Little Pink Slips (43 page)

"You nailed that one!" said Bebe, who made a gagging sound and

motion. "I'm sure you can relate."

Matt ignored the comment and sound effect. "So tell our audi

ence—what's up?"

"I'm starting a business," Bebe said. "The Slut Hut."

"Excuse me?" he asked.

   "Got ya, Matt," Bebe said. "Ha. For real? My friend Barbra wants me for the lead in
Yentl, w
hich she's bringing to Broadway. Plus my new blog."

"Boy, everyone's a blogger. What's yours called?"

"Bebe's Bull—" Bebe's face disappeared as the censors bit off the

end of the name. Magnolia had seen enough. She returned the call to Natalie, who

was in a meeting, so she dived into her newspapers. The trial story was too new for the morning editions, but in the
Post
there was Jock's face, his mouth agape. The article reported that Jock's wife was leaving

him. Pippi wanted $57,000 a month for alimony and child support,

which included $14,000 for Little Jock's rented horse, even if it meant

that Big Jock had to abandon his $10,000-a-month pied-à-terre.

The phone rang. "So, Cookie," Natalie trilled. "What do you think?"

"I'm loving it!" Magnolia admitted. "Both sides got what they

deserve. Oops, rewind," Magnolia said. "How insensitive of me." She

realized Scary's ignominious loss would be bad business for a com

pany where Natalie continued to work.

"Good God, Magnolia," Natalie said. "Don't apologize. Everybody

here thinks Jock's the most arrogant scum-bucket who ever lived.

There's a special circle in corporate hell for a CEO who squanders

millions on an embarrassing trial, tops it off with sexual harassment

problems and his puss splashed over the papers for his divorce, and

tries to drag his peers down with him."

"So you think the Scary boys will have him eat dirt for a while?"

The very thought made her want to stand up and sing, "I'm Gonna

Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair."

"Are you kidding?" Natalie said. " 'Eat dirt?' He's over."

"Define 'over.' "

"Fired, finished, decapitated. If the Scary boys could waste him,

they would."

"Really?" Sweet, she thought. "What's going to happen now?"

"Well . . ." Natalie abandoned all dignity. It was fair to say she

squealed. "You can congratulate me, Natalie Simon, the newly

appointed CEO of Scarborough Magazines!"

Magnolia screamed.

"Thanks—I'll take that as mazel tov. And if you can clear your

busy schedule, Miss Gold, Chairman Simon would like to take you to

lunch. See you Friday at Michael's."

C h a p t e r 4 3

Passion in Flip-flops

An enormous bouquet
of orange gerbera daisies arrived as Magnolia left to meet Abbey at a downtown theater. "To my Daisy

Silver," Cameron's note said. "You finally made the right decision.

Looking forward, C."

Throughout the movie, Magnolia deliberated on those daisies,

which now filled her three tallest vases and every corner of her brain.

"Keanu Reeves's kiss—did you have the feeling it was the begin

ning of the end or the end of the beginning?" Abbey had to repeat the

question twice before Magnolia answered.

"Hmmm . . ." Magnolia answered, as they walked into Lil'

Frankie's. "Not sure."

"Did that plot work for you?"

Magnolia could barely remember it. "Uh, yeah," she said.

"Fascinating," Abbey said, picking up a menu. "Okay, what kind of

pizza should we order?"

"Whatever," Magnolia said. "You know what I like."

Abbey thwacked her with a stare. "Magnolia, you're phoning in

this whole evening. Hardly said a word in the cab. Forgot to pick up

our Raisinettes. What's up?"

"I'm . . . preoccupied." "Your 'preoccupied' is not an orgy of fun, my friend," Abbey said.

"Is it that you think the verdict wasn't fair?"

Magnolia leaned her head on her arm. "Judge Tannenbaum's ver

dict was eminently fair," she said, "but it's put me in a corner, that's

all."

"You're going to have to connect the dots for me," Abbey said. "I

know I've been out of the country for a few weeks, but. . . ."

"Okay," Magnolia said, and launched into a short, sweet synopsis of

where she and Cam stood or didn't stand, that she was looking for

ward to visiting him and he apparently felt the same way, but how

Natalie had thrown a monkey wrench into her plan by scheduling a

command performance for Friday.

"Now that's a story line," Abbey said, looking appropriately flab

bergasted. "You and Cam!" She squeezed Magnolia's hand. "I was

wondering when you'd notice you're perfect for each other. It seemed

quite apparent to me when he couldn't stop talking about you." She

was grinning. "So, what's the big deal?" The pizza arrived and Abbey

bit into a hot, cheesy slice. "You just reschedule Natalie."

"People don't 'reschedule' Natalie," Magnolia said. "Certainly not

now that she's CEO. You're not getting how important this might be.

She's invited me to Michael's. In practically her first public act. It's

living theater."

"I don't know," Abbey said. "She might just want to gloat before an

adoring audience. Put her off. By the way, what have you told

Cameron?"

Magnolia sucked in a big gulp of air. "Nothing," she admitted.

"There, I said it. I'm dodging. He called at ten, and twice later, and I

didn't pick up."

"Magnolia, what's gotten into you? You're being a child—and

cruel," Abbey said none of this kindly or quietly.

"Thank you," Magnolia hissed. "I really needed to hear that and so

did the people at the next table." The heavily pierced, tattooed recent

college graduates were looking at Magnolia as if she were wearing Mom jeans and sensible shoes. She glanced at her Pumas. She
was
wearing sensible shoes.

"If you don't need my advice, then just pull the petals off your

daisies to decide."

"I also don't need your sarcasm."

"But the answer is obvious." Abbey sat forward until her face was

less than a foot away from Magnolia's. "Follow your heart." She did

that thing where she zipped her lips in a tight line and crossed her

arms, offering Magnolia an excellent view of the chunky diamonds

blinking from her wedding band.

"Abbey, you met Daniel, bells chimed, and now you're married

with so many residences you need a new address book. You own vine

yards! Your heart knew what it wanted. Mine needs a fucking GPS! I

can't trust it. It led me to Harry, to Tyler." She wiped away tears with

her sleeve. "It led me to Wally!"

Abbey laughed. "Who may have been a keeper and you never

noticed."

"Precisely. Why should I let myself believe a flirtation with

Cameron is passion in a flannel shirt? Actually, now he probably wears

Hawaiian shirts and flip-flops. My instincts suck. I can't run away.

What I need is a job—a plan—and then maybe I'll start thinking

straight."

"Didn't Mark Twain say, 'Life is what happens to you when you're

busy making other plans,' " Abbey asked.

"No, but John Lennon did."

"Whatever. 'Love is the flower you've got to let grow,' " Abbey sang.

" 'The more I see the less I know,' " Magnolia sang back.

"All I am saying is give Cam a chance," Abbey said. "You owe him.

At least explain." They finished their dinner, split the bill, and began

a painfully quiet ride uptown. Halfway there, Magnolia's phone rang.

"Hello, dear," Felicity said. "Bebe would love you to join us for an

impromptu fete. Her friend Mario is pulling out all the stops here at

Babbo. We have food for fifty. Quite a do." In the background, Magno

lia could hear Bebe's laugh maxxed out to top volume.

Magnolia put her hand over her phone and whispered to Abbey,

"Apparently, Bebe's gotten over my testimony. Want to go to her cele bration party? You've got to admit that woman does know how to

move on."

"Pass," Abbey said without a moment's hesitation.

"Felicity, I just stuffed myself. But have a great time. And thanks

for asking."

"You sure? You'd especially like the piñata," she said. "It's Jock's

likeness."

"Tell Bebe to give it a good whack on my behalf," Magnolia said.

Bebe carrying on as if she'd won Wimbledon? It made no sense, but

not much did today.

The taxi dropped off Abbey. Magnolia got out a few blocks later

and gave Biggie and Lola an extra long walk before she had the nerve

to see if Cam had called again. He had. She walked to her computer,

started to write, but decided only a candy-assed coward would e-mail.

He answered on the first ring.

"Cameron?"

"Mags." He said her name with a glint of joy and intimacy she could

hear and feel three thousand miles away. "I was beginning to worry."

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to call back," she said. "I got totally

in the zone with my proposal—you know how that happens—then

suddenly it was six-thirty and I'd promised to meet Abbey and then I

forgot my phone." She was a terrible liar, spilling out her explanation

in a breathless gasp.

"Un-huh," he said.

"I love the flowers," she said. "Thank you." Why hadn't she gushed

her gratitude immediately?

   "They're thinking of calling the movie
Daisy Chain.
I hate it."

   "Movie? What movie?"

"The movie being made from my book. My agent did the deal. The

book's optioned, and the studio wants me to collaborate here on the

screenplay."

"Cameron," she shrieked. "That's incredible. This is huge. Huge!

Congratulations. I am so impressed. You, a Hollywood screenwriter.

You're going to win an Oscar." "Enough," he said. He sounded neither happy nor excited. In fact,

at the other end of the phone she thought she heard him sigh, but the

sound might have come from her. "You've decided not to visit, haven't

you?"

"Everything's taken a turn for the complicated," she said softly.

"Jock was fired."

"Are there spontaneous outbursts of jubilation throughout the

city?"

"There's one here in this apartment."

"The people who despise that guy could fill Roseland."

"Natalie's getting his job."

   "Hmmm . . . Interesting. I can see that," he said. "The woman turned
Dazzle
into an ATM."

   "She wants to have lunch Friday."

"You have to take the meeting."

Magnolia laughed. "Talking like an L.A. boy. You like it there?"

"I didn't think I would," he said. "But writers run around in T

shirts and cutoffs and work at the Coffee Bean. It has its charms." As

if he'd selected a different font, his tone had downshifted to friend

ship. Magnolia wanted to get back what had already slipped away.

"I'm disappointed, you know," she said. "About this weekend."

"Me, too," he said. The dead air hung between them.

"Tell me what I'll miss."

"Dinner on Friday at this tapas place. Saturday I thought you might

go house-hunting with me. Sunday morning, the Rose Bowl swap

meet, and then a drive to Malibu or those Santa Barbara wineries."

"From
Sideways
?"

"From
Sideways.
"

"Roll back to house-hunting. Does this mean you're going to be

there permanently?"

"No, but at least six months . . . It would be a rental—near the

beach or in one of those coyote-filled canyons."

Cameron of California was beginning to come into focus and he

felt unknown and far, far away. There wasn't much to say after that.

Except good night. She called her dogs. "You guys—bedtime. It's an order." Biggie

and Lola leaped up and settled in for a cozy snooze. The same could

not be said for Magnolia. She pictured Cam going from project to

project as Hollywood's hot, new script doctor. Two years from now,

he'd be picking up an Oscar for best screenplay—looking cute in a

tuxedo. He'd accept with a wry comment, which would make most

people scratch their heads, but she would get it. She'd call to congrat

ulate him. His assistant would take a message. "We'll return," the

assistant would lie.

When the phone rang at two A.M., Magnolia welcomed the inter

ruption.

"The thing I want to know is," he said, "after the screwing you've

gotten in magazines and the rodeo down at the courthouse, why

would you ever want to try to stay in that business and hang around

just to get beat up again? What's that thing you always said to me—

it's okay to make a mistake but just don't keep making the same

mistake?"

Magnolia waited to see if there was more to the tirade. She won

dered if he'd been drinking.

"I'm asking as a friend," he added. He sounded sober, too sober.

"Cam, you clearly have all sorts of talents," she said. Even some

she only suspected, and would like to experience—in every way—

firsthand. "But working in magazines is what I do. I'm a monkey with

one trick."

"You don't know that," he said. "You're just terrified. I'll only say

this once. Forget about being an editor. Move in with me. We'll dis

cover L.A. together. Fresh start. You got to Manhattan from Fargo.

How hard could this town be?"

"You think the movie business is any better than magazines?" Her

voice wasn't sleepy anymore. "Film companies give themselves

names like Pariah and nobody blinks. L.A. is where people eat their

young. And speaking of young, by Hollywood standards, I'm not."

"Magnolia, none of that matters. Goddammit, you are one stub

born woman." He paused. "Is this why I love you or do I love you in

spite of this?"