Chapter 28

AFTER READING EVERY last word of the article, Ellen put down the newspaper, picked up her coffee and walked on to her office. She was aware of the others watching her and wished now that she hadn’t humiliated herself like that, by stopping in full view of everyone to read the latest news on the man they all knew she was in love with.

He was back with Michelle now, they had returned to London and were living as a family in Michael’s Battersea apartment. According to the papers he was with the woman he had always loved, and the son they had created together and were now going to raise together. They had been turned into such a great love story, on both sides of the Atlantic, that it seemed the press just couldn’t get enough of them. Nor of Robbie, who was a handsome little boy, looked just like his father and seemed to enjoy all the attention they were receiving.

Robbie’s existence had explained so much, like Michael’s reluctance to come to LA, his inability to commit to a relationship, his real reason for not wanting Ellen to go to London. He’d been waiting, hoping all this time that one day Michelle would return and bring their son with her.

And now she had, and in every picture Ellen had seen of them Michael seemed happy and relaxed, and Michelle was every bit as beautiful as Ellen had imagined her to be. They looked so good together, the three of them, such a perfect little family, so how could she possibly wish him estranged from them any longer and still with her?

She didn’t wish that. What she wished was that it didn’t hurt so much, or that she could stop herself longing for him to call, when she knew he wouldn’t. What reason would there be for him to? She’d ended the relationship while they were in Barbados. He owed her nothing. So she had to start working on putting them out of her mind and move past this before it tore her apart completely.

Pushing open the door to her office, she set her coffee down on the desk and leaned over to turn on her computer. Today was her last at ATI and she would rather die then let Ted Forgon know how much she was hurting. In truth, it would be much easier to withdraw her notice and stay in the protective sphere of the agency, for the thought of going it alone out there was so much more daunting now she was feeling like this. But she wasn’t going to allow herself to do that. She wasn’t a coward. She could find the strength to go ahead with her plans, so that was what she was going to do.

She just hoped that the reason Ted Forgon had summoned her to his office at the end of the day wasn’t to gloat, or to treat her to his unique style of persuasion to get her to stay, because if it was, she was going to take great pleasure in slamming her fist right in his face, for she’d had enough public exposure these last few weeks to last her a lifetime – and it if it weren’t for Forgon and his ludicrous ego she would never have met Michael McCann in the first place.

Ted Forgon hadn’t been in such a good mood since he’d made his first million. Or maybe it was since he got his first blow job. He couldn’t really remember, both were so long ago, but there was no doubt that no ensuing millions, or blow jobs, had given him the same blood-rushing kick as the first. With the probable exception of those going down right now, for the deal he currently had cooking was bigger than any other he’d ever pulled off and the blow job in motion was like no other he could remember. She was sensational. In fact, she was so out-of-this-world sensational, he might just have to marry her to make sure no other sonofabitch got a piece of the action.

‘Sure I heard about it,’ he was saying into the phone as Kerry Jo’s collagened lips worked his erection, ‘it was on the Channel 9 news last night.’ He looked up as the mail boy knocked and put his head round the half open door, indicating he had a package. Forgon waved him in and gestured for him to wait ’til he’d finished his call. Hidden beneath the desk, Kerry Jo didn’t even pause in her task. ‘What do you mean I don’t sound very interested?’ he said into the phone. ‘I know we’re talking about Michael McCann, but things change, Manny, life moves on. OK, so you win the bet – I didn’t get him to come to Hollywood so I owe you a couple hundred bucks. OK, a couple thousand, who’s counting? Did you get the script for Lucas’s next movie? Sure, I’m changing the subject.’ He slipped a hand under the desk and pressed down on Kerry Jo’s head as a ball-breaking climax started to brink. ‘I got to go now, Manny,’ he said. ‘I’ll catch you later, OK? Where? Oh yeah, the Willises’. Sure, I’ll be there,’ and putting the receiver down he smiled at the mail boy.

‘This package just came in from Warners,’ the boy said, putting it on the desk. ‘It says urgent, so I brought it right up.’

‘You did good,’ Forgon assured him, knowing he was going to lose it any second. ‘Thanks, you can go now. Close the door on your way out.’

The boy left and Forgon fell back in his chair, grunting and puffing and starting to buck like a bronco. It went on – and on and on – until finally, after taking him to never-never land and dropping him there, Kerry Jo’s mussed blonde head came up from under the desk.

‘Well, we sure got a tune out of you today, honey pie,’ she grinned, her baby blue eyes twinkling with laughter, her luscious ruby lips shining and wet. ‘Now, did I hear something about a party at the Willises’ tonight?’

Too spent to speak, Forgon watched her get to her feet and not for the first time wished he were a younger or fitter man, for what he didn’t want to do to that body wouldn’t be worth doing anyways. She was magnificent, standing there in her little white thong and four-inch high-heeled shoes, legs as long as Sigourney’s, ass tighter than a fist and tits that made Pammie’s look like po’boys. The surgery had cost him a fortune, but boy had it been worth it, and what the hell did he care that half the town was laughing at his fixation with an eighteen-year-old beauty queen from Texas, they weren’t getting what he was getting, so let the suckers laugh.

‘Now, honey, you know you should give me some warning about these things,’ she chided, perching on the arm of his chair and twiddling his hair with her fingers. Her left nipple was right there, all big and juicy and just dying for attention, but he still wasn’t recovered enough to try. ‘It’s not leaving me much time to go out and buy myself a new dress, now is it?’ she pouted, leaning over to kiss the top of his head and squashing her breast in his face. ‘So it looks like those itsy-bitsy little letters you wanted me to send out today are just gonna have to wait ’til tomorrow,’ and giving his hair a playful little ruffle, she got up and walked over to the twin couches where she had left her microscopic miniskirt and lycra crop top.

‘Now, would you be wanting me to go for a red dress or a white dress?’ she said, dancing her skirt up over her thighs. ‘I know those are your favourite colours … Oh, look at you, honey, zip yourself up now, you got Ellen Shelby coming in any minute and you don’t want her to see you like that, now do you?’

‘No,’ Forgon grunted, at last finding the strength to pull himself forward and sit up straight. ‘Get a white dress,’ he told her, ‘and get them to charge it to me.’

She giggled. ‘Oh you,’ she cried, ‘of course they’re gonna charge it to you, you don’t think I can afford Rodeo Drive on my little pittance of a salary, do you?’ She pulled the top over her head, tugged it down over her breasts, then, fluffing out her hair she wiggled back towards him. ‘OK, now let’s take a look at you. Shirt all tucked in, zipper right up. Good boy. My, you’re looking handsome today. Did I ever tell you what a looker you are?’ She kissed him tenderly on the head. ‘Now, what about those diamonds we saw the other day?’ she murmured throatily. ‘They’ll go real well with the dress I’ve got in mind, shall I stop by Van Cleef’s and pick them up?’

Forgon didn’t even flinch. ‘You do that,’ he told her and putting a hand on her bottom, he turned her round and guided her over to the door. ‘Now scoot,’ he said. ‘And be back at the house by seven. The party starts at eight. Oh, before you go, have someone come up from downstairs to sort out those letters.’

She saluted. ‘Yes sir, anything you say, sir,’ and pulling open the door she treated him to her best majorette strut over to her desk.

Smiling, Forgon turned back, muttering to himself that there was no fool like an old fool, while adoring her even more for reminding him what it was like to be in love. The last time had been with his wife, and she had gone to her maker more than twenty years ago now. They’d had a boy, just a couple of years after they got married, but he’d died too, before he reached six, and his wife had never wanted any more after that. He wondered how Kerry Jo would take to motherhood and reckoned, being the warm-hearted, flexible kind of girl she was, she’d take to it just fine.

As he sat back down he was thinking about McCann and the kid he’d just rescued in Rio. Must have been a tough call for him, that, wondering if the boy was going to make it. But there were just as tough times to come, because having a kid changed a person’s life. Forgon grimaced as he thought about the little boy who had been dead for so long now that were it not for the sadness that stole up on him at times, he might have been just a dream. Then he started to grin as his mind returned to McCann, and after a while his grin became a chuckle and by the time Ellen knocked on the door he was writing a cheque for Manny and laughing out loud.

Ellen had assumed, because the door was closed and there was no sign of Kerry Jo, that Forgon’s secretary would be in his office with him, but to her surprise, when he called out for her to come in she found him alone and in obviously high spirits.

‘Ellen,’ he cried, putting down his pen and getting up from his chair. ‘Come in, come in. Can I fix you a drink? Martini? Marguerita? I make a mean Marguerita.’

‘I’ll take a soda,’ she answered, watching him as he strode jauntily to the bar and started taking down bottles. He’d been doing well in the absurdity department lately, but today, in a Calvin Klein T-shirt, black leather pants and white stacked-heel shoes, he was excelling himself. Best of all, though, was the hair, which had undergone a serious henna job a couple of weeks back and was currently looking like a hedgehog on downers. Everyone knew that the new image was Kerry Jo’s handiwork and Ellen had to confess she was among those who couldn’t help laughing at how ridiculous he was making himself. But he wasn’t the only geriatric in Hollywood making that last desparate grab at youth, nor would he be the first to screw himself into an early grave as a result of it.

‘So how are you doing?’ Forgon asked, filling her glass from a shaker and spearing an olive with a cocktail stick. ‘You all set to go, or did you come up here to tell me you changed your mind?’

Ellen’s smile was remote as she took the Martini she hadn’t asked for.

‘I got to tell you it would make my day if you said you were staying,’ he told her, spooning crushed ice into another glass and covering it with bourbon. ‘You know I always had big plans for you. I wanted to get you right up here to this office, one of the most powerful in Hollywood.’

He looked so chuffed with himself Ellen almost laughed. Instead, she sat down on one of the sofas and took a sip of her drink. ‘Don’t think I’m not grateful,’ she told him. ‘It’s just that I have other plans and they don’t include staying an agent.’

‘I know, I know,’ he said, coming to sit opposite her, ‘I just want to make sure you know you can stay. And if you want to come back, your job’s always here.’

Ellen looked at him, trying to keep the suspicion from her eyes and wondering if it was love making him this agreeable, or if the hidden agenda was about to leap out and smack her in the face. For the moment she protected herself with a simple, ‘Thank you.’

‘You lost weight?’ he asked bluntly, sipping his bourbon.

Ellen nodded.

‘It doesn’t suit you. Put it back on.’

Ellen’s eyes dropped, as a sudden pain clawed at her heart, but bringing them quickly back to his she said, ‘I doubt you asked me to come up here to discuss my weight.’

He nodded. ‘You’re right, I didn’t. What I want is to persuade you to stay.’ His hand went up as she started to object. ‘It’s OK, I know I’m not going to succeed, so I’ve accepted it, but I can’t come to the party tonight and I wanted the chance to say goodbye and to give you something to take with you. It’s valuable and it’ll stand you in good stead for a long time to come.’

Ellen’s surprise and embarrassment showed, which seemed to please him, though there was no sign of a gift or anything she could actually thank him for, and as he appeared to be waiting for something she gave a self-conscious shrug of her shoulders and said, ‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘You don’t have to say anything,’ he told her. ‘All you have to do is listen,’ and sitting forward he set his drink on the table and resting his elbows on his knees, looked her directly in the eye. ‘It’s a big, tough world out there, as you’re very well aware,’ he said, ‘and believe me it’s not as easy getting started on your own as you might think. OK, you got a lot of contacts and you got yourself a reputation most women your age and in your position would kill for. People are going to be falling over themselves to work with you, Ellen, I expect they already are, but there are a lot of flakes out there, people who could do you a whole lot more harm than you know until it’s too late. So I want you to remember where I am and know that my door is always open. I haven’t got to where I am today without learning a thing or two, and I know this town. What’s more, the greatest difference between me and you right now is that I know how to play the game and you’re just learning. It’s mean, it’s tough, it draws blood and God knows it breaks hearts. But take it from me, making it in Hollywood is better than making it anywhere else in the god-damned world, because there is no place else like it and because it’s so damned hard. And now, the best piece of advice I can give you is make damned sure you don’t get yourself into any more fixes like the one you got into with Clay Ingall, because there’ll always be someone out there, like me, who’s looking for something on you they can use to their advantage. It’s how this town operates and the quicker you get used to that the easier you’re gonna find it. It’s not nice, but it’s a fact.’

He picked up his drink, then, walking over to his desk he opened a top drawer and took out an envelope. ‘These here,’ he said, coming back, ‘are the remaining photographs and negatives of you and Ingall. Do what you want with them, just know that they’re no longer in the hands of someone who can do you some harm. It was a tough lesson for you to learn and I want you to know that if I’d found it necessary I would have got them published. That’s the kind of guy I am.’

Ellen looked at the envelope as he laid it on the table, then, not even attempting to hide her confusion she looked across at him and said, ‘I don’t understand why you’re doing this. I mean, I’m grateful, but this is such a one eighty …’ She shook her head, not sure how to continue.

‘You’ve been through a tough time lately,’ he said frankly. ‘I don’t see any reason to make it any tougher.’

Ellen swallowed hard, angry now that he was touching on her private pain. ‘Do I take it you’ve given up on the idea of Michael coming to work for you?’ she asked in a tone designed to show him she had no problem mentioning Michael’s name, even if he did.

He laughed. ‘I confess when you two started to get serious I thought there was a chance I might win,’ he said. ‘But now there’s a kid …’ He was shaking his head and looking absently into space. ‘Just isn’t any way he’s going to up sticks now.’ His eyes refocused on hers. ‘Would you have gone to London if there wasn’t this other woman?’

‘No,’ Ellen answered. Then, seeing the way Forgon was looking at her she realized that despite her efforts to hide it he knew how much she was hurting.

‘You’ll get over it,’ he told her. ‘It just takes time.’

Ellen’s jaw tightened. If one more person told her that, she was likely to turn violent. After all, she was hardly weeping about the place, was she? She hadn’t even discussed it with anyone but Matty, so what right did people have to assume that she was falling apart when she’d never said or done anything to make them think that? She was getting on with her life. She had things in place now, projects in hand; and very soon she was going to be too busy even to think about Michael McCann. Better still would be when the press finally got off her case, because as much as Michael and Michelle were receiving in England, she was receiving in the US. The Gossip Show, Entertainment Tonight, Access Hollywood and the myriad magazines focused on the industry were just lapping up her heartbreak, and leaping out of practically every doorway she passed to try and capture her distress. After all, they couldn’t do anything about Michelle Rowe when no one in the US knew who she was, but most had heard of Ellen Shelby, agent to the stars and Hollywood leading light. So there it was, her own fame, such as it was, being held up to the world as a mirror to her pain, reflecting it out there to the public who then commented on it, analysed it, took it to pieces and even ridiculed it as though it had no living, feeling person behind it. It was why, once the party was over tonight, she was flying home to her parents, for it was hard enough trying to deal with this, without the press revelling in it the way they were.

‘How long are you staying with your folks?’ Forgon asked, as though reading her mind.

‘Two, maybe three weeks,’ she answered.

‘It’s always a good idea to take a break between jobs,’ he commented. ‘Gives you time to slough off the old skin and start toughening up the new one. Matty going with you?’

Ellen shook her head. ‘Will you keep her at ATI?’ she asked. ‘Rosa said she’d take her on.’

Forgon shrugged. ‘OK by me,’ he said. ‘What about the rest of your list? You’ve spoken to them all, I take it?’

‘Yes. It’s all sorted.’

Forgon nodded and glanced at his watch. ‘So I guess that’s it then,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘Good luck with everything and don’t lose too much sleep over McCann; his life’s changing in ways he never even dreamt about, so he sure won’t be losing any sleep over you.’

As his cruelty hit home, Ellen raised her eyes to his and, doing nothing to disguise her contempt she said, ‘You really are a callous bastard, aren’t you?’

His eyebrows flickered. ‘And don’t you forget it,’ he advised and pulling open the door he stood to one side as she left.

She was still going over the end of their meeting as she showered and dressed for her party later. Something about it was bothering her and she couldn’t quite put her finger on what. For sure, it was out of character for Forgon to show as much kindness as he had, though blowing it all apart the way he had at the end was vintage Ted. No, it wasn’t his sudden morphing into a guardian angel that was particularly unnerving her, odd though it was, it was more the manner in which he had told her not to forget what a callous bastard he could be. It had sounded like a warning. And coming right after his assertion that Michael’s life was changing in ways he’d never even dreamt about she couldn’t help wondering if the warning was for him, rather than for her.

Except everything came back to Michael in the end and it would be just like her to create an issue where there was none, just so’s she’d have an excuse to call him – or to give herself some vain and pathetic hope that Forgon might one day succeed in getting him to come to LA.

It was so torturous and cruel, the way her heart wouldn’t let her give up, even though she knew they could never work out now, even if he were to come to LA. Michelle and their son would come with him – and that was something she really wouldn’t be able to bear. But to see him, or just to hear him was a longing she couldn’t get out of her mind. It was why, in truth, she had to get away, because despite all her efforts to convince herself and the world she was coping, she was in fact a very, very long way from it.

As far as Sandy was concerned there was only one aspect of Michael’s and Michelle’s reunion that was bearable and that was what it was undoubtedly doing to Ellen. And in truth she wasn’t even sure about that, for knowing that Ellen’s suffering was very probably greater than hers – and more justified – made her feel somehow diminished and cheated, and more resentful than ever at being upstaged by the American yet again.

At least Michelle had been on the scene before, which in its way gave her a prior right to Michael, especially now everyone knew they had a son, whereas Ellen had just stolen in and snatched him right from under Sandy’s nose. So whatever heartache Ellen Shelby was enduring she damned well deserved. And as far as Michelle was concerned Sandy just couldn’t see it working out, not when so much time had gone by and when Michael could never trust her not to go running off on her errands of mercy again. So there was just no way Sandy was giving up hope, for by the time it fell apart with Michelle, Ellen would very likely be involved with someone else and she, Sandy, would be running the London end of World Wide, the company into which Michael had sunk virtually all of McCann Walsh’s profits and a good proportion of his personal wealth too.

He must know by now that she had bought into World Wide, though she wondered if he had any idea who had backed her. He wasn’t going to be pleased about that, but at least it would show him how determined and worthy a partner she could be. Of course he was going to need some time to get over the shock, which was no doubt why she hadn’t heard from him yet, and she had to confess she was nervous about what he was going to say when she did. His anger was going to hurt her, she knew that already, but she had to make herself see past it and remember that ultimately, what she had done was going to give them both all the rewards they had ever dreamed of.

Maurice had explained to her just a couple of weeks ago that McCann Walsh could no longer function the way it was, too many of its assets were invested in World Wide and the controlling share of World Wide now belonged to Ted Forgon. As payment for the information she had given him, Forgon had promised her the senior position in London, which meant that Michael, when he resurfaced from domesticity, was going to find himself, on the World Wide front at least, working for her. Naturally, she would allow him to make most of the decisions, as his experience was far greater than hers, and she was going to be at pains to let him know that would be the case. She didn’t want there to be any antagonism, she simply wanted him to know that she loved him enough to hand back all that she had taken.

‘In exchange for what?’ Nesta had asked on one of the many occasions the two of them had sat discussing it long into the night. ‘His hand in marriage?’ She scoffed. ‘You can’t buy people like that, Sandy.’

‘I’m not buying him, I’m just showing him how much I’m prepared to give him,’ Sandy protested. ‘On condition.’

Nesta rolled her eyes. ‘Well, I suppose condition’s a better word than blackmail,’ she said. ‘So what is this condition?’

Sandy coloured. ‘That we become partners, of course.’

‘So I was right. His hand in marriage.’

‘In case you’ve forgotten, I’m in love with him, Nesta …’

‘Bullshit,’ Nesta cut in. ‘You’re no more in love with him than I am, and if you ask me you never were. He was just the first man you met when you came to London who was rich and powerful and good-looking enough to turn every other woman’s head. You wanted him because you thought it would turn you into a somebody, because you had no confidence in yourself, no self-esteem or self-respect. You assumed, because he’s the kind of man he is, that he could change all that. You never seemed to understand that it had to come from you, not from someone else. Yet you did it anyway. You’ve got your own business, you’re successful in your own right, you’ve pulled off a major deal with Ted Forgon and Mark Bergin and you’ve stitched up Michael good and proper. You did all that yourself. OK, with some help from me and a lot from Maurice, but you’re the one who runs the show, you’re the real brains behind it, the one with a gift for recognizing talent and utilizing assets, and you’re the one who’s getting written up all over the place as the hottest thing since toast. We’ve got nearly two thirds of our acting list out there working and half the writers. Harry’s producers and directors have hardly stopped and the drive, the energy, the guts it took to get the team together in the first place all came from you. You’re incredible, do you know that? You go out there and give a performance that’s got the whole world convinced you’re going to be bigger than Salinger, yet here, behind the scenes, you act like a kid. So why not do yourself a favour and start facing up to the fact that not only are you never going to get Michael McCann, you damn well don’t want him anyway. What’s more you don’t even need him. You’ve done it. You’re out there, you’re one of the tall poppies now.’

‘Tall poppies get their heads lopped off,’ Sandy reminded her.

‘Well, you know what I mean,’ Nesta responded. ‘You’re so far away from that pathetic creature I found weeping in a Barking bedsit, you’ve grown so much since then and so bloody fast it’s frightening. But emotionally, Sandy, you’re so immature I swear you’re going backwards. Now for God’s sake, put an end to this crush, or whatever you want to call it, and find someone who’s right for you, who’s really going to love you and appreciate you for the woman you are. And you’re in there somewhere, I know it. You just keep hiding behind that star-struck kid who, by the miracles of fate and a rich man’s infatuation, managed to take away the best part of Michael McCann’s livelihood and is now trying to force him to live with her in order to get it back. Well, take it from me, Sandy, it’s not going to work – on that basis it doesn’t even stand a chance.’

Ever since that night Sandy had tried to put Nesta’s words out of her mind, but they just kept coming back. It wasn’t that she thought Nesta was right, but she had to concede that maybe she had a point. In fact, Michael probably hated her for what she had done and she could hardly blame him for that, when the last thing he needed, now he had a family to get used to, was to be trying to sort out the mess she had created.