Outside In

by Courtney Thorne-Smith

  Michael stared at Sapphire, hoping for any sign of irony. Finding none, he said, “Norman knows this for a fact, does he?”

  “Yes,” she continued. “He checked with his spirit guides and they told him that, in a way, we have always been together. You know, like Antony and Cleopatra.”

  Michael turned to Hamilton, who was gazing at Sapphire with undisguised affection. “I’m not sure how much I really buy into all of this reincarnation stuff,” he said to Michael, “but truth be told I have always felt a real connection to Mark Antony. Norman also mentioned that our past lives may have included King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba and, most important, Laurence Olivier and Vivien Leigh.”

  Sapphire loudly swallowed a chunk of muffin. “Isn’t that incredible?”

  “Right…incredible,” said Michael. “Although in the case of Olivier and Leigh, I believe they were still alive when both of you were born.”

  Sapphire looked at him blankly. “So?”

  “Well, my point is…” Michael began, but he soon realized that any attempt to interject logic or reason into this conversation would probably only prolong his misery. “My point is, we should get down to business. Is there something specific—and work related—you wanted to discuss this morning?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, there is,” said Hamilton, snapping to attention. “Sapphire mentioned that you have been working on a deal with Bob Steinman over at Cutting Edge Pictures for her to star in a Vivien Leigh biopic. We think this is very exciting news.”

  Oh no. “Oh…yes…very exciting,” Michael hedged.

  “Obviously, we feel that this is a part Sapphire was born to play.”

  “Well, reborn to play,” Michael said dryly.

  “Exactly,” said Hamilton, moving over to stand next to Sapphire, who had gobbled up the last of her muffin and was now meticulously sucking the remnants from the cellophane wrapper. “Can’t you just see it? Our famous beauty playing England’s famous beauty?” Sapphire looked up and smiled, revealing a blueberry stuck to one of her incisors.

  “Oh, well, I hope that Sapphire told you that this project is still in the, uh, beginning stages,” Michael said. “Very beginning.”

  “Yes, I understand that, which is why I think it’s the perfect time for me to get involved. So here is my question for you: what do you see as our next step? I think we need to look at this as a hiatus project, which means we have got to get cracking. Should I just go ahead and give Bobby a call?”

  Knowing that Bob Steinman’s biggest pet peeve was being called “Bobby,” Michael was tempted to say yes, just so that he could listen in on the other line while Hamilton got ripped to shreds by the famously short-tempered and hypersensitive studio head. The knowledge that he would be shredded next, however, reduced the humor value of that stunt quite a bit. “You know, Hamilton, I completely appreciate that you both want to get moving on this right away, but I really think it’s best for me to handle this on my own for the moment. I don’t know how much Sapphire told you, but the whole project is very hush-hush. I wasn’t even supposed to tell her yet.”

  “Yes, she did tell me it was a secret, but you should know going forward, Michael, that she and I don’t keep confidences from each other.”

  “Right, gotcha…However, we do still need to have secrets with studio executives. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.” Hamilton stood up and walked to the door, signaling the end of their meeting. “So, unless you have news sooner, we’ll revisit this next Monday, six a.m.?”

  “Yes, I look forward to it,” said Michael, trying to catch a glimpse out the window as he headed to the door to make sure that Kate wasn’t nearby to witness his exit. “Can I ask you one thing?” he asked Hamilton sotto voce, so Sapphire couldn’t hear over the cellophane that crinkled as she unwrapped another muffin.

  “Sure.”

  “How is your wife with…all of this?”

  “You mean Kate?”

  Michael held back the urge to slug him in the face on Kate’s behalf. “Yes, Kate. Your wife.”

  “Well, Michael, Kate’s a trouper. I really think, on some level, she can see that Sapphire and I are destined to be together. You know, everyone loves a great love story.”

  “Antgjrim anldk Cliohtllkfdd,” added Sapphire from the muffin corner.

  “That’s right, honey, Antony and Cleopatra.”

  More like Judas and Benedict Arnold, thought Michael, glad to be leaving the happy couple—and any guilt he had about his feelings for Kate—behind.

  21

  Paige stood facing Kate with her arms crossed, a stern expression on her face.

  “What?” Kate asked, hoping to deter Paige with a bitchy tone.

  “Don’t use that tone with me.” Damn it. “You are going to tell me what is going on and you are going to tell me right now.”

  “Why bother? I’m sure you’ll read all about it in the tabloids tomorrow, complete with pictures of the happy couple.”

  Paige looked at Kate for a moment, then said quietly, “Is that what you want? You want me to read about it in the tabloids? Good to know that I rate right up there with all of the people who have never even met you.” She turned away and began setting up her workstation, slowly laying out products and makeup brushes on the counter in front of the mirror.

  “That’s not what I meant,” said Kate, surprised to see the impact on Paige.

  “No?” Paige turned to face her. “What did you mean?”

  “I don’t know.” Kate felt the last of her fight drain out of her and she began to cry. “I really don’t know. I didn’t mean to hurt you, of all people. I am so sorry.”

  “Oh, get over here, you poor thing.” Paige held her arms out to Kate, who shuffled over and melted into her warm embrace. “I think I can forgive you some bratty behavior on the morning that your husband shows up holding hands with the Antichrist.” Kate managed a small snort-laugh into Paige’s shoulder. “I do want it clear, though: I am not asking you what is going on in order to have a titillating story to tell at my next cocktail party, okay? And that isn’t just because I don’t go to cocktail parties. I am asking because I care about you and I am worried about you. Get it?” Kate nodded without raising her head, and Paige shuffle-danced the two of them over to a chair and gently disentangled them, sitting Kate down and squatting in front of her so that they were eye to eye. “Now, do you think it would help you to talk things over with a friend?” Kate nodded again, keeping her eyes down. “You do realize that an important aspect of talking is the talking, right?”

  “I know,” said Kate into her own chest. “It just seems like if you were really my friend, you could read my mind.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yes, and bring me Bon Bons and candy necklaces.”

  “So we have mind reading, ice cream, and candy. What are you, nine years old?”

  “I wish I felt nine years old. That would be almost double digits. That would rock.”

  Paige was happy to see Kate smile, but she was determined to keep her on track. “Are you ready to talk now?”

  “Are they going to call me to set any minute?”

  “No, Sapphire has some sort of private meeting so they’re pushing crew call. I guess no one called you, which is just par for the fucked-up course around here.”

  “No, they may have called me. I wasn’t home. I’m staying at my mother’s.” Paige’s gasp was so intense and sincere that both women burst out laughing.

  “You’re what?”

  “I know, I know…but it was either that or spooning with Hamilton and Sapphire.”

  “Even so,” said Paige, holding her palms up in an “all things being equal” gesture.

  “Yeah, you’re right. That spooning is looking better and better.”

  “Okay, as much as I love the image of you sandwiched in between those two lunatics, I still don’t know what actually happened. I’ve just been watching you disappear before my eyes—literally and figuratively—and now you are liv
ing with your mother and your husband is walking the evil head cheerleader to school in the morning. What happened?”

  Kate took a deep breath and began to tell her story. She found that once she started she didn’t want to stop. Paige listened intently, nodding, gasping, and laughing in all the right places. She even cried with her a couple of times. Whenever Kate got to an especially shameful part of her story, Paige would chime in with an “Oh god, I have so been there” and Kate would find the courage to go on. By the end, Kate was searching her memory for the most humiliating moments, partly for the sheer pleasure of watching Paige shriek with laughter, but mostly for the profound relief she felt when Paige would offer up her own examples of the many times that she had abandoned herself for a man, for a drink, or simply because she didn’t know any other way. When Kate confessed that she had allowed herself to be kicked out of her own house without a fight, Paige said, “Oh, honey, that’s nothing. I once spent my last dime on a car for an old boyfriend, and the very next day he put my best friend in the front seat and my dog in the backseat and drove away. I was pretty drunk at the time, so I don’t remember a lot of the details, but I am pretty sure I packed them a picnic lunch.”

  When her articulate, confident friend went on to admit that she had always felt as if she were stupid, Kate was floored. Paige was less surprised by Kate’s admission that, in spite of her current low weight, she still feared that she looked fat. Paige’s own early struggles with body-image issues had taught her how difficult it can be to see your own body realistically, but she approached this sensitive issue the way she did all others—with merciless, albeit loving, teasing. “Fat compared to whom?” Paige asked. “An extraordinarily thin broomstick?” Kate couldn’t believe that she was not only telling her deepest, darkest secrets, but that she was laughing about them. She had never known such freedom. When Sam came in two hours after her scheduled call time, expecting to see a distraught Kate and an annoyed Paige, he walked in on two women bent over double with tears of laughter running down their cheeks.

  “Ladies,” he said, because he really had no idea what to say.

  Kate and Paige both looked up at him at once, exposing red eyes and even redder faces. “How long have you been standing there?” Paige asked.

  “I just got here,” he answered. “Why?”

  “No reason,” managed Kate before collapsing again into a fit of giggles.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing,” said Paige, although she was clearly having trouble keeping a straight face. She gestured toward Kate. “She is just very immature. I think it’s the extra weight.” Kate’s tiny frame was now helpless with laughter, sliding along the edge of the cupboard on which she had been leaning until she was sitting on the floor clutching her aching sides.

  “Oh…shut…up…stupid,” she barely managed to choke out, triggering a laughing fit for Paige that soon had her joining Kate on the floor, leaving Sam feeling even more confused. And more than a little envious of all of the fun they were having.

  “Well,” he began, not sure if they could even hear him through their mirth, “I came in to tell you ladies that there has been a change of schedule.”

  “Oh fuck,” said Kate. The two women froze, their laughter coming to an abrupt halt as they each took in the other’s disheveled appearance. Paige turned to Sam.

  “Please tell me they are not ready for her.”

  “Oh god, no. They’re sending you both home. There’s a problem with the permits for the location today and we can’t do your scene. We have no idea what we are going to shoot, just that it won’t involve you.”

  Kate felt as if she had won the lottery. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes,” said Sam. “I know it sucks that you had to come all the way out here just to be sent home, but—”

  “Sam,” interrupted Kate, “I don’t want you to waste one minute of your life worrying about it. I have just had one of the best mornings of my life.”

  “And one of the worst,” added Paige.

  “Thank you so much for reminding me.”

  “That’s what friends are for,” trilled Paige happily.

  “You are not a well woman,” laughed Kate.

  “That,” said Paige earnestly, “is very true. However, I am extraordinarily attractive in an offbeat sort of way. Wouldn’t you say so, Sam?”

  Sam, surprised at being suddenly pulled into their strange banter, managed a clumsy “Yes, Paige, you are very attractive” before making a hasty exit.

  “You scared him,” giggled Kate.

  “Yes,” Paige said with a sigh. “I have that effect on most men. It’s my stunning beauty. Or my shelf of dog-eared self-help books. I may never know.”

  “Hey,” said Kate, taking in a deep, steadying breath in preparation for what felt like a huge emotional risk, “do you want to go grab breakfast or something?”

  “That depends,” said Paige thoughtfully.

  “On what?” Kate asked, readied for rejection.

  “On whether you are going to actually eat with me, or if you plan on sitting across from me daintily sipping lemon water and picking at a dry house salad while I tuck into a huge omelet.”

  Kate knew she’d just gotten nailed, and she had never felt more loved. “I promise to eat with you.”

  “Good,” said Paige softly. “Then I would love to go to breakfast with you.”

  “Great,” said Kate, relieved.

  “Yes, you are,” said Paige, and the two women gathered their things and headed out.

  22

  Michael tried to plot his next move as he drove. What he really wanted to do was head out to the Palisades and write on his computer while he hoped for a Kate sighting. But since he had just seen her on the Generations set and his cell phone was already ringing off the hook with business calls, he decided to bite the bullet and go straight into the office. He really had to figure out how to handle this Bob Steinman situation. It was possible that Bob was trying to reach him at this very moment to pitch him an idea about a Vivien Leigh movie for his client Sapphire Rose. Of course, it would be difficult to answer the phone, what with all of the pigs flying out of his ass.

  In truth, it wasn’t a terrible idea. Vivien Leigh had lived a fascinating life, full of drama, romance, and the pain of mental illness. It was a story that begged to be told, and Michael had a client who was begging to tell it. He knew that Sapphire saw this as her Academy Award picture, the role that would put her back on top…or at least back into the movie-star section at the Golden Globes. He also knew that she might be right and that was exactly what was making him feel so conflicted. He was so disgusted with her right now, so angry about what she and Hamilton were doing to Kate, that it was difficult to get excited about helping to make her self-centered dreams come true. Although you could also say that their astounding self-centeredness had actually created an opportunity for him to make his dream come true. Kate was devastated, true, but she was also available. Really, outside of being forced to witness her soon-to-be ex-husband canoodling with Sapphire at work, her life was probably better than it was before.

  And soon, thought Michael, she will be making out with her writer boyfriend at the corner table in Starbucks—coffee breath be damned!

  When he remembered how hurt she had looked this morning when she saw Hamilton and Sapphire holding hands, however, Michael realized he would need to take things slowly. He needed to get her away from them so that she could heal. He told himself that he wanted to help her because he was a generous man, but he knew that desire was playing at least as large a role as goodwill. Well, many good deeds had been done in the name of ego—why not testosterone? He and Kate could do all sorts of good deeds together, they could go to benefits together, donate money to worthy causes, even work in a soup kitchen or two…right after he got her naked. The point was that there would be plenty of time for changing the world and making out. But first, he had to deal with Sapphire.

  If he could get her a deal with Cut
ting Edge Pictures to film a movie in, say, Prague for six months, that might really help Kate. If he could put Sapphire in a hotel with no phone or Internet access, it would make his life a lot easier, too. Maybe if she really liked it there, she would move there full-time and spend her days eating borscht and drinking vodka—or was that Russia? Either way, it was halfway around the world, and Michael was going for distance, not accuracy. What if he told her about all of the great writers who had come out of Eastern Europe? Sapphire fancied herself a writer now—maybe she would move there in the hopes of finding her muse. Of course, Michael remembered, Sapphire had already found her muse, and her name was Joan/Jane. Knowing Sapphire, she would probably just send her poor ghostwriter to freeze in a cheap pension while waiting for Sapphire to e-mail her an occasional inane comment that Joan/Jane was supposed to transform into a Pulitzer Prize–winning novel.

  He suddenly hoped that his delusional client wouldn’t decide that she wanted to “write” her own screenplay. So far, Emma Thompson was the only writer/actor that Sapphire was aware of, and because she hadn’t approved of Emma’s Academy Award dress, she thankfully had no interest in emulating her. Michael wasn’t even sure if Sapphire had heard that Miss Thompson had won an Oscar for adapting Sense and Sensibility, since her limited attention span was usually reserved for the acting and directing honors. He knew for a fact she hadn’t seen Good Will Hunting. Too much math.

  So if he could keep her out of trouble and away from a type-writer—or BlackBerry—for the next few weeks, he just might have a shot at pulling this thing together. It was true that Sapphire would be a hard sell for the lead role in a movie, but if this thing with Hamilton hit the press as hard as Michael thought it would, maybe they could ride the wave of publicity all the way to a deal. The public loved to hate Sapphire, and he had faith that they would hate her even more when they found out that she had stolen “that sweet Kate Keyes-Morgan’s husband right out from under her.” Even if audiences just went to the movie to throw popcorn at her image on the screen, the studio would be virtually guaranteed a big opening weekend, and that was what Bob Steinman cared about most. And if the movie turned out, by some miracle, to be good, and if Sapphire was good in it, then the audience would get to watch something it enjoyed almost as much as witnessing a tragic fall from grace—a triumphant comeback. Then the people who had shaken their heads, saying to their friends,