Outside In

by Courtney Thorne-Smith

  “Yup, I made it.” Michael took a step backward to distance himself from Jerry’s breath, which was a nauseating combination of stale coffee and fear. “Who else is coming to our little summit?”

  “Little summit—HA! HA! HA!” Even his laugh is needy, thought Michael, trying his best to hold his ground against the double whammy of Jerry’s excessive volume and the expulsion of rancid air. “That’s a good one.”

  “Yes, I’ve been working on it all morning.”

  “Right, well, time well spent,” said Jerry, completely missing Michael’s sarcasm. In fact, he probably added “spend more time preparing witty comments” to his mental calendar. “Anyhoo, I don’t think this will be too bad, do you? I mean, it’s just a catch-up-and-chat, right? I probably have nothing to worry about, but, you know, worrying is my job. I’m so gosh-darn used to worrying that I even worry when there’s nothing to worry about, like today, right? I mean, she’s not mad at me, is she? Is there something that you think I should know before we head into her trailer?”

  “No, Jerry, she loves you.” In the condescending, impersonal way that all queens love their obsequious subjects. “I think we can believe what we have been told—that we are all here to brainstorm ways to make Sapphire’s life easier. And, really, who doesn’t want to spend their limited time on this earth doing that?”

  “Oh, I do. Of course I do,” said Jerry, still completely oblivious to Michael’s sarcasm and now visibly relieved that he probably wasn’t about to lose his job. “I think that’s uppermost in all of our hearts and minds. Although it is a little weird that Hamilton Morgan called the meeting, isn’t it? I mean, he’s not even Sapphire’s manager, he’s Ka—” He stopped himself midsentence as if only then remembering he was speaking to the person whose job might really be on the line and placed a clammy hand on Michael’s shoulder. “I’m sure you’re right. I’m sure we’re all just here to help our special girl.”

  “Yes, our special girl,” said Michael, mirroring Jerry’s intensely concerned expression and tone, purely for his own amusement. “Why don’t we go and see if the short bus has arrived with our special girl, shall we?”

  By the time the two men had walked the one hundred yards to the door of Sapphire’s trailer, Michael had had to extricate himself from the “comforting” arm Jerry kept throwing over his shoulder no fewer than three times. Although not remotely comforting, Jerry’s needy groping did distract Michael from his resentment about having been called to this meeting in the first place. So at least it was a fresh, new annoyance.

  “I got it,” Michael snapped at Jerry, whose ill-timed attempt to reach around him to open the trailer door had almost knocked him off the rickety steps.

  “Oh, right, right, of course. My bad,” said Jerry, quickly pulling back his hand and dropping his head to his chest, as if Michael’s impatient tone had been a rolled-up newspaper aimed at his nose.

  When they finally succeeded in opening the door, they were met with quite a cozy little tableau: Sapphire and Hamilton sitting together on the couch, his arm over her shoulder, her head resting on his chest, a Kleenex clutched in her hand to stem the tide of tears that ran down her face. They didn’t bother to pull apart at the interruption, but instead looked up calmly as if their being intertwined were the most natural thing in the world.

  “Hello, Sapphire,” said Michael, stepping up into the tiny living room and trying to clear enough space for Jerry to enter, as much out of a desire to have another witness to the scene as out of politeness.

  “Hel—oh!” Not surprisingly, Jerry was completely unable to hide his shock. Michael did a quick check of the carpet underneath Jerry’s feet to make sure his excitement hadn’t caused him to piddle.

  Slowly removing himself from his embrace with Sapphire, clucking words of comfort and flattery along the way, Hamilton stood and held out his hand toward Michael. “Hello. You must be Michael. I’m Hamilton Morgan. I hope you don’t feel like I am stepping on your toes by calling this meeting.”

  “No, I don’t feel like you are stepping on my toes,” said Michael. My livelihood, perhaps.

  “Good, good,” said Hamilton, settling back down on the couch next to Sapphire and gesturing toward two empty chairs. “Please, gentlemen, have a seat. Let’s get down to the business of helping our star shine, shall we?”

  Jerry didn’t even make it the foot and a half to his seat before blurting out, “Well, I, for one, think it would be difficult to make her shine any brighter than she already does!”

  “Thank you, Jerry,” cooed Sapphire, dabbing at her dry eyes to remind everyone that sometime in the very recent past she had been injured to the point of tears.

  “I’m merely stating a fact,” said Jerry earnestly.

  “Yes, well, be that as it may,” said Michael in an attempt to interrupt the spontaneous honorarium, “I think it is important that we clarify exactly what we hope to accomplish here today.” As he spoke, he watched with fascination as Hamilton’s arm made its way to the back of the couch behind Sapphire, like a high school suitor staking his claim. “Also, I find myself a little bit curious about how you two kids came to plan this little meeting in the first place.”

  “Oh, Michael, I’m hardly a kid,” giggled Sapphire, throwing a coquettish look toward Hamilton, who smiled at her indulgently before taking over the job of fielding Michael’s questions.

  “I would agree with Sapphire on one point; she’s not a kid—although she certainly looks like she could be.” Sapphire actually batted her eyelashes. Michael felt his stomach turn. “What she is is an artist, and she needs to be treated as such.”

  “Right,” said Michael. “I understand that she is an artist—an artiste, if I may—but I still don’t understand why I, her agent, am here at a meeting called by you, not her agent.”

  “Yes, we understand how that might feel awkward for you,” said Hamilton, allowing his hand to drop off the back of the couch and rest gently on Sapphire’s shoulder. “Originally, I reached out to Sapphire on the behalf of my client, who was frankly too intimidated to come to her on her own, which I think is easy to understand. Sapphire is, after all, a legend—deservedly so, I think we can all agree.”

  “Oh, absolutely!” chimed Jerry.

  “Yes, I think we can all agree on Sapphire’s legend-osity,” said Michael, growing more annoyed by the minute. “Now, can we move on to the purpose of this meeting?”

  “I know why I’m here! I’m here to help our star shine!” exclaimed Jerry, adding redundant to his list of annoying personality traits.

  “Down, boy,” said Michael under his breath.

  “What?”

  “I said, ‘Let’s get down to business,’” said Michael. “We are all here to make Sapphire’s life easier. I spend the better part of my day on efforts geared toward making Sapphire’s life easier. This meeting, in fact, is taking valuable time away from that, my primary purpose, so let’s get to it and get on our way, shall we?”

  “Yes, absolutely,” said Hamilton, maturing from smitten schoolboy to businesslike agent before their eyes. “We need to change the focus of this set. This is not an ensemble drama, it is a star vehicle. The problems that arise do so because of the schism between what this show actually is—the Sapphire Rose show—and what it has been run as—the aforementioned ensemble drama.”

  “Absolutely! I couldn’t agree with you more completely,” chimed in Jerry, all but licking Hamilton’s hand.

  “Okay, I’ve got to admit, I’m a little confused,” said Michael.

  “Confused? What is there to be confused about?” asked Sapphire, clearly baffled that anyone would fail to see the simple, unarguable truth of Hamilton’s sentence.

  “Well, Hamilton, I am confused as to why you are in here basically working against your own client. Don’t get me wrong—I am all for other people doing my work for me, but I have to ask—what does your client think of what you are doing? Who is your client, by the way?”

  “Kate Keyes-Morgan.�
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  “Oh, right. Keyes-Morgan?”

  “Yes, she is my wife as well as my client, so that should give you extra assurance that I am trying to do only what is best for everyone.”

  Or that you are an even bigger asshole than I’d thought you were, thought Michael, but he said, “Yes, of course—how could anyone doubt your sincerity?” Unless they saw you and Sapphire sitting so close together on the couch that it looks as if you had a glue-gun accident.

  “I sure don’t doubt it!” piped in Jerry. “In fact, I am going to go out there right now and get to work on this right away, making sure that all of Sapphire’s scenes are up first so we can get her home lickety-split to get her beauty sleep—not that she needs any, of course.”

  “I think that’s a great start,” said Hamilton.

  “I agree,” added Sapphire.

  “Hold on!” snapped Michael, causing Sapphire and the two stooges of ass kissing to turn and glare at him at once. “Don’t you think this is a little bit, I don’t know…inconsiderate to the rest of the actors on the show?”

  Sapphire gasped. “Whose side are you on, Michael?”

  “I’m on your side, Sapphire, as always, which is why I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that if you, as the highest-paid person on this set, inconvenience everyone else who works here for the sole purpose of making your life a little bit easier, well, it might not seem altogether fair.”

  Sapphire stared at him blankly. “What does fair have to do with it? Is everyone else the star of the show?”

  “No, of course not, but everyone else is a part of the show, and you don’t want them feeling that you don’t respect their time, do you?”

  Sapphire continued to stare at him as if he were speaking a foreign language. Finally, Hamilton spoke up. “I see your point, Michael, and it is certainly admirable, but I think you underestimate the esteem that your client engenders.”

  “I’ll say!” Jerry piped up.

  “See what I mean, Michael? These are people who want to make Sapphire’s life easier, because they all know that without her, there is no show. Take my wife, for example. She was inconvenienced yesterday when the wardrobe department hit its little snafu, but she understands that it is not all about her schedule, that the privilege of working with and learning from one of the greats is a reward unto itself.”

  “That is so true,” said Jerry, nodding earnestly.

  “It really is,” agreed Sapphire.

  “Fine,” sighed Michael, realizing he was fighting a losing battle. “Let’s go ahead and try a scheduling change, but please be subtle about it, Jerry. And I think we need to be prepared for the possibility of some sort of fallout from the rest of the cast.”

  “They’ll be fine,” said Hamilton.

  “They’ll be happy to help,” guaranteed Jerry.

  “Who cares?” asked Sapphire.

  Two minutes later, Michael and Jerry stood outside of Sapphire’s trailer.

  “Wow, that went really well, don’t you think? I mean, really, this has always been Sapphire’s show anyway, so it’s sort of like we’re just making it official, right? I think this is just going to be great for everyone, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know,” said Michael. “I’m not sure that everyone else is going to be quite as excited about this as, say, you and Sapphire are. I mean, how must this feel for that guy’s poor wife? Do you think she really knows that he’s here doing this?” And probably doing Sapphire, Michael added silently.

  “Oh, I’m sure she does. Kate is a real team player. Have you ever met her? She’s a real doll.”

  “No, I really haven’t met most of the cast. Sapphire keeps me pretty busy.”

  “Yes, I can imagine. It is God’s work, though, isn’t it?”

  Michael waited for a smile, a laugh—anything to show that Jerry was kidding—but it never came. Michael would never stop being blown away by the hypnotic power of celebrity. “On that note, I am going to be on my way.”

  “Good idea. You start working on your end, and I’ll get right to work here on mine.” Jerry leaned in, treating Michael to another dose of his sickening fear breath. “I don’t mind telling you now that I was a little scared back there. I’m thinking we both dodged a bullet, you know?”

  “You? Scared? Wow, I’m floored. You seemed like the picture of self-contained confidence.” Leaving his sarcasm-resistant colleague outside of Sapphire’s trailer, Michael headed toward his car, thinking of the bullet that Jerry had dodged.

  It was now heading straight at him.

  9

  “So, what do you think?” Paige was facing Kate in the makeup chair, brushes primed and ready for action.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Do you think it’s worth it?”

  “Well, which is worse: getting your makeup done for no reason, or getting called to set and trying to do a thirty-minute makeup in two minutes?”

  “Skip it, then?” asked Kate, lifting herself out of her seat as if she were going to head out and get on with her day.

  “You wish.” Paige laughed, pushing Kate back down into the chair and turning to finish setting up her makeup, laying out base, blush, powder, and eye shadow in neat rows like a surgeon’s tools. “Now, just sit back and relax. This won’t hurt a bit.”

  “That’s what my high school boyfriend said—and he was lying, too.”

  “Yes,” said Paige, holding up the makeup brush that she had just dipped into Kate’s foundation. “The difference is that I really am just going to use the tip.”

  Kate laughed and said, “Oh, thank God for you. I don’t think I could do this job if you weren’t here saying inappropriate, semi-offensive things to me every day.”

  “Right back at ya,” said Paige. “It’s all about you and the free bacon for me.”

  “Not necessarily in that order?”

  “Kate, how could you even say that?” asked Paige in mock horror. “Of course not in that order. You know how I feel about my bacon.”

  “I do. In fact, I have seriously been considering an intervention. Is there a twelve-step program for bacon?”

  “I can stop whenever I feel like it…I just don’t feel like it. It is getting awkward, though, lying to waiters about the big bacon party I’m throwing later to try to cover up how much fried pork I am ordering for myself.”

  “Big bacon party? Good cover. I can’t imagine anyone seeing through that clever ruse.”

  “Exactly,” said Paige. “Now shut up and hold still so that I can waste both of our time getting you ready for a scene that they will never shoot. Did Sam give you any sort of an idea of timing?”

  “Not really. He just said that they needed me here ‘on deck’ while they wait to see what the outcome of Sapphire’s emergency meeting is.”

  “Sapphire called an emergency meeting? What is that about?”

  “I don’t know,” Kate said into her lap, not wanting to lie straight to Paige’s face.

  “I hope she’s not meeting with craft services about that new diet she’s on. The stage still smells like lamb from her last insane food plan, and I heard her new thing is raw food. Can you imagine what it will smell like around here if she insists on sashimi for breakfast?”

  “Maybe you’ll luck out and it will be a raw-bacon diet.”

  “Ugh! I think you may have just stumbled upon the one and only way I will pass up a piece of bacon. Suddenly I feel strangely noble, like a pillar of discipline.”

  “The question is, do you feel disciplined enough to actually stop talking and do my makeup?”

  “I will do your makeup, but I have no intention of not talking. In fact, I intend to talk the entire time, starting with my earliest childhood memory and working my way slowly and painstakingly through my comically awkward adolescence, all the way to my eventual transformation into the beautiful—albeit fluffy—swan you see before you today. They may even be ready for your scene by the time I am done with my fascinating monologue, which should be sometime next week.”


  “By all means, carry on,” said Kate, relaxing back into her chair and closing her eyes. “If you hear a sort of snoring sound, it just means that I am listening extra hard.”

  “Of course,” said Paige, clipping Kate’s bangs back with a gentle sweep of her hand. “I wouldn’t take it any other way. So, it all began thirty-five-ish years ago in lovely Berkeley, California…”

  Kate allowed herself to drift off to the comforting sound of Paige’s voice. She loved listening to her, loved her self-deprecating humor and her honesty. Paige was usually the person in the room who said what everyone else was thinking but was afraid to say out loud, and Kate envied her that freedom. She felt so restricted, so bound, by her fear of saying the wrong thing or, even if it was the right thing, that it would somehow be misquoted and used against her later. Hamilton was constantly reminding her that her conversations (with anyone other than him) were really currency for other people, whether they simply repeated what she said at a party to look popular and important or if they actually called a tabloid and traded her confidences for cold, hard cash. The scary part about the tabloids wasn’t how much they made up but how much they got right. And they were famous for getting their most accurate information from “on-set sources,” which meant that during her fourteen-to sixteen-hour workdays, Kate felt as if she were living in enemy territory, always wondering which one of her “friends” was actually a spy. She wanted desperately to believe that she could trust Paige, that their relationship could grow into a real friendship, but she had gotten so hurt during the “Katie the Cow” days when so much of what she had shared with people she thought she could trust had turned up on the front pages of the rags, always accompanied by an unflattering picture of her taken first thing in the morning, squinting into the harsh morning sun as she squatted down to pick up her newspaper, wearing an ugly, bulky robe or oversized sweatpants. Either that or the photo was an extreme close-up of her taking a bite of food at an outdoor restaurant. Never mind that the bite was usually just lettuce with no dressing—the close angle and the “Moooooooooooore food for Katie” caption created the illusion that she was an out-of-control glutton. She had solved that problem by choosing to embrace her hunger rather than food. She would never again be photographed eating outside, because she no longer met friends for lunch. She avoided being photographed when eating by not eating, and she avoided being misquoted by not sharing anything real with anyone. So she had won, and outside of the extreme emotional and physical deprivation, her victory was sweet indeed.