by Maggie Marr
Celeste’s phone rang as she pulled shut the front door for the last time. She walked to her Town Car, fished her phone from her purse, and glanced at the number.
“Jess, how are you feeling?” Celeste was thrilled that her former agent and now manager had finally decided to leave CTA. This change was, Celeste believed, the very best thing for Jessica’s career.
“You will never believe who just called,” Jessica said.
Celeste sat in the car’s leather seat. She glanced at the Enquirer and smiled.
“Let me guess. Damien?” Celeste asked.
“How did you know? Did he call you first?”
“No. Have you seen the Enquirer today?”
“No,” Jess said. “But it’s all over Variety that Brie dropped out of the movie due to a family problem.”
“If you call your female lover a family problem,” Celeste said. “You know what he wants,” Jessica exhaled. “They’ll meet your quote. It’s twenty million dollars plus back-end gross.”
“I just don’t know,” Celeste said, unsure that she wanted to spend the next three months on a movie set with her ex-husband.
“I told him it was a long shot. In fact, I was surprised that he even got Summit to make the offer. They’ve put Dennis in the other role and Bradford Madison has signed on for the third lead. It’s a great script, Cici. I can’t advise you to take it; you’d be stuck with Damien every day. But it’s splashy and well written, and I know every A-list actress in town wants the part, now that Summit has stepped up with some real money for the role. They came to you first.”
Celeste thought about it. She’d always loved the script and had desperately wanted to play the part. She knew she didn’t have to ask Ted, but she wanted to speak with him before making her decision.
“I want to talk to Ted,” Celeste said, twirling a lock of her blond hair in her fingers. “It shoots in New Zealand, right?”
“Actually Prague.”
“Ugh, they have the worst food,” Celeste said, “and they never wash their hands.”
“Well, think about it. It’s always good to have your next film booked before your last one premieres. We’ve got the offer to do the film from Summit for the next twenty-four hours. Speak to Ted and then let me know.”
“‘Kay. Will I be seeing you and Mike tonight?”
“Of course. But I can’t promise how late I’ll be there. My ankles are huge. I swear I look like an elephant. You should see the shoes I have to wear. Flats! Can you believe it? No heels for the next four months. I guess my arches will love it.”
“Not with all the extra weight.” Celeste smiled.
She’d never seen Jessica look so beautiful nor be so happy. “When do you fly to New York?” Jessica asked, a hint of sadness in her voice.
“Tomorrow evening. I have to tell you, I’m a little nervous, but Ted tells me I’ll love it. Plus, he promises his jet can bring me back to L.A. whenever I want.”
“It’s perfect, Cici. Okay, I have to take this other call. So I’ll see you tonight. And let me know. You have twenty-four hours to decide on this. Then Summit is moving on to Sandy. Production starts in three weeks. Talk to Ted.”
Celeste watched as the Hollywood Hills rushed by her. She knew Ted wouldn’t care if she went to Prague to do Damien’s film. It really would, she knew, save Damien’s career. Otherwise, he was dead, with this film falling apart and his last one tanking. And his finances weren’t too bright, either, with all the alimony he shelled out to Amanda and now her. Ugh. Why was she even thinking of being nice to that asshole? Because I am an actress. Good roles and great films are what I live for. Well, that was the answer, then, she guessed. She’d have to do it. And Ted would just have to learn to love Prague.
Chapter 36
Lydia Albright
Lydia walked into her bungalow on the Worldwide lot. She looked over at the tower of power, pleased that the executive suite was now vacant. She glanced at Variety. The headlines screamed her success: MIDNIGHT MINTS MONEY. Opening weekend, Seven Minutes Past Midnight bashed box-office records, pulling in a whopping $240 million over three days. Without qualification, that was a huge success. Lydia knew that on this Monday morning she was at the pinnacle of her success as a producer. The final numbers would be astounding. The film would run all summer in theaters and they still had the international releases. Never mind the DVD sales, which would be phenomenal.
Ted Robinoff had called Lydia Saturday night and asked her to produce the sequel. Of course she’d agreed. And Sunday, Worldwide Business Affairs had called Jessica to close deals for Lydia as producer, Mary Anne as writer, Cici to star, and once again Zymar to direct. It rarely happened that everyone came back for the sequel of a film, but they had, each of them, agreed to work together again. Lydia had spoken with Mary Anne yesterday. Already they had the kernel of an idea that would be a wallop of a sequel. Ted was pushing hard for a release next summer. With all the action sequences and effects, that meant they needed to get into production fast. Lydia wanted a start date in September (Cici would have returned from shooting Damien’s film in Prague), which gave Mary Anne enough time to complete at least two passes on the script.
Zymar was scheduled to meet with Mary Anne today. He’d been lazing by Lydia’s pool when she left for the office that morning.
“Love how you directors live between films,” Lydia teasingly called to him from their bedroom window.
“Got to enjoy success when it comes to you, Lyd. Never know what the next one’s gonna bring.” He smiled up to her as he sipped his coffee by the pool. “You producers work too much. Christina’s already left for the office. ‘Ow bout taking the day with me and driving up the coast in that fancy new car of yours?” He was referring to Lydia’s new convertible Bentley.
A present from Ted Robinoff for all her hard work, as well as, Lydia believed and Cici confirmed, an apology for Arnold’s behavior.
“This weekend,” Lydia called back.
There wasn’t anything that would keep her away from the office today. Today Lydia Albright, mega-producer, had all the juice in town. Any project she wanted, just tell the studio the title. Box-office records didn’t often get blown to smithereens, but when they did, to the victor went the spoils. She knew that between this huge success, Ted feeling guilty, and Arnold no longer running Worldwide, she had a moment. A small window of time to get moving every project she was attached to produce. Lydia had an agenda, and she had the next five days to carry it out.
Lydia hit the door knowing that everyone would be calling or e-mailing her with congratulations. And indeed, she’d barely been able to enter her bungalow because of the half dozen huge bouquets lined up in the waiting room. But she needed to stay focused. Speak to each studio head who called, press them to move on all the films she had at each of their studios. Get them to make the big money offers to the stars she wanted.
“You’ve got a hundred and seventeen calls,” Toddy said, “and that’s just from last night.”
All six lines were ringing. And Lydia’s new second assistant was struggling to keep up.
“Help her,” Lydia said to Toddy, walking into her office. “I’ve got Ted Robinoff on line one,” Toddy called out.
Lydia put on her headset. “Ted!” Lydia beamed. “So you’re pleased with the numbers?” she asked coyly.
“Pleased isn’t the word, Lydia. I’d say thrilled.”
“Good. I can’t wait for the next one. Mary Anne and I worked on it yesterday and I think it’s going to be really good.”
“I know it will be, Lydia; you have an instinct about these things.” Ted paused. “Lydia, I have a rather unorthodox question for you. Something that I was toying with last night.”
Lydia knew that meant he’d been picking Cici’s brain about it. “Would you ever consider—now stay with me on this, as it’s a little unorthodox—would you ever consider running Worldwide?” Lydia didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t a job she had ever considered. President of pr
oduction? At a studio?
“Ted, this … I mean, this really …I’m caught a little off …guard.”
“I know, I know. It’s unconventional and not something we’d discussed. But Lydia, you have amazing taste and instincts about what makes a great film. And not just with one genre like action or thriller or romantic comedy, but with it all. Everyone in town loves you, and your relationships are very impressive.”
Lydia glanced down at Variety. It was all true. Except for one Arnold Murphy, who was now banished to the Siberia of entertainment, she was respected and well liked. She’d worked long and hard to establish her reputation and her career. It seemed as though there were no mountains left to climb, except maybe this one.
“Well, I have to ask the obvious question: What happens to my films?”
“Well, at Worldwide, we’d want you to stay on as producer for all your films. Give you sort of a hybrid deal. You could produce some films and be president of production, too.”
Lydia realized that these deals had been done before, in rare circumstances where the producers were exceptionally adept. In some cases it was huge success, in others an abject failure.
“Do you mind if I think on it?”
“Of course. I didn’t expect an answer today. But listen, I’d really like to sit down and speak with you about it. Over lunch? What about tomorrow at the Grill?”
“Aren’t you in Prague?”
“Yes, but we’re coming in tonight. Cici isn’t on the shooting schedule and has the next three days off, and she wants to shop a little. Something about some new Louboutins? I don’t know what those are, but she wants them.”
Lydia stifled a laugh. What a star. Cici was stealing Ted’s jet for a new pair of shoes.
“Tomorrow is great. See you there at one.”
“Fantastic, Lydia. And please don’t make a decision at least until we talk.”
“Sure thing. Thanks, Ted.”
Lydia hung up the phone. She spun her chair around and gazed at the tower of power. Maybe the executive suite wouldn’t be empty for long.
Chapter 37
Jessica Caulfield
Jessica Caulfield’s move into the suite of six small offices in Beverly Hills was finally complete. She’d been surprised by how many agents from CTA had begged to come with her. She’d taken two and told the rest that there just wasn’t room. The same went for her clients. Jessica found herself in the enviable position of selecting those few clients from her A-list roster she wanted to take with her. As an agent, she’d juggled the careers of twenty to forty writers, directors, and actors at any given time. As a manager, she’d chosen a mere ten to be her clients. It was a more personal relationship, that of manager. She was to be their career guide, creative muse, spiritual guru, and motherly influence. Anything they needed to be able to perform at this hyper-competitive, high-stakes level. Her maternal instinct, having already begun to kick in based on her hormones, made her well suited to be the mother hen to an elite flock of ten.
Jessica waddled back to her office from the bathroom, a trip that was becoming increasingly familiar as the baby grew and rested ever more firmly upon her bladder.
“Holden Humphrey on line one,” Lauren called out.
Jessica paused, catching her breath before lumbering across the hall to her office.
“Tell him it’s going to be just a minute.”
The baby had begun to slow her down, something that would have been completely unforgivable at CTA but that was just part of her existence at her own company. She was the boss; she made the rules.
Jessica settled weightily into her chair and reached for her headset. Holden? Hmm. She hadn’t spoken to him since the night she’d bumped into him at Will’s party. Booty Time 2 had come and gone. As Jessica predicted, it was a complete disaster at the box office. She heard little more about Holden after that. The industry seemed to have moved on to the next big male star.
“Holden,” Jessica said. “How are you?”
“Hi, Jess. It sure is good to hear your voice.”
To her, he sounded forlorn.
“So tell me, what are you working on right now?” Jessica asked, curious to hear what, if anything, Josh Dragatsis had in the works.
“Well, you know … It’s kind of quiet right now,” Holden said with a hint of loneliness in his voice.
Jessica knew his career was cold. Casting was gearing up on a number of films, all of which had roles that were ideal for someone like Holden. If Dragatsis wasn’t even getting Holden out for those roles, then it truly was frigid in the marketplace for him.
“So I hear you’ve got your own place now?” Holden asked.
“Yes I do,” Jessica said, waiting for him to ask. She remembered that Holden had always been dismissive of her belief that he should take a manager. For the ten percent, she’d always thought another set of eyes and ears looking for opportunities for an actor could be well worth it. And of course, her belief was only stronger now
“And a baby on the way, too.”
“We’re very excited,” Jessica said.
If she was still an agent, she’d be trying to hide her pregnancy, keeping it from her competitors, who would see her upcoming maternity leave as the perfect opportunity to steal her clients. But as a manager, she didn’t feel that way. There was an unspoken agreement among managers: no poaching. She was a more integral part of her clients’ lives, and they hers. It was the type of relationship she’d tried to nurture with her clients as an agent but that was more suited to manager.
“So, Jess, I was wondering, do you remember a long time ago, when you told me to never be embarrassed to make the call?”
Jessica did remember a morning, what seemed like very long ago, when she’d cooked Holden a steaming plate of eggs.
“I do, in fact, remember,” Jessica said, smiling not so much about Holden, but about her former self, her agent self, hyper-aggressive and competitive.
“So I’m making it. The call.”
Jessica couldn’t help but smile even wider. It was so sweet when they returned. Unlike a number of representatives, she never abused or humiliated her clients when they wanted to come back. And in this instance, with her change in position, and Holden’s decline in the marketplace, it would be completely understandable should Jessica choose not to represent him again. She could easily beg off; her roster as a manager was in fact full. But she had a special spot in her heart for Holden, and she truly believed that with the right direction, he could be a huge star.
“Holden, I’m thrilled that you did. So why don’t you come by the house tonight and we’ll have some dinner and talk about what you want to do. Around eight?” Jessica asked, not missing a beat, nothing belying her sense of satisfaction at once again being right.
“Thanks, Jess,” Holden said.
He was grateful and relieved. She could hear it in his voice. Jessica pushed the Release button on her phone.
“Lauren, can I get something to eat?” she called out to her assistant. “Let’s order lunch early. Maybe a cheeseburger?”
“If I eat any more cheeseburgers, Jess, I am going to be as big as you, and that’s without the pregnancy. How about a nice salad?” Lauren offered.
“Mike’s paying you, isn’t he? Are you keeping a diary for him of what I eat?”
“I’m calling La Scala. You love their turkey chop salad.”
Jessica grimaced. A salad would have to do. Just as she thought about lunch, she felt it. A thud against the inside of her tummy. “Wow!” Jessica yelled.
“What?!” Lauren screamed and rushed back into Jessica’s office, her earpiece dangling.
“He just kicked me!” Jessica said, her face full of delight. “He must be hungry, too.”
“See,” said Lauren, “he’s excited about the salad.”
Jessica sat rubbing her tummy in the spot that her son had thumped her. Never before had she been so thrilled about being kicked by a man.
Chapter 38
Mary
Anne Meyers
Mary Anne pattered across Adam’s kitchen floor. It was early; her laptop sat open on the kitchen table. She’d been up writing since four A.M. She was so close to being finished. She had to figure out some tangles in the third act, and then it would be complete. Zymar would be thrilled. They’d finally hammered out the twist in the second act, where Cici’s character appears to be a bad guy; of course, the audience finds out later it was all a ploy. It’d taken forever, but now this draft was almost ready. Just in time, as preproduction was a heartbeat away.
Mary Anne looked up to see Adam, freshly showered and dressed, walking into the kitchen. She sat at her computer with coffee breath and bed head, but it didn’t seem to matter to him. He walked over and gave her a gentle kiss on the mouth.
“Good morning,” he said, heading for the coffeepot. “How about some eggs?”
“Sure,” Mary Anne said, making a move to get up from her chair.
Adam laughed. “I’ll make them.” He reached over and tousled her already messy hair.
She was still getting used to his laid-back ways. He kept surprising her with each kindness he bestowed. Last night, they’d spent the evening reading together, a silent joy for her. Adam’s apartment was above his bookstore, a cozy two-bedroom with a deck and a view. He’d remodeled the space after he moved to Los Angeles. Originally his aunt used it as storage and an office, but there was enough storage downstairs. It was much smaller than Mary Anne’s house in the Hills, but much cozier, too. Plus, it was like having your own personal library of all the newest books right downstairs. For two writers, it was heaven.
“I’m going to grab the paper before the eggs,” Adam said, heading to the back staircase that led to the bookstore below.
