by R. T. Jordan
Elizabeth blanched, “Harvard was a surefire ticket to a Kennedy,” she said. She quickly calmed down. “But Hollywood could mean an Orlando Bloom or George Clooney. Here is where make believe becomes reality. Missie’s living proof. She’s a triple threat. Can’t sing. Can’t dance. Can’t act. But she’s got a look that’s popular for the moment. I’ve gotta cash in while I can! If I could just convince her to join Scientology, she might even get a contract with Tom the next time he’s available. Then she’d be made!”
Missie returned to the room just in time to hear her mother’s comments. “Elizabeth’s my most ardent supporter,” she said with an edge of sarcasm in her voice. “At least you didn’t tell them that my chest is flatter than Debra Messing’s,” she said to her mother. Addressing her guests she said, “I’m in a few hit movies—they call me a star, which I know I’m not—and Mother makes sure that none of the studio publicity hype goes to my head. How did I get so lucky?” She rolled her eyes.
“You’re turning out to be just like that beastly Dana Pointer you hang out with,” Elizabeth complained.
“We don’t ‘hang out,’ Mother. We’re colleagues,” Missie politely corrected. Then, as she offered Polly the first flute of champagne she said, “I suppose mothers always worry about their kids, don’t they Miss Pepper?” Missy said, making Polly the center of attention again. “I know that what Mom is saying is simply an expression of deep love and devotion for me. Or so my analyst keeps trying to convince me, at three hundred per.”
Polly agreed. “Absolutely, my dear,” she said, determined to stick to Tim’s script that demanded she maintain dignity at all costs. “I can tell that Elizabeth is as proud of you as I am of my Timmy.” She lied. “I dread the day he leaves home. But I have to prepare for the moment he meets Mr. Right. Or when he decides that living in a twenty-seven room mansion in Bel Air on a pastoral estate complete with an Olympic size pool, his own Beemer, as well as an allowance and a no limit expense account at Barney’s, is no longer a turn-on.”
Tim shot Polly a look of mortification.
“‘Someday he’ll come along, the man I love,’” Missie sang, as she passed the tray of champagne flutes to Placenta and winked at Tim. She then set a flute down on a glass-top table beside her mother’s chair. “But I have no illusions about this business,” she continued her examination of her own celebrity. “I’m simply the flavor of the week. I accept that. Eventually we all make the ‘Dead or Alive?’ quiz.”
Then, standing in the center of the room facing her guests and holding a glass of champagne, Missie proposed a toast. “To this happy occasion when Mother and I finally have the opportunity to play host to our favorite star, Miss Polly Pepper.”
Polly smiled as broadly as she would for Barbara Walters. Tim, Placenta, and Elizabeth raised their glasses.
“Please, my dear,” Polly said, working on her humble act, “I’m a great admirer of your work, too. And call me Polly. We’re practically old friends. I offer a toast to you and your career, which is sure to shine bright for many more weeks…er, years…to come!”
Tim cringed at his mother’s overplaying her role.
Everybody in the room took a sip from their glasses and expressed satisfaction. “Please help yourselves to the hors d’oeuvres, too,” Missie encouraged, pointing to the trays of pate, mini quiches, a bowl of humus, and another basket of toasted pita bread chips.
“Darling,” Polly addressed Missie, after half of the champagne in her glass had been consumed, “I’m so sorry if we’re early for your party. I hope we didn’t throw you off.”
“Everybody else is late,” Missie said. “As a matter of fact, it’s not much of a party, per se. Nothing like the storied affairs from Pepper Plantation. Hint, hint. I’d love an invitation some time. I’m just having a few people in from the show before we have go back to work on Monday. But I wanted to include you because I thought it might be our only opportunity to meet in person, since things didn’t work out with Trixie Wilder’s role, bless her soul. I’d rather spend the evening with just the five of us than with the prickly group I’ve invited.”
“Someday I’d like to hear the details of what actually happened with that role,” Polly said as discreetly as possible. “My lovely and talented agent, J. J. told me so little.”
“Isn’t J. J. adorable?” Missie gushed. “I think it’s so rad that we share the same agent!”
“Yes. ‘Rad,’” Polly tried to smile. “Not that it matters, but really, why didn’t I at least get to read for the part?”
“Simple,” Missie offered. “Although everyone agreed that you were perfect for the role, damn Dana has casting approval, and she’s a big fan of ‘Monarchy’. It’s rerun all the time and she wanted Sedra. Nothing personal,” she added.
Polly took a deep breath trying hard not to show her hurt feelings. “Just as J. J. said,” Polly lied, addressing Tim and Placenta, letting them know that she was in control and maintaining her poise.
“I still don’t want that tramp Dana Pointer in our house,” Elizabeth said. “The fans you’re gaining expect you to be the good girl. Hanging out with Dana will blow your façade!”
Missie ignored her mother’s outburst and sat against the upholstered arm of Polly’s chair. “Quite honestly,” Missie said, placing a hand on Polly’s forearm, “I really wanted you in the movie. I’m terrified of returning to the set. I adored Trixie Wilder—the one time we met. She was a sweet old lady. But I haven’t heard anything nice about her replacement, Sedra Stone. I thought that if we did a social thing with her here at the house, she might take it easy on me—the new girl. They say she’s a director-eating dragon.”
Polly looked up at Missie, and her smile masked how peeved she was. “She and I have bitched and fought with each other over silly things like, oh, let’s say—adultery with my husbands,” Polly said.
Placenta suddenly choked on a cracker and a dollop of thick humus, while Tim, too, coughed loudly when he accidentally swallowed a sip of champagne that went down the wrong pipe.
Polly continued, “Quality people like Carol Burnett and Mary Tyler Moore have sworn they’d never work with Sedra again. Dear Angie Lansbury is too gracious to make any public comment on their feud. And I think poor Renee lost her sight for several hours after stumbling upon the frightening scene of Sedra in the sack with her hubby Kenny.” Polly paused for a moment and beamed a brilliant smile before adding, “But that doesn’t mean you two won’t get along.”
Then, as an added word of caution Polly said, “But don’t let her know who you’re sleeping with or he’ll soon be kissing her behind instead of your lips!”
Suddenly, with the shattering effect of a firecracker blasting through the silence of a church, a voice refracted in the atmosphere of the room. “Christ, what an act!” All eyes in the room immediately found Sedra Stone leaning against the arched entry into the living room with her arms folded across her ample chest. Dana Pointer was by her side. “Carol, Mary, Angie, and Renee?” Sedra scoffed. “Are those the only stars you can pull out from under your gray roots to insult me? Sticks and stones may break my bones—or in Trixie Wilder’s case, her fragile little skull—but the names of old celebrities whom I loathe anyway will never hurt me.” She laughed evilly. “We let ourselves in. Hope you don’t mind, Prissy.”
As Polly struggled to maintain her promised grace and composure, Missie stood up and smiled brightly. “Miss Stone!” she called enthusiastically. “You found us! Welcome to our little home!” She turned to her mother. “Look who’s here, Mum. It’s your favorite star!”
Polly looked at Tim who looked at Placenta who looked back at Polly. “As you said,” Polly reminded Elizabeth. “All the good ones are gone.”
Chapter 7
Polly reached over and swiped Placenta’s champagne glass from out of her hand and with one long swallow she drained the flute. “It’s only my fourth,” she snapped, before Placenta could object and pass judgment. “It’s medicinal. Tim said that I
could…”
Placenta glowered. “Tim said, ‘Audrey Hepburn!’”
Remembering her pledge, Polly reeled herself in. Proving her commitment to their covert operation, she turned and looked at Sedra Stone across the room. She called out, “Congratulations on the film role, my dear. I trust you’ll make your line a memorable one.”
Sedra looked over at Polly and abandoned her conversation with Missie. She casually pushed herself away from the archway, arrogance beaming from her phony smile as she walked the short distance to where Polly was seated. Then, looking down her imperious nose at her rival she smiled and said, “It only takes one good line, dear. We all remember, When Harry Met Sally.” Sedra imitated Estelle Reiner’s “‘I’ll have what she’s having.’ However, this darling girl, Dana, has arranged for Trixie’s…er, my role to be embellished—just a tad.”
Dana, who, like a devoted puppy, had tagged along beside Sedra, didn’t bother to greet Polly or the others officially. She simply picked up the thread of the conversation and huffed, “A tad? I got you pivotal.”
Sedra nodded in self-satisfaction. “How do you like them egg rolls, Mr. Goldstone?” she bragged to Polly.
At first glance Dana was nearly a Sedra Stone clone. They were dressed in similar V-neck halter top cocktail dresses with matching rhinestone belts. Dana continued boasting of her generosity. “No one would have believed that I’d have a grandmother as ancient as that Trixie Whatshername. If my dimwitted agent had told me sooner that that old spinster had been hired, I’d have fired her bony ass before she’d placed an orthopedic shoe on the set and wasted all our time. The important thing is that she did leave.”
“If not of her own volition,” Polly said.
“If there’s one thing Sedra’s taught me,” Dana plodded on, “it’s that almost nobody in this business knows a rat’s ass about what they’re doing.
“If I don’t take control of my projects, I’m screwed. The part of Catharine actually works now that she’s younger and gets to have a sex life, like normal people. Trixie did me—and herself—a favor by dropping dead. She was in the way.”
Hidden underneath Polly’s mask of Max Factor base make-up #12, her face drained of its color as she simmered in the truth that not only was Dana as crass and self-absorbed as the tabloids depicted her, but it seemed that she’d become Sedra’s protégé. It wasn’t enough for Sedra to have copped the role that Polly wanted, but she also coerced Dana into turning it into far more than just a one-scene day player’s job.
“A favor,” Polly said. “Yes, Trixie was a great one for doing good deeds. But as she drew her last breath I doubt that she was thinking only of saving your little film and career, dear.” Polly made the sign of the cross.
“Dana was being facetious,” Sedra cracked. “I’m sure that she was as shocked and upset by the tragedy as everyone else.”
Polly was aching to tell Dana in graphic detail where she could put her facetious comments and her big budget movie. Instead she demurely said, “You’re blessed to have a Hollywood guru, my dear. Surely, Sedra’s the right mentor to help you navigate through the perilous mine field of this treacherous industry. Almost like a wise stage mother. Or rather a stage grandmother.”
Tim, anticipating the possibility of a public altercation, left his place on the sofa and protectively sidled up to Polly. He sat on the arm of her chair, poured what remained in his own champagne glass into hers, and politely reintroduced himself to Sedra. He was surprised that she seemed genuinely pleased to see him again.
“Darling,” she oozed, and leaned down to kiss him on both cheeks. With his heart-melting charm, Tim turned to Dana Pointer. He extended his hand. “I saw you in Bummer,” he said.
For the first time since arriving at Missie’s home, a smile crossed Dana’s lips. As she shook Tim’s hand her brown eyes made an obvious tour of his handsome and dimpled face, wide shoulders and the cut of his shirt, which she surmised covered a muscled torso. “Cool,” she said, pleased with his remark. She involuntarily gave her hair a seductive flip. “I like to meet my fans, especially when they’re…”—she raised an eyebrow and lowered her voice—“…studs. What did you say your name was?”
Sedra interrupted. “Isn’t he adorable? This is my little Timmy.”
“Yours?” Dana marveled.
“It’s not what you think. Unfortunately. No, I just married a couple of his fathers,” Sedra corrected Dana’s impression.
“But I’ve practically watched him grow up to be…well look at him.” Sedra nudged Dana in the shoulder. “How deep can a cleft in the chin go before it’s obscene?” She looked him over with the same amount of lust as had Dana.
Polly was completely disgusted by Sedra—a woman her own age making it clear that she wouldn’t mind a wrestling match with Tim. “Apparently it’s true that the sins of the father are often visited upon the son,” she spat. “You being the sin, of course.”
Sedra ignored the barb and continued her introduction to Dana. “Tim is Polly Pepper’s son, and pretty famous in his own right. He’s a marvelous and wildly creative party planner. I should have known that you two would hit it off. You’re obviously from similar stock. Er, I mean you’re about the same age.”
Dana made a nonverbal sound that indicated her overall approval of Tim. “Polly Pepper,” she repeated, trying to recall where she’d heard the name. “Your mother, eh? A famous actress, right?”
Tim maintained eye contact with Dana as she began digging a hole for herself.
“I think I remember,” Dana said vaguely, a fog lifting. “Someone said that Polly Pepper wanted Trixie Wilder’s role in my film,” Dana said. “Tell your mother that I’m really sorry if she got her wires crossed, but at this stage in my career I need to be surrounded by important names. Kate Hudson. Kate Beckinsale. Kate Winslet.”
“Kate Moss. Cate Blanchett. Kate Mulgrew, Kate Jackson, Mary-Kate Olsen,” Tim added to the ridiculously long list of Hollywood actresses named Kate.
For a fraction of a moment, Dana look perturbed, as if she were being mocked. Then she softened. “I’m sure your mom understands. Rejection’s part of the game.”
Tim nodded. “A game,” he said. With his smile firmly plastered to his face, he turned to Polly and said, “You understand, don’t you…Mother?”
Dana had the sense to allow a look of humiliation to play across her face. She looked at Polly. “I didn’t recognize you,” she said. But rather than apologize directly to Polly she snapped at Sedra. “Thanks for letting me go on like an idiot,” she said, her voice rising. “You must get turned on by watching me imitate you as a bitch?”
Placenta cackled softly from the sidelines as the three women began to spar. Even Missie’s mother had been drawn to what every Hollywood gossip monger yearned for—a cat fight between two rival stars and an heir apparent to their diva crown. This time, however, Missie entered the fray and the claws of the trio of tigresses temporarily retracted. “No blood on the furniture, please girls,” she smiled with her patented good nature. Then, pleading with Dana she said, “Let’s treat Miss Pepper with all the respect due a woman of her tremendous accomplishments.”
Polly smiled up at her hostess and with a hint of condescension in her voice said, “Not to worry, dear. At this stage in my charmed life and brilliant career, I hardly have any ego about these minor nuisances.”
“Now I’m a nuisance!” Dana said, her eyes shooting daggers at Sedra. “You’re supposed to be helping me. Isn’t that our deal?”
With as much graciousness as she could muster, Polly leaned forward in her chair, smiled and placed a hand on Dana’s arm. “I may have thought about the role for a teensy fraction of an instant,” she said. “But I’m really too busy being inducted into the Television Hall of Fame to take on any new commitments just now. But I promise to attend a screening of Detention’s Fools, and lead the applause when it’s released.”
“Detention Rules!” Dana corrected.
“Dana doesn’t have a
drink,” Sedra observed. “And Tim, you’re empty. Since Missie’s not making the rounds, why don’t you two scoodle off and find another bottle. And bring one back for me. And one for your mother, too. Polly and I have much to prattle about.”
Missie looked embarrassed. “Things have gotten a little out of hand,” she apologized. “It seems everybody I invited decided to invite somebody else.”
Dana took another look at Tim and regained her smile. “My date’s supposed to be here any minute,” she said. “Where the hell is that Jack Wesley? Until he arrives we’re gonna scout for the party favors and whatever Missie and her mother have thrown together. Even I know to hire caterers,” she hissed to Missie.
“I was only expecting a few…”
“Save your acting for the camera,” Dana huffed. Then, turning to Sedra, she ordered, “Keep an eye out for Jack. So help me, if he bails on this so-called party…” Then she took a parting look at Polly. “I saw you on ‘Inside the Actors Studio’ once,” she said, as if it were a compliment. Then, morphing back into vixen, she grazed Tim’s cheek with her hand. “Come keep me company,” she said.
As Tim rose to follow Dana he admonished his mother and Sedra. “I’m leaving Placenta here as both referee and bouncer. Trust me, if you two get into a brawl she can easily take you down. Simultaneously.”
As Dana plowed through the room she reached behind her to take hold of Tim’s hand. Two dozen more guests had arrived and the house was becoming choked in noise. The duo wended their way through cliques of unknown actors who, desperate for the slightest bit of reflected glory from a working film star, called out to Dana and tried to get her attention. She ignored them all and heard more than one person snigger that she was merely a flash in the pan and a first-class bitch. “Thinks she’s Jennifer Aniston, for crying out loud,” said one guest to another.
