She's The One

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by J. J. Murray




  Outstanding Praise for the Novels of J. J. MURRAY!

  THE REAL THING

  “Simply put, this book is funny, engaging and an excellent read.”

  —RT Book Review

  ORIGINAL LOVE

  “Full of interesting characters, Murray’s novel about a romantic journey of self-discovery is a true standout.”—Booklist

  “Touching, soul-searching … not only entertaining, but enlightening as well.” —RAWSistaz

  SOMETHING REAL

  “Something Real is about a woman finding herself and finding her voice in a community too quick to judge. Renee and Jay was a promising debut. Something Real, which is a more mature and richer work, is even better.”

  —The Roanoke Times

  RENEE AND JAY

  “An update of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, with a twist.” —Essence

  “Renee and Jay is the interracial Romeo and Juliet for the new millennium … Renee and Jay is a great read, and I really could not stop reading it until I got to the last page.” —Shonell Bacon, editor of The Nubian Chronicles

  “J. J. Murray has a terrific sense of humor! The ability of the author to write a fast-paced story with funny scenes, outspoken social commentary, and quite a few twists will cause Renee and Jay to be one of this year’s most popular reads.” —Cydney Rax, Book-Remarks

  “J. J. Murray has thoroughly ‘schooled’ black and white America on loving with the heart and not the eyes … Renee and Jay is a real Romeo and Juliet set in small time Black America! It’s a soap opera in the palms of your hands … and there’s no waiting for tomorrow’s episode.”

  —Latorial Faison, Poetically Speaking

  Books by J. J. Murray

  RENEE AND JAY

  SOMETHING REAL

  ORIGINAL LOVE

  I’M YOUR GIRL

  CAN’T GET ENOUGH OF YOUR LOVE

  TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING

  THE REAL THING

  SHE’S THE ONE

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  She’s the One

  J. J. Murray

  All copyrighted material within is

  Attributor Protected.

  KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2011 by J. J. Murray

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  All Kensington titles, imprints, and distributed lines are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotion, premiums, fund-raising, educational, or institutional use.

  Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Special Sales Manager: Attn. Special Sales Department. Kensington Publishing Corp., 119 West 40th Street, New York, NY 10018. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

  Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  eISBN-13: 978-0-7582-6784-9

  eISBN-10: 0-7582-6784-3

  First Kensington Trade Paperback Printing: March 2011

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Printed in the United States of America

  A woman moved is like a fountain troubled.

  —William Shakespeare, The Taming of the Shrew

  Shrews are sharp-snouted mice covered with short, dark hair. Ferocious tiny warriors, whose hearts can beat as fast as fifteen hundred times a minute, shrews must feast constantly to stay alive, their bite sometimes lethal to their prey. Shrews’ rank, garlicky scent shields them against rivals, and some shrews have large brains, immense eyes, and claws on their fingers and toes.

  A shrew is not dangerous to humanity—

  Unless the shrew is human and an out-of-work actress who has not made a hit movie in fifteen years …

  Contents

  Outstanding Praise for the Novels of J. J. MURRAY!

  Books by J. J. Murray

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter 1

  Vincenzo Lucentio, the CEO of Lucentio Pictures, stared in awe at the thick file his staff had compiled on actress Katharina Minola.

  Geez, he thought. And I think this woman will be a match for my younger brother, Pietro? I must be crazy. This might never work.

  Unless we have some nasty weather, the muddier and snowier the better, and just a little bit of luck.

  He weighed the file in his hand, a good pound of newspaper and magazine clippings, glossy and grainy photographs. He even had a list of links to Web sites that still carried some of Katharina’s infamous interviews and stories of her notorious exploits.

  He sighed often as he read the cover sheet written by Penelope Bishop, his senior production assistant and executive secretary, the real power behind Lucentio Pictures since his grandfather’s time. Vincenzo frowned here and there, but mainly he cringed at Penelope’s acidic and far-too-accurate prose.

  “A scold,” “a fury,” “a spitfire”—the press has had a field day with Katharina “Kate the Cursed” Minola (born Dena Hinson in Roanoke, Virginia), 36, a DIVA (Dismissive, Insensitive, Villainous, Audacious) fully immersed in her “divatude” since winning an Academy Award for best actress (My Honey Love, Lucentio Pictures) in her first major role when she was only 21.

  Katharina has yet to repeat what TIME called “a breakthrough performance for women of color,” cranking out eighteen consecutive mediocre movies (three for Lucentio Pictures) and one so infamously bad (Miss Thang) that she won a Golden Raspberry Award (the dreaded “Razzie”) for worst actress. Miss Thang currently ranks sixth on the ten worst movies ever made, behind Plan 9 From Outer Space, Glen or Glenda, Santa Claus Conquers the Martians, Gigli, and Catwoman.

  Katharina did not show up to claim her Razzie.

  (Note: Oscar-winner Halle Berry did show up to claim her Razzie for Catwoman, saying, “I never in my life thought that I would be here, winning a Razzie. It’s not like I ever aspired to be here, but thank you … When I was a kid, my mother told me that if you could not be a good loser, then there’s no way you could be a good winner.” Berry also said, “First of all, I want to thank Warner Brothers. Thank you for putting me in a piece of shit, God-awful movie…. It was just what my career needed.”)

  At least Halle Berry had t
he class to show up and make it work for her, Vincenzo thought. Berry did Their Eyes Were Watching God right after Catwoman to considerable acclaim, has never been out of work since then, as far as I know, and now she’s doing some producing and enjoying her greatest role as a mother. If we can’t laugh at ourselves and our mistakes, especially in this business, what good are we?

  What followed was a list of Katharina’s rumored, alleged, and factual divalike behavior since her success with My Honey Love:

  During the only Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade she was asked to cohost, Katharina yelled at a musician for “playing way too close to my face” (New York Post).

  Only days after getting engaged to Ward Booker, an up-and-coming black actor, Katharina ran off to Paris with Booker’s best friend, David Stanley, a bodybuilder, for “a restful holiday and shopping trip away from the stress of daily life” (People).

  Upon her return from Paris, Katharina watched “in utter horror” (Los Angeles Times) as Booker and Stanley had a fistfight at Spago, both men arrested for “fighting over little ol’ me” (Us).

  Katharina has consistently made “worst dressed lists” for ten of the past fourteen years but says the compilers of those lists are “all incredibly, horribly wrong, beyond stupid, and very, very blind” (Vogue). Her favorite “worst” outfit is tiger-striped from head to toe including headband, sunglasses, blouse, pants, handbag, and stiletto-heeled shoes.

  During the filming of Miss Thang, Katharina refused to leave her deluxe motor home and trailer (complete with hot tub) until the script improved. “I spent a lot of time in my trailer with that awful picture” (Premiere). Three directors quit the production, two citing mental breakdowns. The director listed in the credits is “Alan Smithee”—that notorious and obvious nom de plume used by dissatisfied directors since 1969’s Death of a Gunfighter starring Lena Horne and Richard Widmark. One of the directors retired from filmmaking entirely, now sells shoes at a local mall, and at last report, seems quite happy.

  Katharina never should have left her trailer, Vincenzo thought. No one should have ever made that ghastly farce of a picture, which earned her that “Kate the Cursed” nickname, a nickname she just can’t seem to shake.

  Until four years ago, her entourage (which the media still calls her “porta-posse”) included:

  a makeup artist

  a personal hairstylist

  a wardrobe designer

  a “dresser” (“I wouldn’t dream of getting dressed and leaving without her”—Woman’s Day)

  an official photographer and videographer (recently fired)

  her yoga instructor, Rajiv (recently deceased)

  a masseur named Mikhail (recently deported)

  a dog walker (hit by a car, still in rehab) for her Scottish terrier, Scottie

  a director of photography for interviews (see below)

  one or more gophers / assistants (see below)

  Katharina has fired numerous assistants for the following “infractions”:

  not bringing her daily Los Angeles Times, Variety, and New York Times to her before 8 AM

  not putting a straw in her drink, “and it must be one of the crinkly kind” (Elle)

  not cutting the crusts off her sandwiches (she prefers chunky chicken salad on plain white bread)

  not bringing enough shoes or bringing the wrong shoes to a shoot

  She fired her last assistant for baking a birthday cake for her thirty-sixth birthday. Her most recent assistant, Bianca Baptista, has been on the job for six weeks, four days longer than the average employment of Katharina’s other assistants.

  Blessed with a peculiar sense of smell, Katharina claims to sense odors that seemingly do not exist. She wears only her own perfume (¡Katharina!, sold only at Kmart now).

  All but a handful of airlines have banned Katharina for life for cabin crew abuse. Here is the list of airlines that still tolerate her: Air Vanuatu, Croatia Airlines, Air Kazakhstan, Phuket Air, and Virgin Atlantic.

  After filming the romantic comedy Filet of Dish (a box office flop that earned a special Razzie for worst title ever), Katharina disparaged the city of Boston: “It smells like the ocean” (Boston Herald). She also took potshots at the people of the State of Massachusetts: “I’ll bet ninety percent of these people cannot even spell their state’s name” (New York Times). After a public outcry in Boston, Katharina issued an apology through her publicist (long since fired and rehired—twice), adding, “I hope the Yankees win the pennant.” Boston won it all that year.

  At meet and greet sessions to autograph pictures of herself during the height of her fame, Katharina routinely asked that fans not hug, kiss, or look directly at her at any time.

  On The Today Show five years ago, Katie Couric asked her, “So, do you see yourself as a mother in the future?” Katharina’s reply: “Oh, I just adore children. I want to have a little girl just like me.”

  Vincenzo shuddered. Just like she is now or the nice person she used to be? No matter what, that girl would be a beautiful child. She and Pietro could have a gorgeous daughter, and I would pray every day that she took after her father in the attitude department … unless Katharina changes back to the wonderful woman I met fifteen years ago.

  For extended hotel stays and shoots, Katharina demands all-black furniture, a vase full of long-stemmed red roses, a humidifier, 400-count cotton sheets, and blackout drapes on all windows. She once rented a suite at New York’s Plaza Hotel (at $4,500 a night) but walked out on a two-week reservation because the staff forgot to make the bed with the 400-count sheets.

  Addicted to Prozac after the fallout from Miss Thang, Katharina has kicked the habit (without going into rehab) through regular exercise, meditation on the Bible, and yoga. “I don’t know why more people don’t use yoga and meditation to cleanse themselves…. It works, and I’m the proof” (Shape).

  “Good for her,” Vincenzo said aloud. That will be one fewer demon for us to deal with. He shook his head. We’re going to have enough demons to deal with as it is.

  Katharina permits no one on the set to have her “signature” blue-green eyes. During the filming of Shoots and Letters, a child actor and a dog lost their jobs because they had such eyes. A production assistant had to remove a doll with similar eyes from the background of one shot in When Mama’s Mad, Everybody’s Mad. “Call me superstitious” (HollywoodSleaze.com). (Note: This isn’t superstition. This is the grossest form of vanity—Penelope.)

  Weeping when given her star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame two years ago, Katharina gave her “best acting performance since My Honey Love” (HollywoodInsider). Only two photographers and one network showed up for the nonevent. The network promptly posted Katharina’s three-minute sob session online, and it’s been a running joke on You Tube ever since.

  Considering herself a singer after her memorable humming scene in My Honey Love, Katharina cut Lovin’ My Honey, a CD that contained ten instantly forgettable love songs. Sony pressed 50,000 CDs; 813 sold. The remainder has been “selling” for $0.01 one Bay at two per year.

  And I’m one of the idiots who bought it, Vincenzo thought. My cat liked it. Katharina’s a good hummer. Lyrics, however, gave her (and anyone listening) the blues.

  Her self-styled director of photography (Sven, since fired) had so angered the technical staffs on Oprah, Ellen, and The Tyra Banks Show that producers for those shows no longer considered Katharina for guest spots. Since then, she manages the lighting herself on whatever talk show will have her, reportedly asking that there be no “shine” on her face and that the cameras capture her only from the waist up.

  Why is she hiding her lower body? Vincenzo thought. She is in outstanding shape and has the nicest legs!

  For her pre-Oscar party fifteen years ago, Katharina tried to get Vogue to foot the bill, but Vogue wouldn’t ante up for her dress, makeup, fifty dozen roses, and, reportedly, $100,000 for champagne. A caterer from Glendale did the event at last notice. Several stars showed up for a few minutes and left
soon after. She hasn’t thrown a party since.

  The wings were good, Vincenzo thought. Even the pigs in a blanket weren’t half bad.

  At the height of her “powers,” Katharina could phone Il Pastaio in Beverly Hills and close it down just for herself and (at that time) a number of men reputed to be her bodyguards. According to an unidentified Il Pastaio worker, even though no other diners were in the restaurant, her bodyguards still surrounded her so the wait staff couldn’t see her eat. “She said we couldn’t speak to her or even look her in the eye,” the worker posted on HollywoodGossip.com. “And then she had the nerve to order wonton soup! The bitch ordered Chinese food in an Italian restaurant! On top of that, she didn’t even leave a tip! I’ll bet she even expected her meal to be comped! It’s the same with all these divas! They expect the world to lick their shit and ask for seconds!”

  In one of her most infamous acts five years ago, Katharina refused to walk the red carpet at the Kodak Theatre for the Academy Awards ceremony (on live television) until the carpet was completely empty. Though not nominated since My Honey Love, she stayed in her purple limousine for a half hour, delaying the arrivals of many other stars, several of whom were actually up for awards. Reed Richards, the eventual best director winner, had to go through a side entrance. She then ordered her limousine driver to “stay put until I finish this phone call and I’m inside the theater.” (Note: Although I have not confirmed this, E! Online claims her “thirty-nine-minute sashay up the red carpet” is by far the all-time record. The delay allowed photographers to get cigarette breaks and pushed the entire ceremony back thirty minutes—Penelope.)

 

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