by Susan Lewis
Finding Cavan watching her again she smiled and realized that the next time she spoke to Antônio she would have to make sure that neither Tom nor Cavan were around. It could be that Antônio, having just witnessed Tom’s reaction to her getting involved without him, would block it too. But she had at least to try, for the elections were alarmingly close now and once Pastillano was in power the horrors the favelados would be subjected to then were going to make what was happening now look like a day on the beach by comparison.
Chapter 18
ELLEN’S CONCENTRATION ON the notes she was making appeared total. It was as though she were the only one in the room, she was so caught up in what she was doing. On the table in front of her was her leather writing case, a yellow legal pad inserted inside it, a couple of pencils with erasers and the silver pen she was using. She reached for her glass of water, took a sip, then resumed the industrious annotations she was making on a contract that had nothing to do with the one she was in the process of negotiating.
It was all an act, but she had to do something while the three studio executives, two producers, three accountants and two lawyers did the figure work on the final detail of the five-million-dollar-plus package they had been discussing for the past three weeks. It wasn’t only the fee that was causing them a problem, it was the terms of the residual agreement and three and a half per cent share of international sales that she had thrown in just prior to this meeting. Added to that, she was now asking for a five per cent cut of any merchandise deal arising from the movie, should her client’s voice or anatomy, in whole or in part, feature in the design or promotion of said merchandise, and a guaranteed casting and seven-million-dollar fee for a sequel with a basically one-sided option to renegotiate should the original movie gross more than eighty million in its first week at the domestic box-office.
The astonishment and discomfort that had followed her surprise clauses had turned quickly to anger, then to a flat-out refusal on the part of Butch Sommers, one of the producers, to continue doing business with her. Sommers was out on a limb, for he was the only one of his team who was against Walker Nicolas taking on the role of The Traveller, the new multi-million-selling sci-fi book that had broken all records in the publishing and magazine worlds. While Sommers ranted and raved, and demanded countless withdrawals to persuade his colleagues to drop Walker Nicolas, Ellen’s client, Ellen had sat out the storm, remaining as unruffled and implacable as Foster McKenzie, the studio head who was watching her and the proceedings as carefully as his lawyers were scrutinizing the new terms and conditions she had so audaciously presented.
Until now there hadn’t been much time for her to wonder why she was taking such a gamble with her career, except she was furious at Forgon for the impossible and often idiotic tests he was throwing her way lately. It was as though he wanted to see how far he could push her before the pressure became too much and forced her to self-destruct. And she guessed, considering what she had brought to the table today, she was pretty close to it now, for even Rosa and Kip, who had come along with her, had no idea that she hadn’t discussed the last minute changes with Forgon or Nicolas, in fact they probably imagined them to be instructions rather than free-hand additions.
In truth, the fear of what she had done was making her light-headed, as adrenalin pulsed through her with a life force of its own and the reckless anger that had fuelled most of her decisions since Forgon had printed the picture of her at Clay’s house was like a whip lashing at her reason and blinding her to care or consequence.
Yet she showed none of what was going on inside her, as she sat there at the table, laboriously marking up an old contract, while the accountants and producers went outside to talk and Foster McKenzie finally got up and followed them. Ellen’s skin felt as though a thousand red-hot needles were trying to break their way through, for it was a well-known fact that if McKenzie left the room after the lawyers, rather than with the lawyers, the show was all but over.
However, just under an hour later Ellen, Rosa and Kip were on their feet reaching across the table to shake hands with the opposing team. Foster McKenzie hadn’t come back with them, but for the moment Ellen was too dazed to work out what it might mean. In fact, a part of her was convinced she must still be in bed dreaming, for as she received the congratulations and good-natured teasing of her colleagues and even a grudging admiration from Sommers, she realized how convinced she had been she would fail. Indeed, she even wondered if it hadn’t been what she wanted, for she felt strangely empty now it was over, unable to connect with what was being said, even though she was responding to it fully and even joining in with the laughter and relief that all that was needed now was Nicolas’s signature on the second-to-last page.
‘I’ve got to tell you,’ Rosa said as she, Ellen and Kip, ATI’s chief legal officer, walked back to the parking lot, ‘I never thought you’d pull it off, not with that one-sided option thrown in. Geez, whatever made them buy it is what I want to know?’
‘I just knew, the minute McKenzie got up and walked out, we were sunk,’ Kip declared. ‘In fact, someone pinch me and tell me again we just got ourselves a deal, because in all my fifteen years of dealing with McKenzie I’ve never known him walk out of a meeting last without it meaning the deal was off.’
‘Did you see the way he was looking at you?’ Rosa said to Ellen. ‘I swear he was waiting for you to break. Christ, the way you held out over that three and a half per cent … I’ve never seen anything like it. It put the fear of God into me. I really thought you were going to blow it. I’m telling you, McKenzie might not show it, but he was mad as hell when you stood your ground and I for one was convinced he was going to walk then.’
‘Me too,’ Ellen confessed.
Rosa turned to look at her, saw the humour shining in her eyes, then started to laugh. ‘It’s no wonder Forgon put you in to seal this one up. You’re so damned cool you make Zen look like a neurosis. Or does Forgon know Foster McKenzie’s got the hots for you?’
‘He does not have the hots for me either,’ Ellen laughed, digging into her purse for her keys.
‘Oh, excuse me, just three invitations to dinner and no doubt a personal request to Forgon that you handle the negotiations on this deal.’
‘Wrong way round,’ Ellen informed her. ‘McKenzie was livid when he heard I was taking over.’
Kip was laughing. ‘Because Forgon had just dealt from the bottom of the pack,’ he declared. ‘Anyway, my car’s up on the next level. I’ll catch you two back at the office.’
Rosa and Ellen got into Ellen’s car and as she drove them out on to Lankershim Boulevard Ellen was speaking on the phone to Walker Nicolas’s manager, letting him in on the good news. By the time she finished they had left the Valley and were crossing the lights on Sunset, heading towards the next major junction at Santa Monica.
‘We’re invited to Walker’s for a party tonight,’ Ellen said, dropping the phone in her lap. She glanced over at Rosa. ‘Interested?’
‘Are you kidding?’ Rosa laughed. ‘I’d lie on my back and catch peanuts with my chuff for that man. Is he still with Samara Vito?’
Ellen was laughing. ‘I’m afraid so,’ she confirmed.
‘No taste,’ Rosa muttered. ‘So, what about Foster McKenzie?’ she went on, folding her arms and crossing her long, skinny legs.
‘What about him?’
Rosa rolled her eyes. ‘Ellen, the man is head of one of the biggest movie studios in the world, he’s currently getting divorced, he’s not half bad looking and he’s asked you out three times already. So when are you going to quit the aloof act and do what any right-minded woman in your position would do and offer up your tarnished virtue in exchange for the endless privileges this man can bestow?’
‘Who says I’m going to?’ Ellen countered.
‘Sure you are. No one turns a man like McKenzie down for long. Unless they’ve got something seriously wrong with them, of course.’ Her head came round. ‘Do you have something seriously wron
g with you?’ she asked.
Ellen grinned. ‘He doesn’t do anything for me,’ she said.
‘What!’ Rosa cried in disgust. ‘All that power and he doesn’t do anything for you! Jesus Christ, Ellen, did you get an imagination bypass, or something?’
‘His eyes are too close together,’ Ellen responded.
Rosa looked genuinely perplexed. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ she demanded.
Ellen shrugged.
‘Listen to me, honey,’ Rosa said. ‘Foster McKenzie’s eyes might be too close together, but yours have got to be in your butt if you can’t see where it could land you, getting involved with him. Christ, you could kiss goodbye to Forgon right now and set up your production company with offices on the lot and projects coming in so fast you’ll be hotter than Spielberg.’
Ellen smiled. ‘Put like that, I could be tempted,’ she remarked.
‘So?’ Rosa prompted.
‘So what?’
‘So, what’s stopping you?’
Ellen glanced over at her, then, spinning the wheel hard to the right she turned on to Santa Monica and drove on towards the office.
Rosa was still waiting, but it soon became clear that Ellen wasn’t going to answer, though she probably didn’t have to for the glance had told Rosa enough. ‘Listen, honey,’ she said, bringing all the wisdom of her thirty-eight years and three disastrous marriages to bear, ‘you’ve got to get past all that business with Clay. I know he let you down real bad and he didn’t have to do it the way he did, but it’s in the past now, you can’t change it, so you’ve got to find it in you to move on.’
‘I know,’ Ellen said, keeping her eyes on the road ahead.
‘Foster McKenzie’s nothing like Clay,’ Rosa said warmly. ‘OK, he’s had his share of women and I don’t doubt there are some out there who’d cut off his balls as soon as look at him, but you haven’t been out on a date in months, Ellen, and he surely can’t be a bad place to start.’
Ellen inhaled deeply, but was saved from answering by Rosa’s cellphone ringing.
‘Hi, this is Rosa,’ she said into the handset. ‘Oh, Pollard, hi, how are you? Sure, I’m doing fine. What can I do for you?’ She paused for a moment, then her eyes suddenly lit up and she turned to look at Ellen as she gasped, ‘No kidding! You did! Pollard, you can raid my wardrobe any time. I really owe you for this.’
Ellen looked at her.
‘He’s got invites to the première of United We Fall,’ Rosa told her.
Ellen looked impressed. There hadn’t been so much fuss over a première since Evita and the tickets to United We Fall were just as hard to come by. In fact, exactly like with Evita, actors, agents, producers, directors, indeed just about anyone involved in the industry had been begging, stealing, dealing, bribing and God only knew what else, for weeks now in an effort to get themselves invited to the world première of Victor Warren’s much talked about adaptation of the modern classic. It was a very definite arbiter of who was and wasn’t on the Hollywood A list.
‘You bet,’ Rosa was saying. ‘Sure I’ll pay for the limo. I’ll have it come pick you up first unless you want to meet up at my place. OK. Whatever you say. … Are you kidding? Pollard, I’ll get you a whole bunch of Epicuran facials for Christmas, if that’s what you want. I’ll even pluck the hair from your nostrils.’
As she rang off, both she and Ellen were laughing. ‘The man’s a genius,’ Rosa declared. ‘If he weren’t gay I’d marry him. I’m afraid his friend’s gay as well, but who cares, at least we get to go to the movie. What the hell are we going to wear? Shall we go shopping tomorrow? What better excuse do we get?’
‘You mean he’s got me a ticket too?’ Ellen said.
‘Of course.’
They were stopped at red lights and Rosa could hardly believe her eyes as Ellen turned to her with a look Rosa didn’t want to understand. ‘Christ, don’t tell me you don’t want to go,’ she said.
‘It’s not that,’ Ellen responded. ‘It’s just …’ As she finished what she was saying Rosa spoke over her, so didn’t immediately hear.
‘Now this I’ve got to hear,’ Rosa was muttering, ‘because no way in the world can I think of a good enough excuse not to go to this première. What did you just say?’ she cried, her head swinging round as Ellen’s words finally registered.
Ellen’s soft brown eyes were twinkling with laughter. ‘I said, I’m already going,’ she replied.
Rosa gaped at her, struck dumb with amazement. ‘You’re going to the première of United and you never told me,’ she cried.
‘I’m sorry,’ Ellen said, pulling down the corners of her mouth. ‘I only found out last night and we’ve had other things on the agenda today.’
‘So who are you going with?’ Rosa demanded, obviously not sure whether or not to be pissed.
‘Michael McCann,’ Ellen answered and had the great satisfaction of watching Rosa’s jaw drop.
‘You mean the British guy Forgon sent you over to London to make an offer he managed to refuse?’ she said.
Ellen laughed and nodded.
‘Well how do you like that?’ Rosa muttered to herself. ‘Is he here then? In LA?’ she asked. ‘And how come he, a Britisher, gets an invite, when the rest of us red-blooded Americans have to practically sell our bodies just to get on the waiting list?’
Ellen was still smiling. ‘He’s Victor Warren’s agent,’ she said.
‘No shit,’ Rosa commented. ‘And so what, he called you up and asked if you’d like to go along to the première with him?’ she said, clearly having a hard time taking it in.
‘And Victor Warren and his wife,’ Ellen added.
‘My God, I don’t believe this,’ Rosa said. ‘I mean, what happened between you guys in London? Did you get it on, or something? I don’t blame you if you did, he’s good-looking enough to charm the pants off the Queen, should he ever be into acts of mercy, but why did you never tell me?’
‘There was nothing to tell,’ Ellen laughed, glad that Rosa had no way of knowing what a turmoil she was really in over the invitation that had come completely out of the blue. She hadn’t even known he was in LA when he called, in fact, she’d assumed he was in London, but he’d given her an LA number at which she could contact him should she need to, and unable to stop herself she’d tried it out that morning and found that he’d checked in to the Four Seasons Hotel on Doheny the day before. So he hadn’t wasted much time in calling her when he got here, which surely meant he was as keen to see her as she was to see him. Well, perhaps not that keen, as the première was still an entire week away and already she was beginning to wonder if she could stand to wait so long.
‘So, throw a party and invite him along,’ Matty said, in the kind of voice that bespoke the obvious solution.
‘I can’t do that,’ Ellen protested, almost losing her voice in a shudder of nerves.
‘Why not? All you’ve got to say is that you already had it fixed and forgot to mention it when he called, but you thought he might like to come along too.’
‘What if he says no? I’ll have to throw a party I don’t want.’
Matty threw up her hands in exasperation. ‘Ask him first,’ she said.
‘What if he’s not free on the night I choose? I can hardly say, oh sorry, I didn’t mean Wednesday, I meant Thursday?’
Matty’s darkly attractive face was incredulous. ‘That’s the whole point of asking him first,’ she pointed out. ‘And if he’s not free on the night you pick, you’ll just have to wait for the première.’
‘So which night do I choose?’
Matty rolled her eyes. ‘It’s a good job you don’t manage your career the way you manage your love life,’ she chided, ‘or we’d all be out of work. Friday or Saturday. If it were me I’d opt for Friday.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s sooner and you can’t wait to see him.’
‘Actually, I can,’ Ellen responded.
‘OK, then Saturday.’
> ‘Why not wait ’til the première?’ Ellen suggested.
Matty shrugged. ‘OK.’
Ellen signalled for the waiter to bring her another glass of wine. ‘I could do Friday,’ she said.
‘Do you have your phone?’ Matty asked. ‘Stupid question, when do you ever not have your phone? So, call the hotel now and ask him if he’s free on Friday.’
Ellen felt the bottom fall out of her stomach.
Matty’s eyes narrowed. She knew that expression well. ‘OK, I’ll do it and pretend I’m your secretary,’ she said.
Ellen passed her the phone.
Seconds later Matty was connected to the Four Seasons. ‘Michael McCann’s room, please,’ she said. While she was waiting Ellen held out her hand for the phone.
‘If he’s there I’ll speak to him,’ she said, taking it.
As she put the phone to her ear she heard him say, ‘Hello?’
Her heart did a series of somersaults, a sudden panic fried her nerve and she very nearly disconnected the call. ‘Hi, it’s Ellen Shelby,’ she said shakily. ‘Uh, how are you?’
‘OK,’ he answered, sounding surprised. ‘Where are you? What’s all the noise?’
‘I’m in a Chinese on Sunset with my cousin Matty,’ she answered. ‘I was wondering … I mean, I forgot to say when you called last night that I’m throwing a small party on Friday and I was wondering if you’d like to come.’
‘You mean this Friday?’ he asked.
Ellen tensed. He had other arrangements, he was going to say no and she wished to God already that she’d never picked up the phone. ‘Yes, this Friday,’ she answered dully.
‘What time?’
Ellen looked at Matty. ‘What time?’ she mouthed.
‘Any time he can get there,’ Matty provided.
‘Around seven,’ Ellen said, scowling at Matty. ‘It’s just drinks until nine or so.’