“Honestly, I’m not sure how many more of those kid-driven scenes I can pull out of my hat.” Athena sighed and turned to Mark. “And I don’t think the audience will keep buying it. Seems like overkill if we keep counting on the kids to push the hero and heroine together. By now, everyone knows they have feelings for each other. It’s time to share those feelings with the world.”
I couldn’t help but squirm at that last line. After such a sweet kiss, I had to wonder if Scott and I would be sharing our feelings with the world in due time.
“Ultimately, it’s up to Rex, not me. He’s the producer.” I couldn’t help but notice a hint of sarcasm in Mark’s voice. We all knew Mark hadn’t taken well to Rex’s new role. Then again, who could blame him? The show had been through a multitude of changes over the past season. Just about the time we got used to someone, they were out and someone else was in. Left us all feeling pretty unstable.
I turned to Rex and noticed, for the first time, his gaze lingered on my grandmother. From the look on his face, he’d been concerned about Mark’s words injuring her too. Good for him.
Startling to attention, Rex addressed us, putting on his best producer voice. “Yes, well, let’s think about this from a different angle. As I said, I agree with Lenora. Jack and Angie need to express their feelings to each other. It’s the only way to move the show forward. And I don’t think we need to use the kids to accomplish that. Not anymore.”
Mark rose and began to pace. “I’m still not convinced, but if you’ve got your mind made up, we might as well take full advantage of it. Get the media involved.”
“What do you mean?” Rex asked.
Mark looked my way and then shifted his gaze to Scott. “If we go ahead and bring you two together as a couple on the show, the gossip columnists are sure to read into it and think you’re a couple in real life. Maybe we can stage a couple of appearances with the two of you out on the town . . . maybe even get you guys on Entertainment Tonight.”
“W-what?” My heart rate skipped to double time. Glancing at Scott, I marveled at his ability to keep his cool. How could Mark even suggest such a thing? I looked into our director’s eyes, trying to figure out if he was kidding. Surely he didn’t think we’d really go along with this.
“Mark, I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” Scott said. “The paparazzi are already a problem for both of us. Even going to the grocery store is getting tough. I don’t know that I want to invite more media attention, especially as it applies to my personal life.”
I couldn’t help but notice that his cheeks turned red as he spoke the words personal life.
Mark looked back and forth between us. “What do you expect? You’re doing a show about two talent scouts who used to be archenemies. The public will eat it up if they think you’re falling for each other in real life. And what would it hurt, anyway? Neither of you is involved with anyone at the moment, right?”
A few hours ago I might’ve answered with a no, but that kiss from Scott convinced me otherwise. Not enough to share my thoughts or feelings with Mark, however.
“This is a brilliant idea.” Grandma Lenora gave an abrupt nod. “KK hasn’t dated anyone for ages.” She went on about how she’d prayed for years that the Lord would bring just the right person into my life, and how—until now—he had remained silent. “Let the public see you as a couple,” she said. “It will do you—and them—good.”
Good grief. Could things possibly get any more awkward?
Rex gave me a fatherly look, his eyes twinkling with unexpected merriment. “I’m not saying I agree about involving the paparazzi. But I suppose it’s inevitable the public will wonder if you two are really enamored with each other.” He turned to Scott. “Sometimes people have a hard time separating fiction from reality.”
For whatever reason, this last line caused all of us to turn to Grandma, who rattled on again about my lack of a love life.
Rex nodded and then piggybacked on her enthusiasm. “People will talk, and I suppose we can’t really control what they say. You certainly can’t control what appears in the magazines and on TV.”
I sighed at that one, thinking of how I’d made the attempt more than a few times. The paparazzi had already labeled me “Kat with Nine Lives” because I’d been linked to so many failed television pilots. I couldn’t stand the idea that they would find yet another reason to comment on my already-too-public life.
For the first time I noticed the exhaustion in Rex’s eyes. “I’ve been in this business a long, long time,” he said. “I’ve outlived most of the folks who used to work for those newspapers and magazines.”
“If that’s what you want to call them,” I muttered.
“True. I’m just saying that I’ve outlived them, but their tactics haven’t changed. They’re out to get a story. And when there isn’t one . . .”
“They have to make up something.”
Mark joined in, his enthusiasm growing. “Only, maybe this time we’ll use the story to our advantage.” He went off on a tangent about how we could do that, but he lost me after a few words. Getting the public involved in my personal life didn’t feel right—at all.
Thankfully Athena and the other writers began to express their opinions, and before long we had all come to an agreement. Jack and Angie would kiss. The viewers would love it. Ratings would rise. And the paparazzi would have a field day with it.
I groaned inwardly at that last part but kept my mouth shut. Playing along might be for the best . . . for the sake of the show. I couldn’t bear the idea of Stars Collide unraveling. Surely the publicists could step in and save the day.
Rex offered a hand to Grandma Lenora, who took it with a shy smile. She rose and did a bit of primping, showing off her shimmering black dress. “No one asked me who I am today,” she said at last. A rehearsed pout followed.
“Who are you today, Lenora?” Scott asked with a twinkle in his eye.
She grinned. “Bette Davis. The Little Foxes. 1941.”
“Nice choice.” Rex gave her a tender smile, and her gaze lingered on him before darting to the floor. “Bette was always one of my favorites.” He dove into a story about a Bing Crosby fund-raiser he’d once gone to at the Beverly Hills Hotel, where he’d met her in person, but my attention shifted to Scott. I could feel his eyes on me. Was he as worried about this paparazzi thing as I was?
Looking my way, he gave me a little wink. My heart sailed straight up into my throat.
Heavens! I’d fallen . . . and I wasn’t sure I wanted to get up.
3
The Golden Girls
As we prepared to leave the studio, Grandma Lenora turned to me, her hands clasped together. “KK, I have the best idea!”
“What’s that?”
Her eyes twinkled as she responded, “Let’s go to the Brown Derby for dinner tonight. My treat!”
Oh, yikes. Not again. “I don’t really think—”
“You know, I once went there with Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz . . . when they were still married, I mean.” Grandma gave me a knowing look. “I realize they’re divorced now. Such a shocker. Don’t you find it sad that so many couples are getting divorced these days?”
I drew in a deep breath and counted to three before responding. So many times of late she’d asked me to take her to places that no longer existed. And I certainly didn’t have the heart to tell her that Lucy and Desi were currently dining in that great Brown Derby in the sky.
“I don’t think that’s the best idea,” I said at last.
“Oh, well, let’s stop at Pink’s then,” she said with a glimmer in her eyes. “They’ve got the best hot dogs ever.”
I couldn’t argue with her there, but with her cholesterol on the rise, hot dogs weren’t the best option. “I think we’re better off going home,” I said at last. “You’re on a special diet, remember?”
She groaned. “There’s nothing wrong with this heart of mine. I have no idea why that doctor put me on a low-cholesterol diet. He just w
ants to spoil my fun.”
“No, he just wants you to be around so that he can enjoy seeing you in more episodes of our show. And who knows . . . if you stay healthy, you might be asked to compete on Dancing with the Stars next season. I heard they’re putting together the list now.”
“Oooh! Do you think they might pick me?”
“Sure, why not?” I could see it now—Lenora Worth, dolled up in a dress from the 1940s, waltzing around the dance floor and winning the hearts of the viewers. Stranger things had happened.
We walked side by side to the studio door. Once outside, we were met with glorious blue skies and perfect weather.
“Wow, great day to let out early.” I could hardly wait to get home and take a dip in the pool.
Grandma Lenora wrapped her hair in a beautiful scarf and handed me one in leopard print. “Put this on, KK. Don’t want your hair to get messy on the way home.”
“You want to drive or should I?” I asked as I tied the scarf in place.
She giggled. “Oh, honey, it’s midday. Tourists are out in force. You drive so I can wave to my fans.”
I stifled a grin and nodded. Lenora Worth could work a crowd, that much was certain.
“Would you mind fetching the Pink Lady and pulling her around to the front? My hips are really bothering me today and I don’t think I’ll make it to the parking lot.”
My heart went out to her. Grandma had been having a lot of joint pain lately. That, coupled with her ever-increasing memory loss and rising cholesterol, really had me unnerved. I’d spent more than the usual amount of time ushering up prayers for her health over the past weeks.
I gave an upbeat answer. “I’ll be happy to. You just wait right here.” Pressing my sunglasses in place, I headed off to fetch the car. I didn’t really mind walking alone, not with my mind still reeling from Scott’s kiss. I thought again of our private exchange, how he had pulled me into his arms and whispered so tenderly in my ear. Goose bumps covered my arms as I relived the special moment.
In the parking lot, I located the car at once. The pink Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz glistened under a bright Los Angeles sun. I’d never questioned Grandma’s car choices. In fact, I’d rather grown to love the eclectic old vehicles. This one happened to be my favorite, though guiding the oversized vehicle through L.A.’s traffic often proved to be a challenge. Thank goodness I’d finally talked her into having the top customized, and with the push of a button it lifted and tucked itself away, out of sight.
Now, to pick up the grand dame of Hollywood. Or, rather, the woman who still fancied herself as such. With sunglasses and scarf in place, I pulled the car around to the front of the studio. Once there, I caught a glimpse of my grandmother leaning against the column in front of the studio in a rehearsed pose. Probably something she’d memorized from a scene she’d once acted out.
From a distance, I pondered how Lenora Worth must appear to others . . . the ’50s Hollywood star, still dressing in gowns from days gone by. I found it sentimental and sweet—encouraged it, actually. Of course, I had my reasons. Still, I was keenly aware of how she might be perceived by others. Likely they’d just think she’d lost her marbles.
Lost her marbles. Hmm.
A sinking feeling settled over me as I reflected on how many times Grandma’s memory had slipped over the past few months. The medication had held her symptoms at bay for a season, but these days she often surprised me with her off-the-wall comments.
Thankfully I’d come up with a plan to keep her mind active and alert. I pulled the car up to the curb and gave her a little wave. She responded with a grin, then reached to open the door on the passenger side. Glancing over at her, I gave her a knowing look and said, “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.”
Grandma Lenora smiled, adjusted her scarf, and came back with, “Humphrey Bogart. Casablanca. 1942.”
“You’re the best!” I shifted the car into Drive and set off toward home.
Grandma chatted on and on about the power outage and the subsequent meeting, but my thoughts were elsewhere. With that glorious sunshine beaming down on me and a delightful afternoon breeze casting its spell, I truly felt like a star.
My grandmother adjusted the CD player, and seconds later Doris Day’s girl-next-door voice filled the car. I hummed along to “A Guy Is a Guy,” one of Grandma’s favorites. Most people my age would find it crazy, me being so fascinated with Doris Day, but I couldn’t deny my addiction. Who else had a voice like that and was such a classy lady to boot?
Turning onto Sunset, I wound my way along, passing the Beverly Hills Hotel. As we waited at the light, Grandma went into her usual spiel about the many nights she’d stayed at the hotel as a young starlet and all of the glamorous parties she’d attended over the years. The light turned green and I edged my way forward, apparently too soon to suit her.
“Slow down, KK! Slow down.” Grandma waved her hand, her gaze never leaving the hotel.
I put my foot on the brake, preparing for the inevitable.
“I stayed in that bungalow right there!” Grandma pointed, for the millionth time, to the third bungalow.
Behind us, a cranky driver honked. Apparently he didn’t care that Lenora Worth was reliving her earlier days in Hollywood. He just wanted to keep things moving. Who could blame him? Life moved really fast these days. People didn’t take the time to slow down and reminisce. Not on Sunset Boulevard, anyway.
I stepped on the gas, but Grandma gestured for me to move slowly. Tears filled her eyes as she shared the story once again. I knew from having stayed in one of the bungalows myself that they were really set up like individual homes, each quite luxurious.
“Liz Taylor honeymooned in that one.” Grandma pointed, but I couldn’t really look, what with the driver behind me now riding my tail.
I picked up the pace and countered with my usual question: “Which honeymoon?”
“Six out of eight!” Grandma chortled. “Guess she liked the place.” She dove into her usual speech about all of the others who’d frequented the bungalows—Marilyn Monroe, Marlene Dietrich, and several others. Thankfully she was so caught up in the story that she didn’t seem to notice I’d moved on down the road. Unfortunately, I didn’t make it very far. Just a few blocks down, she let out a cry. “KK, stop!”
“What? Why?” I hit the brakes.
Grandma pointed to a makeshift building on the side of the road with the words Maps to the Stars emblazoned across the top. “I need to speak with the proprietor.” She pointed to the young man who waved at passersby, ushering them into his place of business to purchase maps.
I turned the car into the rough driveway, groaning all the way. This wasn’t the first time we’d made this stop, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last.
When I shifted to Park, Grandma eased her way out of the car. I could see from her slow movement that her hips were really giving her trouble, but I knew they would not prevent her from fulfilling this mission. Nothing could stop her when she was in diva mode.
Grandma walked directly to the fellow at the booth and wiggled her finger in his face. He looked a bit startled, and all the more as he took in her outfit. Still, to his credit, he let her pitch a fit without responding. At first, anyway.
I turned off the car and joined her, arriving just as she hollered, “What do you mean my house still isn’t on the map? Young man, do you know who I am?”
“Yeah, you’re that old lady who keeps stopping by here to chew me out.” He shifted his gum to the other side of his mouth. “That’s all I know.”
“Back in my day, women were treated with dignity.” She crossed her arms at her chest. “Particularly Hollywood stars. And I’ll have you know my house—Worth Manor—is a top spot in Beverly Hills. So explain to me if you will why my home is no longer featured on that map you sell.”
“Look, lady, I’ll tell you what I said the last two times you stopped. I just sell the maps. I don’t print them. There’s a company tha
t—” He never got to finish.
Her blue eyes flashed as she interrupted him. “I remember exactly what you said the last two times I stopped by. My memory is in fine working order, young man.”
I swallowed hard at that one. She apparently had no idea just how jumbled her thought processes had gotten over the past few months. Still, when it came to her beloved home, she apparently had no trouble remembering she’d somehow been overlooked on the most recent copy of the map.
“C’mon, lady. I just work here.” The guy, whose nametag read Damian, shifted his weight, his jaw growing tight.
“Yes, and if you want to go on working here, you will tell the people who print this map to include Worth Manor, or I will file suit.”
“File suit?” He looked at her, eyes wide. “You mean, like a lawsuit? Seriously?”
“Yes. I am Lenora Worth. I have the best attorneys in the city.”
Another slight misstatement. Her personal attorney, Leroy Finkelstein, had passed away in the ’80s, but I didn’t have the heart to remind her of that. Not now, anyway. And most of the others from his firm—at least the ones she’d worked with—were approaching retirement or had already passed on to that great courtroom in the sky.
I looked at the young man and offered a half smile as I pulled off my sunglasses. “Thanks for your help, Damian. I’m sure you can see how important this is to my grandmother. She’s very proud of her legacy and wants to make sure others see her lovely home when they’re touring the area.” I pulled out a business card and scribbled the studio’s phone number on it. “I hope you can help us. Please call me if you can. Ask for Kat Jennings.” I pulled off my scarf, allowing my long blonde hair to hang loose. Hopefully he would put two and two together.
“Kat Jennings?” He gave me a closer look. “Wait a minute . . .” A knowing look passed over his face. “I know you! You’re on that TV show, that one about the two talent scouts who are secretly in love.”
“Stars Collide.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “My girlfriend loves that show. But she wants to know when Jack and Angie are going to get together. She’s tired of waiting. She thinks all that stuff with the kids pushing them together is cute, but she’s about to give up on them ever ending up a couple.”