Hello, Hollywood! (7 page)

“Of course.” Mama flew into action, preparing sandwiches for everyone. I watched as Stephen ordered our Super-Duper Deluxe Gyro, loaded with peppers and onions. Mmm. A man after my own heart.

Watch it, Athena. You don’t even know if you can trust this guy yet.

To his right, Lenora rambled on about tornadoes, flying monkeys, and poppy fields. She hollered for the dog to join her, calling him Toto. Strangely, he came when called and nuzzled up against her. Perhaps she’d won him over with her costume. Or maybe it had something to do with the nibbles of meat she slipped him from the tray on the counter. Either way, the dog was smitten.

For that matter, so was I. Staring at Stephen, I had to admit the truth—this guy had charmed me with his goodness toward my mother, his ability to calm Zeus, and his heart for his daughter.

If I wasn’t so busy hating him for stealing my job—well, potentially stealing my job, anyway—I might be tempted to follow him right on down the yellow-brick road.

On Monday morning I arrived at the studio, determined to give Stephen the benefit of the doubt. Ironically, both of my other writing companions had gone missing. Paul had stayed home with a head cold—for which I was grateful—but Bob simply didn’t show up. I tried calling him at nine, but he didn’t answer. Strange. He usually beat me to the office, especially on the days when I showed up with leftovers from Super-Gyros.

By nine thirty, I’d passed the food items off to Stephen, who grabbed a fork—
Thank you, Lord
—to eat the salad. With such a huge appetite, he didn’t need much in the way of conversation. Right now it would be better if we just worked. Well, tried to work, anyway. I still hadn’t figured out his approach to the sitcom, or whether or not he could even write. Part of me hoped he could, of course, and part of me hoped he stunk at this. Not a very Christian attitude, but I struggled with it just the same.

I’d never seen a man enjoy food as much as he appeared to enjoy that salad. The look of contentment on his face reminded me of my father. Interesting.

“So, let’s talk about next week’s episode,” Stephen said between bites. “I had some thoughts about it. Tell me what you think about this idea.” He dove off into some crazy idea about Angie and Jack opening up their talent agency to elderly Hollywood stars. Totally threw me. Guess we were really over the whole “Angie announces her pregnancy” idea. Bummer.

On and on Stephen went, chattering about the opportunity for chaos, should we choose to include elderly cast members. I found the idea strange at best. And perplexing. Was he missing the point of the show? Stars Collide was a talent agency for children. Children. Not elderly people.

Just about the time I worked up the courage to state my case, he took the conversation in a different direction.

“I’ve been taking a class on plotting,” he said. “And I’d like to implement some of the things I’ve learned.”

“Okay.” I shrugged.

“So, here’s the premise of the class. Twelve steps in the plotline.”

“Right.” I nodded. “It’s called the Hero’s Journey.”

“Ah.” He gave me a funny look. “You’ve heard of it.”

“Of course.” Did he think I was an idiot? And what in the world did this have to do with adding elderly cast members?

“Well, I think we need to be aware at every step of the game where Angie and Jack are in the plotline. That’s how we’ll keep the show moving forward. Right now we’re in a new season, so we’re basically back near the beginning. I’d say we’re on Step 2.”

“Which one is Step 2?” I asked. “Refresh my memory.”

From the look on his face, I could tell he would enjoy telling me all about it. “It’s the ‘Call to Adventure,’” he said. “That’s where the hero—or heroine—gets called out of his or her comfort zone.”

Ironic. That’s the step I happen to be at in my own personal plotline.

“So, Jack and Angie are about to be called to do something new with the agency. Is that what you’re saying? Hence the suggestion about senior citizens.”

“Exactly.” He lit back into his idea of bringing elderly cast members into the show, focusing on the positive changes this could bring to the season.

“But it’s an agency for kids,” I argued. “Always has been. I can’t even imagine this show being about anything other than that.”

“Right. I’ve watched this show from the beginning, so I know all about it,” Stephen said. “Angie had her talent agency. Jack had his talent agency. They were chief competitors. Then, with some prompting from the kids, they overcame their obstacles—laid down their jealousies of each other—and fell in love. Got all that. I’m just thinking it’s time to jump outside the box. Do something the viewers won’t expect. Stir things up a little.”

Things are being stirred up, all right.

He kept talking, but my thoughts parked on what he’d just said. I found the whole thing about Jack and Angie starting out as competitors strangely ironic, in light of my current situation. Stephen might not be a competitor, but on some levels he felt like one.

“Anyway, Jack and Angie have always represented kids,” Stephen said. “I know that, and it’s made for plenty of great antics along the way. But I think it would be fun to bring in a host of aging Hollywood stars—folks considered to be past their expiration date in the industry. Our two talent scouts can help them jump-start their careers. Well, the next phase of their careers, anyway.”

I had to admit, it was an interesting idea. And I could almost envision the kids interacting with the aging men and women of Hollywood. Might be funny to see who we could get. A host of elderly stars came to mind, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“We’ve already got Lenora Worth, for Pete’s sake.” Stephen reached for his coffee cup. “She’s an icon in this industry. But she’s not in very many episodes. We need to take advantage of the fact that she’s already on the payroll and use her more.”

“You might not know this, but she’s in the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s,” I explained. “Working with her is tricky. She thinks it’s still 1957.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Gotcha. I’ve noticed her interesting clothing choices. Guess that explains it.”

“Right. The folks in the wardrobe department stock her closet at home, but she doesn’t know that. Kat makes sure she’s always got the gowns she needs to make her feel content. We all do what we can to ease her concerns when things get iffy. We had a close call last season. When Jack and Angie got engaged on the show, she thought Scott and Kat were engaged in real life too.”

“I remember reading about that in the newspaper. They did end up getting married in real life, right?”

“Right.” I grinned, remembering how they’d pulled one over on us. “Anyway, Lenora gets confused. That was my point.”

“And I’m sure if we bring in other elderly stars, we’re bound to have a few issues like that,” he said. “But it will be worth it.”

“I must say, the kids adore Lenora.” I paused to think this through. Maybe I’d been too quick to nix his idea. “Merging old people and young people might work.”

“I think so, and I really like the idea of bringing in people who are considered to be washed up.” He shrugged, a sympathetic look on his face. “I don’t know. It’s always nice to give second chances. There are so few of them in life, and even fewer in Hollywood. People out here always want the latest, greatest thing. They forget the people from days gone by.”

“Yeah. Viewers are fickle,” I said.

“Not just viewers. Directors. Producers. Network executives. They forget the generations of people who’ve gone before us, paving the way.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just think we need to give honor where honor is due, and there are a lot of people—like Rex and Lenora—who’ve given their lives for this industry. I’d hate to think they would get to the end of their days and not be recognized for what they’ve done.”

Man.
“Well, when you put it like that, of course we should include senior citizens in the show!”

“See?” Stephen reached over and touched my hand, sending a little shiver through me. “I knew we’d get along. From the moment you stepped on my foot, I had the overwhelming sense that we were a match made in heaven.”

My jaw locked up at that proclamation.

“A literary match, I mean.” He winked, and my heart fluttered. Goodness. Did this guy have a way with words or what? So much for thinking he had no writing talent.

I’d just opened my mouth to respond—though what I would say was still a mystery—when the door swung open. Bob stuck his head inside and hollered, “Papa’s home. Is dinner ready?”

A wave of relief swept over me. Things would be less awkward with a third party in the room . . . even if it happened to be wacky Bob.

“It’s about time,” I said. “Where have you been? We’ve been trying to work on this week’s episode, but—”

“Are you sitting down?” Bob interrupted me with a suspicious twinkle in his eye.

Stephen and I looked at each other on the couch.

“Um, yeah, dude.” Stephen gestured to the divan.

“What’s up?” I asked.

Bob stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. “Remember I told you how George Clooney’s production company was looking at my Amish vampire story?”

Who could forget? “Yes,” I said. “But why are we whispering?”

“They want it.”

“W-what?” I rose and crossed the room to meet him, my heart plummeting to my toes. “Are you serious? They’re buying your script?”

A pained expression crossed his face. “Why do you look so surprised? I’ve told you all along that it would sell.”

“Well, yes, but . . .” I should be happy for the guy, right? So why did I suddenly feel like the world had tilted off its axis?

“My agent just called to give me the news, so I had to rush over to his office to finalize the details. Sign the contract and all that. Not only that, they’re going to try to get Keira Knightley to play the lead. What do you think?”

I’m thinking that this is all some sort of joke. That an Amish vampire is going to jump out from behind the desk and holler, “I don’t exist! How could you possibly write a movie about me?”

“Production begins in a couple of weeks,” he said, clearly oblivious to my internal wrangling. “So I have to sign off of
Stars Collide
ASAP to get ready. I can hardly wait. It’s going to be a blast.” Off he went on a tangent, talking about his plans for the next few weeks.

“Wait.” I shook my head. “Sign off. You mean . . . quit?”

“Yep.” He nodded. “Looks that way.”

“Just like that? But you’re under contract.”

“Yeah, I know.” He sighed. “Hoping Rex will let me out of it. My second cousin twice removed is a lawyer. Criminal defense, but I guess that part doesn’t matter. He says I can get out of it if I handle things carefully. That’s what I plan to do, anyway. You know me, Athena. I can schmooze my way through anything. I’ll get out of this. I’ll have my cake and eat it too.”

“Better idea,” Stephen said. “Don’t quit. Just take a leave of absence. Ask Rex to hold your job for you. This kind of thing happens in Hollywood all the time, you know.”

“Brilliant!” Bob’s face lit in a confident smile.

“Besides, how long could it take to film a movie?” Stephen asked. “A couple months? Three at most. Right?”

“Who knows?” Bob reached for the Super-Gyros bag, coming out with a container of cookies. “I’ve never filmed a movie before. Shoot, even the layout of the script was different from what we use in television. I’ll admit, this is all pretty new to me, but I’m looking forward to it. I like a good challenge.” He opened the cookies and popped one in his mouth. Whole. He talked around it, rambling on and on about his future as a film writer. “Don’t know if I want to come back to television or not,” he added, then grabbed another cookie.

I plopped back down onto the sofa, my thoughts a jumbled mess. Bob . . . leaving? Sure, he’d threatened dozens of times, but to actually do it? I couldn’t imagine it. We’d always been a team. The Three Stooges. Larry, Moe, and Curly. Now that Curly was leaving, we’d be Larry, Moe, and Stephen. Just didn’t have the same ring to it. And Stephen could never fill Bob’s shoes. Not really. Oh, he might be pretty to look at, but did he have that same sarcastic edge—the one I counted on from episode to episode? Probably not. And I still didn’t know if he could write. Only time would tell on that one.

Another thing bothered me a little too. Bob had actually sold that Amish vampire screenplay. His career was taking a turn, propelling him forward.

Looks like he’s on Step 2 in his plotline too. Getting a real-life call to adventure. Ironic.

Strange how bleak my future looked in comparison.

Calm down, Athena. Be happy for your friend. Jealousy is a sin, remember?

In between cookies, Bob continued to share, his enthusiasm apparently growing. “This is going to be great. My agent says the 15 percent he earns off me will be enough to buy a house. Can you even imagine how much my cut is going to be? I’m going to have it made in the shade. I’ll get that place in Malibu I’ve been dreaming of.”

Stephen crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back on the divan. “Well, don’t put all your eggs in one basket, as my mama used to say. Sorry to be so cliché, and I sure don’t want to put a damper on your spirits, but I’m afraid you’re going to wind up in a jam if you’re not careful. I’m speaking from personal experience. Sometimes what looks like the deal of a lifetime turns out to be a lemon.”

“Yeah, promise me you won’t do anything rash, Bob,” I threw in.

“Like what?” He nibbled the edge of another cookie.

“Like taking the money you earn and moving off to Tahiti or something.”

A faraway look came over him. “Hey, a guy could write a lot of movies in Tahiti.” Bob grinned. “But no worries. I won’t spend the money till I have it. And even then, I don’t know that I’ll do anything crazy.” He offered a weak shrug. “Maybe I’ll think about that leave-of-absence angle. Come back to
Stars Collide
after we’re done filming. Might work.”

I wanted to say, “Pray about it,” but thought he might find my words a little too religious. I would pray about it, of course. We needed Bob to return. As crazy as he made me, I would miss him. Terribly.