to sing a line or two, then he’ll call Jack up onto the stage to finish the song. He’s going to be perfect.”

  “I’m still not sure about this,” I said. “Besides, if we use a recorded song, we’ll have to pay royalties. That’s problematic.”

  “We use recorded music all the time.” Paul gave me a pensive look. “Besides, advertisers pay for all that stuff. So what’s the big deal?”

  “You don’t like this idea, Athena?” Bob asked.

  I shrugged, unsure of how I felt right now. With so much coming at me so fast, maybe I just needed time to process it. If we threw Angie into a pregnancy, it would change absolutely everything about the dynamics of the show. Did we want to do that? All to bring the ratings up? Would it even work, or would it backfire on us?

  “I think we need to slow down a minute,” I said after thinking things through. “I’m not sure the time is right to add a pregnancy this season. It’s not settling well with me, and I’ll bet it won’t go over well with Rex either.” I could only imagine the look on his face if we tried to pass on this news to him. We could very well throw him into a panic. Then again, he was the one who’d pushed to get Angie and Jack hitched last season. Maybe he’d love this idea.

  “Have some olives.” Bob passed the jar my way. “Nothing like a kalamata to break down your defenses so we can talk you into this.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “What?” He feigned innocence. “It’s a brilliant idea, Athena. Admit it. Solves so many problems and increases our opportunity ten times over. Maybe a hundred.”

  The two guys rambled on and on about Kat—er, Angie’s—baby. A boy. Somewhere along the way Bob started calling him “Little Ricky.”

  I sat in my chair, mouth closed, completely zoned out. I somehow managed to finish off the jar of olives—well, all but one—along with three cookies. Okay, four. But who would notice? The guys were off in sitcom land, rewriting the old black-and-white television shows from days gone by. Me? I just wanted to keep this modern-day show alive. And I wasn’t sure that impregnating the sitcom’s female lead was the way to go about it. Not that I had any better ideas.

  At some point Bob took a seat on the sofa next to me and kicked off his shoes. His stinky, sock-covered feet landed on the coffee table just inches from where I sat. From the look—and smell—of things, those socks hadn’t been changed in a couple of days. Disgusting. Who could think with that sort of distraction?

  I squeezed my eyes shut, ready to focus on a plan of action, one we could all live with. Strange, I could only see Kat—er, Angie—with a baby bump. She would kill me if we went through with this. And no telling what Lenora would do. In her current state of mind, she would probably think Kat was really pregnant. Did we want to stir up that kind of drama? My mind reeled as I contemplated the complications this plot twist could cause.

  “Athena? You still with us?” Paul drew near and knelt at my side. “You haven’t said anything for the last several minutes.”

  Thank goodness I didn’t have to answer. The phone rang, startling me. I picked it up and recognized Rex’s voice.

  “Athena, I’m headed down to your office in a few minutes,” he said. “Lots going on, so we need to talk. Gather the troops.”

  “Talk? About what?” My heart began to race.

  “Big news from network execs,” he said. “It’s important that we get some things settled, okay?”

  “O-okay.” I hung up the phone, more unnerved than ever.

  “Who was that?” Bob asked.

  I managed only three words: “The man upstairs.” My thoughts gravitated to our sitcom characters, Angie and Jack. What sort of parents would they be? Would they offer their children the ideal home environment, like my mom and dad had, or would they argue and fight over every little thing?

  Athena, are you actually thinking about this pregnancy angle?

  Hmm. Maybe I was. In fact, the more I thought about it, the greater the appeal. Like the guys said, it would add conflict to the show and would give us a really cool way to wrap up the season when the time came. Boy, could we add a lot of humor. And the possibilities for conflict were everywhere, especially if the pregnancy caused Angie to have to step back from her workload.

  Within minutes, Paul and Bob had me talked into the nutty idea. I could almost hear my father’s voice in my head now: You know what Aristotle said, Athena-bean. “No one ever creates anything great without a dash of madness.” Right now I felt plenty mad. In a wacky, creative sort of way. And why not? This might turn out to be a lot of fun. Or it might just be the end of my career, but at least I’d go out with a smile on my face.

  “When did Rex say he was coming?” Paul asked.

  “Any time now. Why?”

  “Because . . .” Bob quirked a brow, then reached into the toy box behind the desk—the one he’d lovingly named the Muse. He came out with a soccer ball, which he passed my way. “Put this on.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Stick it under your shirt. That’s how we’ll tell Rex about the pregnancy idea. He’ll get a kick out of it.” Bob snorted. “Get it? A kick out of it?” He pointed to the soccer ball, then doubled over in laughter.

  “Oh no you don’t.” I shook my head and pressed the ball back into his hands. “Not gonna do it. You can’t make me. There’s got to be a better way to break the news.”

  “You’re such a girl.” Paul groaned as he looked on. “Why don’t females ever just go along with things? Why do they always have to argue?”

  I started to respond but decided it would probably come out sounding like an argument, so I capped it. Bob tossed the ball my way, startling me. I caught it midair and sighed. Okay, I would play along. They’d never let me hear the end of it if I didn’t.

  I turned away from the guys and wriggled the soccer ball up under my new white blouse. As I did, that sick, squeamish, “you’re gonna regret this” feeling washed over me. Still, I couldn’t chicken out now, could I? Not after what Paul had said about females.

  With the ball situated, I turned back to face the guys and shrugged. “Okay, so what do you think?”

  Paul looked at me, a little bug-eyed, but said nothing at first. He finally managed a weak, “Wow.”

  “You look like the real deal, Athena,” Bob added, his voice now lowered to a whisper. “Ironic.”

  “Ironic? What do you mean?”

  “Kind of Virgin Mary–like,” Bob said.

  “Virgin Mary?” I asked. “Did we have to go there?”

  “Well, didn’t you tell me once that Athena was the virgin patron of Athens?” Bob scratched his head and gave me a closer look. “Just seems weird to see her in the family way.”

  “This was your idea, remember?” I stared down at my baby bump, ready to snatch it out and forget the whole thing. “This is ridiculous. I’m not going through with it. There’s got to be some other way to break the news to Rex without publicly humiliating myself. Let’s skip this.”

  “No, wait. We’ll all do it, then you won’t be alone.” Bob grabbed a basketball, which he shoved under his T-shirt. Then he tossed a football to Paul, who attempted to do the same. His belly ended up looking pretty lopsided, but that didn’t really matter. He just made a joke out of it, one that brought a much-needed smile to my face. Within seconds, we were all doubled over in laughter. In fact, I got so carried away that I had to hang onto my belly to keep my soccer baby from falling out.

  I reached for the olive jar and popped the final olive into my mouth just as a rap sounded at the door. Before we could open it, it swung wide and Rex stepped through.

  Bob belted out, “We’re having a baby, my baby and me,” with Paul chiming in on the last couple of words.

  I would have joined them, but the words lodged in my throat as I caught a glimpse of the man standing directly behind Rex in the doorway.

  Tall. Dark, wavy hair. Perfectly sculpted face.

  Adonis.

  There are those
moments in life when you wish you could just dive under the covers and hide. As I stood with soccer belly extended, facing the handsomest man the Lord had ever placed on Planet Earth, I had the craziest desire to do just that. Fortunately—or unfortunately—I never had the opportunity.

  Rex looked my way with a fatherly gaze, his eyes narrowing as he took in my midsection. Then he looked back and forth between Bob and Paul, the worry lines between his eyes growing exponentially. For a moment he said nothing. Well, with his voice, anyway.

  “I can’t leave you kids alone for a minute, can I?” he said at last. “What are you cooking up in here?”

  “Follow the clues, Rex.” Bob waddled across the room, hands cupped around his shirt-covered basketball to emphasize his faux pregnancy. “Do you get it? Can you solve the mystery?”

  Rex’s gaze narrowed further, and he raked his hand through wisps of thinning white hair. “You’re all in need of psychiatric help?”

  Paul snorted. “We’ve always known that. Try again.”

  Bob punched Paul in the arm, and his basketball baby came rolling out. I would have mentioned it, but I couldn’t seem to stop looking at Adonis, who now leaned against the doorjamb, his face lit with a half smile as he quietly observed the goings-on. The handsome stranger shifted his gaze to me. For a moment our eyes locked. Bluebirds sang. The earth stopped spinning. My heart shifted into overdrive.

  Then his gaze gravitated to my belly. Ack! I shook off my daydream, realizing what an idiot I must look like. Still, how could I get the soccer ball out without making a bigger spectacle of myself? I’d wedged it in there pretty tight.

  By now, Paul had removed the football from under his shirt, leaving me the only expectant writer in the room. Lovely. The virgin patron of Athens, all alone in her ninth month of pregnancy.

  Rex looked my way. “Athena? Something you want to tell me?”

  “Um, well . . .” Think, Athena. Be quick on your feet. I mustered up all the courage within me and began to sing in melodramatic fashion: “We’re having a baby . . .”

  “My baby and me!” Bob and Paul chimed in.

  We all paused and stared at Rex, who still looked dumbfounded. Clearly, he didn’t get it.

  At this point, Adonis spoke his first words. “You’re . . . you’re having a baby?”

  “Not me personally,” I said, feeling a rush of warmth to my face. “Angie’s having a baby. This season. If Rex likes the idea, I mean.”

  “Angie’s having a baby?” Adonis continued to stare, and I suddenly felt as if he could see all the way down into my soul. Weird.

  “Yes, we want to write a pregnancy revelation into the next episode.” I did my best to look self-assured as I turned back to Rex, looking directly into his eyes. “What do you think?”

  Adonis’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “We’re going to have to talk about that one, now aren’t we?”

  What happened next was like a scene from The Twilight Zone. Everything shifted to slow motion. Bob turned, mouth hanging, to face Adonis. He said something, but it came out sounding like a muddy, “Wa, wa, wa.”

  Adonis responded by narrowing his gaze. Paul coughed—an exaggerated, lengthy cough. And I . . . well, I found myself having one of those weird out-of-body experiences that so often accompany panic attacks. Heat washed over me, and I reached for a bottle of water, ready to get back to reality.

  Did that guy just say what I thought he said?

  I turned to face him, completely befuddled by his brazen words. Who did this fellow think he was, chiming in on our script writing?

  Rex chuckled, which lifted the mood in the room, if only for a second. “Guess the cat’s out of the bag.” He paused and cleared his throat. “I brought Stephen down here to make introductions.”

  Stephen? Well, that answered one question. Handsome had a name. Other than Adonis, anyway. And he clearly had something to do with the decision making of the show. But what? Did he represent one of our sponsors, perhaps? If so, he’d better be prepared for a battle.

  Rex smiled and patted the stranger on the back as if they were old friends. “He’s going to join the writing team, as of tomorrow. Stephen’s got some great ideas regarding this season’s first few episodes. I think you’re going to love them . . . and him.”

  Every bit of enthusiasm about the upcoming episode slithered out of the room at Rex’s announcement. I found myself wondering if perhaps I’d misunderstood.

  “W-what?” I managed.

  “I’m so glad to be here,” Adonis said. He extended his hand. I took it, noticing at once his firm grip. I’d always loved a man with a firm grip. However, I had to wonder if this particular man had a grip on something far bigger than my hand. My job, for instance. Did he plan to weasel his way in and take my position as head writer?

  Rex gave me an odd look, and I realized I still hadn’t said anything. Neither had Adonis released his hold on my hand. I wanted to pull it away, but something kept me hanging on.

  “Welcome . . .” What did he say his name was again?

  “Stephen. Stephen Cosse.”

  “Welcome, Stephen. Nice to meet you. I’m Athena Pappas.”

  If you’re here to take my job, think again. I’m not going anywhere, mister. Four seasons I’ve been with this show. Four seasons. Try that on for size.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you, Athena.”

  “O-oh?” I could only imagine.

  Stephen flashed a winning smile, then turned toward Bob, who grunted out his name and tossed his basketball back in the toy box. He returned to the divan and pulled his laptop onto his knees.

  Paul introduced himself, then settled behind his desk, where he dove into his salad. Without the fork. For once I didn’t care. Let him make a bad first impression. What did it matter?

  Rex took a couple of steps in my direction. “I don’t want to discount what you’ve planned for this week’s episode, Athena. Are you serious about this baby idea? If so, we need to talk. I know we mentioned it a while back, but nothing was set in stone.”

  At the word baby, I went into a panic. I still looked nine months pregnant.

  “Oh, well, I—” I turned and wriggled the ball out of my shirt, my thoughts a jumbled mess. How dare Rex spring a new writer on us without telling us first? Okay, so maybe he’d mentioned the possibility of network executives bringing in someone new, but to actually do it without consulting me, the show’s head writer? Talk about insulting. “We’re pretty serious about the idea,” I managed at last, gripping the ball as if my life depended on it. “But nothing’s written in stone yet.”

  Give us an hour or two and it will be.

  “That’s good,” Stephen said, offering his first hint of a smile. “Because the show is at a crossroads, and I’m not sure the time is right to go there yet. Maybe in a few weeks, but not yet. I guess we can talk about all of that later, though. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together and coming up with some great ideas as a team.”

  “Humph.” Paul looked up from his salad, then snatched a piece of near-wilted lettuce and popped it into his mouth, his gaze shifting to the piano.

  From his spot on the divan, Bob muttered something indistinguishable. I did my best to ignore him. If Adonis—er, Stephen—was here to stay, we should make the best of things.

  Rex placed his hand on my arm, redirecting my thoughts. “Athena, I’m going to take Stephen around and introduce him to the cast and crew. Want to come with?”

  I plastered on a smile and nodded. “Sure. Love to.” Actually, I did want to see the look on Kat’s face when she met this fellow firsthand. Would she recognize him from Saturday?

  I gave him another look, setting his physicality to memory. Tall. Probably six-four. And handsome didn’t even begin to describe it. The guy looked like something off a GQ cover, only better. Another glance at that perfectly sculpted jawline convinced me he was definitely better than a GQ cover. And here he stood—in my office!

  Just as quickly, my mind-set changed.
He might be handsome, but I wouldn’t let my guard down. I couldn’t afford to.

  Jana from our wardrobe department was going to flip. She’d already managed to fall in love with every guy on the crew over the past three years. Of course, none of her relationships stuck, but still. She’d probably love to get her hooks into this one. And what about Nora, our hair and makeup girl? Likely she would fall in love with Stephen’s jet-black hair. Thick. Wavy. Perfectly styled.

  Focus, Athena. Don’t let the enemy trap you in his snare.

  I followed Rex and Stephen out the door and down the long hallway toward the studio. Once there, we found Kat and Scott rehearsing their lines with our show’s director, Tia Morales. Bob had taken to calling her Tia the Terror due to her brusque personality. How would our tough-as-nails captain take the news of the addition to our Stars Collide family?

  It didn’t take me long to find out. Tia turned toward us, her dark eyes widening in surprise as she caught a glimpse of Stephen. Usually one to speak her mind, she barely managed two sensible words as introductions were made. Great. He’d managed to knock her off her feet with only a glance.

  Then again, he’d left a similar first impression on me.

  “Wardrobe fit, everyone.”

  I turned as Jana’s voice rang out. She entered the room with an armload of costumes, stopping cold as soon as she saw Stephen. Her jaw dropped and she lost her grip on the costume pieces. Stephen managed to catch them as they fell, sweeping in like a white knight on a steed.

  Go ahead, look like a hero. Just wait till they see you’re here to snag more than wardrobe pieces. You’ve come to steal my job. Then see what kind of reception you’re going to get.

  “Th-thank you.” Jana’s eyelashes fluttered as she regained her hold on the items, and her cheeks turned the prettiest shade of cotton-candy pink. Nothing like a little girlish flirting to make a boy sit up and take notice.

  “Of course.” He flashed a winning smile, showing off his pearly whites.

  For a moment it kind of felt like I’d tripped and landed between the covers of some cheesy romance novel. One with a great cover model, sure, but with just enough stupidity in the story to make you wonder why you’d wasted your money. The kind of book you usually ended up throwing against a wall.