by Maggie Marr
“This is very bad,” Jeremy said, finally gazing at Tolliver and then Jessica.
Tolliver, seeming to sense that Jeremy still believed his tale, went for the kill.
“Bad? This isn’t bad, Jeremy, this is a bloodbath. This and Jessica losing Holden and Maurice? CTA’s lost over a hundred fifteen million in the last two months.”
Tolliver studied Jeremy’s reaction and continued. “According to Arnold, yesterday’s screening may have made us vulnerable to federal prosecution for copyright violation.”
Jessica seethed. What had started as a brazen attempt at a power grab by Tolliver was now turning into a circus.
“Tolliver, I can assure you that CTA is not at risk.”
“Don’t be so sure, Jessica,” Tolliver spat out. “Had I not agreed to let Arnold into the screening yesterday, we’d all be in federal court today.”
So Tolliver was the traitor. Jessica had wondered all of last night who had let Arnold and his thugs into the building. Her security team was impeccable; highly trained professionals with a spotless record. Lauren had even given each of the guards a picture of Arnold so they knew to detain him.
“You let Arnold into the building? I believe that my instructions regarding Arnold were explicit,” Jessica said, her tone sharp. She turned her attention to her shell-shocked boss. “Jeremy, I spoke to Ted Robinoff today and he harbors no ill will toward CTA. There will be no legal action.”
“For now,” Tolliver shot back, fanning the flames. “But your little stunt was embarrassing and reckless.”
“Reckless? It was quite well planned. In fact, even the CEO of Worldwide was here. I doubt that it would have been nearly as embarrassing for Arnold had my instructions been followed.
It’s interesting to me, Tolliver, that I was on the phone with Ted Robinoff this morning and he made no mention of your seventy-five-million-dollar deal.”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“No, Tolliver, I did not use that word. However, ultimately Ted would have to approve of such a large expenditure. And if your deal was as imminent as you claim, then I’d think that Ted would be aware of it.”
“You know, Jessica, Arnold warned me about you,” Tolliver snarled. “Said there was a reason why someone as deceitful as Lydia Albright got along with you so well.”
“I wish CTA had received a similar warning. It seems that neither I nor Jeremy were adequately briefed on your reputation or your earning potential.”
“Reputation?” Tolliver spat out. “You, speak to me about reputation? You mean there are worse reputations than living with a gay man for four years, losing two A-list stars, plus whoring yourself out to a womanizing producer? Not to mention your former assistant absconding with CTA’s most sensitive documents. And our Rolodex. Did you know that Josh Dragatsis calls all our top clients every day?”
Jessica was horrified. Tolliver had stepped way over the line. You didn’t get personal. She had been in battles with agents before, but never one in which a colleague so blatantly lied and slandered her before the head of the company. Stunned, she looked at Jeremy, whom she expected to throw Tolliver out for such a rude outburst. But Jeremy sat frozen on the couch, his silence indicative of where his loyalty lay.
Jessica exhaled. “Well, Tolliver, I think you’ve made your opinions clear. And this meeting is finished,” she said, gathering the shreds of her dignity.
Tolliver stood and exited without another word.
“Jess, I just don’t know,” Jeremy whispered. “If Tolliver’s statements are accurate about the Worldwide deal …”
Jessica was rattled.
“Jeremy, I’m sure they aren’t.”
“That is a strong accusation against your co-president,” Jeremy said.
“And yet so skillfully played by Tolliver, it is virtually impossible to confirm, isn’t it?” Jessica hoped that Jeremy would see through the shell game. Throughout her tenure as president of CTA, she’d given Jeremy her unquestioning loyalty. At this moment, faced with this choice, she expected the same in return.
Jeremy rose from the couch, refusing to look Jessica in the eye.
“I don’t see how this can continue much longer. You know what they say about a house divided. Distrust at this level, it will destroy CTA.”
“I agree, Jeremy.”
“Jess—”
“You really needn’t say anything more.” Jessica felt as though she should be angry. In fact, a minute ago she had been. She’d wanted to rage against Tolliver, his inaccurate claims and obvious lies. But something had snapped, and now somehow she didn’t care. Jeremy, CTA, the title of copresident—it didn’t matter to her anymore.
Jeremy turned toward Jessica’s office door, both of them recognizing the finality of the moment yet neither prepared to acknowledge it.
“The attorneys, then,” Jeremy said, reverting back to his stiff British manners.
“Yes,” Jessica said.
“Right, then. Take your time, Jess, there’s no rush. Not as though I’ll be having security escort you out the door.”
“Thank you, Jeremy. A couple of weeks, then. To exit gracefully.”
“Certainly, of course. Anything you need.”
And then he left.
Jessica let out a deep breath; she felt like a balloon had just been pricked by a pin. She was tired, whipped, and yet very calm. Not afraid or bereft, the way she’d always anticipated feeling if she got fired. Instead, a sense of calm empowerment surrounded her. The world, her time—all of it was now hers to fill.
*
Jessica sat on the couch in her living room waiting for Mike. She watched the headlights of his Aston Martin through the living-room windows as his car climbed the drive. She listened as the garage door opened and then closed. She heard Mike’s footfalls as he made his way to the stairs. It was at that moment that he must have seen her. Sitting alone, in the dark, on her couch in the unused living room. She wondered what she must look like to him. Perhaps as though she’d just heard the news that someone had died?
“Jess?” he said, flipping on a soft light. He stood before her looking down, consternation on his face.
She tilted her head back, took in the sight of him in his shirt and Lucky jeans. Without saying a word she lifted the plastic stick to him, holding it out as if it were an offering. She’d retrieved it after Tolliver’s tirade and Jeremy’s betrayal. There was a quizzical look on Mike’s face as he reached for the piece of plastic Jessica held in her hand. A look that gave way to shock and joyful surprise.
“Is this …?” He didn’t finish as a sly smile crept up his face.
Jessica nodded, watching his reaction. He scooped her up into his arms, twirling her with joy. He let out a sound like a whoop before they both collapsed breathless on the couch.
“I knew it!” Mike said, like the victor of a bet everyone told him he’d lose.
“Knew it? How? I didn’t even know.”
“Jess, come on! You’re sick all the time, and tired, and”—he looked at her breasts—“your tits are huge.”
Jessica playfully hit him on the shoulder. “Wish you would have told me.”
“I thought you knew and wanted to surprise me. The other night completely sealed it, though.”
Jessica gave him a questioning look.
“Jess, I’ve known you a long time. A cheeseburger? I’ve never even heard you mention a cheeseburger. And the way you plowed through those fries?” He leaned forward toward her tummy. “Someone must have been hungry,” he said to her still-small belly.,/p>
“Don’t forget the chocolate shake,” Jessica said sheepishly, burying her head in his shoulder.
“Yeah, well, don’t you forget the fruits and vegetables,” Mike said in a protective tone. “We’ve got a baby to build. I think I’ll hire a cook. How long do we have?”
“About seven months, give or take a week or two. I’m seeing the doctor tomorrow.”
“Have you told Jeremy yet?” Mike asked.
> “No, silly,” Jess said playfully, “I thought the father should know first. Besides,” she added, her face suddenly serious, “it won’t be necessary to tell Jeremy.”
“Oh yeah, why?” Mike leaned forward and brushed a strand of Jessica’s auburn hair away from her eyes.
“Because I think I got fired today.”
“You are on a roll, baby,” Mike said, clearly relieved. “That place is the most toxic environment in town.”
“Hey, that’s my company,” Jessica said with mock defensiveness.
“Was—no longer. I think it’s great. You’re way too smart for that place. And Tolliver? Who needs the pain?”
Jessica was relieved to hear Mike articulate all the thoughts that had run through her mind while driving home. Who did need the pain? She’d gotten into this business because she loved films and the people who made them, not because she liked battling people with no talent and huge egos.
“You can come back and work for me,” Mike said coyly.
“Thanks, but no more bosses.”
“Whatever you want.” Mike put his arm around her and squeezed.
“Maybe my own management company. I’m going to think on it for a while, but I may go it alone.”
Mike leaned forward and gave her a warm, languid kiss. “Jess, you still don’t get it.” He smiled. “You’re not ever going to be alone.”
Chapter 34
Mary Ann and Mitsy’s Givenchy Shoes
Twenty minutes late. It was Mitsy’s newest and most annoying habit, always being late. Mary Anne glanced around the Coffee Bean patio and closed her laptop. She’d gotten a little further on the outline for her next script. But Mary Anne was hungry. She and Mitsy were going to have lunch and then buy Mitsy a car. It was her mother’s second big purchase after her new Toluca Lake condominium, but the one that seemed to excite Mitsy the most. The recent spending spree had been made possible by the surprise sale of her three children’s books to a large New York publisher. The size of Mitsy’s advance surprised Mitsy, Mary Anne, and even Mitsy’s new literary agent, Andrea (recommended by Jessica).
“What can I say, dear, people love buying books for their children. I know I always did,” Mitsy said in her unassuming Midwestern way. It was the first money that Mitsy had ever earned—not that she needed it. According to her parents’ separation agreement, half of their multitude of assets belonged to Mitsy, but it was the fact that Mitsy had earned the book advance, Mary Anne believed, that gave her mother a self-esteem boost.
Mitsy, the author, had informed the family that the condo was for winters. She made it very clear when she’d called Michael and Michelle (conferencing in Mary Anne) that she would be spending the spring, summer, and fall in St. Paul.
“I have to get my grandparenting time in, now, don’t I?”
The final outcome of Marvin and Mitsy’s marriage had yet to be determined. They still spoke three times a day, with Mitsy faxing task lists to Marvin’s office of everything he needed to complete. Mary Anne did hear from her brother, Michael, that Marvin had decided it was best to end his relationship with Nancy Macintosh. He helped her find a job in Bismark, closer to her family, something Mary Anne wished he had done years before.
“Sorry I’m late, dear,” said Mitsy, breezing up in her white linen skirt and Givenchy shoes (another Los Angeles habit her mother seemed quite comfortable with: buying expensive shoes), “but I stopped in the most darling bookstore two doors down. They have a fabulous children’s section and I started talking with the owner and it seems I now have my very first book signing.”
Mary Anne marveled at the ease with which Mitsy seemed to plow through life. Mitsy’s unflappability, a trait Mary Anne had been thoroughly annoyed with until recently, now struck awe in her. She hoped that someday she, too, would float through life’s rapids confidently instead of flailing as if about to drown.
“Really? I’ve never noticed it,” Mary Anne said.
“Well, let’s stop in. It’s on our way to lunch.”
*
Mitsy pushed open the bookshop door and the bell above tinkled. The cool air was refreshing. Mary Anne inhaled, drinking in the familiar scent of paper, glue, and ink on the page. She looked around, glancing at her first childhood love: books. The shop was quaint with a warm atmosphere. Well-loved was the description that popped into Mary Anne’s mind.
She wandered toward the fiction section, admiring the titles and the authors’ names on each spine. It was a secret wish of Mary Anne’s that she, like Mitsy, would write a book one day. Mitsy’s laugh drew Mary Anne out of her bibliophilic reverie. She turned toward Mitsy, who now stood next to a gorgeous man.
“Mary Anne, I want you to meet Adam,” Mitsy said, smiling at the tall man with glasses and curly dark hair.
“Hello,” Mary Anne said. She extended her hand and hoped it wasn’t shaking.
“I was just telling Adam about your newest script. It seems he’s a writer, too,” Mitsy said. “Adam, do you mind?” Mitsy asked, pointing toward the back of the shop.
“No, please. It’s around the corner and to your left.”
Mary Anne and Adam watched Mitsy’s outline recede.
“Your mother is really something,” Adam said. “I read a bio of her in Publishers Weekly. Amazing how she wrote her books years ago and just gave them away as gifts for years and years.”
“Yes, we never knew just how talented she was.”
“Well, talent seems to run in the family,” Adam said, eyeing Mary Anne. “Your mother raves about you. She’s very excited about your premiere.”
Mary Anne blushed. Was he flirting with her? Or just being friendly? She wasn’t good at reading those signs.
“Yes, it’s all very exciting,” Mary Anne said. The conversation seemed to stall.
“It’s lovely, your shop,” she blurted. “How long have you had it?”
“About five years,” Adam said. “I was in New York before this, writing plays mostly. But my great-aunt left me the shop in her will, and I thought it had to be the perfect opportunity to make a change.”
Mary Anne let her fingers drift along the spine of the book she’d been flipping through.
“Skinny Dip. Have you read it?” Adam inquired.
“No, but Hiaasen is one of my favorite authors.”
“Brilliant, isn’t he? You’ve heard they’re turning it into a film?” Adam asked.
Mary Anne had heard. In fact, she was desperate to do the adaptation, but this one time decided to play dumb.
“Really?” she said.
“Yes. But Hiaasen is a tricky adaptation, don’t you think? So difficult to capture his tone.”
“You’re right!” Mary Anne said, self-consciousness giving way to enthusiasm. “But every adaptation is about the essence of the book, the voice really, not just the plot.”
Adam smiled. “If you like Hiaasen, you know what else you’ll like?” With a twinkle in his eye he waved her forward, pulling a book from the shelves. “Now, give this a read, and then we should see the movie. Talk about a tricky adaptation.”
Did he just ask me on a date? Mary Anne wondered.
“Mary Anne, we should go,” Mitsy called from the front door. “We have the car dealership after lunch.”
Mary Anne looked at her mother, wishing that she and Adam had another moment alone.
“Take it,” Adam said, handing Mary Anne the book. “Just promise to see the movie with me as soon as you’re finished.” Mary Anne blushed.
“I’d love to,” Mary Anne said. Please God, don’t let me fall over anything, Mary Anne begged as she backed toward the front of the shop. She followed Mitsy and gave Adam a quick wave and a smile as she pulled shut the door.
“He’s a cute one,” Mitsy said, grinning and putting on her sunglasses.
“Mother,” Mary Anne said, not completely disagreeing this time with her mother’s taste in men.
Chapter 35
Celeste Solange
Celeste glanced arou
nd at the empty remains of her and Damien’s Hollywood Hills home. The house had sold quickly in L.A.’s hot real-estate market. (Telling people that Celeste Solange and Damien Bruckner slept there added a huge amount to the selling price.) The cleaners were thorough. All that remained was a pile of mail sitting on the kitchen counter and a pair of Prada flats next to the front door. She never wore flats, so it had to be a pair of her housekeeper’s old shoes. Celeste lifted an official-looking envelope, the return address from Howard Abromawitz. Inside were the divorce papers. The prenup was still in place, and Celeste would receive all that had been negotiated between her and Damien prior to their marriage. That, and her freedom. She glanced through the documents. Yellow tabs pointed to the places she needed to sign. Happy to have this chapter in her life closed, she pulled a pen from her bag.
She put the papers in the already pre-addressed and prepaid envelope and sealed it. Finished. She picked up the rest of the mail and placed it in her purse. Turning to leave, she took one last look out the kitchen window. All of Los Angeles sprawled out beyond her pool. This was her final farewell to an unhappy home, a disastrous marriage, and a disheartening lifestyle.
Celeste would stay at the Four Seasons until after the Seven Minutes Past Midnight premiere. Then she and Ted were headed to New York. He’d convinced her to at least try his beloved Manhattan for a while. Nothing definite; she didn’t have to stay. In fact, Ted had made it very clear he’d live wherever she chose. Just as long as they were together.
Walking toward the front door, Celeste spotted the Enquirer lying on the staircase. One of the cleaners must have forgotten their reading. She reached for the magazine and a giggle escaped her lips. There, plastered on the front page, was Brie Ellison, topless, groping a dark-haired, tattooed girl.
BRIE BUSTS OUT OF THE CLOSET, the headline read. The second page contained a salacious story about Damien walking in on Brie in a compromising position with her new assistant. Celeste surmised . that the only way this could have offended Damien and ended their relationship was if the girls had no interest in his joining their affair. She wondered what Damien would do now. Brie had just fallen out of Borderland Blue, Damien’s film, while it was in preproduction, and there wasn’t anyone to take the role. Damien’s movie was finished unless he found a star.