Hollywood Girls Club (35 page)

*

Mitsy pushed open the bookshop door and the bell above tinkled. The cool air was refreshing. Mary Anne inhaled, drinking in the familiar scent of paper, glue, and ink on the page. She looked around, glancing at her first childhood love: books. The shop was quaint with a warm atmosphere.
Well-loved
was the description that popped into Mary Anne’s mind.

She wandered toward the fiction section, admiring the titles and the authors’ names on each spine. It was a secret wish of Mary Anne’s that she, like Mitsy, would write a book one day. Mitsy’s laugh drew Mary Anne out of her bibliophilic reverie. She turned toward Mitsy, who now stood next to a gorgeous man.

“Mary Anne, I want you to meet Adam,” Mitsy said, smiling at the tall man with glasses and curly dark hair.

“Hello,” Mary Anne said. She extended her hand and hoped it wasn’t shaking.

“I was just telling Adam about your newest script. It seems he’s a writer, too,” Mitsy said. “Adam, do you mind?” Mitsy asked, pointing toward the back of the shop.

“No, please. It’s around the corner and to your left.”

Mary Anne and Adam watched Mitsy’s outline recede.

“Your mother is really something,” Adam said. “I read a bio of her in
Publishers Weekly
. Amazing how she wrote her books years ago and just gave them away as gifts for years and years.”

“Yes, we never knew just how talented she was.”

“Well, talent seems to run in the family,” Adam said, eyeing Mary Anne. “Your mother raves about you. She’s very excited about your premiere.”

Mary Anne blushed.
Was he flirting with her? Or just being friendly?
She wasn’t good at reading those signs.

“Yes, it’s all very exciting,” Mary Anne said. The conversation seemed to stall.

“It’s lovely, your shop,” she blurted. “How long have you had it?”

“About five years,” Adam said. “I was in New York before this, writing plays mostly. But my great-aunt left me the shop in her will, and I thought it had to be the perfect opportunity to make a change.”

Mary Anne let her fingers drift along the spine of the book she’d been flipping through.

“
Skinny Dip
. Have you read it?” Adam inquired.

“No, but Hiaasen is one of my favorite authors.”

“Brilliant, isn’t he? You’ve heard they’re turning it into a film?” Adam asked.

Mary Anne had heard. In fact, she was desperate to do the adaptation, but this one time decided to play dumb.

“Really?” she said.

“Yes. But Hiaasen is a tricky adaptation, don’t you think? So difficult to capture his tone.”

“You’re right!” Mary Anne said, self-consciousness giving way to enthusiasm. “But every adaptation is about the essence of the book, the voice really, not just the plot.”

Adam smiled. “If you like Hiaasen, you know what else you’ll like?” With a twinkle in his eye he waved her forward, pulling a book from the shelves. “Now, give this a read, and then we should see the movie. Talk about a tricky adaptation.”

Did he just ask me on a date?
Mary Anne wondered.

“Mary Anne, we should go,” Mitsy called from the front door. “We have the car dealership after lunch.”

Mary Anne looked at her mother, wishing that she and Adam had another moment alone.

“Take it,” Adam said, handing Mary Anne the book. “Just promise to see the movie with me as soon as you’re finished.” Mary Anne blushed.

“I’d love to,” Mary Anne said.
Please God, don’t let me fall over anything,
Mary Anne begged as she backed toward the front of the shop. She followed Mitsy and gave Adam a quick wave and a smile as she pulled shut the door.

“He’s a cute one,” Mitsy said, grinning and putting on her sunglasses.

“Mother,” Mary Anne said, not completely disagreeing this time with her mother’s taste in men.

Chapter 35

Celeste Solange

Celeste glanced around at the empty remains of her and Damien’s Hollywood Hills home. The house had sold quickly in L.A.’s hot real-estate market. (Telling people that Celeste Solange and Damien Bruckner slept there added a huge amount to the selling price.) The cleaners were thorough. All that remained was a pile of mail sitting on the kitchen counter and a pair of Prada flats next to the front door. She never wore flats, so it had to be a pair of her housekeeper’s old shoes. Celeste lifted an official-looking envelope, the return address from Howard Abromawitz. Inside were the divorce papers. The prenup was still in place, and Celeste would receive all that had been negotiated between her and Damien prior to their marriage. That, and her freedom. She glanced through the documents. Yellow tabs pointed to the places she needed to sign. Happy to have this chapter in her life closed, she pulled a pen from her bag.

She put the papers in the already pre-addressed and prepaid envelope and sealed it.
Finished.
She picked up the rest of the mail and placed it in her purse. Turning to leave, she took one last look out the kitchen window. All of Los Angeles sprawled out beyond her pool. This was her final farewell to an unhappy home, a disastrous marriage, and a disheartening lifestyle.

Celeste would stay at the Four Seasons until after the
Seven Minutes Past Midnight
premiere. Then she and Ted were headed to New York. He’d convinced her to at least try his beloved Manhattan for a while. Nothing definite; she didn’t have to stay. In fact, Ted had made it very clear he’d live wherever she chose. Just as long as they were together.

Walking toward the front door, Celeste spotted the
Enquirer
lying on the staircase. One of the cleaners must have forgotten their reading. She reached for the magazine and a giggle escaped her lips. There, plastered on the front page, was Brie Ellison, topless, groping a dark-haired, tattooed girl.

BRIE BUSTS OUT OF THE CLOSET, the headline read. The second page contained a salacious story about Damien walking in on Brie in a compromising position with her new assistant. Celeste surmised . that the only way this could have offended Damien and ended their relationship was if the girls had no interest in his joining their affair. She wondered what Damien would do now. Brie had just fallen out of
Borderland Blue
, Damien’s film, while it was in preproduction, and there wasn’t anyone to take the role. Damien’s movie was finished unless he found a star.

Celeste’s phone rang as she pulled shut the front door for the last time. She walked to her Town Car, fished her phone from her purse, and glanced at the number.

“Jess, how are you feeling?” Celeste was thrilled that her former agent and now manager had finally decided to leave CTA. This change was, Celeste believed, the very best thing for Jessica’s career.

“You will never believe who just called,” Jessica said.

Celeste sat in the car’s leather seat. She glanced at the
Enquirer
and smiled.

“Let me guess. Damien?” Celeste asked.

“How did you know? Did he call you first?”

“No. Have you seen the
Enquirer
today?”

“No,” Jess said. “But it’s all over
Variety
that Brie dropped out of the movie due to a family problem.”

“If you call your female lover a family problem,” Celeste said. “You know what he wants,” Jessica exhaled. “They’ll meet your quote. It’s twenty million dollars plus back-end gross.”

“I just don’t know,” Celeste said, unsure that she wanted to spend the next three months on a movie set with her ex-husband.

“I told him it was a long shot. In fact, I was surprised that he even got Summit to make the offer. They’ve put Dennis in the other role and Bradford Madison has signed on for the third lead. It’s a great script, Cici. I can’t advise you to take it; you’d be stuck with Damien every day. But it’s splashy and well written, and I know every A-list actress in town wants the part, now that Summit has stepped up with some real money for the role. They came to you first.”

Celeste thought about it. She’d always loved the script and had desperately wanted to play the part. She knew she didn’t have to ask Ted, but she wanted to speak with him before making her decision.

“I want to talk to Ted,” Celeste said, twirling a lock of her blond hair in her fingers. “It shoots in New Zealand, right?”

“Actually Prague.”

“Ugh, they have the worst food,” Celeste said, “and they never wash their hands.”

“Well, think about it. It’s always good to have your next film booked before your last one premieres. We’ve got the offer to do the film from Summit for the next twenty-four hours. Speak to Ted and then let me know.”

“‘Kay. Will I be seeing you and Mike tonight?”

“Of course. But I can’t promise how late I’ll be there. My ankles are huge. I swear I look like an elephant. You should see the shoes I have to wear. Flats! Can you believe it? No heels for the next four months. I guess my arches will love it.”

“Not with all the extra weight.” Celeste smiled.

She’d never seen Jessica look so beautiful nor be so happy. “When do you fly to New York?” Jessica asked, a hint of sadness in her voice.

“Tomorrow evening. I have to tell you, I’m a little nervous, but Ted tells me I’ll love it. Plus, he promises his jet can bring me back to L.A. whenever I want.”

“It’s perfect, Cici. Okay, I have to take this other call. So I’ll see you tonight. And let me know. You have twenty-four hours to decide on this. Then Summit is moving on to Sandy. Production starts in three weeks. Talk to Ted.”

Celeste watched as the Hollywood Hills rushed by her. She knew Ted wouldn’t care if she went to Prague to do Damien’s film. It really would, she knew, save Damien’s career. Otherwise, he was dead, with this film falling apart and his last one tanking. And his finances weren’t too bright, either, with all the alimony he shelled out to Amanda and now her. Ugh. Why was she even thinking of being nice to that asshole?
Because I am an actress. Good roles and great films are what I live for
. Well, that was the answer, then, she guessed. She’d have to do it. And Ted would just have to learn to love Prague.

Chapter 36

Lydia Albright

Lydia walked into her bungalow on the Worldwide lot. She looked over at the tower of power, pleased that the executive suite was now vacant. She glanced at
Variety
. The headlines screamed her success: MIDNIGHT MINTS MONEY. Opening weekend,
Seven Minutes Past Midnight
bashed box-office records, pulling in a whopping $240 million over three days. Without qualification, that was a huge success. Lydia knew that on this Monday morning she was at the pinnacle of her success as a producer. The final numbers would be astounding. The film would run all summer in theaters and they still had the international releases. Never mind the DVD sales, which would be phenomenal.

Ted Robinoff had called Lydia Saturday night and asked her to produce the sequel. Of course she’d agreed. And Sunday, Worldwide Business Affairs had called Jessica to close deals for Lydia as producer, Mary Anne as writer, Cici to star, and once again Zymar to direct. It rarely happened that everyone came back for the sequel of a film, but they had, each of them, agreed to work together again. Lydia had spoken with Mary Anne yesterday. Already they had the kernel of an idea that would be a wallop of a sequel. Ted was pushing hard for a release next summer. With all the action sequences and effects, that meant they needed to get into production fast. Lydia wanted a start date in September (Cici would have returned from shooting Damien’s film in Prague), which gave Mary Anne enough time to complete at least two passes on the script.

Zymar was scheduled to meet with Mary Anne today. He’d been lazing by Lydia’s pool when she left for the office that morning.

“Love how you directors live between films,” Lydia teasingly called to him from their bedroom window.

“Got to enjoy success when it comes to you, Lyd. Never know what the next one’s gonna bring.” He smiled up to her as he sipped his coffee by the pool. “You producers work too much. Christina’s already left for the office. ‘Ow bout taking the day with me and driving up the coast in that fancy new car of yours?” He was referring to Lydia’s new convertible Bentley.

A present from Ted Robinoff for all her hard work, as well as, Lydia believed and Cici confirmed, an apology for Arnold’s behavior.

“This weekend,” Lydia called back.

There wasn’t anything that would keep her away from the office today. Today Lydia Albright, mega-producer, had all the juice in town. Any project she wanted, just tell the studio the title. Box-office records didn’t often get blown to smithereens, but when they did, to the victor went the spoils. She knew that between this huge success, Ted feeling guilty, and Arnold no longer running Worldwide, she had a moment. A small window of time to get moving every project she was attached to produce. Lydia had an agenda, and she had the next five days to carry it out.

Lydia hit the door knowing that everyone would be calling or e-mailing her with congratulations. And indeed, she’d barely been able to enter her bungalow because of the half dozen huge bouquets lined up in the waiting room. But she needed to stay focused. Speak to each studio head who called, press them to move on all the films she had at each of their studios. Get them to make the big money offers to the stars she wanted.

“You’ve got a hundred and seventeen calls,” Toddy said, “and that’s just from last night.”

All six lines were ringing. And Lydia’s new second assistant was struggling to keep up.

“Help her,” Lydia said to Toddy, walking into her office. “I’ve got Ted Robinoff on line one,” Toddy called out.

Lydia put on her headset. “Ted!” Lydia beamed. “So you’re pleased with the numbers?” she asked coyly.

“
Pleased
isn’t the word, Lydia. I’d say thrilled.”

“Good. I can’t wait for the next one. Mary Anne and I worked on it yesterday and I think it’s going to be really good.”