She didn’t let him. “Sir Charles.”
“Yeah, right,” he scoffed. “I don’t buy that.”
“Doesn’t matter, Eddie,” she sighed and looked at the picture bolted on the wall. “It’s just a story.”
He looked at her and frowned as he shook his head. “You’re not going to give me a break here, are you? I know you wrote that for Tom. All of us do. He isn’t dating Tina any more,” he added. “Ever since that flub at the awards. Did you see what happened?”
Leslie just nodded as she looked at the glass in her hand. Her heart had jumped when Tom started to say her name instead of Tina’s. “That was a long time ago,” she mumbled in a monotone that revealed nothing.
She didn’t fool Eddie. “Next time, you’ll be there together,” he predicted.
Leslie stood and set her glass down next to his feet. “It’s late. I need to go to bed. I had to drive myself here, you know. Some of us lowly writers don’t get the pampered treatment you stars get.”
“Poor baby. If you lived down south where you belong you could have come with us,” was his sharp reply as she was shutting the door to returned to her own room.
In the darkness Leslie stared up at the ceiling. She allowed one lone tear to roll down her cheek before she clamped down her emotions. “Why are you doing this to me, Eddie?” she whispered out loud. “It’s hard enough as it is.”
Wayne had winced when he read Leslie’s sixth book DECPETIONS in which a rival of Andrew’s over Maggie turns out to be a wicked agent from the future who tries to destroy the squad from the inside. Wayne had felt a barrier had arisen between him and Leslie ever since his confession, and this book, to him, proved it still existed. It wasn’t her best work—there was too much anger throughout the writing—but it would make an interesting episode if she got the script finished in time for the end of the season.
Wayne and Janice had bought a house in one of the newer subdivisions in Amherst and settled into their domestic life. Leslie was an occasional visitor when she could be pried away from her typewriter. She smiled when they talked of travel and yard work, mortgages and babies, family reunions and picnics. They asked about her work and what was the news from Los Angeles and New York. Wayne asked if she could tone down her next script and change the character’s name from Wain to something else.
“But, Wayne, no one else would know unless you told them,” was her reply.
They never mentioned Tom or Phillip any longer. Soon the talk would center on the dinners and the nights out with other couples or the trip they would take with this or that family.
As had happened with Renee, Leslie felt uncomfortable as the only single one amongst the couples. She found convenient excuses for refusing the offers when they came and found she had more spare time on her hands and no one with whom to share it.
She knew being a single, successful businesswoman was an accomplishment and knew there wasn’t any shame in being alone. A lot of people viewed this as a great time for her to travel and see the world.
Taking their advice, she began her climb out of her almost self-exile by booking a week-long cruise to the Mexican Riviera. Once onboard, and anticipating the myriad of fun activities the ship promised, she explored the ship from stem to stern before it sailed. After unpacking in her private cabin, she had gone up on deck just as they were setting sail, watching the festivities as the ship slowly pulled away from the dock. Streamers flying in the breeze, the ship’s horn bellowing a parting blast, she smiled as she looked around. However, what she saw were all the happy couples around her hugging and waving good-bye. She was the only single person on that deck. “I’ve just made an awful mistake,” she mumbled to herself as the ship’s band started playing and the couples started dancing around her on the deck.
The rest of the cruise was spent on the fantail, notebook in hand, writing the outlines for her next two books.
No, there wasn’t any shame in being single. It was just that, for the first time in her life, she realized she was incredibly lonely.
CHAPTER 15
There were a few new, unexpected names at the Stargazer Awards that spring. The movie industry had a wider choice from which to choose their honorees for outstanding performances. Phillip Beck was up for Outstanding Actor and Tina Rowan for the Best Supporting Actress, both for their roles in the British film they had made together the previous year.
Phillip had appeared on “The Time Police” twice last season as he had agreed but was totally disappointed the scripts weren’t from Bunny. He hadn’t heard from or about her in quite a while. As his career flourished and he immersed himself into his newfound celebrity and charity work, his ‘personal fan’ seemed to be fading from his memory. He even forgot to ask Eddie about her.
Now, sitting there waiting for the highest honor an actor could receive, he found he was quite nervous as he and Tina waited together in the front row of the audience of their peers. Smiling, he clapped as the four other actor’s names were announced and grinned when his own name was said last. A short clip from the movie was run, which, to Phillip, seemed to last forever.
The presenter, a prominent actress, opened the golden seal and nodded her head approvingly. “Phillip Beck!” she read aloud and smiled broadly.
Phillip found himself onstage holding the gold statue and facing an applauding group of fellow actors. It took him a few seconds to remember his speech. Clutching the award, he, in an emotion-filled voice, thanked all those who had helped and believed in him all those years. He was grateful to the industry for the recognition and thanked his agent and all the co-workers by name. He even thanked certain directors and writers. Deeply touched and appreciative, he exited to a standing ovation.
Three hundred miles away, Leslie watched the live broadcast alone in her apartment. She was thrilled when she first learned Phillip had been nominated and now impatiently watched the entire show to see if he would win.
She, too, clapped when his name was announced and she listened breathlessly to his speech. Even though she had not contacted him in such a long time, she still felt some kind of vague, indefinable bond between them. He had encouraged her, and she had written him two wonderful scripts. She noticed the close-up of the bunny pin he had worn at the Public Opinion Awards and knew, thanks to Eddie, that gesture was just for her.
Near at hand was a greeting card she had found for Phillip that had rabbits spelling out the word congratulations. It was addressed and ready to go. All Phillip had to do was win.
As the ovation followed Phillip offstage, a hand reached up and slowly clicked off the television. Leslie sat back in her chair and stared unseeing at the black screen, the joyful expression having faded from her face.
Phillip had thanked everyone Leslie knew from the series, even Russell the extra who was used in every episode. The only name he had left out was hers.
Backstage, after the ceremony had ended, was the kind of chaos in which actors and photographers often found themselves. All of those who had won the major categories were given first interviews and then led off to one of the parties filled with music, food, and friends.
Phillip was trying to juggle a plate of food and a drink as he worked his way through the crowd acknowledging the accolades and greeting his friends as he went. He was approached by a well-known reporter who snapped a picture and asked for a private interview.
Phillip smiled as he replied, “I’d love to, but you’ll have to contact my agent to set up the time. Let me get you his card.”
They went to a quiet corner where Phillip set down his plate and goblet and reached for his wallet. As he fumbled through the cards a beat-up snapshot fell out and onto the floor. The reporter retrieved it and handed it back as he took the offered business card. Not looking at the agent’s card, he was now curious as he watched Phillip. Because of the confused look on the actor’s face, it was obvious he didn’t remember there had been a photo in his wallet.
Phillip temporarily forgot the reporter and the loud pa
rty going on around him as he opened the folded picture. His perplexed expression turned to one of surprised recognition as he looked at the shot. A six-foot tall amusement park rabbit was hugging a brown-haired woman. A pleased smile crossed his face as he leaned back against the wall and continued to stare at the crumpled snapshot. All this time he had somehow overlooked it.
He remembered the day he first saw this particular picture and the letter that had accompanied it. All the memories returned that he had pushed to the back of his mind and eventually forgot. His special fan who had liked his work. The fan who wrote CHATEAU REX which had really put him in the public’s eye. She had known what he could do.
Smiling, he silently thanked Bunny as he refolded the picture and carefully returned it to his wallet. When someone jostled against him he was mentally brought back to the party and his surroundings. As he stood there, his pleasant smile froze and then slowly began to fade, the only observer being the reporter silently watching his face.
Phillip looked around the room at all the people talking and laughing and dancing. He knew almost all of them and was friends with the majority. However, he realized, two years ago he wouldn’t have been invited as a guest, let alone as a nominee. Now he had just won the highest honor. And he had forgotten the one person who had been there in spirit and had given him that one script for which he had waited. It was then that he realized he never even mentioned her.
Phillip’s eyes closed briefly and he leaned his head back against the wall. Whispering in a soft voice that only the reporter heard, he murmured, “Sorry, Bunny.”
Against her wishes, Leslie found herself on the commuter jet and on her way to Los Angeles again. Richard Avery told her it was imperative that she come to the studio that afternoon. There were problems with her last script that required her attention. They were finishing the season with her DECEPTIONS story, and he refused to use the fax machine. Leslie was needed, and her contract stipulated her final authorization. He said he sympathized with her reasons for not wanting to come and agreed to work with her even though, in his own mind, he thought she was being unprofessional and silly.
The same driver met her at the airport with a smile of recognition on both their faces. The limousine was all hers. Leslie rested her head back against the plush seat. She was weary. After working so hard on the last script to meet the studio’s deadline, they had abruptly changed the filming date. Now it would be the final episode and apparently they were unhappy with her work.
Leslie had already decided to take some time off before beginning her next book. Her fans wanted another Professor Rex story. The studio was interested in a story that featured the Maggie Rush character. Eddie had blatantly hinted about a story that would send them back to the days of pirates so he could show off his swordsmanship, but Leslie just wanted to rest for a while. She had her own ideas for her next projects but now lacked the necessary ambition and drive. Instead of following up on her idea of going abroad to a spa and being pampered for two or three weeks, she was now on her way to Majestic Studio. Once again there was the need to confront Richard and Ron, while trying to avoid the actual set and the actors. It was a toil more than her tired mind and spirit could deal with at the moment.
The car was waved through the security checkpoint and wound its way through the lot to the main offices. The driver informed Leslie he would wait with her baggage to take her to the hotel when she was through inside.
Grabbing her briefcase and entering the building, the first receptionist recognized and welcomed her. Mr. Avery wanted the author on the set in the production booth as soon as she arrived and she was handed her security pass badge.
Inwardly groaning, she thanked the woman and went back to the car. As the limo headed for the building that housed “The Time Police” set, Leslie attached the badge to her dress pocket and fought down her nerves. She hoped she could get to the booth unseen by any of the cast.
The guard was expecting her as he called for an aide to escort Leslie. She smiled as she walked past some props she had described in her book that would be used by the enemy agent.
She was left at the stairs and climbed up to the booth, knocking as she opened the door. All inside turned as she entered to greet her. Mr. Avery left the window to come over and Ron briefly nodded as he returned to the script. The actors were doing a walk-through guided by the assistant director. By turning her back to it, Leslie avoided the window as she was motioned over by Nickles. The position was observed by the two men who exchanged a brief look.
“Miss Nelson, we understand your reluctance to be here, but we require your cooperation to get this handled speedily. Then you can run and hide or do whatever you think you should,” Ron briefly stated as he indicated which script page was being rehearsed.
Leslie shot him an embarrassed, angry look as she opened her briefcase to remove her script. Biting back the sharp retort on her tongue, she concentrated on the scene. She was immediately familiar with where they were and forced herself to look at the set on the soundstage below. All the regulars were there along with the guest star portraying Wain. Her eyes couldn’t help it and strayed to Tom. He looked the same as ever.
Richard handed her a set of headphones. “Put these on and we’ll run through the scene again. I’m sure you’ll be able to immediately identify the problem.” He touched a button on the console to tell the assistant director to begin again.
When the announcement was given the whole cast looked up at the production window. Leslie took an involuntary step back even though she knew she couldn’t be seen over the glare of the lights.
All in the booth followed along as the cast went through the confrontation scene between Wain and the squad. The dialogue abruptly ended where the fight scene would be put in.
Leslie could see nothing wrong. “I don’t see what the problem is,” she admitted. “Does it run too long or what?”
Mr. Avery shook his head. “You thought that sounded fine? Ron, have them do it again.”
The actors repeated the scene. Their reactions and their responses were just as they had been written. To Leslie it sounded feasible for the tense situation. She removed her headphones and patted down her hair. “I still think it sounds good. If you’ll tell me what you don’t like about it, I’ll try to see if from your angle,” she offered with a helpless shrug.
Richard and Ron discussed this between themselves in low voices. Ron then left the booth and went down to the set. The cameras were positioned and everyone took their marks. As Leslie watched, the scene was repeated and filmed. Half of the actors left the set and those remaining did some close-ups and reaction shots.
A confused Leslie alternated between watching the action and listening on the headphones while comparing the script. Mr. Avery was busy with the proceedings and ignored her.
In an hour the seven minute scene had been shot and reshot. At a signal from Ron, Avery glanced at the technicians who nodded at him. He hit a button on one of the consoles. “Okay, people, that’s a wrap. Good job. Five o’clock at The Pier,” he announced as everyone cleared the set and disappeared.
Leslie was staring at him with her mouth slightly open. “What was the big problem?” she wanted to know. “Where’s everyone going?”
Richard gave her a smug smile. “We wanted to make sure you were happy with the final scene.”
“Final?” she echoed, bewildered by this strangeness. “That’s not the end of the story. No wonder you don’t understand….”
“No, no,” he interrupted. “I know that’s not the final scene of the show. It’s just the final scene we had to shoot. All the others were done. We needed your approval.”
For a moment Leslie was dumbfounded. When she found her voice again she managed to control the anger that had arisen. “You mean to tell me I came all this way for nothing?” she quietly demanded. “This was a trick? Why, pray tell?”
Ron came back into the booth at that moment and saw the writer’s red face. “Oooh,” he grinned. “Somebo
dy’s not happy.”
“This isn’t funny, Ron,” Leslie stated as she slammed shut her script and stuffed it into her briefcase. “I would like to know what you wanted that was so important that I approve it.”
Ron shrugged and pushed his glasses up on top of his head. “Didn’t want you to miss the party.”
Leslie looked back out the window. Some of the props were already being carried away. “I don’t want to go to a party. You seem to know why. I’d like to go home since I’m not really needed here.”
Mr. Avery shook his head, unconcerned by her outburst. “No can do, Les. There’s not another flight until tomorrow night.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Leslie averred. “There’s always flights. There should be one at eleven.”
“Booked solid,” Ron told her, leaning back on the console.
The anger flooded out of Leslie. She sank down into a chair. She was tired of fighting and she was tired of explaining. “You’re going to make me go whether I want to or not, is that it?” she resignedly asked.
Richard motioned her to the door. “I usually expect more enthusiasm at my parties,” he grumbled as they walked down the stairs. Only some technicians were left working about the set. “Leslie, let me tell you something I don’t ever tell the writers. I probably should tell them, but I don’t. They tend to get swelled heads and demand more money. You’ve done good work for this show. We were already in the Top Ten, but you helped keep us there. We’ve even picked up more awards because of your scripts. And you know what CHATEAU REX did for Beck.” He paused and glanced at her face, expecting some indication of how she was reacting so far. She was unreadable. She’s doing it to me again! he grumbled to himself. Continuing out loud, he said, “You deserve to be at this celebration as much as anyone here. I know your personal reasons behind all your refusals, and I think they are ridiculous!” he declared with feeling as he opened the outer door. Before he allowed her to get into the car, he finished what he had to say. “I like you, Leslie. Whenever we’ve disagreed on some point with your stories, sometimes you were wrong and you were gracious in your corrections. But, you’ve usually been right. However, this time you’re wrong. You probably think I don’t have any right to talk to you this way. But I know how Tom has been affected this past year and I can see how you’ve changed, too. You’re obviously not happy. Tom’s miserable when he’s not working. Something has to be done. This is my studio, so I’m doing something,” he stated and removed his arm that had been blocking the car door. “Now, get in the blasted car.”
The Fan Letter Page 24
