How to be Famous

by Alison Bond

  ‘I’m not worried about that, Mr Rosenburg,’ said Melanie. ‘What I am worried about is that you’re sitting here telling me I’m fired and talking about termination clauses when I pay ten per cent to a man in London to deal with this kind of thing for me. Will you go through the proper channels and will you please stop calling me sweetheart.’

  She had raised her voice. Now he would hate her even more.

  ‘Fine. Who’s your agent? I like to do things face to face, out of courtesy, but if you want it this way it just takes a bit longer, same result.’

  ‘Jim Taylor.’

  Bob frowned; Jim was about the only agent in the UK he had time for, the only one with any decent clients at least. ‘You might want to pack while I make the call. Sweetheart.’ He couldn’t resist.

  He checked his watch, just after two London time, with a bit of luck he’d miss Jim at lunch and deal with some no-brain assistant.

  3

  ‘Jim’s out of the office at the moment, Bob, but if you hold on one minute I’ll try and patch you through to his mobile.’

  Lynsey dialled Jim on the other line. Quite possibly he’d scream at her for interrupting him so she braced herself. She was connected to his voicemail and couldn’t decide whether or not she was relieved. She left a quick message and returned to Bob.

  ‘I’m only getting his voicemail right now but I’ve left a message asking him to return your call.’

  Lynsey’s other line was ringing. She ignored it.

  ‘He’d better,’ said Bob. ‘We have a major problem out here and unless Chaplin signs her contract now, and I mean right now, we have no movie. At least not with her.’ And he hung up.

  Lynsey dialled the Groucho but the line was busy.

  Her other line was still ringing. She picked it up.

  ‘Jim Taylor’s office.’

  ‘Hi, Lynsey, it’s Melanie. May I speak to Jim?’

  ‘He’s not here, Melanie, and his mobile is on voicemail. Is something going on?’

  The line was terrible. Lynsey had to strain to hear as Melanie told her that some git of an American producer – Lynsey swiftly deduced this would be Bob – was waving a contract as thick as a telephone directory in front of her and demanding that she sign or be fired. Melanie’s voice was strangely high pitched and she sounded like she was holding back tears.

  ‘Melanie, hold on. Are you by a phone? I’ll run round the corner and get Jim and he’ll call you back. Five minutes, okay? Don’t worry, it will be fine.’

  Melanie was terrified. What if Jim couldn’t fix this? What if by tonight she was on a plane home? After all, she was still just an actress for hire and it wouldn’t be the first time an actress was fired. She felt sick as she realized Bob was right. There was no contract.

  Lynsey raced past the front desk.

  ‘I need to go and get Jim. If he calls I’ve got my mobile, or he should call Melanie Chaplin.’

  She ran down Wardour Street and across the cobbles of Meard Street, arriving breathless in front of the smoked-glass doors with the subtle brass nameplate, easily missed by tourists. She could do without this, she really could.

  The polished receptionist informed her that the CMG party had left twenty minutes ago. No, she didn’t know where they were heading.

  On her way back to the office Lynsey tried Jim again then called the CMG reception and asked them to try the mobiles for everyone who was at the party, get a message to Jim to call in.

  None of this made sense to her. Lynsey could recall several times when clients had started working on films without a signed contract. She knew for a fact that at the very bottom of Jim’s to-do pile lingered an actor’s contract for a major studio that still hadn’t been signed, and since the film had been made, released and was due to come out on video any day now it probably never would be. As long as the main points were agreed and the money was flowing a contract was a bitch of a job that was hard to prioritize. Melanie’s contract had arrived only that morning and Lynsey hadn’t even mentioned it to Jim as he was too busy cramming a day of calls into one hour because of the party. She probably should have told him; she’d get into trouble for that judgement call.

  Back at the office Lynsey pulled out the contract. Melanie had exaggerated; it wasn’t as thick as the telephone directory, only nearly. She didn’t understand all of it but felt better having it in front of her. Not a single CMG employee was picking up their mobile; they must have been made to turn them off in the spirit of party solidarity. She had to call Melanie back and say something, she couldn’t just leave her waiting, maybe this wasn’t as bad as it seemed. She took a deep cleansing breath.

  Melanie jumped on the telephone when it rang. She knew it wasn’t Lynsey’s fault that Jim wasn’t around but she was frustrated that there was no one in the office at all who might be able to help. Alice maybe, or even Stuart. The thousands of miles between them loomed large in her mind.

  ‘It doesn’t make any sense,’ Lynsey said. ‘We’ve had plenty of clients work on films with full insurance while we negotiate the contract. You were only employed last week. I’m looking at your contract right now and straight away I can see it’s not great. The billing, the payment schedule. There are definitely things here Jim would want to change. You really shouldn’t sign.’

  ‘Then what should I do?’

  Lynsey had absolutely no idea. ‘Don’t worry about anything,’ she said. ‘It’ll be fine.’

  Lynsey had a strong feeling she was already in trouble, and explaining all this to Jim would end in tears, so she may as well go all the way. Melanie actually sounded scared. She was usually so composed but her cool persona was showing definite cracks. Lynsey placed a call to the production office.

  ‘Bob Rosenburg, please.’

  Maybe she could stall him.

  Davey had been searching for Melanie since she disappeared from her trailer. He found her standing by the third phone he tried.

  ‘I don’t know what to say, Mel, they’ve got me in a corner.’

  Now Melanie knew it was no simple mistake. Davey looked defeated, his palms facing her in a gesture of resignation. She had hoped that he would be on her side.

  ‘I’m on your side, Mel, I really am, but if we shut down now this might never get made. I just can’t risk it.’

  Oh go on, risk it, please risk it. I can’t go back now. I just can’t. You can’t take this away from me. She didn’t say any of this, she just smiled. Davey was impressed by her attitude. Any other actress would be weeping and wailing or, at the very least, angry with him. Maybe she didn’t care enough. She even looked cool, her linen shorts and light shirt were fresh and clean. There wasn’t a trace of sweat on her brow in the sweltering heat. He looked closely and this time Davey could see a hesitation in her smile and caught a glimpse of fear in her eyes that made her suddenly vulnerable and predictably even more attractive. If only he wasn’t married.

  ‘I have Jim Taylor for him,’ Lynsey blatantly lied to Bob’s assistant. ‘Mr Rosenburg,’ she started as he came on the line, ‘I’m sorry but I must insist that you stop harassing our client on set.’ She took another deep breath. ‘I don’t know what the problem is with the insurers, it’s certainly not something I’ve come across before and if you want me to get in touch with them I’d be happy to do so. Perhaps you should reconsider the insurers that you use.’

  She crossed her fingers and waited.

  There was silence before Bob started softly speaking. ‘I don’t know who the hell you think you are, sweetheart, but if Miss Chaplin doesn’t sign right now, she’s off the picture. Now, my time is precious so get off the line and stop fucking with me.’

  And then he hung up.

  Lynsey seriously considered packing up her desk right now to save time later. Jim was going to be angry. Fair enough, none of this was directly her fault but he would definitely say she shouldn’t have called Bob Rosenburg. She should have waited, they would be back soon enough, but she had been lost in the drama of it all.
She could never resist an adventure. She had just pissed off Jim’s man of the moment, and Melanie, and probably Davey Black too. One way or another Lynsey was pretty sure she would be fired by sunset. Think. Think. She tried not to care. So no more Hollywood gossip? So what? An image of the Hollywood sign, gleaming white like a holy icon, galvanized her into action. There may be someone who could save her after all.

  4

  It was six o’clock in the morning in Los Angeles and Max Parker was swimming laps in the heated outdoor Olympic-sized pool at the back of his Malibu mansion.

  Max loved his pool.

  It directly overlooked the ocean where he swam for ten months of the year until the water got too cold, or rather until he got too old to take it. Max Parker was sixty-three years old, churned fifty laps a day and ran the New York marathon each year, for charity. It kept his body in good shape and let him eat whatever he wanted without guilt. A highly confidential and top-class hair rinse every three weeks kept the grey hidden at a hefty price, but it was worth it to Max to feel attractive. Beauty didn’t come from within. Beauty came from whatever you could afford to lay out on improving what you had.

  Max could hear the phone ringing and interrupted his stroke to consider answering it. He had three live-in staff on the estate but he wouldn’t expect them to pick up such early calls. He’d been in the business for over forty years and it never failed to surprise him the hours that people seemed to need him urgently. It was probably a client in desperate need of a good hooker. When your clients earn twenty million dollars a movie there isn’t much you won’t do to keep them happy. That’s why his client list was the envy of every other agent in town.

  Whoever it was on the phone wasn’t giving up. Max had never believed in answer machines, they just meant more calls to return, and the kind of people that had his home number knew he was an early riser; they also knew he could never bear to leave a phone unanswered within earshot.

  Meanwhile, across the world, Lynsey hoped that she was showing the right kind of initiative. Max Parker was Davey Black’s agent, co-chairman of CMG Los Angeles. The legendary Hollywood figure had taken Davey on after one of his frequent late-night sessions of watching MTV. Max had signed a lot of new names that way. These young superstars blended seamlessly with his older, more established clients. From action heroes to multi-nominated actresses and cutting-edge directors, Max’s list was one of the best in the industry and Jim Taylor worshipped him like a god.

  Lynsey had spoken to Max on two occasions and both times he had been patient and courteous, a welcome change from the usual power freaks that Hollywood spewed out with alarming regularity. She looked at his picture in Variety as she prepared to speak to him; unnaturally perfect teeth and a suspicious dye job couldn’t disguise the self-satisfied appeal of a man at the peak of his profession.

  She hoped that calling Max wasn’t a spur of the moment decision she would live to regret. It seemed like a good idea. Help me, Max, you’re my only hope.

  Max listened as a cute-sounding English chick from the London office apologized for waking him (as if!) and explained the situation in Indonesia. He felt for her, she sounded stressed, and he thought that she had shown a certain amount of smarts by calling him. She explained the situation clearly and succinctly. By the time she was finished Max Parker was up for the fight. He had gone head to head with Bob Rosenburg several times and had emerged victorious on more than half of those occasions.

  ‘Now listen,’ he said, ‘what’s your name? Lynsey. Now listen, Lynsey, you did absolutely the right thing by calling me. Let’s see if we can’t fix this. You wanna stay on the line and see how we do it out here? You should do, it’ll be an education.’

  Lynsey was impressed, 6 a.m. and the old guy was ready for action. She heard a phone ringing on the line – Max hadn’t waited for her reply, he’d just patched her in on his next call. He asked for Davey and there was a long delay as whoever had picked up the phone went to fetch him.

  ‘Gotta talk to the client first,’ Max explained to Lynsey during the silence. ‘That’s my client, not yours, so if you hear anything about Melanie you don’t like, don’t take it personally. Davey may have had a change of heart. Make sure you know all the facts and exactly what your client wants. Davey is one hell of a talented director but he wouldn’t have the brains to call me himself. He’s one of these anti-establishment types who hates the fact that he needs me. You might have done me a favour, Lynsey, given me the chance to flex my muscles at him and show him why he pays me ten per cent. The Chinese character for crisis is the same as the character for opportunity, did you know that?’

  Before Lynsey could answer that in fact, yes, she did know that, Davey Black was on the line. Yes, he wanted Melanie. No, he didn’t think it could be fixed. Yes, Bob had threatened to fire him. Of course he still wanted to do the movie. Yes, even with Bob. But not without Melanie.

  And then Max called Bob Rosenburg.

  Lynsey held her breath. Would Bob know she was on the line, had Max even remembered?

  ‘Bob? Max Parker. I hear the Black picture’s hit a snag out there. Considering the fault is yours I’d like the turnaround to kick in immediately.’

  ‘Max, Max, no need. We can just replace the tricky English broad. She’s very weak.’

  ‘Melanie Chaplin? No way. Haven’t you heard? She’s the next big thing. I’m probably going to cast her in the next CMG package. Without Chaplin the film’s just another B-list cast in a pretty-looking place. People will probably think it’s a goddamn action movie with cheap effects and too much dialogue. Melanie Chaplin is a deal breaker. We’ll be looking to go to the mini-majors to get this set up as soon as LA opens, so hopefully we can sort out your back end quickly.’

  Bob Rosenburg changed tack. ‘Sorry, Max, but check out clause eleven, paragraph two – we paid for the script, it’s ours for five years.’

  ‘Yeah? Well check out paragraph three – only if you have commenced actual production, and I don’t believe you have commenced actual production. Am I wrong?’

  ‘Shut up for a second, Max. Jesus. You really think she’s that good? Hell, I was only looking out for your boy. If she means that much to him he can have her, but if the picture sinks without a trace, it will take Davey with it. I was just trying to save his career.’

  ‘You’re a liar, Bob, and a bad one. Shame on you for getting heavy just to get your own way. Who did you have lined up? Nicole? You cannot slither out of one of my deals. I’ll let you off this time but if you fuck around with one of my clients again my whole list will be out of bounds to you. My whole list, you get that?’

  ‘I get it,’ said Bob. Fuck it; Max Parker’s list was worth more than any pissy little jungle movie.

  ‘Good. Now I’m going for breakfast so we’ll talk soon. Love to Hilary.’ And everyone hung up.

  Lynsey called Melanie and told her that everything was taken care of and then pulled on a pair of headphones, stuck Very Best of Chic in her computer CD-drive and took a break. She felt exhilarated and exhausted. She felt fantastic. She put her feet up on the desk and listened to Nile Rodgers singing that these were the good times and she was inclined to agree with him. That had been a power conversation and no party could have given her a better buzz.

  That was how they found her when they got back. The CMG party had gone from the Groucho Club to a seedy porno cinema in the basement of a building on Brewer Street and when everyone emerged into the fresh air they had all found messages from Lynsey on their mobile phones and raced back to the office to fix the crisis. They didn’t expect her to calmly state that she’d fixed it and was taking a late lunch. Gathering her things, Lynsey walked out.

  *

  Bob scratched a new mosquito bite and decided to leave within the hour.

  Max Parker resumed swimming. This Melanie Chaplin must be some actress. He had bluffed, he didn’t know her, but perhaps he should look at some tape. They were putting together a new drama for HBO and it needed some class. Later i
n the day, when he called CMG London and asked for Lynsey, he was put through to Stuart who gritted his teeth as he was told that no, he couldn’t help, and took a message for little Lynsey Dixon to call Mr Max Parker. Max understood office hierarchy, he knew that his call would get noticed. He hoped it gave Lynsey a smile.

  Melanie Chaplin threw up in the portaloo. The nerves in her stomach were violently released. Then she brushed her teeth, checked her hair and walked back onto set as if nothing had happened.

  Believe You Are A Star

  It helps if you have some talent. If you don’t then you must be prepared to acquire some. That will take plenty of time, hard work and perhaps money, but do it. If you believe that you’re a star then you should be eager to learn. Don’t think you can get by without it. Find the time, find the money. If you’re a star then nothing will stop you.

  5

  Melanie had a boyfriend called Jonathan. She loved him. She just wasn’t sure if she liked him that much. He was hard work. They were a passionate couple, frequently fighting and frequently making up. She had made a lot of changes to try and please him and things seemed to be getting better. If he asked her to marry him she would say yes. But after three weeks shooting in the jungle she still didn’t miss Jonathan at all. It was horrible to have to admit it but she could go for hours without thinking about him once. Days if she was perfectly honest.

  The film was coming to an end. The work was good; Melanie had the beginnings of a feeling she wasn’t quite ready to express, a feeling that she had done well. She had put her heart and soul into it. She was scared of her heart and soul being up there on the big screen for everyone to see. Is it better to give everything in the pursuit of success or should you keep something back so that when you fail you have a reason to try again? Melanie had never risked so much before and she was risking it all for Davey Black.