Kate felt herself getting hot.
“Even though you know that your contract specifically prohibits you from taking on additional work without getting approval from your manager? AKA me.”
“When I say involved, all I mean is that I’ve been approached,” Kate said quickly. “I haven’t done anything yet. It was Carole Jacobs. You know the woman who was trying to get hold of me? She’s one of the trustees and wanted me to help do it up a bit. …”
She looked at Magda hopefully, but Magda’s frown was now furrowing into her brow. “You contacted a former victim? When I specifically told you not to? This just gets better and better, Kate. And here I was thinking that Penny must have got the wrong end of the stick.”
Kate stared at her. “Penny?” Suddenly this was making a bit more sense.
Magda sighed. “You know Penny wants you out, don’t you? Thinks she can do the interiors herself. Probably looking to launch her own furniture line or something.”
“Magda, you can’t,” Kate said indignantly, wide-eyed. “I’ve been on this show since day one. I’m here every day, every week….”
Magda looked at her. “What choice do I have?” she asked. “You break your contract. You approach other companies. And Penny, who is this show’s only bloody selling point, is demanding that I fire you. Can you see any alternative option?”
“But I didn’t approach anyone!”
“Penny heard you discussing it. Whether or not you’ve actually made the phone call is neither here nor there.”
Kate swallowed. She suddenly felt very hot and very uncomfortable. “But… but what will I do?” she asked.
“That,” Magda said, “isn’t really my business anymore, is it? That’s a question you should have thought about before. You’ll be paid up till the end of the month, Kate, but I’m afraid we won’t be needing you on set. You understand, don’t you?”
“I …” Kate started to say, but left it hanging. Her legs were trembling and she felt as if the room was closing in on her. She was being fired. She’d never been fired. It didn’t feel real.
Magda pursed her lips. “Right, then,” she said. “I’ll tell Penny.”
She walked past Kate and opened the door. Then she turned around.
“So which company did you approach?” she asked. “You may as well tell me now—I’ll find out soon enough anyway.”
“I didn’t,” Kate said pleadingly. “I haven’t approached anyone.”
Magda shook her head. “Have it your way then.” She left, closing the door behind her.
Kate made her way to Mr. Jones’s large armchair and sat down, leaning over and cradling her head in her hands. She sat there for a few minutes, maybe longer—she wasn’t sure. Then the door opened.
“You alright?” Phil ventured, coming over and hovering a few inches away. “I thought you might want a cup of tea.”
He pressed a mug of hot, milky tea into her hands, and she took it gratefully. “I’ve been fired,” she whispered, hardly daring to say it because it might make her situation more real.
“Fired?” Phil asked. “What do you mean, fired?”
“I mean, Magda’s sacked me. For breaking my contract. Penny told her I’d been approaching the competition with ideas.”
“And have you?”
“No,” Kate said miserably. “Gareth told me to—there’s this hospice that I was hoping to refurbish. Thought it might make good telly. And Penny overheard and used it to make Magda fire me. Apparently she wants to do interiors now.”
Phil laughed, then stopped short when he saw that Kate couldn’t even manage a smile. “So what are we going to do, then?” he asked.
Kate looked at him curiously. “We?”
“I’m not hanging around here and working for Penny,” he said matter-of-factly
“But you haven’t been fired,” Kate said. “Don’t leave on my account.”
Phil rolled his eyes. “I’m not. I’m leaving on my account. If that woman thinks she’s going to be able to boss me around, she’s got another thing coming. Anyway, I’ll be getting my pension through in another six months. It’s you I’m worried about.”
Kate smiled at him. “Thanks, Phil. But, look, I’ll be fine. I just need to think, you know, about what to do next.”
“Sounds like you want to make over this hospice,” Phil said. “So contact those companies you’re meant to have contacted already.”
Kate sighed. “Yeah,” she said. “Maybe.”
“Or,” Phil said, more gently, “you could go home, forget all about it, have a nice bath and get that boyfriend of yours round to cheer you up.”
Kate grinned. “Now that sounds like a plan. Thanks, Phil.”
“No problem. I’ve just got one question,” Phil said.
“What?”
“You’re fired, right? And I don’t have a contract, so I’m free to walk away whenever I want?”
Kate shrugged. “I guess so.”
“So there’s not much point me leaving my ladders and the paint that I was going to finish off tomorrow, is there?”
“I … guess not.”
“And if I just get word out, you know, casually, in the pub, that this isn’t a job any builder in London would want to take, there wouldn’t be any harm in that, would there?”
Kate’s eyes widened.
“And,” Phil continued, his face lit with mischief, “it won’t take Penny that long to work out which color paint she needs to finish the wall off, will it? Seeing as how there’s about a thousand different colors to choose from? I’m sure she’ll be able to work it out in time for filming tomorrow afternoon. …”
Kate found a little smile inching its way onto her face.
“You really think she’ll manage?” she asked innocently.
“She’s an interiors guru,” Phil said, deadpan. “I’m sure it won’t take her any time at all.”
21
Joe frowned; things were not going according to plan. Not that he’d exactly had a plan, but his LA agent had assured him that coming to London would be great for his career. Said it was either London or Tokyo—Tokyo would mean money London would mean credibility. What he couldn’t do was hang around in LA for much longer because it was getting hard for his agent to convince producers that Joe was in demand when they could see him waiting tables or hanging out, restless, in the various bars along Sunset Boulevard.
And now he was still waiting tables, only the rent was more expensive, the tips were smaller, and the weather sucked. Kate might be cute, but she’d proved to be useless in terms of hooking him up with important television executives, which was what he’d hoped for when he’d first asked her out, and that awful cream cheese ad, his only professional job in the two months he’d been in London, hadn’t even aired. For some reason they kept delaying the launch of the campaign, which meant that, apart from a slightly healthier bank balance, he had nothing to show for it.
Frankly, it sucked. It sucked big time.
He looked around the cramped studio apartment that was his current home, and sighed. Then he dug out his phone and pressed redial.
“Bob?”
“Ah, Joe. How’re things?”
“You know how things are. I was hoping you might have some news. Some work. Something.”
Bob sighed. “Joe, we’re working on it. Just give it a bit more time, okay? There’s an audition coming up next week that I’m hoping to get you into. A comedy. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”
“I just feel like I’m always calling you, you know?”
There was a pause that suggested Bob agreed with this sentiment and wasn’t exactly wild about it.
“Joe, we’re working really hard for you here. I give you my word.”
Joe nodded silently.
“Okay, then,” Bob said, sounding relieved. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Wait,” Joe said. “Listen, Bob, if I… hooked up with someone famous, would that… would it make a difference?”
“Sort of famous. If I was in celebrity magazines, I mean. That kind of thing.”
“That could definitely help,” Bob said, sounding much more interested. “You mean a model or an actress?”
Joe bit his lip. “Does the name Penny Pennington mean anything to you?”
“Penny Pennington?” Bob seemed surprised. “I thought you said you hated her.”
“Bob, this is my career we’re talking about. I do what I have to do. You gotta have focus, you know?”
“Right, of course,” Bob said. “Well, she certainly knows the publicity game.”
“Yeah.” Joe frowned. “That’s what I figured.”
“Joe, it’s definitely worth a shot, if you’re up for it. I mean, all publicity is good publicity. You know that, right? People recognize you, it’s easier to get you parts. Simple as that.”
Joe nodded. “Okay, thanks, Bob.”
“You’ll keep me posted?”
“Sure.”
No sooner had he hung up on Bob than his phone rang again. He frowned and picked up.
“Joe?”
“Kate. How’s my favorite girl?” he asked, smiling easily and immediately putting all thoughts of Penny out of his mind. After all, he hadn’t made any decisions. No reason to rock the boat. She was a sweet girl, and she hung on his every word, which was quite nice, if sometimes a little annoying. There was no need to burn any bridges until he absolutely had to.
“Awful. Well, pretty rubbish. Are you free tonight? I was hoping you might be able to come over.”
Joe frowned. “Tonight?” He paused, about to make an excuse, then smiled. Now was not the time to say he was tied up. “Sure I am. What’s up?”
Kate sighed. “What isn’t up? I lost my job today. I’m still in slight shock, actually.”
Joe’s eyes widened. So Penny had been right. Well, that made his decision a little bit easier. “You … you lost your job?” he asked, trying to sound sympathetic, but already planning his escape route. “Why? How?”
“Don’t ask,” Kate said, her voice tense. “I’ll give you the full story later. So, you realize you’re going to have to get an Oscar-winning part now so you can support me, don’t you?”
Her voice suggested she was joking, but it didn’t stop little beads of sweat from appearing on Joe’s forehead. “You’ll walk right into another job,” he said. “No problem.”
“Maybe.” Kate sighed. “Or maybe I’ll take a bit of a break. You know that hospice I told you about?”
“Hospice?” Joe was distracted, his mind racing. She wanted to take a break? Why?
“Yeah, the one I went to a week ago? I’m still thinking about trying to help them, I just don’t know how.”
“Great,” Joe said unenthusiastically. “So there you go, then. Listen, honey, I gotta go—got a call coming through. Could be work.”
“Okay. But I’ll see you later? Sevenish?”
“Sure. I mean, hopefully.”
“Hopefully?”
“I’ve got some loose ends to tie up, that’s all. Yeah, I’ll see you later.”
“Thanks, Joe.”
Joe hung up and took a deep breath. She sounded dreadful. Like she really needed a shoulder to cry on. Poor Kate.
And yet, was it really a good idea to get involved? He’d start by comforting her, and the next thing he’d be supporting her, just like Penny said. Right now, he needed to be focused. In control. A free agent, whose number one priority was his career.
He reached hesitantly into his pocket and pulled out the pink card Penny had given him. Maybe just one drink. He could always see Kate later. It was really no big deal.
Slowly, he picked up his phone again and dialed Penny’s number.
Beauty Care
The hopeless romantic knows that beauty is only skin deep and that true love is based on so much more than the clearness of our skin or the shape of our calves. Nevertheless, she also knows that in looking after herself she is showing that she holds herself in high esteem and wishes to please the man she loves. And every woman feels better when her nails are manicured, her hair coiffed, and her figure trim.
The hopeless romantic also knows that whilst following fashion is easy, being constantly, casually, and naturally chic is so much more attractive and so much more difficult. Simple, unfussy hair that looks natural and is soft to the touch will appeal to a man far more than hair that is set and rigid. Skin that is fresh-looking and blemish-free is so much prettier than skin that is caked in powder
And so, the hopeless romantic knows that investment is everything. The hopeless romantic eats well—eggs, fish, and wheat germ for shiny hair and clear skin—and takes the stairs to maintain firm legs. She avoids shabby heels by using hand cream on them daily, and keeps her legs eggshell-smooth with a razor or wax treatment. The hopeless romantic never knows when she may be swept off her feet, so dressing beautifully only for important occasions is simply not an option; she must be radiant at all times.
This applies just as much when we are down at heel or sad. For, although it is tempting to match our mood with drab, dull colors and little or no makeup, this will never do. How will our broken hearts be mended if we wear our sadness on our sleeves? How will we find sunshine if we are dressed for rain?
Indeed, focusing on one’s beauty when one is feeling lonely or saddened by something can truly lift the spirits. A splash of perfume, a hint of lipstick, and a little smudge of gray pencil along the upper eyelid can transform not only your look, but your entire mood, and the moods of those around you, including your beau or prospective beau! Cheer yourself up and fix a smile upon your face; say to the world that you expect great things from it, and you will soon not remember why on earth you were feeling so blue in the first place.
Kate blinked onto the mascara wand and stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. There was no getting away from it—Elizabeth Stallwood knew what she was talking about. An hour ago, she’d felt dreadful. Sick to the stomach with anxiety, mad as hell with Penny, and utterly bereft.
Now she felt like none of it really mattered. Not for the time being, anyway. Her face was made up, her hair freshly washed and blow-dried, and her nails sported a lovely pale pink varnish that she’d bought months ago and never got round to wearing because her nails always got trashed on set. Now she didn’t have to worry about that. Good-bye career, hello grooming.
Kate took a look at her watch: seven thirty P.M. Any minute now, Joe would arrive and would sweep her up in his strong arms. And then maybe they’d talk, or maybe they’d make passionate love, or maybe he’d insist on taking her out somewhere to take her mind off things. She didn’t mind which; she was just grateful she had him. It wasn’t as if she had much else at the moment, after all—her friends seemed intent on shouting at each other and trading insults, and her job … well, the less said about that, the better.
Satisfying herself that her eyelashes were clump-free, Kate wandered into the kitchen to wait for her beau.
“This is a funny sort of local,” Lucy said, grinning. “What is it, a West London thing? You can’t just go to the pub like the rest of us?”
Tom reddened slightly. “You can eat here, too,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, if you’ve got ten pounds to spend on a plate of chips. Look, thanks for this. I really appreciate it. And for letting me stay with you. You know, I think this might be the start of something special. If my plan works, that is!”
Tom shook his head. “It’s no problem. And this way I’m not drinking alone, so you’re helping us both out.”
“I suppose,” Lucy said, her eyes twinkling. “And, after all, you never did buy me dinner. That’s the least a girl expects these days. I suppose someone’s got to spend that doctor’s salary of yours, haven’t they?”
“So, enjoying your fish?” Tom asked.
Lucy nodded. “It’s lovely. And the wine, too. Quite a treat.”
Tom smiled, but then his eyes caugh
t sight of something and his brow furrowed.
It couldn’t be. It looked like it, but he must have got it wrong.
“What is it?” Lucy demanded, swiveling round on her chair. Then she turned back again, her eyes dancing in delight. “It’s that woman, isn’t it? Penny something. Bloody hell, so you get celebrities down your local. I’m pressed, Dr. Whitson.”
She swiveled round again. “Ooh, and look at her date—he’s nice and all, isn’t he? I wouldn’t mind a bit of him. …” She swung her head round and winked at Tom. “Not that you’re not lovely, but jeez Louise. Must be at least ten years younger than her, too. Lucky cow. D’you think she’s rich? Tom? Dr. Whitson? Are you okay?”
Tom stared over at the other table, feeling more and more agitated. It was him. It was Joe. And he looked very cozy with that woman whom Kate hated. Horrible-looking specimen.
Still, there would be an explanation. Of course there would.
Tom swallowed, forcing back the urge to walk over and punch Joe. He didn’t even know why he wanted to punch him. “Lucy, I’m just going to make a quick call, if that’s okay. Do you mind?”
Lucy shook her head. “‘Course not.”
Tom nodded and wandered over to the bar. Then he maneuvered himself so that he was near Joe and Penny’s table.
“Now, I spoke to my agent,” he heard her say in a harsh, nasal voice. “If you were better known, we’d want to deny our involvement for a few weeks, to get everyone’s attention. But since you’re not…” Penny raised her eyebrow at Joe. “… we need to go for maximum impact instead. I’ve tipped off a couple of photographers so they’ll snap us leaving in a couple of hours. And then I’ll start doing interviews about my newfound love.”
“We’ll start doing interviews, you mean.”
Penny smiled. “Of course. Silly me.”
Tom blanched and made his way outside.
Once on the pavement, he took out his phone and dialed Kate’s number.
“Joe?” she said immediately on picking up. “Is that you?”
She sounded so hopeful. So excited. Tom bit his lip. “No, Kate, it’s me.”
The Hopeless Romantic's Handbook Page 15
