Celebromancy (4 page)

Chapter Four

Dining with the Stars

Jane Konrad’s career has been one filled with exceptions to the rules of Hollywood. Most child stars don’t make the transition to adult fame, but the star of the then-edgy 1995 remake of
My Two Dads
(with gay parents instead of romantic rivals) and
Mermaid High School
(1999–2002) weathered a few shaky years in her late teens, including the critically-praised but instantly-cancelled
42 Heinlein St
. and a short run of middling romantic comedies—
Eyes on the Prize
(2003),
Rudolf’s Return
(2003),
Love At First Bite
(2004)—Jane returned to work with Yancy Williams, the director who discovered her for
My Two Dads
.

The mid-2000s are regarded as the pinnacle of Konrad’s career, when she found commercial success with deeper films. From her fan-favorite role as Ms. Marvel in the Marvelman film to her Golden Globe nomination for
Y: The Last Man
as Hero Brown and the Sundance hit
Young Love
.

In 2010, the twenty-eight-year-old Konrad dropped out of the spotlight, then fell back into it with a series of DUIs, topless candid shots, and a much-televised revolving-door year of rehab and counseling.

—
Staropedia
, “Jane Konrad,” updated November 17, 2011

Shooting for the day wrapped up around eight. Ree had the night off from Grognard’s, so she was waiting at a bus stop three blocks away from the set when her phone played her text-message sound file, straight from
Monty Python and the Holy Grail
: “Message for you, sir!”

Ree pulled out her phone and read the message from Drake:

Apologies for not responding sooner. And for my absence today. I’ve been waylaid. Do not worry, all is well.

Ree looked at the message, cocked her head to the side to try to decode Drake-speak, then read it again.

Waylaid? But not something dangerous?
she wondered.

Something explode in the apartment?

she texted in response.

The bus still hadn’t arrived when his response came several minutes later.

Not that kind of waylay. More later.

Huh. Drake wasn’t the sort to blow her off.

But a minute later, she got another message and thought—hoped—Drake had reconsidered, but then she read:

Want 2 do dinner? Love to chat about Act 3.—Jane

Buh?

Either someone else named Jane had mistakenly texted her with a plausibly applicable message, one of the Rhyming Ladies was pranking her, the universe was being really cruel—

Or she had just been invited to dinner by Jane Fucking Konrad.

Before realizing that she’d moved, Ree was out of the bus stop enclosure and halfway down the block back toward the set.

If a movie star asks you to dinner, you say yes.

Even if they turn out to be creepy, you get an expensive dinner and a story. This aphorism is void where prohibited (i.e., Scientology compounds).

Ree nodded to Danny as she approached, then took the steps in one bound before knocking on Jane’s door.

“Come in!” Jane shouted from inside. Her response came fast enough that it jolted Ree a bit.

She stepped inside to see the trailer, which was bigger than her first two apartments out of college. But her eyes slid instantly to Jane.

The star had changed out of her character outfit from the shoot into a club-ready getup, one that was way more Ke$ha than
Awakenings’
Allison Richmond: short (but not mini) skirt, a shoulder-less top held together by a steel ring above the chest, and about a dozen bracelets on her left arm. Her hair had about three times the volume it had that morning.

Di-damn
, Ree thought.

Jane smiled at Ree. “Great work today. Do you like sushi?”

“Sure,” Ree said, wondering if she’d missed the start of the conversation. Ree gestured at Jane’s outfit. “If that’s the dress code, I’m a little underprepared.”

Jane shook her head. “You’ll be fine. Those glasses with that outfit mean you totally own the artist look. But if you want, feel free to raid my closet.” Jane pointed over her head to a closed door near the hallway-that-goes-to-a-bedroom part of the trailer.

Ree scratched her chin in an exaggerated gesture and made for the closet. She opened the door, and when she saw the assortment, her brain’s jukebox played the
you just opened a treasure chest
stock music from a dozen games, triumph and discovery in all the majesty of MIDI.

She started at the bottom, looking past what must have been tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of shoes and boots, with heels that started at two inches and went up from there, all the way to a set of boots that she was pretty sure should be classified as stilts.

From there, she saw a small pile of designer jeans, most artfully distressed, with washes from light-dark-blue to blacker-than-obsidian. And most of the closet was taken up by a small army of hangers and a rainbow of tops and skirts.

Ree took a moment to appreciate the Warehouse 23 of clothes before her, then realized she probably shouldn’t stare. She scanned through the tops for a few seconds and pulled out a couple of pieces she thought would work. Ree didn’t have Jane’s curves, but they were close enough in stature that it should work. Plus $300 tops looked good on nearly everyone.

Turning, Ree held them up to Jane, eyebrow raised. Jane nodded. “Bathroom is the first door on the right.”

You could be getting yourself into trouble, kiddo
, a voice in her head warned.
It’s one thing to sell scripts to hot, self-destructive movie stars. It’s another to dine with them when they’re dressed to kill.

Ree walked to the restroom and flipped on the light as she closed the door. The inside of the door had a full mirror, which she used to try on the tops. The first was a loose, gauzy, and sheer white top. The size worked, since it was intentionally big, but the fact that it showed Ree’s bra did not.

Luckily, Jane had another shirt of the same cut, but in red. Much less with the
here’s my bra
effect.

Ree adjusted the shirt, fiddled with her hair, and stopped as she looked at herself in the mirror.

What am I primping for? A dinner with my employer? Clubbing with a movie star? Or a first date with a known hot mess?

Ree had the Advanced Gaydar feat (+5 bonus), but that didn’t actually ever help her in figuring out if a woman was actually interested in her. That was still a moving target of a Sense Motive check. Guys were usually really freaking obvious, at least to her (DC 10 or less). Some women were just as obvious, thankfully.

But between the heterosexual default setting that society tried to inflict on everyone, the normalized feminine homosociality that comes with it, and the celebrities-make-their-own-rules factor, Ree had no fucking clue where she stood (DC 40).

So just go have dinner and see what happens.
It’s not like a Schrödinger’s date with a movie star would be more dangerous than chasing were-suited monsters down alleyways, fighting off feral gnomes with a
tanto
, or dogfighting through high-rises while desperately trying not to look down.

Leather up.

Ree took a long breath, tucked her hair over her ear, and opened the door.

Jane was holding a snifter of booze in her hand, and took a sip as Ree emerged.

Jane’s smile carried more than a hint of sultry. “Very nice. Care for a pregame?” Jane offered the glass.

Ree shook her head as she crossed the hall back into the living area, wall-mounted entertainment center to her right, along with a Comfy Couch
™
and love seat.

“You have a place in mind?”

They continued through the room, past a kitchenette and small round table with chairs posh enough that they’d scoff at anything from Pier 1. Jane said, “I’ve heard that Yoritomo’s is good.”

“I’ve heard it is,” Ree said, nodding. “It’s also a little rich for my barkeep-and-baby-screenwriter blood.” Ree focused on opening the door in front of her, a bit embarrassed to have to admit her near-bankruptcy to the star as she stepped down out of the trailer.

“Not for mine.” Jane took a swig of her drink as her heels touched down on the concrete of the alley. The star offered Ree her arm, which she took.

“Just be warned that I’ve been known to run up a pretty good bar tab,” Ree said.
Though should I be enabling the woman who got three DUIs in a month?

No, I don’t want to answer that.

Jane nodded. “Not too much, though. We both have to work tomorrow.”

Ree matched Jane’s nod hastily. “Of course, but, well, in general.” Jane’s flop back to professional mode broke Ree’s rhythm, and she felt like she was back in college, her early years of endless awkwardness.

As they approached the street, Ree looked over her shoulder to see Danny following behind.

“Shouldn’t we wait for him?” she asked.

“I think I can handle a cab ride with company. He’ll catch up. Plus, I remember from your bio that you have a black belt.”

“Touché,” Ree admitted.

Less than ten seconds after the pair reached Douglas Street, a cab pulled up and stopped.

Let’s hear it for fame
, Ree thought as Jane opened the door to slide in. Ree joined her as Jane said, “Yoritomo’s, please.”

Ree closed the door behind her, seeing Danny walk at a slow, confident pace, his hand up for another cab. Ree felt a bit bad for him, having to alternate between demanding lots of attention to warding people off or hiding in plain sight, all at Jane’s whims.

Note to self: Cross bodyguarding off of list of fall-back professions.

P.S. You will probably have to do this anyway.
Since, you know: Magic, crazy people, monsters, etc.

Jane cleared her throat, and Ree looked back at the star, confused.

“Sorry?”

“I asked how you were liking the job so far,” Jane said.

“Ah, sorry. My brain decided to take a joyride for a minute.”

Jane leaned back in the seat, a warm smile on her face.

“It’s awesome. Watching Yancy in action is pretty amazing. And I’ve been fans of pretty much the whole cast since I was a kid.”

“Way to make me feel old,” Jane said.

“But you’re like my age.”

“Does that make me wrong, or does that make you old?”

“Let’s plead the fifth,” Ree said.

They chatted amicably for a few minutes until the cabbie deposited them at the restaurant.

Yoritomo’s was named for Minamoto no Yoritomo, founder of the Kamakura Shogunate. Ree liked to think it was named for the Legend of the Five Rings Mantis Clan Champion, but the restaurant’s distinct lack of giant
kama
meant it was probably just wishful thinking on her part.

Jane walked in like she owned the place as an eager-looking East Asian young woman held open the door for the two of them.

“Welcome to Yoritomo’s,” the woman said. She stopped for a moment, presumably recognizing Jane.

Jane gave her a generous smile and said, “Thank you,” as they entered.

The restaurant had all the stock artifacts of a P.F. Chang’s, but from Japan instead of China. And about five times as spendy. The suit of armor in a display case in the lobby looked about as expensive as the prize at Grognard’s from last night.

Ree had a momentary twinge of guilt. Before the
Awakenings
deal had come through, she’d spent many of her nights off patrolling, Batman-style. She’d tried to keep her finger on the city’s magical pulse. But now, she had other priorities.

The city got by without Ree Reyes, Geekomancer, before last fall, so it could deal for a few weeks. Drake was somewhere mysterious, and Eastwood had been in
Thunderbolts
-level Redemption Mode since Halloween.

Enjoy the ride
, she told herself.

Jane sauntered up to the hostess, the same eager young woman who’d held the door open. She had her hair back and loose over a kimono-inspired black shirt with short sleeves.

“We’d like a table for two. Somewhere private, if possible. And a table for my bodyguard.”

The woman had a really-well-dressed deer in headlights moment, looking at Jane, down to her board, back to Jane, then over her shoulder. Ree followed the woman’s gaze and saw Danny standing in wait. He gave her a quick nod of acknowledgment.

The hostess considered Danny for a moment as he took up a casual stance. She scanned out the room, looked down at her table plan, then said, “Just . . . just one moment, Ms. Konrad.” The woman left in a hurry, crisp steps echoing on the polished tiles.

“Do you get that reaction everywhere?”

Jane shrugged. “Pearson isn’t quite like L.A., at least not yet. When I go incognito, I can sometimes act like a person, but even then, I usually just get outed by paparazzi and then there are a ton of bad pictures of me all across the tabloids.”

“Damned if you do, damned if you don’t,” Ree said.

“Yeah, but at least it comes with embarrassing stacks of money that can make good things happen . . . at least when the work is flowing.”

Jane had signed on to several projects since her self-implosion, but dropped out of each of them, citing “creative differences” or “health concerns.” But Ree wasn’t about to pry about that, at least not yet.

Several other people walked into the restaurant, and each and every one of them stopped for a second when they recognized Jane. She nodded to them politely, while Danny kept them all in his gaze, nonthreatening but clearly present. One group had a fourteen-ish-year-old girl who walked up to the star and said, “I loved you in
Mermaid High School
!” The smile that inspired was broader, warmer, more genuine. The girl couldn’t have been more than two when
Mermaid High School
was canceled, but thanks to the wonders of DVD, all shows were eternal.