“I have poor choice in men,” Maddy admitted. “My dating resume lists my attributes as: used to being dumped and double-crossed. If this pitch doesn’t work, maybe I could become an Avenger. Blue Rule seems just my type. He’s hot in a scowling, put-upon kind of way.”
“You are so not his type. You have moral fiber and a brain.” Vera’s eyebrows puckered with concern. “Are you sure you want to pursue this? You’re great with creating the pitch, but it’s presenting the proposal that bites you in the ass.”
What Maddy suffered from was this-is-crap-itis. She excelled at coming up with ideas. It was selling those ideas to someone else that made her skin heat, her deodorant fail, and her upper lip break out in a sweat.
Nerves, as lumpy and dry as a Saltine, stuck in her throat. With effort, Maddy swallowed them. “Aren’t you supposed to be my best friend? My rock? The one who tells me I can do anything? This is fate. I love the Rules of Attraction. I choose to make this project a success. I trust that this is what success feels like, in here.” She rubbed her chest over her heart, trying to capture how excited and confident she’d felt when the idea for the project had come to her. “And I will welcome my success like nobody’s business.”
“Okay, okay. Maybe you’re due.”
Maddy peered at her over her coffee cup. “You don’t think I can do it.”
“If you want this so bad, quit stalling and call Amber Rule. You said her phone number was on their website. Go leave a message at the beep. But don’t get upset if she doesn’t call you back right away. She got married yesterday.”
“I will.” Maddy sat there.
Staring.
At opportunity passing her by, leaving her stranded at her family’s dry cleaning business.
Vera sipped her coffee.
“I’m going to do it. Right now.” Maddy’s hands rested heavily, uselessly in her lap.
Vera kept sipping her coffee.
“Fine.” Maddy stood and stepped inside the apartment to dial. She stared at their lumpy navy couch and their scuffed second-hand coffee tables. She wanted to earn a living that allowed for upgrades and vacations. And yet, she didn’t call.
It’s just a pitch. She’d pitched before. But nothing as big and once-in-a-lifetime good as this.
A black and white picture of her grandfather hung on the wall. Army fatigues, camera about his neck, he stood grinning in front of a group of infantrymen on a ship headed back to the states. He’d risked his life chasing the dream of documenting the war. He would’ve shaken his head at her fears.
Drawing a deep breath, Maddy dialed.
Please, Poppa Bert, don’t let me suck.
“This is Amber Rule. Please leave a message at the beep.”
“Amber, this is Maddy Polk, reality show producer. I know your brother is the playboy the Playboy Avengers are after. I have an idea for a show that will spin this to your advantage. I see Blue giving each of those women relationship counseling, kind of like the Dooley Foundation’s version of Celebrity Rehab.” And then Maddy left her number.
She stared at her cell phone after she’d ended the call. Afraid to move. Afraid to breathe. “I did it.”
“I can’t believe it.” From the balcony, Vera looked at Maddy’s face. “Maybe you better sit down.”
“I pitched the idea.” Her feet had taken root in the carpet, but there must have been a strong Santa Ana wind blowing, because her upper body was swaying.
“Yes, you did.” Vera hurried over to steady her.
“Dave used to pitch everything. I used to sit and add color.”
“Dave’s a dick.”
She blinked at Vera. Steadfast, unshakable Vera, who wasn’t going to let her faint.
Maddy laughed. A real laugh this time.
“There’s no looking back now,” Vera said. “You’re a one woman show.”
Maddy nodded. She walked out to the balcony on heavy legs that collapsed when she reached her chair.
She and Vera sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking coffee, enjoying the moment.
And then Maddy’s cell phone rang.
L.A. Happenings by Lyle Lincoln
…The wedding of the season went off without a hitch. The bride looked fab. The groom and his men looked yummy. And rumor has it the Playboy Avengers made an appearance. Who can tell me more?
Chapter 3
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” Maddy sat on the edge of a sea green chair in Amber Rule’s luxurious Santa Monica office later that morning, fully expecting to be told to take a hike at any moment. Her pitch was a gamble. Maddy could have guessed wrong about Blue. And she was just now remembering that Amber Rule had some powerful friends in Hollywood that could blackball her quicker than you could say Mel Gibson.
Her pulse pounded as desperately as it had the first time she’d sat on Santa’s lap, hoping he’d say yes to her request – the talking underwater Little Mermaid doll.
She’d gotten a new sleeping bag that year instead. Her parents were nothing if not practical.
Maddy clung to her smile as if smiles and smiles alone would sell this idea. “You must receive a lot of reality show pitches.”
“Your pitch intrigued me,” Amber said dryly, picking up an engraved gold pen. She was beautiful, if shorter than Maddy expected. But all the curves she’d seen online and in the gossip magazines were in full evidence in Amber’s body-hugging track suit. Despite what most tabloids said about Amber rushing into marriage four weeks after her public proposal because she was pregnant, the woman had no baby bump. “And since I’m leaving on my honeymoon today, this was the only time I had available.”
That was Maddy’s cue to hurry up and pitch the details of her idea. If only she had more of the details worked out. “I…uh…My grandfather used to say a hammer and a good idea could have saved the Titanic.” Poppa Bert had a wealth of sayings. Unfortunately, blurting one out had Maddy looking like an untalented singer at an American Idol audition. “He meant – ”
“I understand.” Amber’s serene expression was reminiscent of her father’s patient smile as he explained how easy it was to make your dreams a reality.
He lied!
Dreams were almost impossibly hard to achieve. Maddy smoothed her unlined cotton skirt and tucked her buy-one-get-one-free black flats beneath her chair. She had no experience dealing with people like Amber Rule – polished, worldly, as unimpressed by the rich and famous as they were by regular people. But if she didn’t pull herself together, she might as well walk out that door now.
Across the desk, Amber cleared her throat. “Maybe – ”
“As I said on the phone.” Maddy lunged back into the conversation, ready to gamble on her hypothesis. “The Playboy Avengers exist because they’ve been dumped unceremoniously and sometimes publicly by your brother. It probably doesn’t help that they’re fringe celebs in need of some buzz.” Maddy opened her folio and withdrew several articles and gossip write-ups she’d printed out about Blue’s romantic history. “He’s left them on red carpets, in trendy bars, and once just before his girlfriend sky dived out of an airplane.” Inappropriate nervous laughter escaped. “Blue must really not have wanted to jump.”
“Your point,” Amber said coolly. “I need to be at L.A.X. in two hours. I’m leaving when my husband gets back with coffee.”
Maddy would have slunk out the door at that point if it hadn’t been for Amber’s push pen anxiety. Amber was clicking her gold retractable pen in and out as if she was punching an elevator button when she was late and the elevator was a no show. Nerves. The tell easily captured with a slow pan and zoom. If she’d had a camera.
“Why don’t you put the pen down before someone gets hurt?” Maddy suggested.
Amber froze and then composed herself.
Maddy dragged in much needed air. “You and I both know it’s Blue. He pissed off Kaya Anika when he let her plunge to earth, alone and suddenly single. She’s a sore loser and most likely the only reason the Avengers ex
ist. She finances the parties and generally feeds their frenzy.” Maddy paused. God didn’t strike her down for making her assumptions sound like the gospel. “Blue’s exes have no chance to heal with her around.”
“I don’t know how you came to these…these erroneous conclusions about my brother, but you’re wrong.” Amber’s words fell weakly between them.
Sensing she was near victory, Maddy pressed on. “The Avengers launched the retail portion of their website last week. Selling Avenger T-shirts and thongs means they’re in it for the long haul. There’ll be no escaping the gossip and subsequent damage to the Dooley Foundation if you don’t sever this at the jugular.” At Amber’s raised brow, Maddy shrugged. “Another of Poppa Bert’s pearls.”
“Hello, ladies.” A deep voice. From behind her. And then a tall man with the grace of a dancer and the swagger of a model settled in the chair next to hers, unsettling Maddy’s pulse.
Blue Rule in khaki shorts and a dark polo? Unbelievable. He wore tuxes. He wore suits. He wore body-hugging button downs. Not shorts and a polo as if he was the guy next door.
Pitch anxiety returned, prickling her skin with nervous heat.
Blue Rule had the kind of looks that most women only saw on television and in fashion magazines – a lean body, short, crisp black hair that never misbehaved, lips that quirked knowingly, and steel blue eyes that seemed to penetrate your very soul with the promise of bone melting, I-just-met-you sex. Maddy imagined him reclining on a penthouse suite bed, the camera panning up his body, across all those very hard body parts, until it reached that smile.
Did her mental camera have to shoot porn now? In the middle of a pitch meeting?
“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Blue Rule.” He extended his hand. If Blue’s appearance inspired I’ll-do-whatever-you-want bedroom fantasies, his voice did not. It was cool, confident, controlling.
To her credit, Maddy didn’t miss a beat as she introduced herself, thrusting her clammy hand toward him, because there was only one reason for Amber to bring Blue into this – to confirm Maddy wasn’t one of his under the radar ex-girlfriends.
Blue’s smile broadened like a hunter who had a deer in his sights.
And Maddy, who’d always fled the mighty male hunters that prowled L.A., felt her anger rise like the fire that swept through Bambi’s forest, burning her anxiety to ashes.
News flash: her kick-ass idea had legs that made these two Rules nervous.
“Now that we’ve confirmed I’m not one of Blue’s Avengers, can we continue?”
Blue’s smile dimmed.
Amber blushed, a deep crimson that was unflattering for someone with a creamy complexion and red hair. “I had to be sure.”
“Bottom line is this.” Maddy prepared for a grand close. “Unless you have another Avenger contingency plan to protect your company and Blue’s personal reputation, or at the very least Blue’s car, I’m the best chance you’ve got.”
“His car?” Amber set her pen down.
“Later.” Blue eyed Maddy speculatively from forehead to toe, seeming to re-evaluate the impression he’d no doubt gotten from her sweaty palms. He gave her a dangerously slow smile.
Despite the pictures she’d seen on Facebook where he’d looked bored or grim, smiles seemed to be Blue’s stock in-trade in-person. He probably had a smile for every type of female he came across. He’d started out with a triumphant grin, assuming her clammy hands were dismissible. And now she was getting the playboy smile, which was as powerful as if he‘d put on pheromone-inducing cologne and Maddy got a whiff.
Holy Hot Sheets.
“Stop that,” Maddy commanded.
Blue smirked like an unrepentant schoolboy.
Maddy found it hard not to grin right back.
Damn, he was good.
A tiny pink poodle appeared out of nowhere and sniffed at her flats, growling as if he disapproved of her footwear.
“Not now, Mr. J.” Blue picked up the softball-sized dog.
Amber didn’t seem fazed by her brother’s effeminate, grouchy dog. “We’re only willing to agree that the Dooley Foundation wants these Avengers gone in a non-public manner. I can’t see any scenario where a reality show is going to benefit us.”
“You just admitted you think it’s me!” Blue’s lowered brows conveyed a lowered approval rating of his sister. He turned to Maddy. “We’re not admitting anything.”
Maddy resisted rolling her eyes. “If Blue is the Foundation’s relationship counselor and these women have all failed at a relationship with him, then you’re screwed – with me or without me. The answer is simple. Find them their ideal boyfriend. Give them – ”
“Give them all a second chance at me? Like one of those Bachelor programs? Not happening.” Blue shook his head, all but confessing to being the Avenger’s target.
Now probably wasn’t the time to leap to her feet and shout, “I knew it!” Instead, Maddy reached over and patted Blue’s knee as if she was his Auntie Maddy, who was sexually off-limits and had all the answers to his problems.
“I’m proposing you apply the Rules of Attraction and play matchmaker.” Maddy ignored the way Blue scowled at her as if he wasn’t used to having the tables turned on him. “These women are beautiful, sexy, and conniving. But if you find them each a potential soulmate you’ll look like a better person. And they’ll be so preoccupied, they won’t have time to bribe the valet to put geese in your vintage James Bond-mobile.” She’d given Johnny, the valet, forty bucks and promised him free drinks for a month for that piece of info.
“Not an uncaring playboy.” Amber ignored the geese revelation. “I like it.”
“I don’t.” Blue drummed his fingers on his knee. “You don’t know these women.”
“I may not know them personally,” Amber said with the patience of her father. “But I went to high school with girls just like them. They’re so beautiful they have men falling at their feet. And along comes Blue Rule, who claims to know what women want and how to give it to them. But you’re only interested in giving them a superficial, short-term relationship. We’ve been through this before.”
“It’s the perfect P.R. campaign,” Maddy put in, having done her homework on Blue.
“P.R. campaigns work when they’re manageable.” Maddy could almost see the wheels cranking around in that dark, scheming brain of his. “There are too many unknowns here. How many Avengers are there?”
“I know of six. All in need of a career boost,” Maddy admitted proudly. “But it doesn’t matter how many official Avengers exist. We can include any of the women you dated over the years.”
“Hundreds,” Amber murmured, picking up her pen and clicking it slowly. “Yikes.”
“But according to you I have to find a soulmate for each one for this to work.” Blue studied Maddy as if she threatened his boring, predictable life with chaos.
“Potential soulmate,” she corrected. If Blue and Amber wanted to tell themselves they needed wedding-vowable results, let them be delusional. Love was a fleeting feeling that faded with the afterglow.
“This isn’t eHarmony,” he countered. “I don’t have a database of men ready to settle down.”
“We could start one,” Maddy said gamely, her palms dampening. “Or set them up with your friends.”
“We don’t short change our clients.” Amber was adamant. “It would have to be a legitimate effort.” And here she gave her brother the kind of look a schoolteacher gives a boy with a history of misbehavior.
“If Blue uses the Rules to attempt to change their relationship outlook, the show will be legitimate.” Maddy felt as if she was grabbing for a handhold on the edge of a steep cliff.
“I draw the line at reality shows.” Blue shook his finger at his sister. “I’m not Dad and if you ask me to dress up as cupid in a short toga with wings, I’m walking away.”
Now there was a picture that shrunk Blue’s sex god image down to a manageable size.
“You’ll do this and you know
why.” The schoolteacher tapped her pen on the blotter as if she wanted to rap it on Blue’s thick skull.
Maddy had just met Blue, but she could relate.
He set his pink dog on the floor. “If – and this is a highly conditional if – I’m going to be involved, I need someone to take over my clients.”
“Don’t look at me.” Amber leaned back in her chair. “I’m spending the next two weeks in bed with Evan on a cruise ship. Besides, you haven’t gotten very far with the few clients you have. And I want to see progress when I get home.”
“I could use Cora,” Blue persisted.
The Fashionista Rule? Maddy pitied the poor sap paying for those Dooley Foundation results.
“You’d trust Cora with your clients?” Amber deadpanned. “You’re braver than I thought.”
His gaze dropped to his hands. He clenched them into fists. “How am I supposed to reach my sales quota if we participate in this farce?”
“I feel I should point out…” Maddy tried to use her most compelling, Auntie Maddy knows best voice. If she could pull this off, she’d be like the reality show messiah, bigger than Thom Beers, who’d created Deadliest Catch and Ice Road Truckers. “…reality made the Kardashians a household word and a multi-million dollar enterprise. I’m sure it will only make you busier than before.”
The siblings exchanged looks.
“Part of this deal involves money coming to us, correct?” Blue turned once more to Maddy. “The question is, how much?”
Good night. Maddy hadn’t realized the Rules were so hard up for money. She thought the Foundation was thriving. She’d been too slow to catch on. Money was the key to this deal, not saving the reputation of the Foundation or Blue. “Depending on the network and studio, you can expect ten to fifteen grand an episode.”
Blue shook his head. “I’m screwed.”
Her kick-ass idea suffered a knock-out blow, crumpling inside of her like dead weight.
Think-think-think.
“Wait a minute.” Amber tried for a resurrection, bless her. “What about back end percentages? DVD sales, T-shirts, and the like?”
On the Edge Page 79