Hollywood Girls Club (12 page)

It’d taken only two weeks to complete the buyout once Ezekiel met with Jeremy. Jeremy got his agency, Mrs. Cohen welcomed her husband home, and Jessica jumped from junior agent to president of CTA.

Jessica and Jeremy formed an impressive team and an ideal working relationship: Each had complete trust in the skills and loyalty of the other. Jeremy, an erudite Brit, preferred to hobnob with celebrity clients while on set in exotic locales such as Greece or Spain, having little patience for the day-to-day affairs of CTA. He gave Jessica full authority to oversee the operations of what was now, thanks to her tireless efforts, the biggest agency in the world.

Jessica walked into Jeremy’s corner office without bothering to have any of his three assistants announce her. She visited his office daily (when he wasn’t sailing on his yacht or jetting to Spain), but she didn’t often see a man sitting in front of Jeremy’s desk, as she did today.

“Oh, sorry, Jeremy, I’ll come back. I didn’t realize you were in a meeting,” she said.

“Jess, no, come in. We’ve been waiting for you. I believe you know Tolliver Jones.”

Jessica did, in fact, know Tolliver Jones. He was a senior vice president at DTA, one of CTA’s biggest rivals. She had met him years ago at a wrap party for
Gruesome
, a film she’d coproduced while still an executive for Mike Fox. Jessica remembered being unimpressed with both Tolliver’s work ethic (he’d represented the director of
Gruesome
, someone Jessica believed to be exceptionally talented and completely underrepresented) and his agenting skills. A complete blowhard, during negotiations Tolliver often resorted to both lying about the amount his clients were paid and screaming at attorneys in studio business affairs.

Tolliver turned his head and rose, extending his hand toward Jessica. “Jessica, it’s been too long,” he said.

Jessica gazed at Tolliver’s well-tanned face and blond hair. He could easily pass for a celebrity. His suit was perfectly tailored and pressed, without a crease, and she was certain his shirt was handmade. All the accoutrements of a successful agent.

Jessica shook Tolliver’s hand, and an alarm bell blasted in her head. This wasn’t going to be good.

“Seems Tolliver is in the market, shall we say,” Jeremy said, smiling at Jessica.

“I was telling Jeremy that my contract at DTA is up in two weeks, and I want to try something new. I’ve spent my entire career at one shop, and now that my client list is so exceptional, if I’m going to move, now is the time. So I came to you first. After all, why not try to play for the Yankees if you’re going to play?”

“Indeed.” Jeremy laughed. “Baseball; afraid I know nothing of it. But as far as us being the best in town, you’ll have to thank Jessica for that. I had very little to do with it.”

Tolliver’s obvious disregard for protocol irritated Jessica. Tolliver knew how this town ran; he’d been in the business for at least ten years. If he wanted to move agencies, he should have come to her, as president of the company, before approaching Jeremy.

“I was telling Tolliver how CTA always has room for someone of his caliber. Especially after reviewing his client list.” Jeremy held out a piece of paper. Jessica took it and scanned the names. Admittedly, it was impressive, but she knew for a fact that the majority of names on the list were not Tolliver’s clients; most were represented by other agents at DTA. But when an agent jumped to a new shop, you never knew for sure which clients would come with him.

“Of course, always, if we can make a deal,” Jessica said, handing the list back to Jeremy.

“Always the agent, aren’t you, Jess,” Tolliver said, his tone snide while he smiled. Jessica realized that he, too, knew you could say anything in Hollywood as long as you smiled. “Well, I need to get back.” Tolliver stood. “I still have two weeks, and I want to make sure that my employer gets what they paid for.”

Jeremy and Jessica both stood as Tolliver shook their hands in turn.

“Excellent, then. Tolliver, we’ll be in touch,” Jeremy said as Tolliver strolled out of the office.

Jessica watched as Jeremy read over Tolliver’s supposed client list yet again, enthusiasm building on his face. “Exceptional, isn’t it, Jess.” Jeremy grinned as if he’d found a nugget of gold in a piece of dirt. “I think he’d be a tremendous addition to the team, especially with all these fellows.”

“If the price is right. How much is the ask?”

“One-point-two.”

Jessica was surprised; she thought that was actually reasonable. She doubted that Tolliver made much less money at DTA. “Really? That seems a bit low.” Maybe it was a good deal.

“And copresident,” Jeremy said, looking into Jessica’s eyes.

“What?” Her stomach lurched. So Tolliver was after the direct access to Jeremy, and the power that being copresident of CTA provided. “Jeremy, I hardly think—”

“Come on, Jess, we discussed this, you and I, that if the
right
person came along, you’d be willing to share the crown, so to speak.”

“Yes, if the right person came around. But I hardly think that Tolliver is that person. His reputation around town isn’t pristine.”

“Whose is? Jess, this is big, I can feel it. With this list, we’d have everyone that we wanted.”

Jessica wasn’t convinced, and it wasn’t her ego. She truly believed that Tolliver wasn’t the right fit, that he would topple the precarious balance she and Jeremy had struck. Not having come up through the trenches, Jeremy wasn’t aware of how cutthroat the film business was. It was unusual to find a trustworthy counterpart within the viper’s nest, and when you did, you didn’t fuck around with it.

“I want this, Jess. I think it’s a good move.” Jeremy’s enthusiasm didn’t dampen even with Jessica’s hesitancy. “Besides, we both know he’ll be copresident in name only. You, my dear, have done too much to ever not be the one truly leading this agency.”

“Jeremy, I don’t know. I’ve always trusted your instincts, but this time it doesn’t feel right to me.”

Jeremy gave her his euphoric grin. “Come on, Jess, have I ever been wrong?”

Jessica brushed by the three assistants sitting outside her office. She didn’t own any part of CTA, so she knew hiring Tolliver was entirely Jeremy’s decision. And it appeared that the decision was already made. Jeremy had called CTA’s Business Affairs attorney while she was still in his office. She’d never seen Jeremy so enthusiastic and willing to move on something so quickly. He was decisive by nature, but this bordered on impulsive. Jeramy told CTA’s attorney to make a preliminary offer, with a substantial increase in the money Tolliver asked for but with a different title than copresident. Jessica knew that Tolliver would refuse. He wanted the title.

Jessica entered her office and stopped.

“What the fuck?” A sea of red flooded the room. Jessica’s number one assistant, Kim, appeared beside her.

“The florist said there are exactly one thousand eight hundred and ninety-three red roses in there.”

Jessica looked at Kim. “One thousand eight hundred and ninety-three? Is that number supposed to be significant to me? Did he say why?”

“Nope.”

“Is there a card?” Jessica asked.

“Yep.” Kim handed her a red silk envelope. “And it’s sealed with wax, so you can tell if it’s been opened.”

“It’s been opened.”

“I open all your mail,” Kim said. “I didn’t read it.”

The scent engulfed Jessica as she walked farther into the room. Every table, console, and bookcase held a bouquet. There were vases overflowing with roses packed on the floor. Jessica squeezed past them to her desk, put her finger under the silk flap, and pulled out the ecru card. The writing was in black fountain pen.

Jess:

One rose for every day I’ve spent without you. Please, don’t make me buy any more.

All my love, M. Fox

Jessica’s head spun. This had to be a joke. She’d seen Mike at the premiere, but they hadn’t slept together. They’d barely talked.
What the hell was this?

“Mike Fox on line one,” Kim called out.

Jessica put on her wireless headset and took a deep breath. “Are you crazy?” Jessica asked.

“Good morning to you, too,” Mike said.

“I already told you that you can’t have Holden for less than his fifteen-million-dollar quote—”

“Jess—”

“He’s worth every penny, and if you think some roses—”

“Jess—”

“—are going to make me change my mind … His last film made—”

“JESS! This isn’t about Holden.”

She paused and inhaled. The sweet scent of 1,893 roses filled her nose.
No, no, no!
This was typical Mike Fox, all show and no substance. He’d come on like gangbusters, and then as soon as he got bored or there was a new hottie on the cover of
Maxim
or
FHM
, he’d be gone. Just like last time, no big blowout, just no more Mike and only the photos in
People
of him canoodling in Paris with a supermodel to keep Jessica company.

“Then what is it?”

“You got my card?”

Jess fingered the red silk envelope. “Yes.”

“I’m very serious. I’m ready to settle down, be a father, a husband, a committed stand-up guy.”

Jess heard a collective gasp from her three assistants sitting outside her office. She’d forgotten they were on the line.

“There is no one else I know who would make a better wife or mother.”

Jess felt tears start to form in her eyes.
A better wife or mother? Prick. Nothing about love? Not a word. And five years too late.

Jessica stood up from her chair. “Have you fucking lost your mind? Wife and mother? For whom? You? I’ve spent the last five years rebuilding my life. I built the best client list in town. I’ve created the most respected motion picture department in the entire industry. Then you waltz in here and do this. Five years! Five
years
, Mike. Not days, not weeks, not months but
years
since we dated, and you tell me I’ll make a great wife and mother? What? You think you’re some great knight and I need to be rescued?”

Mike laughed. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“You laugh?! Did you just laugh?”

“Yes, Jess, I laughed. Don’t you remember I always laugh? It’s funny. You’re funny. God, I still love you.”

“Who do you think you are?”

“Jess.”

“No, really. I want all these roses gone by lunch.”

“Jess, come on—”

“I mean it. Or you will never hire another CTA client again, for any of your films.”

“Jess—”

“I’m done.” Jessica pushed the Release button and hung up.
What the fuck was he thinking?
She looked at the red surrounding her. She was engaged. She was planning a wedding. Living with Phil. Mike knew all that. Mike Fox might be used to getting everything he wanted, but he was not getting her. He did not get to tromp on her heart and then show up five years later and expect her to get married. He had to be back on the blow.

“Kim!” Jessica yelled. “Get in here!”

Kim appeared in Jessica’s office door with a sheepish look on her face.

“Not a word. You tell the other two if I hear a peep about this from anyone, and I mean anyone, you’re all fired. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Can you believe this?” Jessica said, deflated.

“He’s pretty cool, isn’t he?” Kim said.

Jess glanced at her. “Don’t believe all the hype. Get on the phone and start calling retirement homes. I want all of these gone by the time I’m back from the screening. Have the trainees in the mailroom deliver them.”

“Okay.”

Jess picked up her Prada bag. She had ten minutes to get to Summit to watch a screening of
Never So Faithful
.

“Jess, Lydia called while you were on with Mike. She found Zymar.”

“Really? What else?”

“Their start date is Monday. She’s having a dinner at Koi on Friday night. Wanted you to come by.”

“Call her and tell her yes. Book it into my schedule.” Jess glanced over her shoulder and into her office as she stood at the private elevator next to her third assistant’s desk.

“I’m not kidding,” she said. “Get rid of those fucking flowers.”

Chapter 12

Mary Anne and Her Chloe Leather Sandals

Mary Anne pulled her white 500 SL Mercedes convertible up to the valet at Koi (the trendiest sushi restaurant in L.A.). She was third in line, behind two black Range Rovers. And there was a Jaguar behind her. Lydia rented out the entire back room. A good-luck sushi celebration, she called it, for the cast, the director, and the writer. About fifteen people were coming.

Beeeep
. Mary Anne looked in her rearview mirror. Some asshole in a 1972 T-Top Trans Am (she only knew because she’d seen
Smokey and the Bandit
four times when she was a kid) pulled in two cars behind Mary Anne and honked his horn.

The driver popped his head out of the T-Top and yelled. “You people know who I am? Come on already! I’m hungry.”

What a jerk.
The valet pulled open Mary Anne’s door. Sweat dripped down the side of his cheek.

“Busy night?”

He smiled. “Welcome to Koi.”

“Hey, what the fuck? This isn’t social hour! Take her car. Go! Go! Go!” yelled the asshole.

Mary Anne gave the valet an I’m-so-sorry-people-are-assholes look as she handed over her keys.

“God, honey. No wonder you’re alone, if you’re that slow!”

That was enough abuse for Mary Anne. She stepped out onto the street and squinted toward the low-hanging headlights of the Trans Am. Standing there, she glared, giving the driver what she believed to be her dirtiest look. Suddenly she heard the screech of tires and the roar of an engine.

The light blinded her as the Trans Am barreled toward her. Oh my
God!
she thought as she fell to the pavement.

“Ma’am! Ma’am, are you all right?”

Mary Anne lay facedown on the asphalt. She could see dozens of shoes in front of her.

“Can you move? Can you hear me?”