Josh moved into the downstairs office while his was being painted. He set up his work on a desk next to Alex’s, placed his electronic organiser in the centre and a phone at the right, and started making calls.
‘Please,’ Alex said desperately, staring at his own computerised schedule, crammed with items that had to be completed by the end of the day. ‘I can’t listen to you shmooze all day. I’m not kidding. I fucking can’t do it.’
‘Come on, Alex, chill.’ ‘Chill’ was Josh’s favourite one-word line from the cult-classic film Showgirls. ‘You won’t even know that I’m here.’
That was next to impossible, but Alex sighed and began with his own roster. On Tuesdays, he returned calls to the studios, booking time to send his writers out for reviews. Most screenings were done at private theatres located in Hollywood or in the Valley. Often a reviewer would be alone, or with only one or two other writers, in a large, plush room. It was a pretty cushy way to spend an afternoon.
As he dialled the first number, he heard Josh start in on his work, ‘Hey,’ Josh crooned, ‘you’re harder to get in touch with than my wife’s boyfriend. And I’m not even married. Give me a call. This is Josh at Zebra. You know, black and white and READ all over. We’re having a special on full-page ads. Call me by noon if you wanna talk.’
He grinned at Alex and nodded enthusiastically, mouthing the words, ‘See? Not a bother at all.’ Then he punched in another number and began a new spiel. ‘Dude, it’s the big J. Got a deal for you.’ There was a slight hesitation, and Alex watched Josh’s face. It was as if he could see the man mentally regrouping based on whatever the customer had just said to him, instantly changing tactics. ‘You’re not buying this week? Why, that’s a travesty! It’s more than that. It’s a travesty of a mockery of a sham…’ As he delivered another movie quote, he raised his eyebrows at Alex, nodding. ‘See?’ See? No bother. No worries.
Alex wasn’t worried. He was annoyed. Resigned, he continued to dial numbers, talking first to his media connection at one of the big studios and then to the lady at an independent film company. A dart flew by his head and he looked up, angry, expecting to see Josh fucking around again. Instead, it was Avalon.
‘You had sex,’ she announced happily, moving to sit on the one uncluttered edge of Alex’s desk in the cross-legged Lotus pose. After spending most of the morning at Josh’s place, swimming in the turquoise water of a pool that had a view of the ocean, she felt resurrected. With her head finally clear, she’d showered beneath the two-headed nozzle in his sumptuous bathroom, reassessing her life. So she’d been with Josh – again – but at least he wasn’t just another one-night-stand loser she’d picked up at a bar. He was a friend. That counted for something, didn’t it?
‘Oh, yes,’ Avalon continued now, enjoying Alex’s shocked expression, ‘you had amazing sex.’
A yoga practitioner for years, Avalon could bend her flexible body into an assortment of difficult positions. She did so now, contorting herself into a pretzel-like shape as a way of giving Alex a moment to gather his wits. Josh, gathering his belongings on his way out to a meeting, gave her a hungry look. As he quickly made his way through the office, it was easy to decipher the message in his eyes: want to bend you over again, Avalon. You name the place. You name the time. She ignored the stare. Leaning her head back, she sniffed the air, as if trying to determine which direction the wind was blowing. ‘You fucked Marina.’
‘You’re crazy,’ Alex said, refusing to glance up from his computer. He acted as if he were deeply involved in the story he was editing on the screen, a hastily written review that slammed a new teen comedy. It took only a fraction of his brain power to make the necessary changes to the copy. The rest of his mind was kept busy as he tried to figure out how the hell Avalon always knew things like this. Sure, she was the paper’s gossip columnist. But the role didn’t need to bleed into the lives of the staff members, did it?
‘Last night,’ Avalon continued, arms outstretched to feel Alex’s sexual aura. ‘And again this morning. Dirty dog. I thought you two had broken up for real this time. Isn’t that what you swore to us? “No more,” you said after Halloween.’ Avalon did a passable impression of Alex’s deep voice. ‘ “No more emotional fucking blackmail.” ’
‘We did break up.’ Now, Alex’s normally steady tone of voice held a wavering quality, as if he weren’t altogether sure of the statement.
‘Then why was she in your bed last night?’ Avalon ran one of her hands along the back of Alex’s neck beneath his hair, giving him instant goosebumps. ‘Why didn’t you kick her to the kerb, like you said you would if you found her beneath your sheets again? Don’t you remember, Alex? You told us that the best sex in the world wasn’t worth the pain of sitting through another one of her dance recitals.’ Avalon’s eyes gleamed brightly as she told Alex off. ‘You’re weak, man. Weak, weak, weak.’
‘Christ, she called, didn’t she?’ he asked, finally catching on. If he hadn’t been so annoyed at Josh, he’d have picked up on the clues sooner. Avalon’s scarlet-slicked lips curved into a sexy half-smile as she waved a little pink piece of paper in front of Alex’s eyes. On it was a message that she had taken in the upstairs office moments before. Yes, she was a damn good gossip columnist. But she wasn’t a fucking psychic.
‘She said to be at her opening tonight if you ever want to feel her warm, wet lips around your cock again.’ She dragged out the word ‘cock’ for extra emphasis, winning a broad smile from Pete, who took the time to look over from his laptop.
Savouring the victory of the moment, Avalon grinned at Alex, and he fought for inner control, not wanting to get drawn into a discussion about his love life. ‘For such a tame-looking creature, that girl has a filthy mouth on her, doesn’t she? I bet I could learn a thing or two from her.’ Avalon laughed lightly as she let the paper flutter from her fingers and then stood and walked out of the room without looking back.
* * *
Kelly sat in a room filled with three other hopefuls, but it was a room that felt particularly hopeless to him. He recognised two of the other actors easily. One was currently featured on a long-running daytime soap. The other was starring in a prime-time cable series that had his name in the title.
So what chance in hell did Kelly have? None, as far as he could tell. Yes, he knew the stories that rotated through Hollywood to give young actors hope. Many actors paid their dues by winding up as clips in a circular file. Even so, Kelly wished he had something more to offer when he went to talk with the casting director.
The other actor in the room was someone whose face also seemed familiar. But it was more difficult to tell, because no one in the plushly decorated foyer would look at one another. It was as if making small talk would ruin their chances of being the chosen one. Tapping his foot on the floor, Kelly caught the glare of the man at his side and he instantly recognised the actor from his furrowed brow. Ah, so that’s where he was from. A play Kelly had caught downtown. A good production, one that had gleaned raves in the papers, which was undoubtedly why this actor was here. On his way up from the stage to the silver screen.
Theatre people were different from screen actors. This man had an air about him that seemed to say he was better than the rest of the crew in the room. Kelly ignored his displeased expression and continued tapping his foot. He didn’t care if it annoyed the man. It was one way to let out a bit of his own wired energy. How long would they all be kept in the room together?
Finally, the casting director’s door opened, and a woman with artsy red glasses and upswept blonde hair motioned for all four of the men to join her in the room.
What was going on?
Usually, the men would have come in for her singly and read one at a time. It was obvious that the other actors were surprised as well, but only Kelly appeared truly calm. Here was his main talent. When the moment arrived, he would relax every time. It was exactly the same way that he felt when surfing out in Santa Monica, moving his body on the waves, giving in to the feeling of being weightless.
He followed the last actor into the office, chose a chair, and found himself staring into the eyes of one of the most famous directors of his era.
* * *
By late afternoon, Alex and Josh were not having a good time.
‘Big ad dropped out,’ Josh sighed, digging his right fist into the palm of his left hand in what Alex recognised as his most nervous habit, the one that came directly after chain-smoking Marlboros down to the filter and drumming on the edge of any surface with the two gold pens that he carried everywhere in the breast pocket of his baby-blue shirt.
Alex hated dealing with the financial portion of the paper. He knew they were small compared to the LA Times or even the more established alternative papers like The Weekly, but they had a following. And their diminutive size allowed them to break barriers, which was what Alex most enjoyed. He liked asking shocking questions in interviews, broaching subjects that nobody else dared to ask. Being small didn’t hurt their chances of winning superstars for their covers, either. Press, any press, was considered worthwhile in the industry. They were invited to every junket, given passes to even the most star-studded Hollywood opening.
‘Another ad will take its place, right?’ Alex asked.
Josh raised his blond eyebrows. ‘I took a meeting at my favourite studio this afternoon. I was hoping for a big, four-colour for the back page, but the ad guy weaselled out. Said they’d blown the budget on some insane building-sized billboard up on Sunset.’ He groaned. ‘Jesus, I miss Dashiell sometimes. The man can talk anyone into anything.’
‘He’s coming back to work soon. He promised,’ Alex said, flipping through his files to see what other openings were coming up, then handing Josh a list of movies and studios to try. As he looked over his calendar, he felt the same way Josh did. When Dashiell came back to work, the worries would be over. They always were.
* * *
Kelly listened carefully to the stone-eyed woman behind the desk, trying his best to process the information she was giving. It was difficult to concentrate because she was so intensely pretty. Before entering the office, he’d forgotten exactly what she looked like. A loner to the extreme, this director was a Hollywood oddity. She didn’t believe in the rules of the game. He’d rarely seen a photograph of her walking down a red carpet, and looking in her eyes, Kelly understood why. Like some wild creature, she was untameable. Living that unforgiving lifestyle hadn’t hurt her success in any way. Nobody put out the type of instant hits that she did. When she decided to make a movie, it was a blockbuster. But better than that, it was unexpected.
Everything she did seemed to annoy someone. Like the fact that she had been chain-smoking since the start of the meeting, puffing perfectly executed smoke rings towards the ceiling, where they dispersed into a silvery cloud. The other actors in the room seemed disturbed to see this. California was known for being a smoke-free environment. Strangers actually dared to tell smokers to put out their butts in public, where the air was supposed to be free.
But Kelly liked her attitude, and he found himself captivated. The director was at least twenty years his senior, which put her in her early forties, with rich dark hair that she wore pulled back in a loose ponytail. Her chestnut-coloured mane had started to go silver in only one place, a clean streak at the very front. It made her look even more interesting. With her striking bone structure, and apparently no make-up on at all, she looked like a majestic work of art. Chilled. Unflinching.
Locking into what the director was saying, Kelly found himself even more intrigued by her demeanour. This had to be the most bizarre casting call he’d ever been on, had ever even heard of.
The director didn’t want to listen to the four men read. They’d been given the script sections only to let them know what they were in for. Because the part, although not a lead role, was both key and demanding. Would they feel comfortable doing a whole scene without clothes on? Not a sex scene, precisely, but a scenario that reminded Kelly of another casting call he’d read about – a young actress was required to barge into a male locker room and confront one of the naked men inside. Because the actress had only played innocents before, she’d had to do the audition five times before being given the role, just to be sure she could handle it. The girl had aced the audition and landed the job, and in the movie she’d been both startling and impressive.
Kelly cued back into the conversation just as the director turned her piercing stare on him. She was asking him a direct question, and Kelly focused on each word. ‘Would you mind doing a nude scene, one in which you were the only character without clothes?’ Her voice was low and husky. The tone of it let him know that she was daring him.
‘No,’ he said automatically.
‘Have you ever done something like that before?’
He looked around the room and realised that the stage actor had recently been in a production that had started with him streaking across the stage completely naked. That’s why this man was here. The others had done nudity, as well, were famous for baring their butts whenever necessary. So it was up to Kelly to prove that he was in their league.
He’d do just about anything to work with the powerful woman who sat at the desk in front of him. He’d humiliate himself in front of cast and crew. And he’d take off all his clothes right now to prove it –