Untangling The Stars

by Alyse Miller

  “Of course, as his manager, my main priority is protecting the reputation of my client. I’m sure you can agree that this is important. I had hoped that he would come to his senses and squash this whole thing before it got out of hand, but apparently, he’s taking a more difficult path. You might have heard that Guy threatened to pull out of his contract to protect you in the media. I’ve been handing out bags of diamonds to everyone I have to in order to keep the whole thing from boiling over. But that’s irrelevant now, and I’ve got to head this thing off. I am most interested in meeting the girl he’s willing to risk his career for.”

  Again, Andie had little time to form an appropriate response. There was so much swirling around in that brief monologue that she didn’t know where to start. One thing was for certain, though. There was no facetious tone in Mad’s last words. The Mad Man was “most interested” to meet her. Sure, interested in the same way a feral cat was “most interested” in a canary trapped in a birdcage.

  “I’ve just landed in Denver and am en route to Boulder now. Meet me at Rao’s for a light lunch. One o’clock, I believe you have a break in your schedule between classes then. And, Ms. Foxglove, please keep in mind that our little lunch date will undoubtedly be a public event, so do try to look your best.” The line went dead.

  Andie stared dumbly at the phone. What. The. Hell. She hit Guy’s number on speed dial and groaned when it went directly to voicemail. Guy was on a flight back to the city to finish filming the scene he’d walked out on yesterday. And of course, Madeline would have known that. Cunning witch, she’d planned her call perfectly.

  She pressed the second button on her speed list and was relieved when Scott picked up on the first ring. “Well, hello, Superstar.”

  Andie rolled her eyes. “Don’t start.”

  “Just kidding, mama. What’s up? I’ve been worried about you ever since you went back out into the world. How’s it treating you?”

  It was nice of him to ask, although Andie knew better than to think Scott was immune to the news floating around about her and Guy. If nothing else, she was sure he’d heard it from Tandy.

  “I’ve been better.”

  “Keep your chin up, kid. You’ve got this. It takes more than one horse to trap a fox.”

  “How many Dobermans does it take?” Andie could still hear Madeline’s voicing chomping at her across the phone line.

  “Afraid you lost me there.”

  “Guy’s agent called me—Madeline Mann. The Madeline Mann. Remember, the terrifying manager I wrote about in that article on the mob mentality of the powers that really run the show in entertainment?”

  “I remember.”

  “Her, but worse than I thought, and she wants to meet me for lunch.”

  “Need backup?”

  She had to laugh. Trust Scott to have just the right words to take the edge off. Showing up with a mysterious third wheel would make the press go wild, and stick it to Madeline, too. “Probably.”

  “Listen, Andie, you got this. Go or don’t go. But if you do go, remember that she’s there because she’s scared of you for some reason. Otherwise, she wouldn’t waste her time. You ask me, it’s probably because of who you are. One search on Google Scholar tells the world you’re an outspoken voice on stripping away the illusion that Hollywood paints on the world. That can’t be good for business—not when you’re going after the newest It Boy. It’s like when George Clooney proposed to Amal Alamuddin and every eligible bachelorette died a little inside.”

  It was eerily similar to what Guy had said earlier, but Scott made a good point that she hadn’t thought of before. If there was no reason to worry about the flavor of the week on Guy’s dance card, the Mad Man would never waste a second of her precious time on her—much less fly across the country for lunch.

  “And, Andie. I don’t want to be the grumpy old man in the mix, but you’ve got to smooth things over with Tandy. We’re all counting on you, me especially. There’s no way I can walk into that ballroom of hundreds of people and take any footage that doesn't look like it belongs in the next Blair Witch Project, snot and all. You’re the marshmallow in this s’more, baby.”

  Andie winced. He was right, but she could really only handle one battle at a time. “I know. I’ll fix it.” That sounded familiar.

  “Oh hey, Andie.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Wear something black. Show that bitch you mean business, too.”

  ***

  There was nothing light about Rao’s, either in terms of the family size platters being served or the oppressive mob-like stiffness that hung in the air. Andie half expected to see Al Pacino, tommy gun leaned against his chair, ready and waiting when she walked around the corner.

  Madeline was already there by the time Andie arrived, layered in black from the pointed tip of her four-inch stilettos, black A-line dress, blazer, and—just like Andie had imagined—a razor-edged bob. Even the thin wristwatch on her impossibly tiny wrist was black from its band to its face. The only signs of color around Madeline were red lips and the glass of red wine she lifted irritably in the air as a flag to signal Andie’s attention. Even though it had made her late, Andie was glad she’d followed Scott’s advice and made the quick stop at her apartment to change clothes. The side-pleated black frock packed a whole lot more punch that the jeans and university sweatshirt she’d been wearing earlier. She was going to need to come armed and loaded to this sisterly lunch date, and nothing would have been worth giving Madeline ammunition of picking apart her more casually quirky fashion sense.

  Madeline gave Andie a quick, unconcerned glance and took another sip of wine. “You look like your pictures, although prettier in person. That fawny, earthy look is very in right now. At least you’ve got that going for you.” Madeline flicked her wrist toward her long, unkempt curls and Andie smiled tightly at the backhanded compliment, smoothed her skirt, and took her seat. So much for dressing the part. It had never occurred to her that she had to fix her hair, too. Oh well. This was a game she was glad she didn’t play very well.

  By now, Guy would have already landed in New York and would be on his way to the studio, but Andie hadn’t told him she was meeting Madeline when he’d called to check in on her from the jetway. She wasn’t sure why exactly she’d felt the need to keep it a secret, but she was willing to bet that Madeline had banked on her silence, too. She wasn’t even sure what she was doing here, but at least she had the wits to know this was nothing close to a bonding session with her and Guy’s infamously brutal manager. It was a civil ambush, pure and simple, and Dr. Alessandra Foxglove planned to stand her ground—for herself and for Guy.

  Madeline gave Andie a curt smile and snapped her fingers sharply at the waiter, who deposited a glass of red wine in front of Andie. Andie looked from the glass to Madeline. Lunchtime seemed awfully early to start chugging down the wine, but then maybe that was how things worked in New York. Or Los Angeles. Or whatever dark Hollywood underbelly Madeline had slithered out from.

  “I’ll just have water, please,” she smiled graciously as told the waiter. Early or not, red wine wasn’t her taste—not to mention the last thing she needed was a photo getting back to Dean Kelley of her sloshing down booze on her lunch break. There wasn’t enough good karma in the world to mend the disappointment her dean would have if she learned that Dr. Andie Foxglove was not only a floozy paparazzi magnet with a questionable taste in men, but also one who didn’t have a problem with lecturing a class while reeking of merlot. Her experience told her that she had to put in at least a good twenty years of teaching before she could get away with both of those in tandem. She hadn’t even earned tenure yet.

  “So you’ve seen these, I assume?” Madeline pulled a collated stack of glossy Internet tabloid printouts from her purse and slid them across the table. Many featured one or more photos of Andie or Guy and covered everything from their first kiss in the Four Seasons to their selfie last night. A few even mentioned his tantrum on set and how he was threa
tening to walk off the show due to “invasion of personal privacy” and “disgust at public interest in his life off screen.”

  “Wilder Gets Wilder?” Andie quoted off one of the sheets as she leafed through them. The headlines weren’t great, but at least nothing caught her by surprise.

  Madeline lifted her wine glass in a mock toast and gave what almost looked like a real smile. “Welcome to the land of cheap puns.”

  “And wolves hidden in sheep’s clothing, I suppose. I assume you’ve done your research on me, too, and you already know I’ve built my body of research by studying the players in the entertainment industry, including you. So to what do I owe the pleasure?” Andie had rehearsed the line a thousand times on her walk over, but it still seemed to come out sounding unnatural and staged.

  “I like a woman who gets straight to the point.” It almost sounded like a compliment. “Let’s get right to it then, shall we? I have to ask, in the interest of transparency between girlfriends, what is your plan with my client?”

  “My plan?”

  “Yes, your plan. You’re toying with a man’s career, Dr. Foxglove. I hope it’s not in the name of research, though I’m sure it would make a lovely book deal.”

  Wow, right for the heart. That was twice she had been accused of using her romantic involvement with Guy to pad her own research agenda. Frankly, it was insulting. She couldn’t help but be defensive. “My interest in Guy has nothing to do with research. It’s a relationship. With feelings and that kind of thing, if you’re familiar.”

  “You do know that he’s threatening to pull his contract on My Bleeding Heart, don’t you? How do you think that might play out in the headlines if he were to actually go through with it? I can’t imagine it would be too attractive on any of our CVs if Guy Wilder walked out of a deal because he was ‘in love’ with his biggest critic.”

  “He mentioned it, but what he does with his career is his choice and has nothing to do with me.”

  “Doesn’t it though, Alessandra? It certainly has a fair amount of people on this side of the camp worried. Think about all the people on that show, all the other people’s livelihoods he’d be impacting if the top star blew the gig for everyone. It’s a hard trick even with Hollywood magic to write the lead character out of the script and keep a show going.”

  She knew it was bait—knew it was bait. The success of a primetime show didn’t pivot on one character, and it was ridiculous to think that it would. Leading characters were regularly killed off, sometimes before they even knew it was happening. But Madeline had a way of shaping questions to feed on your deepest insecurities. She’d make one hell of a journalist if she’d ever be willing to step off her mighty podium. She’d already questioned Andie’s academic integrity and now was appealing to her more charitable nature. Andie didn’t want to know what other tricks she had in store for her.

  Andie cocked her head, but didn’t answer. Nothing she said would have deterred Madeline’s line of questions. It was better to stay quiet instead of adding fuel to the fire anyway.

  “Besides, my resources tell me that your institution isn’t too thrilled with the attention you’ve been bringing in. And it was mentioned that you were overheard in a rather heated argument with one of your co-workers regarding a charitable event that seems to have lost your attention in the interest of other more personal matters.”

  “Your sources are wrong. Everything is just fine in my world. I think you’re more worried about your own.”

  The Doberman across the table smiled, if you could call it a smile. She was going in for the kill. Andie had never seen a smile that looked so mean—an evil sort of bend that reminded Andie strongly of Pennywise, the clown from It. Anyone who had a smile like that couldn’t be up to any good. “Alessandra, you don’t really believe in fate, do you? I mean, honey, of all the classrooms on campus, do you really believe that Guy stumbled into yours by accident?”

  Frostbite bit though Andie’s veins as she understood, immediately, what Madeline was hinting at. “You can’t be saying that this was all some sort of plan?”

  “Couldn’t it be though? What better way for Guy Wilder to accidentally enjoy a nice ride at the top of every media headline in Hollywood by cozying up with a pretty little blonde professor who actively campaigns against pop culture romance and getting her to fall in love with him?”

  Andie felt like she might throw up. She tried not to look too obvious as she laid her napkin on her lap, praying it would be able to shield the contents of her stomach from splattering on the lap of her dress. Don’t do it Andie, you know how much you hate going to the dry cleaners.

  “Besides, Guy has been looking to move from fantasy roles to something more…” She paused and pretended to finger the sharp end of her hair. “…serious, and take his audience along with him. What better way than to align himself with the equivalent of a film critic who happens to have immediate access to a segment of his target market? Come along, Dr. Foxglove, use some of that brilliance to deduce the other more likely reasons that Guy Wilder has made such an interest in some everyday girl like yourself, and turned his back on the supermodels who he could take to his bed instead. It’s a much prettier photo op with two professionals. And, I don’t think that would sit very well for your university either.”

  The Mad Man’s word struck home, seeming to make purchase on every one of Andie’s most secretive of insecure thoughts. Oh my god, she’s right. She’s got to be right. That makes so much sense. Madeline didn’t miss Andie’s brief falter and must have known she had the upper hand. She laughed, and the sound was so cold and untouchable it sounded distinctly like glass shattering. Vomit was rising in Andie’s throat, but luckily, Madeline cut it off. “Don’t get upset, dear. Unfortunately, he did wander into your room, much to my disappointment, totally by accident. And worse, he actually does seem to be rather genuinely fond of you. So that is one point in your favor, but I promise you that it doesn’t count for much in the scheme of things.”

  That didn’t make Andie feel any better at all.

  Madeline leaned across the table so she could whisper her next words so that only Andie would hear them. It was like she was delivering the last personal stab in the heart with a serial killer’s glee. “But, as you so well know, the truth isn’t always what the media likes to talk about. I’m sure my version would make a very compelling story. You two may very well go off and live happily ever after, but you’re not taking me down with you. I’ll make sure you both go down in flames before I see even a hint of tarnish on my reputation that I can’t handle my clients.”

  Andie gulped. Was the Mad Man threatening her? Yes, yes she was. The problem was, no one would ever believe it.

  Madeline calmly laid a one-hundred-dollar bill on the table and stood up to leave. “Do what’s best, Alessandra. Walk away from this and save both of you while you still can.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  It took a lot to rattle Andie Foxglove, but the Mad Man’s words spread through her like poison ivy. Either she had lost some of her edge or she had really, really underestimated Madeline Mann. She knew they were just that—words—and words that had been curated with the intent to do harm. In fact, Andie probably should feel better if she had the strength to read between the lines of Madeline’s words. In the midst of all the verbal assassination that she’d had done to Andie and Guy’s relationship, she’d also validated the fact that Guy really did care for her, and that he was more concerned about their relationship than advancing his career. But, somehow that actually made Andie feel worse. Love should be about compromise, not sacrifice.

  The whole damned thing felt toxic, and seemed to confirm the doom theories that had been occupying more and more space in her mind. She knew from experience—both in work and in her personal life—that the most perfect-feeling romances were always the ones that went down in flames first, and hers and Guy’s looked like it was about to catch on fire. It would cost him a career to be with her, and could very likely cost her
hers to be with him. Unfortunately, unlike Guy, that wasn’t a price she was willing to pay. She wasn’t sure if that made her selfish or just realistic. Nevertheless, by the time Andie began to make her way home that evening, she had gone from sick in her stomach to on the verge of requiring life support.

  Everything just sucked.

  It sucked even more when she showed up to the gala planning session and was greeted by the stony faces of Elizabeth, Melody, and Denise. Tandy didn’t even bother to look up.

  “Hi, guys. Sorry I’m late. Got held up on campus.” The words came out too fast and Andie had to fight to keep her voice from shaking. These are your friends, Foxglove. Get a grip.

  Elizabeth gave Andie big eyes and buried her face in whatever Tandy was so busy looking at. Melody regarded her like she was trying to decode her with an inner polygraph, pick up on micro facial expressions like emotion psychologist Paul Ekman. Denise, characteristically, didn’t play into the tension in the room. That was the plus of her being more interested in studying brains of primates addicted to cigarettes than the petty goings-on of everyday humans. The downside was that she lacked the tact of diplomacy, and didn’t bother to sugarcoat her observations.

  “Hello, Andie. The tension between you and Tandy is making Elizabeth and Denise uncomfortable. Would you like to discuss it and clear the air so we can finalize gala details?”

  Tandy shot angry eyes at Denise who blinked back innocently. Andie took a gulp and sat down in the nearest chair. Discuss it she could do, but she didn’t want to be the one to open up that can of worms. She searched the table for a scone. She’d rather play offense and shove something in her mouth so someone else could talk first. Unfortunately, the table was annoyingly empty of anything to snack on. Damn.