it.”
“I’ll get back to you—”
“And?”
“I love you.” I giggled and hung up.
“Roman’s a big fan of mine,” Vicky shot at me.
I stood, trying to stop laughing.
“You need west coast supervision. I know how to handle Jack Hanscomb.”
The west coast executives were going to try to gang up on me. I had to get to Israel and mend fences between Jack and Anita, or else.
“I’d love your input on
my
film,” I said firmly.
“But I hear your friend Anita can’t control the set. Jack Hanscomb won’t let her direct him.”
Gossip fueled the business. There were no secrets.
“Oh, they’re great together.” I spread my hands. “The real story is how the difference between Jack and Anita will spark the screen.”
“So what are the differences?” She sounded triumphant.
“He’s Mr. Macho-gorgeous star,” I said, “and she’s the intellectual hustler with the power complex who shops at Bendel’s.”
“Sounds like a nightmare.”
“They’re cooking. He told me he’s got a major crush on her.” I was praying she’d repeat my airbrushed version to her mentor.
She looked cynical. “You’re lucky you’re back here in New York. With your lack of experience they’d eat you alive in Hollywood.”
“Somebody take a bite out of you?” I asked sympathetically.
“They wouldn’t dare.” She smiled.
“Too tough.” I smiled back. “How long you been away from New York?”
“I grew up here.”
“I know the city like the palm of my hand.” I held up my hand to her.
She put on that taunting, glowing smile again. “I hear Michael Finley hired you just to nail down Anita’s next property.”
“He got it, didn’t he? Look, play your cards right and I’ll set up a meeting for you with Anita sometime.” Then I was out the door. I’m fast on my feet when I have to be. “I got to meet some local movie talent.”
I heard her snickering from the doorway. “Send them out to Hollywood.”
“Over my dead body,” I muttered to myself. I was waving at Rosemary who was down the corridor giving me a thumbs-up sign. I ran into her office. She was jumping up and down, laughing.
I pounded her desk with relief. “Polanski, great going.”
“My finest hour,” she said, settling back in her typing chair.
“You deserve a raise.”
“I’ll draft you a memo for personnel,” she said. “Hey, I canceled your lunch date. We’ll hotfoot it over to the passport office.”
“Give me five minutes.” Inside my office Rosemary had closed the blinds. The wallpaper glowed with diffused light. I curled up in my corner of the couch, sitting on my stockinged feet.
I had to get over to Israel. My neck tensed; I hate sleeping cooped up on airplanes. But if Vicky’d heard about Anita and Jack fighting, the problem was getting out of hand. I hoped Anita hadn’t deserted the set to intimidate Jack into cooperating. I am one of the few people in the entire world who can handle her tantrums.
I snuggled into the rounded corner of my couch near the flashing phones. It calmed me down to look at my favorite photograph on my wall of Jimmy Dean’s innocent inward-looking face posed against the barns and fields of his hometown. No matter what happened to him in Hollywood, that face still looked like Indiana farm country.
Rosemary thrust a pile of papers at me inside a wire basket. “You’re pressed for time,” she told me. “Sign the requisitions for payroll checks first.” Then she ran back to her phones. I quickly dialed Tel Aviv and made a Red Cross nurse promise to send a helicopter to the island. I wanted Anita found fast.
I signed another form for a check to Jack’s business manager for $60,000. I was paying him nearly $20,000 for each minute of final screen time. Three million for the whole picture. I flushed, remembering his cocky laugh last night.
I heard a commotion in the outer office. Rosemary appeared in the doorway holding a huge paper cone of flowers.“For you,” she
“I’ll get back to you—”
“And?”
“I love you.” I giggled and hung up.
“Roman’s a big fan of mine,” Vicky shot at me.
I stood, trying to stop laughing.
“You need west coast supervision. I know how to handle Jack Hanscomb.”
The west coast executives were going to try to gang up on me. I had to get to Israel and mend fences between Jack and Anita, or else.
“I’d love your input on
my
film,” I said firmly.
“But I hear your friend Anita can’t control the set. Jack Hanscomb won’t let her direct him.”
Gossip fueled the business. There were no secrets.
“Oh, they’re great together.” I spread my hands. “The real story is how the difference between Jack and Anita will spark the screen.”
“So what are the differences?” She sounded triumphant.
“He’s Mr. Macho-gorgeous star,” I said, “and she’s the intellectual hustler with the power complex who shops at Bendel’s.”
“Sounds like a nightmare.”
“They’re cooking. He told me he’s got a major crush on her.” I was praying she’d repeat my airbrushed version to her mentor.
She looked cynical. “You’re lucky you’re back here in New York. With your lack of experience they’d eat you alive in Hollywood.”
“Somebody take a bite out of you?” I asked sympathetically.
“They wouldn’t dare.” She smiled.
“Too tough.” I smiled back. “How long you been away from New York?”
“I grew up here.”
“I know the city like the palm of my hand.” I held up my hand to her.
She put on that taunting, glowing smile again. “I hear Michael Finley hired you just to nail down Anita’s next property.”
“He got it, didn’t he? Look, play your cards right and I’ll set up a meeting for you with Anita sometime.” Then I was out the door. I’m fast on my feet when I have to be. “I got to meet some local movie talent.”
I heard her snickering from the doorway. “Send them out to Hollywood.”
“Over my dead body,” I muttered to myself. I was waving at Rosemary who was down the corridor giving me a thumbs-up sign. I ran into her office. She was jumping up and down, laughing.
I pounded her desk with relief. “Polanski, great going.”
“My finest hour,” she said, settling back in her typing chair.
“You deserve a raise.”
“I’ll draft you a memo for personnel,” she said. “Hey, I canceled your lunch date. We’ll hotfoot it over to the passport office.”
“Give me five minutes.” Inside my office Rosemary had closed the blinds. The wallpaper glowed with diffused light. I curled up in my corner of the couch, sitting on my stockinged feet.
I had to get over to Israel. My neck tensed; I hate sleeping cooped up on airplanes. But if Vicky’d heard about Anita and Jack fighting, the problem was getting out of hand. I hoped Anita hadn’t deserted the set to intimidate Jack into cooperating. I am one of the few people in the entire world who can handle her tantrums.
I snuggled into the rounded corner of my couch near the flashing phones. It calmed me down to look at my favorite photograph on my wall of Jimmy Dean’s innocent inward-looking face posed against the barns and fields of his hometown. No matter what happened to him in Hollywood, that face still looked like Indiana farm country.
Rosemary thrust a pile of papers at me inside a wire basket. “You’re pressed for time,” she told me. “Sign the requisitions for payroll checks first.” Then she ran back to her phones. I quickly dialed Tel Aviv and made a Red Cross nurse promise to send a helicopter to the island. I wanted Anita found fast.
I signed another form for a check to Jack’s business manager for $60,000. I was paying him nearly $20,000 for each minute of final screen time. Three million for the whole picture. I flushed, remembering his cocky laugh last night.
I heard a commotion in the outer office. Rosemary appeared in the doorway holding a huge paper cone of flowers.“For you,” she
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