Slick

by Daniel Price

  ________________

  On Monday, February 12, the word got out fast: Harmony was breaking her silence. CNN lifted the gag order at 8 a.m., four hours earlier than promised. In a business where each rating point was worth millions of dollars, and in a month when the broadcast nets took great pains to trounce their cable competitors, the network couldn’t hold it in any more. We’ve got Harmony Prince, and we’ve got her tonight! Exclusively on CNN! Kiss our cheeks, Fox News! Oh, happy day! Happy day!

  It certainly wasn’t a happy day for MGM. The final first-weekend box-office tally for Hannibal came in at $22.4 million, way lower than even the most skeptical forecasts. Move My Cheese had predicted a $58.1 million opening, a miss so wild that it shaved at least three points off the program’s overall accuracy rating. Ira briefly returned to the corporeal world to check the numbers and mutter a few expletives before vanishing back into his monitor.

  Also cursing: Alonso. The New York Post ran a malevolent piece on his spotty reputation as a lawyer and citizen. The story included damning quotes from disgruntled ex-clients, ex-employees, ex-girlfriends, and a leery investigator from the California Bar Association who’d been sniffing after him since the early 1990s. If that wasn’t bad enough, the article contained two cleverly veiled references to transvestism, ambiguous enough to avoid a libel suit but clear enough to get the insinuation across.

  When Alonso called me at 10 a.m., he was sputtering with rage. He was convinced that the story had been planted by none other than Doug Modine.

  “So, that’s the way we’re playing it now?” he bellowed. “We’re using live ammo on each other?”

  I only had to scan the byline to know the true culprit. The author, Jenny Alvarado, was the maid of honor at Gail Steiner’s wedding. Gail Steiner had harbored a mad-on for Alonso ever since he publicly blasted her for revealing Harmony’s name (after privately giving her permission). She should have seen it coming, but alas, journalists were a sensitive bunch. And they stuck together. This, I explained, was simply revenge by proxy.

  “Double proxy,” Alonso snapped. “I’m being punished for your maneuver.”

  “Hey, you made me the heavy with Harmony for that Coca-Cola thing.”

  “I’m entitled to a little latitude! I’m out here on the front lines, while you’re safe and snug in your hidden bunker.”

  Okay, okay. Whatever. I promised I’d help him with the counterspin. Anything to get him out of his own problems. His first and foremost task was to prep Harmony for her Larry King Live appearance, since I obviously couldn’t. She had yet to lift her grudge and it was driving me insane.

  “Harmony, Harmony, Harmony,” griped Madison at the start of her second work week. “You know, there are other things going on in the world besides Harmony.”

  She was talking to me but scolding the media. I couldn’t blame her. She must have highlighted Harmony’s name at least five hundred times since Thursday. It didn’t help that I was watching yet another tape from the Jay and Sheila archives when Madison arrived. When she asked me how I obtained the footage, I gave her the loaded truth. “Never underestimate the great Maxina Howard,” I told her. When she asked me what I hoped to gain by watching it, I gave her a loaded lie. “Know your enemy,” I said. “Know your enemy.”

  Madison was more interested in getting my take on the Kournikova virus, which had also scored considerable attention today. All through out the weekend, all over the world, tens of thousands of computers were infected by a tainted JPEG of eminently screwable tennis star Anna Kournikova. Not being a tennis fan, I only learned of her existence and screwability recently, thanks to the virus.

  “That’s my point,” said Madison. “I bet her publicist was behind it.”

  I gave it some thought. “I don’t know. That seems a little risky. I mean they almost always catch the guys who start those things.”

  “So? You just talk some teenage hacker into planting the bug and then deny the hell out of it when he points the finger at you.”

  “That’s a horrible thing to do.”

  “What? He’s a kid. He’ll just get probation.”

  “Yeah, well, how would you like it if I hung you out to dry like that?”

  “I wouldn’t like it at all,” she replied. “But then I’d be smart enough to record our conversations as insurance.”

  Goddamn, she had a future. “Get back to work.”

  At a quarter to five, Harmony stepped out of the Miramar and back into the media swarm. Only the news channels broke in with live coverage of her reemergence, but every network this side of Telemundo would be rolling the tape tonight.

  We watched her on CNN. Madison booed. Ever since she conversed with Hunta, her fealty to him was unshakable. Even when I told her he was a habitual philanderer, she denied it.

  “If he never admitted it himself, then you have no proof. All you have is hearsay.”

  Well, I did hear it from numerous sources, including his wife, but I let Madison have the point. I even joined in on the booing, despite the fact that Harmony never looked better to me. She wore a form-fitting white blouse with slit sleeves over wide-legged trousers. Her hair was done up, salon-style, and her jewelry adornments were formally chic.

  Once again Alonso held her in defensive position, but now they had a throng of bodyguards to keep the press at bay. Harmony looked a lot calmer now than she did during her last walk of fame. She made eye contact with the cameras. She was wise enough not to smile.

  Madison resumed her highlighting with a derisive cluck of the tongue. “She’s loving this. You can tell.”

  “I don’t know. I heard a major soft drink company offered her a lot of money to be seen with one of their products. She turned them down.”

  “Does that stuff really work? I mean are people going to go out and buy Pepsi just because they saw some rape accuser holding a can?”

  I shined her a crafty smile. “I only said ‘soft drink.’ What made you think of Pepsi?”

  “Thinking is not the same as buying.”

  “It’s all cumulative. Wallets are opened by hands, hands are controlled by brains, and brains are full of other people’s ideas. Nobody’s immune to it. Not even your mother.”

  She threw me a teasing grin. “What made you think of my mother?”

  “Get back to work.”

  Ducking all questions, Alonso and Harmony scuttled into a big white limousine, courtesy of CNN. As soon as it drove off, the network went back to its polls and pundits.

  I shook my head at the TV. “Man, those guys sure love Harmony Prince.”

  “I know you’re talking to her,” Madison said.

  “You know I’m talking to Harmony Prince?”

  She fought a smirk. “I know you’re talking to my mother. A lot.”

  I kept my gaze on her until she looked up from her highlighting.

  “It’s okay,” she assured me. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I mean I think you’re secretly seeing someone, but considering that you’re always talking to her on that weird red phone of yours, I know it’s not Mom.”

  “Madison...”

  “I’m sorry. It’s not my business. I just wanted—”

  “I’m not seeing anyone, secretly or openly.”

  “It’s not my business. I just wanted to say I’m okay with you and my mom talking. That is my business. And I’m telling you, in case you wanted to know, that I don’t have a problem with it. Not anymore.”

  She had her mother’s ability to exasperate me. “What was your problem?”

  Madison resumed her work with a sigh. “It’s just that she always freaks out about me. I didn’t want her freaking you out, too.”

  “I can form my own opinions.”

  “I know,” she said warmly. “I can tell. It’s appreciated.”

  Ever since she cried at my tardiness last Tuesday, Madison had declared a ban on all unprofessional emotions and expressions. I wasn’t sure if she was trying to impress me or imitate me. Either way, she suc
ceeded far too well. I could have used some mushy sentiment at the moment. I could have handled hearing what a wonderful guy I was.

  Still, her genial praise was enough to get me out of the grim mood I’d been hiding. And what excellent timing, too. At five o’clock my “weird” red phone rang. As I carried it upstairs, Madison held up her hands. Not my business.

  Although my face was cool and bemused, the inner me was howling with relief. Thank God. Thank God. Thank God. With just one hour to go before speaking to Larry King and the world, Harmony was finally speaking to me.

  ________________

  “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself.” I closed the bedroom door. “You look wonderful.”

  “Oh, you saw me?”

  “I never miss you.”

  Harmony was quiet. As I threw myself down on the bed, I could hear the hum of the limo’s engine. I could hear Alonso chattering away in the background.

  “Who’s he talking to?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. He’s always talking to someone on the phone.”

  “He’s always talking.”

  She chuckled. “Yeah.”

  “Well, for tonight he’s been given firm instructions to shut up and let you speak for yourself.”

  “I know. That scares me.”

  “You’ll be terrific,” I promised. “This is the part we’ve all been waiting for. This is where you really get to shine.”

  She vented a long, tired breath. “You make me crazy, Scott.”

  “I know.”

  “I mean you really drive me nuts.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  Now I could even hear the bumps in the road. I could hear Alonso bitching about the New York Post. Jesus. Get over it, already.

  “I decided what to do about my father,” Harmony told me. “If he wants to be a part of my life, I’m going to let him in. See if he’s worth getting to know. But if he asks me for money again, even once, I’ll know he’s not for real. I’ll know he’s just playing me.”

  “I think that’s very smart.”

  “Not that I’ve been doing much thinking about him today,” she added with a nervous titter. “Ever since I woke up, I’ve been all about Larry. Larry, Larry, Larry.”

  I smiled. “I’m sure Larry’s been thinking about you too.”

  “Yeah, but he’s not scared of me like I’m scared of him. And these guys haven’t helped. Maxina and Alonso have been telling me things all day. They’re like ‘Okay, if Larry asks you this, don’t say this. But if he asks you that, definitely say that.’ And they keep reminding me how he’s been doing this stuff for a million years. I get the point already.”

  We sighed in tandem. Harmony groaned.

  “Scott, what do I do?”

  That was all I needed to hear to come alive. I sat up. “I’m glad you asked me that.”

  She laughed. “Come on. You think I’d go on live national TV without talking to you first? You’re the only one who makes sense of this shit for me.”

  Life was good again. I hopped out of the bed, pacing with fierce new energy. “Okay. First I want you to forget everything that Maxina and Alonso told you. Can you do that?”

  “Oh, that’s not a problem.”

  “Good. Now forget that proper diction you seem to be using. Just talk the way you normally talk.”

  “Oh no, Scott. I’ve been practicing all day.”

  “I don’t want you wasting precious energy on grammar. It’s unnecessary.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t want to sound stupid.”

  “You never sounded stupid to me. And I’m pretty smart.”

  “It used to be easy for me,” she lamented. “Before the accident. I used to be able to turn it on and off like a light switch.”

  I knew that. By now I was very familiar with the “before” model. She was a good kid but she never could have smiled from a Polaroid the way this Harmony did. This was the Harmony I wanted.

  “Just turn it off and leave it off. Will you do that?”

  She loosened up already. “Yeah. Okay. Shit, so far this is easy. You only telling me to forget things.”

  “Yes, but here comes the hard part. You want everyone to like you, don’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Okay. I want you to forget that too.”

  She paused. “Forget I want everyone to like me?”

  “Absolutely. Anyone who presumes to judge you from the other side of a TV screen and a big bag of Cheetos is not worth impressing.”

  She laughed loud enough to quiet Alonso. “But what about Larry?”

  “Larry’s just a big old softie. He already loves you for the numbers you’re bringing him.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Harmony, take a step back and look at yourself. Look at what you’ve got.”

  “What do I got?”

  “You’ve got five roommates who turned down large amounts of money to protect you. You’ve got at least six bodyguards who’d probably protect you for free if it came down to it. You’ve...”

  I stopped at the window, momentarily stuck for words.

  “You’ve got a talent for affecting people,” I said. “Even the ones who aren’t so easily affected. You do it without even trying. All I’m saying is don’t start now.”

  She was dead quiet, but it was all warm silence.

  “Harmony, when that camera light comes on, you’re going to snap into place. Mark my words. You were born for this. I saw it before I even knew you and you knew it before you met me. Don’t shit a shitter.”

  She let out a soft, cracked laugh. “What you doing to me, Slick? You trying to make me cry before I even get there?”

  “No. I’m just trying to hold your hand.”

  “I wish you were.”

  “I wish I were too.”

  “I don’t know why you mess me up so much, Scott.”

  “I don’t know.” I rested my head against the window. “I don’t know. Somehow you and I just got tangled up.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t see us ever getting married.”

  “No. Doesn’t look likely.”

  “I mean I knew from the beginning that you too old, too white, and way too smart for me.”

  Grinning, I paced again. “Yeah. And I knew you were too young, too short, and far too nice for me. But I probably could have overlooked those things.”

  “If?”

  “If you weren’t so goddamn famous.”

  She didn’t laugh. I was almost hurt until I heard the faint sounds of cheering from the other end of the line.

  “Harmony? You there?”

  “Yeah. I’m here. Holy shit.”

  “No, I mean are you there at the studio?”

  “Yeah. I guess so. Oh my God. Holy shit! Are you watching this?”

  “No,” I said, fighting the urge to run downstairs. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “There are people,” she began, then stopped to listen to Alonso. Come on. Shut up and let her talk to me.

  “Scott, there are people all over the street. Outside the CNN building. They got signs. They all got signs with my name on them!”

  “Don’t keep me hanging. What do they say?”

  “Oh my God...”

  “All right. I’ll let you go deal with this.”

  “No! Don’t go! Stay with me!”

  “What do the signs say?”

  “There’s, uh... ‘Harmony rules.’ ‘Go Harmony.’ Uh...‘Stand strong, Harmony.’” She laughed, incredulous. “‘Give them hell, Harmony.’ ‘Harmony Prince forever!’ ‘Inglewood High School loves Harmony Prince!’ That’s my school! And there’s, uh...”

  “What?”

  She lost some steam. “‘We believe you, Harmony.’”

  ________________

  I stayed with her, hiding out inside her big red cellular. When she stepped out of the limo onto Sunset Boulevard, she took me with her, carrying me through the gauntlet of cameras, cops, and spectators. As she proceeded, she desc
ribed everything she saw, everything she felt. When she felt fear, I told her to stow it. I’d gotten her this far. I’d bring her the rest of the way. When she felt guilt, I told her to save it. She’d need it soon, but not tonight. Tonight was her night to bask in the world’s unadulterated affection. It was such a rare thing nowadays to see a blameless celebrity. The Bitch had a tendency to bite and scratch the people she took into bed with her. Just ask Hunta.

  But Harmony was in for nothing but warm, sweet love, and lots of it. If anyone deserved it more than she did, they should have come to me. I would have helped them too. Once again I felt divinely empowered, but this time my strength was matched by an otherworldly kindness. I was a benevolent force of nature. I was the Great Karmic Equalizer.

  I was Superman.

  And once I carried Harmony into the CNN building, I let her go, told her to be careful now, and flew back to my workplace before anyone even knew I was gone. I came back downstairs as Clark Kent, wearing only the tiniest hint of satisfaction on my innocent face.

  “Did I miss anything?”

  Of course, Clark Kent had the luxury of being surrounded by extremely dense people who couldn’t see through a pair of glasses. I had Madison. She turned away from CNN and looked at me like I’d just changed into a cocktail dress.

  “What? What’s the matter?”

  “She has the same phone,” Madison uttered, still working it all out. “Harmony Prince has the exact same phone as you.”

  Oh. “So?”

  “I just saw it. She was just talking on it while you were upstairs. Talking on yours.”

  “Madison, what would you like to know?”

  “I’d like to know what would happen if I took your phone, did a star-sixty-nine callback, and asked for Harmony Prince. That’s what I’d like to know.”

  Expressionless, I sat down on the easy chair. I thought about it for a moment, but what else could I do? I handed her the phone.

  19

  “NO.”

  “Well?”

  My trusting assistant listened into the receiver, then handed the cellular back to me.