Hello, Hollywood! (18 page)

“Well, there you go,” I said. “The hairy beast is tamed by a lowly cat.”

“There’s nothing lowly about my cat.” Lenora hunched over to scoop up the feline. Fat Cat continued to hiss until she offered him a bite of a cinnamon roll. “There you go, sweet baby. Don’t let that mean old dog bother you.”

The mean old dog—as it were—continued to creep backward, likely still scared by the mean old cat. I saw Stephen approaching from a distance. He took one look at Zeus, then looked at me, eyes growing wide. Putting his finger over his lips, he motioned for me not to say a word. I didn’t. Instead, I watched in silence as he snuck up behind Zeus, grabbing him at just the right moment. Perfect. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Stephen’s eyebrows elevated, and his voice went up an octave or two as he quoted one of my favorite movie lines: “I’ll get you, my pretty, and your little dog too!”

Lenora looked over from her chair. “Oh, I know that one!
The Wizard of Oz.
Margaret Hamilton. 1939.”

Stephen just shook his head and continued to clutch the dog, which squirmed in his arms. “You brought Zeus to the studio?” He looked at me with that “I don’t quite believe it” expression on his face. “Seriously?”

“No. Mama and Brooke brought him. I just ended up with him somehow. Not my choosing, trust me.”

“Brooke is here?” His face lit into a smile.

“Yes. You left your cell phone at home. She brought it to you.”

“Ah. And we got a dog in the mix?”

“We did. One with lots of energy.”

“It’s all that expensive food I’ve been feeding him,” Stephen said. “That stuff is loaded with vitamins and minerals.”

“Of course it is.”

I followed him into the studio, where he put the dog back in the crate and then swept his daughter into his arms to thank her for saving his neck by bringing the phone.

“I’ve been waiting on a couple of calls from my agent,” he said. “Hope I didn’t miss them.”

He slipped Brooke some extra money for shopping, and she and my mama left with smiles on their faces. Thankfully, they took Zeus with them. And though I looked forward to my day at work, I envied them a little. What would it be like to spend the day helping Brooke shop for clothes?

Stephen and I made our way to the writing room, where we found Paul lying on the floor on his back, talking on his cell phone. The minute he saw us, he sat straight up, looking like a kid who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Odd. He ended the call, then reached for his laptop.

“Thought you guys would never get here.”

“We’re here,” I said. “But it’s been quite a morning.” I filled him in, sharing the details of the dog story. By the end of it, Paul was laughing. “Crazy mutt. Hope he doesn’t get you fired.”

“Nah. Rex seemed to take it all in stride.” I smiled. “Seems like everyone these days is on my side. Besides, he’s a good dog. He really is.”

Paul did not look convinced. “Are we talking about the same dog that stole my wallet the night we stayed at your parents’ place?”

“That’s the one.”

“That dog makes me laugh,” Stephen said. “Taking him in was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. He’s been a saving grace for Brooke. For me too, actually.”

His words filled me with joy. And relief. “I’m so glad. I honestly think God brought that dog all the way from Greece to bring us together. Funny how a canine can do that.”

“Oh, he still gets me riled up a lot too,” Stephen said. “You should see what he did with the toilet paper he found in the bottom cabinet in my master bathroom. Covered my bedroom in four rolls of the stuff. Looked like it had been snowing in there.” He paused. “But still, dogs will be dogs.”

“And hey, he’s Greek,” I added. “You know that Greeks have a certain inborn temperament.”

“True.” He nodded. “Greeks
do
have a certain inborn temperament that’s rather unique. And it’s not just limited to dogs.” He wiggled his eyebrows and we both laughed.

Strangely, Paul didn’t join in. He didn’t really seem like himself today. In fact, he spent the next several minutes checking messages on his cell phone and avoiding any and all probing questions.

Oh well. There would be plenty of time to quiz him later. Right now we had a new episode to write. Hopefully it would live up to the heightened expectations of our producer and network executives. If not . . . well, I didn’t want to think about the “if nots.” Just one more advantage to being at Step 9 on the plotline. I could simply relax and enjoy the ride.

The next several weeks sailed by. After the “Angie’s Having a Baby” episode aired, the phones went crazy. Turned out the show’s viewers were ecstatic at the news of the baby’s impending arrival. And they particularly loved the whole
I Love Lucy
approach to sharing the news. George Lopez’s performance as Ricky Ricardo had taken the cake. If things got any better, I might have to throw myself a party.

Turned out someone else took care of that for me.

On a Saturday morning in early December my mother’s voice roused me from my slumber.

“Athena! Athena, come here!”

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, tried to gather my thoughts, and ran into my parents’ room, worried the house was on fire. Instead, I found my mother curled up in bed with her laptop.

“Mama? What’s happened?”

“They’ve listed the Golden Globe nominees.” She pointed to the computer. “It just posted to the site a few minutes ago.”

“Oh?” My excitement grew. Kat must’ve been nominated again. Or Scott. Regardless, our ratings would go up the minute word got out that someone had received a nomination.

“Athena-bean, look.” My father scrolled down, his finger landing on something that caught me totally by surprise. “
Stars Collide
has been nominated for Best Television Series for a Comedy or Musical.”

“No way.” My heart began thumping so hard I thought I might faint. “Seriously?”

“Yes, it’s true. Look here.” Mama pointed to the spot on the screen where the show was listed. What joy! I couldn’t wait to tell Kat.

Oh, Kat.
I scrolled the list until I saw her name listed under Best Performance by an Actress in a Television Series.
She did it! She’s been nominated too!

Grabbing my cell phone was the first order of business. Kat answered with a squeal. “I know, I know! Congratulations, Athena! I’m so happy for you!”

“And I’m so happy for you. This is the best season for
Stars Collide
ever.”

“I knew it would be. The writing has been brilliant.”

“Thank you. I feel like I’m dreaming this.” After an exaggerated yawn, I laughed. “Maybe I am. Mama woke me from a dead sleep to share this news.”

“You’re not dreaming. The show has been nominated for a Golden Globe. And we’re going to win too. I know it.”

On and on she went, singing my praises as a writer and giving me full credit for the show’s success. I’d never been one to have an overinflated ego, but her generous words in the next several minutes almost sent me over the top.
Guard your heart, Athena. Otherwise you might begin to believe your own press.

I vowed to keep things in perspective.

Right after I called Stephen.

He didn’t answer, so I left a “Call me as quick as you can!” message. Sadly, the phone didn’t ring for the rest of the day. I had to wonder why. I tried to reach him that night before bed and got his voice mail again. I thought about sending a text to Brooke but decided it was too late. She was probably sleeping. Oh well. I could share my happy news with Stephen tomorrow. We had plenty of time to celebrate. We also needed to keep up the good work by further developing our writing skills. There were plenty more episodes to be written. Maybe I could stand to take a class or two. Brush up on a few things.

On Monday morning I arrived at the studio early to find everyone buzzing about the nominations. There were high-fives happening all over the place. Rex approached and opened his arms for an embrace.

“I’m so proud of you, Athena. All of you. I knew that episode was great, and I’m glad to hear that others agree.”

“Thank you.” I looked around. “Have you seen Stephen?”

“Not yet. I know he had some sort of meeting yesterday, though, because we were supposed to meet for dinner and he had to cancel. He’s been pretty busy, I think.”

“Ah.” Well, that explained why he hadn’t returned my call. Still, it was a little strange that he hadn’t told me about his meeting. Not that we shared every intimate detail of our lives with each other, but it did feel odd. We were a couple, after all.

Kat stopped me for a hug. So did Tia. The three of us stood together, squealing like a trio of preteen girls. Off in the distance, Jason rolled his eyes at all the noise.

After celebrating with the ladies, I walked down the hallway toward our office, my heart so full I wanted to burst into a song-and-dance number. I arrived to find Paul inside, lying on the floor. Poor guy.

“Back hurting again?” I asked.

“Nah. Just thinking.” He looked up at me with a woeful expression. “Turns out this is a good position for clearing my head.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“My date tonight.”

I stepped inside the room and pulled the door shut behind me. “You’re going out on a date? I thought you’d sworn off women.”

“It’s not a woman. It’s my ex-wife.”

I fought the temptation to ask, “Which one?”

“Sylvia’s back in town and wants to talk to me about something.” He shrugged. “Could be something big. I dunno. I don’t really want to go, but I feel like I should for some reason.”

“Maybe she wants to give you back that dog she got custody of,” I said.

“Nah, she can keep the dog. She got the house and the car. Might as well keep the dog too. I can’t afford the vet bills. It’s one of those goofy little toy poodles. Has all sorts of health issues. Some months we spent more on the vet bills than we did for our own medical stuff.”

“Wow. Well, you’ll have to keep me posted.”
Or not. I guess it’s not really my business.

Paul swung his legs around and sat up, leaning against the wall. “So, did you happen to see the headlines in the entertainment section of today’s paper?”

“No. What headlines?”

He tossed a copy of the newspaper my way. “Check it out. You might want to sit down first, though.”

I opened the newspaper, thumbing through it until I came to the entertainment section. “Oh, cool. They did a piece about our show.” I smiled as I skimmed the article, which talked about the Golden Globe nomination and the episode leading up to it. “Looks like everyone got a kick out of it. They’re glad we’ve added the pregnancy this season, and they think the whole Snidely Whiplash shtick was clever. That’s good.”

“Remind me again whose idea that was?” Paul said, his expression tight.

“You and I came up with it.” I shrugged. “Right?”

“Right.” He gave me a pensive look. “Keep reading.”

I did. When I got to the paragraph where the article credited Stephen Cosse with the writing of the now infamous episode—no mention of any other names—my heart hit the floor. Well, it felt like it did. I must’ve read it wrong.

“It’s got to be some sort of misunderstanding. He would never take the credit for an idea he didn’t come up with.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know him.”

“Yeah, you know him all right.” Paul rolled his eyes.

“I would think very carefully about what you’re about to say,” I suggested. “Because I have a strong suspicion your words are going to paint you into a corner, and it’s going to be hard to get back out again.”

He never flinched. “Let’s just say that not everyone is who they present themselves to be.”

Yep. Learned that with my former fiancé. And your point is . . . ?

“Read the rest, Athena. You’ll see.”

I glanced back down, picking up where I’d left off. Most of what I read seemed benign . . . until I got to a quote from Stephen. “Heading up the writing team is a blast. Can’t remember when I’ve ever had so much fun at work.”

My emotions almost got the better of me as I read and reread the lines. The Stephen I knew would never have put himself in the limelight, leaving the rest of us behind. This had to be some sort of mistake. I folded the paper and set it on the desk. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Now you see my problem,” Paul said. “We’ve been working with someone we thought we could trust. Turns out he’s more like everyone else in Hollywood than he claimed to be. So much for that boy-next-door persona, right? He’s been out to put a knife in our backs all along. Makes me sick to think he was just using us.”

“I don’t want to jump to conclusions, Paul.”

“You don’t have to. That article did it for you.”

“There’s got to be a reason. He was misquoted, maybe. Something.”

“I just know it doesn’t settle well with me. We were nominated for a Golden Globe. A Golden Globe, Athena. We should be celebrating. Instead, we’re talking about someone else taking the credit for our work. That’s not right. You have to see that.”

“I see what it looks like. But sometimes what we think we see isn’t always what’s there.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re too naive. Always willing to trust, even when it’s not reasonable.”

At this point, I couldn’t really tell what was reasonable and what wasn’t. I only knew in my heart of hearts that Stephen couldn’t possibly have taken the credit for something he didn’t do. No way. Not that he hadn’t played a role in writing that episode. Part of the credit was his, naturally. But not all. And he knew that.

I thought about all of this as Paul and I turned back to our work. When Stephen entered the room a few minutes later, I wanted to come right out and ask him, but I didn’t dare, not with Paul present.

“Hey, Athena.” A broad smile lit Stephen’s face. “I’ve been trying to reach you.” He pulled me into a warm embrace. “I’m so proud of you. And so happy about the Golden Globe nomination. Isn’t it the best news ever?”

“Yeah. It’s great news.” I took a breath and contemplated my next words. “I hear that your HBO special was nominated too. Congratulations.”

Paul grunted. Well, maybe he grunted. Maybe he cleared his throat. I couldn’t really tell for sure.

“Thanks.” Stephen walked over to the divan and put his laptop down on the coffee table. “I was in a meeting last night with my agent. He wants me to play up the double nomination. We’re trying to figure out how to take advantage of this opportunity.”

“Looks like you already have,” Paul said.

Stephen gave him a curious look. “What do you mean?”

I handed him the paper. “You did an interview with a reporter about the episode we wrote?”

“I did?” He looked stupefied. “Unless they interviewed me in my sleep, no. What did they say about me?”

“Just read it.”

I looked on as his eyes skimmed the page. When he got to the halfway point in the article, Stephen looked up. “This is crazy. I never said this.”

Paul coughed.

“No, really. I didn’t say a word of this. Doesn’t even sound like me. Can’t you tell?”

“I don’t know you well enough to tell,” Paul said. “Are we supposed to believe some reporter just randomly came up with a quote from you?”

Stephen shook his head. “I have a feeling I know what happened. I’m sure my agent is behind this. But I can promise you, I had nothing to do with it. I would never do anything like this to you two.”

“I need to get out of here before I say something I’m going to regret.” Paul grabbed his coffee cup and swung the door open. He turned back for a moment. “Do you remember the ‘Bupkis’ episode from
The Dick Van Dyke Show
?”

“Wasn’t that the one where Rob coauthored a song with a friend, then the song became a big hit?” I asked.

“Yes.” Paul stared at Stephen. “Rob didn’t get any credit for writing it, but his friend did.”

Ouch. You had to go there.

“I’ve also been thinking about that episode where Laura wanted to write a children’s story, then Rob rewrote it and made it his own. He took her heart and soul out of it.” He shook his head, muttered, “I need to go clear my head,” then disappeared down the hallway.

Stephen looked my way, his shoulders slumped forward. “Athena, you don’t really think I would do something like that to you, do you? Take the credit, I mean.”

“No. I know you better than that. It just stinks, that’s all.”

“Of course it does. And I’m going to make it right. I’ll make sure they reprint the story. In the meantime, you’ve got to give me the benefit of the doubt.”

I felt a lump in my throat but managed to speak above it. “Of course I will. This just takes a little bit of the joy out of our news.”

“Don’t let it. Please.”

“It’s hard enough being female in this industry, but to have a male writer get all of the credit when I’m the show’s head writer . . . it just stinks.” I trembled, in part because I felt tears coming on. “You’ll never know how tough it is for me, and this just makes it tougher. I know you didn’t cause this, but you have to see it’s like a slap in the face.”

“I’m so sorry, Athena. Of course I know how hard it is for you,” he said. “Women have to work twice as hard to get half the acknowledgment in this industry. I know that. And I can only imagine how this must make you feel.” He tried to draw me into his arms, but I wasn’t having it. Not right now.

“This just reinforces the misperception that female writers aren’t funny,” I said with a shrug. “Otherwise why would a male writer be singled out over a female as the author of the funniest episode?”

“If that’s the perception, then people don’t know you. If they did, they’d know that you’re a laugh a minute.”