by Susan Lewis
A few short miles across London, Ellen was sitting at her hotel room window, gazing down at the shadowy emptiness of Hyde Park. She’d just returned from an enjoyable dinner with one of Rosa’s friends, but now, sitting here alone, she was feeling sad and worried, and extremely frustrated with Michael McCann. Were it not for him and the way he and his secretary were blocking her, there was every chance she’d be falling freely and happily in love with London, but his refusal to see her, or even speak to her on the phone, was starting to feel like a personal rejection and after what she had just been through with Clay, that was something she really didn’t need.
The problem was, short of throwing herself in front of his car or riding up to his office in a window cleaner’s cradle, she just couldn’t think how to get to him. Both Rosa’s and Forgon’s contacts had tried to set things up, but so far nothing had worked. And she felt god-dammed furious with McCann, for he could at least pay her the courtesy of hearing her out, even if he did already know what she was going to say. She had never come across anyone so blatantly unresponsive and were it not for the fact that she had so much hanging on this personally, she would quite happily have left town never having met him. Well maybe not happily, for the craziest part of it was that having read so much about him, she actually wanted to meet him. But she was going to have to get her act together soon, or Forgon would start getting impatient and though in her heart of hearts she didn’t believe he’d go to print with those photographs, she definitely didn’t want to try calling his bluff, any more than she wanted to return to LA with the embarrassment of never having made contact with Michael McCann.
Chapter 11
ZELDA WHOOPED WITH laughter, bringing most eyes in the restaurant to their table. Michael, Craig and Sandy were laughing too, as Stephen ‘Slim’ Sutton, the celebrated British author, paused in his hilarious story about searching for an agent in LA.
‘I don’t believe it!’ Zelda gasped, grabbing a napkin to wipe her eyes.
‘I swear it,’ Sutton promised, his round, polished face beaming with mischief as he downed another brandy. ‘This guy was actually dressed as a cowboy. Hat, boots, spurs, the works. But you’ve got to remember we’re talking Hollywood here, where everyone dresses the part. And we all know agents are cowboys so I don’t know why I was so surprised. Anyway, I walk into his office, take one look at him and say to myself, Slim, this guy’s telling you everything you need to know with the way he’s dressed. You don’t need to go any further, man, just get out now. But he was too quick on the draw for me; he had me sat down in his office and plied with coffee quicker than I could go for my gun. He then spends the next hour and a half telling me everything I never wanted to know about his god-damned agency, and how come it’s located where it is and not up there in Beverly Hills with the big boys. I didn’t know how to shut the fucker up. He was full of shit and obviously thought I was fresh off the boat, so couldn’t see through all his crap. “So, you want to be a writer,” he says, like maybe I’ve never even read a fucking book, never mind written one, “well what I want you to do is call up all these producers” – he’s got a list as long as a toilet roll right there in his holster – “and tell them you’re a best-selling British author and you see they’re making the same kind of stuff” – stuff – “you write so can you have your agent send over a couple of your books.”’ His face was a picture as he looked around the table, evidently enjoying the appalled amusement his story was evoking.
‘So what’s he supposed to be doing while you’re making all these calls?’ Craig asked, picking up his brandy. ‘I mean, that is his job, isn’t it? Or is it different in Hollywood?’
‘I guess it must be,’ Sutton responded with sublime sarcasm as he summoned the waiter to bring more brandies. ‘Or in this boy’s Hollywood it obviously is. And who can blame him when he’s “doggone fed up with doing all the work while all those chicken-shit clients sit at home on their butts whistling dixie.”’
‘He actually said that?’ Zelda chuckled.
‘As true as I’m sat here,’ Sutton replied. ‘But wait, it gets better. He then tells me he wants me to forget my books, because no one in Hollywood can read, and come up with a new concept on Rambo. Or Braveheart. Or Hamlet. Or Babe. Whatever. So I say, what you’re telling me is you want me to clone everyone else’s ideas? “Absolutely!” he says. “If it works, do it again!”’
Michael was laughing and cringing, while Zelda dried more tears. ‘So what happened in the end?’ she asked.
‘What happened in the end was that I, eager little writer that I am, ask if he’s got a screenplay I can look at, just to get an idea of the layout. You know, they’re real sticklers for layout in Hollywood. It’s like they can’t read anything unless it’s put in a format they’ve been taught how to deal with. So I ask if he’s got a script I can look at and he says, “Oh no, no, no. I’m not in the business of teaching you how to write.” So I got up, punched him off his chair and walked out the door.’
Zelda whooped again and it was a while before they all finished laughing.
‘So you’ve given up on Hollywood?’ Sandy asked, glancing at Michael from the corner of her eye as he looked past Craig towards the far end of the restaurant. Something had been attracting his attention over there for a while and she still hadn’t managed to work out what.
‘Not on Hollywood,’ Sutton answered, ‘just on jerks like that, who are a lot thicker on the ground than guys with talent. In other words, it seems to me you’ve got to eat a bellyful of crow before you get to fly in LA. And anything you ever did before you got to the States rates a big fat zero, because you’re no one until you’ve been on Oprah or killed your wife and got away with it. Do you know what they call actors’ agents out there?’ His eyes came to rest on Michael.
Michael nodded. ‘Talent agents,’ he answered.
Sutton’s eyes grew wide. ‘So actors have the exclusivity on talent?’ he cried incredulously. ‘Can you believe it? Writers count for less than nothing.’
‘So are you going back?’ Craig asked.
‘Sure. It’s a great place, just as long as you don’t take it too seriously and you don’t need it.’
‘Did you write a screenplay?’ Michael asked.
‘Not yet. But I will. And I’ll give it straight to you guys. Who do you deal with out there? CAA? ICM?’
‘Both,’ Craig answered. ‘But Michael’s got a lot of contacts here in England and Europe, so we could probably get finance without even going to Hollywood.’
‘My books are expensive,’ Sutton warned. ‘Plenty of locations and period.’
‘If the material’s good enough we can raise the money,’ Michael told him, glancing across the room again as an explosion of laughter erupted at a far table. ‘And I’ve read your books, so I know already there’s no problem with the material. The question still stands, though, can you write a screenplay? They’re totally different media and you might not have the objectivity on your own work a screenwriter could bring.’
‘You’re beginning to sound like Hollywood,’ Sutton commented. ‘But it’s a fair point and from you I’ll take it. So, I’ll write the screenplay, then you can tell me what you think.’
Michael nodded. ‘How long are you in town?’ he asked, feeling Sandy’s thigh brush against his.
Sutton looked at Sandy, who didn’t even flinch as his hand found her knee and squeezed. ‘Could be a while longer than I intended,’ he answered.
To Sandy’s relief he didn’t actually wink, though he might just as well have, for the leer didn’t leave much room for doubt on his intentions. Fortunately Michael’s attention had wandered again, so he probably hadn’t noticed, and Zelda and Craig just seemed to find his lechery amusing.
Sandy had met him two nights before at Tramp, where one of her dates had introduced them. She’d recognized his name as soon as she’d heard it, though she’d never read his books, nor did she quite remember at the time just how important a writer he was. But fortunately
he’d given her his card and when she’d mentioned it to Craig the next morning he had got her to follow up on it right away.
So here they all were now, dining at the Canteen in Chelsea Harbour, where despite being a regular customer Michael still refused to be seated at one of the tables on the podium where Michael Caine was currently sitting with his wife and guests and Viscount Linley and company were just leaving. There were probably other names and faces up there that Sandy knew or had heard of, but tonight she was much more interested in what was catching Michael’s attention at the other end of the room.
‘Where are you staying?’ Zelda asked Sutton as she picked up a candle to light a cigarillo.
Sutton’s hand climbed a little higher on Sandy’s thigh. ‘The Savoy,’ he answered.
Sandy couldn’t now be in any doubt about how much her date the other night had told Sutton about her, for the way his fingers were playing around the tops of her stockings and the right he seemed to feel at them being there told all. And she was in no position to disillusion him, for the last thing she needed was for him to take umbrage, when he could prove such a major coup for McCann’s.
The table next to them got up to leave and as they cleared the area Sandy could at last see through to the other end of the room. She still wasn’t quite sure where Michael was looking and as he was talking now, she returned her attention to what he was saying.
‘I’d like to put you together with Neil Osgood,’ he was telling Sutton. ‘Do you know him?’
‘You mean the director, Neil Osgood?’ Sutton said. ‘The one who did Falls the Shade and Deep Valley Black?’
‘Among others,’ Michael smiled. ‘We’ve talked about your books before, but they’ve always been under option when we approached your publishing agent. How are they standing now?’
‘All options have expired except on Forest Gods,’ Sutton answered. ‘I told you, they’re expensive to do.’
‘And not easily adaptable,’ Michael said frankly. ‘But Osgood’s interested and he’s going to be in London for the next couple of weeks so I think it would be a good idea for the two of you to meet up. I’ll call him in the morning and find out what his schedule’s like. He’s in pre-production right now so he should be able to fit something in.’
‘Sounds good to me,’ Sutton beamed, removing his hand from Sandy’s thigh and getting up from the table. ‘Back in two shakes,’ he promised.
As soon as he’d gone Craig began to talk excitedly about the prospect of getting him and Osgood together, declaring it was a stroke of genius on Michael’s part, while Michael insisted that it had been Osgood who had brought Sutton’s work to his attention. All the time they were talking, Sandy was watching Michael closely until finally she became aware of what, or who, kept claiming his attention over in the far corner beside the window. And just one look at the woman was enough to turn Sandy’s blood to ice, for she was so unconscionably beautiful, with her crystal-clear complexion, glorious wavy hair and sparkling eyes, that Sandy instantly felt like a showgirl by comparison. And the way the woman laughed with such ease and enjoyment, and seemed so unaware of the way men all over the restaurant were watching her, seemed to add a galling kind of mystique to her incredible appeal.
Sutton came back and almost immediately returned his hand to Sandy’s thigh. Sandy was furious, for though he knew she’d been on an official date the other night, he also knew that she was a part of the McCann agency and as such should be treated with respect. OK, it was her own fault she was having to suffer this, for she had promised herself she would give up dating once she received her promotion, but she hadn’t managed to get round to it yet. And besides, look at the kind of contacts she was making. However, being caught in a dual role like this where Sutton, the balding, overweight, old lecher – yet a genius, was seeing her as his sport for the evening, while Michael was sitting there apparently entranced by another woman whose allure and elegance seemed to ooze from every pore, only served to remind Sandy of the time Nesta had tried to warn her that Michael would never entertain the idea of a serious relationship with someone like her.
Feeling more wretched than ever, she fought to maintain her smile as she leaned back for Sutton to speak across her to Michael. ‘You know who that is, don’t you?’ Sutton whispered, though the whole table could hear.
Michael frowned. ‘Who?’ he said.
‘The woman over there,’ Sutton answered, nodding. ‘The one you keep looking at. It’s Ellen Shelby. Maybe you’ve never heard of her. She works for American Talent in LA. Now that’s an agent with class.’
Michael’s eyes moved instantly to Zelda.
Zelda was already laughing. ‘Oh, he’s heard of her all right,’ she said. ‘He just hadn’t seen her until now.’
Sutton’s eyebrows were raised, as though sensing he might have hit on something here.
Craig was looking at Sandy, watching the tightness around her mouth as she tried to hold on to her smile.
‘Shame she doesn’t deal with writers,’ Sutton was saying, ‘because I’d be beating a path to her door right now, if only to get a closer look. Or maybe she does. Is that Kit Ringwood she’s with?’ he added, straining to get a better look.
‘Yes,’ Michael answered. ‘And Bob Mansion and his wife.’ He looked at Zelda again, then turned back to Sutton. ‘Maybe you and your publishing agent can get together with Craig some time in the next week,’ he said as though the last couple of minutes had never happened. ‘It’ll be mainly him you’ll be dealing with while we work on getting something off the ground …’ His eyes shot to Sandy as he suddenly remembered that she had been the one to introduce them to Sutton and though she was primarily working for Diana and Janey, Sutton was still her find.
‘Maybe Sandy should be at the meeting too,’ Craig said, coming to the rescue.
Michael nodded and smiled as he turned his eyes to Sandy.
Sandy smiled back and felt her heart falter as their gaze locked. She wondered why, then, she was so worried about Ellen Shelby, for when he looked at her that way she just knew that it could only be a matter of time before he dropped his rule of no relationships in the office and gave in to his feelings. She had seen the way he looked at her breasts whenever she leaned over his desk and because of it she was becoming more daring than ever with what she wore. Not that the others were aware of it, for she always chose something with buttons that could be undone, or with a semi-transparent top that could be easily covered or uncovered by a jacket. She had even, on a couple of occasions, removed her panties before going to see him, but hadn’t quite plucked up the courage yet to let him know that. However, if things carried on the way they were going there was every chance he was going to find out for himself.
As Sutton carried on talking, both she and Michael turned to look at him, but Sandy could sense how aware Michael was of her now, for she could almost feel it burning between them. In fact, she was so absorbed by the intensity of it that she didn’t notice Ellen Shelby and her party coming towards their table until they were almost upon them.
‘Michael, how are you?’ Bob Mansion cried, grabbing Michael’s hand as he rose from the table.
‘Pretty good,’ Michael responded. ‘How are you, Jenny?’ he said to Mansion’s wife, while kissing her cheek.
‘We were just talking about you,’ Jenny Mansion told him while giving Zelda’s shoulder a squeeze. ‘You’ve met Kit, haven’t you?’ she said to Michael.
Michael shook the other man’s hand. ‘Several times,’ he smiled.
‘And this is Ellen,’ Jenny said proudly. ‘Ellen Shelby.’
Ellen stepped forward, a cream silk crocheted shawl covering her shoulders, yet managing to reveal the gold chain straps of her elegant bronze satin dress. Her dark, lustrous eyes were firmly on Michael’s as taking his hand, she smiled and said, ‘You’ve been going to such pains to avoid me I was beginning to think we’d never meet up.’
Michael’s surprise at her frankness showed, though he seemed more amused
than put out by it. ‘That would have been a shame,’ he remarked, holding her gaze and feeling a faint stirring inside him as her head went to one side.
‘Then perhaps we can put it to rights,’ she said. ‘Would you have lunch with me one day this week? Any day will suit me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘you’ll have to call my secretary, she keeps my diary.’
Ellen’s eyes widened. ‘What are you so afraid of, Mr McCann?’ she asked, smiling the challenge.
Michael was momentarily taken aback, then he too started to smile. ‘I won’t be free for lunch,’ he said smoothly, ‘but do send my regards to Ted Forgon and tell him the packaging for his gift is certainly improving.’
Ellen’s smile remained, though the way her eyes dimmed showed that the insult had hit home. ‘That kind of comment doesn’t only demean me, Mr McCann,’ she said softly, ‘it demeans you too for making it.’
Michael’s eyebrows flew up and she could see she had rattled him. ‘It was intended as a compliment,’ he told her, ‘but I can see it was misleading. Please accept my apologies. And I truly am all booked out for lunch this week.’
‘Then dinner,’ she said without hesitation. ‘I’m free on Thursday, so I’ll meet you here at eight o’clock. I’ll make the reservation. Good-night everyone,’ and allowing no time for a response she moved on past.
After saying goodbye to the others in her party Michael sat back down and looked at Zelda, who was grinning all over her face. ‘Did I miss the joke?’ he enquired. ‘Or am I it?’
‘I think you just met your match, Mr McCann,’ she told him.
‘You do?’ he said mildly.
Zelda nodded and continued to grin.
‘Let me tell you something, Zelda,’ he said, ‘it makes no difference to me what the woman looks like, the answer’s still going to be no.’
