by Maggie Marr
“Tell me what?” Jessica asked, pushing Holden to say it. Admit to it. Then she could have a real conversation with her star.
“He’s been hounding me day and night. Really mostly nights. Parties and girls and strip clubs …” Holden’s voice trailed off.
“And blow?”
Holden gave Jessica a sheepish grin. He was a good boy, but this was Los Angeles.
“Not so much.” He looked at Jess. “Well, maybe a little. But Jess, it was just guys being friendly. Well, it started out like that.”
“Holden, when you make twenty million dollars per film and ten percent of gross, there are no guys just being friendly. You are a commodity. We talked about this. And people who can get close to you will want things.”
“I know, Jess, I know. It’s just, I mean, Josh and I have so much in common. We’re both single. We both love sports. We both come from small towns.”
“What small town is Josh Dragatsis from?” Jessica asked.
“I don’t know. Someplace in Indiana, I think. Fayetteville. Not far from where my mom grew up.”
“Uh-huh.” Jessica made a mental note to check on this point. She didn’t think there were many Greeks with New York accents from Fayetteville, Indiana, and a lie like that could completely sour Holden on Josh, making him realize that Josh wanted to advance his own career by pretending to guide Holden’s.
“Jess, you’ve been so good to me.” Holden looked down at the floor. “But lately I just don’t feel like we connect.” He seemed honestly hurt and a little scared.
“Holden, I know agents like Josh. He will ruin your career. He’s not in it for the long haul. He’s going to book you into crappy films so that he can make some big dollars, and you will lose any acting credibility that you’ve established. For God’s sake, you’re up for Inside the Fire—Tony Scott is directing that. Every actor in town wants that role. Tom, Brad, Will. You have a real shot at this, but if you go do some crappy film or if Josh doesn’t have the same type of relationship with Tony and the studio like I do, then this opportunity will disappear.”
“Jess, Josh already got me in to meet with Tony.”
Jessica’s stomach lurched. She was speechless. That meeting, the meeting she’d scheduled for Holden with Tony Scott, was for Thursday. How had Josh Dragatsis gotten Holden Humphrey in to see Tony Scott before now? And how had Tony’s office not called Jessica’s office to confirm? She was going to vomit.
“I can’t—”
“Jess, you’re the very best agent in town. It’s just that right now, where I am, I just think I need a guy agent. I think he understands me better.”
“So that’s it?” Jessica asked.
“Yeah. I’m sorry,” Holden said. He pushed the plate away from him. “The eggs were really good, Jess,” he said as though trying to soften the $20 million blow.
“Thanks.” Jessica gave him a half smile as she stood. She’d found Holden in obscurity. Gotten him his first head shots and acting gig. Even loaned him money in the lean years so that he could stay in Hollywood and not have to return to Podunk wherever. And now, after five years and some success, Holden was canning her for a young guy with a good connection for blow. It was ludicrous. Insanity, really. Jessica walked over to Holden. He looked a little afraid, as if she might dump the carafe of hot coffee in his lap.
“Stand up,” Jessica said.
Holden stood. He wasn’t really much taller than her, at least not when she was wearing four-inch Givenchy heels. “Give me a hug.” Holden obeyed and wrapped his arms around her. “Now listen, when this little pecker fucks it up, you come back to me. You hear me? Don’t ever feel embarrassed or ashamed to make that call. You got it?”
Holden nodded his head in the affirmative. He looked as though he might cry.
“Don’t let them fuck up your career, Holden. You are in charge. Got that, too?”
Again he nodded. Jessica pulled back from Holden’s embrace and turned her back to walk away. She’d been officially shit-canned. Her noble words in parting were complete. Just a little sucker punch at the end to plant the seed that Holden Humphrey had, in fact, made the biggest mistake of his career.
*
Jessica stepped off the private elevator next to her office. She still felt queasy; the eggs, the coffee, the being fired. She’d just lost a huge client for the agency, and if Kim didn’t come through with Maurice, the bloodbath for the day had only just begun. Jessica walked toward her office, eyeing her number two and number three assistants. She glanced at Kim’s desk. Her chair was empty. Jessica stopped.
“Where’s Kim?” Her question was met by deafening silence. “Lauren?” Jessica looked at her number two assistant, who was juggling three phone lines and typing an e-mail.
Lauren hit the Mute button on her phone and glanced up at Jessica. “Gone,” she said.
Gone? On a morning like this, her number one assistant decided to leave her desk? Maybe this battlefield promotion needed to be reconsidered. Jessica started toward her own desk. Or perhaps Kim was, at this very moment, convincing Maurice that he had to stay with CTA.
“When will she be back?” Jessica called out to Lauren.
“Jessica,” Lauren answered, sounding irritated, “she’s gone.”
“What?”
“Not out-of-the-office gone. Gone gone.”
“What?!” Jessica screamed. The reality of the situation hit her. The Tony Scott meeting. The fucking the stars. The parties. The 6:45 A.M. phone call. Kim’s absence from her desk.
“Dragatsis,” Lauren said. “He got Holden, Maurice, and Kim. Offered her senior agent status, a huge salary, and to be on Holden’s and Maurice’s agent teams.”
“That traitorous bitch!” Jessica inhaled deeply and grabbed her headset. “Who else?”
“No one yet. But we’re bleeding here. She took all the numbers. Not just your clients, but also every number of every client with any value in the building, including writers and directors. She’s got copies of files, submission logs, deal memos, and e-mails.”
Within the heat of rage, Jessica felt the emergence of fear and panic. CTA had just taken a torpedo hit to the hull.
“Jeremy’s on his way to your office.”
This was war. Jessica started barking orders. “Okay, send an agent-only e-mail announcing an emergency meeting in twenty minutes. In the e-mail, tell all agents to start calling and checking in with all their clients. Tell them to begin with their biggest clients first. Now get me my client lists. Now! We are calling everyone this morning.”
“Got it.”
“Call Human Resources and get a trainee up here.”
“They’re on the way.”
“Lauren, get me Angie first.”
“Dialing.”
“And Lauren,” Jessica called.
“Yeah?” Lauren glanced up from her phone keypad. “Congratulations on your promotion. You’re number one now.”
Lauren smiled. “Thanks. I had the computer department turn off her BlackBerry and purge her security codes the minute she got on the elevator. Hope it helps.”
“Probably not, but good call.”
*
“Okay, love. Just wanted to check that you were well.” Jessica cooed into the ear of one of her biggest stars. “Please give Maddy hugs and kisses from Aunt Jess.” Jessica looked up to see Jeremy entering her office. She smiled at her boss and mouthed the word “Angie.” Jeremy nodded, understanding the importance of the call, and sat down. “Okay. Great, see you when you’re back from Africa, then. Mmm-hmm. Bye-bye.” Jessica unwrapped her headset from her ear. She looked at Jeremy. Always the dapper Englishman, he looked cool and well dressed even with the mounting stress.
“Quite a day,” Jeremy said.
“Quite. And it’s not even ten A.M.”
Jeremy leaned forward in his seat and moved the knot of his tie. “Listen, Jess, I know we’re under attack, and I don’t doubt you for one second, but we’ve been thinking—”
Jessica a
rched her right eyebrow.
“Tolliver and I.”
“Tolliver?”
“And I believe that in this situation with a day like today, we need a show of strength,” Jeremy said.
“I completely agree. I’ve got the client lists and we’ve just closed three huge deals. I think we need to leak the deals to Variety and the Reporter. They need to be on the front page tomorrow.”
“Right. Yes. Jess, that is absolutely brilliant. But Jess, I think also that now is the perfect time to announce Tolliver.”
“I see.” She was sitting wounded in the water and Jeremy wanted to fire the shot that would kill her in front of the entire town.
“Jess, I am a big believer that two heads are better than one. You and Tolliver have such complementary skill sets. The two of you really will be unbeatable.”
“Yes, but Jeremy, today is not the day. It will look to the community as if you are replacing me. That you are concerned with my ability to run the company during a crisis.”
“Rubbish. Everyone knows that Tolliver’s been here for quite some time.”
“Jeremy, most people in this town can’t remember the last twenty-four hours. All they’re going to see is that I took two very bad hits to my client list and that you decided to bring some man in to help me.”
Jeremy visibly bristled. “You said 'my.' “
“Excuse me?” Jessica didn’t understand Jeremy’s meaning and really didn’t have time to play games.
“You said ‘my’ client list when referring to Holden and Maurice. Don’t you mean ‘our’ or CTA’s’?”
“Well, of course I do, I only meant that—”
“Jess, I’m sorry, but I’ve already decided. Today is the day.”
“No. Absolutely not. This was not part of the deal with Tolliver coming over here. Jeremy, you specifically told me that I would never, ever look undermined by him. You gave me your word.”
Jeremy stood when Jessica completed her tirade. It was a gentlemanly act for Jeremy to even walk over to Jessica’s office; since he owned the company, it was Jessica’s place to come to him. Jessica had now not only infringed upon Jeremy’s courtesy and civility but had also yelled at her very uptight and stuffy British boss.
“I did, Jessica, tell you when Tolliver arrived that he would never be used to undermine your authority. Nor would the perception ever be present in the Hollywood community that Tolliver had more power within the company than you. You are correct. However, Jessica, with respect to you and your abilities, I have made my decision and the story will run tomorrow. As for appearing ‘undermined,’ Jess, I think that your two clients who have chosen to leave and fire you, as well as your former assistant, took care of that.”
Jessica crossed her arms in front her chest. In less than four hours she’d lost two clients and an assistant, alienated her boss, and gained one backstabbing, career-climbing Tolliver Jones. She gave Jeremy her very best Hollywood smile (maybe she should act; she’d become very adept at faking emotion).
“Jeremy, I apologize. It’s been a very emotional morning for me.” She played upon her womanhood and gave in to the one thing that Brits truly believed was an American weakness, the display of unpleasant emotions.
“Of course, Jessica. I do understand. And I am so glad that you, too, understand.” Jeremy smiled, pleased to have the distasteful interlude behind them.
Jessica smiled, her eyes sad, her mouth tight, and her mind furious.
“Oh, I do understand, Jeremy. I really do.”
Chapter 26
Mary Anne: When the Shoe Drops
Mary Anne had spent two hours at the studio listening to executives (who had never written a script) give her notes on her next project. Then she fought her way through six P.M. Los Angeles traffic back from the Valley. She was exhausted. Drained by the entire experience. And now she juggled three bags of groceries, her purse, her mail, and her keys as she pushed the front door open while her home phone rang. She slammed the door closed with her foot (losing a shoe), dropped everything on the couch, and leapt for the phone.
“Hello,” she gasped.
“Mary Anne?”
“Dad?” Mary Anne was surprised to hear her father’s voice.
Marvin Meyers never called, except on birthdays and holidays. It was always Mitsy who phoned every Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday. A wave of guilt crested over Mary Anne. She hadn’t spoken with her mother since Mitsy left L.A.; she’d ignored her calls and letters. Mary Anne glanced at the clock; it was almost ten P.M. in Minnesota. Late for anyone, especially Marvin, to call.
“Mary Anne, yes. Uhm… How are you?”
Her stiff Midwestern father sounded even stiffer and more Midwestern than Mary Anne remembered. It’d been almost two years since Mary Anne visited Minnesota for her grandfather’s funeral, and about a year since Marvin came to Santa Barbara for an insurance conference. Mary Anne had dutifully driven the seventy miles to have dinner with her father at a very nondescript Santa Barbara restaurant, one that felt as Midwestern as you could find on the coast, with lots of brass, pastels, and booths. They’d eaten early. Mary Anne remembered being surprised that Marvin bypassed his usual uptight Methodist single scotch on the rocks and downed two vodka and tonics.
It was the first time that Mary Anne could ever remember eating a meal alone with her father. Marvin was often away on business, or at work. As a child, Mitsy ate many family meals with her children sans Marvin. But Marvin, well, he rarely spent any time alone with his offspring.
The evening ended with an awkward hug and an abrupt kiss. She recalled her guilt at the relief she felt, finally being finished with the uncomfortable encounter.
“Dad, is everything okay?”
“I know it’s late, but well, I was wondering, have you heard from your mother?”
Guilt again. Was he calling to try to patch things up between her and Mitsy? “Dad, I know I haven’t called her back, but you really didn’t need to call. I’ll call her. I promise. I was just a little angry, that’s all.”
“Uhh … No. Mary Anne, really, I don’t know about that. But today, or yesterday? Have you heard from your mother?”
He wasn’t calling about their argument?
“Heard from Mom? Dad, you live with Mom.”
“Well, yes. I mean no.”
“Isn’t she at the house?”
Marvin paused.
“Aren’t you at the house? Did you look for her?” Mary Anne wondered if Marvin was suffering from early-onset Alzheimer’s. He insisted on drinking soda from a can, and she remembered reading that soda in a can had some connection with Alzheimer’s.
“Well, she’s not here.”
“Dad, Mom has a ton of meetings. Maybe the Methodist Mothers or her book group got together tonight. Did you check the schedule in the kitchen?”
“No, I mean … she’s not in Minnesota.”
“What?”
Marvin sighed. “This wasn’t how I wanted to tell you. We were going to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” Mary Anne panicked. Mitsy not in Minnesota? Her father had no idea where Mitsy was? Her mother was missing and her father was, quite possibly losing his mind. “Have you called the police?”
“No.”
“But Dad—”
“Mary Anne, she left a note. I mean a letter. Well, actually, a list. Of all the things I need to do while she’s gone.”
“But where? Dad, this isn’t like Mom. She’d never go anywhere without telling someone.”
“Oh, Mary Anne,” her father moaned.
Was he crying? Mary Anne heard Marvin gasp.
“Your mother and I, well, we’ve—” His voice cracked.
“What is it, Dad?”
“We’ve decided to separate.”
Mary Anne felt a pit open in her stomach. A deep chasm that was splitting her, making its way toward her heart. She sank into a chair next to the phone. “Separate? You mean as in separate, like, divorced separate?”
“No
. I don’t know. We’ve just decided that I should live somewhere else for a while. I’ve been staying at the St. Paul Inn.”
“When? Why? How come no one told me? Do Michael and Michelle know?”
“We had a family meeting last night. Your mother and I decided we’d call you together this evening. I came over after work, and well, she’s gone. So are some of her clothes and her navy Tourister overnight bag, so I know she packed. And she left the list.”
“It doesn’t say where? The list.”
“No. Or when she’ll be back.”
Mary Anne felt tears well up in her eyes. Her mom and dad were divorcing, and Mitsy was somewhere out there in the world alone.
“We’ve tried all the relatives, your aunt, your grandmother. No one’s heard from her.”
“Okay; I’m sure she just needed a little space.”
“I thought maybe you’d hear from her. You’ve always been her favorite.”
“Yeah, right,” Mary Anne scoffed through the tears running down her face. “That spot is saved for the twins.”
“You are. Her daughter the writer; the brave one that moved away from Minnesota. Lived out all the dreams your mother had.”
Mary Anne wiped her cheek with the back of her hand.
“What are you talking about, Dad?”
“Rambling, I guess. It was a long time ago. Forever ago. You know she used to write.”
“What?”
“When I met her. Poetry, short stories. She was talented, won a couple of contests at the university. Was even published. She had a gift. But then I came along, then you and Michelle and Michael. There just wasn’t time.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Remember the Sunshine Stories?”
“The hand-drawn children’s series. I loved those books.”
“They were hers.”
“No!”
“Illustrations and story. She wrote them and then had them printed and bound. She wanted those books to be the first thing you read when you learned to read.”
