The Fan Letter

by Nancy Temple Rodrigue

  “It's honest, Phillip. If you want to test me out, then come here and see for yourself. He won't know you. Listen, I can give you the number of my lawyer. Maybe that will help.”

  “What would help is for you to come back home and bring me my son. But, you're not coming back to Los Angeles, are you?”

  “At least not for the next seven or eight months. I'd be foolish to leave now. Marty wouldn't advise it.”

  “Yeah, I'll bet he wouldn't,” he asserted angrily. “Our friends have been asking, and I don't know what to tell them any more because I've been confused about what's been going on.”

  “My friends already know what's going on. I don't know about your friends,” she coolly informed him.

  “The studio is talking about some major changes next season. The Professor role could be broadened.”

  “That's nice. Say, listen, Phillip, I really need to go. I'm supposed to be resting.”

  Phillip bit his lip. “Well, I certainly don't want to take up any more of your valuable time. Au revoir.”

  “Good-bye, Phillip.”

  The dial tone sounded in his ear and he slowly hung up the phone. What else was there to say? His wife and his son were out of the country and, now, it appeared, out of his life—probably forever. She was carrying another man's child. His son probably didn't know him any longer and now turned to someone else for love and comfort. Phillip had nothing now but his career.

  Eyes narrowed in anger, he picked up the phone again and called his travel agent. He wasn't going down without a fight. He was going to go get his son.

  The secretary came to the door of the largest office on the Majestic lot. “Mr. Avery? The mail was just delivered. There's five more of that same book.”

  Richard Avery swung his huge leather chair around, turning away from the wide windows, a knowing half-smile on his face. “Are all of these from Amherst as well, Margaret?”

  “No, sir,” she said, checking the return addresses. “These are from different states. There's also another letter from an agent, a Mr. Quimby, from New York. He says he represents the author,” Margaret informed her boss as she referred to a sheet of paper in her hands.

  Richard rubbed a hand over his face. This pile of books made thirty-five copies of the novel that had been sent to him. Even one of his own actors had recommended the book. “All right, Margaret,” he sighed briefly, “she wins. Leave me a copy of that darned book, the letter from the agent, and contact Tom Young. Tell him I want to see him here tomorrow at three. And tell him to leave his whoopee cushions, joy buzzers, exploding cigars, pepper gum and dripping cups in his dressing room.”

  Margaret grinned as she made some notes on the pad she carried. Tom was always pulling some stunt when he was called into this office. “Yes, sir. I'll leave them here on your desk. Mr. Avery? I started reading the novel during lunch a few days ago.…” She broke off at the look on his face. “Well, there are over thirty copies lying around here…. I think the author has a good grasp on the characters.”

  “Uh-huh.” He tilted his head as he look up from the letter from the agent. “I've always valued your viewpoint, Margaret. After I read it tonight, we'll see.”

  He gave the letter from the agent another perfunctory glance. It was the usual letter extolling the wonders of the new discovery. Looking at the cover of the book, he was slightly surprised at the picture of the heroine. The women on novel covers were usually beautiful and voluptuous. Comparatively, this woman was rather plain with large blue eyes. He opened to the first page and started reading, hoping to find a quick clue about the cover girl.

  Two hours later Margaret found her boss deeply engrossed in the novel, feet up on his desk, and neglected work pushed aside. He chuckled now and then as he read and nodded his head.

  Margaret smiled as she returned to her desk. She knew she would be calling New York soon.

  “Tom? What do you know about this Leslie Nelson?” Richard asked as he leaned back in his chair. “I heard you met her at the last convention.”

  Tom never ceased to be amazed at how fast news and gossip traveled over the lot. “Yes, I met her. Eddie and I had dinner with her that evening. I found her interesting, intelligent, funny, and a little enthusiastic about her work.”

  “Uh-huh. I suppose you've read her book,” Richard commented, tapping the novel with his pen.

  Tom nodded, wondering where this was going and how much Richard really knew. “Months ago. Phillip Beck brought me a copy that Leslie had sent through him. I enjoyed it. It would make a terrific opening for the new season,” he added with a wide grin.

  “Uh-huh. Considering how much it affects your character, I'm not surprised at your recommendation,” Richard retorted and waved off Tom's attempt to sanction his claim. “Yes, yes, I know. It affects the whole show. I read the book as well. I intended to do in last night, but once I started, I couldn't put it down,” he confessed, frowning as he looked off into the distance, pondering the possibilities. “I think you're right about next season. Do you think Miss Nelson would be willing to work with us? A few of her ideas aren't feasible for the show.”

  Tom nodded as he tried to remember the different parts of the novel. He couldn't think of any idea that wouldn't translate well onto the screen. But he didn't voice his disagreement. “She seemed pretty level-headed. She already is thinking ahead to scripts.”

  “Uh-huh. How do you think she would react to meeting here with all of us? Is she capable of handling herself, or should we deal just with her agent in New York?” was his next concern.

  There was a smile from Tom as he recalled how nervous Leslie had been with him when they first met. “She might be a little shy at first, but I think she'd do fine. It would help if Eddie or I were here at the same time. She's already used to us…sort of. I'd volunteer to be present if you think that would help,” he off-handedly offered.

  Richard looked at him steadily. “Uh-huh. I'm sure you would. I also heard about your…uh…evening,” he added and again waved the actor off. “That's your business, Tom, and I don't care what did or didn't happen. It usually helps to have someone familiar at the first conferences, however. I'll contact her agent and arrange the date. You and Eddie will both be present. And Nickles, of course. Margaret will let you know when.”

  Thus the meeting was adjourned. Tom arose without another word and left to go back to the rehearsal from which he had been called. He grinned to himself on how thrilled Leslie would be to get such an opportunity. He hummed a little tune as he thought how much he would enjoy seeing her again.

  Los Angeles Daily

  “Majestic Signs New Writer

  Majestic Studio today announced the appropriation of the newest “The Time Police” novel entitled THE LONER FINDS LOVE to begin the highly-rated show's fourth season. Yesterday, the author, Leslie Nelson, met with the studio heads and agreed to work closely with the show's creators in getting her work onto the air.

  Ms. Nelson's novel, her first published work, has been one of the most widely-accepted books based on the popular show. The next effort, WESTWARD REX, will be released within the month. Both parties are quite enthusiastic about the upcoming season.”

  Phillip reread the article and looked again at the picture in the paper. Tom Young had his arm around Bunny's waist as she smilingly held up a contract. Richard Avery stood on her other side holding the pen. Eddie Chase and an unidentified man stood in the background. The photo was shot in Avery's office.

  Phillip set the paper down with a sigh. Why was it he always had to find out what's going on from the papers, he wondered? He hadn't heard from Bunny in months and didn't know Majestic knew about her. Now she had signed a deal with Avery and she didn't even tell him about it.

  He suddenly realized, once he stopped to think about it, that Bunny also hadn't written him about that convention he hadn't been able to attend or about the latest on her books. She hadn't told him she would be in town or for how long. He found, surprising himself, that he missed her
letters.

  Glancing again at the photo in the newspaper, Phillip's eyes stopped on Tom's arm around her waist. That didn't seem a very appropriate pose for a publicity shot. His mind clicked to a new thought: Maybe Tom could fill him about that conference with Avery.

  After dialing Tom's home number, the phone was answered by Tom's housekeeper. No, Mr. Young was out to dinner with some author at Charney's. No, she didn't know who. They were celebrating some deal. No, they would probably be back late. Could she take a message?

  Phillip didn't leave a message. He decided to go to the posh restaurant in Beverly Hills and join them for dinner. His curiosity had piqued over Bunny, and he felt this would be an excellent opportunity to meet his fan.

  Running a hand over his jaw, he decided a quick shave and a change of clothes would be a good idea. Charney's was one of the better restaurants the actors frequented.

  Phillip was pleased with his decision to take the initiative to finally meet Leslie. Pulling into the parking lot to leave his car with the valet, he figured out what he would say to congratulate her. There would also be an offer of his help with the scripts—something she had asked for and he had failed to do thus far in their correspondence.

  The maitre d’ warmly welcomed Mr. Beck and asked if he was meeting anyone or would he like a table for one? Phillip asked for Tom Young's party.

  “Oh, but Mr. Young and his guest left over thirty minutes ago. I am so sorry,” Roberto told him. “We still have some excellent seats, Mr. Beck.”

  Phillip thanked him and went back out front. He handed the card to the valet who rolled his eyes in disgust. He had just gotten back from parking that car. Phillip didn't notice the reaction as he handed over a generous tip. He was trying to decide whether to go to Tom's new beach house or to go back home. After glancing at the clock, he headed home and figured he'd call Tom in the morning.

  “Thomas? Beck here.”

  “Hey, Phil. Long time,” Tom answered in a friendly tone. “How's that television movie going over at North Star Studio?”

  “It's all right. My part will be finished in a week and a half. I wanted to ask you about the deal Majestic signed with Bunn…I mean, Leslie. I saw the picture in the paper. How did it go with Avery? Did he try any of his tricks?” Phillip asked with a knowing grin.

  Tom laughed. “Did he! Boy, I tell you, he tried them all. But that Leslie was sharp. She came prepared. She knew what she wanted with her books and stuck to her guns. Her agent mostly just sat there and helped with the contract. She handled all the fine print.”

  “Like what?” Phillip wanted to know as he leaned back in his chair.

  “Oh, like how Jane Barrett will look on the show and how much of her book will be used in the script. Things like that,” Tom replied.

  “Did Avery try to buy the book outright?”

  Tom gave a disgusted snort. “Yeah. For a ridiculous price. But,” he emphasized, clearly enjoying the telling of the tale, “that was not acceptable to Miss Nelson. She wasn't about to hand over her precious book with no say attached.”

  “Where did Bunny learn those techniques of dealing with Avery? She didn't seem like that determined of a person to me,” Phillip commented with a puzzled frown.

  “Well,” Tom confided, “she surprised all of us. Even herself, I found out later. She was pretty nervous about the whole meeting concept and having to deal with the head honcho and all. She was even shy and nervous when I met her at the airport. I hadn't contacted her since the convention and I guess she didn't believe I had been sincere.”

  Phillip frowned to himself. He didn't know what Tom was talking about, but didn't want to ask. It sounded personal. Apparently they had spent more time together than he knew about.

  Unaware of Phillip's level of concern, Tom continued. “She was surprised I met her or even knew she was coming. Then she was relieved to learn Eddie and I would be there at the conference. I told her what to expect from Avery.” Tom paused and laughed. “You wouldn't believe how mad she got in the back of the limo when she heard Avery wanted all the rights to her books! She wasn't about to do that! I thought she was going to turn the limo around and go back to Amherst right then and there.”

  “What did you tell her?” Phillip prodded as Tom again fell silent and was laughing.

  “Oh, just the usual advice about dealing with studio heads. I told her that Avery really wanted her work and what a good position she was in. I took her to the hotel and we both met her agent. Nice chap, by the way. We decided on a battle plan and I filled Eddie in on it before the meeting the next day. She was still nervous. I could feel her shaking as we went in. But, as soon as Avery came in, the show started.”

  “Show? What show?” Caught up in the narrative, Phillip was confused.

  “Leslie's show. She'd make a terrific actress, Phil. The scared look left her eyes and her mouth set in a most determined fashion. She lifted her chin, and then shook his hand as if he were the one being presented to her. Her voice didn't even quiver.”

  Phillip smiled. Mr. Avery liked people to be afraid of him. “How did Richard react?”

  Tom laughed out loud again and switched the phone to his other ear. “You should have seen the look he gave Nickles! Even Ron was amazed. They expected to walk all over her. As it ended, Les will do the rewrites herself—with some assistance from the main writers, if needed—and will have final say in which actress we hire, plus any changes.”

  There was a low whistle. “Good job, Bunny,” was Phillip's comment. Those conditions were unheard of. “So she's moving down here?”

  Tom paused as he thought back. “No, she never mentioned that. Avery is installing a fax machine at her place in Amherst—that was part of the deal. I offered my help with the scripts and all.”

  “That's great,” Phillip muttered. “I'm glad for her. Is she still in town? I'd like to say hello.”

  “No. I took her to the airport earlier today. Her agent left the day the contract was signed and took her third book with him. I asked Leslie to stay a few days.”

  There was silence from both men. Tom expected Phillip to ask something else. Phillip was surprised by this revelation from Tom. “Oh. Did you show her the sights around here?”

  “Naw, that wasn't necessary. Les is already pretty familiar with the area. We spent a lot of time here at the house. You know, talking about scripts and walking on the beach and all. Too bad I didn't know you wanted to meet her, Phil. I would have had you over or something.”

  “Maybe next time. When is she coming back down to Los Angeles?”

  Tom had to think on that. “Hmm. I don't know. She wanted some time to start on the scripts before I see them. I'll probably go north and surprise her. I'd like to see where she lives. She's a terrific person, Phil.”

  “Yeah. Sounds like it,” was the quiet response. “Thanks for the update, Thomas. I'm glad everything went well. I'll see you soon.”

  Phillip pondered his strange reaction to the news about Bunny. He felt like he was an outsider on something he himself had helped initiate. He felt Bunny was his special fan and he was jealous of Tom's association with her. Yes, it was jealousy, he admitted. Even though he hadn't been interested in her personally, he now resented Tom's apparent interest—whatever the reason behind it. If only he had sent her the script pages she had requested. If he had written more to her than just a few measly lines. If only he had been able to go to that blasted convention. If he just hadn't given Tom the book she had sent for him. He should have been at the meeting with Avery. After all, it was because of his original phone call that Bunny was even in the position she now held. It was he who should have taken her to celebrate at Charney's, he thought. It was he who should have strolled with her on the beach and then lit a fire to ward off the chill of the evening….

  As soon as Phillip noticed he was pacing, it abruptly stopped as he stared at a photograph on his desk. It was a beautiful blond woman, a darling tow-headed four-year-old, and himself. Sarah and Davey. His wife
and son. He looked down at the wedding band on his left hand as his pulse seemed to throb under the gold and diamond ring.

  All the negative feelings about his good friend Tom flooded away. All the what-ifs concerning Bunny left his mind as he sat heavily on his sofa. He had no right, no claim on Bunny. He was a married man. Even though his abrupt trip to France proved all the awful things Sarah had told him were true—that he no longer had a family—he was still married. He had made vows and promises.

  Exhaustion encompassed Phillip as he put his head back on the sofa and closed his eyes. “Sorry, Bunny.”

  CHAPTER 10

  “She doesn’t know what she’s doing, Jan! She’s in over her head!” Wayne fumed angrily as he stormed around Janice’s apartment.

  Surprised by his sudden outburst, Janice remained silent. He had shown up unexpectedly at her door and hadn’t even waited for an invitation to enter. Ever since the convention Wayne had been getting more and more angry at Leslie. Now that she was back from Los Angeles, he was livid.

  He continued his tirade without waiting for or apparently wanting any reply from Janice. “She doesn’t know what kind of people she’s dealing with. They’re going to devour her. Sure, they pretend they like you, but they’ll knife you in the back! Especially those actors!” he spat out, gesturing madly.

  “Wayne!” Janice pleaded from the far side of the room, as far away from his mad pacing as she could get, deciding to head off his tantrum. “Please! I’m sure you’re exaggerating. The two men we met at the convention were as nice as they could be. How would you know what they’re like? You weren’t there. And you aren’t in show business!” she pointed out.

  His head snapped around to look at her. He seemed about to say something and then thought better of it, clamping his mouth shut. He ran a shaky hand through his straight hair and finally sat down on her sofa. “I…I know what I’m talking about, Jan,” he insisted in a quieter, more reasonable voice. “I am from that area. I’ve had…dealings…with that type of people. I just don’t want to see Leslie get hurt,” he said to his feet as his head had drooped.