The Publicist Book One and Two (6 page)

Chapter Twelve

The signing at Wassermann’s was scheduled for Friday, and everything was in place. Books were ordered, and the store had been receiving a brisk pace of calls inquiring about the event. Leslie and Melanie had a huge gay following, and Kate had spent a considerable amount of time promoting the event to publications and blogs across the ’Net, hoping and praying they would come out in droves.

Kate’s publisher put the entire group up at the Lowe’s Hotel on Park South. It was a sprawling, luxurious place and home of The Library, a dark and intimate bar/restaurant inside the hotel that was known for its business A-listers and endless deals that were made within its walls.

The first stop on Friday morning was to
Good Morning America
, then
The Ellen Degeneres Show
for a special New York taping, and finally, they would be off to
Showbiz Tonight
on
CNN
. While both the women had been fine during the California event, Kate noticed Melanie start to fray when they got to New York. Phil had been keeping a close eye on her to make sure she wasn’t drinking more than she should, but Kate had caught her sneaking some whiskey into her coffee that morning just before her makeup artist got there at four a.m. Phil, of course, was still sleeping—as was the foul-mouthed Myrna—so Kate decided to gently mention something to Melanie, who promptly flew into a rage.

“Are you accusing me of drinking?”

“Well, you did just pour whiskey into your coffee,” Kate said, trying to remain calm while the makeup person prepared to doll Melanie up.

“I do that every morning. Now, be a dear and go see if you can scrape me up a bagel from room service.” Melanie threw her a sweet smile and Kate decided to forget it. Hopefully, Phil would show up soon and she could stop babysitting the actress. But the minute Kate’s back was turned, Melanie poured another shot into her cup.

The timid makeup person decided to ignore what he just saw and said: “Well, Miss Melanie, are you ready to look even more beautiful than you already are?”

Melanie smiled and sipped her coffee, relaxing more with each swallow.

The limousine arrived at the hotel to take the crew to the first taping at six a.m. By the time the limo pulled up, Kate was already exhausted. Myrna had found a million things to yell at her about, and Phil was convinced that by Sunday their book would be at the top of the list. Kate made a mental note to turn off her cell phone that following weekend so she wouldn’t have to listen to the endless ringing when Phil called wondering why his book wasn’t even mentioned in
The
Times
, let alone on the list.

Leslie emerged from the hotel looking fresh and smiling at Kate. They hadn’t exchanged a lot of words, but Kate liked Leslie. She seemed pretty much happy with anything Kate did for her, and she was grateful to have at least one person in this group who didn’t badger her endlessly with insane requests. When Melanie walked out of the hotel, Kate could tell she’d had more than one sip of whiskey in her coffee. She giggled at the chauffer and tried to flirt with the doorman who seemed terrified of this aging actress’ advances.

Kate shuffled them all into the car, and they sped off to their first taping, which, to Kate’s surprise, actually went pretty well. The interviewer had been a fan of the show and was excited to have the women on. Kate watched Melanie closely, and for whatever reason, she seemed to pull it off. Aside from her and the makeup person who had been hired for the entire day, no one would know she was probably well beyond the legal limit to drive. Thank God she was only walking, talking, and smiling. So far as Kate could see, Melanie managed to pull that off quite well.

The morning wore on, and the signing scheduled for two p.m. that day was already drawing a crowd. As Kate predicted, it was almost all from the gay and lesbian community, and she was glad she’d taken that route. They were lined up outside the store. Wassermann’s would be pleased, and Kate knew she’d kept her promise. Maybe this would turn out to be an okay day after all.

When they got to
CNN
, Melanie started to complain about her back. She’d been known for chronic back pain. When she was found nude on Rodeo Drive and her blood showed a level of painkillers, she swore it was her meds and nothing more.

“Katie,” she smiled sweetly when they got to the
CNN
building, “I need some water to take my pills or I’ll never make it through this interview.”

Kate rested her hand on Melanie’s elbow and pulled her aside. “Melanie, listen. I’d like to help you with this, but you and I both know you’ve been drinking. Don’t deny it.” Kate added quickly when Melanie opened her mouth in protest.

“I need you to help me pull this off; it’s a quick, fifteen minute interview. That’s all. Then we’re done, and you can have your pain pills.” Kate lied, knowing full well that Melanie needed to stay off of them at least until the signing was over, but Kate would jump off that bridge when she came to it.

“Fine,” Melanie agreed, and stomped inside like a scolded child. Somehow, Kate didn’t believe her, and by the time they were ushered into the green room, Kate noticed Melanie swaggering a bit and realized she’d probably popped her pain pill with the flask of whatever booze she was carrying in her purse. Kate started to sweat; if Melanie screwed up this interview, Kate would have a hard time getting anyone else booked on this show because she couldn’t keep her clients in line. The problem was, these women weren’t her clients—Phil was. By default, she ended up babysitting the entire group, and Bernie was, of course, nowhere to be found.

“What’s up with Melanie?” Robert, the handsome
CNN
producer who Kate met for an occasional drink asked her after watching Melanie giggle her way through most of the interview.

“Nothing, Robert. I swear.”

Robert put his hand on the small of her back. It was no secret he wanted more from Kate than an occasional drink, but Robert wasn’t her type. A bit too New York for her tastes, a bit too worried about making an impression and less worried about being real. Kate wanted real; she hungered for it. Robert was handsome and sweet, but far from real.

“Don’t kid me, Kate. We both know Mel’s on something. Now tell me what it is so I know what I’m dealing with.”

“Pain pills,” Kate said, leaving out the fifth of vodka Kate was certain Melanie had drank with it.

“Fucking great. Okay, let me alert the host so he doesn’t spend too much time with her.”

Robert was smart, and that was one of the reasons he’d been with
CNN
for over fifteen years. He was one of the best in the business and why he insisted on working at a celebrity-driven show like this one was beyond Kate. But again, Robert was all about making an impression, and he believed celebrities were the biggest impression makers of them all.

Kate shook her head as she watched Melanie hang onto her chair to keep herself from swaying. It just cemented her decision further not to date Robert. Anyone who thought celebrities were impression-makers was not someone she could spend time with. And after watching this train wreck over the last week, Kate was tempted to swear off all celebrities. Forever.

Chapter Thirteen

“What the hell do you mean there were only twenty books sent for this event? We have almost two hundred people lined up outside!” Kate could hardly breathe. Somewhere, someone had screwed up the book order. Instead of ordering two hundred books, they’d ordered twenty.

Carol the store manager looked back through her paperwork.

“We tried calling the editor a few times to confirm that this was the correct number—a Bernard someone.” The manager fumbled with her notes. “No one ever got back to us, so we assumed this was the right number of books.”

Kate felt the room spinning; twenty books would send Phil into a rage, not to mention what the hanger-on would say.

“I have to get more books,” Kate insisted.

“Kate, I’m sorry, but we can’t. There are no books in the warehouse, and we didn’t order extra copies. As I said…”

Kate stopped listening and quickly pulled out her phone to call Bernie.

She got his voicemail.

She tried him at home. Nothing.

Carol fumbled with the paper in her hand. Kate’s panic was papable. “Listen, Kate, I’m going to go and make sure they’re okay and set up out there. Let me know what you figure out. I’ll have our staff call some of the other stores and see if we can get some copies on consignment.”

Carol closed the door behind her, leaving Kate in the stuffy room by herself to figure this out. She tried calling Lulu to see if she was at the office. Then Kate remembered the email that they’d floated around saying MD was closed that Friday to accommodate a last minute heating and air conditioning fix the company had to perform when all the systems blew out the day before. Edward had encouraged everyone to work a half-day and then head home for an early weekend. The repair process was noisy and messy, and much of the staff took him up on his offer. Lulu’s phone went to voicemail; she tried her cell, same thing. Kate started to panic. It would take her almost an hour to get from where she was to the office by cab to see if Bernie had any copies stashed in his office, which editors often did. She desperately needed to get her hands on some books. If the bookstore couldn’t get any, she’d either have to take the cab ride or face the music with Phil and Myrna.

Carol pushed the door open and peered inside, shaking her head. Nothing. No one else had books. They were thirty minutes from the start of the event and the store had twenty copies of the book. That would get them through the first five minutes of the signing, and then Phil would spend the next three hours of this event fuming. The women had their DVDs to sign. Naturally, someone at the studio knew better than to under order on those.

“Kate, I need to tell you something,” Carol began. “After doing some more research, it looks as though Bernie stopped the order.”

Kate was dumbfounded. Why on earth would Bernie do that? Did he intentionally want to set this up for failure? Was he trying to undermine her?

“Thanks, Carol. I have a few more calls to make. Let me see if I can fix this.” Kate tried to remain calm, but her hands were shaking. If Edward found out about this, she would lose
The Continued Promise
. Kate was certain of it. Bernie might have changed the order, but at the end of the day, the buck would stop with her. Kate punched a number in on her phone. Mac answered.

“Yeah?”

“Mac, it’s Kate.”

Mac could hear the frazzle in Kate’s voice, “Katie, what’s going on?”

Kate explained, as best she could, what she surmised had happened up to this point. “My only hope, Mac, is that there are copies in Bernie’s office. Is your assistant around. Can she go check on this for me?”

“Kate, I’ll do it.”

“Mac, no, you’re not even in the city, and the signing starts in thirty minutes.”

“I’m at my apartment this weekend. I can be at the office in five and to you in less than thirty if I can find the books.” Mac kept an apartment in the city that he often stayed at for several weeks at a time. With the boys gone to college, there was no reason for him to go home anyway.

“Are you sure, Mac?”

“Positive. I’ll call you when I know more.”

Kate dropped the phone in her purse and leaned against the wall. Outside she could hear Myrna’s screeching voice. She reached over to lock the office door. She needed a few more minutes by herself to figure out what she’d do if Mac couldn’t find any books.

…

Less than twenty minutes later, Mac showed up, books in hand. He’d found about a hundred copies stuffed in Bernie’s office, grabbed them, and then tipped the cabbie twenty dollars to break all the traffic laws and get Kate the books she needed. When Kate saw Mac’s smiling face, she nearly leapt into his arms. Mac didn’t say a word, but handed the box to one of the store clerks. The cabbie was waiting outside, trunk open with more copies. Probably not the number of copies Phil was hoping for, but considerably better than the twenty books they’d started with.

“Mac, I can’t thank you enough. You know, if this hadn’t gone well…” Mac rested a hand on her arm. “It was my pleasure, Kate. I’m just glad I could help.”

“You did more than help me, and you know that.”

Mac only smiled, “Call me when this is over and let me know how it went.”

Then, without another word, he turned to leave. Kate noticed he was wearing jeans and a casual white shirt. She’d never seen this look on him, but she liked it. She assumed this was who Mac really was—just a regular guy who’d landed this incredible job, but still as real as they come. She watched Mac get back into the cab, lost in thought, when Myrna’s vile mouth brought her back to reality.

…

When the last of the line of autograph-hungry fans passed through the line, Kate breathed a sigh of relief. The limo was already out front to take the group to the airport and she’d be done with the lot of them. Kate could hardly wait. She was exhausted but keyed up from having to keep track of Myrna’s rampant demands on the bookstore and Melanie’s constant “water” drinking. Kate knew whatever was in the plastic bottle wasn’t water but since no cameras were rolling, she could care less. As long as Melanie kept smiling and signing and kept her clothes on, Kate was thrilled.

Kate watched as the group piled into the limo. Phil mentioned in passing that he’d be watching
The
Times
on Sunday for his book, Kate just smiled and shook his hand. The vile mouthed hanger-on stepped into the limo, but not before shouting a slew of obscenities at the driver for parking too far from the curb. When the car finally glided into traffic, Kate stepped away from the street thankful that the whole mess was finally over and cursing Bernie for his apparent intentional undermining of the whole event. From out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a black sedan that came to a smooth stop in front of her. The backdoor opened and out stepped Mac, still in his jeans and smiling from ear to ear.

“You did it, kid,” he laughed. “And best of all, you survived.”

“Yes I did, but barely. I think I’ll need hours of therapy to get over this—or a stiff drink.”

“Well, I can’t help you with the therapy. Although, I’ve been told I’m a good listener. But, I can definitely help you with the drink.” He winked.

Kate tipped her head to one side, suddenly wondering what was going on. “Mac, what are you doing here?”

“I decided you needed to get picked up in style, so I hired a sedan,” he paused. “Then I decided you didn’t need to be alone, so I came with it.”

Kate laughed. How on earth did Mac know this was just what she needed? Without another thought, she said, “Let me grab my purse, then I’ll take you up on it.”

…

Kate leaned into the leather seat of the car, feeling relaxed for the first time in over a week. This had been a hard campaign, mostly because she spent so much of her time trying to convince the media they needed to care about it. Mac sat near her. So close, she could smell the slightest hint of his aftershave. Once the car was in motion, Mac pulled a small bottle of champagne out of a cooler the driver had placed on the front seat.

“Mac, you shouldn’t have!” Kate smiled, “but I’m glad you did. I really do need a drink.”

“Then drink you will, my dear Katie.” Mac filled her glass, then his, and toasted her success.

“Here’s to a great event, despite Bernie’s attempts to try and screw it up.”

Kate laughed as she sipped her champagne. She could feel herself relaxing in his presence, and the champagne was helping to take the edge off.

“You really saved me today, Mac. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Mac looked out the window, seemingly embarrassed by her praise,

“I didn’t do anything really, just got the books. But I’m glad I could help. And you know what else? You need to relax more, Katie. You’re way too wound up all the time.”

“Oh, MacDermott, you’re one to talk.”

“Yeah, but I know when to turn it off. You don’t. You’re always doing something for work. I bet you even work on Sundays, too.”

Kate tipped her glass to her lips; the champagne was having an effect on her. She threw Mac her best smile.

“I do work a lot, but I have to. I’m still climbing the corporate ladder; you’re already there, Mac.”

He shook his head. “I’m not already there, Kate. I’m just in a position where it seems like I’m there. But you and I both know if I show Eddie a series of failed books, my ass will get canned. Or worse, I’ll start getting nothing but Bernie books.”

Kate had to laugh, but she hated the thought of Mac getting relegated to Bernie territory.

Mac turned to face her. “Pull your phone from your purse and hand it to me.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Mac held out his hand. “Your phone. Now.”

Obediently, Kate reached in her purse and handed it to him. She hesitated for a moment and almost pulled back, but Mac wrapped his hand around hers.

“Hand it over, Katie. I promise I won’t read all the emails you get from your dozens of boyfriends.”

“I don’t have—” Kate started and then caught herself. She knew better than to talk to Mac about her boyfriends, or lack thereof. A conversation like that wasn’t a good idea, especially with someone as disarming as Mac.

“What are you going to do with it?” she finally asked.

Mac didn’t answer, but handed the phone to the driver. “When we stop, I need you to lock this in the trunk, and don’t give it back to the lady until we’re headed home.”

“Yes, Sir.” The driver said obediently.

Mac turned off the phone and handed it him, but not before locking the device. He knew Kate had a lot of media emails on there, and better safe than sorry.

“I am going to take you out, Kate, and we’re going to have a great time. I don’t want you checking that damned thing all night like you usually do.”

“Mac, really, this isn’t necessary. Besides, I can only stay for one drink.”

Mac only smiled as they pulled up in front of the bar.

Carson’s was one of Mac’s favorite places in the city. It was small and unpretentious. They got out and Mac led her inside; it was dark and intimate. He selected a booth in the corner and immediately ordered their drinks.

“Unless you’ve changed your drink preference?” he smiled, but Kate just nodded.

As much as she hated to admit it, she needed this night. Even more to her chagrin, she admitted that there wasn’t anyone else she’d rather be with right now than Mac. She tried to convince herself that it was because he understood the kind of day she’d had and what she had to tolerate with these authors, as well as the pressure she was under, but in her heart Kate knew better. She was getting into dangerous territory. Now with a book as big as
The Continued Promise
, she needed to keep her hormones—and everything else for that matter—in check.

“So tell me straight, Kate. Why are you here with me and not out with some hot guy?” Mac sipped on his beer. It was the first time Kate had seen him drink anything other than a martini.

“Well, mostly because you were the first one to ask.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Mac, I don’t think this is a good conversation for us to have. I mean, how would you feel if I asked you why you’re not home with your wife on a Friday night?”

“Touché, Katie,” Mac said, his face suddenly grim.

“Mac, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, but I can’t guarantee I will be able to answer it.”

“Fair enough. So, why don’t we ever see Carolyn at the office or at company functions?”

Mac studied his glass. It was a reasonable question, and one he’d been asked more than a time or two.

“She doesn’t like the New York scene,” he said finally. “She’d rather stay at home than sit at some stuffy party. I can’t really blame her. I don’t care for them much either.”

“Well, neither do I, but doesn’t Edward get on you about showing up spouseless?”

“All the time,” Mac rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t like it that I don’t seem to have support at home to do my job. He says it shows weakness, but then we both know Ed’s full of shit most of the time.”

“Why do you keep an apartment in the city, Mac?”

“Whoa, Katie, my dear. What’s with all the questions?”