nearly two bottles of wine. This was the closest she'd come to alcohol since leaving the treatment center.
The tangy smell of the wine frightened her. He offered her a glass. Not wanting to go into her drinking problem, she declined without elaboration. But he kept offering. Finally, she saw her hand reach out and her fingers touch the stem of the glass. Her whole body shook. She would take one glass, just one glass, but no more. But then—and here was where she started believing in Father Doheny's guardian angels again—something stopped her at the last moment. She said no.
The director looked crestfallen. His best and last seduction ploy had failed. She completed the interview and got out of there and it was now eleven months, three weeks and four days since she'd last had a drink.
She leaned over and tapped her knuckles on the top of Puckett's forehead. "Knock on wood that I never take another drink again."
Puckett felt the way he had when he saw the first Rocky picture. Nothing was more inspiring than real people overcoming great obstacles. He wanted to stand up and cheer. Figuring that that might be a little embarrassing, he settled for leaning over and kissing her tenderly on the mouth. "I'm really proud of you."
"Thanks. I've been dreaming about this for months. Telling you that I was sober, I mean. And then tonight a good excuse fell into my lap."
He held up his can of Diet 7-Up. "Want one?"
"Please."
He stood up and walked to the bathroom where he had some cans of Diet 7-Up stashed in a stylish Styrofoam ice bucket.
"You want a plastic glass?" he called from the bathroom.
"Gee, Puckett, after all the dates we had drinking out of cans, why spoil our record now?"
"I guess you've got a point there," he smiled.
He came out and handed her her very own can and then sat down on the couch next to her. He'd hit the "mute" button and now David Letterman babbled silently.
"Didn't you interview Cobey Daniels once before?" he said, remembering the reason she'd given on the talk show for being in Chicago.
"I wrote a long piece about him just after—" She hesitated. "Just after Donny was killed."
He reached over and took her long, narrow hand in his blunt, wide one.
She went on, "I suppose, in some way, I used him as a substitute for my son. Remember all the trouble he got in? The time he stole the car and the Highway Patrol chased him across half the state? The time he was arrested for possession of drugs? And that time in the mall with the underage girl?"
He nodded. "Right. Not that anybody ever got the story straight. She said he was trying to strangle her and he said he was just playing and—" He shrugged. "Anyway, that security guard came in and broke it up before anything happened."
She sighed. "That was Cobey . But look at him now."
"I've got to admit, he seems to have done the impossible. That one-man show of his is doing very well." Like many people on the periphery of show biz, Puckett read the trades to keep up with the news. Because he worked so many celebrity cases, the trades— Daily Variety especially—were an important part of his job.
"Most child stars never make a comeback, but people are talking a Tony award when Cobey finally brings the show into New York."
She took her hand from his. "Anyway, a week ago I got an assignment to do an update on Cobey for a very big magazine. The editor wants me to dig into his background and make it a really major piece. She has a whole file of stuff on Cobey that she's never been able to use." She sipped her 7-Up and then said, "Say, I'm going to see his show tomorrow night. Why don't you go with me?"
"That'd be great. I'd enjoy seeing it."
"And you can protect me from Lilly Carlyle."
"His manager?"
"Right. She hated me back then and she still hates me. Cobey and I developed a very intense relationship during the two weeks I was doing my research and she was very—jealous. I don't know any other way to put it. She really hassled me. My last day on
The tangy smell of the wine frightened her. He offered her a glass. Not wanting to go into her drinking problem, she declined without elaboration. But he kept offering. Finally, she saw her hand reach out and her fingers touch the stem of the glass. Her whole body shook. She would take one glass, just one glass, but no more. But then—and here was where she started believing in Father Doheny's guardian angels again—something stopped her at the last moment. She said no.
The director looked crestfallen. His best and last seduction ploy had failed. She completed the interview and got out of there and it was now eleven months, three weeks and four days since she'd last had a drink.
She leaned over and tapped her knuckles on the top of Puckett's forehead. "Knock on wood that I never take another drink again."
Puckett felt the way he had when he saw the first Rocky picture. Nothing was more inspiring than real people overcoming great obstacles. He wanted to stand up and cheer. Figuring that that might be a little embarrassing, he settled for leaning over and kissing her tenderly on the mouth. "I'm really proud of you."
"Thanks. I've been dreaming about this for months. Telling you that I was sober, I mean. And then tonight a good excuse fell into my lap."
He held up his can of Diet 7-Up. "Want one?"
"Please."
He stood up and walked to the bathroom where he had some cans of Diet 7-Up stashed in a stylish Styrofoam ice bucket.
"You want a plastic glass?" he called from the bathroom.
"Gee, Puckett, after all the dates we had drinking out of cans, why spoil our record now?"
"I guess you've got a point there," he smiled.
He came out and handed her her very own can and then sat down on the couch next to her. He'd hit the "mute" button and now David Letterman babbled silently.
"Didn't you interview Cobey Daniels once before?" he said, remembering the reason she'd given on the talk show for being in Chicago.
"I wrote a long piece about him just after—" She hesitated. "Just after Donny was killed."
He reached over and took her long, narrow hand in his blunt, wide one.
She went on, "I suppose, in some way, I used him as a substitute for my son. Remember all the trouble he got in? The time he stole the car and the Highway Patrol chased him across half the state? The time he was arrested for possession of drugs? And that time in the mall with the underage girl?"
He nodded. "Right. Not that anybody ever got the story straight. She said he was trying to strangle her and he said he was just playing and—" He shrugged. "Anyway, that security guard came in and broke it up before anything happened."
She sighed. "That was Cobey . But look at him now."
"I've got to admit, he seems to have done the impossible. That one-man show of his is doing very well." Like many people on the periphery of show biz, Puckett read the trades to keep up with the news. Because he worked so many celebrity cases, the trades— Daily Variety especially—were an important part of his job.
"Most child stars never make a comeback, but people are talking a Tony award when Cobey finally brings the show into New York."
She took her hand from his. "Anyway, a week ago I got an assignment to do an update on Cobey for a very big magazine. The editor wants me to dig into his background and make it a really major piece. She has a whole file of stuff on Cobey that she's never been able to use." She sipped her 7-Up and then said, "Say, I'm going to see his show tomorrow night. Why don't you go with me?"
"That'd be great. I'd enjoy seeing it."
"And you can protect me from Lilly Carlyle."
"His manager?"
"Right. She hated me back then and she still hates me. Cobey and I developed a very intense relationship during the two weeks I was doing my research and she was very—jealous. I don't know any other way to put it. She really hassled me. My last day on
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