Hello, Hollywood!

  “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.”

&
nbsp; “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.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If a show doesn’t do well, the actors don’t get blamed. The producers don’t get blamed. You know who gets blamed.” He walked toward the Super-Gyros bag and stuck his hand inside, coming out with a tray of cookies.

  “Yeah.” I couldn’t help but sigh.

  “The writers,” we said in unison.

  “This is the most unstable business in the world,” Paul said. “Should’ve followed my dad’s advice and become a cop. I’d definitely have better job security if I worked in law enforcement. At least we know there are always going to be criminals.”

  “Well, that’s comforting.”

  Thinking about criminals made me think of Mean-Athena, for whatever reason. Thinking of my aunt caused my thoughts to shift to Milo. Why had he come to the States, really? To carry out my aunt’s wishes, sure, but there seemed to be something more. He seemed lonely. In need of friends.

  Thinking of Milo reminded me of Zeus, and thinking of Zeus reminded me of the lovely smile on Brooke’s face. Of course, thinking about Brooke reminded me of Stephen, and thinking of Stephen made me wonder where he was. When he saw the mess someone had made of this office, he would probably flip. It would take us all morning to get things back in place. Ooo, those kids! Just wait till I told Rex what they’d done this time!

  I went to sit on the divan, almost forgetting it had been moved. “You really have no idea why the furniture is off-kilter?” I asked again.

  “Nope.”

  I grabbed a pencil and began to roll it around in my hand. “It’s just so strange.”

  A noise from outside the door interrupted us. Sounded like a herd of buffalo heading out to pasture. Paul made the mistake of opening the door. Sure enough, buffalo—er, children—sped by, followed by their teacher.

  “Sorry about that,” she called out. “We just finished our classes for the morning, and the kids are ready for recess.”

  Paul nodded and closed the door. “Can’t imagine how they do recess in a television studio.”

  “I think you just witnessed it. They run laps in the halls. And I have a sneaking suspicion . . .”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, they’re on the run from us because we’re on to them about the furniture.”

  “Likely.” He stretched and winced once more.

  We sat in silence for a moment, and I thought about this week’s episode. A couple of ideas flitted through my brain, but neither of them were keepers.

  After a couple of minutes, Paul’s voice rang out. “You’re doing that thing again,” he said.

  “Thing?” I looked up. “What thing?”

  “Where you tap your pencil on the edge of the sofa.”

  “Oh, I tap my pencil?” I glanced at it. “I had no idea.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  Should I remind him that he had a few annoying habits too? For instance, he slurped his coffee. And that eating with no utensils thing was getting old. Oh, and then there was the falling asleep and snoring when he should be working thing. That one really took the cake.

  Calm down, Athena. You’re worked up about other things, not Paul.

  Minutes later, one of the primary things I’d been worked up about walked into the room. Stephen. I wanted to ask him all sorts of questions about his award—and about that reporter—but all of my preconceived ideas faded as soon as I saw him in that beautiful blue shirt. Wowza. He looked like he’d come straight from a photo shoot. Maybe he had. Maybe he’d be on the cover of People next month. My imagination went into overdrive as I envisioned him standing in front of cameras, prepping for a photo shoot.

  Goodness. Could I possibly be any more fickle? Up one minute and down the next. I might as well apply to be an elevator operator. Half the time I had my head in the clouds.

  Focus, Athena. Focus. He’s looking at you.

  Stephen seemed frazzled. I’d never seen him like this, and it piqued my curiosity. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Sorry I’m late.” He tossed his laptop bag on the chair and shook his head. “Some reporter in the parking lot stopped me and drilled me full of questions. I feel like the O.K. Corral after the shootout. I’m bled out.” He offered a weak smile. “But at least I’m still standing. He didn’t take me down.”

  “I can’t believe that guy was still here. I told him to take a hike. How did he get onto the lot, anyway?”

  “Oh, I’m sure he paid off someone at the gate. I used to get a lot of those guys in Vegas.”

  “So, I hear something is stirring. What’s going on?”

  “It’s no big deal, really.” Stephen paused, his shoulders sagging a bit. “I was just nominated for an award. I guess the reporters want to k
now about it, is all.”

  “Right. I heard something about that. But what kind of award? Fill us in.”

  “The Comedy Awards.” He shrugged. “My agent called last night to tell me. I was pretty surprised.”

  “Whoa.” The Academy Awards of the comedy crowd. Maybe I’d underestimated this guy.

  Paul cleared his throat and said something I couldn’t quite make out.

  “Stephen, that’s great,” I managed. “Congratulations.”

  He reached into the Super-Gyros bag. “It’s a good thing, for sure. I could use this boost in my career right now. Less than a year ago, I wasn’t even sure I’d have a career in comedy anymore, so this is good.” He grabbed a jar of olives and opened it. Popping one in his mouth, he pointed to the room. “What do you think of the new design? Spent three hours last night getting it done.”

  “What? You moved the furniture?” So much for blaming the kids.

  “Yeah. Hope that’s okay.”

  “But we had a Dick Van Dyke theme going on in here,” I said. “Just got the furniture the week before you got here, so it’s all pretty new to us. We set the office up just like the one on The Alan Brady Show. We thought it would be inspirational.”

  “Right.” He nodded and took a seat, still holding the olive jar in a firm grip. “Just seemed too . . . perfect.”

  “Perfect?”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged. “Every time I get into a room where everything is in an exact place, I just feel like switching things up. I strive for imperfection.”

  “I see.” Only, I didn’t. Why would someone strive for imperfection? And what was wrong with keeping the office like it was?

  “Let’s keep it like this for a while,” he said. “See if it stirs up our creativity.” He pointed to a new picture on the wall, one he’d taken of Zeus. “Thought that might inspire us.”

  “It inspires me to call Animal Control,” I offered.

  “It inspires me to call my ex-wife and check on the dog she got custody of,” Paul added. A wistful look passed over him. “Man, I miss that dog.”

  I got a chuckle out of that one. The laughter seemed to relieve the tension in the room, helping me breathe easier.

  “You guys ready to get to work?” Stephen asked. “I came up with a great idea over the weekend. One that involves several of our new cast members. The older ones, I mean. I think you’re going to love it.”