Kat’s words interrupted my thoughts. “Scott and I went to Mexico for our honeymoon. I hear the beach is lovely there.” She giggled. “We didn’t actually see it.”
Awkward.
“Oh, I know all about your trip to Mexico.” Erin waved a hand. “Trust me, I did my research on all of you before coming to work here. I could tell you pretty much anything you want to know about anyone in the cast or crew of Stars Collide. I’ve committed it all to memory.”
“O-oh?” Just how much did this girl know about me?
“I don’t know if you remember,” Erin said to Kat, “but you met my mama at a fund-raiser you did awhile back with Brock Benson.” Her eyes glazed over. “Have I mentioned he’s my favorite actor in all of television and movie history?”
“Then it’s your lucky day.” Kat glanced at the clock on the wall. “He should be here by now.”
“W-what?” For a moment, Erin looked as if she might faint. “Are you serious? You’re just teasing me, right?”
“He’s our guest star this week,” I said.
At this news, Erin promptly pulled out a compact and went to work adding lipstick and a touch of blush. “Sorry.” She giggled. “But if what you’ve just said is true, I have to be ready. A girl only gets to meet Brock Benson once in a lifetime . . . if she’s lucky.” Tears covered her lashes again. “I must be the luckiest girl in all of America today.” She drew in a breath, wiped away her tears, and grinned. “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.”
“Understandable.”
“Brock filmed a movie in Texas a few years back, and I tried to get a bit part just so I could breathe the same air as him. But I wasn’t able to, and it almost killed me. Seriously. I couldn’t get out of bed for three days. I’ve always been such a fan.”
As if on cue, the room flooded with people. Scott entered first, followed by Rex and the cast of kids. Brock was close behind them, carrying little Ethan on his shoulders. I thought Erin might take a tumble out of her chair when she saw him. We’d been fortunate to get the megastar for this episode, and even more fortunate that he’d been willing to take on the role of a Greek talent scout—a role far removed from anything he’d ever played in the movies. Most of his fans knew him as Jean Luc Dumont, the pirate you loved to hate. Or would that be hated to love? Anyway, he’d never played a talent scout before—that I knew of, anyway. And certainly not one named Basil.
Erin hurried over to Brock, her face aglow with excitement. Not that I blamed the girl. The guy was pretty much the hottest thing in Hollywood—literally and figuratively. Even I was a little weak in the knees when he came around, and I’d met more than my share of stars over the years.
“C-can I get you anything?” she stammered.
He looked her way, eyes lighting up as he took in her enthusiasm. “Sure. I’ll have a latte if you’ve got it.”
“If we don’t, I’ll drive to Starbucks and have one made for you. Or I’ll go to culinary school and learn to make one from scratch.” She turned to me, a frantic look on her face.
“Down the hall on the right. We have one of those coffeemakers that uses individual premixed cups. You’ll find a variety of them in the desk underneath. The latte’s on the right.”
“There is a God and he loves me.” She whispered the words then giggled. After turning to leave the room, she looked back at me, nearly tripping over herself in the process. “You want anything?”
I nodded and said, “Coffee. Black.” Not that I really liked my coffee black, but drinking it that way in front of others made me feel tougher somehow . . . like I didn’t need anything sweet to survive. At home I drank the real stuff—half coffee, half Italian sweet cream, two artificial sweeteners. Just the way I liked it.
Jason raised his hand, likely hoping to get Erin’s attention. “I’ll have a—”
Unfortunately, she didn’t see him, her gaze never leaving Brock as she backed out of the room. She returned moments later with my coffee in hand, sloshing a bit of it on the script. “Oh, pooh.” She put the coffee down on the table, then reached for a napkin to dry my script. Her hands trembled so violently I reached out and touched them to calm her down.
“It’s okay. Really.” I gave her an encouraging wink, and she moved on to give Brock his latte, then settled into the chair next to him. Convenient.
Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of Jason, who rose and left the room, whispering something about needing coffee.
Minutes later, everyone else joined us. Lenora sashayed in, wearing her white chiffon dress, and did a semi-arthritic spin to show it off.
“You look like a million bucks, kid,” Brock said with a wink.
“Seeing her in this dress makes me feel like a kid again,” Rex said as he pulled out Lenora’s chair. “I was barely a teenager when A Streetcar Named Desire came out.”
“One of my favorite movies.” Brock nodded and flashed a broad, white-toothed smile.
“Oh, Vivien Leigh was beautiful, wasn’t she?” Lenora released a contented sigh.
Rex ran the back of his hand across his wife’s cheek. “Not half as beautiful as you are right at this very moment.”
The whole room seemed to come to a standstill at his proclamation. His words—and Lenora’s teary reaction—held us spellbound. In fact, the scene they’d just inadvertently acted out in front of us was probably more emotional than any we’d filmed in weeks.
Still, we had work to do. And how could I call myself a director if I couldn’t manage to get a simple roundtable reading started?
I finally got control of the room, and Scott dove in, reading the first line. The story took several twists and turns, each one more humorous than the last. Before long, we were all laughing aloud, even the children. By the time we ended, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room.
“This is brilliant,” Brock said as he lifted his script in a triumphant manner. “The funniest thing I’ve ever read. No wonder you guys took home the Golden Globe back in January.”
High praise coming from a man whose last movie had garnered five Academy Award nominations.
“We’ve got some great writers.” As I looked Brock’s way, my gaze lingered on his gorgeous face—perhaps a moment too long. Still, who could blame me? No harm in looking, right?
Jason cleared his throat as he reentered the room. “Should be a lot of fun to film.”
I startled back to attention. “No doubt. Let’s get together and talk it through, okay?”
As he nodded, a hint of a smile creased his lips. I found myself torn between the prettier-than-a-picture actor seated across from me and the intriguing-sometimes-sarcastic-always-has-something-to-say-about-everything-even-the-things-I-don’t-care-to-talk-about cameraman taking a seat to my right.
Thank goodness I didn’t have to ponder this dilemma for long. Kat’s words interrupted my thoughts. “Tia, I love this whole episode, top to bottom, and I’m sure the viewers will too. I just think it’s hilarious that Angie goes into labor in an elevator and Scott—er, Jack—has to deliver the baby with Brock’s help. Pure genius.”
“My favorite part is that we don’t even know that Brock’s character is a rival talent scout.” Scott grinned. “Thinking he’s a gyro delivery guy is what makes it so brilliant.”
“And dressing Jack and Angie up like Mr. and Mrs. Easter Bunny is the icing on the cake,” Kat said. “I can’t even imagine how funny it’s going to be to add that element.” She giggled. “I also can’t imagine what it would be like to have that happen in real life. Can you?”
Frankly, no.
Still, I’d better respond. “Well, we figured since the show will air so late in the spring, it just makes sense. Jack and Angie are on their way to see the kids they represent at an Easter egg hunt. Brock’s character wants in on the action, so he sets himself up as a sandwich delivery guy to get into the party.”
“Hey, I love all of it.” Brock’s smooth voice caught my attention once again. I turned to look at him, again captivated by his gorgeous eyes. “It
will stretch me to use a Greek accent, but I think I can handle the role. I’ll work on it until I’ve got it right.”
“Oh, I feel sure you can handle anything you put your mind to.” Erin flashed a smile so bright you would’ve thought she was auditioning for a toothpaste commercial.
He returned the smile, his gaze lingering on her for a bit longer than one might expect.
“It’s going to be an award-winning episode,” Rex added. “I can feel it in my gut.”
Kat shifted in her chair. “I’m just curious, how are you going to keep things going when I’m on maternity leave?”
I’d been waiting for this conversation for weeks, so I dove right in. “I talked to the writers about that at length. We’ve got a plan of action for the last couple episodes of the season. Scott will play a larger role, and so will the children and several of last season’s elderly guests. And we’re hoping that Lenora will have more of a presence.”
Lenora’s cheeks turned the loveliest shade of pink. “Oh, I love having a presence.”
Kat flashed me a warning look. I knew she’d been worried about her grandmother’s fragile state ever since the Alzheimer’s diagnosis. Still, what could we do? Lenora wanted to continue on with the show, and who was I to turn away an aging Hollywood star—especially when we needed her as never before?
“I was a big star once, you know.” Lenora gave me a wink.
“You’re still a big star, my dear,” Rex said as he slipped an arm over her shoulder. “It’s the pictures that got small.”
She giggled and her cheeks flushed pink. “Oh, I love that line. Gloria Swanson said that in Sunset Boulevard.”
“In 1950.” Rex winked.
Lenora sighed. “Oh, movies and television were wonderful back in the old days. These days everything is so rushed, so much about ratings.”
“Well, keeping our audience happy is key. We’ve got to give them what they’ve come to expect from us—quality acting and great stories.” I turned to Kat. “But to answer your question, we’ve got it covered. Our audience has been following Angie’s pregnancy over the last several months. They know she’s about to deliver. So having her away from the show for a few weeks will be fine. But Rex and I decided that while Angie’s away, the mice will play.”
“The mice will play?” Kat and Scott looked confused.
“We’re thinking that it would be nice to keep Brock on the show through the end of the season. We’re talking only a few weeks, after all.”
A little gasp went up from Erin, who apparently liked this idea—a lot.
“If he’s really a rival talent scout and not a sandwich delivery guy, then imagine the possibilities. Maybe he tries to steal some of the kids away from the agency.”
“Ooo, can I be stolen away too?” Lenora clasped her hands together and giggled as she batted her eyelashes at Brock. “What fun!”
“Well, we were thinking of Candy’s character first,” I said. “She might be a little diva, but we’ve set her up as the agency’s biggest moneymaker. It would be fun to have Brock’s character try to snatch her away from the Stars Collide agency and make money off her.”
“What’s the name of this talent agency I’m running, anyway?” Brock asked. “Just curious.”
“I think the writers came up with A&B Talent, which is short for Above & Beyond. Your character will pull actors away from Stars Collide by claiming that you can take them above and beyond where they’ve been in their careers. You’ll be sort of a Pied Piper character, playing a mesmerizing tune.”
“Very devious of me.” Brock scrunched his eyebrows in a devilish fashion and Erin stared at him, clearly ready to follow this handsome Pied Piper anywhere he might lead.
“Your sole purpose will be to woo people away,” I added. “And like your pirate character, you’ll be the bad guy we love to hate. The one everyone ends up falling in love with.”
He rubbed his hands together. “Now that’s a role I can get into.”
“It’s perfect,” I agreed. “Just the thing we need to keep the momentum going.”
“And keeping the momentum going is what we’re all about, right?”
I turned Jason’s way, wondering at the hint of sarcasm in his voice. Why would he say such a thing, at least publicly? Of course we had to keep the momentum going. What else could we do?
Just about the time I gave myself over to the feelings of frustration rising inside of me, I noticed someone humming a familiar melody. I glanced across the table at Erin, who clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oops, sorry.” She giggled. “I hum all the time. Can’t help it. Mama says I was born with a song in my heart, and it’s hard to stop it.”
“Don’t ever try to stop it.” Brock patted her shoulder. “And if I do say so myself, we could all stand a little song now and again.”
As I dismissed the crew, Jason lingered. I rose, albeit reluctantly, and reached for my copy of the script, still puzzled by his words. Maybe he would stick around long enough to explain.
Erin drew near, her face glowing with excitement. “That was great, Tia. I just know that the show is going to take off like a rocket, especially if you keep Brock Benson on. He’s so . . . yummy.”
Jason rolled his eyes.
I offered a little shrug. “I see great things ahead, and I think it all went well today. It’s a rare day when everyone catches the vision.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Jason stood and stretched. “I think half the battle is sharing the vision in a way that makes people want to latch on.”
“I’m just saying that whenever Athena and Stephen and the other writers come up with their ideas, they can see it all on paper. They tell those characters what to do and they do it. But then they pass the script off to actors who don’t always see the vision as clearly.” I paused, ready to admit the truth. “I’m not saying I always catch their vision either. But this is a team effort. I spend a lot of time every week talking things through with the writing team. And with Rex.”
“Well, anyway, I think it went great too.” Erin’s face lit into the cutest grin, and then she began to hum again. She made her way out of the room, which left me alone with Jason.
“I owe you an apology.” He sighed. “What I said was rude.”
Yeah, it was.
“Well, I guess we just have different ways of looking at things,” I said. “But we’re on the same team . . . right?”
“Right.” He nodded, his gaze lingering on me. Out in the hallway, someone called his name and he turned to leave. As he reached the door, he looked back and shrugged. “Forgive me?”
“Of course.”
“I think I’m just used to bantering with you. It’s a hard habit to break.”
Interesting.
The smile that followed his words pulled me in, like the Pied Piper playing his merry tune. Still, I couldn’t figure out why Jason had embarrassed me in front of the group. The apology was a nice touch—and so was that line about liking to banter with me. Still, his initial words hit me the wrong way.
I found myself drawn back to that melody Erin had been humming. Seemed eerily familiar. As I slipped into the ladies’ room, I heard it again, this time coming from one of the stalls. Listening closely, I realized she was singing a song I hadn’t heard in years.
“Oh, you can’t get to heaven on roller skates. You’ll roll right by those pearly gates.”
In a flash, I was eight years old again, singing with the other kids who attended the inner-city street church. Strange that I’d been trying to skate my way into all sorts of worlds that weren’t mine—then and now.
I pushed back the memory and focused on the day ahead.
Monday evening, I made the drive back to my house in Bel Air West with that goofy roller skating song on my mind. At least it helped to prepare me for the inevitable situation at home. Though I’d owned my sixties-era house off of Mulholland for a couple of years, I’d barely made a dent in the renovations. Putting my out-of-work brother, Carlos, in charge o
f the demo and rebuild had been a misguided act of faith. Still, what could I do? My heart went out to his wife, Maria, and to their little ones. He needed the work, and I needed my home renovated. Surely he would pull this off—with a little prayer and a lot of begging. Besides, he’d called on Humberto, my middle brother, to help. Humberto was always good for a laugh, if nothing else.
I arrived at the house, pausing at the front step to draw in a deep breath and usher up a “Lord, please help me” before unlocking the door. Knowing what awaited me on the other side made me wish I could turn around and head back to the studio. Instead, I bravely slid the key into the lock and turned the handle.
I tried not to groan aloud as I laid eyes on the mess in my large entryway. Ladders. Paint cans. Half-hung Sheetrock, semi-floated. And dust as far as the eye could see. The sweeping stairway was littered with Coke cans and even a couple of beer bottles. Lovely. Apparently my brothers hadn’t made much progress today. Then again, they’d been moving too slowly all along. Many times I’d wished I could snap my fingers—or wiggle my nose like Samantha on Bewitched—and watch the rooms in my home take shape.
Unfortunately, wriggling my nose had only given me an itch. Or maybe it was the dust. Sure enough, I felt a sneeze coming on. “Ah-ah-ah-choo!”
After regaining my composure, I decided to slip out of my work attire and into what I’d taken to calling my real work outfit—a pair of gray sweats and a faded T-shirt with the LAFS logo on the front. Might as well support the alma mater in style.
Before starting, I flipped on the television and grabbed a yogurt container from the fridge. Nothing like dinner and a movie before floating Sheetrock. Not that I knew how to float Sheetrock exactly, but I’d watched Carlos and Humberto do it, and it didn’t look that difficult. And I had to figure that if Carlos could do it with a beer in one hand, certainly I could attempt it sober and two-handed. I hoped.
Suddenly I heard Benita’s words in my head: “Never do a job that can be pawned off on a man.” God bless my sister. She’d become skilled in the art of pawning. Still, I had to wonder if she would ever learn to do anything on her own, without assistance from the male species. Short of applying makeup, anyway.
The Director's Cut Page 3
