Chasing Dreams

by Susan Lewis

  Chapter 5

  ‘HEY! ELLEN! HOW’RE you doing? Where are you?’

  ‘Hi, Joey.’ Ellen laughed, switching the carphone on to the speaker. ‘I’m in the car on my way to a new life. Want to come?’

  ‘OK, you talked me into it,’ he replied. ‘But if I do, you got to do this commercial.’

  Ellen laughed again. ‘No way, Joey,’ she said, spinning the wheel hard left as she pulled out of Riverside on to Laurel Canyon.

  ‘Ellen, you’re breaking my heart,’ he warned. ‘I got it all set up. I showed the client your picture, the guy’s ready to roll. You’re the face of America, Ellen. You’re beautiful. You got it all!’

  ‘Who is this guy?’ Matty murmured, her eyes simmering with laughter as she sat in the passenger seat, listening.

  ‘Joey Mancini,’ Ellen answered. ‘He’s in advertising. Come to the point, Joey,’ she said into the speaker.

  ‘Hang on, someone’s coming through on my other line,’ he said. ‘Don’t go away.’

  Matty leaned forward to centre the cool air on her face. ‘What’s the commercial?’ she asked as Ellen slowed up for a red light.

  ‘There is no commercial,’ Ellen chuckled. ‘This is just something we go through before he gets to the real reason for calling. Which, unless I’m greatly mistaken, will be to try to get me to lean on Hal Gates for some home-loan commercial that Hal Gates doesn’t want to do. So, we’ll just waste each other’s time for a while, then Joey’ll go back to his client who’ll probably come up with even more money for Hal Gates to turn down.’

  Joey’s voice came back over the speaker. ‘Ellen! I love you,’ he called.

  Matty gurgled with laughter, then, leaning back into a comfy corner and putting her feet up on the dash, she listened as Ellen took the call which went pretty much the way Ellen had predicted. It took a while, though, and Matty couldn’t help but be impressed at the way Ellen handled herself. Of course, she’d had a lot of practice by now, and plenty had been written about her unique mix of charm and ruthlessness, but it wasn’t too often that Matty got to see her in action, and she had to confess that each time she did, her respect and admiration just grew. No one would ever know that beneath all that wit, beauty and confidence she had as many insecurities and vulnerabilities as any other woman on earth. In fact, there were times when even Matty wondered if they existed, Ellen was so good at hiding them.

  As Ellen punched out a number to make another call, Matty rested her head on the chair back and studied her profile. With her coppery chestnut hair that was so thick and curly and cut bluntly around the collar, her rich, creamy skin, soft brown eyes and gorgeously full mouth, she was probably the most sensuously feminine woman Matty knew. What was more, everything about her was real, from the full, pert breasts to the slender curves of her hips and thighs, even the flat stomach and tastefully manicured fingernails.

  ‘Did I hear you mention Ted Forgon just then?’ Matty said as Ellen finished her call.

  Ellen nodded.

  ‘So how is he now?’ Matty asked. ‘When did he get out of the hospital?’

  ‘A couple of weeks back,’ Ellen answered. ‘He’s been recuperating with his sister in Florida.’ She glanced quickly in the rear-view mirror, then slipped into the middle lane to avoid a line waiting to join the Freeway. ‘Well done, Gene,’ she murmured as Matty’s boyfriend kept close on her tail in the jeep behind. As he was transporting most of her worldly possessions over to her new apartment, Ellen was particularly concerned he should keep up, especially as he had a tendency to forget where he was going.

  ‘I didn’t know Ted Forgon had a sister,’ Matty said. Then, after a pause, ‘It seems an age since he had that coronary. How long ago was it?’

  ‘Three months,’ Ellen answered. ‘Did I tell you he fired the secretary he was screwing at the time?’

  Matty laughed. ‘Get out of here,’ she said. ‘Is she suing?’

  ‘Not that I’ve heard,’ Ellen replied. ‘But Carleena, the secretary he fired a few years back, is still on his case, or so the rumour mill has it. I heard he already paid her fifty thousand bucks, some say it was five hundred thousand, but you know how these things get exaggerated.’

  ‘I take it he was screwing her too?’

  ‘Of course. It’s what a secretary’s for,’ Ellen responded with a droll glance.

  ‘So, are they saying he can return to a normal life now?’

  ‘I’ve got no idea,’ Ellen replied. ‘All I know is he’s flying back to LA tomorrow and wants to see me first thing Monday. Just like these last three months didn’t happen.’

  Matty unfolded the visor and studied her reflection in the mirror. Her long, shiny dark hair needed a wash, her attractive, olive-skinned face was pale and her usually vivid dark eyes were shadowed with tiredness. ‘God, I look a mess,’ she grumbled. ‘Did I wake you when I came in this morning?’

  ‘Didn’t hear a thing,’ Ellen replied. ‘What time was it?’

  ‘After three. I can’t go on like this, it’s killing me. What am I saying, tonight’s my last night at the club, so as from tomorrow it’ll just be the trusty old coffee bar.’ She sucked in her cheeks, then let them go with a pop. ‘So, when did you find out Forgon wanted to see you?’

  ‘Julie, his secretary, told me on Tuesday. She also had a file delivered to my office so’s I could get some background on the British guy I told you about. So that about confirms my worst fears, wouldn’t you say? I’ve got to go headhunt Michael McCann, only in this case the meaning’s more literal, because it’s McCann’s head on plate that Forgon’s after. There’s a supermarket up ahead,’ she said, pointing. ‘Let’s go pick up some groceries to take over to the apartment.’

  ‘Do you have a refrigerator?’ Matty asked, as Ellen pulled into the parking lot.

  Ellen laughed. ‘Sure I have a refrigerator,’ she answered. ‘I told you, I had everything delivered on Thursday, so the place is pretty much in shape already.’

  ‘Has Clay seen it?’

  ‘Not yet. He’s coming over tomorrow night when he gets back from San Diego.’

  ‘San Diego?’ Matty echoed. ‘What’s he doing there?’

  ‘The kids are staying with Nola’s mother,’ Ellen answered, checking to make sure Gene was still with them.

  ‘What news on the divorce?’ Matty asked. ‘Any idea yet when it’s going to happen?’

  Ellen shook her head. ‘Nola’s really dragging things out,’ she answered, pulling up to wait for someone to vacate a space. ‘It’s really starting to get to him,’ she said, gazing absently ahead. ‘He doesn’t care so much for himself, it’s what it’s doing to his kids that upsets him. He’s crazy about them and Nola just doesn’t seem to care what she’s doing – to any of them.’

  Matty sighed. ‘You know what gets me,’ she said, ‘is what the hell the woman’s got to be so bitter about? I mean, she was the one who had the affair, she was the one who wanted out of the marriage and she’s the god-damned superbitch who’s dishing all that garbage out to the press about him being some kind of drunk and wife-beater and God knows what else. So what does she want, for Christ’s sake?’

  Ellen was shaking her head. ‘Believe me, if he knew he’d give it to her. Anything, just to get this mess over with,’ and putting her foot down hard she swung her gleaming white Pontiac into the empty space.

  An hour later, after stocking up on everything from Windex to whisky, they returned to their cars and rejoined the traffic crawling up to Mulholland. It was an unseasonably hot day for January, even by California standards, and the Santa Ana winds which had torn through the night had cleared the sky of cloud and smog, leaving it a perfect, crystalline blue.

  Matty rested an arm on the edge of the door and gazed up at the wooded hills ahead. ‘I’m going to miss you,’ she said.

  ‘I’m going to miss you too,’ Ellen said, pulling out around a mail truck, and smiling at Gene in the rear-view mirror as he came up behind her. ‘It’s really good of him to giv
e up his Saturday like this,’ she commented.

  Matty looked bemused, then realizing who Ellen was talking about gave a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘You know Gene,’ she said, ‘he was happy to help. Did he tell you he did an audition yesterday for the new Scorsese movie?’

  Ellen nodded. ‘The bystanding body-builder with a heart. I read the script. He should be good for it.’

  Matty chuckled and adjusted the visor mirror so she could see him. ‘I swear he’s not just brawn,’ she said. ‘He’s got brains too, it’s just with a body like that he doesn’t get much call to use them.’

  The look Ellen threw her caused her eyes to dance.

  ‘Hey listen, you didn’t get back to me about the ex-con’s script I gave you,’ Matty said. ‘Did you get chance to read it?’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ Ellen answered. She threw Matty a glance. ‘My honest opinion?’

  Matty deflated. ‘It stinks,’ she said.

  Ellen laughed. ‘It’s got no focus,’ she said. ‘The characters aren’t defined and the story’s just not there. You need to work on why he got involved with the other guys, where his motivation is. Take a look at his mother, his father, his kids, if he’s got any. They’ll tell you everything you need to know about him.’

  ‘But his mother’s not in the movie,’ Matty protested.

  ‘Whether you cast her or not, a mother’s always in a movie,’ Ellen told her. ‘Did you see Looking Up yet?’ she asked, nodding towards the five-screen cinema on the corner of Crescent and Sunset as they drove by.

  ‘No. Should I?’

  ‘If you want to see a good structure, then yes,’ Ellen answered. ‘It’s not the best movie you’ll ever see, but the characters are solid and the story is sound. How did you come across this ex-con guy, anyhow?’

  ‘He’s someone Gene met at voice class,’ Matty answered. ‘He reckons he’s got a lot of interest in his story, he just needs some help with the dialogue.’

  ‘So you and Gene offered? If you want my advice you’ll tell him to find some other suckers to share his load, because getting involved in someone else’s grudge against the government, which is what that script’s really about, is never a good idea. And if he’s got the kind of interest he says, why is he asking two actors to help him out, instead of two writers?’

  Matty looked at Ellen, waited for Ellen to flash her a grin, which she did, then turned to look straight ahead. ‘You didn’t have to call me a sucker,’ she grumbled.

  Ellen laughed. ‘OK, I take it back. But you get what I’m saying. The story’s no good. It’s not going to work and if you’re asking me, you’re crazy to get involved.’

  Matty started to reply, then thought better of it. When it came to knowing what would and wouldn’t work on the screen Ellen had a natural born instinct, which was how come she was one of the top agents at ATI with more big names on her list than was decent. God only knew how much she had made for the agency in the two years she’d been there, but whatever it was, more than half a dozen wannabes, who’d been waiting tables and tele-marketing two years ago, had her to thank for their sudden rise to international stardom and millionaires’ row. There were also the dozen or so box-office big shots who’d debunked from other agencies to sign up with ATI once word started getting out that was where destiny’s darling, in the guise of Ellen Shelby, was currently to be found. Everyone wanted to be on the bandwagon, even Forgon had put some of his bigger clients with Ellen when she’d started getting so many movie and TV packages off the ground. So, in Matty’s book, Ellen was in a better position than most to give a judgement on this ex-con’s story.

  ‘They’re throwing a party at the club when I get off tonight.’ She yawned as Ellen’s carphone rang again. ‘Are you going to come?’

  ‘It’ll be too late for me,’ Ellen answered, putting the call on the speaker. ‘Hi, Ellen Shelby speaking,’ she said.

  By the time she got off the line they were crossing the city limits into Beverly Hills and Matty was wincing. ‘Tell me that’s not where I’m headed,’ she implored, referring to Rita Norman, the old-timer actress who had just been begging Ellen not to let her career disappear down the can.

  ‘If you keep off the booze, I’ll guarantee it,’ Ellen told her.

  ‘It was the booze that ruined her?’ Matty said, gazing out at the tree-lined avenues and million-dollar homes they were passing.

  ‘Drink, divorce and crooked lawyers,’ Ellen expanded.

  Matty turned to look at her. ‘You know, I remember her from when I was a kid,’ she said, sounding and even feeling slightly offended that one of her most cherished icons had proved so depressingly mortal. ‘To tell you the truth, I thought she was dead. So how come you’re her agent?’

  Ellen’s smile was sardonic. ‘I inherited her from Phil and Flynn. She never works, she’s not capable of it, but she needs to speak to someone from time to time and having an agent to call at least gives her some dignity.’

  ‘God,’ Matty murmured, ‘makes you wonder what those who don’t have agents do, doesn’t it?’

  ‘They call radio shows,’ Ellen responded.

  Matty laughed. Then, remembering something she had read only recently about Ellen she said, ‘So you really are the Hollywood Oxymoron?’

  ‘What?’ Ellen said, screwing up her nose.

  ‘A decent agent?’

  Ellen laughed. ‘Don’t believe everything you read,’ she advised and turned into a neat, sloping courtyard that fronted two gleaming white villas. Running between the villas was a gated driveway where she pulled up to speak to a security guard.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, as he strolled out of his booth. ‘I’m Ellen Shelby. Apartment fifteen. I’m moving in today.’

  ‘Shelby. Apartment fifteen,’ the guard repeated, squinting against the bright sunlight as he checked the clipboard he was holding. ‘You got some ID?’

  Ellen’s driver’s licence was already in her hand.

  ‘OK,’ he said, ticking off her name. ‘You’re the second floor, right? I’ll have a couple of guys come over to help you up the stairs.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Ellen said, preparing to drive on. ‘The guy behind’s with me, by the way.’

  The guard gave her the thumbs up and Ellen accelerated the car forward into a horseshoe-shaped inner courtyard where decorative fountains and a couple of Japanese-style gazebos were glistening brilliantly in the mid-winter sun. The two-storey complex of apartments with its simple, moorish-style arches, white-washed walls and occasional green-and-white-striped awning, lined the outer edge of the drive which dipped at the apex to the underground parking and because of the fountains either side gave the impression of sinking into a waterfall.

  ‘You’re kidding me,’ Matty murmured as Ellen pointed out which apartments and duplexes certain movie stars or industry moguls occupied. ‘How much is this costing you?’

  ‘Four grand a month,’ Ellen answered.

  ‘I think I’m going to faint,’ Matty responded as they descended into the parking lot.

  With the help of the two porters, though slightly impeded by Ellen’s non-stop phone calls, they finally unloaded both cars and opened up the apartment. The huge french windows, leading on to a veranda that ran the entire width of the apartment and overlooked the pool and tennis courts on the south side of the complex, were doubly secured by electronic blinds, and as Ellen pushed a button to remove them a flood of sunlight spilled across the ivory carpets and deep, creamy white sofas.

  ‘Will you get a load of this!’ Matty cried, when she saw the expensive drapes and furnishings. ‘Where did you get all this stuff? It’s so classy.’

  ‘Great, isn’t it?’ Ellen answered, walking round the split-level counter top that divided the kitchen from the living-room. ‘I bought most of it from the woman who lived here before. As you can see, she hardly ever used the place, so most of what’s here is still brand-new. I think she got it from that store on Robertson, you know, where they do all the custom-made furniture. The one on the corne
r of Melrose.’

  ‘I know it,’ Matty nodded, going out on to the veranda and weaving through the expensive white cane furniture with its Mediterranean-blue seat pads and stylish parasol. To her left were a set of double sliding windows leading into the master bedroom; to her right were the arched doorway and curved windows that opened into the study and TV room. Ferns and yuccas were planted in large, hand-decorated pots and a crimson and pink bougainvillaea was twisting around the railing.

  Ellen rushed to help as Gene came struggling in the door, a suitcase in each hand, a boxed mirror under one arm and a silk amaryllis under the other. ‘Here, let me take that,’ she said, easing the mirror carefully out of his grip.

  Considering his size, he was surprisingly unclumsy, in fact, with his bulging muscles, tight little T-shirt and snug-fit denims, Ellen had no problem seeing his appeal, especially as he had a genuinely kind nature and virtually unshakeable good humour. It was just a shame he had such limited talent as an actor, for she’d love to sign him to ATI and do what she could to get him work. But there was only so much nepotism the agency would allow and having Matty on her books was probably considered the line. Fortunately, though, Matty had talent so Ellen never felt there was any justifying to be done there, she was just waiting for the right one to come along and Matty would be on her way.

  ‘Where do you want this?’ he asked Ellen, who was now retrieving the amaryllis. His tanned, clean-cut features were flushed with exertion, but his cheerful smile was still intact.

  ‘Through there,’ she answered, pointing to a door opposite the kitchen. ‘That’s the dressing-room,’ she said as he pushed the door open. ‘The bathroom’s down the steps to the right, the bedroom’s straight ahead. Leave the suitcases just there. Anyone for champagne?’ she shouted, so Matty could hear too.

  ‘Sounds good,’ Gene answered, rubbing his hands together as he came out of the dressing-room. ‘This is a hell of a place you got here, Ellen,’ he commented, passing the fully equipped kitchen with its central island for cooking and handmade units with antique brass handles and Italian marble surfaces.