Hello, Hollywood!

  Pressing back the sigh that threatened to erupt was the easy part. Holding my tongue was tougher. Seemed like this guy was buzzing with ideas. Oh, they were mostly good, but where did he get off thinking he could lead the way? Wasn’t that the job of the head writer? And who’d given him permission to move the furniture? Talk about presumptuous.

  Determined to get some work done, I settled deeper into the sofa. Nothing about its current position felt right. In fact, it threw off my equilibrium and my creativity. Paul took his place behind the desk, which had been moved to the far side of the room. I could tell from the look on his face that he wasn’t having any of this, but he managed to keep his mouth shut just the same.

  Ironically, he was the only one keeping his mouth shut. The next hour or so was filled with people stopping by the office to chat, starting with Jana. She stepped inside the room, her arms loaded with costumes.

  “Hey, Athena, I just wanted to run this by you.” She held up a frumpy-looking floral dress in a hideous shade of green. “We’re thinking Kat should wear this in next week’s episode.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. You know that one scene where Jack and Angie dress up like old people and visit the retirement center?”

  “Oh, right, right.” I gave the dress a closer look. “Looks okay to me.” And since when do you run costumes by me?

  Jana looked Stephen’s way and shuffled the costumes from one arm to the other. “We’re thinking about this shirt and bow tie for Jack. What do you think, Stephen?” Her eyelashes—were those fake?—fluttered wildly. Good grief.

  He looked up from his work. “I guess so. Didn’t really picture him in the bow tie, but what do I know? I’m no expert on costumes. I really don’t know much about them.”

  “You don’t?” She draped the costumes across the back of the chair and sidled up next to him. “Oh, you don’t know what you’re missing. Costuming is the very heart of the show. I mean, think about it. You writers come up with an amazing script, and then the actors take it and do their part. But the folks in the costume department play a role too. There wouldn’t be a show without us.”

  “We’re grateful for that,” I threw in. “I know we couldn’t do it without you.”

  “We have to be creative too.” She spoke to me but looked at Stephen, inching her way a bit closer. “What if you wrote a great, funny scene—something lighthearted and fun—and we dressed the character in a stiff, complicated outfit that didn’t suit the scene? It’s important that we catch the vision and run with it.”

  I’m catching your vision, all right, girl.

  She scooted closer still. “We’re on the same team, you know. You guys are the peanut butter and we’re the jelly.” Her eyelashes took to fluttering once again. “What good would one be without the other? You know what I mean?”

  Yes. I know exactly what you mean. And I’m feeling a little nauseous.

  Stephen offered a weak smile. “Guess this wouldn’t be a good time to tell you that I’m not crazy about PB and J.”

  She chuckled. “That’s okay. I’ll come up with another analogy. You just keep writing those brilliant scenes and I’ll keep dressing the characters. Deal?”

  “Deal.” He nodded and shook her hand.

  Me? I was too busy being upset at her line that he needed to keep writing brilliant scenes. Had Jana forgotten that there were other writers involved? Paul and I had feelings. We needed encouragement too.

  No sooner had Jana left than Nora arrived with some sketches. Hopefully she could lift my spirits. She always managed to put a smile on my face.

  “Just wanted to talk you through how we’re going to age Jack and Angie in next week’s episode.” She spoke to me, so I expected her to take a few steps in my direction. Instead, she placed her sketches down on the coffee table and turned to Stephen. “I think you’re going to like this. It’s going to be so much fun aging Kat and Scott. Can’t wait to show you projected images of what they’re going to look like as elderly people. And you’ll love the wigs we’re using. Actually, Scott’s is sort of a hairless number. He’s going to be nearly bald with tiny wisps of hair.”

  I tried to inch my way into the spot next to her on the sofa, but I couldn’t get a close look because she and Stephen remained hunched over the sketches.

  “It’s going to be great, Nora,” he said. “I think the audience is going to love this scene, and it’s going to be even better because of you.”

  “Thanks.” Her cheeks turned strawberry-sherbet pink. “Just doing my job. You make it so much fun, Stephen. You really do. I was hoping you would like this.”

  Good grief. Since when do you run the sketches by the writers?

  I rose and walked over to the desk, where I took a seat and began to play solitaire on the computer. After a few more minutes, Nora finally left. I was tempted to lock the door but decided people would get the wrong idea. Still, how could we get anything done if co-workers kept interrupting?

  Tia entered the room about three minutes later, just as we’d finally started to get into gear. I groaned inwardly. Surely our director—a consummate pro—wasn’t smitten with Stephen too.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “But I want to run some ideas by you guys. In case I haven’t mentioned it before, that retirement center scene is brilliant. Just the ticket. And I want to make the best of it, so I’m thinking about a couple of interesting camera angles. Let me talk you through what I have in mind.”

  She stood in the center of the room, looking much like a conductor leading an orchestra as she shared her enthusiastic plan for how the scene would be shot. I knew a little about cinematography, but she lost me somewhere between wide-angle shots, aspect ratio, and focal length. Stephen seemed to understand every word. At one point he rose and joined her, putting his hands up in some strange gesture to represent a camera angle.

  “We used this approach with my HBO special,” he said. “And I really believe it made all the difference. It’s innovative, but innovative is good. I’m one for change.”

  No joke. Look at the furniture.

  Of course, he’d changed more than the furniture, hadn’t he? Already he’d shifted the entire strategy for the show. Without asking me. The head writer.

  As he and Tia rambled on and on, I found myself thinking about Brooke. Wondering how she felt about all of the changes her dad went through. Chances were pretty good the preteen just wanted things to slow down, not keep whirling out of control. She’d been through enough shifts in her young life already.

  I was so lost in my thoughts that I almost missed Tia’s exit. Only when she hollered, “See you on the set,” did I jar back to attention.

  “Man, this place is more crowded than Grand Central Station today.” I sighed, wondering if we’d ever get anything done.

  “No kidding. But I like their ideas. All of them.” He gave me a funny look. “Can’t you sense it?”

  “Sense what?”

  “Things are stirring. Changing.”

  Paul grunted. “They’re changing, all right.” His gaze shifted to the pen in his hand.

  “I love it when that feeling of excitement is so thick you could almost cut it with a knife.” Stephen’s face creased in a boyish smile. “And if we feel that way, imagine how the viewers are going to feel when these new episodes begin to air. I’m telling you, things are on the move. In a good way.”

  He grew silent and began to pace the room. I found it a little unnerving in light of the fact that his lengthy talk had dried up so quickly. After pacing a while, he finally stopped and turned my way.

  “Okay, here’s what I’m thinking. We’ve brought in two stars in their golden years for this week’s episode, right?”

  “Right.” Paul and I spoke in unison.

  “This is sure to up our ratings,” Stephen said. “Viewers always respond well to older people, especially when they’re funny. I know we’re going to see our numbers improve.”

  Paul offered a grunt. I chose not to respon
d. Should I tell this novice that it often took weeks to get a feel for the true ratings? That the up-and-down nature of the business meant we might soar with the viewers this week but sink the next? Nah. He’d figure it all out . . . in time.

  Stephen kept rambling. “It’s time to start upping the ante. Something has to happen next week to take a toll on Jack and Angie’s relationship. We’re at Step 3 in the plotline now.”

  “The dark moment?” Paul asked.

  “Not quite,” Stephen said. “According to the class I’m taking, this is the ‘Refusing the Call’ stage. It’s where the hero or heroine has a major opportunity but is afraid to step out and do anything about it. Fear stops him. Or her.”

  “So what’s the big opportunity?” I asked.

  “The chance to save the agency from ruin. But something has to foil the plan.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “What we need is something that will force Jack and Angie into a position where they have no choice but to act. That’s Step 5, by the way.”

  If he mentioned that stupid plotline one more time, I might just snap like a twig. What kind of a sitcom writer had to take writing classes? Are you a pro, or aren’t you?

  “Look,” I said. “We’ve never really worked this way before. We’ve always just sort of flown by the seat of our pants. It’s worked fine for us. I don’t see any reason to fix something that’s not broken.”

  “Well, yes,” he said. “But there’s nothing wrong with trying something new, right? Especially if it helps stir our creativity. Besides, I already talked to Rex about this idea and he likes it.”

  Of course you did. Which puts me at Step 5 on my own personal plotline, doesn’t it? I have no choice but to move forward.

  Another twisted irony.

  “Maybe one of the elderly clients has a former agent bent on taking them down,” Paul said. “Or something like that. What do you think?”

  “Sounds good.” Stephen nodded.

  “I see him as a Snidely Whiplash sort,” Paul added. “Maybe he’s out to steal some of their older clients, once they start getting famous again. Can you imagine how much we could do with that?”

  “Ooo, great idea,” I said. “And I love that Snidely Whiplash angle. Angie can have a dream that he’s tying her to the train tracks, then Jack can rush in and save her.” I turned to Stephen, hands on my hips, ready to beat him at his own game. “That would put us at Step 6 on the plotline, would it not? Isn’t that the stage where the hero and heroine are trying to figure out who they can trust and who they can’t? They struggle to know their enemies from their allies?” I hoped the stare that followed would convey my real meaning.

  “Well, yes, but . . .” Stephen shrugged. “I’m just not sure we want to take this so literally. I was thinking of something a little more symbolic. Let me think about this whole ‘tying her to the tracks’ thing, okay?”

  I brushed aside my wounded feelings and listened as he continued to share his ideas for how the scene could go down. Not bad, but my original idea was much better. In my own humble opinion, anyway.

  He continued on, oblivious to my thoughts. “I was thinking we’d include Lenora in this episode,” he said. “She’d be great, don’t you think?”

  “Even better.” My enthusiasm kicked into overdrive. “She can be the lovely Nell Fenwick, the one he ties to the tracks.” My enthusiasm grew with each passing moment. “She’ll be great at that, don’t you think? And Jack and Angie can be the ones to rescue her from the evil Snidely Whiplash.” What fun! Oh, I love episodes like this. The viewers will eat it up.

  Stephen shook his head and ate another olive. “I’m not so sure. It’s a little too old-fashioned.”

  “That’s the idea. We’ll use old-fashioned costumes and makeup. And we’ll ask that the whole thing be shot in sepia tone to give it that old-film effect. What do you think?”

  “I like it,” Paul said. “Takes me back to the old Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoons. I loved those Dudley Do-Right bits. No one does comedy like that anymore.”

  We both turned to face Stephen, who shrugged. I could read the concern in his eyes. “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about this.”

  “It’s going to be great. Jack and Angie rescue Lenora—and maybe some of the other elderly cast members. Chaos reigns, the kids get involved, and Jack and Angie end up at each other’s throats.” My enthusiasm now ran full throttle. “Only at the end of the episode do they remember they’re on the same team. They come out stronger in the end, and the other agent gets his comeuppance.”

  I could tell from the look on Stephen’s face that he didn’t agree with the direction I’d taken this conversation. Still, to his credit, he said nothing.

  I plowed ahead, laying out a detailed plan for the Snidely Whiplash episode, one sure to please both the sponsors and the viewers. Paul played along, clearly loving every suggestion and chiming in with even more. Stephen didn’t really comment much, but that was okay. Maybe he’d finally grabbed hold of the idea that I was the head writer on this show. I had the final say-so on anything that went out of this office.

  Yes, it felt mighty good to be in charge again. So good that I might just move the furniture back to where it belonged once Dr. Hottie left for the day.

  The writing of the Snidely Whiplash episode went even better than I’d hoped. It took some doing to talk Rex into it, however. He didn’t seem as enthused as we writers had been. Well, Paul and me, anyway. Stephen still seemed a little—what’s the word . . . aloof?—about the whole thing. I couldn’t tell if his feelings were hurt, or if maybe he thought I’d plowed over him. Regardless, it felt good to know I’d put out a show I could be proud of, and it felt even better to know Kat, Scott, and Lenora would get to act out that classic scene at the railroad tracks. I could hardly wait for the roundtable reading on Monday.

  As we closed up shop on Friday, I looked around the office, still puzzled by the furniture. Paul straightened up the mess on the desk and put his laptop away. As I pulled open the door to leave, I found all of the younger Stars Collide cast members standing in the hallway. It was clear from the expressions on their little faces that trouble was afoot.

  “Well, hello.” I smiled at Candy, a precocious little blonde.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Miss Athena, can we talk?”

  “Oh, we need to talk, do we?” Paul chuckled.

  “Yes.” She nodded and gestured to the room. “Can we come in?”

  “Of course,” I said.

  They filed in—Candy leading the way, with little Toby, five, behind her. Then came Marcus and finally Katie, holding a doll in her arms.

  “Please, have a seat.” I gestured to the divan.

  They sat in a row, looking so darling I found myself tempted to snap a photo. But the impatient look on Candy’s face told me that they’d come on a mission.

  “What can we do for you kiddos?” Paul asked, his arms crossed.

  “We want to play a trick on Mr. Stephen,” Candy said. “He’s brand-new, so we think it will be fun.”

  “A trick? What kind of a trick?”

  She giggled and her cheeks turned pink. “Well, remember how we were always playing tricks on Mr. Scott and Miss Kat last season, and they finally fell in love?”

  I chuckled. “Yes, I remember. You managed to talk us into writing a few of them into the script. That bit where Jack and Angie got locked in a closet together was hysterical, if I do say so myself.”

  “The other pranks were great too,” Paul said.

  “The pranks worked,” Candy said. “They fell in love and got married.”

  “So, is that the goal?” Paul asked. “You want Stephen to fall in love with someone?”

  I suddenly felt like someone had reached inside my chest and yanked my heart up to my throat. So that’s what this was about. The little vixens wanted to play matchmaker again. Hopefully they wouldn’t involve me in this.

  “Yes,” Candy said. “We want him to fall in love with Miss Tia.”
br />   No way.

  Picking my jaw up off the floor was the first order of business. The second was to think of something brilliant to say to the kids in response to their ludicrous idea. Stephen and Tia? Did they really think our show’s director had eyes for him—or vice versa?

  “Well, I’m all for love,” Paul said. “But I have to wonder who came up with this idea. Seems a little far-fetched.”

  “What’s far-fetched mean?” Toby asked, scratching his nose.

  “It means it’s probably not going to happen,” Candy said. “But it is. Just wait. You’ll see.”

  Toby looked around the room. “Where’s the candy jar?”

  I glanced his way. “Candy jar?”

  “Mr. Bob always gave us candy.” Toby released an exaggerated sigh. “And I loved his jokes. He was so funny. I really miss him.”

  “We miss him too, kiddo.” Paul tousled the kid’s hair.

  “He knew every single knock-knock joke,” Toby said. “Every one.”

  “Why did he have to go away?” Marcus asked.

  “He’s working on a movie,” I said. “But maybe he’ll come back in a few weeks.”

  Toby’s face lit up like a child on Christmas morning. “Oh, good. Tell him to bring lots of candy with him.”

  “I’ll do that. Now, can we finish the conversation about Tia and Stephen, please?” I asked. “Because it’s getting late and we have to go.”

  “Miss Tia is sad and lonely.” Candy’s smile faded to a frown.

  “She is?”

  “Yeah.” Candy sighed. “I heard her in the ladies’ dressing room talking to Kat.”

  I gave her a scolding look. “You were listening in on their private conversation?”

  “Not on purpose.” Candy pouted. “Can I help it if I have really good ears? It’s not my fault I could hear them whispering.”

  “I see. So, you decided Miss Tia needs a love interest.”

  “It would be so romantical.” Candy giggled, but Toby slapped himself in the head. “Then they could get married like Miss Kat and Mr. Scott did, and everyone could live happily ever after.”