Hello, Hollywood! (9 page)

“So different?” my mother tried.

“So crazy?” my father chimed in.

“So perfect,” she whispered.

We could’ve heard a pin drop at that one. The silence lingered beyond the point of comfort, and I eventually broke it by clearing my throat.

Mama, probably nervous, began to pass the food. Before long, every plate was full, and contented sighs filled the room as we began eating. Still, I couldn’t let the opportunity to say something pass me by.

“We do talk about dumb things sometimes, honey. And just so you know, we’re far from perfect. But I also want you to know that I’m really grateful to have my home and my family . . . and my heritage.”

Okay, I could tell from the yawn that I’d lost her at the word
heritage
. Maybe I’d taken it one step too far. Still, I think she got my point. And I happened to agree with her father—she needed to understand and appreciate her heritage. One day it would mean a lot to her.

“When I grow up, I want a house like this,” she said. “One with a dining room table and lots of people around it.”

I caught the look of panic in Stephen’s eyes. Clearly, the man didn’t own a dining room table. I’d venture to guess they made do with a couple of barstools, or maybe a small dinette. I’d never claimed to be a psychiatrist—though I’d written lines for one on the TV show—but I’d have to say the kid longed for something more. She clearly wanted a family environment. The table was just a symbol of all that was missing in her life. In that moment, I prayed she would get the very thing she longed for. In God’s perfect timing, of course.

My brother, who’d always been a little slow on the draw, shrugged. “You think the table’s full now. You should be here when the rest of the family shows up. This room is so full—and so loud—you can hardly hear yourself think.”

“There are more of you?” Brooke looked mesmerized by this news.

“Yes, we have a sister, Larisa,” I explained. “And she’s married to Angelo. They have three kids—Mia, Becca, and their baby boy, Thad.”

“I met them at the shop,” Stephen added.

“Wow.” Brooke grinned. “I like kids.”

“How do you feel about older people?” Niko asked. “Just wait till you meet Aunt Melina. Now
there’s
a family member you won’t soon forget.”

“What’s up with Aunt Melina?” Brooke asked. “Is she crazy or something?”

“Not really crazy,” I was quick to say. “Just has her own personality. Different. But in a loving way.”

“Did I meet her?” Stephen asked.

“She was at the shop the other day,” my father explained. “Melina is my older sister. She’s in her early seventies. She . . . well, she has a few struggles.”

“You couldn’t miss her,” I added. “She’s a little hunched over. Always carries around a coffee mug.”
Filled with booze, but it’s probably too soon to explain that part.

“Ah. I do remember her.” A look of recognition passed over him. “She seemed nice. Very old world.”

“Yes, Melina’s only been in the States for three years,” my father said. “She’s still acclimating. I think this transition from Greece to L.A. has been difficult. Harder than she anticipated, anyway. But I’m prayerful she’ll adapt before long.”

God bless you, Babbas. You’re such a good man, and such a great brother to Melina.

“So you’ve never been to Greece, Stephen?” my father asked.

“Only in my imagination. My nona—my grandmother—came to New Jersey when she was in her thirties. My mom was born here and never saw Greece. Neither did I, except in the stories Nona told. I feel like I’ve been there, though. They were some pretty vivid tales. I could almost see myself there.” A wistful look followed. “Still can. Like I said, it’s going to happen.”

“I know what you mean,” I said. “I’ve been dying to go all my life, but I’m almost afraid it’ll be a letdown after the big buildup. From the stories my parents and other relatives have shared, it’s a heaven-on-earth sort of place.”

“And so many of the smartest people came from Greece,” my father threw in. “Plato. He was a student of Socrates.”

Brooke rolled her eyes.

“And Aristotle,” my mother added. “A scientist and scholar.”

“And what about Archimedes,” my brother added. “He was a mathematician and an engineer.”

“All Greek,” Mama said with a smile. “The smart ones always are.”

Brooke groaned. “Okay, enough already. I get it. All the smart people are Greek.”

“Well, not all, but it certainly doesn’t make you less intelligent to be Greek,” I said, then gave her a wink.

My mother dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “I think it’s kind of a shame that none of our kids have gone back to the place of their ancestors. One day, perhaps.” She put her napkin back in her lap and offered a coy smile. “Right now my daughter needs to focus on getting married and having babies. There will be plenty of time to travel later.”

I stopped just short of smacking myself in the head at that proclamation.
Thanks a lot, Mama. Glad to know you’re laying down all of your plans on my behalf.

Brooke looked my way. “Speaking of kids, I’m dying to meet your sister’s. I love working with children.”

“She’s great with them,” Stephen said. “And with animals too. Obviously.”

Brooke’s eyes lit up. “How old are the kids?”

“Mia is three, Becca is two, and Thad is a baby, as I said. He’s just at that sitting-up stage. Do you like to babysit, Brooke?”

“Oh, she’s not really old enough to do that alone,” Stephen said, looking more than a little alarmed at the prospect.

“I am too.” She scowled at her father, then crossed her arms over her chest and slunk down in the chair. “If someone would give me a chance. It’s not like I’m a baby. I’m almost twelve.”

“I have an idea.” My mother clapped her hands together. “You could come over here and help me with the kids when I’m babysitting. You would be a big help to me, especially if they wanted to go swimming. It’s always such a challenge to handle three of them when there’s just one of me.”

“You have a pool?” Brooke’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Of course,” my father said. “Doesn’t everyone in Southern California have a pool?”

“Not us.” She gave her father another look. “The dumb house my dad picked doesn’t have one.”

“We’ll have a house with a pool someday,” he said. “One thing at a time. We were lucky to find a rental so quickly.” He looked my way and shrugged. “It was a fast move. Once Rex made the offer, I got here as quick as I could. Figured we locate temporary housing, then eventually settle into something else for a long-term stay.”

I was starting to feel bad for the poor guy. He couldn’t catch a break, could he? No dining room table. No pool. What next? Would we find out he had no dishes in the cabinet? No food in the cupboard?

Nah. Nix that last one. Brooke had said he could cook. They probably had a traditional Greek kitchen. Just no table to sit at.

I didn’t have long to ponder these questions because the phone rang. Mama rose to answer it. When she returned, I could see the puzzled look in her eyes.

“That was Milo.”

“Mean-Athena’s Milo?” my brother and I asked in unison.

“Does he want the dog back?” my father asked. “If so, he’s more than welcome to come and get him.”

“No!” Brooke’s voice had a nervous ring to it. “We’re taking him.”

“Okay, okay.” My father gave her a smile. “I can see you’re in love with that measly mutt. I won’t send him back to Greece just yet.”

“Milo didn’t want the dog back, anyway,” Mama said. “Though he did ask about him. He gave me the most surprising news. Apparently he’s applied for citizenship.”

“Wow.” I could hardly believe it.

“He wanted to know if we could spend some time together,” Mama added. “He sounded a little lonely.”

“What did you say?” I asked.

“I said yes, of course. He was in love with my aunt, after all. I could hardly turn him down. In some ways, we’re almost like family.” She paused to take her seat. “Well, we would have been, if she hadn’t broken his heart. I’m still not sure I understand all of that, but I do feel we owe him a visit or two.”

“Wait . . . your aunt?” Stephen asked. “The mean one? The one who gave you the dog?”

“Yes.” Mama fussed with her napkin, placing it in her lap. “It’s so strange. I always thought Milo broke Aunt Athena’s heart, but he told me it was the other way around. Seems strange that a man would pine after a woman like that.” She shrugged. “Maybe I didn’t really know her after all. I guess appearances can be deceiving.”

Across the table, Brooke rolled her eyes. Her gaze met mine and she quickly shifted it to the baklava. “Can I have one? I need to see if it’s as good as my dad’s.”

“Sure, honey.” My mama passed her the tray. “But prepare yourself for the best.”

Brooke nibbled the yummy goodness, then gave me a look of admiration. “Mmm.”

“Traitor.” Stephen scowled at her. “How could you?”

“Sorry, Dad, but she wins. This is amazing.”

She quickly gobbled down the rest, then licked her fingers and reached for another piece. When she finished it, I gave her a high five, and the loveliest smile lit her face.

When Zeus started yapping again, the resulting sparkle in Brooke’s eyes reminded me of a photograph I’d once seen. What was it again? Ah yes. A picture Mama had taken of me in sixth grade, just after winning my first writing award.

Girls always smiled when they were in their element.

And right now . . . well, right now I felt like smiling.

A week after Zeus went to live with his new family, I received an email from Stephen with photos attached. I laughed at the one of Zeus in an apron in their kitchen, but the one that really got to me was one with Brooke and that crazy mongrel rolling around on the living room floor together. The joyous expression on her face left me speechless.

I thought about it all the way to the studio that morning. The same dog that had brought my family such angst had apparently been just the ticket to pull a somber preteen out of her funk. God certainly had an interesting way of turning things around. I had to wonder if Mean-Athena was looking down from heaven at that eleven-year-old girl, remembering my mother at that age. Perhaps this was all part of some great heavenly plan to make up for how my aunt had treated Mama.

I pulled my car into the studio parking lot, grabbed the usual Monday morning bag of leftovers, and made the usual walk to the back door of the
Stars Collide
set, still deep in thought about Zeus and Brooke. As I approached, a man with a camera in his hand hollered out something I couldn’t quite make out.

I turned to face him, perplexed. “I’m sorry. What?”

He leaned against the side of the building and messed with the lens on his camera. “Looking for that comedian. Stephen Cosse. You know, the guy from Vegas?”

“Ah. Not sure if he’s here yet.”

“Dying to get an interview with him,” the guy said. He paused to wipe the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. When he did, I could see the armpit stains on his shirt. Nasty. “If he’s here, would you send him outside? Might be a twenty in it for you if you do.”

“Excuse me?” I paused and shook my head. “You’re a reporter?”

“Well, I, um . . .” His gaze shifted to the bag in my hand. “That smells good. What’ve you got in there?”

I ignored his question. “How did you get on the lot? I don’t see a press badge or anything. Did you check in at the front gate? Not just anyone can come back here, you know. You have to have a pass.” I put on my police cap and went to work, giving him a lecture about how no one could come onto the property without authorization.

“Look, can we skip all of that? That’s not really the point. I just see a story with that Cosse guy and want to write it before anyone else does. C’mon. Give me a break. I told you I’ll make it worth your while.”

Yeah, I’ll go a long way on twenty dollars in a town like L.A.

“What kind of story?”

“You must not get out much.” He chuckled. “Haven’t you been watching the news? They did a piece on him last night on
Entertainment Tonight
. It was all about his HBO special and his sudden rise to stardom. He’s a hot ticket right now, and I want to be the first in line to snap some pictures.”

Entertainment Tonight
? How did I miss that? Why hadn’t he mentioned it?

I finally managed a four-word response. “I had no idea.”

“Well, tell him—”

“I’m not telling him anything. But I’m going to tell you something. If you’re not off this lot in five minutes, I’m calling security. And they won’t be as easy on you as I’ve been. In fact, I have a pretty good suspicion there will be police involved before all is said and done. So if you want to keep your dignity—and your career—intact, you might consider hightailing it out of here.”

“I like an assertive woman.” The reporter winked, and I felt my hand begin to twitch. I wanted to wipe that smirk right off his face. I’d do it too, if only this morning’s Bible verse hadn’t told me to turn the other cheek.

“You don’t have to play along, sister,” the guy said, putting his hands up in mock defeat. “But you’re not going to stop this ball from rolling down the hill. Cosse’s big news right now. You know that, right?”

Actually, I didn’t.

The fellow scratched his head. “Doesn’t make much sense to me. He could have any job he likes. What’s he doing here, writing for a weekly sitcom? He could be making movies or writing for Comedy Central.”

Good question. A thousand other questions rolled through my brain too. Like, what made him such big news right now, and how long would it be before we were swarmed with reporters hoping to get the scoop on Stephen?

I gave the guy my talk-to-the-hand gesture, then made my way inside, pausing at the studio door to fill Rex in on what I’d learned from the reporter. He seemed to take the news in stride.

“Did you know about this?” I asked.

He nodded. “I knew Stephen was being considered for a national comedy award when I hired him. That’s one reason I snagged him when the opportunity arose. Figured once he won—and I’m sure he will—we wouldn’t be able to afford him. I know a good thing when I see it, and I’m getting more savvy about the timing issues. In other words, I hate to brag, but I did a good job this time around. Snagged a really great writer at the perfect time.”

I couldn’t think of a proper response, so I just nodded. So, Rex had known all along. Was I the only one in the dark? I’d never even heard of Stephen Cosse before, and I certainly hadn’t seen his HBO special. I made a mental note to track down a copy somewhere. Might be interesting to watch.

From a distance, Kat waved. “Hey, Athena,” she called out. I thanked God for the distraction.

“Hey, yourself.” I crossed the studio to meet her in the middle of the ever-growing
Stars Collide
set. She pointed at several new set pieces. “What do you think of the new construction? This is all for next week’s episode. I love the direction of the show, by the way. Bringing in elderly stars is going to be just the ticket. And that bit at the retirement center is primo. The kids will love it.”

“You know the goal of all this, right?” I asked her. “The purpose of expanding Jack and Angie’s business is to put pressure on them as a couple. It’s going to wreak havoc on your—er, their—marriage. You okay with that?”

“Well, sure.” She leaned in and whispered, “Half the fun in keeping a relationship alive is learning to work together. Scott and I are figuring that out in real life too. I mean, c’mon. We’re together 24-7. We work together, live together, play together . . .” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Whoa!” I put my hands up. “TMI, girl. But seriously, I figure if my parents can stand working together . . . if you and Scott can stand it . . . then Jack and Angie can stand it too. Besides, you know we’re all about adding conflict to the story. Conflict is . . .”

“Key.” We spoke the word in unison.

“I’ve taught you well. And remember, it doesn’t have to be external conflict.”

“External?” She looked confused.

“You know—man against man, man against nature, and so on. That’s external. A good story has to have a lot of internal conflict too, where the characters battle their own thoughts and fears.”

“Gotcha. We need to create internal and external conflict. That’s what great stories are made of.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, I’m okay with conflict, as long as the ultimate goal is to strengthen Jack and Angie’s relationship.” She quirked a brow. “Hey, speaking of falling for someone you work with, where’s Dr. Hottie?”

“Dr. Hottie?”

“You know, Stephen. The Manuscript Doctor. That’s what Rex has been calling him, you know.”

“Rex has been calling him Dr. Hottie?”

“No, silly.” She laughed. “Guess I’d better set the record straight. That’s what Jana and Nora have been calling him when no one’s listening. Rex has been calling him the Manuscript Doctor.”

The Manuscript Doctor? What was up with that? Did our scripts need doctoring? Ugh.

Lenora entered the set from the hallway, wearing a blue and white striped dress with a broad white belt. Wow. This one had me stumped. The vintage dress had to be really old. Maybe turn of the century, even.

“Guess who I am,” Lenora said. “C’mon, guess.”

I made a couple of attempts and so did Kat, but apparently she wasn’t Ginger Rogers or Betty Grable.

In a warbling voice, she began to sing an unfamiliar tune. When I still didn’t get it, she sighed and then offered an explanation. “This is the dress Judy Garland wore in
Meet Me in St. Louis
during that wonderful scene. You know the one, right, KK?” Her eyes sparkled as she looked at her granddaughter.

“‘The Trolley Song’?” Kat tried.

“No, try again.”

“‘Under the Bamboo Tree’?” I suggested.

“No, silly. It’s the scene where she sang that great song about falling in love with the boy next door.”

“Oh, right!” Kat began to sing, “How can I ignore the boy next door?” eventually drawing the attention of a few of the others nearby.

Lenora gave her a wink. “Yes, that’s right.” She turned to me. “Speaking of the boy next door, where is that handsome writer you share a sofa with, Athena?”

I groaned, not so much at her comment, but the fact that she’d said it loud enough for everyone in the studio to hear. Jason, our cameraman, turned my way, giving me an inquisitive look. Tia, who happened to be standing just a few feet away, also glanced at me, surprise registering in her eyes.

I wanted to say, “Hey, listen, everyone. It’s not true. I don’t have eyes for the boy next door.” But I couldn’t. And I certainly didn’t refer to him as Dr. Hottie. In fact, that whole Manuscript Doctor thing really had me rankled. Maybe it would be better if I just kept moving.

I entered our office, noticing at once the furniture had been moved. So much for our
Dick Van Dyke Show
ambience. Someone had flipped my world up on its ear. Who did I have to blame for this? Must be some sort of prank. Maybe the kids were behind it. Sure. They were always up to tricks. Well, this one went a little too far. I’d call them in here to put everything back where it belonged.

From across the room, I heard a funny grunting sound. My gaze fell on Paul, who lay on his back on the floor, legs propped up against the wall.

“Paul? What happened to the room? It’s as upside down as you are.”

“I have no idea. It was like this when I got here. I thought maybe you did it.”

“No way. That’s so weird.” I took a few steps in his direction, still trying to figure out what he was up to. Or, rather, down to. “You okay down there?”

“Yeah, my back’s been bothering me. The doctor said I should spend some time in this position. Hope you don’t mind. It relieves the pain and takes the pressure off.”

“I see.” Still, it made having a conversation with him a little awkward.

“Not feeling great this morning,” Paul said. “I stayed up all night last night.”

“Oh? Couldn’t sleep?”

“Nah. So I plugged in a DVD of old
Dick Van Dyke
episodes. Did you ever see the one where Rob’s brother comes to stay with them, and he sleepwalks but doesn’t remember?”

“Oh, I loved that one,” I said.

“What if we did something like that? Maybe brought in an older client to stay in Jack and Angie’s house, and he keeps them up all night.”

“Might work.”

“Of course, we’ll have to run this idea by you-know-who.” Paul rolled his eyes. “Looks like he’s the decision maker these days.”

“Speaking of Stephen, have you seen him? Maybe he knows what’s going on with the furniture.”

“Nope. I avoid the guy like the plague.”

“Ah.” I’d suspected as much, but we hadn’t really shared our thoughts privately about the new writer on our team.

Paul swung his legs around, let out another groan, and eased his way up off the floor. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll steer clear of him too, Athena. Don’t get too close to the fire or you might just get burned. I’ve got a bad feeling about this one.”

“Well, I’m concerned, of course. Concerned for both of us, I mean. Especially with today’s news. I don’t know if you heard or not, but he was on TV last night. There’s some sort of award thing stirring. It’s apparently a big deal.”

“Right. I saw the bit on
Entertainment Tonight
.”

“Have you seen the HBO special everyone keeps talking about?”

“Yeah. A few months ago, when it aired.”

“So you knew who Stephen was before they hired him?”

“Sort of. I knew he was a comedian.” Paul paused. “That HBO special was pretty good. Okay, it was really good. Brilliant, even. Look, I’m not saying the guy isn’t funny. Just saying I’m not keen on his role here. And if he wins that award, it’s only going to get more awkward around here. We don’t need that.”

“Right.” I sighed. “Well, Rex and the others are pretty worked up about it. With everyone else singing his praises, don’t you think we should show him a little respect? Maybe win him over with our friendship? He’s part of our team now, you know.”

“I’m showing him as little respect as possible. And we didn’t need another team member, if you ask me. You and Bob and I were a great team.” He muttered something under his breath about Bob, but I couldn’t make it out. “Just feels a little crowded around here these days.”

“Stephen has had some good ideas,” I reminded Paul. “And I’m sure our ratings are going to go up once we take the show in this new direction. I think it’s going to be good.”

“I hope so.” Paul took a couple of steps, then flinched, grabbing his back. “That whole ratings thing is wholly unfair, by the way.”