‘I almost ran over the best piece of ass I’ve seen in a long time.’ Of course, had I known he was talking about you , Hannah, I would have said, ‘Too bad, because you can’t have her, she’s mine.’” He laughed. “By that I mean only during your waking hours. The last thing I am is a slave driver, right?”
I knew better than to answer honestly. With calm precision, I picked up the loaded tray and carried it into the living room.
* * *
I did my best to stay out of the living room for the rest of the evening. Even when I was called to bring in more poi blinis with smoked salmon (care of Wolfgang Puck takeout), wheat-free tofu-topped pizza (ala Cheebo) or British Columbia salmon (Zone) with a pitcher of Goji Himalayan Juice or Lagunitas Draft Micro-Brew to go with it, I ignored Randy’s jibes, Louis’s sudden attentiveness, and most certainly Mick’s apologetic glances.
To keep myself busy, I went over Louis’s itinerary for the next day with a finetooth comb, making notations as needed:
5:00 A.M.: Wake-up call
6:00 A.M.: Limo to Columbia Pictures
6:30–7:00 A.M.: Make-Up, Bldg K
7:00am-6:00 P.M.: On Set ( Breakneck ), Studio 1002
12:30 P.M.: Lunch in Dressing Room (Zone!) and Entertainment Tonight interview with Mary Hart
8 P.M.: Premiere of Ethan Blount’s latest film, Tales of the Crystal Universe at the Arclight on Sunset
10:30 P.M: After-party for Crystal Universe at the Viper Room
Does the guy ever sleep? I wondered. Apparently he did not, which meant that I wouldn’t be getting much shuteye either for the next couple of months. Or time with my telescope, which was an even bigger crime in my book.
Sighing, I then put my mind to perusing Louis’s itinerary for the rest of the week. Based on that, I would have to coordinate the following:
Leave Sunday for New York, via the studio’s private jet, to promote Dead End .
Monday: in the early afternoon, Louis would be photographed by Annie Leibovitz for a Vanity Fair cover; in the early evening he would join James Lipton for an “Inside the Actor’s Studio” interview, which was to be taped in front of an audience filled with film students and cinephiles. (So that Louis could prepare a full arsenal of appropriate responses and interview postures—unabashed modesty, unwavering intensity, wise cynicism, perhaps a faraway glance that bespoke a bittersweet longing—Monique, Louis’s publicist, had included several DVDs of previous “Actor’s Studio” interviewees for him to study. This stash included interviews of the two Toms, Harrison, Johnny, Sir Ian, Benecio, Sir Anthony, Paul, Colin, and the pinnacle of all Lipton interviews, as determined by the “LGF”, a.k.a. the Lipton gush factor: the Barbra interview. It would be my job to study the tapes beforehand and make notations that might be of interest to Louis.)
Book him into the Ritz Carlton, and accept only the “Ritz Carlton” Suite;
(Oh, just great. And what if the Ritz Carlton Suite was already booked? Would Louis stand in the lobby and pout until it was made available? Or, as his “person,” would I be made to stand there and pout in his place?)
Book Prudence K. for an in-room massage. Ask for “Barry” at the concierge desk; he will know how to find her. DO NOT ASK VIA SWITCHBOARD!!! (Hmmmm. . . .)
Have four dozen yellow tulips sent to Tatiana, via her modeling agency.
Have a late albeit romantic supper brought up to the suite—Zone, of course. (Can Zone meals be romantic? If not, should I switch the menu to South Beach? I mean, South Beach is more romantic sounding than Zone, so would it not follow that it would taste more sensual, too? Hard to say. )
Next day: fly Virgin Air, upper class, to Heathrow, where Louis would complete voice-over production on his last British film, a dark take on Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca , starring Louis in the Olivier/Maxim de Winter role. It’s considered edgy because it ends with Louis’s character actually being tried and
I knew better than to answer honestly. With calm precision, I picked up the loaded tray and carried it into the living room.
* * *
I did my best to stay out of the living room for the rest of the evening. Even when I was called to bring in more poi blinis with smoked salmon (care of Wolfgang Puck takeout), wheat-free tofu-topped pizza (ala Cheebo) or British Columbia salmon (Zone) with a pitcher of Goji Himalayan Juice or Lagunitas Draft Micro-Brew to go with it, I ignored Randy’s jibes, Louis’s sudden attentiveness, and most certainly Mick’s apologetic glances.
To keep myself busy, I went over Louis’s itinerary for the next day with a finetooth comb, making notations as needed:
5:00 A.M.: Wake-up call
6:00 A.M.: Limo to Columbia Pictures
6:30–7:00 A.M.: Make-Up, Bldg K
7:00am-6:00 P.M.: On Set ( Breakneck ), Studio 1002
12:30 P.M.: Lunch in Dressing Room (Zone!) and Entertainment Tonight interview with Mary Hart
8 P.M.: Premiere of Ethan Blount’s latest film, Tales of the Crystal Universe at the Arclight on Sunset
10:30 P.M: After-party for Crystal Universe at the Viper Room
Does the guy ever sleep? I wondered. Apparently he did not, which meant that I wouldn’t be getting much shuteye either for the next couple of months. Or time with my telescope, which was an even bigger crime in my book.
Sighing, I then put my mind to perusing Louis’s itinerary for the rest of the week. Based on that, I would have to coordinate the following:
Leave Sunday for New York, via the studio’s private jet, to promote Dead End .
Monday: in the early afternoon, Louis would be photographed by Annie Leibovitz for a Vanity Fair cover; in the early evening he would join James Lipton for an “Inside the Actor’s Studio” interview, which was to be taped in front of an audience filled with film students and cinephiles. (So that Louis could prepare a full arsenal of appropriate responses and interview postures—unabashed modesty, unwavering intensity, wise cynicism, perhaps a faraway glance that bespoke a bittersweet longing—Monique, Louis’s publicist, had included several DVDs of previous “Actor’s Studio” interviewees for him to study. This stash included interviews of the two Toms, Harrison, Johnny, Sir Ian, Benecio, Sir Anthony, Paul, Colin, and the pinnacle of all Lipton interviews, as determined by the “LGF”, a.k.a. the Lipton gush factor: the Barbra interview. It would be my job to study the tapes beforehand and make notations that might be of interest to Louis.)
Book him into the Ritz Carlton, and accept only the “Ritz Carlton” Suite;
(Oh, just great. And what if the Ritz Carlton Suite was already booked? Would Louis stand in the lobby and pout until it was made available? Or, as his “person,” would I be made to stand there and pout in his place?)
Book Prudence K. for an in-room massage. Ask for “Barry” at the concierge desk; he will know how to find her. DO NOT ASK VIA SWITCHBOARD!!! (Hmmmm. . . .)
Have four dozen yellow tulips sent to Tatiana, via her modeling agency.
Have a late albeit romantic supper brought up to the suite—Zone, of course. (Can Zone meals be romantic? If not, should I switch the menu to South Beach? I mean, South Beach is more romantic sounding than Zone, so would it not follow that it would taste more sensual, too? Hard to say. )
Next day: fly Virgin Air, upper class, to Heathrow, where Louis would complete voice-over production on his last British film, a dark take on Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca , starring Louis in the Olivier/Maxim de Winter role. It’s considered edgy because it ends with Louis’s character actually being tried and
Similar Books
