by Rachel Astor
Angels began to sing in my head. Okay, maybe it wasn’t that dramatic, but seriously, things finally seemed to be coming together.
A date.
We were going to set a date.
We sat on the couch and pulled out our phones. It’s not like I had much in mine, I didn’t even have a job, for Pete’s sake, so I waited for him to scroll through page after page of calendar.
“You really should get an assistant like everyone else in Hollywood.”
Jake rolled his eyes. “Everyone in Hollywood does not have an assistant. That’s just what they’d have you believe in movies,” he said, with a wink. “Okay, so when were you thinking?”
I shrugged. “Whenever we can fit it in your schedule.” I stared at my sad, sad calendar.
At least, I supposed, I’d have one date to enter.
“Okay, well, I’ve got the junket for Live in Fear coming up right away, which will only take a couple weeks. Then there’s that independent film I was telling you about, that one goes from March, possibly until mid-May at the latest.”
I nodded, already cringing that he was going to be gone again.
“And then Prime Civilization 3 starts shooting at the start of June. And that one’s a long shoot. Nine months.”
Nine months in New Zealand. I wondered if I’d get used to the climate in nine months. If I even went. In which case, I was sure I’d be racking up a lot of frequent flyer miles.
“So, it’s either in three and a half months, or we have to wait over a year.”
He shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry.”
I waved his concern away. I’d been thinking a lot about how much Jake was going to be gone, and I’d come to a firm decision on it. Yes, I know, it didn’t happen that often, but Jake was more than worth it. When I thought about a life without him completely, it was more than I could even bear to think about.
“I say the end of May it is. Everyone always wants a spring wedding, right?”
“That’s what they say.”
“God, Jen is going to be so pregnant by then.”
“Oh geez, is she ever.”
“She did try on the cutest pregnant lady bridesmaid dress the other day though.”
He chuckled. “Awesome.”
“Okay, so I have to tell Mattie right away. Or my mother. Or….” I sighed.
“Still haven’t decided?”
I shook my head.
“Well, you might want to do that now that we know how soon it’s going to be.”
I ran my hands through my head. “Ugh, I know.”
“Come on,” he said, grabbing my hand and leading me down the hallway. “I know just the thing to get rid of all your stress.”
He closed the bedroom door behind us and proceeded to not just take away all my stress, but pretty much every thought in my head quite masterfully.
~ ~ ~
I thought a walk in the park might help clear my head. I had to do something about the whole Mattie and my Mom thing. I’d opened my email that morning to find a huge attachment of bridesmaid dress pictures. Of course they were all unbelievably gorgeous. I’d known instantly that Mom’s way was the way to go.
You know, until I peeked at a few of Mattie’s ideas again and began waffling yet again.
The crisp air did wonders for me, and I came to an amazing realization.
There was no way in hell I was going to be able to choose between them. Both of their visions were amazing. God, how could they be so different, and yet so absolutely perfect?
I flopped onto a bench and leaned my head into my hands, thoughts swirling a million miles a minute.
“Another rough day?” a voice said, after I’d been sitting a while.
Andrea waggled a Peppermint Mocha under my nose. “Maybe this will help.”
I looked up at her, the sun haloing around her face like she was supposed to be my guardian angel or something. Of course, she was still a tiny cog in the gossip machine that could so quickly ruin a life, but still… she seemed like a really nice cog.
“Oh crap, can you hold this?” she asked, handing me both cups. I sipped from the one she’d offered me and watched as she ran across an open area of the field to a kid who was looking around in a panic, screaming for his mother.
God, I hadn’t even heard it and Andrea was already to the rescue. Some excuse for a human I was. I mean, sure, it was Andrea’s job to watch, in a way, but still. Anyone in their right mind could hear a child screaming for Pete’s sake.
She took the kid by the hand and led him around to a few people in the park, checking to see if the kid knew them. I was actually starting to get a little worried that he’d been abandoned or something and started craning my neck for any sign of people looking for him.
Back at the street, a harried-looking woman pushing a baby stroller, complete with crying baby, crested over the hill. “Sean!” she screamed, tears shining on her face.
I jumped up from my bench, anxious to comfort the woman, and let her know her son was safe.
“He’s over here,” I yelled, as she was about to turn back. “Ma’am, there’s a lost little boy over here!”
She stopped and flung that stroller back around, looking a little dazed. The baby continued to cry, no doubt feeding off the bad vibe of the mother.
“My friend Andrea found him a minute ago.”
Andrea must have heard me call out to the mother because she was already on her way over with the boy. He broke free from Andrea’s hand and came bounding up, flinging himself into his mother’s arms.
“Seanie, you scared Mamma,” was all the lady said, over and over.
The poor kid looked like he might be in danger of suffocating, his mother was holding him so tight. Finally she leaned back and took Sean’s face in her hands. “Don’t you run off again. You scared Mamma.”
“I was scared too,” he said, his voice squeaky. “But the lady helped me find you.”
Finally the mother stood and shook Andrea’s hand. “Thank you so much,” she said. “And thank you for stopping me,” she said to me. “I was about to turn around again. I never would have found him.”
“You would have found him eventually,” Andrea said, smiling.
The mother nodded, tired but happy. “Thanks again.” She took Sean’s hand, gripping hard, and pushed the stroller one-handed back down the hill. It did not look like an easy task.
Andrea was still smiling when I turned around, cool as a cucumber, though the coffees were shaking a little in my hands.
“They’ll be fine,” Andrea said, as I handed her the cup she’d been drinking out of.
I nodded, sitting back down on the bench, grabbing my mocha with both hands and taking a long drink.
“A little drama to help take your mind off your troubles,” she said, twirling her arm and giving me a little bow, as if she’d planned the whole thing for my benefit.
I smiled. “How do you stay so calm?”
She shrugged. “The scary part is when the kid’s missing. We knew where the kid was. The mother couldn’t be too far away. The mother is never too far away.”
She had a point. I couldn’t imagine what it would have been like coming across that poor mother and not being able to help.
My heart slowed a little and the soothing chocolate in the mocha started to kick in. I consciously relaxed my shoulders and settled deeper into the bench.
“So, wedding troubles?” she asked. “I thought maybe there were Jake troubles last night when he had to buzz in, but since he still hasn’t come down, I’m guessing everything’s okay in that department?” She gave me a sly smile and raised her eyebrows a couple times.
“You know, there is something a little unsettling about knowing people are watching your every move.”
She nodded.
“And the way you just talk about my day-to-day events out in the open like that is slightly… strange.”
She shrugged. “Would you rather I pretend that I’m not watching you? That I don’t know who
comes and goes from your apartment and when?”
“That would also be a little creepy.”
She took a deep breath. “It is what it is, right? I mean, I know I’m out there and you know I’m out there, and I’m sorry that’s the way it has to be, but I’m a firm believer that it doesn’t have to be miserable, just because the situation is a little out of the ordinary.”
I smiled, shaking my head. “Better to get the elephant in the room right out in the open?”
“Exactly. Besides, do you have any idea how boring it gets over there with those guys? God, you can only listen to their fake lady conquests so many times before you just want to cut off your own ears.”
I looked over to the guy with the huge beer gut and the guy in the thick glasses, who probably chose to be a professional stalker after dabbling in the real thing. “Ew,” was all I could say, scrunching my nose.
“Yeah,” Andrea mouthed. “So, have you given any more thought to doing the tips?”
“Look Andrea, I really can’t help you out. I mean, I know what it’s like to have my entire life in the public eye and I can’t really be a part of doing that to other people.”
“I get it, I do,” she said, putting her hands up. “So… no good inside scoops on anyone. But…” I could tell she was having trouble figuring out a way to word what she was about to say. “How about an exclusive pre-wedding interview or something?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. I’ll have to check with Jake and everything.”
“Okay,” she said, looking out over the park. “How are the wedding plans coming anyway?”
I smiled. “We finally picked a date.”
“When?” she said, jumping on the little tidbit.
“I can’t tell you that,” I said, still smiling.
I had to admit, it was the tiniest thrill knowing something that no one else did.
“I’ve got my money on May,” she said.
My head whipped to her involuntarily, of course, totally giving it away. Cripes. I guess I knew what was going to be in the papers tomorrow. “Why do you think that?”
She shrugged. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. Half he papers are saying after the next New Zealand movie, but I don’t think there’s any way you guys are going to wait that long.
“Hmmm…” was all I said, hating that she knew more about my life than I did. “How do you know Jake’s schedule anyway?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“That online movie site. Anyone in the world can look it up. I mean, it’s not all confirmed info or anything, but it’s the photographer’s best friend when it comes to knowing where your targets are going to be.”
“Huh.” I decidedly did not like the way she called the people they were watching ‘targets,’ like they were the CIA or something, and we were just another bad guy.
“Um, thanks for the mocha,” I said, getting up.
“You figure out the problem you came out here to think about?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No, I guess I got distracted.”
CHAPTER 12
My cell rang on the way back to the apartment. I knew better than to have a conversation in front of the paparazzi, and even though Andrea was still in the park, the other two were still hanging around. I hurried inside, making sure the door was shut securely behind me before I answered.
“Miss McMaster?” a woman asked.
“Yes?” I asked, instantly suspicious.
“I’m sorry to bother you. My name is Carla. I got your number off your sister Rosie? She and I used to work together at the bookstore here in the city?”
“Oh sure, how are you?” I could not, for the life of me, figure out why this woman from my sister’s past would ever want my number.
She cleared her throat, obviously nervous. “It’s probably a little surprising that I’m calling you out of the blue, and I’m not sure if Rosie told you, but I’m a literary agent now.”
“Oh, congratulations,” I said, my mind still scrambling to piece this rather strange conversation together.
“Well agent’s assistant, actually, but I’ve just been given the go ahead to start taking on a few of my own clients.”
“Okaaaay,” I said, pushing open the door to the apartment.
She cleared her throat again. It was really quite sweet how nervous she was. I could picture her in her office, or perhaps cubicle, cheeks all rosy as she twisted the cord around and around her fingers, trying to stick to the script on the yellow legal pad in front of her. She took a deep breath. “And I would like for you to be the first client I take on.”
“Client?” I said, even more dumbfounded than before. “Um, doesn’t a person need to write a book to be a client of a literary agent?”
“Well, usually, yes. But,” she cleared her throat once more for good measure. “Well, Rosie let me in on the little secret that you’re no stranger to writing memoirs…”
“Are you serious? I am going to kill her. God, I told her that in confidence.”
“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” she assured me, though I couldn’t help but remember back to the people, including a former best friend, who had burned me before. “And the thing is… while we’d love to represent your memoirs, or perhaps an inside look into your upcoming nuptials—honestly, with your life, the possibilities are endless—what I really feel is your most marketable asset right now is your journal.”
“What do you mean?”
“I would like to shop The Disaster Diary to publishers.”
I had absolutely no friggin’ clue what to say. “The Disaster Diary?”
“Absolutely,” she said, her voice gaining confidence. “We already know it’s a winner, based on the reaction to the newspaper article. You know, the one who secretly published your leaked entries?”
“Oh, I remember,” I said, thinking back to that first day when it felt like the whole world was watching my every move. Which, if you count anyone who even had a glance at a paper or an entertainment broadcast, it pretty much was.
“What I propose is to set it up to look exactly like a journal should, of course it will be up to the publisher that buys it how they want to present it, but I’m picturing a leather-bound book with a lock on it, just like a real diary. It would likely be catalogued in the memoir section of the bookstore, which would be ideal since it’s such a great gateway to a possible next memoir.” She talked faster now, her speech more animated.
“Memoir?” I asked, not having the first clue what on Earth she thought I, of all people, would write a memoir about.
“Yes, you’ve already got such a rich background, a sort of rags to riches fairy tale life. And like I said, another wonderful opportunity is the wedding. Heck, it wouldn’t even be that much work for you if you so choose, we can really showcase your wedding planner here, have them do much of the set up, talk about the planning and the budget. All the small details.”
I imagined her pulse beating about a thousand beats a minute.
“Um, I wasn’t really looking for a literary agent.”
“I know, but you really must give it some thought. It’s an opportunity that won’t be around forever. I mean, I know money isn’t really an issue for you now that you’ll be living in the lap of luxury, but it would certainly be a significant sum to have around for… whatever. Something that’s all your own.”
I did not like the way she implied that I might need my own money someday. Of course, I didn’t like it any better that she thought I was just going to loaf off of Jake for the rest of my life.
Or maybe I was just too sensitive over the whole thing because I’d been thinking about it so much lately.
“I really don’t think I’m interested,” I said. “I mean, things are so busy right now with the wedding…”
“Which is exactly why this is the best time to jump on it. Think about it,” she said. “The diary is obviously already written, right? So there’s really very little work to do there. You could have a contract by the end of this
month. An advance in your account shortly after. Things would practically take care of themselves.”
“Uh huh,” I said, still skeptical. I mean, if this girl hadn’t been a friend of my sister’s I would have probably hung up on her a long time ago. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess I’ll have to think about it.”
“Great!” she said, as if I’d already agreed to something. “I’m going to email over some projections on what we might be able to expect as far as an advance goes, along with some information on how advances work, some possible marketing strategies, that sort of thing. And again, Josie, don’t stress over it too much, the work is already done. It’s just a matter of putting the wheels in motion. Oh, and uh, you do have an electronic version of the diary, right? I mean, if you don’t I guess we can have someone here type it up or something.”
“Um, yeah, sort of,” I said, having only half finished typing it up in Bali.
I don’t even know why I started. The journal was just starting to get a little worn. I mean, it had certainly been through some tears and trauma.
“This is so wonderful Josie. And again, I can’t stress what a great opportunity this is for you. It is rather time sensitive though. It would be ideal if it could be rushed through and released around the same time as your wedding. And believe me, that is not normally the case, a book usually takes much longer, but in certain instances, like with celebrities, publishers will fast-track if there’s a good reason. And I’d say a wedding is definitely a very good reason.”
“Um, yeah. Okay,” I said. “I’ll check out your email, I guess.”
“Thanks so much for talking to me Josie, I just know this is the beginning of an amazing professional relationship, and for you, an amazing writing career. Well, continuation of one, really.” She giggled conspiratorially.
Thanks to Rosie, she was in on the secret about me ghostwriting the Prince’s memoir, but still, I wasn’t really all that comfortable with her turning it into an inside joke.
I hung up the phone a little shell-shocked.
“What the heck was that?” Jake asked.
