“Well, in your defense, she had that effect on a lot of people.”
“Oh, right, your husband,” he stammered. “I am so sorry about all of that. I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject. I just—”
Kate stopped him with a raised hand. “Enough, Jerry. There is nothing to be sorry about. There is no sore subject. I mean, look how well this has all turned out, right?”
“Wow, you really are handling this incredibly well. Michael was right.”
“What?” Kate managed, even though time had seemed to stop and she was having trouble taking a full breath.
“I said Michael was right about you. It was his idea to bring you back on as a producer. To be completely honest with you, I thought he was crazy. No offense.”
“None taken,” said Kate, offended but not wanting to stop the flow of what Jerry was saying. “Go on…”
“Oh, okay. Well, when Sapphire quit, she obviously left us in a bit of a jam, and Michael called me just as I was trying to figure out how I could possibly lure you back. He suggested that you might be tempted with a position that wielded a little more power and control.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. He also said that you were smarter than you had been given credit for around here and that you were being sorely underutilized.”
“Wow,” said Kate, stunned.
“That’s exactly what I said. I mean, I didn’t even know you guys knew each other, and here he is pitching his ass off for you. I gotta say, though, so far he has been right on. Obviously, it’s only your first day, but everyone was very impressed with you in the production meeting. I have a very good feeling about this.”
“Thank you, Jerry,” said Kate, spontaneously pulling him into a hug. “I have a very good feeling, too.”
“Oh, well, okay,” sputtered Jerry, the public display of affection bringing him back to his old flustered self. “Well, uh, I think we should get on with this meeting, don’t you?”
After one more torturous squeeze Kate released him and said, “Yes, let’s get on with our meeting. And let’s make it quick, okay? I have to get home and make a phone call.”
39
Kate and Paige sat across from each other at the kitchen table, the phone between them.
“Call him,” said Paige.
“I’m scared,” whimpered Kate.
“Well, snap out of it!” said Paige, pretending to wind up for a slap.
“Are you doing an impression of Cher from Moonstruck? Is that how you’re going to help me?”
“No, I am going to slap you into action. The Cher bit was just to distract you while I wind up for the big finish.”
“You’re crazy.”
“No, you’re crazy if you don’t call Michael right now.”
“You’re right,” said Kate, getting as far as placing her hand on the phone. She paused. “I can’t pick it up. What is wrong with me?”
“You’re just scared. Do you need a Snickers bar?”
“Why would I need a Snickers bar?”
“Well, I don’t have any alcohol in the house, and sugar always calms my nerves.”
“No. You think sugar calms you, but in reality it turns you into a speed-talking lunatic.”
“Okay, I can’t really argue with that,” admitted Paige. “Do you want one?”
“No. I don’t want to sound like Minnie Mouse on crack when I call Michael, thank you very much. I want to sound like a Zen master.”
“How about you just try to sound like you?”
Kate rolled her eyes. “How about you try to stop sounding like a bad self-help infomercial?”
“How about you try to stop yelling at me and call Michael?”
“Touché,” said Kate, beaten. She took three deep breaths and picked up the phone. She got through calling information and getting the number for the BAM agency without passing out, which she and Paige took as a good sign. She let out a brief, tension-relieving scream, then dialed the number and asked the receptionist to connect her to Michael Frankel.
“I’m sorry. He no longer works here.”
“What?” asked Kate.
“What what?” whispered Paige.
Kate held up a finger and mouthed, Hold on. “Do you know where he works now?” She hit the speaker button and the receptionist’s voice carried into the room.
“I’m not allowed to give out that information, ma’am.”
“Can you tell me how to reach him?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, I can’t help you. Have a good day.” The dial tone vibrated throughout the kitchen.
“Shit,” said Paige, hitting the off button.
“Yeah,” said Kate. “Shit.”
“Do you have his home phone number?”
“No.”
“His cell?”
“No.”
“His fax?”
Kate stared at Paige. “Yes, Paige, he hid his home and cell phone numbers from me because he prefers to communicate solely by the new technology of what we like to call the ‘Facsimile machine.’”
“Well, you don’t need to get all snippy with me,” pouted Paige.
“I’m sorry. I’m just so disappointed. I finally got my nerve up to call him and he’s not even fucking there!”
“You know what you need, my snippy friend?”
“What?” asked Kate, her bottom lip thrust out in the universal sign for self-pity.
“You need a cup of coffee.”
“Coffee?” she snapped. “I hardly need caffeine. The last thing in the world I need is—”
“A cup of coffee from the Starbucks in the Pacific Palisades?”
Kate let out a long “Oooooooooooooh!” as recognition dawned. “The Starbucks in the Palisades.”
“Exactly,” said Paige. “Shall I drive?”
“Yes, you shall,” answered Kate, gathering her purse and doing a quick check in the mirror. “And drive quickly, please.”
Michael sat at his computer, staring at a blank screen. Clearly, his right brain had called his left brain and told it that he had quit his job in a fit of misplaced integrity, thus successfully driving his creativity into hiding until he faced reality and got a real job again.
I won’t do it, he told his right brain.
You have to. We’ll starve, it answered.
So be it, Michael said firmly.
You’re bluffing.
Try me.
I won’t let you write, said his right brain, joining the conversation.
Really? he asked.
Really, it said confidently.
Well, then, how do you explain the fact that I am writing right now?
Curses! said his right brain.
“Ha ha!” he said aloud, relishing his victory over his own self-doubt.
“That is the worst fake laugh I’ve ever heard,” said a voice behind him.
“I’m sorry. I tend to talk—”
“Out loud sometimes when you write? I know.”
Time stopped for Michael. Could that really be Kate’s voice? He desperately wanted to turn around and see if it was her, but he didn’t know if he could stand the disappointment if it wasn’t. Suddenly, she was in front of him, the vision of an angel.
“Hello, Michael,” she said simply.
“Kate,” he answered breathlessly, standing up so quickly that he knocked over his coffee, eliciting a “Damn it!” from his angry neighbor whose shoes got splashed. “Oh, shit, sorry,” Michael sputtered. “Stay right there!” he told Kate firmly, adding, “Please?” as he ran to the condiment station to grab a handful of napkins, which he promptly threw at the lady with the damp shoes before planting himself in front of Kate. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“It didn’t even touch me,” said Kate, gesturing to her dry feet.
“What?” asked Michael, confused.
“The coffee. It didn’t get on me.”
“The coffee? No, I wasn’t saying I was sorry about the coffee. I mean, I am sorry about that, too, but—” He stopp
ed abruptly in the middle of his nervous rant. He inhaled deeply, gently took both of Kate’s hands in his, and looked her square in the eye. “I am sorry about spilling coffee near you.” He almost melted when she smiled up at him but forced himself to continue. “But what I am really, deeply sorry about is lying to you. I don’t know if it matters to you anymore, but I really am a full-time writer now, with no discernible income.”
“No discernible income? That’s your pitch?” asked Kate, grinning.
“Well, I do have interest income from the many years I spent selling my soul to the devil for a few gold coins—”
“Shhhh,” whispered Kate, holding a finger up to his lips. “You had me at ‘no income.’”
Michael smiled behind her finger and then reached up to pull her hand away. “I just can’t believe you’re here.”
“Well, you know, a girl needs her coffee.”
“Thank God for that,” he whispered, tracing her cheek with his finger before reaching around to the back of her neck and pulling her face to his. When their lips were less than an inch apart he paused and asked, “You do know you’re coming home with me today, don’t you?” Kate managed a tiny nod before Michael’s mouth was on hers, his lips warm, dry, and soft. The crowded coffeehouse was all but forgotten as Kate melted into Michael’s embrace, losing herself in the wonderful solidity of his strong chest and arms and the gentle exploration of his tongue.
“Gross,” said Paige from her vantage point across the room, but her smile and the tears in her eyes exposed her for the sappy romantic she really was.
Acknowledgments
This book was a true labor of love, born out of the support of an amazing group of women. To Mary, Jean, Liz, Piper, and Chris: your keen interest in reading pages as quickly as I could write them motivated and inspired me. What you all lack in objectivity, you more than made up for in exaggerated enthusiasm. As for my mom’s and my sister’s endless protestations that their positive criticisms were completely unbiased: I didn’t believe it for a second, although I thoroughly enjoyed every bit of inflated affirmation. I am beyond blessed to be surrounded by so much love from such smart, funny, loving women. And to my niece, Cassie, thank you for inspiring me with your own brilliantly funny stories.
Dad, thank you for your support and for bragging about your “daughter the author” to all who would listen. I expect very high sales numbers in Portola Valley.
I really need to thank my longtime theatrical agent, Joel Rudnick, for not laughing (at least not in front of me) at me when I told him I was writing a novel, and for introducing me to my wonderful literary agent, Lydia Wills. Lydia, your enthusiasm motivated me to keep writing, and your thoughtful notes on the pages I sent you kept me on track.
I am grateful to everyone at Broadway Books. Bill Thomas and Steve Rubin, I can never thank you enough for buying my manuscript based on a few pages and what must have been gut instinct. It would be impossible to say enough good things about my editor, Ann Campbell. Ann, you made me believe in myself as a writer, and your careful, insightful editing challenged and inspired me. Outside In is a much better book thanks to you. Laura Lee Mattingly, thank you for always being a friendly voice on the other end of the phone, and for being efficient and professional to boot. I also want to thank Michael Windsor for including me so graciously in the design of the cover art, and Susan Buckheit for her careful copy editing.
Thanks also need to go out to my longtime publicist, Jim Broutman, for his commitment and hard work in creating awareness for Outside In. Also, to the publicity and marketing teams at Broadway: David Drake, Tammy Blake, Andrea O’Brien, Julia Coblentz, and Julie Sills—I have felt your belief in my book from day one and I thank you for all of your hard work.
And finally, to my husband, Roger: it is no coincidence that I found the confidence to commit to my lifelong dream of writing a novel soon after meeting you. Your belief in me made me believe in myself. Thank you.
PUBLISHED BY BROADWAY BOOKS
Copyright © 2007 by Ernest, Inc.
All Rights Reserved
Published in the United States by Broadway Books, an imprint of The Doubleday Broadway Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
www.broadwaybooks.com
BROADWAY BOOKS and its logo, a letter B bisected on the diagonal, are trademarks of Random House, Inc.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Thorne-Smith, Courtney.
Outside in / Courtney Thorne-Smith.—1st ed.
p. cm.
1. Actresses—Fiction. 2. Fame—Fiction. 3. Hollywood (Los Angeles, Calif.)—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3620.H77O87 2007
813'.6—dc22
2007008244
eISBN: 978-0-7679-2851-9
v3.0
Outside In Page 26