Heartthrob (14 page)

She shoved the telephone closer to him. “You’re not going to call Ron back. And if you
do
call him, you’re not going to have him call your lawyer and press charges. You fooled me for a minute, Beaumont. Your acting is brilliant, but I know too much about you. You’d sell your soul to the devil for this role, if you had to. You’re not going to throw it away now. You love Laramie as much as I do.”

So now what? She had him pegged. Hell, she had him nailed to the wall. For a half a second, Jed actually considered picking up the phone and calling Ron. For a half a second, he considered taking the money—if only to prove to Kate O’Laughlin that she was wrong.

But she wasn’t wrong. She was right. Playing Laramie meant more to him than money. It meant more to him than his pride.

Jed sat there as she glared across her desk at him. She
was leaning slightly forward, supporting herself with both hands, fingers splayed across her desk. He’d pissed her off, and now she was ready to do battle. She’d fight him to the death, if need be.

Perfect. He’d come in here planning to win her over, soften her up, make friends. Instead he’d managed to completely alienate her. Now she looked at him, and she didn’t just see a loser. Now she saw the loser who had threatened the existence of her movie, the sorry-assed loser whose threats were nothing but an empty bluff.

He knew the smartest thing he could do was apologize and get the hell out of there.

But he couldn’t do it. Because although she had won, her position had been considerably weakened. If he had any chance at all of negotiating, it was going to happen now.

“I want doors on both of my bathrooms,” Jed said quietly, fighting the anger that licked through him at the thought that such a thing would have to be negotiated. “And I want ’em there before I go to bed tonight.”

Kate nodded tersely. “All right.”

He looked her in the eye and didn’t try to hide his distaste for this entire situation. “I also want veto power in regards to Hollander’s replacement. And don’t even think about hiring someone from an ad in the back pages of
Mercenary
magazine.”

Kate sat down as if her knees had suddenly given out. She, too, spoke quietly, as if she’d had more than enough shouting for the day. “I was thinking about trying to find someone who’d worked in a rehab center. Someone who would know what the issues are, without the drill-sergeant attitude and the handcuffs.”

“Handcuffs are no problem—as long as my supervisor is named Trixie and wears high-heeled boots and carries a whip. Do we have a deal regarding my veto power?”

“No. I’ll certainly make arrangements for you to meet the candidates, but ultimately the choice will be mine.”

“Yeah, why stop when you’re on a roll? You did so well with your last pick.” Jed couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

She straightened a pile of papers and files that were on her desk. “Win the Oscar, Mr. Beaumont,” she said tightly. “You’ll be in a far better negotiating position then.”

“Better than lying naked on my back with my hands cuffed and chained to the wall?” Jed stopped himself and stood up. It was probably time to leave—before he got even more blunt and honest. But then it occurred to him: “What’s going to happen until the replacement shows up?”

She looked up at him and spread her hands in a shrug. “I don’t know. I haven’t gotten that far yet. I’m going to have to talk to Victor. Until then, maybe one of the gofers would want to earn some overtime.”

“Yeah, the average age of the gofers is what? Twenty-two? I don’t know whether to laugh or be insulted that you’re considering letting one of them be my baby-sitter. You know Tony offered me dope and a hit from his hip flask three different times this morning.”

Kate shot out of her chair as if her underpants were on fire. “He
what
?”

Jed backed toward the door. “Hey, it’s not a big deal. I think he didn’t know what to say around me, so he offered what he considered to be a refreshment. He’s not a bad kid. It wasn’t as if he was trying to mess me up.”

Kate picked up her phone and dialed. “Hi, Annie. You know the gofer named Tony?” She paused. “Tony Evans. That’s him. Give him his walking papers, please.”

“Whoa,” Jed said. “Wait a minute.”

But Kate wasn’t listening. “Yeah, that’s right, and you can tell him that this is a drug-free set. Tell him he’s welcome to come and talk to me, but that’s not going to change anything.”

“Kate, I didn’t tell you that so you’d fire the kid!” He might as well have been invisible for all of the attention she paid him.

“Yeah,” she said into the telephone, to her assistant, “and find a replacement. We had a bunch of applications come in from people who live here in town. Stress the fact that there will be no drugs on my set. And then come to my office, please.” Kate hung up the phone.

Jed stared at her. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“Why?” she said. “You want him around to be your supplier?”

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s at least as funny as most of the things that come out of your mouth.” She reached into the bottom drawer of her desk and took out a urine test kit. “I think you know what to do with this.”

“I know what I’d
like
to do with it.”

“See what I mean?” She pushed it across her desk, closer to him. “You’re a real laugh riot, too.”

He pushed the urine collector back toward her. “This isn’t necessary. I told you about Tony. I’m not trying to hide anything. I’d have to be pretty stupid to use what Tony offered and then tell you about it.”

Kate picked up the plastic-wrapped urine test kit and put it down—very firmly—on the edge of the desk near Jed. “Here are some facts. I’m sorry for what happened to you last night, but I don’t trust you. I do trust the lab. As far as how stupid you are—I suppose that could be countered by asking how stupid I would be
not
to test you.”

Jed sat there.

Kate came around her desk, picked up the test kit, and placed it into his hands. “Get busy.” She breezed toward the door. “I’ll have Annie escort you to the men’s room. By default, she’ll be spending the rest of the day with you while I figure out what to do about tonight. In the meantime, try not to act too much like a snake, will you? She’s really shy, and if you scare her, I swear, I’ll break your knees.”

Jed stood up. “Sorry, you can’t break my knees. According to my contract, the only thing you’re entitled to break are my balls.”

She didn’t blink, but her telltale blush gave her away. “Oh, and one more thing. I want to see you this evening at the dailies.”

No way. Jed had a policy of never watching footage shot during the day. All of the mistakes glared without the gloss of editing and musical score. The few times he’d watched dailies, he’d gotten the king of all tension headaches. “Sorry, I’ve got an AA meeting tonight, and according to my contract, I can’t miss it.”

“I’ll write you a permission slip,” she said. “I want you at the dailies.”

“I don’t watch ’em,” he told her. “I can barely bring myself to watch a movie’s final cut.”

“Well, tonight you’re going to have to get tough. There’s something I need you to see. Be there at seven-thirty.”

“Gee, sorry, you left the mandatory viewing of dailies clause off that contract addendum. I’m not going.”

Kate smiled. It was far too sweet a smile. “It also doesn’t say anywhere in the addendum that I have to put the door back on your bathroom.”

Jed stopped short.

“If you show up at seven-thirty, I’ll give the work order. If not …” She shrugged and opened the office door.

Her ghostly assistant, Annie, was standing there, about to knock.

“Good,” Kate said briskly. “You’re here. Please escort Mr. Beaumont to the men’s room and then to the Grill for lunch. Stay with him until I tell you otherwise. And call me if he gives you any trouble.” She turned to Jed. “Don’t make her call me.”

Kate closed the door behind him, leaving him standing
in the outer office with Annie, who looked as if she were going to faint.

“Wow,” he said. “I think Kate’s starting to like me.”

Victor didn’t hesitate. “No.”

Kate took a step backward. “No? Just … no? Automatically no? Can’t you at least pretend to think about it?”

“I don’t need to think about it.” Victor leaned over and started taking off his boots. “I’m not the one who’s got a problem with Beaumont, remember? You are.”

“Victor, please. Just for tonight? I’ve asked everyone else I could think of. I’d trust Nate or Ethan, but both their wives work nights as nurses over at the hospital. They need to be home to watch their kids. Talking about desperate—I even called Harlan Kincaid.”

“Who?”

“
Pastor
Kincaid?”

“Why can’t he do it?” Victor tossed his boots into the corner of the motel room, and started stripping off his T-shirt.

“He’s busy. He’s got a life of his own. I don’t know. He didn’t tell me specifically, and I didn’t think it was appropriate to demand why. He said he’d be available to stay with Jericho during the day every now and then. And he gave me a good lead on a permanent replacement for Hollander but …” Kate took a deep breath. “Victor. I’m asking you to do me a favor. If you don’t help me,
I’m
going to have to stay with Laramie—I mean, Jericho—tonight, and will you please stop taking off your clothes?”

He took off his glasses and set them down on top of the television set. “I have to get into the shower. I’m running really late. Naomi came to town early, and I’m supposed to meet her for dinner in five minutes.”

Naomi Michaelson. “Oh,” Kate said, the last of her hope dying.

“Look, Katie, I know I’m being a selfish son of a bitch,
but I can’t help you out tonight. This girl came here because she wanted to see me. And if things go according to plan, I won’t be able to help you out tomorrow or the next night, either. In fact, let’s be optimistic here and cross me off your baby-sitter list for the entire month of June and half of July. I’m planning to be very busy at night for the next few weeks. Thank God.”

It was going to have to be her. Kate felt sick.
She
was going to have to spend the night with Jericho in his trailer. Not just tonight, but tomorrow night, and the next night, and on and on—until she found a permanent replacement.

Even the lead Harlan Kincaid had given her—a Grady Falls man who was teaching high school up in New York City—wouldn’t be available until school let out at the end of June.

“How about asking Russell McCoy to stay with Jericho?” Victor laughed at his joke. “We could get a betting pool going as to which one of ’em would still be alive when we unlocked the trailer door in the morning.”

Kate put her head in her hands.

“You know, Jericho put in a performance today that was off the scale,” Victor told her. “And this was
after
he’d spent most of a sleepless night in chains. He’s going to make this movie
sing.
I know you’re still skeptical, but I’m telling you, he’s fabulous. He knows what I want before
I
know what I want.”

He started taking off his Bermuda shorts, and Kate stood up and turned away. “This is going to be a great movie, right?” she asked him. “And all these problems I’m dealing with—it’s all going to be worth it?”

Victor didn’t answer. He was already in the shower.

“O
kay, here’s the deal,” Kate said as she slipped into the restaurant booth across from Jericho. “I’m it.”

Jericho didn’t stop eating his salad. He didn’t even look up. “Are we playing tag or something?”

“No,” she said. “I wish this was a game, but it’s not. The gofers need supervision themselves, the crew is all union, the actors have enough to worry about, and I wouldn’t trust any of the PA’s farther than I could throw them—except for Annie, who would go into cardiac arrest if she had to camp out in your trailer all night.”

He was looking up at her now, realization dawning in his eyes. Realization and something else. Amusement, maybe. Or some kind of perverse pleasure. A slow smile spread across his face. “
You’re
going to be my supervisor?”

Kate nodded briskly, looking everywhere but at his face. Smiles like that should be illegal. “Yes. Until I can find a permanent replacement, it looks like we’re stuck with this … somewhat awkward situation.”

She glanced up at him and saw that his smile had turned into laughter. He had lines at the corners of his eyes that deepened when he laughed, making him somehow—
impossibly—even more good-looking, damn him. He wasn’t Virgil Laramie. He
wasn’t.

“It’s hardly funny,” she said tightly. “We can’t spend more than five minutes together without fighting. We’re both going to need to cooperate—extensively—to make this work.”

“If you cooperate by playing out my female warden fantasy, I can guarantee you the fighting will be a lot more fun.”

“There,” she said, pointing at him. “That—in the name of cooperation—is exactly what you need to stop doing. Always making suggestive comments thinly veiled as jokes. Saying stuff like that is not going to help this situation.”

“Yeah, but it makes you blush. How old are you, anyway? Don’t you know the average American woman stops blushing when she reaches seventeen?”