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Authors: Don Bruns

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As traumatic as the experience had been, I decided not to spring it on Em. I considered talking about it after she'd had a chance to discuss her experience at the coffee shop.

Actually, I thought we would go back to the motel, relax, and maybe take advantage of a one-bed situation. That wasn't to be. She started talking nonstop, and the contents of the meeting came pouring out.

“He thinks I've got talent, Skip. Martin Scott.” She was babbling, obviously high on the situation. “Major potential.”

Potential? I wasn't surprised. She was fresh, talented, fresh, good-looking, and did I mention fresh? I was starting to realize that Hollywood was all about new talent. Fresh, new talent. Someone who had the potential. Because almost all the other actors had been reduced to secondary roles. A handful of A-list actors, maybe thirty or forty of them, got the big roles. Everyone else was hanging on by a thread. And the representatives, the agents, managers, producers, and directors were all desperately looking for someone hot, someone fresh, who had the potential to be the next big A-list actor.

“He's done episodes of
Friends
,
Modern Family
,
Scrubs
,
The Big Bang Theory
,
Harry
'
s Law
—”

The little old lady with the straw purse wouldn't be impressed. Half the shows had been canceled.

“Martin has decided I can do the guest shot.” She squealed and grabbed my arm. “I got the part, Skip. I really got the part.”

I was numb.

“And Martin is going to start fleshing out the character.”

First name basis already. Martin.

“It may mean a continuing role. Isn't this exciting? Continuing role. I mean, we're here two days and even though I know we're working a case, I mean—”

Emily was almost always the grown-up in our relationship and here she was acting like a little girl. And I guess it was good to know she was aware of the reason we'd come to La-La Land. At this moment, I was aware of why it was often referred to as La-La Land. Em was a little La-La at the moment.

“And the fake card thing, I feel certain that Martin and Juliana can pull some strings when the time is right. Not that I'm going to tell them right now, I mean, but—”

I drove slowly back to Londell's office, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror and not saying anything. I fully expected to see the stalking shiny black BMW, but it didn't materialize.

“They want a new name, Skip. A new name? Apparently, they feel the name Emily Minard does not have a flow to it. It doesn't have the glamorous sound of a Hollywood star.” She sounded somewhat annoyed.

I always was partial to that name. I even wrote a poem for English class when I was a sophomore in high school.

Emily Minard, if I were a bard, I
'
d write a greeting card, to tell you how much I love you
.

I got a D for my effort. I thought I should have received an A for my originality. It didn't happen.

“You do know this can't lead to a happy conclusion, Em. We're dealing with a fake résumé, a fake union card, possibly a killer wife, a fake cameraman and—” I started to tell her about the car that almost wiped me out, but she cut me off.

“Just because she had a major policy on her husband, doesn't mean she's a murderer, Skip.” Her tone had gone cold.

“Em—”

“You don't want this to happen, do you? It's not just the case. I know what this is about. You are afraid that if I do well, and this thing is a success, it will come between us.”

“Listen to you. Will you take a second and just listen to what you're saying? Come on, Emily, this is make-believe. Fantasy. This is crazy talk.”

“I go along with your ridiculous schemes. I put my life on the line. In the past, Mr. Moore, I have championed your causes on a regular basis, even when I thought they were the stupidest ideas in the world.”

She had.

“And you won't grant me this one opportunity to do something I've secretly dreamed about my entire life?”

And again, I almost told her that I'd put my life on the line today, not even knowing why.

She shut down and didn't say another word to me until we arrived at Juliana's talent agency.

I parked half a block from the office in the closest spot I could find, and she jumped out and headed down the sidewalk. Juliana was giving her some paperwork to fill out. She promised she'd only be a minute.

As I sat there watching her walk away from me, two things happened.

A green Jag XKE pulled up in front of the office in a newly vacated spot, and the secretary Sue Waronker walked out of the office and headed toward my rental. As she reached the car, I rolled the window down.

“Hey, Sue.”

Looking down, she made a sour face.

“The best manager in Hollywood, right?”

“The case could be made. It appears Em got the part.”

Her expression was vacant.

“In the sitcom? The one Juliana had her read for? The blonde bombshell?” She looked totally bored. No excitement for a brand-new client.

I nodded. “By the way, who's Juliana's boyfriend? The one in the green Jag up there by the office?”

She shook her head. “What's with you?”

“I told you, your boss got me fired. You told me yourself that she is a real ballbuster. And I want to know more about her. Like who is she dating?”

Sighing, she glanced at the green sports car.

“Not that it's any business of yours, but the guy in the cool car,” she ran her eyes over my cheap rental Chevy Aveo, “that's Rob Mason. You haven't heard of him? I'm surprised you two aren't old drinking buddies since you're in the same business. He manages some of the biggest new names in the industry. I would think he would be friends with you due to your huge successes.” She gave me a broad smile, insincere at best.

I know sarcasm when I hear it.

“And he's dating Juliana Londell?”

“They seem to be friendly.”

I smiled.

“Will there be anything else, Kip?”

“Yes. How long have they been seeing each other?” I had
nothing to lose, and the answer had value. If she gave me an answer—

She didn't. Rolling her brown eyes, she walked away.

“So, I saw you talking to the secretary. Flirting or getting information?”

“You know how much I flirt.” Never. “I'm still working the case. Information, Em. Information.”

“And you're suggesting I'm not working for information?” The bitterness had returned in her voice.

“Not suggesting,” I said. “Stating the fact.”

“For your information, Mr. Moore, Juliana started talking about a guy named Rob Mason. Another manager whom she seems to be very close to. Like maybe they were seeing each other.”

I pointed to the car parked in front of Londell's office building.

“The guy with the green Jag who lip-locked her earlier today.”

“Oh.” She didn't sound surprised. “Anyway, since you've been fired—”

“You've got to rub that in, don't you?”

Em ignored my comment. “She said with her connection to this Mason guy, the sky was the limit as to my potential. So I'm thinking this might be a good deal for us. You and me.”

“Us?”

“I think she wants to hook me up with Mason.”

“Hook you up?” My voice rose.

“Agent and client, dumb ass. Let's not project things into this conversation that aren't there.”

The turn of the conversation had taken me aback.

“I'll find out how long they've been dating,” Em said. “If she was unfaithful to Jason then that fact might help us in the murder investigation.”

Begrudgingly, I nodded. “Maybe this Martin Scott was right. Possibly you do have potential.”

“You're just starting to realize that?”

“Damn, Em, I've been your biggest supporter since forever.”

Pursing her pretty lips, she pouted and said, “I was always aware that I was able to get what I wanted, Skip. That was clear to me at an early stage in my life. But then I haven't wanted much. No huge-scale dreams. And Daddy had a job waiting for me after graduation that paid very well.”

“So, all of a sudden someone else is interested, and you're willing to give up whatever you have to—”

“What do I have?”

“A pretty secure job with—”

“Daddy? He's sixty, Skip. Think about it. He's not going to do this forever. My father is going to retire if he doesn't run himself into the ground and die first. And then what? I run his business? I don't think so.”

She was working herself up, and I knew better than to interrupt.

“I'm not an architect, I'm not a construction worker and, frankly, without my father, I couldn't and wouldn't do that job.”

Up until this time, I thought she was set for life. It had never dawned on me that she was looking down the road.

“So what are you saying?”

“I need a new career.”

“Really? Em, you're doing great right now.” I hadn't found my first career yet. Still floundering.

“In your eyes, Skip. Not in the real world. And I'm not sure you play in the real world sometimes. Do you seriously believe that you and James are going to make a big career out of the P.I. thing?”

Honestly, I didn't. I was living James's dream, not mine.

“And even if you did, I'm not coming aboard full time. I don't
want to be your girl Friday. I'm in your corner, boyfriend, but I have much higher goals for myself. And for you.”

“What are they offering you?” I was afraid to even hear the amount.

“Three thousand dollars for one week.” She gave me a weak smile. “If they continue the character, my manager will negotiate a new deal.”

Three thousand for one week. I had a business degree. Still, it took a couple of seconds. A hundred fifty-six thousand dollars a year if she worked every week. I made about twenty-eight thousand a year. She was being offered five and one half times what I made. To be an actress. She was probably worth that, and more, but still—

“All right. I'm not exactly happy about this, but you've put up with some of my crazy ideas, so I'll get on board. You pursue the actress thing and keep Juliana distracted, and I'll keep bugging Sue Waronker, Kathy Bavely, and anyone else who can help us solve this case.”

“Really?”

“Really, what?”

“You'll let me pursue this?”

“Let you?” I actually had a choice?

“Skip, thank you.” She leaned over from the passenger seat and mashed her lips to mine. It was almost painful. Almost, but then the softness and sensuousness of the kiss set in.

Finally, she pulled away. Her dewy eyes, her flushed face made me wish for the sanctity of our motel room.

“I need you to be on my side. How can I do this without you?” Nodding her head, she said, “I want to solve the case. But put yourself in my position. Someone sees a value in your talent that you've never considered, and all of a sudden you want to explore that value. That talent. Well, I'm there, Skip. I want to see what the other side feels like. So far it feels really good.”

So far, everything was an ego boost to my girlfriend.

Nodding back to her, I started the car. Potential was the furthest thing from my mind. Aside from my swim team coach in high school, I'd never had anyone who saw major potential in me. My life consisted of a disappearing father and a mother and sister who wrote me off years ago. Other than James and Em, I'd never met anyone who seriously had hope for me. No one.

And now I had a girlfriend who has just discovered she may be in line to be the next big thing. An American princess. Stranger things have happened. Sixteen-year-old Lana Turner skipped school one day and was discovered drinking a Coke at the Top Hat Café on Sunset Boulevard. Within a week, Zeppo Marx from the Marx Brothers had signed her to his agency and she became one of the biggest actresses in movie history. I know, I have a bottomless pit for useless movie trivia. Someday I needed to find a way to make that pit pay off.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

In
The Postman Always Rings Twice
, Frank Chambers says to Cora Smith, the Lana Turner character, “With my brains and your looks, we could go places.”

In our situation, it was Em's brains and Em's looks. Together, with her brains and her looks,
she
could go places. Sometimes she took me along, but I was kind of dragging down the potential.

I still didn't tell her about the BMW trying to run me over, and we drifted off to sleep never totally reconciling.

Waking up early, I realized it was eight o'clock already in sunny Miami. I walked into the fresh outside, listening to early birds, and called James.

“On the job, pard. Last night a carload of high school drunks jumped the curb and plowed into one of our sets. Guy on duty about got run over.”

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