Madison Avenue Shoot

by Jessica Fletcher

  Grady leaned close to my ear. “These days they’d have to rename it On the Dwarf Planet Pluto,” he whispered. “It doesn’t qualify as a full planet anymore.”

  The title of the film didn’t strike a bell with me, but then I don’t often get out to a movie theater. The last time must have been several years ago. I do like to read the movie reviews in the newspaper every week. And with cable service I can catch up with the latest films on television, even though it’s a couple of months after they come out.

  Lucy, the production assistant, leaned between Grady and me and asked in a low voice, “Would you like more water?”

  I declined, but Grady took another bottle from her tray.

  When she’d withdrawn, I noticed a folded note in front of Grady. I nudged his arm and pointed to the paper. Grady opened it. “Call me,” it said. He looked over at the producer, who’d been watching him, nodded, and slid the message in his pocket.

  Meanwhile, Betsy rattled off the names of three more movies from the Adam Akmanian canon, but those titles were also unfamiliar to me.

  Grady leaned over again. “I’ve never heard of any of those films. Who is this guy?”

  “And, of course, last year he directed Battle of the Alien Space Cadets.” Betsy sat back and smiled.

  “Okay. That one I’ve heard of,” Grady said under his breath. “A real shoot-’em-up. Frank loved it.”

  “So is the Permezzo commercial going to be science fiction?” Anne asked no one in particular.

  “Adam is tied up in meetings in L.A. today,” Howerstein said, ignoring the aside. “He’s flying in the beginning of next week, but he told me to tell you he sends you his very best, and that he’s eager to meet and work with each of you next week.”

  “I doubt he sent any messages at all,” Lance said, giving his assistant another poke. “Directors are prima donnas, or I should say prima donalds, since they’re all male.”

  Lena began writing furiously on her pad.

  “And I know all about Akmanian. He’s a wack job!” he proclaimed.

  “No. No. Only the best for Permezzo,” Antonio said.

  Anne waved a hand in the air. I noticed that she had removed her opal ring. “He’s probably more like a has-been,” she said, “but then I suppose doing commercials is not at the top of the wish list for Hollywood’s A-list directors.”

  “On the contrary,” Betsy said, working to control her temper. “Commercial work is prized by Hollywood directors.”

  “So you say. Name one,” Lance said.

  “I can name you dozens of Hollywood directors who have done spots,” she replied, “including just about all the famous names.” She started counting on her fingers. “Spike Lee, Ridley Scott, Michael Bay, Martin Scorsese, Michael Mann, Oliver Stone, Wes Anderson, David Lynch.”

  “All right. Let’s stop this now,” Howerstein said. “Betsy’s right. The top guys in Hollywood are happy to direct commercials.”

  “I wouldn’t have hired Akmanian,” Lance said, leaning over to see what Lena had taken down.

  “Well, fortunately it isn’t up to you,” Betsy said acidly. “We’re very pleased with his reel. He’s going to do a marvelous job for Permezzo. He’s excited about the project, and I’m certain you’ll find him very professional when you work with him next week.”

  Antonio seemed happy that his director was in the company of Scorsese and Stone; he clasped his hands together and smiled his approval at Betsy. She sat up a little straighter in her seat. “Daniel has to leave for another appointment. If you have any questions, now is the time to ask them. Or you can wait till you’re on the set next week.”

  No one around me raised a hand, and neither did I, although, if pressed, I could think of a few, beginning with, Is it too late to back out?

  Chapter Five

  “Say cheese!” “Brie!” Stella Bedford had linked arms with me while Jimbo Barnes aimed his digital camera in our direction and clicked the shutter. “That looks good,” he said, squinting at the tiny screen on the back of the camera.

  “Are we both smiling?” she asked. “Take another one, just to be sure.” Stella hugged my arm. “This is gonna be great. I’ll send you the print and you can sign it to me. Make sure you use permanent ink, right?”

  “I’ll remember.”

  “Now, don’t forget to give me your address.”

  “I won’t forget,” I said.

  “Cookie, shut up so I can take the picture.”

  Stella tilted her head toward mine and gave the camera a perky smile.

  “That’s it,” Jimbo said, turning a dial so he could view what he’d captured.

  “Let me see,” Stella said. She leaned against his arm, then pulled the camera out of his hands. “Look, Jessica. Don’t we look nice?”

  I put on my reading glasses to peer at the screen. “That looks like a good one,” I said.

  “Can I see?” Grady asked, peeking over my shoulder.

  After the meeting emptied out, the four of us had lingered in the agency’s conference room. Stella had prevailed upon me not to leave until Jimbo could take our picture together.

  “That’s a great shot of you guys, Aunt Jess.”

  Jimbo smiled. “I’ll have extra copies made so you can have one, Grady.”

  “Thanks! By the way, what kind of camera is that?”

  “I just got it,” Jimbo said, taking the camera back from Stella. “It’s a new Japanese model. Does video, too. Lots of bells and whistles. Comes with three different lenses.”

  “Men and their paraphernalia!” Stella said, rolling her eyes. “I swear, if it has a wheel or a speaker or a dial or a cartridge, they just love it. My Homer’s no different. The surround sound in our media room back home could blow you out of your seat. Me, I’m a down-home girl. I like things simple. If it has too many buttons, I’m not interested—unless it’s a dress.”

  “Does that preference extend to kitchen appliances as well?” I asked, thinking a professional chef must have a pretty fancy supply of tools, too.

  “Now, there I might make an exception,” she said with a grin. “But only for a high-end fridge or stove. I’m just not good with technology. Computers! You can keep ’em. Lucky for me, my specialty is barbecue, and for that, a spicy marinade and a hot fire can take you pretty far. Look where it took me!” She struck a pose and laughed.

  “That’s some camera he’s got,” Grady said, coming over to us.

  “Just so’s it don’t catch my extra chin,” Stella said, patting the back of her hand under her jaw.

  “You looked lovely to me,” I said.

  “You’re gonna be my new best friend.”

  Grady glanced at his watch. “Ready to go, Aunt Jess? I have to get back to the office.”

  “Wait, Jessica,” Stella said, settling a large tote bag on the conference table. “Tell me where you’re staying and I’ll get Jimbo to send the pictures over soon as they’re ready.”

  I gave her the name of my hotel, but suggested that she send the prints to Cabot Cove instead, or wait until I returned. “I hadn’t planned on staying in New York through next week,” I said as I printed my address on a card. “I have to go home this weekend to tie up some loose ends, but I’ll be back in time for the shoot. I’m not sure at the moment where I’ll be staying when I return.”

  “Our door’s always open,” Grady said.

  “I know, dear, and I appreciate that.”

  I’d decided it was too hard on the pocketbook, never mind the psyche, simply to stay in my dollhouse-sized hotel room for another week. While the bed was everything that had been promised—and I’d slept very well—it was impossible to relax in the room during the time I wasn’t under the covers. I’d tried taking my book downstairs to the hotel lounge, but the lighting was dim, and the noise level much too high to concentrate on reading.

  In addition, all the business meetings I’d arranged during my visit would be concluded by the end of the next day, and as I’d been originally schedule
d to fly home Friday night, I made up my mind to keep to the plan. I’d decided that when I came back from Cabot Cove, it would be to another hotel, or Frank’s room at Grady and Donna’s apartment. They were urging me to bunk with them, and I was leaning in that direction.

  “Jimbo and I are over at the Waldorf-Astoria,” Stella said, tucking my card in her wallet and fishing out one of her own. “Not together, of course. His wife would kill me if she even heard me talking about it—she’s one of my oldest friends—to say nothing of what my Homer would do. He’s jealous of every man I talk with. We could have stayed at the Plaza; I hear it’s opened again after the renovations. But it was easier to stay at the Waldorf, what with Permezzo paying for the nights when we’re doing the shoot.”

  “They are?”

  “They do that for all the talent, Aunt Jess.”

  “Well, for goodness’ sakes, Grady. Why didn’t you say something?”

  “Gee, Aunt Jess, I guess I forgot.”

  “Tripper lives here in New York, but Sevenson is also staying at the Waldorf,” Stella said, making a face. “Not that I want anything to do with either of them. Did you ever see such a pair of egos? Him with his assistant writing down everything he says, as if pearls of wisdom could ever drip from those lips. You should have heard Betsy take that little girl over the coals before you arrived.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “Does she need a reason? She’s not the sweetest cube in the sugar bowl, let me tell you. Told little Lena she should be ashamed to degrade herself working with that charlatan. That’s the word she used, ‘charlatan.’ Told her that if she had any brains, she would get a ‘real’ job instead of following around that phony like a sick puppy. I thought Lena was going to cry, but she didn’t. Raised her chin and walked away. Didn’t defend herself or nothin’, just walked away.”

  “Good for her,” I said. “You can’t argue with someone when they’re being rude or calling names like that. The best thing to do is not to give them the satisfaction of a response.”

  “That’s what I tell Frank, too, Aunt Jess,” Grady said. “Sometimes some kid will tease him at school. I tell him, ‘Don’t get into a fight. Just walk away.’ ”

  “Well, Lena did just that, didn’t give Betsy the satisfaction of a response. ’Course, that wouldn’t have been the reaction of Miss Nasty Mouth, you can bet on that. She would have made it a knock-down, drag-out fight. I kinda cotton to that idea. Wouldn’t you just love to see them two go at it?”

  “Who do you mean?” Grady asked.

  “Now, don’t look at me like that, Jessica,” Stella said, ignoring Grady. “You can’t tell me you ever heard a nice word from Anne Tripper.”

  “Hoo boy, she’s a tough one, all right,” Grady said.

  “I didn’t have much of a conversation with her,” I said.

  “Well, consider yourself lucky,” she said. “Doesn’t even open her gift. Can you imagine? I worked too hard in my life to turn up my nose at twenty-five thousand dollars. Right, Jimbo?”

  Jimbo nodded as he snapped closed the latches on his briefcase.

  Stella turned to me. “Get Betsy Archibald to put you up at the Waldorf, Jessica. That way we can go to the set together in the morning.”

  “I’ll certainly ask about it,” I said.

  “Station one to station two, do you hear me? Come in.”

  There was a crackle of static and then a reply. “Station one, I hear you.”

  “Where are you now, station two? Come in.”

  “I’m in the bedroom.”

  “It works!” Frank said into the two-way radio as he ran down the hall of the apartment into his parents’ bedroom. “Now we have to go up to your house,” I heard him say.

  “What’s he up to?” I asked Grady as I slipped off my jacket. We were going out to dinner together—my treat—and I’d come over to the apartment while we waited for Donna to arrive home.

  “They’re trying out a set of walkie-talkies that Michele got for his birthday,” Grady said, hanging my jacket on a hook in the hall closet.

  “Sounds like they’re working just fine.”

  “They should. They’re supposed to be long-range. I thought all the metal in the building would have an effect, but it doesn’t seem to be interfering.”

  Frank bounced down the hall and jumped in front of me. “Aunt Jessica, look what Michele got.” He held up the two-way radio receiver. “We’re testing how far away it can work.”

  “I see,” I said.

  Frank waved the receiver in front of me. “Want to talk to Michele?”

  “Where is Michele?” I asked.

  “He’s right here,” Frank said, skipping back down the hall yelling his friend’s name.

  “Take it easy, sport. He’s not deaf.” Grady shook his head. “Lucky we live on the first floor. I’d pity anyone who had an apartment beneath ours.”

  “Come on,” Frank said, gesturing to a boy behind him. “She’s nice. I told you about her.”

  Michele, who was half a foot taller than Frank, shyly followed him to meet me. Dressed in jeans and an Aerosmith T-shirt, with his iPod wire dangling from a pocket, he moved slowly, brown eyes watching me warily.

  “Hello, Michele,” I said, smiling. “Frank has told me so much about you. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  As if I’d made a joke, Michele threw back his head and laughed.

  “See? I told you,” Frank said to him, holding up his hand for a high five.

  The boys slapped their palms together. Then Michele stepped forward and gave me a hug.

  “My goodness!” I said, hugging him back. “What did I do to deserve this?”

  “Michele always knows when people are good,” Frank said. “He can tell just by looking at them. He’s got a fifth sense.”

  “Sixth sense,” Grady corrected. He clapped his hands. “Okay, boys, on your way. Aunt Jess needs some quiet time.” He turned to me and waggled his eyebrows. “I’m going to fix you my special concoction.”

  “What concoction is that?” I asked as the boys whooped and thundered back to the bedroom.

  “I call it the Fletcherita,” he said dramatically, going into the kitchen, opening a cabinet door, and taking down three glasses.

  “Is that related to the margarita?”

  “Fourth cousin, once removed.”

  “Well, this should be interesting,” I said, shaking my head.

  By the time Donna returned home, the boys were upstairs in Michele’s apartment, and Grady and I were deep in conversation about the afternoon’s proceedings, our Fletcheritas half-consumed.

  “You would not believe the lines at Whole Foods,” she said, handing off two shopping bags to Grady. “You’d think they were giving away the food instead of charging top price for it.”

  While Grady emptied the contents of the bags into the refrigerator and the cupboards, Donna hung up her coat and greeted me. “How did the meeting go?” she asked, sinking down on the sofa.

  “Good, I think. They’re a bit of an odd group, but I’m sure it will go well.”

  “Tell me about Anne Tripper. She says the most awful things on television. Is she that mean in person?”

  “We didn’t speak for long,” I said, reluctant to criticize a colleague, although in truth I hadn’t found her the most pleasant person. “Stella Bedford was very friendly. In fact, she insisted we take a photograph together. She’s going to send a print to me, and her manager promised Grady a copy, too. I’ll ask her to autograph it for you.”

  “That would be great,” Donna said. She raised her voice to be heard in the kitchen. “Speaking of Grady, I see Mr. Fletcher has been making his special concoction.”

  “And I didn’t forget you,” Grady said, bringing a glass for Donna into the living room.

  I waited until he was seated next to his wife to ask, “Grady, did you ever speak with Daniel Howerstein?” I turned to Donna. “The producer asked him to call.”

  Grady laughed. “He didn’
t actually ask,” he said. “He passed me a note, like we were in high school, telling me to call him this afternoon. He’s a tough man to reach, but I finally got through on my way home.”

  “What did he want?” Donna asked.

  “Strange. He just got back from working on a shoot in California, and he said his crew didn’t get paid on time. California has a law requiring that the production company pay the crew at the same time they pay their office staff. If not, the production company, in this case Eye Screen, can get fined.”

  “Who’s supposed to pay them?” I asked.

  “We are,” Grady said. “That’s why companies use payroll services. Big production companies like Howerstein’s shoot all over the world. That’s complicated enough. They don’t want to have to contend with all the different regulations in every state or country. With us, they don’t have to. They just give us the time cards for the crew. We do all the processing, make sure to account for pension and welfare, and whatever other requirements there are, and write the checks. Of course, we don’t send them out until Eye Screen sends us the money to cover the payroll.”

  “Did they forget to do that?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Grady said, downing the last of his Fletcherita, “but I’ll look into it tomorrow. Are you ladies ready to go to dinner?”

  Grady had made a show of seeming unconcerned, but there was something in his expression that told me the news was worrisome to him.

  “I’m ready,” Donna said, putting down her drink. “Where’s Frank?”

  “The boys are upstairs,” Grady said. “Mary invited Frank to stay for dinner, and I said all right. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “As long as Aunt Jessica is okay with it.” She cocked her head at me.

  “He was so excited to have dinner there, I didn’t want to spoil his fun. I’ll be back next week and we can spend a little time together then. Grady’s going to bring him to the set.”

  “I know. Frank’s been telling everyone,” she said. “He can’t wait.”

  “I hope he won’t be bored,” I said.

  “I don’t care if he is,” said Grady. “I like the idea that he’ll get to see how a commercial is made.”