Impossible Glamour (6 page)

“You can have my yes vote,” Gregory said. “If—”

“Bring it, Gregory, tell me how the hell I can scratch your back.”

He took a breath, the words that came from my mouth nearly too crude for him to bear.

“If you can get Jameson Blake’s books turned into films.”

“The thriller writer?”

Gregory nodded.

“I thought Worldwide had his books locked up? Don’t they have some sort of forever option on his spy series?”

“They did,” Gregory said. “And now they don’t.”

I nodded.

“Jameson has always wanted Steve Legend to play the lead.”

My heart pitter-pattered. This I could do. This I could make happen. “Steve has a deal at Summit. They always need material. Damn, Gregory, this is a match made in heaven. Has Steve seen the books?”

“Ages ago. When Jameson was on book three, but now there are nine in the series. If you can get Steve’s company to option the first three books and start active development on
Thrill Me, Kill Me,
then I can definitely give you my vote.”

“Can’t get it done before the partner meeting. We’re talking negotiations and big-ticket money. Summit will have to come in and say yes.”

“Steve’s production company has a discretionary fund.”

Gregory wasn’t asking me a question, he was making a statement.

“Yeah, but—”

“Webber, you want my yes vote and I want Jameson’s books made into films. You don’t have to be in prep, just get the first three books under option by Steve.” Gregory hopped off the elliptical. “You’re a resourceful agent. I’m certain you can get that going in the next few weeks. Have Steve’s company make the offer and my yes vote is yours.”

I stepped off the elliptical. Easy? No. Doable? Maybe. If I scrambled my ass and got Steve’s attention. Fuck. This was the only possible avenue that Gregory was giving me to partner.

“You got it, man.” I held out my hand.

Gregory clasped it. His handshake was a little too loose for my taste, but the erudite? They always seemed a bit too low-key for me. Give me a manshake-bro-hug any day. This was Gregory, I knew what I was working with.

“Get me the offer,
Webzie,
and you have yourself another yes vote on the partnership committee.”

“Thanks, man.”

Gregory turned and walked toward
another
machine. This time that killer stair-thing. No way. Webzie was d-o-n-e. One vote down, two more partners to go. I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed Dick Munch.

“Hello?”

“What the hell, man? It’s nearly six thirty on a Thursday. Get your ass out of bed.”

“Webber?”

“Up, kid. I need to know where Steve is today, and I need all the info you can get about the Worldwide deal for Jameson Blake’s books by the time I get to the office. Which will be in about thirty. So get your lazy assistant ass up and go fetch.” I pushed the red button on the phone and headed toward the showers. I’d get Steve’s development person the books today. Hit Steve up at the wedding, and damn, hopefully get the offer to Gregory while CTA was at the company retreat next week.

Steep climb. Maybe I wouldn’t need to sleep with Selena. That yes wouldn’t be too painful. The woman was smokin’. Too bad she scared Big Boy from hard-python-of-steel to oh-so-soft-shrimpy. I just had to convince myself that Selena wouldn’t rip off my head and suck out my brain after I laid her.

Ellen

“Miss Legend, can you please explain to us the reasons for a decompressive craniectomy?

I looked up from my notes. Dr. Kazowski stood in the center of the hall just outside the patient’s room that we’d all just exited. Devon, an eight-year-old with medulloblastoma. He was scheduled for surgery next week. I’d been scribbling down her words to prepare for the questions I’d get hammered with the week after spring break. Now she was asking me something completely unrelated and for which I was unprepared.

My stomach dropped to my toes. No matter how hard I studied or how hard I tried, I simply couldn’t keep ahead of Kazowski and her questions.

“I believe that—”

“Believe? Or know?” Dr. Kazowski interrupted.

My tongue darted out and I licked my lower lip. I fought the urge to place the cuticle of my thumb into my mouth.

“Believing and knowing is the difference between saving and killing.”

Wow. When she put it like that. “Then no, Dr. Kazowski, I don’t
know
the answer to your question. My answer would be, at best, an educated guess.”

“Unprepared. First you’re late and now you attend rounds with limited knowledge. I must say, Miss Legend, I’m unimpressed with your skills, whereas your sister certainly knows how to lie nearly naked on a beach for photographers. Perhaps you are better suited for such a career?”

My cheeks flamed. I ground my teeth together. I would not respond. What my famous family did or didn’t do had no bearing on my career, but Kazowski seemed to think she could toss my family out and shame me. Well, she’d succeeded. Again I wished to fall through the floor and not be seen.

“Need I remind you that this rotation is just as important as your last three? While you received stellar marks on those, I’m beginning to think your teaching doctors were much more enamored with the surname Legend than I will ever be. Come prepared to round, Miss Legend, or don’t come at all.”

“Yes, Doctor.” I couldn’t fight her. I had to be stoic and take whatever she delivered. That was just how it worked in third-year rotations. You got what you got, and I’d gotten Kazowski.

She turned and led the entire group down the hall to the last room. I wanted to run and hide or maybe even find a way to disappear from rounds, but we only had one more patient. Instead, I followed to the next room where Dr. Kazowski stood just outside the door. Her resident handed her his laptop, which contained all the information needed to assess the progress of this patient, Mark Keswick, a kid who was terminal. There was no way to save him. Surgery had gone well, but his cancer had come back with a vengeance. Kazowski had already had the conversation with Mark’s parents and they’d decided he needed to go home. The door to Mark’s room was closed.

“This will be our final round with Mark,” Kazowski said. “Keep it positive. Upbeat, but not patronizing.” Her gaze scanned the group. “Are we clear?”

Everyone nodded. A lump lodged in my throat. There was no crying in medicine. Number one rule—no tears from doctors in the hospital. Completely forbidden. Kazowski opened the door and a bark greeted us.

What the heck?

My eyes widened.

Oh. No. I took a long breath. The female residents and third-years in my group were wide-eyed and started doing the female hair-grooming thing that went along with being in close proximity to good-looking actors that had starred in blockbuster films.

I wasn’t starstruck. I knew this guy really well. He was married to my half sister’s best friend and I spent holidays with the MacAvoy family. I was going to be a bridesmaid this weekend in Dillon’s brother’s wedding. I pushed to the back of the group, hopeful that neither Dillon nor Webzie, who’d accompanied Dillon to the hospital, would see me. With Kazowski, being recognized and called out by a huge celeb was the last thing I needed.

“Hey, little man, looks like your fan club just arrived.” Dillon shot Mark the smile that graced magazine covers, billboards, and also made women swoon. He turned to Dr. Kazowski and held out his hand. “Dillon MacAvoy.”

Did Kazowski…blush? She patted her hair and then shook Dillon’s hand.

“Webber and I just stopped by to ask Mark to take care of this pup for us.” Dillon nodded toward the golden retriever who wore a blue Helper Pet vest and was curled up on the bed beside Mark. This program, as well as Pawtown, were the main charities that Dillon funded and lent his famous face to support. He’d been running the Helper Pet program for going on five years at Cedars-Sinai and had just gotten permission to expand to UCLA Children’s Hospital.

I glanced at Mark’s parents. They stood beside the bed. His mom looked weary. How did you watch your child die? I couldn’t imagine the pain. Mark’s father had his arm around his wife. There was this tiny glimmer of happiness when they looked at Mark hugging his new dog. Mark wouldn’t have much longer with his parents, but right now he was happy. Thrilled. He threw his arms around the dog’s neck and pulled him close.

“Look what Dillon brought me!” Mark said.

I bit my bottom lip. The lump in my throat grew bigger. I glanced at my colleagues. Yep. At least I wasn’t the only one feeling this moment. Even Kazowski, whom I was pretty certain had donated her own heart to the organ-transplant program, looked as though her smile was tight as pain sliced through her eyes.

“And what is this guy’s name?” Kazowski asked and reached out her hand to pet the golden.

“Xander,” Mark said.

She smiled. She looked at Dillon. “Mr. MacAvoy, it looks like you’ve made another great match. I’ve been Mark’s doctor for a long while, and he is a responsible young man with a huge heart. I know he’ll take great care of Xander.”

Mark’s mom pressed her fingertips to her mouth and turned her head into her husband’s arm.

Yeah. How to hold it together? I didn’t know. I clamped my lips together, my gaze trailing from Mark, Dillon, and then to Webber. He stood on the other side of Dillon at the head of the bed. His gaze locked with mine. My eyes widened. I shook my head, begging, no pleading, with my eyes, that Webzie please, please, please—

“Hey, is that a Legend back there?”

My heart toppled to my toes. Nope. Webber had no discretion or sense of decorum. To him, any publicity was good and that included calling me out at the most inappropriate time and in front of a doctor who seemed to loathe my famous family.

Dillon turned away from Kazowski. “Hey, Ellen.” He stepped forward and through my classmates who might die from sensory overload due to the nearness of one of the biggest celebrities on the planet. He clasped me into a big hug. “I didn’t know this was part of med school.”

I nodded. “Please,” I whispered into his ear, “don’t make a big deal.” He pulled back and his gaze caught mine. Dillon got it. He was a little bit more tuned in to other people’s needs than the Webzie.

“Gotcha,” he whispered. He turned his back to me and focused on Kazowski. “Dr. Kazowski, thank you. This program has everything to do with your saying yes and letting us expand to UCLA.”

Kazowski puffed up a little in front of everyone in the room.

“We’ll get out of your way. Mark, you’ve got my number,” Dillon said. “You call me anytime you have any questions about taking care of Xander. I know he’s found an awesome home with you.”

The boy, whose little body was failing, still had a whole lot of love to give. He grinned from ear to ear. “Thanks, Dillon. I’ll take good care of him.” His little hand stroked the side of Xander. The dog turned and licked Mark’s fingers.

“I know you will.” Dillon nodded to Mark’s parents. “Webber, let’s give these doctors some room to do their thing.”

Dillon turned toward the door and Webber followed. He stopped just in front of Kazowski. Please Webber, no, no, no…

“You’re Dr. Kazowski?” Webber asked.

Kazowski’s brow arched. I recognized that look because she often shot it my way. “I am.”

“Wow, just wow. Ellen raves about you and what an amazing physician you are. This little guy has the best doc in the world, and these brainiacs”—Webber hitched his thumb toward all of us—“are lucky to learn from you.”

He jutted out his hand and shook Kazowski’s. Her brows creased as though trying to determine if Webber was for real.

“Really, I’m honored to meet the best surgeon in the world.”

Kazowski’s brows slowly unfurrowed as she surmised that Webber was sincere.

“Ellen”—Webber pointed to me—“see you at the wedding this weekend. Gonna rock that wedding out.” Webber winked and followed Dillon out of the room.

I forced a smile onto my face. Every eye was on me. That was pretty low-key for Webber. I looked over at Kazowski. Webber might have just helped me out, because while the look on Kazowski’s face wasn’t exactly one of pleasure, it definitely wasn’t the hard glare I’d grown accustomed to receiving. I bent my head and looked at my notes. Best to try to keep a low profile for the rest of rounds. Just this room, and then for this long tough week I was done. Next week? Well, next week I was on vacation.

Ellen

“Oh my God!” Choo sauntered into the suite where three makeup artists worked. I sat in the center chair with my half sister, Amanda, to my left and Sophia, my twin, on my right. “We’ve got to get photos of the three Legend girls together. These will be worth more than the pictures of the wedding.” He looked at his assistant, Betty. “Go get Julio.”

My heart sank to my toes. Not only did I feel as though I wore a tight mask of goop on my face, but this public-private moment wasn’t easy for me. I felt like a fish on a bicycle with the hair, the makeup, and the gown that I knew was next, just as soon as my face was finished. I loved being with Amanda and Sophia, and my two sisters seemed to have started to get along. My twin had mellowed since she’d fallen in love with Trick.

“T minus ninety minutes, people. Okay? I mean we’re all looking lovely, but it’s go time soon,” Choo said.

Julio, the famous fashion photog who’d agreed to shoot Choo and Jackson’s wedding, followed Betty into the room.

“Oh my.” His jaw dropped like he’d just walked into the Sistine Chapel for the first time when he saw the three of us lined up in various stages of prep.

“I know.” Choo sipped his champagne. “To die for, right?”

“Anna will wet herself for these.” Julio snapped pics. Of course Sophia turned on her high-watt charm. What was that? How did she
do
that?

Amanda had grown up with photogs in her face. The daughter of Steve and Joanna Legend, she’d survived the spotlight her entire life. So this, a little prewedding photography by one of the world’s greatest photographers, didn’t rock her boat.