“Oh my god! I’d love to play Elena’s role in the movie,” a familiar voice said behind me. When I turned, I saw Amelia decked in the most exquisite gown and having obviously pulled all the stops required for the perfect red-carpet manifestation. Everything had been curated and produced from the hair, to the nails, to the make-up and the accessories. She looked flawless. I was so used to seeing her fresh-faced and in jeans that I almost didn’t recognize her.
“Is that a verbal commitment for a possible attachment?” Beatrice asked Amelia behind me.
“If you can sell it,” Amelia said.
“You’re asking me if I can sell a script of the story that’s kept LA obsessed for the last three days? With Amelia Sanchez, Elena’s real life friend, playing Elena. And let’s not forget to mention Elena is the mayor’s daughter.” I could see the dollar signs in Beatrice’s eyes.
“Yes, please. Let’s not forget to mention it or to focus on that while designing the promo campaign for this,” I said, but I knew, even if I didn’t want it, there was no way my family wouldn’t be alluded to.
Beatrice looked at me, still clearly uncomfortable. She wasn’t used to my snark being expressed out loud.
“Of course I can sell it,” she said, and she looked like she was already mentally cashing her commission.
“I may be interested in buying it,” said a nasal voice behind me. When I turned around, I saw a tuxedo-clad man of about fifty, perfectly groomed and about my height. Archie Eisenberg.
“The question is, how soon can you have it?” Archie continued. He seemed to echo Beatrice’s sentiment.
“Am I to assume that you’re going to continue working as a producer even without Fred Appleton as a partner?” Beatrice asked Archie, and I was reminded why I had stuck with her as an agent for so long even if she got on my nerves half the time. She knew how to ask the uncomfortable but necessary questions.
“Of course!” Archie said, and he sounded almost offended. “I’ve always been more of a classic producer than he was. I hustle to find the money, get the right team, make sure everything gets shot without delays, ask for the cuts and trims that need to be made, and even carefully oversee the press side of things.”
“To that last part I can attest,” David joined in the conversation. “You oversee the press even to the detriment of freedom of speech.”
Ouch. It looked like Archie Eisenberg was indeed the one who tried stopping David from publishing his exposé about Dashing Henry, and it also looked like David did hold on to at leastsomenegativity. He hadn’t exactly forgotten or forgiven Archie.
“You two know each other?” Amelia asked David and Archie, not missing a beat.
“Briefly,” said Archie, with a polite smile.
“Not really,” added David with an expression so unreadable, I tried to interrogate the clenching of his jaw for some hints. “But I know he is not a fan of my reporting.”
Beatrice laughed nervously.
“And you two,” she said, pointing to me and David, “are writing this movie together, right?”
I was about to reply for David with something non-committal since I’d promised him he’d be able to think about it. Plus, I wasn’t sure he’d want to join in at all now that it seemed Archie Eisenberg could be our potential boss. But David was faster than me. And I was quite taken by the answer.
41
An hour after the red-carpet affair, I was dropped by an Uber a few blocks from home. I thought the walk would clear my mind and would be the perfect occasion to make a couple of necessary calls. But I didn’t anticipate how dark—and cold—it was going to be even after a gloriously sunny and warm afternoon.
Brenda picked up at the second tone, and we exchanged the customary greetings. Fortunately, I had seen her and Amelia the previous weekend and I didn’t have to bother with many civilities. So I cut to the chase.
“Remember how over Christmas I babysat those furry monsters who are your children, and you said you owed me one?” I asked my former colleague atLA Misconducts. I loved spending time with Brenda and Amelia’s dogs, but they were the most spoiled and demonic canines I’ve ever met.
“Of course. It was a glorious week in Bali,” Brenda said. “Troglodita, sit. Sit. Sit. SIT! Bimbo, no! Leave it!” she yelled, not at me but at little demon number one, the red merle Australian Shepherd aptly called Troglodita; and little demon number two, a feisty, overweight Corgi named Bimbo. Bimbo was unafraid of showing teeth whenever she didn’t feel happy, which was often.
“I’m ready to collect,” I told Brenda, and I was so happy Troglodita and Bimbo were being their usual worst selves because Brenda had to be very aware that those ten days I spent with her two furries weren’t easy. “What are you wearing?”
“The navy silk pajamas Amelia gave me for my last birthday,” Brenda said.
“Great, you don’t even have to change. You can dress that up. Just put some heels on and a little bit of rouge, will you?”
“Where am I going exactly?” Brenda asked.
“I need you to be your wife’s plus one at the SAG afterparty because I really need a bath right now. Tell her I sent you.”
“You’re shaming me into being a dutiful wife?”
