by J. J. Murray
Katharina pushed his hand lower, willing him not to say it. “Yeah. I really … too.” She smiled. “Who writes this shit?” She looked down at his hand. “Well, get me warmed up.”
Pietro’s finger found the spot.
Katharina pulled her shirt over her head. “Let’s make sure we made us a baby.” She pushed off her pants and boxers while Pietro kissed her stomach. “We have to get her out of me and under contract as soon as possible. I have bills to pay.”
Pietro looked up. “The popcorn will get cold.”
She pulled the popcorn bag close to her and took a handful. “I’ll be all right. I mean, it’s only fair.” She pushed his head down with her free hand. “If you get to eat, so do I.” She turned on the DVD player.
“Save me some.”
“Work fast, then.”
Chapter 41
Fish and Walt returned to L.A., Fish to work with another editor to finish the movie, Walt to make love to his wife for three weeks straight. Walt’s wife, Melissa, didn’t know what had come over her husband of twelve years, but she wasn’t complaining. Their two young sons wondered why their mommy and daddy were playing hide ‘n’ go seek so often, but that didn’t bother them because Daddy was finally home.
The two couples, one of them officially expecting a child, decided it was time for some sun and flew to Costa Rica. Katharina donated all her old clothes and shoes to charity, noting that few Costa Ricans would ever want to wear most of her shoes. She parted with her porta-posse, “firing” (and therefore freeing) them in a simple ceremony.
“I’m doing my own hair from now on,” she said to her hairstylist. “You’re fired.”
The hairstylist shed a few tears and kissed Katharina’s hand.
“I’m doing my own makeup from now on,” she said to her makeup artist. “You’re fired.”
The makeup artist fell to her knees and raised her hands to the sky.
“I’m dressing myself from now on, too,” she said to her dresser. “You’re fired.”
The dresser really cried. It was only the second job she had ever had, and she didn’t want to go back to Jack in the Box.
“Don’t worry,” Katharina said to her former employees. “I will give you all glowing recommendations. I’m sure there are plenty of other divas to serve out there.”
The porta-posse was not amused by this comment. Her dresser stopped crying and decided Jack in the Box would be a safer job.
Lucentio Pictures sent out a low-key press release two weeks before Christmas:
Katharina Minola, named best actress for My Honey Love, has finished filming A Woman Alone in the wilds of Ontario, Canada, her first picture in four years.
A survival tale, A Woman Alone is the story of a runaway American slave who finds ultimate free-dom—and the man of her dreams—while battling the brutality of nature.
Shot with state-of-the-art headset cameras, A Woman Alone was directed by Vincenzo Lucentio and Bianca Baptista, and also stars Pietro Lucentio and Curtis the Mule. Miss Minola wrote the screenplay, her first.
Miss Minola, who was paid five million dollars for her work, and Pietro Lucentio are expecting their first child. The couple is currently resting in Costa Rica with Miss Minola’s dog, Scottie.
Incredibly, no major paper or entertainment news television shows picked up on this historic event.
“No one ever reads the entire press release,” Vincenzo said while sipping a beer on the beach, Bianca beside him sunbathing topless. “Oh well.”
By the time someone at Entertainment Tonight had broken the story, however, the weary (but tan) band of four had already left Costa Rica for L.A.
ET interviewed various current divas for their reaction to the enormous sum paid to a “former” star. “No way!” several said, all of them wearing sunglasses inside because they had no home training. “Why?” asked another while holding her lapdog that was small enough to be caught in a mousetrap. “In American money or Canadian money?” asked the most cerebral of the lot. “I am firing my agent this very instant!” another cried, and the camera recorded her, indeed, firing her agent on the spot. The last diva, the oldest of the group, flicked some cigarette ash at the camera and said, dreamily, “They must have felt sorry for her.” She adjusted her hospital band and accepted some pills from her rehab recovery nurse. “You know, this is only my third trip here. They’re giving me a discount this time. I’m like a frequent flyer, you know?”
Fish found a company who put together a slick fifteen-second trailer, the only real advertising Lucentio Pictures did for the movie. It showed Katharina racing through the stream, clawing at mud, a hatchet slicing into a tree, and Pietro flitting through the woods in his bearskin disguise. The screen went black, Katharina’s voice chanting, “Now I lay me down to sleep …” The last thing anyone watching would have noticed, providing he or she didn’t flip through the channels, use the bathroom, or get something to eat, was:
A WOMAN ALONE
Katharina Minola
Christmas Day
(This film is not yet rated.)
When Katharina saw the trailer for the first time, she clicked off the TV and pulled Pietro’s head from her lap. “Why hasn’t my movie been rated yet?”
Pietro caught his breath. “Vincenzo says we’re trying for PG-13, but the fish and the squirrel, my ass in the stream, the little bit of leg you show at the end, and my extra, um, wood under the bearskin are causing problems.”
“Gimme your wood, Mr. Man,” Katharina whispered. “I want to set it on fire.”
A Woman Alone opened in very limited engagements at small independent theaters and art houses around the country on Christmas Day. The reviewers raved, rooted, and just about screamed: “Watch this one!” Even the Roger Leonard Dicks of the world were in agreement: “Katharina Minola sizzles and shines … her best work ever. “ “The cinematography will leave you breathless and give your heart palpitations.” …”Newcomer Pietro Lucentio is the beefcake Hollywood has been yearning for.” …”This is why we go to the movies!” …”Adventure, action, suspense, danger, romance—can it get any better than this?”
Because of some erroneous reporting and some excellent lies from Penelope, the paparazzi descended on Costa Rica and Rouyn-Noranda, only to find sand and snow, respectively. After A Woman Alone had played for two weeks in limited markets, Lucentio Pictures distributed it around the globe, and foreign audiences raved even more, since it was a movie they could watch and enjoy instead of read.
Pietro and Katharina (sans makeup) went everywhere together completely unnoticed. They shopped at Babies “R” Us. They spent time at a Home Depot matching paint to Petra’s crib. They walked the beach together and looked at sunsets. They hiked Yosemite with Bianca and Vincenzo. They ate at Jack in the Box, where Katharina asked for some paprika to sprinkle on her fries. Bianca freaked out because they had no paprika. They went to Knott’s Berry Farm just to walk around. They even went to the post office, where they stood in line to buy stamps.
When the Academy Award nominations came out, A Woman Alone was a popular choice, one of five films nominated for best picture, with seven nominations overall. Fish was nominated for best sound editing and for best cinematography—an unprecedented achievement. Bianca was somehow nominated for best costume design, and Vincenzo was nominated for best director. Katharina, as she had hoped, was nominated for best actress—and, amazingly, she was also nominated for best original screenplay.
Katharina laughed Pietro completely out of her when she heard the news. “Fish is going to be so happy! Two nominations for shit he basically just sat and watched! How’d Bianca get a nomination?”
“She’s sleeping with the director,” Pietro said.
“Oh yeah. Vincenzo as best director? No way! And I get two nominations, one basically for crossing out the shit that Walt wrote? This is insane!”
Pietro laughed himself back inside Katharina. “That’s what I love about this business.”
What was more
insane were the odds posted in Las Vegas for the Academy Award winners, especially for best director. Vincenzo was the favorite to win because, as one insider said, “Anyone who can direct Katharina Minola for two months, not quit, not go insane, and not go into hiding, and put out an outstanding movie deserves to win this award unanimously.”
After some lengthy discussion involving Katharina riding Curtis up the red carpet prior to the Academy Award ceremony at the Kodak Theatre, and after several days spent looking for the right dress “to maximize the fact that I’m almost showing,” Katharina decided instead to walk the red carpet with Pietro, Vincenzo, Bianca, Fish and his date (a tanned and toned Latina bodybuilder he met on the beach), and Walt and his wife, Melissa. Instead of the usual stretch limousine, Vincenzo hired the driver of a stretch Cadillac Escalade with spinners, lots of chrome, and a sound system that rattled the sidewalk. They emerged from their “ride,” as Fish called it, en masse, walking together up the red carpet—waving, smiling, blowing kisses, and generally ignoring every reporter who rudely shoved a microphone their way. Melissa seemed to be having the time of her life, especially when one reporter mistook her for Katharina.
There was an eerie and striking resemblance between Katharina Minola and Melissa Yearling.
Katharina gave Walt an extra kiss on the cheek for the compliment.
Once inside the theater, Katharina slipped off her shoes, wiggling her toes. No one seemed to notice, the focus of attention directed to the stage. After the awards for best art direction (which “God would have won for our movie,” Katharina said) and best makeup (which “no one would have won for our movie,” Katharina said), the best sound editing nominations were read.
Fish smiled at the camera as he heard his name.
He didn’t win, nor did Bianca for costume design.
“It’s okay,” Bianca whispered. “I mean, all I did was let you borrow my draws” She smiled. “Which reminds me, Katharina. Where is that Entertainment Tonight reporter? I have an exclusive story for her.”
Fish, who didn’t expect to win any awards, leaped from his seat when he heard his name as the winner for best cinematography. He kissed his date on the cheek, slapped hands down the row, and ran up to take his award.
“Wow!” he said with a smile. “I’d like to thank that entire row down there for making this possible for me. Without them, I wouldn’t have had anything to play with. Trust me. They gave me miles of mayhem. I really don’t have a speech, but I do have a song.”
Katharina led the others in standing and shouting, “No!”
Fish smiled. “I was just kidding. Lighten up, Katharina. Thank you! Thank you all!”
The very next award, after an interminable commercial break, was for best screenplay. Katharina was the only woman, the only person of color, and the only person under fifty among the nominees.
She won.
She turned her head slowly to Pietro as applause filled the theater. “They’re shitting me, right?”
Pietro helped her to her feet.
“Go with me?” she whispered.
Pietro nodded.
Katharina let Pietro lead her to the stage, where she took her award and laughed out loud at it. She stood on tiptoes to whisper in Pietro’s ear: “Oscar doesn’t have a penis.”
Pietro blushed.
“Let me first say thank you to my boyfriend, Pietro,” Katharina said as the applause ended. She gave him a long, soulful, deep kiss. “You know, I don’t thank him enough.” She gave him a longer, more soulful, deeper kiss. She “placed” him a few feet away. “Down, boy. Stay.”
Some laughter rippled through the crowd.
“When I won my first one of these fifteen years ago, I stood up here and blanked. Really. It happens. Everyone in this room knows what I mean. You’re excited, you’re amped, and then … poof. I didn’t have a single thought in my head except ‘Damn, I won!’ In my excitement, I forgot to thank the people who helped me win that first award, and I’d like to fix all that tonight. I’d like to thank my director, Paul Stewart, for putting up with me; my costars, Jermaine Martin, Toni Collins, and C. J. Jones—also for putting up with me; and, most of all, I’d like to thank Walter Yearling for writing a script just for me.” She smiled at Walter and Melissa. “Thank you, Walter. And thanks also for helping me clean up from the party none of y’all attended.”
“And now,” Katharina continued, “to this award. I really don’t deserve it. Really. I mean, it practically wrote itself. I would think it, and there it would be on the page. You wouldn’t believe the rewrites. The fax machine was broken from day one … I won’t bore you with all that. Tonight I would like to thank Walter Yearling again for his support and John ‘Fish’ Fisher for bringing this script to life. Vincenzo Lucentio for his incredible direction. Bianca Baptista for her incredible costumes—and the granola bars. But mostly, I’d like to thank Pietro Lucentio, my costar, and my man. You know, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank him enough. But I’m gonna try.”
Katharina set another record that evening for the longest kiss onstage at an Academy Award ceremony. If the music hadn’t swelled to a crescendo, she might have still been sucking Pietro’s face until well after midnight.
Chapter 42
Once offstage, Katharina ran past reporters, Academy officials, and other people who wanted to interview her, dragging Pietro behind her. “We’re getting out of here,” she said, zipping down a hallway to an exit.
“We’re not going to wait to hear who wins the other awards?”
Katharina flipped out her cell phone. “No.” She called the Escalade driver. “We’re around back. Come get us.” She closed her phone. “I won’t win, anyway.”
“You might.”
She nuzzled her head into Pietro’s neck. “For the first time in my life, I don’t have to win. It doesn’t really matter. I’m just Dena from Tenth Street from now on. I have another trophy, and if they really knew how I ‘wrote’ the script, they’d take it back. I have a good man, and we’re having a baby. Vincenzo, Fish, and Bianca can go up for me if I win.” She shrugged. “Bianca stole the show anyway, didn’t she?”
Their “limo” showed up, bass thumping. A few photographers snapped shots as Katharina and Pietro got in and the Escalade sped out of sight down Hollywood Boulevard.
“Where are we going, Katharina?” Pietro asked.
“The beach,” Katharina said, looking down at her bare feet. “Pietro, you let me go up on that stage without my shoes.”
“Yep.”
Katharina laughed and rested her head on his shoulder. “I may never wear shoes again.” She looked at her man. “We make a nice screen couple.”
Pietro kissed her cheek. “Yeah, we do. Rambo and the Diva.”
“No. A big hairy teddy bear and the former diva.”
The Escalade cruised down Santa Monica Boulevard for several miles.
“Did I tame you?” Pietro asked.
Katharina thought a few moments. “A little.”
“Just a little?” Pietro asked.
“A lot, Pietro, all right? You tamed my heart.” Katharina looked out the window and yelled, “Stop here!”
The Escalade screeched to a halt.
Katharina opened the door and jumped out. “But you have yet to tame my mind!”
The sand felt wonderful to Katharina as she ran toward the surf. I will never buy another pair of shoes like those again. Those things strangle my feet. Paying a thousand dollars for shoes that give you pain is just plain stupid! Like Bianca, I will go through life as barefoot as possible. Though now I’m barefoot and pregnant in a five-thousand-dollar dress. Oh, the ironies of my life.
Pietro caught up to Katharina, turned her around, and held her. “You know I really … I really love you, Katharina. I want to marry you.”
Katharina did a happy dance in her head. Ah, the magic word, and, yes, this is the right time to hear it. But I have to make him work for it. She pushed Pietro back. “I’ll see you hanged f
irst.”
Pietro, at first hurt, smiled when he saw that Katharina’s eyes were full of light. “You will be my wife, Kate.”
Katharina turned her back on Pietro. “I told you not to call me Kate.”
Pietro walked around and faced her. “You will be my wife, Katharina.”
Katharina looked at Pietro’s fabulous suit. “Look how you’re dressed. I couldn’t possibly marry a man dressed as nicely as you are. I need a rugged man, a mountain man, a big, hairy, tree-hugging man who owns a mule with a spastic colon.”
Pietro was speechless.
Katharina reached under her dress and took out several pages stapled together. “I’m sorry you had to see me do that.” She handed the pages to Pietro. “Just follow the script. Start at the beginning.”
Pietro scanned what looked, indeed, like a script. “What is this?”
Katharina smiled. “It’s a script. I don’t blame you for not knowing it was a script. I doubt you’ve actually ever seen one. Oh. I go first.” She walked to the edge of the water and did a dramatic turn.
“You wrote a script for my proposal?” Pietro asked.
Katharina wriggled her feet deeper into the wet sand. “I scripted our romance, didn’t I?”
“I had a lot to do with it, Katharina.”
“So you say.” She flashed her eyes. “Humor me.”
Pietro looked up at the stars. “How did you know I was going to propose to you tonight?”
Katharina looked up at the stars, too. “It was written in the stars.”
“No. Seriously.”
Katharina picked up a foot and flung sand into the crashing waves. “You went ring shopping with Vincenzo—you know, the man who can’t keep a secret? He blabbed to Bianca, and Bianca said that she wanted one, too. Bianca came running to me all teary and crying like a diva…. It was a pretty ugly business.”
“Oh.”
Katharina cleared her throat. “Okay. I haven’t memorized lines in a while, so bear with me.”
