Chapter 30

I stared at Marty. “What?”

“Otis Hampton,” he said, wiping the soda into his flannel shirt. “The producer. He got here about half an hour ago. I told him I didn’t know when you’d be back, but he said he’d wait.”

“And you didn’t think maybe you should send me a text? Or at the very least tell me as soon as I got here?”

He sniffed. “I assumed you had an appointment. I don’t know what you get up to with those big fancy Hollywood types.”

“Marty!” I looked down at myself. My sweatshirt and jeans were ruined, not that they’d been great to begin with. “Do I look like I was expecting a big fancy Hollywood type today?”

“Do I pay attention to how you dress?” he countered. “Why don’t you keep a spare shirt or something here?”

“Why? I…I…” I was sputtering incoherently. Luckily, someone else was capable of rational thought.

“I mean, you have all those clothes downstairs.”

I whirled around to see that Callie had come in from the ticket booth. So had several people who were presumably customers for the two-thirty show. They were all staring at me.

I took a breath. Then I turned on Marty. “You, go upstairs and tell Otis to wait. And get him out of my office. I don’t want him snooping around. You—” I pointed to Callie. “Get these lovely people anything they want besides soda and meet me downstairs the minute Brandon shows up to take over up here.”

I sprinted for the stairs to the basement.

  

“I mean, wow.”

This was Callie’s reaction when she joined me in the prop room fifteen minutes later.

“Have you seen Otis?” I asked her. “Where is he?”

“Marty put him in the balcony,” she said. “He’s watching Silk Stockings. You look amazing. Is that Chanel?”

She meant my jacket. “It is,” I said. “I figured if I was going to put on my battle gear I might as well put on the best.”

I’d chosen a pair of black jeans that did magical things to my butt, a white silk shirt that had cost more than it would take to get the soda machine repaired, and a black-and-white speckled Chanel jacket that took the whole thing to the next level.

“I mean, you have to wear these booties,” Callie said, pulling a black stiletto Louboutin from a pile.

“They hurt like a—”

“Otis Hampton,” Callie stopped me. “He’s one of the biggest guys in the business and you’re a former screenwriter who ran away from Hollywood. The least you should do is be taller than him.”

I blinked. “You’re right. See if you can find a lipstick somewhere.”

“I’m on it,” she said. “And then, like it or not, I’m going to give you a messy bun. What do you think he wants?”

“Something insane to do with Ted, no doubt,” I told her. “I’m just trying to figure out how to leverage that into getting Ted the part he wants in that movie.”

I turned to find her staring at me, boots in one hand and a makeup bag in the other. “You’re helping Ted? The Ted who left you? The Ted who stole all your money? You’re—”

I took the makeup from her. “I’m only helping Ted because he’s holding the paperwork on those gowns hostage. And if this goes the way I think it will, I’m really not doing him any favors.”

“He’s using you,” Callie said.

“Yup.” I rummaged around in the bag for a lipstick or mascara or something. “He’s using me to manage Otis, and Otis is no doubt here to use me against Ted. I just have to figure out how I can use them both to get what I want.”

“What do you want?” Callie asked.

“Both of them out of my life.”

  

“Otis.” I came around from my desk. “I had no idea you were in town. Why didn’t you let me know?”

I’d taken the back stairs to my office, asking Callie to bring Otis to me. When he arrived I specifically didn’t apologize for keeping him waiting.

“Nora.” He air kissed me on both cheeks and then stepped back to give me the kind of appraising head-to-toe sweep that I was sure many lawyers had told him never to subject a woman to again. Ugh.

Otis himself was nothing special to look at. Not as tall as he thought he was, or as fit. He was well into his fifties and tended to go a little overboard with the Botox. He wore the muted tones of casual Hollywood. His teeth were blindingly white.

“You look amazing,” he said. “I heard you were letting yourself go. I’ll have to defend your honor the next time anyone says anything.”

Ah ha. That’s why he was here. He was afraid his plot to make it look like Glen Hendricks and I were dating would fall flat if I hadn’t kept up my hair color or if, God forbid, I’d gained six pounds.

“San Francisco agrees with me,” I told him. “Have a seat. What brings you here?”

I’d maneuvered him to one of the guest chairs. I took a seat behind the desk. Any little edge I could have would help.

“Can’t a friend just stop by to say hello?” he asked, the picture of innocence.

“Sure,” I said. “But that usually doesn’t involve getting on a plane.”

He grinned. “Okay, you caught me. I was on my way to my ranch in Montana and I had a craving for dim sum,” he said. “I told them to re-route through San Francisco.”

Sure. That sounded plausible. Even whimsical, in a billionaire-with-a-private-jet sort of way. “We do have good dim sum,” I allowed.

“The best!” he enthused. “I’m just sorry I didn’t think to ask you to join me. But when we were leaving the restaurant and I realized how close we were to this place…well.” He smiled one of those Hollywood smiles that I really didn’t miss.

“Well,” I agreed and leaned forward, my tone becoming chummy, “as a matter of fact, Otis, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Really?” He gave me a sharp look. “Because when we last spoke I got the impression you were cooling on our plan.” He paused for effect. “That’s not something you want to do.”

I bit back a comment about there being no such thing as “our” plan, and overlooked his implied threat. I didn’t have time for either.

“The truth is, I’m concerned,” I said instead. “After all, the Venice Film Festival is months away. I want to finalize my divorce, and that means finalizing the settlement, and that means finding the money Ted stole. I don’t want to wait months for that.”

“Sure,” Otis agreed. His phone buzzed and he took it from his pocket, reading a text while he talked to me. “Don’t worry about that. I’ve got my guys working on the money angle.”

Now that he was confident in my cooperation again he’d clearly lost interest. He read another text, frowning.

“Otis, I have a better idea.”

“Yeah? Great. Listen, why don’t you email it to me? I’ve got a plane to catch…” Still looking at his phone, he moved to stand.

“Your plane will wait,” I said.

Something about my tone got his attention.

“We need to do something about Ted sooner rather than later,” I told him. “Put down your phone and listen. I’ve got a plan.”

I fixed him with the kind of look I hadn’t had much use for since coming to the Palace. But apparently I still had it, because he pocketed the phone, his faintly amused look telling me he was intrigued enough to humor me for a minute—but just a minute.

“You’ve bought in as a producer on that new Scandinavian franchise,” I said quickly. “And Ted wants the lead.”

“I’ve bought in as a producer on every deal in town that Ted could possibly want,” Otis said smugly, a glint of something dangerous in his eye. “Just to make sure he doesn’t get it. We’ll just see how much Priya wants to be with a has-been. Once he’s been black-balled—”

“Sure,” I cut him off. “But I want you to give it to him. The Scandinavian thing.”

He sat back, a look of distrust crossing his face. “Nora, if you’re going soft on me—”

“If you give him that part, you own him.” I said impatiently. “You’re his boss. You control where the location shoots are, and how long he has to be off on some frozen fjord. You control his schedule, which means you control his life. And you control his career. Make sure the franchise tanks and he won’t be nearly so attractive to Priya.”

I waited a moment for that to sink in. When he blinked I knew I had him.

“Give Ted what he thinks he wants,” I said. “And then make his life hell.”

He leaned forward. “I’m not the only producer on the project. They won’t just let me tank the whole—”

“Buy them out,” I said. “You’ve got the money. Spend it on what you really want. And that isn’t another ranch in Montana.”

He hesitated. “What’s in it for you?”

This was a rare show business negotiation in which honesty was the best policy. “Short term, I’ve done him a favor by getting you to see he’s right for the part,” I said. “Which means he’ll give me something in return. But long term…”

Otis was all attention.

“If I know you at all, you’re going to make him miserable on that shoot,” I said. “Maybe so miserable that after a few weeks he’ll come to you, offering to do whatever it takes to get out of his contract. You’ll tell him what it will take.”

“He has to leave Priya,” Otis said.

“No. That’s not what you want.”

He looked startled.

“You want Priya to leave him.”

Otis blinked. His face became grim. “Yes,” he said roughly. “Yes, I do.”

“Then this is your play,” I told him. “Your price for letting Ted out of his contract will be him miraculously recovering the money he stole from me and agreeing to a settlement.”

“Leaving him broke,” Otis said.

“Leaving him a multimillionaire movie star,” I said dryly. “But closer to broke than he was. Then you recast Ted’s part and make that movie the biggest grossing blockbuster of the summer. Without him.”

“He’ll look like a fool.” An ugly smile spread across Otis’s face. “And that’s when Priya will leave him.”

I felt a moment’s sympathy for Priya. Then I stood, looking at my watch. “Now, you said something about a plane to catch?”