by Maria Geraci
“On what?”
“My manuscript.”
“Oh, well, give me a couple of weeks at least.”
“Are you really going to read it?”
“Of course I am. I said I would, right?”
My cell phone buzzes. I glance at my screen but I don’t recognize the number. “Hello,” I say.
“Is this Emma Frazier?” asks a deep male voice that I instantly recognize. My heart begins to pound. I whisk my chair back to the privacy of my cubicle.
“Yes, this is she.”
“Miss Frazier, this is Chuck Miller, Trip Monroe’s manager. Can we talk?”
chapter nineteen
I meet Chuck for lunch at Jackson’s on Harbor Island and we get a table by the water. I’m sweating, but Chuck looks cool as a mint julep. Here is how our conversation went down:
“How did you find me?” I ask.
“Your card, remember? Trip is extremely embarrassed that you witnessed his unfortunate reaction to the cold medication he’s taking. It’s my fault, really. I should have been monitoring him closer.” Chuck gives me a smile that I’m sure has won over many a female.
I, however, am not just any female. I am a serious journalist and Chuck needs to know this right off the top. “Trip was drunk and he thought I was a hooker. And so did you. That’s why you laughed when I showed you my card.”
Chuck feigns a shocked expression. “I called you a hooker?”
“Not exactly.”
“Miss Frazier, if I said or did anything that you interpreted as disrespectful, then I apologize. As for Trip, the cough syrup made him temporarily act out of character. You’d think the FDA would regulate the alcohol levels in that stuff better.”
The Catfish Cove Community Theatre would probably love to get their hands on Chuck. Good male leads are hard to come by.
“Let’s say I buy all this. Am I getting an interview?”
“Of course you’re getting an interview.”
I try my hardest to keep a poker face but it’s all I can do not to pump my fist in the air in triumph. I’m getting an interview! I’m not going to be fired. Everything is going to be all right, after all.
The waiter brings us our food and Chuck waits till he’s gone to speak again. “You’re getting an exclusive interview. Trip hasn’t done one of those in a long time,” he says (as if I didn’t already know this).
“So, Trip remembers me? From high school?”
“Trip couldn’t stop talking about you. Said you were great friends and all.”
I can’t help but be disappointed by this little white lie. “Uh-huh. I guess that’s why he practically accosted me.”
Chuck ignores my sarcasm. He pulls out his smart phone and starts scrolling. “Let’s say a week from Wednesday? We can do the interview at Trip’s beach house in Naples. We’ll have a driver pick you up.”
“Why not do the interview today?”
“Trip is on his way to California for a little R and R.” Chuck reaches into a thin leather satchel and hands me what appears to be a legal document. “You’ll have to sign this. Standard operating procedure and all that.”
I stare down at the papers in my hand. “I’ve never signed a contract before an interview.”
“I suppose most manatees aren’t too fussy about the sort of exposure they’re going to get, are they?”
“How do you know about my manatee article? That issue won’t be available until the second week of August.”
“Miss Frazier, it’s my job to look out for Trip’s best interests. You don’t think we would offer you this opportunity without making sure you were legit, do you?”
“And here I thought you were offering it to me because Trip and I were such great pals in high school.”
Chuck does not rise to the bait, but continues to smile at me blandly.
I’m a little creeped out by the fact Chuck had me investigated, but he’s right. I’ve never done this kind of piece before. Maybe this is standard operating procedure in the world of big celebrity interviews.
I tuck the document into my tote bag. “I’ll have to get my lawyer to read it first.”
“Of course,” Chuck says.
The rest of the lunch goes by uneventfully. Chuck tells me that once I sign on the dotted line, he’ll set me up with the limo driver and we can make a mutually agreeable arrangement for the drive to Naples. He pays for lunch and shakes my hand good-bye. I wait one full minute before I reach inside my bag and snatch out the papers. I begin to read the contract, but after the first page I give up and head to Torie’s office.
“This is pretty restrictive,” Torie tells me, glancing through the contract. “You can’t ask him about his love life or anything about his parents or even anything about the people who work for him.”
“The theme of the article is Zero to Hero. How am I going to show Trip’s rise to fame if I don’t mention his parents?”
Torie reads the next section aloud. “You can make absolutely no reference to the incident that occurred in the suite at the Don Cesar on July 11 of this year.” She glances up from the contract. “What incident is he talking about?”
I tell her everything.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me this sooner?” Torie demands.
“I tried calling you all day Saturday but your cell kept going to voice mail.”
Torie looks part embarrassed, part ecstatic. “I was with Kurt. We went down to Perdido Key for the weekend.”
“You just met him two weeks ago.”
“Yeah, and like you said, I’m not getting any younger. I’m fast-tracking him.”
“Good thing you’re not rushing into anything.” I know this is hypocritical of me considering how fast my relationship with Nick has developed, but that is totally different.
Torie ignores my barb and turns her attention back to the contract. “You can make no references to alcohol, drugs, or any other substances which might be construed as mind-altering. There is also to be no discussion whatsoever of the reasons behind Mr. Monroe’s decision to cut the rest of this year’s racing schedule. And here’s the kicker: Mr. Monroe will have final editing privileges.”
I let out a muffled scream of frustration. “That is completely unheard of.”
“He’s got you by the balls, Em. If you want an interview, you’re going to have to play by his rules.”
“No way am I going to sign that. There’s nothing left to ask him!”
“No signature, no interview.”
“What’s to stop me from writing what I know on my own?” I say, more to myself than to Torie. But before Torie can answer, I slump back in my chair. “Forget it.”
First off, Florida! is not a scandal rag. It would never print inflammatory material about a celebrity, or anyone else, for that matter. The magazine’s focus is Florida lifestyles and the beauty and grace of the natural environment and how man fits into that environment, blah, blah, blah. Second off, even though Trip practically assaulted me in his hotel room, I still kind of like the guy. At least I like the seventeen-year-old Trip. The one who was shy and had acne. I’d like to think that the teenage Trip is still alive somewhere, dormant, waiting for something or someone to wake him up. I want to tap into that part of Trip that existed before he became the Sexiest Man Alive and had money and women falling into his lap. But I can’t do it if I don’t get some one-on-one time with him.
“You can always ask him what his favorite color is,” says Torie. I know this is her attempt to make me laugh, but all I can see is that this is going to be the worst article ever.
I take the contract from Torie’s outstretched hand and place it back in my tote. “Okay, so back to you and Kurt. You really like him, huh?”
“Oh, yeah. Hey! The four of us need to get together for drinks. I know Kurt and Nick are going to get along great.”
I think about how Nick and Jason got along great and can’t help but feel some nostalgic sadness. Deep down I always knew Torie and Jason would never get b
ack together but this seems to cement it. Still, I have to try.
“What about Jason?”
“I don’t think Jason and Kurt have much in common.”
“Other than the fact that they’re both into you.” Torie doesn’t deny this, so I decide to plunge headfirst, for Jason’s sake. “Jason still loves you, Torie. He wants to get back together with you.”
“He told you that?”
“Well…not in so many words.” Of course, he did tell me this in so many words, but I have to allow Jason a bit of dignity here. “I can just sense it.”
“Jason is great but we had our shot,” Torie says dismissively. “C’mon, let me walk you to the elevator. I have a three o’clock I can’t keep waiting.”
I thank Torie for looking at my contract and take the elevator down to the ground floor, where I run into Amy.
I’ve never seen Amy in her work clothes before. She’s wearing a conservative-looking skirt with matching jacket and no hint of cleavage. Her heels are a moderate three inches and her hair is pulled back in a low sleek ponytail. Even her makeup is understated.
“Emma! What are you doing here?”
“I came to see Torie and get a little free legal advice.”
“Everything okay?” she asks, looking concerned. Amy is another possible recruit for the Catfish Cove Community Theatre.
“Sure, everything’s fine.”
“Good, I’m glad.” She fidgets with a legal folder in her hand.
“Well, it’s good seeing you,” I say, ready to bolt.
“Emma, wait. I was wondering…do you think we can get a drink sometime?”
“Sure. I’ll be at Captain Pete’s on Friday.” This is a flat-out lie because I have plans to drive home this weekend.
“I mean just you and me. I’ve wanted to talk to you about something for a while now.”
“Oh yeah, like what?” I tap my foot impatiently.
Amy’s face goes pink. “I know this sounds incredibly trite and all, but I’ve wanted to apologize for my behavior at Captain Pete’s that night.”
Just like that night, I feign ignorance. “I’m not sure what night you’re talking about.”
“I think you do, Emma. I called you…well, I said something to Torie while we were in the bathroom that I’m pretty sure you overheard.”
I’m surprised Amy wants to bring this up now. Is she really sorry? Or is it just an act? And if it’s an act, what does she hope to gain by it?
“Okay, Amy, you got me. Let’s call a spade a spade. You called me the ugly friend, and yeah, I heard it. But I didn’t run out and jump off a building, so don’t worry about it. Your conscience is clear.”
“That’s just it. My conscience isn’t clear. I’ve felt really bad ever since that night, and I want to make it up to you.”
Like you did when you oh so subtly suggested that Nick might be cheating on me? But I don’t say that. Instead I say, “Really, Amy, it’s not necessary.”
Amy looks defeated. “Okay, well, I’d hoped we could maybe be friends, but at the least I wanted you to know I’m really sorry.” She looks away. “I don’t have a lot of friends, Emma. Not real friends anyway. I guess I’m socially retarded. At least, that’s what Pete used to call me. Looks like he was right.”
Amy is pulling out the big guilt guns here. How can I ignore this?
“All right, here’s the deal. I’m pretty sure I’m heading up to Catfish Cove this weekend, but maybe we can catch a drink some other time. Okay?”
“Perfect! How about next Friday? Or Saturday? You name the date, the place, and the time. I’ll be there.”
“Why don’t I just give you a call?”
Amy’s face falls. “You’re not really going to call me, are you?”
“Sure I am.”
“Really? Because there’s something important I need to speak to you about. It’s kind of urgent, but it will only take a few minutes.”
I have to admit, my curiosity is now piqued. “I have a couple of minutes right now.”
“It’s guy advice,” Amy says. “And since you know the guy really well, I thought…” Her face actually goes red.
I’m flabbergasted. If this doesn’t take the cake, then I don’t know what does. Amy wants advice on how to get Ben back? From me? I’m beginning to think her ex is right. Amy is probably one of those people with a genius IQ (I mean, she did get into Harvard Law) who are somehow missing a social awareness gene.
Despite the fact that I don’t like her, I can’t help but feel sorry for her. I think about what Richard told me this morning about Ben’s ex-fiancée. I’m pretty sure that brilliant cancer-fighting-doctor-ex-fiancée trumps self-absorbed-clueless-money-grubbing-attorney.
“Amy, I think Ben has an ex in the wings that—”
“Ben? Oh, no, I wasn’t talking about Ben. I mean, he’s a great guy, but that didn’t work out. I was thinking about Jason.”
“Jason? You mean, Torie’s Jason?”
“I kind of got the impression that they’ve been broken up for a long time. Plus, she’s seeing this new guy. The one she met at Captain Pete’s the other weekend?”
Under normal circumstances I would never encourage Amy toward Jason. I hate to be a snob but she simply isn’t good enough for him.
On the other hand, Jason is a big boy and he finds Amy attractive. Jason is about to get his heart sliced and diced (if it hasn’t been already). Maybe Amy is just what he needs to get over Torie.
“I’ll be honest, I think Jason is still into Torie, but you’re right, she’s moved on. So all I can say is proceed with caution. But if you really want him, then go for it.”
“Really?”
“Sure.”
She reaches out and gives me one of her insincere hugs, only this time I think she might really mean it. “Thanks, Emma! You’re a doll.”
chapter twenty
That evening I call Ben on his cell phone and tell him I need to see him asap.
“Can it wait till tomorrow?” He sounds tired and I’d love to put this conversation off but I can’t.
I tell him it’s about the Trip Monroe story and we make plans to meet at an Irish pub near the office. Ben is obviously a regular because he greets all the servers by name.
“Nice upgrade from your usual mate,” our waiter says to Ben.
I wait till he’s gone to say, “Your usual mate?”
Ben shrugs. “Richard and I have eaten here a few times.”
I can’t help but still find that friendship kind of strange. It’s like there is a whole other side of Ben and Richard that I never knew about.
We both order a beer and the corned beef and cabbage. I show Ben the contract Chuck wants me to sign and give him Torie’s recap.
Ben scans the document and point-blank asks me what “the incident that occurred in the suite at the Don Cesar on July 11 of this year” refers to. I try to scramble my way out of telling him but he doesn’t buy it. He gives me one of his hard stares and I come clean with the whole story. How Trip was a no-show at the charity cocktail party and how Kimberly played Harriet the Spy and we got Trip’s hotel room number and how he was drunk and almost accosted me in the bathroom. By the time I finish, Ben’s face is red. “This guy deserves to have his ass kicked.”
“That’s exactly what Nick said. Richard, on the other hand, said I should have kicked Trip’s ass, which—”
“You told your boyfriend but you didn’t tell me that you were nearly raped while on the job? I’m your boss.”
For some reason, Ben’s “concern” annoys me.
“Of course I was going to tell you. Isn’t that what I’m doing now? And I wasn’t nearly raped. I know it sounds bad, but I don’t think it would have gotten that far. Trip was confused. It was the alcohol.”
“You sound like you belong on one of those pathetic daytime help shows.”
I wish I had a clever retort to this, but unfortunately, Ben is right.
“You’re not doing the interview,” Ben
announces. And then he does something totally unexpected. He rips the contract in two.
“What did you do that for!”
“Screw the interview. You need to press charges against this guy, not go off in some limo to meet him at his beach house. I thought you were smarter than this. What the hell are you thinking, Frazier?”
“What am I thinking? I’m thinking that maybe Trip Monroe is a lot more complicated than meets the eye. I’m thinking that maybe even despite this damn contract, maybe I have the upper hand here. That maybe once I can talk to him, there’ll be a tiny speck of the boy who grew up in Catfish Cove and that I can score the interview of the decade.”
Ben opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off.
“So even if all Trip says is yes and no, an interview with Trip Monroe is an interview that’s going to sell magazines and that’s what T.K. would want because that’s what’s best for Dunhill Publications, and ultimately for me and my career. That’ s what I’m thinking!”
Our waiter clears his throat. I’d almost forgotten we were out in public. He lays our plates on the table and takes off. Everyone in the restaurant is staring at us. A part of me wants to tell Ben that this is all his fault. That if he hadn’t wanted something “sexier” I would have never come up with the brilliant idea to interview Trip Monroe, but that’s ridiculous. I take a deep breath and the atmosphere in the room returns to normal. Although it wasn’t exactly professional of me to raise my voice to my boss, I have to admit, it felt good.
Ben looks at me as if he’s never seen me before. “Okay,” he says slowly. “You’re right. But you’re not going on this interview alone.”
“What? Like I need a chaperone?”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t know if Trip will be able to let loose if there’s a third wheel in the room.”
“Tough. It’s either that or there’s no interview.”
“All right.”
“That’s it? You’re giving in?”
“Yes, I’m giving in,” I say. “Unless I have a choice?”
“No.”
“Okay, then.”
I can tell Ben is suspicious of my easy capitulation, but after a few seconds he begins to dig into his corned beef and cabbage. I pick up my fork and play around with my food. I feel unsettled. Ben and I have never argued before. It feels both strange and strangely intimate.