TWO YEARS LATER
“IS SHE HERE “YET?” asked the producer.
A nervous-looking production assistant, one hand holding a clipboard and the other the side of her head, strained to hear through her earpiece. “Her limo is three minutes out. There’s a lot of Midtown traffic.”
“Good. Get her past that rabble outside and straight to prep. We’re running close.”
Across town, the Mound, now more commonly known to his coworkers at Goldman Sachs by his real name, Dennis Flugelbaum, emerged from the shower. As was the dressing habit of any Wall Streeter, he turned on CNBC to watch Morning Squawk, but then his phone buzzed with a text. Dennis often received texts this early; it was probably an update from the Hong Kong trading desk.
Glancing down, he saw it was from his buddy Digger. It simply read, “Turn on GMA.”
Dennis grabbed the remote and changed to ABC.
“Welcome back this hour to Good Morning America. I’m your cohost George Stephanopoulos. Our next guest is the daughter of Hollywood film star Camille Thornton, an emerging star in her own right, and rumored to be the new face of Revlon, all at the tender age of twenty-one. If you’re one of the few that doesn’t know her already, you will soon. I’m speaking of Lulu Harris.” The camera lens drew back to reveal Lulu emerging from side stage to the audience’s enthusiastic applause. She wore an Alexander McQueen leather jacket and a tight red-and-white tartan skirt. She sat on the high stool next to Stephanopoulos, allowing the producers to keep Lulu’s long legs in the shot.
“Lulu, welcome to Good Morning America. So great to have you here.”
“Thank you, George, although I don’t know how you get up this early every day!”
Stephanopoulos and the audience dutifully laughed.
“So, I happen to have an advance copy of something here that you may not have seen yet.” He reached down and produced a large glossy magazine, which he held up. The cover revealed a head shot of Lulu. “This is On the Avenue and it reads, ‘Lulu Harris, a New Kind of It Girl.’ Congratulations to you.”
“Thank you.” Lulu smiled. It was okay to smile once you were on the summit looking down, she’d decided. Besides, it was time for Lulu 3.0.
“What a remarkable story. After you left college, you joined your long-estranged mother, Camille Thornton, in Hollywood and took a small role in her movie Gender Games.”
“Yes, well, Camille was wonderful to me and I was just grateful for the opportunity.”
“And what an opportunity it turned out to be. As everyone knows, Gender Games was nominated for Best Picture last year, and many thought it should have won.”
“It was an honor for all of us just to be nominated.”
“The Jurist edged you out, of course. What did you think of it?”
“A wonderful film and a deserving winner. So moving.” In truth, Lulu thought it the most tedious two hours of her life. Some Supreme Court judge comes out of the closet? Who the hell cares?
“It certainly has put your mother back in the spotlight.”
“Was she ever out of it?”
The audience laughed.
“Speaking of your mother, you two were estranged for many years. How is your relationship?”
“Just wonderful. We’re the best of friends.” Sure, when it’s convenient.
“Well, your role in Gender Games, while small, got you noticed, and you now have a significant supporting role in a new film coming out this Friday called The Indecent. Tell us about that.”
“Well, I play a suburban au pair who has a secret affair with my employer, who is married of course. But he’s quite controlling, and my character is quite malleable, so my existence becomes subsumed to his.”
“Now, I understand there’s been some controversy about this.”
“Has there?”
“I’m sure you saw there were some protesters outside.”
“I saw one or two. I thought they were lost.”
The audience laughed on cue.
Stephanopoulos’s brow furrowed slightly. “Some see the subservient nature of your new role as not being, well, very modern. The man is in control.”
“They are certainly entitled to their opinions.” No matter how stupid they are.
“Lulu, you first came to national prominence with a protest against gender violence at Devon University, didn’t you? You gained almost iconic status in certain circles, particularly feminist ones. Those supporters now seem to be turning on you, both because of this film and the rumor that you will be the new face of Revlon. They see the beauty industry as, and I’m quoting one blogger here, ‘a multibillion-dollar industry that preys on and profits from women’s deepest insecurities about their bodies.’”
Another dumb cow, Lulu thought. And wasn’t this interview supposed to be softballs? It was Good Morning America, for Christ’s sake. Wait till she got her agent on the phone.
“Well, George, I can’t comment about Revlon, but don’t you think that women should be able to decide for themselves how they want to present themselves? Aren’t we supposed to be empowered to make our own choices? If you want to strive for beauty, that should be your personal choice, your truth. If you want to grow hair under your arms and shave your head, that’s your choice, too. Just don’t expect anyone to want to look at you, know what I’m saying?”
Stephanopoulos looked taken aback, but the audience laughed.
By the end of the segment, the protest had doubled in size as word spread quickly. Hell hath no fury like a movement scorned. ABC assigned two burly security personnel in black suits to get Lulu from the side door to her idling limousine. Staffers had created a small channel through the phalanx of pink hair and body piercings.
Lulu and her guards reached the door and one said, “We’re gonna hustle to the car, do you understand?”
Lulu nodded. As they emerged, the protesters screamed in anger. Lulu and her bodyguards walked quickly, but then Lulu stopped. “Wait.”
“Excuse me?” said the first bodyguard.
Lulu didn’t answer. She just stood her ground amid the growing chaos. Not my first rodeo, bitches. She held both her hands out in a universal gesture meant to ask for silence. Incredibly, the racket subsided. For the moment, curiosity trumped outrage.
“My friends…” Lulu tilted her head back and screamed, primally, the sound of it echoing in the canyon-like side streets of Manhattan. It was as loud, loud as any scream issued from the steps of Duffy Hall, but then she abruptly stopped. The protesters seemed at a loss. Was Lulu, their Lulu, returning to their embrace? Lulu stared, absorbing their confusion.
Then she laughed.
That it was a mocking laugh was immediately understood.
“In the car, now!” said the first bodyguard, who practically carried her to the limo and slammed the door shut. As soon as that happened, the crowd turned into a mob, screaming and banging their fists on the car. As it pulled away, Lulu turned to look out the back window.
She smiled.