The Fan Letter (22 page)

Her Western was becoming more popular than her first book had been. At book signings, Leslie was now being asked questions like: When will the shows would on the air, and when will her next book would be out? She was gaining recognition around town, especially so after Tom’s visit.

When the trio arrived at the LaGuardia Airport in New York they were immediately mobbed by fans. The picture that made all the papers this time showed Tom’s arm protectively around a wide-eyed Leslie and a smiling, waving Janice right behind them. The caption read “
Jack and Jane flee for their lives.
“

The two-day stay in New York was hectic. The publishers treated them on the first night to a wonder luncheon at the famous Tavern on the Green restaurant in Central Park. Tom then took the two women on a carriage ride through Central Park and on to Broadway to see a play. Eddie’s wife Linda was thrilled to see Tom unexpectedly and to meet the two friends. Her new play had just opened, so she wouldn’t be home for a while. Hungry for all the news and gossip from home, she arranged for the trio to come backstage after the play.

The next day was spent shopping on Fifth Avenue where Leslie and Janice were able to stop in briefly to say hello to one of their boutique’s main suppliers. They had just three hours in a museum, and then off to another hectic scene at the airport. Leslie didn’t even realize that she was digging her nails into poor Tom’s arm as they made their way to their gate.

With a collective sigh, they sunk into the wide leather seats in first class—another surprise from Tom. “Is it like that everywhere you go?” Janice asked Tom as she accepted a glass of champagne from the flight attendant.

“Like what? Oh, that. No, not always. But, thanks to the newspaper coverage, Leslie is now getting better known. I guess the combination with me in the mix will make a difference now,” as he rubbed his sore arm.

“Do you ever get used to it?” Leslie wondered out loud.

“You do look a little dazed,” he commented as he took her hand. “It helps to get used to the attention. But, for now, all you have to do is relax. We have five hours until we get back to California.”

“And go through it all over again,” Leslie murmured as they titled their seats back and got comfortable.

When the plane had leveled off and Janice had fallen asleep—as she did on every flight they had ever taken—Tom moved the armrest between his and Leslie’s seat up out of the way. Gently tugging on her, he had her lean against him so they could talk quietly as they munched on the meat and cheese platter they were served.

“Do you think you’ll be ready next month to face Avery and Nickles with your script?”

“If you’re there, I will be. I hope they like what we’ve done,” she sighed.

“What
you
have done,” he corrected. “It’s all your work, all the way. Don’t forget that. And don’t let them change anything you feel strongly about, either,” he counseled. “It’s a good storyline the way it is.”

“Thanks.”

“They’ll also have you give your choice on the actress to portray Jane. I know they have already done the first interviews and will have you there for the selection.”

Leslie groaned at this.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “That was one of your stipulations, unusual as it was,” Tom reminded her with a private smile. He could never figure out how she got Avery to agree to that.

“I know. It’s just…I don’t know,” she broke off, looking away.

He couldn’t read the expression on her face. “What? Talk to me, Les,” he encouraged.

He could see her trying to figure a way not to tell him what was really bothering her. Finally, though, she took a deep breath and forged ahead. “I just can’t imagine someone else playing Jane opposite you. I’m…I mean, she’s my.… Oh, forget it. I’m being silly,” Leslie muttered, turning red.

“Oh, I get it!” he brightened up. “You don’t want somebody else doing the love scenes with me! Is that it?”

Leslie pulled away to her own seat. “No! Well, I mean…. Oh, stop.”

Tom chuckled at her flustered denial. “Well, I’m happy to see I am making some progress with your after all. You’re jealous!” he stated, obviously happy at the revelation.

Leslie’s embarrassment faded as she got a little mad. “Oh, I shouldn’t have said anything to you! You’ll probably blab to Eddie and I’ll never live this down!”

“No, I won’t tell Eddie,” he assured her as he pulled her back to his shoulder. “Besides, you know how detached we are when we’re at work. There are lines to remember, marks to hit, cameras to worry about, Nickles yelling at us to put more passion into it. We don’t consider what we’re actually doing. Unless, of course, she is really pretty and then we flub the shot on purpose so we can retake the love scenes!”

He felt her tense up and put an arm around her to keep her from pulling away again. “I’m kidding! You know I’ll be thinking of you when I’m kissing someone else.”

“Hmph. That really helps,” she muttered. “Remember, I can always change the script,” she warned. “The Loner could become a dirty, smelly hermit living by himself in a cave.”

Tom laughed at that. “Touché! Sheesh, you writers are such an over-sensitive bunch, I’ll tell you. Maybe this will help your bruised feelings.” He reached inside his coat’s inner pocket and pulled out a light blue box with a very familiar logo on it.

Leslie’s eyes got wide as she looked up at him, her heart suddenly pounding. “When did you get that?” she stalled.

“Well, you weren’t with me the whole time, you remember. I have my ways. Open it,” he prompted, eager to see her reaction.

Leslie’s hand slightly shook as she sat up to open the elegant box. Inside was a necklace. The brilliant diamonds were alternating baguettes and marquis in a full heart design. A delicate gold chain dropped behind the back of the display.

“Oh, Tom,” she whispered, stunned. “It’s beautiful! But…I can’t….”

“Yes, you can,” he interrupted, his eyes shining, and looking very happy. “Now, maybe, you’ll quit your silly protests. Put it on.”

Leslie’s fingers wouldn’t cooperate, so Tom had to fasten the clasp. “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her eyes filling.

“How about thanks?” he kidded as he first kissed her cold hands and then moved to her warm lips.

L
eslie took another week off from the boutique and frantically typed the last of her script. Monday she was supposed to fly to Los Angeles and meet with the studio again.

A persistent knock on her door brought a disgusted groan. She flung the door open to find Wayne and Janice standing on her stoop. “Want to go to dinner with us?” Janice offered, overlooking the less-than-welcoming expression on her friend’s face.

“Dinner?” Leslie repeated incredulously. “It’s only….” She looked back at her cuckoo clock. “Oh. How did it get to be six o’clock? I thought it was only around three.”

Janice nodded. “That’s what we figured. You’re getting a little thin, Les. We thought you’d like some food.”

“Sure, Mom,” she retorted with a grin as she noticed Janice’s arm was through Wayne’s. “I’ve never had a deadline before. I guess I will be all right,” as she threw a longing look at her dinette table that held her typewriter. “Let me get my coat.”

“Les, you don’t need a coat,” Wayne told her. “It’s May.”

Leslie looked out her window at the flowering trees. “So it is. What happened to March?”

“You know, you’ve been a real barrel of fun, Leslie!” Wayne kidded as his arm moved to Janice’s shoulder.

“I guess I’ve missed more than just the seasonal changes,” Leslie observed dryly as she followed them down the stairs.

For the first time Leslie sat in the back seat of Wayne’s car and it felt strange for her. She had been so wrapped up with her work that she had neglected her friends and now it appears she had lost an admirer. While she was happy for Janice, she still felt sorry for herself. Even as she fingered the diamond heart hanging from her neck, she still didn’t consider Tom as a suitor or her boyfriend. She thought of him often, though, and they talked on the phone weekly, but he was so far away. Wayne had always been just one floor down. But now, as she thought back, she hadn’t seen him much in three or four months. Apparently Janice had.

“You’re sure quiet,” Janice called back to her as they drove downtown.

“Hmm? Oh, I was just thinking.”

“About Tom or Phillip?” was Wayne’s comment, still tinged with a slightly bitter edge.

“Oh, among others,” she relied vaguely.

As they pulled into a parking lot, Leslie looked confused. “What’s this place?”

They both turned to face her, amazed. “You’re kidding, right? It’s been open for six months. It’s the hottest spot in town. We come here all the time.”

Leslie shrugged and smiled. “Oh. Maybe I should have changed clothes.”

“Naw. It doesn’t matter here. Come on. We have reservations. If we’re late we lose them.”

A
s Wayne and Janice said good night to Leslie at the bottom of the stairs, she walked up alone. All she could hear inside Wayne’s apartment was the muffled sounds coming from his stereo. They had told her they figured she would want to get some more work done tonight and hadn’t invited her in. At the sound of their laughter, she wondered what was so funny. Leslie always figured she would be included in whatever was going on and most of the gatherings used to be at her place. Now her parents called a week in advance to ask her over for dinner. She hadn’t been shopping with her mom in ages. Someone had mentioned that Renee had had a baby. Was it a boy or a girl? She couldn’t even remember. Mona was talking about hiring someone else part time to help out as Janice had been given some of Leslie’s responsibilities. Mrs. Penney had been asking for Janice now. The high school students were also given to Janice.
Okay, those last two weren’t so bad
, she grimly smiled to herself. All the students ever asked her about now was Tom Young and her books. The teachers had felt it was better for the students if someone else handled the interviews….

Leslie noticed the laughter had stopped downstairs. All she could hear now was soft muted music.

She looked at her cuckoo clock to see it was only nine-thirty. Picking up the phone, she dialed a familiar number.

“Hello, Mom? Hi, it’s…. No, nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to say hello. What’s new?…. Yeah, I know. It’s been a while. How’s Dad?…. He was? When? Was it serious? Why didn’t you tell me?…. I’m not that busy…. How long will his foot be in a cast? Do you need anything?…. Well, that’s good…. No, Wayne won’t be going to Los Angeles with me. He and Janice seem to be dating…. No, I don’t know when that happened…. Well, maybe I was too busy. They seem to be happy together. We went out to dinner tonight…. I don’t know. Some new place…. Yeah, that’s the one…. Yes, Tom will probably meet me at the airport. He did last time. If not, I’ll get a cab…. No, I’ll be all right. It sounds like I’ll have to get used to it for a few months or so…. Yes, it is exciting. The first episode airs in four or five months…. Well, you’d better watch it!…. I’d better let you go. I just wanted to see how you were…. Okay, you, too. Bye.”

Leslie hung up the phone. Now all she could hear was the ticking of her clock. With an inaudible sigh, she sat down at her kitchen table and turned on her electric typewriter.

T
om Young met Leslie at the airport early Monday morning. She was dressed a soft pink suit that nicely complimented her complexion. The diamond necklace dangled in front of the embroidered white silk blouse she had chosen. In her white-knuckled grip was a new leather briefcase that Tom knew held her script. As she returned his embrace he realized she was shaking.

He stepped back surprised. “I didn’t think you’d be so nervous. I thought this would be old hat to you by now. Tell me,” he kidded, halfway serious, “is it because of me or Avery?”

Taking off like a racehorse at the starting gate, Leslie headed for the baggage claim area. “Of course it’s Mr. Avery. This is it, Tom,” she exclaimed with nervous energy when he caught up, trying to gesture with the arm he had slipped through his. “I feel like its do or die. What if they don’t like my script? What if I have to rewrite it again, or they decide I can’t do it and give it to their usual writers? I…I don’t think I can do another rewrite,” she groaned.

Tom glanced at her with a worried look on his face. “I’ve never seen you this upset before. Did you sleep at all last night?”

Leslie just gave him a noncommittal shrug.

“Hmph, I thought so,” he muttered. “You should have taken me up on my offer. You could have come yesterday and stayed with me. You would have been more relaxed by now.”

“Well, it’s too late now. I really thought I was fine,” she admitted, “but I just kept thinking about this meeting and getting myself more and more worked up. By the time I finally fell asleep, I had to get right back up and catch this stupid commuter flight.” To try and calm herself down, she changed the subject slightly. “What did you think of the pages I faxed to you? Were they all right?”

Tom nodded. “They were excellent. That’s why I don’t understand your nerves now. You did a great job, Les. I’m proud of you,” he told her softly.

She looked up at the change in his tone and smiled for the first time that morning. “You’re such an ego-booster, Tom. Thank you,” she said sincerely, and belatedly added, “And thanks for coming to get me. I do appreciate it.”

He patted her arm as the luggage started crashing down the chute. “Which is yours?”

Leslie pointed out one large paisley suitcase. “You sure have a lousy memory. That’s what I took to New York.”

“That was months ago,” he muttered as he excused himself to the other people waiting and grabbed for the bag.

“And that garment bag and the little one there,” she pointed as he gave her a frown. “What? You told me to plan on a week, maybe two,” she smiled as she picked up the garment bag.

“Weeks, not months,” muttered Tom as he hoisted the heavy bags, wondering why he hadn’t thought to hire one of those luggage carts.

“And you wanted me to move down here,” she kidded as she watched him balance the load.

“That’s different,” he snorted. “You said no, if I remember correctly. But,” he added, “the offer still stands.”

A
fter cramming all her luggage into the trunk of his classic 1969 Mercedes 280SL, Tom drove directly to the studio as their meeting began mid-morning. Leslie had become completely quiet by the time they reached the offices. As Tom escorted her through the maze of corridors to the private elevator, she had a death grip on his arm. It tightened in the quick ride to the top floor. But, inexplicably, as soon as the doors opened, she removed her arm from his, lifted her chin, and strode out of the elevator first.

Mr. Avery and Mr. Nickles were talking together by the door to Ron’s offices and they smiled pleasantly as she stepped out.

“Ah, Miss Nelson. Good to see you again. I was told you were on the way up,” Mr. Avery said as he offered his hand.

“Please, call me Leslie,” she replied mildly as she accepted his hand and then greeted the director. “Mr. Nickles. Hello.”

Tom looked on, silently amazed. She was cool, almost aloof, as if she had been doing this all her life. He chuckled to himself. He was there to give her moral support. That was funny!

“I hope you had a good flight,” Richard Avery chatted as he led them all into his office.

“Oh, yes. It was a fine. A little early, but uneventful,” was the steady comment as she opened her briefcase and removed the script. “I believe this is what you’ve been awaiting. I trust you saw my sample pages and they were satisfactory.”

Richard gave her a quick look-over as he took the proffered papers. Shooting a glance at Tom, the actor was busy with something under his nails, seemingly unconcerned. The studio head was secretly impressed by her composure. She betrayed no fears, no nerves or doubts. She met his look with a slight tilt of her head as if to reinforce whatever stand she was going to take and dare him to question it.

“Uh-huh. They were well done. If the rest of your script is the same, there won’t be any delays in our normal schedule.”

“You see, Miss…er, Leslie,” Ron explained, “usually, with their first scripts, new writers tend to put too much unnecessary, oh, dialogue, action, everything, into their work. We find we must go through and trim a lot to make it fit the one or two hour time slot.”

Leslie had listened politely. “Yes, Mr. Nickles, I was aware of that problem. That’s why I was careful to time the dialogue and action as I felt it should be done. Allowing for the commercials and the credits, I believe I’m within a minute or two. I also wasn’t sure how the new actress’s name or mine would appear and couldn’t judge it correctly. So, there’s a little leeway,” she explained as she settled back in her chair and calmly folded her hands in her lap.

Tom rubbed a hand across his face to hide a grin that he couldn’t repress. Richard and Ron were obviously taken aback. They were used to groveling and total agreement from writers who weren’t on the air yet. Leslie was looking around the room as if she was deciding on how to rearrange the pictures.

Mr. Avery called for his secretary and had her run two copies of the script. While Margaret was gone, Leslie was handed twelve photos.

“Let’s not waste time, Leslie,” Richard said as an explanation. “These are some of the actresses who impressed us at the auditions. They read directly from your book, if you are interested. We have our own favorites, of course, whom we would choose. But we respect your desire to have your say—unorthodox as that may be,” he couldn’t help but add as an aside.

Leslie didn’t respond as she looked at the pictures, mentally willing her hands not to shake. After the first four photos she shook her head, displeased. “They’re too beautiful. That’s not Jane. The book cover should have given some clue as to her less-than-glamorous appearance.”

Mr. Avery folded his arms and frowned. She had already passed over his first choice. Ron was not silent. His choice was likewise passed. “Leslie, we do realize the face on the cover of your book is your own. We doubt, however, that you will find an exact clone of yourself. Unless you intend to play the part yourself, I suggest you be less critical,” was his pointed remark. Tom well knew that tone of voice and was about to step in and say something to warn Leslie.

But she didn’t give him that chance. She looked up slowly from the next headshot and met Ron’s eyes. Her face slightly pink, she waited for a few seconds to tick by before she responded in a measured voice, “The thought did cross my mind, Mr. Nickles. But,” she mildly emphasized the word, “regrettably I haven’t the training. You must likewise respect the reason behind my request to help choose the right actress. I made Jane plain on purpose. The airways and your show are filled with beautiful faces of both men and women. Cindy Sanders is one of the leading beauties. There aren’t enough plain ones in leading roles for those of us in the world who do realize we aren’t beautiful or ever will be. We can relate better when we see one of our own. Let the heroine be less than perfect. The vast majority of the world is just that way—less than perfect. I believe you will find tremendous support from your viewers. I know I’ve heard from both men and women who have read the book who were so glad Jane was just like them,” she finished, almost, but not quite, glaring at the two powerful men before her.

The men were silent after her speech. Tom grinned smugly to himself. At a look and nod from Richard, Ron silently took the photos from Leslie’s hands and gave her another batch from inside the folder at his elbow. A satisfied look came across her face as she went through them. “This is more like it,” she muttered to herself, pleased.

She picked out the three who she thought most closely resembled herself and the ideal she wanted to convey and handed those to Mr. Avery.

He spread them out before him and, with Ron looking over his shoulder, referred to their audition notations. Richard pointed to the face on the left and Ron nodded. When Margaret came back in with the copies of the script, the picture was handed to her. That meeting would be at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.

Richard then gave Leslie back her script as Ron took one of the new copies. She handed hers to Tom, who had been ignored throughout the meeting so far, and took another out of her case. At the men’s look, she explained, “This is the original. I always keep it myself.”

Richard cleared his throat. “Uh-huh. Fine. What we’ll do now is read the script and also time it ourselves. We usually make notations in red as we go and discuss it when we’re through. Any problem with that, Leslie?” he queried, expecting some kind of argument from her.

She smiled placidly. “Whatever you say, Mr. Avery.”

Leslie was getting sleepy by the end of the two and a half hours it took for the three men to read, time, and mark up her script.

Mr. Avery began the discussion. “All right. It is pretty good.” He glanced at Leslie, but she was mildly watching him, no outward show of pleasure at his praise. “If you will turn to page fifty, we will begin there. I’m not comfortable with Andrew’s reaction to Jane. It’s not in line with his character.”

Leslie spoke up. “Don’t you feel it was sufficiently explained by the closing act?”

“Well, yes, but the viewers won’t understand at this point why….”

“They aren’t supposed to,” Leslie interrupted. “That’s one of the wait-and-see elements I added on purpose. It’s supposed to make them stick around to the end and see the hows and the whys.”

“Let’s skip this for now,” Ron injected. “I don’t like Jane’s lines on page one hundred twenty. I don’t feel they’re true.”

“How are you reading them?” Leslie asked as she looked over the scene.

Ron glared at her. “How am I reading them” he echoed sharply.

Leslie looked up as if he didn’t understand what she had meant. “I mean, what are you emphasizing? What….”

“I know what the term means, Miss Nelson!” he broke in, turning red as he tried to control his temper. Mr. Avery gave him a little shake of his head. “I believe I interpreted them correctly,” he said finally. “But Jane shouldn’t be angry here.”

“She isn’t angry,” Leslie explained out. “She’s confused, perplexed.”

“You should have indicated that,” Ron pointed out.

Leslie glanced momentarily at Tom. “I was told not to.”

Tom gave a self-conscious grin, spread his hands apart, and shrugged.

So it went for four hours. Avery’s and Nickle’s protestations were met with firm explanations and demonstrations using Tom and herself in the roles. The changes were minor and were made on all four of the scripts.

There was one last point Richard brought out. “Leslie, we had a little problem with some of the costumes you gave Jane. You were quite detailed in your books and included them in the script. Fans will want to see the same clothes exactly as the books described them.”

“Would you like to see three of the outfits?” Her question surprised them all. “I brought them with me.”

Tom left and came back with the garment bag. Leslie brought out the dresses she had detailed for a picnic of the beach, a formal dance, and the wedding of Jack and Jane. “They’re mine,” she explained, trying not to think of the wedding dress and its previous use. “You may copy them, but I keep these.”

Mr. Avery smiled. “Our costume department will certainly thank you. It will save a lot of time not having to draw up those designs,” and then he added in an undertone to Ron, “and not have to run them past her for continual corrections….”

A tired Leslie looked from Avery to Nickles as if to ask what was next.

Mr. Avery, likewise relieved, stood to indicate the meeting was over. “Tomorrow, Leslie, we will meet with all the actors and have our first run-through with the script and get ideas and their feedback. As a courtesy, you will be there as an invited observer, not a participant,” he pointed out. “We will begin at nine and will see you then. Tom, could I see you for a minute before you leave?” It was not a request. “And close the door.”

Leslie waited patiently by the elevator with her briefcase and empty garment bag in hand. It was twenty minutes before Tom came out of the office and drove her to his house on the beach.

T
om was still chuckling to himself by the time they reached his beach house. Leslie had become quiet the moment they sat in the car. Her nerves were played out, the act was over, and she was exhausted.

“Boy, you sure buffaloed Avery!” Tom exclaimed as he pulled into his garage. “Are you sure you’re not an actress? Ha!…. No, let me get that. You’re tired, I can see that. He told me to talk to you, by the way,” as he pulled her remaining bags out of the trunk. “He said it was his show, not yours. And that Ron was the director, not you. He said for you to get your own studio if you’re not going to let him run his.” Tom continued laughing, looking back when he got no response. Leslie had sunk down onto the first piece of furniture she had come across. “Are you all right, Les?” he asked, putting the bags down as he went over to her. Sitting next to her on the sofa, he put an arm around her.

She was slightly shaking as if a chill had hit. She leaned her head onto his shoulder and confessed, “That has got to be the hardest thing I have ever done. It was worse than when I first came to sign the contract.”

Tom chuckled in spite of her condition. “Ol’ Avery still hasn’t gotten over that meeting either! I’ll tell you this—blustering aside, he really respects you. He’d rather have you cower like everyone else,” Tom admitted, “but he still admires your spunk as he called it.”